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Hi everyone. This is a follow up to Alex Films the Pump Room. It's about a professional naked bodybuilding contest. Alex Films the Contest Alex followed the single-file line of professional bodybuilders down a narrow hallway leading out of the pump room. He kept the camera low to highlight the V shaped backs of pulsing muscularity as the men walked. None of them were wearing posing trunks, and all of them had rounded, shredded glutes which flexed rhythmically as they walked. Because their legs were so big, their feet were far apart as they walked, causing the characteristic bodybuilder gait. The hallway turned, and the group was in a darkened room behind the main stage. A short staircase led up to the stage, where there were blinding lights and a booming announcer's voice. The men formed a group and waited for their instructions. As he focused in on the competitor's square-jawed faces, Alex reflected how much bodybuilding had changed during his career as a photographer. The hyper-masculinity that the athletes and their audiences craved had continued to push to new levels. The essence of a man was strength and potency, and bodybuilders showed off that essence through the largest and most beautiful muscles possible. Why not show off the largest and most beautiful genitals as well? The magazine publishers and contest organizers eventually decided that the culture was ready for it, and after calculating how much could be made from selling a whole new line of supplements, they created the first naked bodybuilding contests. At first not every bodybuilder was willing to bare it all, but in time they went where the sponsors wanted. And the supplements and training programs worked. Specialized growth hormones targeted the genitals, and by incorporating naked training into their programs, bodybuilders gained more control and confidence over their penises. However, any overt indication of homosexuality was still not allowed. Just as it has been before bodybuilding went naked, the competitors maintained a stoicism about their sport both on stage and off. The message was clear: bodybuilding was still about manliness and strength - and any funny business was behind the scenes. Alex positioned himself so he could film the posing routines from his backstage vantage point and give his viewers a more personal look at the contest. Big Ramy was the first to be called up, and he sprang energetically up the stairs, strode to the center of the stage, and began his routine with a front double bicep. The huge muscles on his arms bulged. Ramy was not the most graceful poser, but he more than made up for it with his grinning attitude and playful behavior. He continued his routine, his cock semi-hard and swinging obscenely as he pivoted between poses. He had somewhat of a roidgut this year, which the judges did not like but many of the fans in the audience approved of. After his routine was complete he returned towards Alex, whose camera centered in on the enormous man's phallus, now almost completely erect from the passion of the posing routine. Next on the stage was Akim Williams. Akim's physique was similar to Ramy's except his pecs were incredibly rounded and heavy, as many people commented on. Akim's testicles were absolutely gigantic, and they pushed his engorged yet still flaccid penis up and away from his body, which made it look even larger that it already was. Akim was outspoken about his practice of withholding his semen for months before the contest, which no doubt helped his testicles grow to be larger than his fists. By the time Akim's routine was done, the obvious side effect of his practice was shown, as a long white string of precum drooled from the tip of his prick and trailed on the floor. The audience was roaring with appreciation for the spectacle of total muscularity and manliness. As the contest went on, Alex observed the various ways that the men used their dicks to complement their individual physiques. Some entered the stage flaccid and worked themselves (and the audience, thought Alex) to a full erection before exiting the stage at the height of arousal. Some started their routine fully hard, and used their jutting cocks to complement their profiles, like in a side bicep pose. Steve Kuclo seemed to be a fan favorite as he flexed his right bicep and then lowered it to the tip of his oozing cock, then spurted a small amount of precum onto the rounded bicep peak. Many of the men had an extra glisten on their sweeping quads by the end of their routine, as their movements caused their dicks to slap around and leave trails. The last competitor was a man Alex didn't recognize, which was unusual since he spent time following the industry. He was shorter than most, but very densely muscular. He had a bald head relatively fair skin, and huge traps and neck muscles which threatened to swallow his head. He charged up the stairs to the stage aggressively, baring his teeth with every pose. He flexed a most muscular, showing his freakish traps and the sheer size of his chest as his nipples disappeared below his lower pecs. He shifted to a front double bicep, opening up the front of his body and letting his huge penis, fully erect and already drooling, fly free as he showed his big guns to the crowd. He pivoted to a side chest, demonstrating the roundness in his steroid-infused bicep and pec, the unbelievable width of his leg, and the majestic curve of his manhood as it arched from his pelvis almost up to his lower pecs. He swung around to the back and flared his lats, bulging with veins and sweat. Drops of precum hit the floor. Finally he turned back towards Alex, who was shocked to see an expression on his face which combined the passion of the moment with an overwhelming, mindless aggression. The bodybuilder charged towards the stairs to descend off-stage, and as he did so, a man in sweats and hoodie who was sitting behind Alex calmly stood up. The charging bodybuilder leapt down the stairs towards the man in sweats, who dropped to his knees as if he were expecting it. Dripping with sweat, his over-pumped cock pulsing and throbbing, the bodybuilding placed a muscular hand on either side of the man's head and shoved his penis deep down the man's throat. The man in sweats took the bodybuilder's engorged cock without a flinch, and began to pump his head back and forth to milk it. Alex realized that the man in sweats was the bodybuilder's coach, that he had teased and primed his athlete to within an inch of explosion, and was providing the much-needed relief now that the routine was successfully over. Alex zoomed his camera in on the coach's face which was totally expressionless as he received a hostile face-fucking from a champion bodybuilder who was out of his mind on steroids and muscle passion. It was only a few more seconds before hot white semen was erupting from the edges of the coach's mouth. Grunting ferociously and gnashing his teeth, the unnamed bodybuilder deposited what looked like a full pint of seed into his coach's face. Alex moved his camera around the pair, capturing multiple angles. He noticed that the other competitors had gathered in a circle to look on, some with rather awed expressions on their faces. He began to capture their reactions too, but a stagehand appeared and began to herd the naked bodybuilders back towards the pump room.

Encore une petite bêtise ----------------------- Et enfin le voilà! Enfin le voilà mon cher Michel, plus de deux heures que nous l'espérions, deux heures quarante exactement Oui Jean-Luc, le moment que nous attendions tant, et vous aussi chers téléspectateurs, ce palpitant direct, ce grand évènement suivi par toutes les télévisions du monde, il culmine à cet instant, encore quelques secondes avant que le scène ne s'anime. Oui Michel, c'est l'évènement tant attendu, la compétition sportive la plus célébrée au monde, le plus prestigieux trophée du plus prestigieux des sports, et je parle bien entendu du Bodybuilding, Voici enfin le début du spectacle ! Oui cher Jean-Luc, cela va enfin pouvoir commencer, l'élection du MOST EXTREMELY MUSCULAR SUPERHUMAN ULTRAGIGAWEIGHT SUPREME BODYBUILDER OF THE UNIVERSE V. Et oui déjà la cinquième année de cette compétition, ce qui est à la fois peu et beaucoup considérant le statut légendaire qu'elle a si rapidement acquise. Et à juste titre. La foule est en délire alors que sur la scène les pans du décor s'écartent, dans un tumulte de fumée, de lumière et de clameurs Cette année encore on a droit à du grand spectacle, l'organisation n'a pas reculé devant les moyens ! Et voici Frank Lefort qui entre en scène, Ô mon Dieu il est plus spectaculaire que jamais ! Et ce n'est rien de le dire! Le stade tout entier est estomaqué. Et pour l'instant nous n'apercevons que sa silhouette ! Oui le jeu de lumières est très habile, nous tenant en haleine tout en laissant deviner la fabuleuse énormité du physique de ce géant de deux mètres quarante sept ! Mais voici qu'il avance un pied dans la lumière ! Les écrans géants montre ce pied en gros plan, il faut bien dire que les immenses pieds de Frank Lefort, parfaitement bardés de muscles, sont adorés par ses fans. Fans qui sont bien évidemment en nombre ce soir ! Absolument cher Michel, et ils le font savoir, ils l'acclament si fort que je vous entends à peine dans mon casque ! Et cela dure, Jean-Luc, cela dure... Manifestement notre Frank Lefort national attend qu'un peu de calme revienne pour révéler son physique. Ah il faut dire qu'il sait ménager ses effets - enfin dans la mesure du possible ! Mais il semblerait qu'il... BORDEL DE MERDE ! ... Oui pardon Michel, et je m'excuse auprès de nos auditeurs, mais... Oh Jean-Luc je crois que vous avez plus ou moins reflété l'opinion générale, même si votre verbe n'était pas trop chatié, ha ha. Pour ma part je suis resté sans voix. Et pour cause ! Oui, un moment historique, tout bonnement incroyable. Quand la lumière a progressivement révélé ces deux gigantesques pectoraux, je veux dire, il nous avait habitué à l'exceptionnel depuis bien longtemps, mais là, les deux montgolfières de muscle jaillissant de son poitrail ont atteint une taille ahurissante. Tout à fait Michel, Frank Lefort nous présente des pectoraux d'une épaisseur, d'un volume si délirant, qu'ils pendent quasiment jusqu'à sa taille. Sa sangle abdominale toute entière est dissimulée par cette avalanche de muscle mammaire. Mais attendez, oui... Ah mais oui, il fait entrer en bandaison ses deux gros seins, non mais regardez-moi cette folie, on dirait qu'il va décoller, et cette débauche de striations, on peut voir apparaître chaque fibre musculaire Encore et toujours Michel, notre Frank parvient à faire rimer quantité et qualité. Mais c'est sa tête qui disparaît par contre ! Mais oui Jean-Luc, effectivement, l'érection de ses pectoraux est si puissante, que leur volume les fait dépasser la hauteur de son crâne. C'est impensable. Il faut le voir pour le croire. D'autant qu'il n'a pas adopté de pose particulière, il fait ça comme s'il faisait juste rouler ses pectorauoooOOH! Il fait danser ses pectoraux désormais ! La foule est en délire. Des centaines de kilos de muscles qui bondissent et jaillissent de son torse selon son bon vouloir, un phénomène absolument stupéfiant. Attendez Michel, il bloque ses pectoraux en contraction à nouveau. Que... Mais regardez ses abdominaux ! Quelle maîtrise, Il joue se chaque muscle abdominal avec une précision sidérante. Et regardez comme ils sont volumineux, définis et parfaitement symétriques, tous les 10. Mais que faites-vous Michel... Oh il s'est levé pour applaudir, je vais en faire autant Voilà nous reprenons l'antenne, Jean-Luc et moi sommes en nage, pétris d'émotion, Frank Lefort vient de mettre fin à cette "symphonie abdominale", à laquelle ses obliques se sont joint sur la fin, maintenant il a fait retomber ses lourds pectoraux, et reprend sa respiration, comme vous l'entendez le public l'applaudit à tout rompre. Et le spectacle ne fait que commencer. Frank reprend son souffle, en position de détente toujours, son sourire éclatant balayant l'auditoire, ton torse ruisselant de sueur. Vous l'entendez, la foule scande son nom, et... ça devait arriver, le chant des supporters, "Frankie, tu es fort, tu es maître, tu es Dieu, nous t'aimons..." Ca va durer un moment cette affaire. Oui Jean-Luc, l'occasion de commenter sur le choix vestimentaire de M. Lefort, qui n'est pas innocent, cette année il a opté pour un maillot aux couleurs de l'arc-en-ciel, ce qui ne saute pas aux yeux car c'est tout au mieux un cache-sexe, contenant autant que faire se peut son imposant appareil génital. L'athlète nous a habitué à ses maillots de "posing" les plus minuscules possibles, mais aujourd'hui son choix semble inhabituellement politique, certainement une prise de position contre la féroce oppression subie par les homosexuels dans certains pays du Moyen-Orient actuellement ; possiblement aussi, un clin d'oeil à ses innombrables fans dans la communauté gay, envers qui il a toujours manifesté une affection particulière. Attendez Michel, regardez il lève lentement ses bras de part et d'autre, on sait ce qui arrive, oh le stade est en feu. Ses bras atteignent l'horizontale, c'est fou comme il a le sens du spectacle, il fait vraiment vivre des émotions en montagne russes à tous ces gens, et à nous aussi, et à vous aussi sans doute chez vous... Il ferme lentement ses poings... Oh Jean-Luc cette fois-ci c'est mon tour PUTAIN DE BORDEL DE MERDE ! Wow Michel, je crois que... Mais taisez-vous, regardez-moi ça ! Regardez ces planètes ! Regardez ces miracles ! C'est... C'est... Oui clairement, Frank Lefort vient de bander ses biceps, un double biceps, et... le résultat est tout bonnement... pharamineux, devant nous... C'est... C'est... Comment dire, au moment où il a contracté ses bras, Frank Lefort a matérialisé deux entités gigantesques, ses biceps, déjà colossalement énormes au repos, se sont transformés en monticules de muscle d'une taille improbable, dont je serais bien incapable d'estimer les dimensions... C'est... C'est.... ... et, et... qui s'étend non seulement haut vers le ciel, mais également sur les côtés, de toutes parts, des protubérances qui... il règne un silence implacable dans le stade, on peut juste entendre... Je ne sais pas si vous l'entendez, mais Frank Lefort hurle furieusement de joie en contemplant tour à tour ses biceps qu'il bande frénétiquement, comme s'il voulait voir leurs veines exploser, je vois beaucoup de gens qui s'évanouissent dans l'auditoire, et moi-même... C'est... C'est... Je pense que Michel et moi ne sommes plus en état de commenter les images pour le moment, nous vous prions de nous en excuser, mais je pense que le les images qui vont suivre se passeront de tout commentaire, (...) Nous... avons passé une soirée intense. Vous pouvez le dire Jean-Luc. Nous espérons que vous nous pardonnerez le manque de professionnalisme dont nous avons fait preuve ce soir, comme vous le voyez Frank Lefort est à nouveau couronné du titre suprême, encore cette année il était seul compétiteur. Comme chaque année depuis la création de ce concours. Effectivement.

My best friend was always quite a weakling-he was really tall, 6 foot 5, but never weighed more than 165lbs Until he made some changes... I think it all started some years ago. He just turned 16. At this time My body was already quite well developed. My arms were at 15.75 inches, my legs were big and I had some abs and noticeable pecs. That was when I started working out. I often picked on my friend and fun wrestled him as he had no chance against me (I was 6 feet tall- almost 6 inches shorter than him but weighed 170lbs). It was so funny to see him trying to get out of a headscissor or a headlock by using all his strenght. He someday told me not to humiliate him any longer because he’d feel extremely sad and weak... So when he turned 17 he started hitting the gym too. His first half year transformation was insane! He put on 33lbs! From 165 to 198 lbs. His arms swell like nothing I had ever seen, he probably had 13inch arms but now they were at 15.75! (Mine were 17in at this time.) His legs started to show some muscles and his pecs were already as big as mine. He started to show some abs too. So today, 3.5 years later he’s 20 and took going to the gym quite serious - primarily because he wanted to become a better Football player. We ALWAYS went to the gym together but he gained much faster than I did. He pretty soon was able to deadlift 440lbs several times and benchpress 330lbs once. His legs are at 30inches and his chest at 47inches circumference. His arms don’t look like arms anymore- they passed the 19 inch mark as mine rested only at 18. His abs were fucking ripped and his bulging obliques formed an awesome V-line. He weighed 245lbs and had bulging abs. Just imagine that. People were afraid of him, for example when we went out partying and someone was in his way, they immediately apologised. Also tons of girls felt up his arms and pecs as he bounced them well visible under his tshirt in the middle of the dance floor. One day we were at our flat in the city and had some friends over. We were all quite drunk and made fun of each other. I somehow said something stupid about him. He stood up and “fun wrestled” me. But what was fun for him was hell for me. He grabbed my arms, wrapped them around me, threw me onto the couch, sat down on me, wrapped only one of his huge hands around my throat and said:,, Never disrespect me again in front of everyone else” I was shocked. He was fucking strong. Not even I could have finished him that fast three years ago. He could have killed me in less than 15 seconds if he wanted to... As everyone left he came to me. I thought he’d say sorry or something but instead he just said:,, Now I’m the stronger one of us -,,SHRIMP“! The FAR stronger one! It’s my time to humiliate you now!” I was shook. At that point I was really afraid of him, towering in front of me with his huge muscles. I just said ok, and took some steps away from him, turned around and started going to my room. When he just silently said:,,Now is the time to humiliate YOU...” I turned around and saw how he took off his shirt, uncovering his huuuge pecs and ripped abs. I could almost see the blood rushing through the veins on his chest and arms. I was really afraid at this moment. He threw his shirt to me. “Smell it!” “No, why should i?”, I said “Because I am the alpha now! Sooner or later you’ll smell on it!” He ran to me, grabbed my neck from behind and rubbed his shirt into my face. “But why just smell my shirt, if you could smell... ME!” He turned me around and flexed his arm. “Kiss this biceps.” I just looked at him. “KISS IT!” He pushed my head against his peak and flexed it intermittently. He dragged my head from his biceps over his armpit to his pecs and gave me a bearhug. “Stop! You’re hurting me!” I screamed. He just laughed:,, Hahaha! So what?! That’s not even 50% of my strenght!” He tightened the bearhug even more and bounced his meaty, massive, naked pecs into my face. I got really hard and just hoped that he didn’t notice. My trousers were quite loose and that’s when he noticed. “What have we got here? Lil’ omega boy is aroused by some real steel muscles overpowering him?”, he said as he let go of the bearhug. He dropped me onto the couch. He had me in a headlock immediately. He wrapped his huge biceps around my... my.... mouth?! He really was playing with me... as I wanted to bite his biceps he flexed it, laughed and said: ,,Watch out for your teeth, weakling!” He wrapped his arms around my neck now- totally cutting off my air supply. The only thing that didn’t make me pass out was the fact that he flexed and bounced his 19 inch bicepspeak intermittently. But as he stopped I had to tap. He totally let go of me. I was stunned. It could have been that easy?! His arms were almost half way back at him as he wrapped them around y neck again, layed on my back and said:,, Only weaklings tap...” and he made me pass out. I woke up again. All I saw were his massive calves because he put me in a headscissor while I was knocked out. First thing I noticed were all those veins running down his super hairless tree trunk legs. Wait. What was that? He only took off his shirt before?! And he wore a long blue Jean just before he sent me to sleep... Does that mean that he’s... naked...? ,,Ah, so you’re back, twink! Now you get to feel how it is to be totally humiliated.After tensing his massive quads a few times he somehow turned me around so that now my neck was just a bit above his knee I was facing towards his... cock. I could see his massive, vascular 30inch tree trunk legs. But what impressed me at least as much as his muscles was that cock. It was limp, but really thick and already quite long. It was waaay bigger than mine... actually I‘ve never seen such a massive prick, not even in porn He shove it up my throat and I felt it growing in my mouth.... It filled out the whole space in my mouth as it grew bigger and bigger. It was crazy how big it actually was. Because of his massive tree tunk legs and his overall massive frame his dick was much bigger than it seemed. It already almost filled out my mouth as it was limp. But as it got hard I felt it growing down my throat. Inch by inch. I tried to bend my head backwards but his huge quads were in my way. I gagged and nearly suffocated again because I didn’t know what cut off my airway more, his leg muscles which he flexed all the time or his giant cock... As he got fully erected he started talking to me:,, So, lil weakling! U remember when u were the stronger one of us? Those times are over now and will never come back again! I am the alpha now! No, I’m more than alpha... I’m a god!” He grabbed my hair and moved my head, so that I was giving him a blowjob right now. ,,Well twink, just accept it, I am way stronger than you are.” He started moving his hips. ,,I could easily break you into pieces, just look at my arms, man! They are way bigger than yours! Hmm, if I am a muscle god, u should also treat me like one!” He took my left hand and laid it onto his pec. He started bouncing it. After a while he slid my hand over his rock hard abs. Up and down, up and down with his cock still deep down in my throat. I could feel all his masculinity rush through his cock and his pulse beating in those massive muscles. He then loosened the legscissors and slowly moved my head back from his cock. It looked like it never wanted to end. He pulled out and pulled out, i was really amazed that all that fit inside my mouth. It must have been at least 9inches long... I was totally out of breath as he got up to kneel in front of me on the couch. It was so impressive... he started flexing all his muscles. He did a double biceps pose, flexed his rocky abs, bounced his pecs, tensed his traps. Totally naked. ,,Don’t you get it?!”, he shouted at me as he again reached out for my neck and pulled my face to his chest. He rubbed my face all over those gorgeous pecs and abs. ,,You are my little bitch by now! You are supposed to do everything I command you! I mean, you could try to resist but in the end there’s nothing you could do against me...!”, he said. ,,You should clean up my muscles. Too bad I didn’t sweat by wrestling with u... guess I’d have to work out with you now to get started.” He commanded me to get naked too. He then told me to get on his shoulders to do some pullups. My cock was rock hard all the time and pressing against his lower back. As he went down to do some pushups he told me to get on his back. I did so. He started pushing. It still seemed very easy for him. And then I noticed something. I was in the perfect position to get him in a headlock. Should I really dare to do this? It the only way I could show him that I’m not that weak as he says. I slowly moved my arm under his throat, pulled it back to me And locked it with my other arm. I had him. I had this muscle monster in a real headlock- HIS throat against MY biceps. But what was that? Quite unimpressed he just stood up and started running backwards into the wall. He really bumped me in quite hard but I still had him. I could feel him loose his breath and he started to panic a bit. Now he took together all his left over strength and bowed over, throwing me over his head with my back hitting the floor. Fuck. I probably gonna be dead now. He stood up from his kneeling position and what I saw was frightening. His legs and arms as well as his lower abs and chest were totally covered in veins. They were bulging on his totally pumped muscles. He was breathing very hard and heavy. ,,You really shouldn’t have done that! You know what I gotta do now!!!”, he said really angry. He ran over to me, just like a fucking tank, his pecs were jumping with every step. His massive limp dick was bouncing too. He punched me in my stomach making me go to the ground. Then he wrapped his 19inch arms around my neck, adjusted them a bit an flexed them. I was really afraid that he was going to kill me now... I tapped but passed out again... I came back... I wasn’t dead?! I opened my eyes and saw him towering over me. His massive 30inch legs, his huge cock, those swelling ripped abs, his crazy arms and everything was still covered in those thick veins. He truly looked like an animal. ,,I don’t know why you don’t get it weakling! I am the alpha now, I’m almost twice your size, you stand no chance against me!!”, he said. He wrapped both his big muscular long fingers around my neck and lifted me up with his bare hands- choking me at the same time. I was some inches above the ground, just so that my eyes were on the same level as his. He stared into my eyes like a wild beast right before breaking the neck of it’s prey. In a matter of no time he dropped me and held me in a bearhug. I could feel his massive chest and ripped abs on my limp and weakened body... My cock grew rock hard and pressed against his upper quad. ,,U like that?!”, he said as he squeezed me harder. I wanted to say something but I just wasn’t able anymore. I had no air, no strength and was totally done... ,,Awww, lil boy is so exhausted he can’t speak no more... HAHAHAH WHAT A WEAKLING!”, he screamed and tightened the bearhug even more. I felt his monster cock grow bigger and bigger too-pressing against my (much less ripped) abs. He made me pass out again... I wasn’t even aware that a bearhug could make you pass out... As I regained my consciousness I found myself still in his arms. ,,It’s so easy to overpower you. Guess how easy it would be to kill you! But then I’d have nobody to worship my muscles. Well except all those girls...”, he said. He dropped me on the floor and I was amazed by what I saw... A ripped monster with huge bulging muscles all covered in veins - jerking a huge cock... ,,I sweat just a little, twink. But enough for you to clean me up.” He hit a double biceps pose and made me stand up. I didn’t have enough energy to ask or even just say something anymore. I got his point. He was so submissive... I should have done all this three years ago with him... Back when I was able to do that... ,,LICK THEM!”, he said flexing his biceps. I did so. And I loved it. The salty taste of his testosterone loaded sweat. The form of his arms with all those veins... I cleaned his hole body. From his armpit to his massive chest. He bounced it so his pecs would jump a few inches what made it hard to keep my tongue on his skin. I caught a lot of “underboob sweat”. He grabbed my head and lead it around while I licked his washboard abs. I knew that it’s not gonna be enough for him... he pressed me downwards even more. Now my mouth was at those big balls. They smelled really manly. He didn’t even have to command me. I sucked up all his sweat and started swallowing his massive prick. I wanted to give him the best blowjob he ever received... I felt up his muscles with my hands. As I run my fingers down his abs with one hand and worshipped the inside of his huge thighs he came. ,,Mhhhhh... Now you know your place. I don’t allow you to spit it out! Eat it- it’s extra protein for you!” I really loved his taste. I chewed on it and I hope that his testosterone loaded load will give me a boost in strength... I’ll probably suck him off more often, perhaps I’m gonna become as big as him some day....

Okay, here's the start of something new. Let me know if you want me to carry on! What you need to understand is that Harry and I had been friends all our lives, or nearly. When we were in playgroup, I chewed on his toy car. When we went to school together, we taught one another to read. If a teacher asked me what my name was, I’d say: “Max and Harry.” For years, right up till we went to university, people would call us Maxandharry or Harryandmax. Even at Uni, him studying Biological Sciences and me doing Business Studies, we texted nearly every day. For a while, after celebrating our Friendversary, we even changed our Faceboook names to MaxandharryandharryandmaX, till he pointed out it looked a bit gay. I felt a bit sad changing it, but my girlfriend of the time told me he was right. In the years since then, of course, we drifted apart a bit. We were both in London but we would only meet for a drink every couple of months. I guess he slowly started noticing a change in me about summer 2019 when I had made a special effort to get #BeachBodyReady. ‘Shit, mate, you really do have a gym membership, don’t you?’ he said. ‘When are Men’s Health ringing you for a cover feature?’ I was in a short sleeved shirt and I was feeling pretty good about myself back then, but still I knew he was talking shit. ‘Bro, have you seen the guys on Love Island? All I’ve done so far is lose a bit weight really.’ ‘Impressive though,’ he said, sinking the last of his pint. ‘I don’t think so,’ I said. ‘Not yet.’ ‘Well, I reckon Niamh would think so,’ he said. I cuffed his shoulder. ‘She’s not superficial like other ho’s,’ I said. ‘Girls like that sort of thing, though,’ he said. He looked down at himself. ‘They can’t help themselves.’ ‘They like to see we’re taking care of ourselves,’ I told him. ‘Anyway, you’re far from overweight, dude.’ ‘Underweight, if anything,’ he said. ‘I do my heavy lifting with this.’ He tapped his brow, and we both laughed. ‘Mind you don’t go impairing it with two many hipster beers, then,’ I said, getting up to fetch another round. ‘If you promise not to go crazy with this gym stuff,’ he said. ‘You’re fine as you are.’ But I knew he was wrong. By the time we met to toast Christmas, he couldn’t resist squeezing my arm. ‘Holy shit!’ he said, eyes wide. ‘I thought you just had a big jumper on under that coat. You’re huge!’ ‘Not as big as I’d like,’ I couldn’t help saying, blushing. ‘Still a way to go.’ ‘What do you weight though…?’ ‘About 70kg,’ I said, automatically. ‘Roughly 150lbs.’ ‘Whoa,’ he said, ‘I didn’t expect you to actually know. You must be taking this seriously.’ I shrugged. ‘It’s fun too.’ ‘Bet you’re not drinking tonight.’ ‘Maybe just the one. My body fat’s down to 7%.’ I sipped my orange juice. ‘It feels great, though. I’m so alive, so capable. And, bro, let me tell you, the girls are hanging round me like flies around shit.’ God, it felt good.. Harry didn’t seem to feel so, though. ‘Mate, I didn’t need to have another reason to feel inferior,’ he sighed. His mouth was proper down-turned. ‘Niamh,’ I said, testingly. He nodded glumly. ‘I wasn't enough for her, it seems.’ ‘You were too good for her, anyway,’ I said, although I wasn’t sure how true it was. There he sat, a weedy little guy with glasses, maybe half my size. He couldn’t have lifted a weight above his head, let alone bench-pressed what I was doing. He looked pretty pathetic. ‘Maybe you should join my gym. Just to cheer yourself up.’ ‘Can’t think of anything worse,’ he said. ‘Come off it, mate,’ I said. ‘Build a bit of muscle and you’ll feel amazing. Imagine if Niamh sees you on the beach next summer with your shirt off, biceps bulging, pecs rippling…’ I tailed off, thinking how ridiculous this sounded. Even if I could persuade him to take some exercise, I thought, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea for him to take his shirt off on camera. He was still as lean and hairless as when we both set off for University. I wondered, was I naturally superior to him? Niamh would certainly have picked me over him for a mate: law of the jungle. I’ve have shown her a better time, as well. I didn’t like to think how embarrassing Harry must have been in bed. I shook my head to clear it. Harry had been talking to me and all the time I’d been thinking about banging his girlfriend, cucking him in his own bed. Crazy thinking. I interrupted him: ‘I don’t want to hear any shit, mate, you’re coming with me to the gym tomorrow and that’s that.’ He sat back in surprise, held up his hands. ‘Fine. Fine!’ There was a long pause. Finally he laughed and got up to go to the bar. ‘Better get a round in while I’m still allowed, then!’ ‘Skip the crisps this time, okay,’ I laughed back. ‘2020’s going to be your year.’ And to be fair to him, he turned up. He obeyed me, as if I was in control of him. He did the exercises I told him to do. He changed his diet. It became quite fun, turning up to see him at the gym – maybe not as often as I would be there, but at least a couple of times a week. He didn’t enjoy it but he worked hard. At the end of January, he had actually lost a bit of weight – but sadly, he hadn’t put on a single shred of muscle. We stood looking at one another in the mirror. ‘I can’t fucking believe it,’ he said. ‘I’m actually smaller than before.’ ‘I’ve just grown bigger,’ I said, ‘that’s all, mate.’ ‘Bullshit,’ he said. ‘Yes, you’re bigger but look at me. I’m a shrimp. Nobody would guess we were the same age.’ ‘You’re a week younger,’ I told him, shrugging off my sweaty vest. ‘Maybe you’ll always be…’ Again, I didn’t want to say the truth. ‘What?’ he demanded. ‘What were you going to say? Weaker? Smaller? Inferior?’ ‘But only to me,’ I told him. ‘You might put on some muscle by summer. You won’t be strong but you’ll be fit.’ ‘That’s really what you think of me,’ he said, eyes wide. Furious. He looked like he wanted to pick a fight with me, but something rational was stopping him. He’d be mullered in a second. Instead, he ran away. Just grabbed his bag and stormed out. I should have run after him, but I was meeting this girl for dinner. He had told me on Tinder that she wanted me to fuck her like an animal, and I was still wondering how best to do that. I was too distracted. That was half my trouble. MaxandharryandharryandmaX was in trouble for the first time in history. An unshakeable bond, broken by the gym. Or maybe more, I thought. Maybe by masculinity and testosterone. Maybe by alpha male power. It could never be equal again now that I had begun to dominate. February slipped past, and I thought about him every day. I dreamt about him. I dreamt he was watching while I effortlessly fucked Niamh. I was pumped and bigger than ever while I worked at her tight snatch, and he got smaller while he watched me. In March, I finally sent him a message. ‘Miss lifting weights with you. Miss lifting pints even more.’ He replied almost straight away. ‘Maybe we should resume one of those activities. Guess which one.’ ‘Gym’s open longer hours,’ I replied, with a emoji to show I wasn’t serious. ‘Mate,’ he texted back, ‘I wouldn’t go there right now.’ ‘Why?’ I asked, expecting a joke. And so, Harry was the first person to tell me about coronavirus. I thought it was just him making an excuse about not exercising. I don’t follow the news, don’t really do social media; in fact, I was pretty buried in work and working out. I suppose, I also didn’t want it to be true. I was in full denial. And so, inevitably, I caught it. I’m strong. I’m healthy. I don’t even take roids, so no strain on my heart. So I guess I was well prepared for it. Even so, it knocked me out for longer than I expected. Those were some crazy weeks. Maybe the weeks that followed were even stranger. Apart from work, Harry was the main person I was in contact with during lockdown. At first we talked a bit about fitness: my gym had closed. I tried to buy gym equipment online, but there was none available. ‘I must have got the last set,’ Harry told me. He told me it was the one good thing in his life now. It was hard for him - he was still so weak - so I sent him tips over email, links to videos and online advice. He asked me questions about diets and supplements and steroids. I told him to do it all clean, which disappointed him, being the biology scientist – he wanted to make himself into his own experiment. But it was a good thing. It was like we were the same person after all, just slightly out of phase. Except I couldn’t work out, not properly. I did some bodyweight stuff and started running. The muscle just melted away. I ended up looking as lean as a stick of celery. ‘You’re going to end up as my trainer,’ he said, when we talked about it. I didn’t like that. What if he caught me up? So we didn’t talk about it. And the lockdown rolled by. The lockdown was raised. Life began to return to normal. It was September when we arranged to meet again. A few drinks in the same old pub we used to frequent – but first, we would work out together, side by side. It struck me, as I walked towards the bench press: we were equals at last. MaxandharryandharryandmaX had been brought closer together by the quarantine. We had both realised something: his innate power, my humility. At last, we would be best friends once again. The only problem was, he didn’t appear to have showed up. The gym was pretty much empty, and the only person hanging around our agreed meeting spot was a big guy. Proper monster. Shaved head. Lats out to here, waist in here, a real triangle. He looked nearly a foot taller than me and I was worried for a second. In an empty gym, it’s pretty bad etiquette to stand waiting for a piece of equipment. I didn’t want him to think I was trying anything on; he could have ripped me apart. He turned around and the light glinted off his glasses. He smiled. ‘Hey, Max, you made it!’ ‘Harry?!’ I couldn’t believe it. I thought it was a wind-up. He opened his arms inviting me for a hug. Each arm was as big as both of mine put together. The muscle was thick and pumped as if he had just completed a workout, not spent months in quarantine. ‘Harry,’ I said, looking up at him. ‘This is insane. You’re a fucking beast.’ ‘I used the lockdown well,’ he said seriously. His voice had grown deeper. It was like talking to a different man with my friend’s face, one who towered over me. ‘All this came from working out?’ ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I see you went the other way.’ I looked down at myself, blushing. ‘Yes, I’m pretty small these days.’ ‘How big were you before the lockdown?’ he asked me. ‘Let’s not talk about it,’ I said. ‘Maybe we should –’ ‘Cut the crap,’ he said. ‘I asked you a question.’ ‘About 75kg,’ I told him. ‘165lbs.’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘You used to seem so big,’ he said. He ran his hands over the huge globes of his chest and the hard, thick ripples of his abdominals, lightly brushing his fingers across the giant vascular boulders of his biceps and the vast shoulder-muscles that framed his firm chin. ‘I’m about 270lbs. 125kg.’ ‘It’s not possible,’ I said. ‘Feel it,’ he said. ‘Then you’ll know how possible it is.’ I laughed and held up my hands. ‘That’s fine, I’ll believe you.’ ‘What is the problem with you?’ he said. He didn’t raise his voice but the authority was clear. ‘I told you to feel it, you little bitch.’ ‘Are you okay?’ I asked him. He shook his head for a second. ‘Sorry, bro. It’s the testosterone. Sometimes I lose control. I mean, it’s true that you’re little. And you’re being a bitch.’ He put a hand over his mouth and blushed. The redness spread down his huge neck where it got lost at the tops of his pecs. ‘Jesus. Just bants, mate. Just bants!’ ‘Will it help you if I – if I feel your muscle?’ I said, putting my hands on his physique. ‘Be careful,’ he said. ‘I’m like a loaded gun nowadays.’ ‘More like a cannon,’ I said, feeling his might. ‘The Incredible Hulk has nothing on you. So you went for the steroids after all?’ ‘No way, you little cunt,’ he said, breathing heavily. ‘Ah, I’m sorry, Max. But no – not steroids, exactly. I did some research. With some friends online. Other biology academics into weightlifting. I was looking for short cuts, and they were looking for ways to build size and strength. I think between us we tapped into something that did both. Workouts combined with certain hormones and particular herbs. It’s all perfectly safe, just a few side-effects.’ ‘Like the anger management issues,’ I suggested. ‘And all this fur.’ I ran a hand through the pelt on his monstrous chest. ‘You really are becoming a beast.’ ‘Fuck!’ he gasped. ‘You touched it! I should have warned you – but I thought it would sound gay.’ ‘Touched what?’ I snatched my hand away but he caught it in a giant fist. ‘You touched my nipple. Fucking sensitive nowadays.’ ‘So what – what does that mean?’ ‘It means,’ he said, ‘either I need to fuck a woman in the next ten minutes or…’ ‘Or what?’ Harry looked toward the changing room door. ‘Or, old friend, you’ll have to milk the cum from my big swinging balls…’ TO BE CONTINUED…

He threw the trophy to the floor. The muscular head cracked off the figure and the plastic plinth it stood on smashed into pieces. “Second place? Second fucking place” - he knew he’d been robbed. Years of hard work, early mornings in the gym, the diet, the sacrifices ... the roids. He knew he was worth more than second place. He stood in the bathroom backstage, his body pumped, vascular and as big as it had ever been. Wearing only his deep red posing trunks which struggled to hold his leviathan back, he scanned his body. His pecs were full, round and a huge deep crevice between them dripped with sweat. Quads were massive, smooth and pushed his cock forward making it seem even bigger than it was. He looked good and he knew it. Ever since he’d taken up bodybuilding, he’d become sexually aroused by his growth. With every new growth spurt, it had sexually charged him, pushing him to want to add more size. He’d no need of a partner because looking at his bull like reflection turned him on - self worship was all he needed. He lifted his hulking arms up into a double bicep. The veins bulged like newly laid cables. He couldn’t resist - his tongue found the peak and it explored every inch. Next - down into a most muscular. “Fuck” he thought - “I’m a fucking GOD”. With that, the leviathan awoke. Uncurling itself from its sleep, his bulge grew bigger and bigger “yes, fuck - look at how big I’ve become” he roared. Now at full mast, the posing trunks could hardly contain the granite structure it held. His fingers and thumb felt along the elastic strap of the trunks, it was stretched to its capacity. His thumbs now under the strap hardly needed any help as he pulled them away from his body. The elastic gave way and his monstrous cock smashed against his abs. The posing trunks fell to the floor, ripped and ruined. Now totally naked he could explore his body further. His left hand slid down across his ridged steel abs to where his fingers could cup his avocado sized balls while his thumb stroked the heaving sack. His right hand grabbed the shaft and it began rhythmically stroking his member. His fingers rubbing the ridge of his mushroom while his thumb coaxed the precum from the slit. His body was tanned, huge and he knew he should have come first. He didn’t even notice the door to the bathroom close - he was too intent on worshipping his body. “What the fuck are you doing mate” - a voice called from behind him “This is a public bathroom - you fucking freak” - the voice continued. He couldn’t hear him - his body was all he could focus on. The voice came closer “Hey mate fucking stop that - that’s ..” But that’s as much as the voice said His left elbow smashed backwards into the guys jaw - momentarily leaving the comfort of his ball sack. The trophy the guy was carrying fell to the floor. He turned, naked, pumped and a mix of horny and angry. “Why the fuck they gave you first place ill never know” he said With that, his right hand stoped the rhythmic pumping of his cock and now in a fist - it hit him on the guys right cheekbone making a cracking sound as it did. Almost defiantly crushing the eye socket. The guy fell to the floor, catching his posing trunks on a door handle as he went, tearing them from his body. Writhing in pain, blood pouring from his cheek and nose, the guy was now naked and unable to move. “And that’s what you call an excuse for a dick?” He said staring at what looked like a prepubescent cock. “I’m bigger, I’m stronger and my dick is superior to yours” He stood over the guy in a most muscular pose, a string of precum from his abs to his cock. His right hand in a first again and this time it landed square in his already damaged jaw, cracking it as it came down. The guys tongue lolled out of his mouth, unable to speak, half dazed, half dead. The mighty bodybuilder was slain. He knelt down next to him, his throbbing cock in need of fulfilment. He took the guys head in one hand and with the other, fed his snake of a cock into the guys mouth. Now in a squat position and his member in place, both hands took control of the guys head. He forced it into and out of the guys mouth. Thrusting it with immense power and strength. Feeling the broken jaw cracking and being in control of such a huge muscular man, turned him on. His dick swelled with pleasure, knowing he’d now had taken out his opposition. The guy gagged and feebly tried to stop the rhythmic movement of his cock - but failed. He turned and looked in the mirror. Seeing the guy slumped on the floor and how his massive body had conquered it made his balls tighten - he was ready to unload. As if sensing it, the guy made a final attempt to stop him from ravaging his mouth - but failed. A hot stream of protein and roid cum pumped into the guys mouth. The guy began to choke. but this only spurred him on. Deeper he thrust his member, making sure the guy got one final and privileged protein shake before he died. Anabolic cum spewed into the guys throat and he was unable to resist. The guy inhaled and began to choke. With one final spurt it was over. He withdrew his satisfied cock and wiped the remainder of his cum on the guys cheek. He stood up and placed one foot on the guys chest. With a deep roar he pushed his foot down, his arms in a double bicep pose - the guys ribs cracked under his immense size and strength. The guy was finished, he’d taken his last breath. He looked in the mirror. He was victorious at last - as it should always have been. He walked over and picked the guys trophy up from the floor - it was his now and now the competition had been taken out - nobody else could stand in his way. He was the ultimate human being, a superior bodybuilder, a true muscle god.

Hey guys, thanks to everyone that voted in the first round which was Lat Spread, it was a very very close contest between our 2 gorgeous hunks, Dan shaved it by one vote! I've got a feeling this is going to be a very close contest overall! So now we come to one of my favourite poses, the side chest, both Dan and Regan have huge mass to show and these poses did not disappoint as you will see shortly. Pretty much every upper body muscle has chance to shine in this pose, balloon like pecs, thick boulder shoulders and incredible arms. Just to remind you , your voting for the guy you want to win the chance to be the guy who uses our new super growth serum. Again along with your choice please give an explanation as to why you chose either Dan or Regan. So here we go with Round 2: DAN We believe Dan has some of the best pecs on the planet, so this pic was an easy choice. The roundness and thickness is mindblowing! The pic also shows the quality of his delts and huge biceps. REGAN We chose this pic as it shows Regans incredible size, was nearly 300lb in this pic and still holding in to some decent definition. Big juicy pecs and colossal arms made this pic the perfect choice. So guys, get voting, who wins it for you, Dan or Regan?

Hey guys, for those of you that read my stories in the now sadly departed unfiltered section, you'll be aware that I liked to experiment with my stories and not just do plain old stories , the story I'm now doing will firstly be split Into a few short parts , eventually leading to a much bigger final story later down the line. Your fictional or real replies will have some say towards the final story. So here goes............... So after weeks and weeks of auditions and many many photo shoots at competitions and at gyms we are now finally down to our last 2 Candidates and you the online audience are gonna help us decide which candidate we pick for our brand new growth serum, now as you have seen over the many weeks we haven't gone for your typical skinny guy wanting to get huge! We decided to pick guys who were already fucking huge and wanting to get even bigger! We all sorts of candidates of fitness models right upto competitive athletes and bodybuilders, some just came along for the ride but the bulk of them were deadly serious. It was that that made the decision even harder but I think we have chosen the right 2 people. So how are you going to help us pick the ONE? Well each week we are going to post a picture we took of the candidates doing various poses in different environments, now we know that each persons genetics are different, so we have tried our best to get each pose as similar as each other even though weights and heights maybe slightly different. All you need to do is pick your favourite based on the poses and leave your selection in the comments section with a little explanation as to why you picked that candidate. So without further ado let's meet our final 2. The first pose off you need to chose from is rear lat spread. Candidate 1: Regan , 24, Canadian. We chose this picture as it shows Regans impressive width and thickness off very well. We love the thick slabs of muscles last racking out of his sides and the thickness of his lower back too. Candidate 2, Dan, Romanian. I think it's quite clear why we chose Dan, we all think that back is freakishly impressive, the thickness and width is mindblowing and the definition is crazy for that mass! So, there you have it guys, Regan or Dan Pt 1 , it's over to you!

"Too big,” they’d said. Lose about 25 lbs and you’d place a lot higher. Tighten it up and come in smaller and more toned, and you’d have a good shot at winning. Those were the judges critiques at last year’s Olympia. It was a shame that women’s bodybuilding was so...so.... lame? Wasn’t the point of bodybuilding to get BIGGER muscles? Why have a heavyweight division if they’re only going to say I’m TOO BIG? Wasn’t that why they created bikini and physique? For those cute little muscle Barbies? Not for us musclebound women intent on being the best. And oh boy, do I intend on being the BEST, the BIGGEST, the MOST MUSCULAR woman alive... Screw the IFBB and everyone at the Olympia. I don’t need them or their contests to know who I am. “Too big.” You’re damn straight. They had no idea just how right they were.. I’ll show them too big alright, just wait until they get a load of this bulky muscle monster now! When I placed at that very bottom last year, I admit...I became deeply depressed. All the hard work, all the blood sweat and tears for naught. Did the judges not know how hard I lifted? How insanely strict my diet was? Did they not appreciate my time and dedication? So much of my life was devoted to winning, only to find out that I was the absolute worst competitor in their eyes? Well screw them! I built muscle so easily. I’d always tried to my hardest to be lean and well proportioned. But screw that, not anymore! My new goal is to gain as much muscle as possible. And let me tell ya, nobody packs it on like me! I am a muscle-building MACHINE! Heck, at 18 years old I had 18 inch biceps, 20 inches at 21, and at last year’s Olympia my arms were 23 inches. I was 33 then...I’ll be turning 34 the day before the next Olympia. Trust me when I say, my arms will be AT LEAST 34 inches. But is that my ultimate goal? NAH! My goals are so much loftier now than they have ever been- impossible for any other man or woman, even with drugs. Am I insane? Am I insane to want this, to add so much muscle? Yes. Yes I am. My entire life has been a balance between my family and my passion for bodybuilding. My husband and daughter are my number one priority. And they always will be. They both could see how devastated I was. I didn’t eat right, or lift at all for 3 months. I was sleeping 15 hours a day. My husband told me to do whatever it takes to feel myself again. Whatever it takes to get my revenge. Thank God for that man. He is so supportive (although we all know he's a muscle-lover so it's a win win for him). I won’t let them down. It was 3 months ago I decided to get absolutely massive. It only took a month to get back to where I was before the loss. Another month to get to my current 350 lbs of rock hard muscle. Like I said, I gain muscle so easily. I still have 6 months before the next Olympia. Over the course of 1 month I went from 200 lbs to 220 lbs. I went from 220 lbs to 350 lbs in the span of 2 months. And still 6 more months to go? Yikes. They said I was too big. Just wait. It was 3 months out from Olympia when my husband purposed steroids. I've never done drugs in my life. Hell, I barley even drank alcohol. We both shared a passion for a healthy lifestyle. I scoffed initially, but kept the idea in the back of my mind. Would it really be so bad if started doping? Everyone else did it, and it was a point of pride for me that I never did. But this was about revenge. This was about getting even, settling the score. Showing them JUST how big TOO BIG really was... Two months out. Last week I had broke the smith machine in my house. I'd been doing seated military presses, just some volume work, light weight- high reps, when my daughter snuck up behind me and started tickling me. I inadvertently pressed up on the 500 lbs too quickly and bent the whole machine. When my husband came running in to investigate the awful noise, I just shrugged my gargantuan basketball-sized shoulders and grinned sheepishly. There really wasn't enough weight in my home gym to challenge me anymore, so no biggie! My brother was in the Navy and had managed to procure some anchor chains from a battleship. An early birthday present he'd said. I was initially nervous, I didn't want him to get in trouble! But he just pretended to zip his lips and rolled his eyes. He's a goofball but I love him. Ironically he did end up in trouble when he returned back to his ship. His superiors weren't happy when he told them he broke three ribs in a "fight." I might have hugged him a tad too tightly. Anyway...back to my workouts. My husband had found an old warehouse his company owned, and combined with the chains and some construction equipment we bought, I was really able to let loose! What were already unheard of gains were now well past inhuman, and they were only increasing more and more. My body was a temple of pure muscle mass and strength. I'd also started pills and injections. An old friend who was a doctor had moved to Brazil, and he’d designed a new muscle-building cocktail specifically tailored to my genetic profile. No negative side-effects: no hair-growth, no acne, no voice changes or facial changes of any kind. It did however greatly increase my aggression. One day, a neighbor had come snooping around to investigate why there was loud banging and rumbling coming from a supposedly-abandoned warehouse. I had barreled across the warehouse, knocking over equipment and flinging anything in my path. My neck veins popped as I ripped the door right off its hinges and tore it in half, spit flying in his face as I roared at him for interrupting. Luckily my husband was there to calm me down. Because I was about to run straight through the concrete wall and go tear the guys house off its foundation. Rampage adverted! Today is the day. The day I take revenge on those ignorant judges. The day I take my rightful place as the best bodybuilder the world has ever know. I entered the auditorium from the rear, just as all the puny contestants were being called out. The main door would attract to much attention...not that I was worried about THAT, I just wanted to scare everyone at once. The fire exit was locked, but I made quick work of it with one quick inward push from my 42 inch forearms. The door was much too narrow- my traps alone wouldn't fit through the standard 32-inch width door. The crowd was cheering so loud they must not have heard the noise as I barged straight through the wall with my obscenely muscle-packed delts. Or the noise and shaking as I rumbled down the hallway. I had been wider than I was tall for weeks. Not hard when you're only 5'3". My 8 foot wide shoulders smashed up against either side. My legs were so massively thick, pumped and musclebound that I had to swing my whole body around to move, causing my shoulders and arms to gouge into the walls and absolutely demolish them. When I got to the stage entrance, a big burly security guard spotted me and tried to stop me. Now, a 6'6" 300 lbs man's size would normally intimidate most people. Haha! I was double his weight...TWO MONTHS AGO. I was easily tipping 950 lbs at this point and growing every minute. Those roids had done wonders! Doing one arm curls with a multi-hundred pound anchor chain attached to a Ford Escort had pushed my arms well beyond 120" and they were freakishly cut and vascular. When the guard put his hand on my chest to stop me, I simply lost it. Anger turned to pure rage as I started clenching my fists- how dare he try and stop me, the ULTIMATE beefcake from her destiny. Freaky veins turned nightmarish as all the steroids began to mix with my hatred for all things Olympia. The 300lb man didn't stand a chance as I walked right through him. The impact of my bulldozer-benching pectorals effortlessly sent the guard flying 15 feet out onto the brightly lit stage. He landed on top of the contestants, knocking a few to their feet. The commotion silenced the cheering crowd. As the MC turned to see the disturbance he nearly fainted at the sight of my giga-mass. My extreme tan contrasted perfectly with my bright white Nike Shox, red bikini top and booty shorts. I looked like a UFC ring-girl who absorbed the Hulk and then overdosed on Human Growth Hormone. Contestants eyed me with both awe and fear. The judges called for more security- two men similar to the first came rushing towards me. Something primal in me snapped as I grabbed each man by the throat and quickly threw them into the crowd below me. I stomped to the edge of the stage and leered down at the judges with a sadistic grin and evil glint in my smoky eyes. My heart began to race as steroid-filled blood coursed through my veins, compounding with my intense rage for the biggest pump of my life. "Look at me now! Am I too big for you now?" I roared, cranking down into THE most muscular pose. I reached down a hoisted up two of the judges by their shirt collars. Spit flying in their faces, I roared, "Look at the monster you've created, this is all thanks to you!" I obsessively began doing bicep curls with their pathetic bodies, pumping my biceps faster and faster. Their weight was far too light and only added to my intense need to make them feel my wrath! Both judges wet their pants and lost consciousness. Angered even more, I hurled the two bodies out into the stands, the impact surely crippling the judges. Seeing them lying their motionless fueled my lust for revenge, for more dominance and violence! Glaring out at the world over my multi-foot deep pectoral cleavage, I grabbed the microphone stand next to me and pulled from either end. The stretched metal sheared in half from the brute power and strength of my bare hands. Audience members and contestants screamed and ran. "Yes! Run! Be scared! Be VERY SCARED!!! You are about to witness the rise of a goddess! The rise of a MUSCLE MONSTER! I am a massively pumped-up muscle building powerhouse, and I. WILL. HAVE. MY. REVENGE!" Swinging my behemoth body I hurled the twisted metal shards at the rear exits, shattering windows and creating more chaos in the audience as they struggled to exit. With an earthshaking rumble, I leaped down from the stage- my now 1,200+ lbs weight cracking the concrete floor like egg shells and sending tremors that registered on the Richter scale. With an animalistic grunt, I overturned the judges table like it was cardboard, sending it careening end over end. Eyeing the carnage and destruction with equal parts glee and fury, my attention fell on my ultimate prize: the stage. Who knows how heavy a full stage is? No seriously...I want to know. There had to have been at least a full ton just in the weight of the dozen or so competitors still on stage. Punching my hands through the wood paneling, I found grip on a metal I-beam running the length of the stage. Roaring like a possessed demon, I began to lift the stage. Nothing. How dare this sorry excuse of human engineering defy me! Tensing my monolithic arms, shoulders and legs, I funneled even more horrific power into my insane musclebound body and began to heave up on the structure. Ever so slowly, more and more cracking could be heard and I redoubled my efforts- pouring even MORE god-shaming , titanic, monstrous strength into my incredibly pumped and still-growing muscles. "You thought I was too big before? HA!!! You think I'm big now? Well just wait, I'm only getting started! Mama Pump is here to show you all true power and mass!" With a horrible shearing noise, a large piece of stage splintered and broke off in my hands. After all, it wasn't built to be picked up in one piece...even if someone was actually strong enough to do so. "Pathetic! So weak!" With a maniacal laugh I beat my chest like King Kong and screamed at the futility of fragile steel. My muscles bloating and expanding and pumping bigger and bigger with every huff and puff. Fleeing audience members tripped as the auditoriums foundation shook from the force of my massively overpowered arms slamming into my wrecking-ball sized pecs. They had said I was too big. There was no such thing. A monster had been born, and I was going to keep pumping and growing until every single one of them regretted ever crossing me.

Hello all. I've been around the forum for some time, and regularly post pictures, but this is my first actual story I've written for the forums. I've chatted on Skype and Discord about freakishly, inhumanly, conditioned bodybuilders and those chats have inspired me to write this (I’ve also posted some of those chat logs here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/9851-extreme-conditioningfreakishly-lean-chat-logs/) I’ve decided to write a contest prep journal of sorts. Following the main character from the start of prep at 16 weeks out up to the competition and immediately after (for those unfamiliar with bodybuilding contest prep, 16 weeks is the standard time you diet for to get ready for a show). Since prep usually starts out slow I move through the beginning quickly and become more detailed the closer he gets. In standard muscle fiction style though, this is no ordinary bodybuilder and no ordinary prep as he ends up becoming the leanest, most inhumanly conditioned bodybuilder anyone has ever seen. I hope people enjoy it. Special thanks to @ShreddedFreaksLoverfor his Jeff stories and the inspiration they have provided, and to all those shred and vascularity lovers I’ve chatted with over the years for the material to draw from. Also thanks to @muscledlust for inspiring me to share some of my rants on conditioning and to all those I've chatted with over the years. The main character’s name is Sven, he’s competed in bodybuilding once before. He also has a day job as an engineer and professor at a university. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 16 Weeks Out Here we go again. It’s been four years since I last competed. My first, last, glorious failure on the stage. Why am I doing this again? After all that pain? After I swore I’d never step on stage again? I get angry just thinking about it. That stupid so called friend and training partner who said he’d help me prep. The feeling of abandonment and disillusionment I felt after the show, of being kicked by the curb and forgotten. Why? Who knows. It’s a world I’ve never fit in. Never been “one of the guys”. Perhaps that’s good though. Most the people I’ve meet in this sport are self-centered, shallow, assholes. Maybe it’s better I’ve never quite fit. I was so angry after that show. Angry at him, angry at all the people I knew at that gym, angry at myself. No, angry isn’t right, disappointed. I had serious potential. I could have won. I had been training for years. Obsessed with muscle and bodybuilding ever since I was a little kid. I remember the first time I saw a bodybuilder, or, at least highly muscular man. Thank god for Soloflex commercials and ESPN. I didn’t even know what I was looking at. All I knew was it was power and masculinity at a level I had never seen. Wearing only a stripped black and yellow spandex singlet, muscles exploding through the fabric. Huge, monstrous, unbelievable muscles. Bowling ball sized biceps, perfectly round and split. A ripped eight pack clearly visible through the fabric. Thighs so big they pushed their legs apart threatening to rip the singlet apart at the seams. Capped with an impossibly massive set of shoulders. So wide and round it looked like he had stuffed football shoulder pads under his skin. Absolute power and strength in human form. I wanted that. I wanted to be that. I was hooked. Anything with muscle, it didn’t matter what kind. Gymnasts, football players, strongmen, bicyclists (big thighs and calves), exercise videos, workout machine commercials, adds for weight lifting sets in Boys Life, muscular actors on TV, and of course the holy grail, bodybuilding books and magazines (this was before the internet). But always in secret. I knew such interests would not sit well with my family, they wouldn’t understand. I was a geek. A young, awkward, probably slightly aspergers, engineer and band geek from a family of academics. We simply didn’t do football, or weightlifting, or “manly” sports. We cross country skied and ran. I hate running. Secretly, at night, I would stuff clothes under my sweatshirt and flex in the mirror a-la Hans and Franz from Saturday Night Live. Wishing I had muscles like those men I so admired. I was always fascinated by american football shoulder pads. Not because I wanted to play football, but because I love the illusion of size and width they gave. Seeing those massive men with mountain range wide capped shoulders and lycra encased tree trunk legs was all I ever cared about with that game. I'd also sneak into my parents closet and steal my dads spandex cycling shorts and bibs. The connection between muscle and compression wear was always apparent to me and I loved the way it felt. Powerful, masculine, strong. In high school, as soon as I was old enough, I started to train, quietly, slowly, under the radar. Some friends and I started lifting at the local YMCA. It was a 45 minute bus ride, one way, and not the most glamorous of places. This was no LA Fitness. The gym was in the old pool (literally). No windows, all tile walls, no AC. I was in heaven. My friends lasted 3 weeks, I never stopped. Despite being a geek and never playing any sports I was always strong for my size. I took quite naturally to lifting. I had no trainer, no guide, and relied on books and articles, but I made good progress. The start of the journey from 140 lb band geek to 230 lb wall of muscle. I love training. Being in the gym is home to me. I'm absolutely addicted. Training your ass off to get bigger and stronger. The mental and physical discipline required. The meticulous diet, every bite engineered not for enjoyment but to fuel and develop your muscles even further. Getting in the gym and working harder than anyone else around you. Pushing beyond what is normal and human, past pain, past weakness, and training like a fucking animal. Your every move, every thought and action dedicated to one goal, one purpose, to transform yourself from a normal, undisciplined, weak, human into a walking god of muscle and power. Unrecognizable from your previous state. No other sport can do that. Turn a man into a god. The longer I trained the more I became obsessed not only with muscle, the size and the power, but with conditioning. Seeing a bodybuilder with obscene road map vascularity, razor sharp cuts, paper thin, grotesque skin, and the most magnificent and shocking off all, striated, alien walnut glutes. It all made the muscle all that more intense and primal. The bodybuilder no longer looked human. No longer a mortal man, but now transformed into a being of raw muscle and fiber. I remember way back when Rich Gaspari freaked everyone out when he walked on stage for the first time with striated glutes. No one had ever seen anything like it before or even imagined it for that matter. It stunned the entire crowd. Now straited glutes are standard, almost required. I love how bodybuilders keep pushing the envelope of what people think the human body is capable of. Evolving into more and more perfected forms. To me the pinnacle of that evolution is conditioning. Zero percent bodyfat, veins covering every inch of skin, cuts so deep you can lose your finger in them, and saran wrap thin transparent skin. Conditioning is the great equalizer. It doesn't matter if your huge roided up bodybuilder or a men's physique guy, conditioning wins, period. It separates the amateurs from the complete freaks who have taken their sport and dedication to the next level. You could have 50 lb more muscle on you than another guy but if he is peeled to the bone without an ounce of fat or water, he wins. Everyone else on stage looks fat in comparison. That is why I love bodybuilding. The transformation from normal human to inhuman, god like, perfection. Through absolute discipline, an insane work ethic, and relentless effort the pinnacle of the evolution of male physique can be achieved. It’s beautiful because it is so rare and difficult. Only the most dedicated ever get close. Seeing how far it can be taken. Seeing how perfected and absolutely fat, water, and skin free the body can become. Becoming a walking anatomy chart that makes people puke and look away when they see it. To me that is the ultimate goal. Let the mass freaks have their day, I vote for the beyond shredded competitor every time. I've been around bodybuilding contests and bodybuilders for a long time. It's insane when you see someone in person with that truly contest ready, obscene, level of conditioning. You can't look away. Every movement is like a cascade of alien muscle and fibers. It's unreal. Nothing about the person looks human. Everything on their body is ripped beyond belief, not just the normal bodybuilding muscles. Their face, hands, feet, everything. Not to mention those gorgeous, walnut like, striated glutes. You don't count as ripped in my book unless your ass looks alien and your face has striations. One of my favorite parts is the face. That sunken in, skinless, skelator diet face you get when you've really achieved anatomy chart status. You can see the jaw muscle fibers and every disgusting cut and insertion on their face. One of the hottest looks I've ever seen. I love the thought of people being able to know you're that ripped just by seeing your face. Fully clothed and you know there’s an inhuman freak underneath, just from one look. I have fantasies about what being that lean must be like. Walking around knowing no one else around you comes even close to the level of perfection you've achieved. Going to the gym and taking your shirt off in the locker room to change and people just stare in awe and disgust. Not so much a freak as a superior man (which can sound bad, but I don't mean it that way). Knowing that you've developed your physique to a level of size and conditioning most will never approach. Perfected and carved like a masterpiece. Knowing you put in the hard work, diet, and training to obtain the physique you want while most others just dream of it. Seeing how others react when they see what a human body can really look like. What it can achieve, compared to their pathetic, fat, weak bodies. The unwavering discipline that you have that they don't. Ultimate alpha status. Wearing normal clothes, knowing that under your shirt is the most insane, grotesque, beyond humanly ripped physique anyone has ever seen, or even dreamed of for that matter. Being at work and knowing you’re an absolute freak. Under your shirt is a dry and skinless eight pack, crawling with veins. Your quads are disgusting road maps with inch deep cuts, and your glutes are so shredded you leave ridges in chairs when you sit on them. You eat chicken and broccoli while everyone else eats doughnuts and hot pockets. You fuel your body and goals, never wavering in your discipline, they don’t. People stare at your face when you walk by, talking behind your back about how "gross" it looks. Your hands covered with hundreds of veins, the skin so thin it gets sucked between each finger. Looking down, lifting up your shirt, and revealing the most grotesque, alien, vein covered abs anyone has ever seen. People around you gasp and stagger back at the sight. It's so unreal, so mutated and alien, people can't even comprehend what they're seeing. You've pushed your body and your conditioning to such an extreme level you no longer even resemble a normal human. The ultimate goal of any bodybuilder, to become so freakish people can't even comprehend what they see. To push what it means to be human to entirely new levels of size, development, and conditioning. Waking up in the morning and seeing your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Barely even able to recognize yourself. Living your life as a fucking freak. Looking down and seeing this skinless, vein covered mutant. Even touching your own body feels alien. All your hard work reflected in that body. Moving your paper-thin skin around your abs and watching how it forces the veins to move. Flexing your pecs and being able to count the sinews and feel each ridge and valley. Knowing you want more. Seeing how your skin could be thinner, the sinews in your chest ever deeper. Waking up every morning knowing that your leaner and freakier than the day before. In bed feeling that your abs are that bit tighter, skin that bit thinner, a new vein in your quad. It feels incredible. You can see the transformation before your eyes almost. That pushes to you work even harder. To be even more strict and disciplined. To push it to the next level and then the next. It becomes addicting. Wanting that feeling every morning. Not being able to wait to see what the mirror tells you you've become. What new level of beyond human conditioning you’ve achieved. I also sometimes wonder if their cocks also get just as freaky and vascular. I love the idea of this shredded as fuck, vein covered, muscular cock to go with that body. So lean even the head has a web of veins popping out. Rock hard, pulsing with garden hose thick veins. The perfected cock for the perfected human body. I think they’d be able to work out their cocks just like they work their muscles. Training them and getting some unreal muscle tissue and development. Bringing the definition of dick skin shreddedness to a whole new level. Crafting this muscular, alien, beast cock. So muscular and strong it can lift weights just like any other muscle. Hold up a man with their cock alone. The true definition of dick skin. Becoming so shredded your entire body is one giant muscular, inhuman, cock of muscle. My ideal cock would be that. Huge, angry, and just as grotesque as the body of the man who possessed it. You could see it bulging angrily against my shorts, so massive and thick you can see its veins through the fabric. Pulsing with blood and power. Trained and perfected just like my muscles. I'm able to exert absolute control over it, flexing and pumping it like a muscle. Able to make it rock hard on command, leaking pre-cum on command. Fed from my massive freak balls. Trained to produce limitless amounts of pre and cum. My cock able to orgasm over and over without ever getting soft. No limit to what it can do. Thicker than a beer can and over a foot long hard. Almost a being all its own. Developed to such a point it’s no longer a just a cock but an embodiment of pure muscle and power. Men see it and instantly try and look away but cannot. They stare at it. Massive and red, angry with power and size. An obscene web of veins crawling over the shaft, wrapping around it, feeding its power. The massive bright red pulsing head. So bloated and developed the fibers running along its surface flex and twitch at my command making the head resemble two huge striated pecs. I watch in horror as I flex and turn my cock head into a symphony of striations and cuts. The massive slit running down the middle, endlessly leaking pre like a fountain. I imagine curling plates with it. The shaft pumping up and flexing growing an even more intense red. It's as if my cock is on fire, burning with uncontainable power and desire. The huge veins explode causing the shaft to transform into an alien roadmap of pulsing, squirming, mountains feeding my cock with more blood, forcing it bigger and bigger. I can see it growing right before my eyes. No longer a remotely human cock, but a grotesque mutation of muscle and testosterone. The true cock of the beyond human, shredded, and skinless god who I’ve become. The ultimate cock for the ultimate physique. All of this which brings me back to that competition. I was big, 250-260 lb offseaon at that time. Fluffy. I had never competed before, so I had some weight to lose to compete. Like most newer guys size was always more important to me than conditioning. Eat, lift, grow, eat, lift, grow, screw cardio. I had no idea how to prep for a show, so I asked a friend from the gym to help me. Long story short, things went south. My so called friend disappeared 5 weeks before the show, I lost my discipline and motivation, and everything feel apart. I came in soft, I didn’t place well, and I was disappointed and angry. I swore I’d never compete again. But it’s always there. Always nagging at me. That desire to try again. To do it right. To show all those so-called friends I had had what a freak I could really be. To set the record straight and prove to myself I could do it. I want to wipe the stage with their pathetic physiques. Win the contest without even hitting one pose. And I feel like I could now. I have the support of my new husband, I’m more stable and secure, and I know what I want. So, being an engineer, I went full OCD, turned on research mode, and came up with a plan. One of my all-time favorite freaks is John Meadows. His conditioning is always fucking unreal. His skin is so dry and thin it's just this grainy, disgusting, paper thin layer holding in an obscene amount of muscles and veins. Just looking at him almost makes you turn in disgust. Cut with veins cover every inch in such number you can barely see anything but vein and muscle. Plus he always touts the most awesome death face and just mutated appearance. Fucking love him. Old man grainy dick skin to an entirely new level. The freaky as fuck thing is that he stays almost that conditioned all year round. It's insane. I read every book he wrote, every training article I could get my hands on, watched every video. I attended seminars with him and learned all I could about contest prep and how to achieve his inhuman level of conditioning. I did this with other bodybuilders too. Frank McGrath, Dorian Yates, Miha Zupan, Helmut Strebl, Alessandro Galli and Carlton Loth among others. Every shredded to the bone, ripped beyond humanity bodybuilder I could find. I learned all I could. I also researched penis enhancement and training literature. Not only did I want to bring the most inhumanly shredded physique the world had ever seen to the stage, I wanted the freak muscle cock to go with it. I developed a training plan and drug regiment aimed at turning my modestly sized cock into a grotesque freak of nature. I’ve already started on this part. A year ago, I started pumping my cock religiously. First just the shaft, and then moving to the entire package. It felt incredible. At first, I couldn’t pump it up much, but over time my ligaments loosened and my cock became accustomed to the routine. Now in a marathon session I can pump it to over 10 inches in length, thicker than a beer can, bright red and pulsing with pre-cum. My balls the size of grapefruit. A true monster cock. I love the feeling of it between my legs. So massive and heavy. The massive mushroom head has become super sensitive and the slit leaks pre almost constantly. I’ve also gained greater control over my cock due to the pumping. My cum volume has markedly increased and I can generate an almost non-stop stream of pre-cum. I can get rock hard on command and my cock is more sensitive than ever. It’s almost like having your cock edged all day. Constant arousal and pleasure. I’m always at least semi-hard. It’s incredible walking around with it pumped, though it took some getting used to. Going to the gym and seeing it bulge through my shorts. Seeing others look, unsure of what they see, unsure if they want to see what they see. The feeling of absolute male power it gives me. Knowing I have a bigger cock than anyone else around. Silly I know, but nothing says alpha male like a giant leaking cock. But it’s not enough. I don’t just want a big pumped cock, nice as it is. I want a massive, shredded, muscular beast cock. Something so obscene men gag at the sight. Something no longer human. The pumping was just the first stage. Getting it used to being huge, being stretched and pumped. Now it was time to start stage two. I planned to train and supplement my cock just like a muscle. Take its now massive pumped state and transform it into a grotesque muscle cock. Now contest prep starts. It’s time to get revenge for my past. To set things straight. I want to walk on that stage the most conditioned, most inhumanly shredded freak of nature the world has ever seen. An absolutely skinless, walking anatomy chart, god of muscle without a single ounce of fat, water, or skin on my body. No longer remotely human. I will be the next Rich Gaspari. The next bodybuilder to shock the world with an unimaginable level of conditioning. Something never before seen or even dreamed of. But that’s not enough. Bodybuilders to this point have neglected their cocks. The perfect bodybuilder would have a cock to match their physique. Hell, some are even ashamed of the bulge in their posing suits. They try to hide it! I will treat it just as any other muscle. I will walk on that stage with a true muscle cock worthy of my perfected, skinless, physique. Bulging obscenely against my poser. The massive shaft and garden hose thick veins clearly visible through the fabric. Leaking an ever growing wet spot of pre. Flexing bigger and harder with every pose I strike. That will be my gift to the world of bodybuilding. Absolute development and perfection of the human body. A new state of masculinity and power. So that’s the plan. Start prep now, enter the contest, and fucking destroy everyone. I want to win without even hitting a pose. Win just taking off my shirt backstage. Hell, win just by letting them see my grotesque and peeled face. Have people puking and gagging just at the sight of me. Unable to even comprehend the skinless, vein covered, mass of fibers and striations in front of them. Wondering how such a person can even exist and, secretly, wanting it. Seeing their faces drop as they realize the have no chance of winning against the freak I've become. They may as well just quit now and save themselves the embarrassment of standing next to me on stage. Of going through their routine pretending that they could even compare, even begin compete against what I've achieved. Standing in witness to the next evolution of bodybuilding. It all starts now… To be continued.

Part One "Yeah, come on, coach, you've got this in the bag!" James was not the only one cheering at the small, but powerfully built men on stage in the over 60's class of his local bodybuilding contest, but he was certainly the loudest, and with good reason. His coach, Larry, was almost certain to win his fifth regional title in as many years and as he finished off his routine with a most muscular that defied his size, he smiled, bowed to the audience and strode off back stage where his student picked him up and grunted "You may only be ten stone, but this is how much I want to congratulate you!" As he placed Larry on the ground a few seconds later, Larry just smiled and said "Remember, this time last year you couldn't even pick me up, but I thank you. It's nice to get some positive feedback from a student" and with that they went off to prepare Larry for the presentation. Larry and James really couldn't have been more different if they tried. Larry was 69 years old, had been training since his 14th birthday and although only standing 5ft 2 tall and weighing 138lbs, his 38½ inch chest, 33½ inch waist, 13 inch biceps, 21 inch quads and 14½ inch calves looked hewn from granite. James, on the other hand, was not only ten inches taller, but worlds apart. He weighed 220lbs, but with a 46 inch chest, 45 in waist, 13 inch biceps, 23 inch quads and 14½ inch calves, it was obvious that he had a long way to go to match his coach, but that did not dampen his enthusiasm for his coach and what he lacked in muscle, he more than made up for in cleverness. Indeed, it was his idea to create a social media account for his coach's bodybuilding exploits, accounts which were regularly shared by the stars of bodybuilding although James made quite sure that everyone realised that Larry's muscle development was following the "PHS method" of training which Larry explained as the "Porthos, Hercules and Samson" method of training until he couldn't do anymore and without any drugs whatsoever. That evening as the two drove home, James nursing the trophy like a baby, he looked at it and said "Larry, did you really mean what you said last year when I joined your gym. That in the space of three years I could win one of these myself!" Larry chuckled "Of course I did, I mean look at your progress. Your bench, squat and deadlift have increased exponentially from nothing to 104lbs, 94lbs and 84lbs respectively, you can pick me up for at least thirty seconds when you couldn't managed it before, and might I note that you've become more confident as well" and with that smiled at him. "Yes" smiled James, "my naked posing sessions after we train" and with that added, "I can't help myself, I say. After I train I feel, well, like, like the biggest and strongest man in the world, I want to rip off my posing suit and flex, flex, flex" "Tell you what then" smiled Larry, "special treat this evening. Before I tuck into my post contest ice cream, we'll pose down together, naked, and you can show me what poses I should do for my next guest posing session next weekend, Deal?" "Deal!" nodded James, frantically.

This is something I started working on today and thought I'd put it out there to see if anyone took to it. It's about a bodybuilding show with a difference and will just be a very short story if I get round to finishing it. Apologies if it's a little rough! THE SHOW “Here, buddie. Take this.” I reached out my right bronzed hand and Blake Woods popped a blue diamond shaped pill into the palm. I looked up at him in confusion. The left side of his mouth was curled into a devilish smirk. “I’m not saying you’ll need it. But it might help ... ease any nerves.” I looked at the mysterious pill and gulped. I’d come this far. What did I have left to lose? I popped the pill into my mouth and swallowed hard. “So, Luke King, are you nervous?” the staggeringly muscular male specimen standing in front of me asked. God YES. More nervous than I’ve been in my bloody life. “A little,” I lied. “You’ll be fine, bud,” Blake reassured me. His sickeningly handsome face softened, and there was genuine warmth in his expression. “Just think of it as a regular show. Don’t feel pressured or obliged to do anything you don’t want to.” I dutifully nodded at the muscle monster before me. Blake Woods. Twenty five years old and one of the biggest muscle freaks on the planet. His tits were humungous, his quads were obscene and all six of his abs seemed to be exploding through his belly in an attempt to escape. “You can just stand on stage and hit some poses if you like. And if you get bored, or you feel uncomfortable, just leave.” I wasn’t sure whether it was because a man as huge and God-like as Blake was being so nice to me, or whether his words were actually reassuring me, but I was starting to feel considerably more relaxed about the rather unique show I’d anxiously agreed to take part in. “Saying that, Luke,” he continued. “I, for one, would be sorry to see you leave.” Something fluttered in my chest. Was there any small hope that Blake Woods was flirting with me, or was he just this nice to everyone? “There’s erm ... just one thing left to do before we hit the stage,” Blake said. I was a little perplexed, but when he raised both eyebrows and signalled down to the one item of clothing I was wearing, a pair of impossibly shiny, blue posing trunks, I knew exactly what he meant. “As awesome as they are, dude,” he began, “you’ve gotta lose the posing trunks.” Oh God. There’s no going back now. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he said, cheekily grinning. He then shook his head and released a short laugh. “God, that was cheesy!” he added. “Sorry, bud. Maybe I’m a bit nervous too.” 300 pounds All American muscle monster and obscenely cocky poser extraordinaire Blake Woods nervous? FUCK OFF! I looked down at his brilliantly purple posers. It wasn’t just his muscles that were big. Blake was fucking packing. Hands down he had the biggest bulge of any current pro bodybuilder, and I was about to see it in all its naked, trunk free glory. Blushing through my bronzed competition tan, I nervously reached for the straps of my bright blue trunks. As I peeled them down my mammoth sized, vein plastered quads, my dick escaped the confines of the trunk material for Blake, and everyone else in the room to see. I was a lot harder than I thought I was, and suddenly exposed, I seemed to be getting harder by the second. Blake, who was still notably wearing his trunks, had a mischievous smirk on his face as he admired my increasingly growing hard on. “I’m not sure you needed that pill after all!” he teasingly exclaimed, still grinning at me. He reached down and whipped off his own posers, all the time his eyes were fixed on mine. If this isn’t flirting then I have no idea what the fuck is. I couldn’t keep from turning my gaze down for long, and when I did, my eyeballs almost popped straight clean out of my skull and on to the pump room floor. Whoever said bodybuilders have small dicks had clearly never seen Blake Woods naked. Pointing right at me was the thickest, hardest cock I think I’d ever bared witness to. No wonder he always looks like he’s shoved something down the front of his posing trunks. Little Blake? Not so bleedin’ little! Not fucking little at all in fact. I couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from his enormously thick, juddering cock. It wasn’t just the size and thickness that was impressive. The shape of it was magnificent too. So many of those muscle worshippers and admirers out there in the world who lost their loads to pictures and videos of Blake Woods on a regular bases, and they’d never, ever know that he was also the proud owner of the most perfect shaped and beautifully sized cock. From somewhere, I found enough bravery to make a flirty joke with the now fully naked, competition conditioned muscle bull before me. “You don’t look so nervous there either, mate!” Blake’s mouth curled into a devastatingly gorgeous grin in response. Before he had the chance to reply, a loud voice filled the pump room. “OK, guys, two minutes before it’s time to hit the stage.” My stomach suddenly tightened with nerves and I managed to tear myself away from the huge, gorgeous, fully naked muscle bull before me to glance around the room. Four other well known bodybuilders of various size, age and nationality filled up the pump room. Standing around, pumping up, and preparing themselves to head out on stage. It might not have been the most unusual sight if it weren’t for one small factor; every single bodybuilder was now completely naked. A few meters from where Blake and I were stood, 212 class pro bodybuilder Anth “The Tank” Tucker was pumping up his insatiably huge, balloon-like pecs. Almost as wide as he was tall, Anth’s entire, bull-like body looked like it was about to burst at any given moment. Brutally sized biceps, blocky abs which distended from his ever growing roid gut and an ass so magnificently big it left the room ten seconds after he did, were all much loved features on this phenomenally size, late thirty-something American bodybuilder. Just a short distance from Anth, stood German muscle daddy Jörg Roth was with his hands on his hips, his naked glutes looking even bigger than they did when they were half covered with posers, talking to young Canadian bodybuilder Cody Watson. It was unique pairing. Jörg’s tank-like physique was bursting with deliriously thick, solid beef, while Cody’s leaner, six foot frame was packed with gorgeously shredded muscle, not least of all his infamous stomach muscles, which included six of the most insanely shredded and beautifully abs in bodybuilding. Jörg’s masculine, handsome looks, smouldering eyes and devastatingly sexy smirk made him one of the most popular muscle daddies on the planet. Meanwhile, with his ridiculously gorgeous, boyish looks, Cody has earned himself a legion of muscle obsessed fans. Most bodybuilding fans would trip over themselves to be anywhere near either, or most probably both, of these two contrasting muscle freaks. And completing the line up was infamous Australian muscle beast Ritchie “2 Guns” Lee, who was applying a last minute spot of oil into his freakishly shredded quads and tight as fuck, tummy popping abdominals. His semi hard cock sticking out in front of him for the whole room to see. The more he rubbed oil into his muscles, the harder his cock seemed to become. Even though Ritchie Lee’s biceps weren’t flexed, I could still see exactly why they’d earned him his nickname. Both upper arms were ridiculously thick and bulged to an almost laughable degree. I couldn’t wait to see them flexed and blown up in all their freakish glory on stage. It wasn’t just his inhuman sized guns that Ritchie was famous for either. He was known for his loud, extroverted personality, and even louder stage presence. Not only did Ritchie pose in the craziest, cockiest and most animated manner, but he had a habit of loudly shouting and bellowing out with practically every pose he hit. Every single bodybuilder in the room was in incredible, jaw dropping condition, but looking around, it suddenly occurred to me that, behind my All American monster of a muscle mate Blake Woods, I was the second biggest bodybuilder in the line up. “You OK there, buddie?” Blake asked, putting his large sized hand on the side of my obscenely huge right upper arm. “I think so. I mean, yeah,” I replied. “You’ll be fine,” he assured me. “Just think of it as a regular bodybuilding show.” But it’s not. It’s not a normal bodybuilding show at all. One of the guys working at the show, the only average sized, and clothed man in the room suddenly made an announcement to the six naked muscle freaks before him. “OK, guys. It’s showtime!” All of the magnificent bodybuilders started to walk towards the stage like a herd of docile bulls being herded into a ring and my stomach suddenly flipped with fear. Blake Woods ushered me to follow him, and my fellow muscle freaks. “Stick with me, Luke,” he adorably said as I nervously took my first steps towards the stage. Now there’s an offer. As I trailer behind Blake, I almost gasped at the rear image of his physique. I’d literally never seen a back as monstrously wide as his. Pound upon pound of thick, superhuman mass spilled out from his frame. And then there was his ginormous sized ass, which looked big enough to feed a small third world country for a month. The sight of Blake’s excessive sized bum meat cause my exposed, hard cock to fiercely jolt and judder. My stomach was doing somersaults and I tried to think about what Blake had advised me earlier. “Just think of it as a regular bodybuilding show.” “Don’t feel pressured or obliged to do anything you don’t want to.” But I DO want to, Blake. I want to do EVERYTHING that I’ve heard happens at this show. Everything I’ve heard and MORE.

Host: Hello everyone and welcome to another season of "Gainers". I am your host Freddi Fit and you may remember me from becoming the muscle alpha I am today on our very first season just three years ago. *Freddi Fit raises a double bicep flex, stretching his button down short sleeves to their limit. "After all, who can forgot that glorious moment when I was voted to steal everything from Hank The Tank who had been growing massive all season. It was a major upset and the audience was ready to see a new alpha show that brute a lesson. Since then I've been living the dreams as America's hunkiest bodybuilder. Well tonight this dream begins once again with 8 brand new contestants. After twelve weeks, one of them will be left with a hulking body while the others leave smaller than they came. And like always, every week you the audience will decide who gets what. Now let's not waste any time here and meet our contestants. Screen switches to contestant video number one. A nineteen year old college wrestler named Cam. "Hey everyone! The name is Cameron, or Cam for short. I've been wrestling for six years and I can't wait to show the other men who the real jock is gonna be. Maybe if you're lucky you might even see me put some of them in headlocks and drain the muscle from them." Screen switches to contestant video number two. A 39 year old college professor who has been working out for many years. "Hello everyone, it Max here. I've been a health science teach for about 10 years and have always wanted more in life. I'm hoping to win and become the next leading model for muscle god magazine. Either way, I'm hoping to teach the other men a thing or two about what it means to be blessed with muscle." Screen switches to contestant number 3. A 24 year old ex fire fighter who recently begun a modeling career. "If you thought fighting fires was hot, wait till you see me on nothing but my suspenders. Hey everyone my names chad. Make sure you vote for me this season so I can become the muscular flame that makes you sweat." Screen switches to contestant number 4. A 31 year old cop from NYC. "Hey. It's Stu. I've been lifting ever since becoming a cop, but to keep the streets safe, I'm going to need your help to grow my guns and have the fire power needed to intimidate the bad guys and fight crime." Screen switches to contestant number 5. A 27 year old businessman. "Hello everyone, being a businessman keeps me quite busy. So I'm going to need your help building these muscles as big as they can get so I can really fill out my suites nicely! By the way, the name is Dominique." Screen switches to contestant number 6. A 42 year old father. "Hello everyone. My name Ken. Before I had children I was in pretty good shape. However since then I've begun to get out of shape. I need your help to be bigger and better than I was when I was younger." Screen switches to contestant number 7. A 21 year old college graduated pursuing a career in acting. "Hey y'all. Zac here. I've been trying to make it big as an actor but you know they are looking for muscular guys these days. Help me become a jacked up actor." Screen switches to contestant number 8. A 25 year old man living in his parents house. "Hi everyone. I'm Tony, and I've been having a really hard time finding a job. Can you help me you help me out and give me the chance to pursue a career in fitness and get the hell out of my parents house. They'd really appreciate it as well!" Tony is clearly the smallest guy. Although he still has slight hints of muscle, there isn't much for the others to take. Host: "Well don't we just have a great batch this year. The group will be entering the growth cell now where they will spend the next 12 weeks changing. Go online now to vote for your top 4 favorite guys who will receive a special serum boost tomorrow night to start off the game. And don't forget to send in your nicknames for each dude. The most votes will decide what we call each contestant from here on. Anyways. Goodnight Gainer fans! Freddi Fit signing off!" *Freddie fit solutes the camera and transitions in to an archer pose as the credits roll.*

This is a story I wrote years ago for my "Muscle Addicts Inc" blog. I've been going over it and making a few tweaks here and there and thought I'd share it here as I work on it. It's far from perfect but some of you guys might like it, or parts of it anyway! CHARLIE’S SECRET One My name is Charlie Steatham and I have a secret. It’s not a secret because it’s something I’m ashamed of. On the contrary, it’s something I love having. A part of me I wouldn’t ever want to change. It’s just not the kind of thing that would really be appropriate to tell a person in most given situations, or the kind of thing the majority of people would really understand even if I did. Let me tell you how I came to discover I even had this secret to keep. It was one Saturday afternoon back in England. I was home alone and innocently flicking through a magazine my parents bought weekly, which specialised in, of all things, radio and television listings. I wasn’t really reading it, just half heartedly turning the pages, stopping every now and then to linger on the odd thing which caught my attention, unbeknownst to me that I was about to stumble on to something which would have the strangest, and most incredible effect on me. An effect like nothing had ever had on me before. Something which would lead me to a world I never even knew existed. I remember feeling my eyes physically widening when I first saw the picture, and how it felt like my heart actually stopped beating for just a millisecond of time. Staring at it, I couldn’t quite get my head around what I was seeing, and why it seemed to have me so completely transfixed. Staring up at me from the page, was the most grotesquely muscular man I had ever seen. Every single one of his body parts was enormous. From the neck up he just looked like an ordinary man, he was handsome for sure, with nothing particularly special about his features, except for the fact his skin was a dark bronzed colour with an oily shine, but from the neck down, his whole body was a mass of gigantically huge, almost cartoon-like balloons of hard, smooth, muscle, bulging so much they looked as if they were about to burst. Every muscle was deeply separated, and most had a number of thick, wiry veins running across them. I had seen muscular guys before. Movie stars and athletes with six packs and tight, hard toned bodies, but the man in this image was something else entirely. He didn’t even look like a human being. He looked like a new superior species of the human race. A sick experiment gone wrong. Some kind of otherworldly creature, computer generated for a superhero film. As this monstrously massive muscle freak of nature, completely naked except for a small, shiny, green pouch covering his genitals, his hands resting on the top of his enormously thick legs, biting down on his lower lip and his face contorted into an almost arrogant but hugely proud expression, like he was having a whale of a time simply just possessing that freakishly huge, anatomy chart like body, stared up at me from the pages of this incredibly ordinary magazine in the living room of my parents incredibly ordinary house, I was completely and utterly hypnotised. My heart was pounding, my mind was racing, and for some reason, my penis was rock hard, twitching and pushing against the material of my boxers and jeans which were now struggling to contain it. This thing which had unexpectedly intruded on me from another world seemed to have this incredible hold and power over me, and I had now idea why. It didn’t feel wrong, but I knew that whatever this effect it was having on me was, it definitely wasn’t of the ordinary. After staring at the image for what seemed like hours, I forced myself out of my muscle obsessed trance, and tried to focus my mind on something else, but I couldn’t. My mind had been invaded, and my thoughts completely taken over by the image of that freakishly huge mountain of enormous muscle. I needed to see it again. I took the magazine into my bedroom and lay on my side on the bed, my upper body perched up by my elbow, the magazine next to me, flat on the bed. I flicked through the pages to try and find the image, and when I did, it was like I was seeing it for the first time all over again. I had no idea what was happening to me, all I knew was that in front of me was something so amazing and special. I had never desired anything more than this specimen of extreme muscle mass. This huge, hulking mountain of thick, superhuman muscle with his air of incredible power, extreme arrogance and hyper masculinity was the most beautiful and sexually provocative thing I had ever laid eyes on. I reached for my throbbing hard on, bulging and straining through my jeans, gently squeezed and started tugging. Soon enough I was popping open the buttons of my jeans and my white cotton boxer encased hard on was sticking out. I tugged and wanked, all the time staring at the muscle freak before me. Staring at the huge mounds of croquet ball shaped muscles which popped from his arms and fought for space with his perfectly smooth and insatiably thick chest, which looked like it was made of marble, but had tiny, wiry veins spread across the upper half. Staring at how his deeply carved shoulders ballooned like two watermelons trapped under bronzed tinted skin, which tightly stretched across the enormous, smooth muscle and looked unhealthily thin. Staring at his six beautifully shaped stomach muscles which looked like they had been carved with a knife. Staring at the incredible mass of lines and ripples etched into his tremendously large, hard looking leg muscles, and while staring at this presumably once ordinary sized man who’d built and moulded his entire body to extreme proportions and made himself look like a member of an entirely new, superior species, who looked up at me from my bed with an expression of complete and utter self satisfaction, and his air of incredible power and arrogance, my entire body seemingly shook, the most pleasurable sensation I’d ever had consumed my entire body, I let out a loud groan of ecstasy and my boxers filled up with a wet creamy liquid. Staring at a picture of, who I later found out was one of the top professional American bodybuilders of the time, hitting a most muscular pose on stage at a bodybuilding competition in probably the best condition of his career, I’d masturbated and made myself cum for the first time in my life. From that moment on, I’ve been completely obsessed with huge, freaky muscle. Nothing turns me on more than the image of competition ready, monstrously muscular, indecently shredded bodybuilders who live and breathe for being huge, who love nothing more than to climb into small, brightly coloured posing trunks, made of the shiniest material imaginable, and to stand in front of a camera, or an audience, and flex, tense and squeeze their cartoonishly big, deliciously carved, deeply separated balloons of thick, hardcore muscle mass, looking both impossibly beautiful and inhumanly grotesque in equal measures, loving every single moment of showing off their phenomenally built, superhero-worthy, circus sideshow freak-like bodies. As one can imagine, it’s a fantasy that stubbornly stays at that; a fantasy. How many ripped and peeled competitive bodybuilders sporting biceps bigger than the size of the average man’s head do you see walking round your local supermarket? None. And how many jacked and shredded muscle freaks one week away from competing at their fourth bodybuilding show of the year do you see on a Friday night at the local pub? Absolutely zero. Of course, there have been some very rare, and exceptionally brilliant moments where I’ve encountered fairly big guys sporting some pretty decently sized muscle, one or two of whom could have easily stepped onto a bodybuilding stage at some point, at various places, and of course, those moments will probably be forever etched into my memory, but for the most part, genuinely huge muscle guys, and certainly bodybuilders like the one in the magazine I found all those years ago, and the ones I have spent countless hours watching and viewing ever since, still remain an extremely elusive and rare breed. The world of extreme bodybuilding is an exceptionally small one, to which I have no ties or belonging to. Except for finding the courage to attend a bodybuilding show which I’ve yet to do, it’s a world I didn’t think there was much chance I would ever step into. That was, until today. Or to be more precise, two Tuesday’s ago, when Professor Walsh (officially my favourite lecturer from the university in California I’m temporarily studying at for a term) presented myself and my fellow students from my Video and Audio Production Techniques class with a list of the options for the first, one day work experience placement of the semester. This is a day where every student on the course has the opportunity to participate in the filming of various types of film, television and video productions. Every student has to select three options, and the Professor tries her best to assign the student to one of their choices. This is not always possible though because, as you can imagine, some of the options are more popular than others and there are only so many students allowed on each placement. Some of the students, usually the louder, more extroverted ones, were intent on getting the big gigs like production on the set of a film, and popular television talk shows. Personally, I was happy with anything that would give me some experience. Copies of the list were passed around to raised voices and excited chatter. I scanned the list to see, sure enough, a well known television talk show, work on an independent film, the set of a fairly well known cop show from cable who were filming in the area, work for a local news television station, and some more fairly obscure productions. Although nothing was particularly standing out as something I had a real desire to do, it all sounded pretty exciting. And then, as my eyes steered down to the bottom of the page, they suddenly widened, my heart leaped into my throat, and I almost couldn’t believe what I saw written on the last line, as the very last option; Filming Backstage at a Local Bodybuilding Competition. My head was spinning. Was this really happening? Was the universe finally providing me with an entry into this world I never thought I would enter? I kept checking the list, looking at the words again, just to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating, and sure enough, there it was. My opportunity to be at, and take part in the filming of an actual bodybuilding competition. I suddenly pictured myself backstage at a bodybuilding competition, in a space packed full of massive, bronzed painted muscle men wearing nothing but tiny sized, thinly strapped posing trunks, each pair shinier and brighter than the next. Every single superhuman muscle brute of a man intensely pumping up his shockingly huge muscles, grunting and huffing with every lift as their huge slabs of man meat strain and bulge through their completely hairless, drum tight skin, and me, standing next to a cameraman, closely filming every single pump of a massive, competition conditioned All American muscle freak, mere inches away from his blown up balloons of bulging, rippling muscle. The fact that I was looking at the opportunity to be in the presence of the kind of muscle bulls I’d been wanking off over for years and to see their enormous, freaky muscle up close in person was mind blowing. However, it terrified me just as much as it excited me. The two days which followed were spent agonising over what to do with this opportunity I’d been unexpectedly faced with. My mind was completely split in half. It felt like two voices had invaded my head, one voice saying, “You have to do this. This is a rare, once in a lifetime opportunity and you will never get this again. It will absolutely amazing, it will blow your mind and you’ll get to see real life, genuine muscle freaks pumping, flexing and posing close up. Deep down you know you want to do this, and if you don’t, you will always regret it.” Meanwhile, the other voice was shouting, “Don’t be stupid, you can’t do this. You will make a fool of yourself. You will feel uncomfortable and nervous. People will look at you and think you are strange. And how will you explain your reason for wanting to do this to your classmates, and Professor Walsh?” One minute, a certain voice would sound clearer than the other, and I would make what I thought was my final decision. But then, out of nowhere, the other voice would suddenly shout up again, and I’d start to doubt my decision again. Even on the day of handing in our choices, sitting in Professor Walsh’s class, with five minutes to spare before the lesson came to a close, I still hadn’t made my final decision. I also knew that if I selected the bodybuilding competition, there was a very good chance I would get the placement. I couldn’t say for definite, but I knew it was fairly unlikely that any of my other classmates would select it as an option. There were a couple of guys in my class with a little bit of muscle on them who clearly went to the gym, but I would have been highly surprised if any of them had a genuine interest in bodybuilding. It was, without a doubt, one of those obscure placements to make up the numbers which nobody wanted to end up on. Well, almost nobody. Professor Walsh was wrapping up the lesson. “OK, class, you might have noticed this red box at the front of my desk.” This was it. My time was up. “By now I presume you’ve all made your three choices for next weekend’s work experience placement,” Professor Walsh continued. “If you’d like to place your completed sheets into the box as you leave. Please keep in mind, you are not guaranteed a place on any of your choices. We will do our best to assign you to one of your choices, but due to limited spaces on each placement, in some cases this will not be possible.” My classmates had started to shift and while everyone was getting out their sheets and gathering their bags in order to leave, I was staring at my sheet with my pen anxiously hovering over it. Two of my choices had been ticked, which just left one. The words “Bodybuilding Competition” leered up at me, testing my every nerve and ounce of bravery. My pen was wavering from the tick box next to it, to the box next to the option of “Production on a Music Video.” The voices in my head both clearer and more frantic than ever, one in battle with the other. Bodybuilding Competition Charlie, you HAVE to do this! Music Video Don’t be stupid. You will make a fool of yourself. Bodybuilding Competition Just imagine it! Real life, genuine muscle freaks pumping, flexing and posing close up! Music Video You will feel uncomfortable and nervous. People will look at you, and think you are strange! Bodybuilding Competition Deep down you know you want to do this, and if you don’t, you know you will ALWAYS regret it! And with one quick motion, I ticked the box next to my third and final option, and my fate was sealed. My heart was pounding as I approached the box on Professor Walsh’s desk, and my hands were shaking slightly as I dropped the sheet in. The second after, I glanced up to see Professor Walsh looking at me behind her desk. A friendly smile was trying to mask an expression of curiosity and slight confusion. She had clearly noticed my anxiety and I felt a sharp, brief pinch that I might have been rumbled. The incident quickly faded from memory, and as I left the classroom and walked along the corridor, the strongest emotion of elation, sheer pride and an overwhelming feeling that I had just done something amazing came over me. I had just taken one step closer to that crazy, amazing world of huge, freaky muscle I never thought I would ever be able to enter.

Chapter One "Oh, you were able to come!" As Roger gave Henry the biggest hug ever recorded in history, his friend gasped "I'm not the Ultimate Musketeer" and as Roger let go he chuckled "Although I could be if you wanted me to!" "We'll save that for the masses!" smiled Roger and with that opened the doors to the SUV and as Henry and Roger piled in all the materials they would need for the Olympia, they jumped in and pointed in the direction of Las Vegas and said in unison "Olympia, HO!" and with that Roger gunned the engine and they were off *** "Your destination is 809 miles away" announced the sat nav as they left Fort Collins "and will take eleven hours and thirty five minutes!" "Wow!" exclaimed Henry, "you do realise that's the same as travelling from where I live to Aberdeen and about two thirds of the way back again. You were right when you said that America was a large country!" "A large country" smiled Roger, "with large men heading to a contest with even larger men!" and with that they both laughed before Roger said "So, how was the flight?" "Flight?" asked Henry, "what flight?" "The flight from the UK to here!" replied Roger "Really?" asked Henry raising an eyebrow, "why on earth would I want to waste money on a flight?" "You never!" gasped Roger to which Henry replied with a chuckle "I did" and with that stated his journey. "I left my home at midnight today" he started, "remembering of course that I'm seven hours ahead of you. I had my luggage with me and so wheeled it down to the beach where I live. Then, and considering it was now a quarter past midnight, I went to the beach hut I have and there I..." "Oh fuck!" moaned Roger, "you did, didn't you?" "...became the Ultimate Musketeer!" added Henry and as he did Roger roared "Oh, fuck, yeah. Go on, tell me what you did!" "Well, after wrapping the luggage onto my back, I dived into the Irish Sea and headed due south west until I got to the Azores a little after three in the morning my time!" "Oh fuck!" moaned Roger, "how fast were you going?" "I'm not sure, but give me a moment" and as he consulted his tablet he replied "About three times faster than an aeroplane, but then I always like to go full throttle when I start!" "And then where?" moaned Roger "Well, I took a right hand turn and headed towards the United States. I think I arrived in, oh, now what was it called?" and with that he looked at the map and said "Ah, yes, here we are, Beverly Beach in Maryland, and that was just about sunrise" "You swum the Atlantic in a little over twelve hours?" gasped Roger "Give or take, yes!" "Oh man, your heart must have been pumping!" "Two hundred and forty beats per minute" said Henry, "about the same as a brisk jog. And from there I ran all the way here" "How long?" moaned Roger, "or should I stop the car now and cum?" "Let's see" came the reply, "I arrived in Maryland at around seven in the morning eastern, so that's five in the morning mountain, we'd agreed to pick me up from the airport at eleven mountain so five hours!" As Roger moaned, he pulled the car over and started scrabbling for something. Pulling out what looked like a drinks bottle, he pulled out his eleven inch cock, thrust it into the bottle and moaned "Speed?" "Three hundred and thirty nine miles per hour" came the reply, "a little under half the speed of sound!" "OOOOOOHHHHHH, FFFFUUUUUCCCCCKKKK!" screamed Roger as he came into the bottle and as he orgasmed panted, "Tell Adam, the next time he visits, take the aeroplane. I don't think I'll be able to stand too many of his go it alone journeys!" "Hear that, Adam" said Henry tapping his head, "on the return journey we book a plane" to which Adam grumped in reply "That's not fair, you know I wanted to swim through the Panama Canal!"

Hello all, Part 2 of Adverse Reaction. I hope you enjoy, will need ideas for my next story, so please feel free to message me with suggestions. For the next few days, Nick avoided me wherever he could. I didn’t see him for several days initially following the unusual events that took place in the gym shower. I had continued to grow all the way back from the gym at a much slower rate; it seemed over the next few days that I also continued to grow increasingly more powerful in the gym. My lifts were going up and up and so was every part of me. I couldn’t believe how strong I was getting, it was like a dream come true. However, despite clearly trying to avoid each other it was inevitable that we would bump into each other in such a small flat. That day came almost 8 days after the shower incident. I was struggling to squeeze myself into my old clothes. My slender jeans and slim fit tops were now discarded in the back of my wardrobe as they split when I put them on. Either that or they fought with pecs for space or dug into my arms and shoulders with incredible discomfort. Now I had to settle for baggy jeans or baggy shorts and my old hoodies or sports jerseys. Unfortunately I owned very few, and all my shirts now, began to stink of man after about 4 hours of wear. Apparently whatever my body was now kicking out, it smelled strong and powerful, just like the rest of me. I waited for a day when Nick wasn’t in. It was a plan that required patience, but I found that my new persona was hungry for a change in the dynamic at home. I grinned as my phone chirped. I looked down and opened up the grindr profile, I had paid extra to have the full app and get the notifications, because it was all part of the major plan. My grin was because, some new pics of me had sent my sexual appeal into the stratosphere and I was enjoying my new found appeal by fucking tight ass like a man in a desert, drinking water, for the first time in months. One new revelation out of all of this, was an increasingly dominant and slight sadistic streak in the bedroom, which had proceed to have grown only stronger in keeping with my outward appearance. I loved to watch down over my newly minted pectorals to see them suck me off, their eyes fixed on mine. The power of it. I knew I was getting hooked on it as a sensation. However, I also knew my plan involved me having to put that to one side, to achieve what I wanted. Knowing what I liked as a dominant in the bedroom, I began to talking to fellow dominant muscle guys. Guys who could gift me the very thing I craved. More power. Posing as a fit, athletic submissive, I found it tough to find the right dominant. Until today. I knew my housemate was out. The timing was perfect. This guy was just right. Arrogant and rude. Older by 15 years. Married with kids. Bulging with muscle and hung to fuck. I couldn’t steal from a guy like me, I had to take it from someone with ego, someone who looked down on me. Someone who only saw me as an inferior male specimen. The phone chirped again. As was the plan, he was coming right over from the gym. I had to be ready for him, on my knees, wearing a sports vest and a jockstrap. I looked over at the bedside table. There waiting for him, fresh from the gym, was an ice-cold, orange coloured protein shake. As I heard the handle of the front door turn, I was on my knees, I picked up the protein shake and held it out in front of me. If this worked, well… This was going to be amazing. He entered. He said nothing, but snatched the shake and kicked me backwards onto the floor from my kneeling position. I dulled the malevolent look in my eyes and watched as he drank the post-workout shake as I had offered to have ready for his arrival. If it tasted of anything, he did not express it. I watched his thick, powerful arms hold the shaker aloft. Sweat streaked his huge physique, he wore only a black string vest and some loose red gym shorts. He kicked off his shoes and stepped towards me. I could smell his fresh, fierce gym scent. My face in line with his crotch, I could smell his uncut cock. Suddenly it kicked in the light polyester shorts. It surged towards me, huge. Bigger than Sam. He growled as I massaged his legs, the organ pulsing to life, growing hard and thick. Moments later, he had lost control, grabbed me by the vest and the jock, shouldered his way into the bedroom and dumped me on the bed. Only, this was Nick’s room. I didn’t have time to correct things, as this guy was on me. Using me for his own pleasure. His cock pulsed down the length of my back, he grabbed me by the neck and I felt the searing pain of his cock enter me. It was brutally painful and I grunted, but he stifled it with one big sweaty palm over my face. He rammed my face into the bed, forcing my ass up. My hands gripped the edge of the mattress and I was forced to breath in my housemates acrid stink, which would have previously made my own cock harden. But I was becoming a different creature now. I wanted to fight back and push this asshole off me. But I wanted to grow. I had to be right, it had to be this luminous orange shit Sam had been necking everyday. The guy behind me, grunted and laughed at my apparent pain. His organ really was monsterous and he was damn strong. I could hear the wooden bedframe, creak, that unmistakeable sound of wood splitting as he ploughed me. Nick’s furniture moved across the floor between each, titanic thrust. Then it happened, I felt his cock thicken, and then thicken again, straining my hole. I felt him began to fire round after round into me. The change, was immediate. I felt it inside me. Like a spark to a freestanding pool of diesel. I ignited. My head rose up. “Oh fuck yes… FUCK…. YES….” Was about all I could utter as it ripped through me. Energy, masculine energy suffused my limbs. I felt my ass kick back, my thighs bulge with new mass. Fuck, I felt strong. My back cracked and I lengthened up the bed. I grinned as it hit my shoulders. I was no longer able to hold onto the roleplay fantasy as I felt my shoulders undulate and widen, lats surging in power. “Yes… I’m g-growing… This is fucking amazing…” I felt the softening cock slip out from me. I rolled over and saw the expression in his face. It was a face I had not seen before, a mixture of revulsion and desire. He loathed watching me grow but desired it for himself. He was torn, he felt drained, he wanted to leave, but he needed to know how too. I extended my longer legs over the bed, sprung forward with my strengthening arms and stood in front of him. I grinned at him only now slightly less tall than him, but in a split second, the margin vanished. I growled again. My pecs surged and thread of my vest creaked and split at the shoulder. I inhaled deeply and the split widened into a tear, revealing the bulging mass beneath the fabric. Another tear, this time from below. He looked down and went pale. His prior former glory, soft and hanging limp, looked smaller than he had every seen it. It’s mass, very obviously being siphoned into its opposite number as my small jock was being shredded by the growing mound of my package. I laughed as it tore open the jock at my right hip and my newly grown organ fell forwards, thick, large and pointing menacingly at him before it pulsed larger again. My nuts beneath, not left out from the transformation. I brought my arms up and flexed, they bulged with power. My features refining, my masculinity surging as he, went the other way. His previous bulging ripped physique, was still big, but much softer. He was shorter, looked less masculine but I mostly seemed to have drained him of his cock, which looked woefully average now. He looked between my taught biceps and his own softer upper arms as I flexed, I was captivated my their shape and bulge, a big thick vein now across the surface of my left bicep. I looked back at him. “Now fuck off, or I’ll take more…” His trainers made a plastic squeal as he made for the door, stumbling twice over his now, too large shoes. I grinned, turned to Nick’s mirror and flexed. This was amazing. It would be several more days before I could take this new found ability and turn it back against Nick. Had I felt any pang of morality about going through with it, it seemed to evapourate with my last growth. I considered, I was becoming no better than Nick or the asshole who just saw me as a convenient hole, but somehow, I didn’t seem to mind. ********* It was on the day when I had no more clean sports jerseys to wear that I squeezed my newly bolstered frame into the biggest tee I had. Instead of looking ridiculous, I looked incredible. I was never going to hide myself again I snickered, watching myself in the bathroom mirror, my biceps straining the sleeves, chunky veins emerging from beneath the cuffs and my new enhanced pectoral shelf straining the shirt. Just looking at myself made the sleeping organ in my jeans pulse. As I was about to flex in the t-shirt, I heard the door to the bathroom swing open and Nick stepped in. He was dressed only in a towel. “I need a shower” “Yeah, I’m nearly done Nick, you can wait 2 minutes” My blood burned as it pumped through me. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I had stood up to Nick, this was incredible. He looked at me malevolently. As I finished tusseling my hair with wax in the mirror, I gazed admiringly as my biceps swelled at bulged as my hands worked on my coarse, thicker hair. I glanced across in the mirror, Nick was watching my arms too as our eyes never met. “Right, all yours bro…” I grunted and exited the shower, smiling at the unmistakable hardening of Nick’s thick organ against his towel. He would never before have gotten aroused by me, but I couldn’t be sure if it was his protein that caused it, or whether Nick had always been secretly attracted to muscular jocks. As I walked out of the bathroom, it dawned of me that Nick would be in there for some time. His room would be unguarded. Checking over my shoulder, I crept into his room. The scent of his room more familiar now that my own bedroom was developing its own masculine scent. A quick glance across the counters and floors, did reveal that Nick had been entertaining Jenna recently. He left the very thing that I wanted, just lying there. I grinned and got to work. I traced the edge of my water bottle with a finger through the car ride, its precious cargo the only thing I could think about. Nick’s malicious gaze continued to drift from the traffic ahead onto my swollen arms, the size and obvious power, stretching the sleeves of my previously baggy t-shirt, whereas his underarmour hid what he had clearly lost very well. He had managed however, to quite easily convince himself, he was no less of a man than he was the previous week. As we arrived at the gym, as we exited the car I took my first gulp of my water bottle, the lemon juice not really disguising the digusting taste of his ejaculate. I loved the feeling of pure energy as it burned down my throat before setting a raging fire within my gut. More suddenly than I expected I began to feel myself grow as we crossed the car park, I could feel the arms of my t-shirt dig into hardening biceps, my burgeoning arm reached down to readjust my package which was becoming rather uncomfortable in my new jock, I bought to replace the previous one. “Stop playing with yourself…” Nick scolded his voice breaking as he did so. I loved the feeling, watching him wilt as I grew stronger and stronger. It was hard to avoid the temptation to drink all of the contents of my shake, but I resisted. I walked over to an empty weight bench, the agreed exercise to be shoulder press. After a quick warm up, I grabbed his usual working weight and hefted it over to him. He looked a little anxiously at the large imposing dumbbells before turning his face into a snarl. He hardened the look as he got his arms into the perfect start position with a little help. I stood back and took another big swig of the potent protein shake. On his second rep and his arms visibly twinged as his muscle thinned, his face strained as his arms struggled. “Bro…” he struggled growing red in the face As his face glowed so the change rocketed through me, I could feel my chest swell outwards. My tee was now edging towards dangerously snug. The end of my shorts were now rubbing the top of my knee and not the top of my calf as the flourishing muscle and elongating limbs, pulled them vertically. I positioned myself behind him, and applied a very firm pressure from beneath his elbows to help with the weight, but he still struggled, the contours of his elbows feeling flatter and softer. His weakening arms inched upwards a little more before stopping, as his muscle ebbed, it felt like I was draining it right out of him. Nick’s arms collapsed and the heavy dumbells came clattering to the floor, he leaned forwards onto his knees totally spent. Before we switched seats I took another big swig of the shake. My weight was less than Nick’s but much more than I would normally throw around. I hefted the weight into position, getting one up with the help of a quad, as the undeniable cracking of the hem of my shorts resounded in the air of the gym. I pressed the weight, from my stance I could feel the bulge in my underwear swell, the feeling of wellness and masculine power bolt through me as I pressed the weight, after the second rep, it felt light. It felt like the worlds best pump. But I knew better, I was growing still. I racked the weight, and grinning, watched Nick’s face fall as I grabbed more weight. I restarted shoulder pressing the heavier dumbells, now matching Nick’s weight, it was tough at first but it got slowly easier as I felt my growth continue but at a slower pace. The delts fought back hard against the taught fabric, the power of the muscle winning out on the fifth rep, as two seams cracked. The protuberant muscle tearing the fabric apart. I grinned at Nick who looked white with shock. The sixth rep, forced the muscle to bulge larger again, the stronger, harder, steely muscle tearing more of the seam like a knife through butter. I felt the pressure around that shoulder relax and I grunted a lewd moan, feeling the sinew burst from its cloth prison. “Oh fuck yeah… growing…” I grunted. I turned to the mirror, bringing both my arms up displaying their new expanded form. As I gently flexed, more cracking was audible. I drank in my new form, whilst openly taking long stares at Nick, he seemed weaker by the second where as I was empowered. My skin seemed to glow with vitality, my features more masculine and edgy and my eyes sparkled. I couldn’t remember, ever feeling this good. I think, looking back on it now, objectively, this would probably have been enough to address the power balance in the flat, to bring things back to an even keel, but something inside me had grown stronger too. I felt that “evens” wasn’t enough, I didn’t even wrestle with the desire, I simply gave into it, to the temptation to take more, to feel the power course through me again. I chugged some more protein shake and suggested some lateral raises. Nick for the first time, seemed almost defeated but agreed. I watched as we moved over to the smaller free weights. I watched Nick gingerly pick up the 8kg. “Shoulder injury…” he coughed, by way of an excuse for not using his normal weight. I watched as he began the exercise, his weakened musculature, struggling with the small weight. His arms shook and sweat seemed to pour out of him. I grabbed heavier weights and began exercising next to him. My eyes firmly locked onto the powerful body I barely recognised in the mirror, Nick looked on, watching striations burst out of my skin into prominence. Exhausted he let the weights hang by his side as I grabbed heavier ones. By now, I could feel others in the gym watch as my shoulders swelled and veins pulsed over the surface. I wracked the dumbells and brought my arms up into a flex. The swollen arms and shoulders, openly tearing the arms of my vest with audible cracks. “YEAH!” I roared, totally absorbed in this power, not caring how the transformation was affecting not just my body, my whole personality. On reflection, how many of us could be in this situation and not take it all, how many of us would turn down the opportunity to be elevated above others. Maybe, the old me could have turned back on it, but the testosterone tearing through my body, urged me on, pressing me to turn the knife in Nicks wound. At least, I tell myself it was that. Before I could pose again, Nick was gone. I glanced over to see him slip back into the changing rooms. I grinned, casually following him, sauntering through the gym, as other guys eyed my new form, probably the first time they’ve ever noticed me over my flatmate. In the changing rooms, Nick stripped and hurried into the shower. I could barely stop myself from grinning as my ruined workout shirt hung off my surging frame. I gently peeled the remains off, letting it drop to the floor as my chest caught my eye. Not only was it distended with muscle, but a fine coat of hair was now generously coating it, only adding to overstate the power and evolutional masculinity behind such a display. My thickened legs were swelling as I padded from foot to looking in the mirror, eagerly flexing my now bulgy and rounded biceps, the forearms crammed with veins and distended with a sickeningly thick spread. I chugged down the last of the precious shake. My eager guzzling causing the odd drip to land haphardly on my swollen pectoral shelf. Even as my left hand casually quested for it, I felt it absorb into my skin. It was like my body was adapting to Nick as a source of food. With my legs rolling over each other, I made for the shower. I knew Nick would want to once again try and put me in my place, with the only advantage he still had. I deliberately entered the shower, facing an opposite shower head to Nick. I felt the familiar surge within me, the change was coming, and this would be a big one. I knew Nick had his back to the shower head, as he always did, any excuse to show off his almighty package to anyone who would glance at it. I glanced out of the corner of my eye, his once proud muscle, softened, his hard look now distinctly puffier and flatter. His once thick neck, now looking thinner and less impressive. His typically rounded biceps looking more fusiform and slender. Yet, I was still aware his package had remained large. In his rush to get into the shower, he hadn’t appeared to notice the other changes to his body. “You think that I wouldn’t notice Sam?” He said suddenly, as I felt my back begin to furtively thicken. “Notice what bro…?” I asked innocently, turning halfway to face him. “You stealing my protein powder… It’s really good stuff bro, but I’ve hidden it now. I’m not sharing anymore with you, so enjoy the growth, because believe me, when I get back on it, I’m gonna make your life pure hell” He grinned at me his features malevolent. His hand reaching down and palming his thick, long piece of meat, grabbing the base, he gave it two quick tugs. If he registered that it didn’t seem as big, or as long as usual, his face didn’t reflect that. “However big you get, you’ll never be bigger than me where it really counts” He said laughing. But his laughter died away when I turned to face him. He drank in the image, watching, as my muscles seemed to bulge bigger. His mouth moved wordlessly as if trying to speak but unable. I felt the dragon roar up within me as power streamed through my body. I felt my legs lengthen, taking my growing profile in higher, I couldn’t believe how strong, how powerful I felt. “Alright fine…” I said finally, breaking the silence “But… I think you’ll find Nick… that I’m the one bigger where it counts and if I’m bigger, you have to suck it…” I continued Nick, his eyes darting between my chest, abs and, what was now a bigger than average flaccid cock. “Heh, I’m still bigger bro, you got yourself a deal. And if I’m bigger I guess that means you have to suck mine!” he grinned. “well… alright then…” I said feeling my growth slacken off again He began massaging his cock, it would have been impressive by anyone’s standards, of course, anyone that hadn’t seen Nick before this week. Now as I played with my own thicker, longer tool, it felt great as it engorged and grew hard as steel, the whole throbbing pole feel amazing in my hand, better than ever before. What I presume Nick used to feel. My bigger, swollen balls, pulsed with energy, my skin on fire. To my surprise, Nicks cock thickened obscenely, hanging lower and lower as he caressed it with a fist, soon it grew harder and began rising up, pointing straight at me. My sword rising to meet the opponent, like the calm before a joust or fencing tournament. He stepped forward, my eyes angled downward to meet his, I was growing taller. Again if he registered this, he chose to ignore it. Instead, he grabbed my big thickening pole and pulled me in closer toward him. But I grinned as I felt his purple, engorged cock head jab into my abdomen. My own cock, falling just a few millimetres short to do the same to him. I watched Nick return the smug, arrogant look plaster all over his face again. “Heh, you know, I’m gonna enjoy this…” he smiled, placing a hand on my thickened and bulging shoulder. I tried to look dismayed as I sank to my knees, the flexion making my quads bulge and distend. I’m not certain if Nick noticed much of what was happening, but glint in his eye suggested that somehow he was oblivious. I gazed upward, with as much of an innocent intent as I could muster, made all the easier as he gently slapped his cock against my mouth. I didn’t even have to time react as he bucked his now seemingly slender hips forward and penetrated my mouth with his thick organ. I concentrated on supressing my gap reflex and kneading the rigid shaft with the breadth of my tongue as he firmly handled the sides of my head for his own pleasure. As he thrust in, I could feel the last of the effects of the tainted protein shake start to slacken, but things were already accelerating toward my eventual victory as I watched Nick sneer, his legs buckle and toes curl. His insistent and powerful thrusting increased in intensity but weakened in power. I could take his cock more manageably in my mouth; I knew my grip on his legs strengthened as those very legs diminished. Then I felt it, before he knew about it, before even the tidal wave of his cum hit me. I felt the spark of power deep within me, grow hot and brighter with every passing second. I focussed on feeding that sensation and sucked hard on his cock and it felt like the dam burst within him as his cock pulsed and rope after rope of his thick white ejaculate launched into my mouth. I felt like I had the energy to run a marathon or move boulders, as I continued to suck hard on his organ. Within seconds, my thickened musculature began to grow again as I took everything Nick had to offer. I glanced up at Nick, his head back, totally gripped in pleasure, his eyes half closed. I watched as I saw his chest weaken, his abs lose definition, and his thighs lose the impressive thickness. I knew his cock was shrinking too as my mouth now held his whole length easily. I also knew exactly where it was going. On my knees, my now impressive slab of meat between my legs was hanging over a bigger pair of bull balls and grazing the wet tile beneath my legs, with every passing second, I felt it reel out and rest on the tile like a python. I couldn’t physically wait to see the new me, but I could feel myself growing larger and stronger by the second. The feeling was indescribable, save for the undeniable and unassailable power that coursed through every inch of my body. As pleasure washed over him, he placed a hand on my shoulder. I looked up, as he looked down, curious about the sheer size and breadth of the rugged, rock hard shelf he had gripped on to. As our eyes met, I licked the head of his cock clean and pulled the much shorter, dare I even say small, cock from my mouth and grinned up from the floor at him. He said nothing, as his eyes darted around my newly enhanced body. In a split second, his cock bucked and he came again, only managing two single ropes this time as it shot out and hit my chest. He watched as it absorbed into my skin and my pecs swelled even more freakishly than before. My shoulders widened and a involuntarily growl escaped my throat as I grew again. He fearfully stepped back, that’s when he noticed his transformation, in the opposite direction. “Whu- you… you took it?” “You gave it…” “No… I would never give it…” His voice sounding hollow and almost childlike “How…?” he ventured “I think it’s your protein, it’s nothing I’ve done” I said flatly I rose to my feet. I had grown so large, I put my final height at maybe 6’4, maybe more, my muscle, huge, thick, maybe 250/260lbs easily, eager and desperate to be used. I looked down at him, gone were the protuberances of his muscle, the towering, masculine height. His cock limp and shrunken. Despite this, his wolfish good looks remained, and the innocence in his face made his eyes sparkle even more. There was little more to say. He took one last look at what used to be his before turning and running. By the time I had gotten back to the flat that night, he was already gone. His stuff was mostly packed, he’d left most of his clothes, since they no longer fit him but he’d packed the important stuff. He left the weights and the bench. But I suspected that now they would be too light for me. I walked into the kitchen, not unhappy with my current situation. I wore only a pair of sweat pants, my big, muscled physique clearly on display, my obscene bulge displayed through the thick cotton fabric. I smiled as realised Nick left all his food, kitchen supplies and his vast array of supplements. But, on closer inspection, there was a gap above the refrigerator, my new vantage could show me that there was a footprint where something used to be. Nick had taken the experimental protein shake with him.

Part 1: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1510-belly-down/ Part 2: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1525-belly-down-part-2/ Part 3: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1530-belly-down-part-3/ Part 4: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/3401-belly-down-part-4/ Part 5: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7002-belly-down-part-5/ Part 6: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7146-belly-down-part-6/ Part 7 “Good work, Hans, but watch yourself. 283” said Coach John as he confirmed the weight on the old scale. Normally, I would have stuffed my chest out at the proclamation of my name but, in all honesty, I was beside myself as I turned and aimed my big body toward the mats. No matter how much my big, veined arms pulsed or my rolling legs bulged or my abdominal muscles flexed, I still wasn’t truly satisfied. I wasn’t going to be satisfied until my training exceeded the progress I’d seen from the little red-headed pipsqueak. Speaking of the devil, I halted in my tracks as I nearly collided with something shorter than me but almost as wide. I scowled at the face not many inches below mine but quickly brushed past the owner as I continued my passage. Just as I left the exit, my minions in tow, I heard numbers I’d been dreading. “264, Kenny. Goddamn, you’ve gotten big.” “Yeah, sorry, Coach. I’ve been hungry for more like a beast” came the deep and booming voice of Kenny. I need to be stronger, more powerful, I thought with vigor. I grabbed my Powerade from one of the benches as I passed the doorway. “Hans, wait. That’s not yours! You had a red Powerade! That one’s—“ My comparatively tiny lackeys collided with my bulging back as I halted in my tracks. All it took was a single glare of my flaring blue eyes to halt them. They knew who was boss. No one beneath me was allowed to question my actions. Without breaking eye contact, I ripped the lid of the bottle and guzzled the blue liquid as if it were the victory I’d craved from my opponents. My chin dripped with the little I missed and trickled down my hulking bare chest like a river. Without thinking, I threw the now empty container at the trash can, uncaring of whether it made it or not, and pushed through the double doors to train. I am and will always be the best— “Ugh, Miststück” --- Kenny turned at the loud roar from behind him, turning from the coach. “Kenny! Attention!” Kenny quickly returned back to his standing position on the machine judging his weight. “You’ve got your info, you’re too big to shrink down to a lower class so you’re going in for heavyweight. Off my machine!” roared Coach John. Kenny leaped off, something that seemed pretty odd on someone with as much weight as he carried. It had only been a few months since he was a midget at almost less than 100 lbs. With 264 pounds on a 6’3 frame, he was definitely a big guy by most standards. The other team members often moved around him in fear of colliding with his meaty tonnage. The last person to do so slammed into him like a car collision and was sent to the floor 6 feet away. Proud of yourself? If half the things you thought were audio recorded, any Psychology class would think you’re a narcissist. We’ve got other things to deal with. Was that my imagination, I thought loudly. No, I felt that too. Something’s up. That felt….. familiar. What does that— Don’t worry about that, it’s late. We’ve got to go fight crime or else who will stop the meteor from hitting Tokyo?! Just shut up, Kenny said as he also left the room, his teammates still lined up to be weighed. Neither he nor Nick noticed the Powerade bottle, only the strange energy coming from the locker room’s exit. Had they noticed the bottle, they’d have noticed the strange coloring. Or the demonic energy coming off of it. Or the demonic ritual circle burned into the bottom. --- The gym was dark as the staff had left all but a few of the facilities open for one of the college athletes who’d insisted on remaining. Normally they would have insisted but it’s hard to deny 6 and a half foot giant like Hans. The German hulk of a man roared as he tumbled on the wrestling mat like a monster looking for prey. His mental imagery of his enemies was what pushed him through the grueling hours of training, his big sweaty body pulsing with strain and power. Each muscle was wrapped in tanned and bulging reddened skin that stretched the tight signlet with each movement. His proportions, especially for someone his size, exuded girth and power that most couldn’t acquire without as much genetic advantage and hard work as he coveted. Hans fell flat on his round butt cheeks as he exhausted himself practicing a grapple using a dummy the team liked to use for learning new moves. The plastic doll was mangled from use but definitely far more so after Hans exerted his power onto it. His thick knuckles squeezed and bent the object like a cobra. Hans had worked against the doll for hours, since the time his weight was recorded. Still he wasn’t satisfied. His eyes glazed over with the vision of Kenny taking down opponents over the months. The little wrestler had grown into a power house and rapidly chased Hans in strength and size. Hans had been doing his best to train against those weaker than him in his weight class but he was too strong for any one of them to be worth a challenge. His two lackey-friends were amongst those weaker members and, although they were good at throwing their weight around, both were easy to overpower with their bodies being mostly fat. Hans was against the wall now as all the odds were against his progression. He was too strong, too big, and too good for anyone to train with and the new rival to come out of his former bully target was fast approaching him. This frustration seemed to almost choke him and send tears to his eyes. His parents had sent him cards congratulating him no his success in America and hoping for him to continue to advance in the ranks until he was the best of the best. But he wasn’t just muscle, he used his brains like a scholar. He knew that, at the rate Kenny was going, he could and would approach his size. Where could this growth spurt have come from? He’d doubled in size and was quickly reaching the ceiling of weight class. Hans couldn’t afford to grow more than 2 pounds with the same restrictions. He wanted more power but his body was already giving him plenty and, with a few years, would give more but not at the speed he wanted. College was short and success was within reach. Hans sat up from his sprawled position, his veins bulging desperately to produce blood and his sweat dripping onto the mat. He lifted his hefty body up and quickly lunged for the dummy when something felt wrong. “Wha—“ I—Can—You------- Big------------ Hans’s brow wrinkled and his blurry, tear covered vision shook. Something was speaking into his mind like a voice over a radio. He hadn’t noticed his body was not only numb from the pain of training but from general lack of feeling. One moment he saw colors in view and the next, they all smoothened to over in blue, as if he put colored contact lenses on incorrectly. Hans roared a german swear word as his big pecs squeezed and his big biceps flexed and his hands reached as if grabbing a ball in the air. His body convulsed for a full minute and his face reddened with the strain before…… nothing. Hans felt as if he was between being awake and being asleep. He looked up at the ceiling, all of the color returned. He sat and looked down at his hands as if nothing had happened, his legs still entangled with the plastic dolls body. Suddenly, Hans felt his entire arm bulge and, as if a bomb were in his arm, his arm bulged out of proportion with the rest of his body. “What the—“ You don’t need to use another weird German swear for this, right? I honestly couldn’t handle it. Hans felt his body parts bulge in odd places as his portions distored to something other than human. The muscles grew like balloons, tightening against one another as each joint was quickly filled to capacity with power before being widened and stuffed again. You’re quite a specimen. I could just fill you full of muscles and you wouldn’t pop until you were tall enough to crush a freight train with your pinkie toe. Excellent! Hans couldn’t concentrate on what the suddenly loud and strangely proper voice said to him as he tried to control his body. The muscles coming into him were hot to the touch and filled him with as much power as there was weight. We’ll have to keep you on the minimal output for now though. You’ll get too big for belief at this rate. Then that red idiot will spot me instantly. I’ll have to take precautions to avoid his detection. Hans tried to scream but someone refused to allow him to do so as his muscles filled his huge body until even his height of 6 and a half feet tall was filled to the brim. It was only when his singlet tore down the middle of his chest and his now gigantic feet blew his shoes that the growing ended and he was able to breath again. Muscle filled his vision in almost all directions. His shoulders scrapped his ears and his traps pushed his head forward. Han’s square jaw couldn’t be lowered as two unnaturally round cinderblocks the size of watermelons swelled beneath and restricted his movement. He couldn’t see below but, feeling the difficulty moving his other limbs, he had grown terrifyingly big, too large for the clothes he’d recently bought at the Big & Tall store nearby. He felt power from his tight abdominals and round arm muscles that he’d never before felt. Every movement of his thick and colliding thighs was an orgasmic feeling of utter power unlike anything he’d ever experienced. His thick forearms were thicker than any bicep and were veined like an ant hill diagram. Just as he felt all the power and energy enter his brain, something long and thick slapped his stomach, both surfaces hard enough to make a thud audible throughout the gym. Hans gasped as he witness a big, drooling cock head glaring at him, the foreskin pulled back as it couldn’t contain such a leviathan. Don’t worry, I’ll make this ride equally enjoyable. Humans don’t have many needs. Sex and power, correct? Hans struggled to agree as the contact of skin made him moan and even moving his torso stroked the godly phallus. So, which do you think is appropriate to balance out this power? Take some power off the top or make you taller? Hans was close to orgasm as he felt his spine tingle and then snap as if it were stretching itself. To Be Continued…..

NOTE: THIS STORY IS GONNA' BE VIOLENT. STOP NOW IF THAT TURNS YOU OFF. When Krishna was a child, he was, for the most part, normal. He always had an unnaturally beautiful face, one that could go on the cover of a magazine without any Photoshop. And he always was strong for his size, and loved playing rough. But nobody could have expected him to become the monster he is today. Once he hit puberty, Krishna’s growth skyrocketed past all human records. Krishna's metabolism was flawless - he never seemed to lose his pump, instead growing bigger and stronger after every workout. His body reacted explosively to even the slightest exertion, pumping up as huge and hard in fifteen minutes as a normal athlete would in an hour. He would eat at least eight times a day - a full meal every two hours - but only seemed to gain muscle, never fat. He could eat ten buckets of Blue Bell and still be as lean and ripped as Mr. Olympia. His heart pumped with enough force to kill an elephant, and his senses were so developed that he could see an ant and hear its footsteps from twenty feet away. His body naturally produced and utilized ten times more growth hormone than an average Olympic gold medalist. But despite experiencing a hyper-puberty that pumped his muscles with enough testosterone to swamp a high school locker room, Krishna never experienced any of the downsides of adolescence. His face seemed to evolve almost overnight from the sweet, effeminate innocence of a child to the seductive, masculine eroticism of an adult. He never once experienced a single pimple or an awkward voice crack. His voice dropped almost instantaneously into a deep, sexual rumble that made Barry White sound like a pipsqueak. His earth-shaking tones were so powerful that he gave straight men boners just by saying his name. He could hardly go through a day at school without giving at least one teacher a standing orgasm. By the time Krishna was a sophomore in high school, he had the body of Mr. Olympia and strength that surpassed any powerlifter. He destroyed the competition on the football field and the wrestling mat. He could shoot with perfect accuracy from anywhere on the basketball court. He ran cross-country with speed that would make Usain Bolt green with envy. And there was a genius brain behind that pretty face with a hunky body - by the end of his freshman year Krishna had already earned a perfect score on the SAT. His brain created neural connections so fast that he could read through entire graduate-level textbooks in a single afternoon. Krishna first learned of his love for violence when he was 15 years old. He was playing a game of football when he saw the kid. There was something about him Krishna hated - maybe it was his ugly smirk, or his nasally voice, or his obnoxious strut. But whatever it was, Krishna decided that he wanted to take the faggot down. He made it look like an accident. Krishna ran straight into him - a tackle so forceful that the man's spine, ribcage, and skull cracked. The boy hit the ground, breathless. After that, it was decided that Krisnha was too dangerous for sports. But Krishna discovered that killing that kid was way more fun than playing football. Later that night, Krishna went to his neighbor's house, an old pervert that was always ogling the hot young teen. Krishna showed up at the door wearing nothing more than a pair of black briefs, which were stressed and strained to the max by the boy's enormous manhood. The homo dropped to his knees, his eyes so wide that they might have popped out, his heart beating so loud that Krishna could actually hear it. The man rubbed his small, weak hands all over Krishna's quads and calves and ass, unable to believe such perfect musculature existed, unable to believe this was really happening, unable to believe that the hottest man in his sad little closeted gay life was standing right in front of him. Krishna pulled out his jawbreaking penis and shoved it in the man's inadequately sized mouth, tearing apart the sides of his lips and dislocating his fragile jaw. When Krishna was done facefucking him, the man was nothing more than a bloody stain on the dirty carpet. Krishna started sneaking out to the city after his parents fell asleep. He would find some skinny boy in an isolated part of the local college campus. Krishna would lead the poor sucker into a dark alley and give him a kiss with his full juicy lips. The guy would be so turned on, never having experienced such an amazing kiss in his boring suburban life, and he would cream his pants with his pitiful seed. Then Krishna would give the closet case a hug, and the poor sap would cream himself again, never imagining that he could ever be surrounded by so much dark,powerful, manly teenage muscle. But then he would squeal and beg for Krishna to let go. But Krishna wouldn't. He would keep tightening and tightening his death hug until the boy chest caved in and his spine shattered. Sometimes Krishna found a couple making out in the corner of a deserted parking lot. Krishna would make eye contact with the male, and the man's erection would grow bigger and harder than any woman could ever make him grow. Then Krishna would grab the woman and fuck her like a jackhammer as her boyfriend watched, his sex so mind-blowing that each and every thrust bringing forth a new orgasm from both the man and woman. Krishna's stamina was so great that he could fuck for hours without stopping. Eventually, the man's heart would give out, unable to handle so much sexual pleasure, and the woman's body would simply fall apart under Krishna's pussy-destroying cock. Once, a cop stepped in on one of Krishna's kills. Krishna started walking towards the cop, and the cop, panicking, drew a gun and emptied his barrel. Krishna dodged the bullets without even looking at them, his lightning-fast reflexes making the superhuman task easy for his overdeveloped body. When he was in arm's reach of the officer, he grabbed the officer by the head and crotch and forced the man’s skull backwards. The officer screamed as his spine cracked and his abs ruptured, Krishna forcing the head back further and further until his torso was bent in half and his head was shoved inside his ass. Then Krishna grabbed the man's arms and legs and ripped them off - Krishna's arms were so strong that the man's muscles and bones tore apart like paper in his hands. Krishna left the man to die - he didn't know whether he would die of blood loss or suffocation first, and he didn't care. The death of the officer was discovered the next day, and the headlines shocked the country. People were horrified of the photo of a muscular, middle-aged cop bent in half, head-in-ass, limbless and bleeding. When Krishna saw that photo, he masturbated to it for six hours. Krishna's career began when he was working out at a gym one day. A bald, tall man approached him. He was nearly as tall as Krishna himself, and would have looked muscular had he been standing next to anybody else. “Hey kid. You a bodybuilder? Powerlifter, maybe?” Krishna looked over at him. He had a confident smile on his face, despite the raging boner in his perfectly ironed dress pants and his nervously shaking hands. Krishna casually bounced his pecs, and chuckled at the way the man's dick jumped with them. “Why do you want to know?” The man strategically adjusted his hands to cover the growing wet spot at his crotch. “I'm an agent for bodybuilders and powerlifters. You're the most promising young man I've ever seen. I can provide you with tons of sponsors. Normally, getting to Mr. Olympia is a lifelong endeavor, but with a body like yours, I'm sure we can…” “Not interested.” Krishna interrupted. “I'm not interested in fame.” As Krishna walked away, the man frantically chased after him, an obvious trail of jism spurting from his pant legs. “Wait! It's not just fame. It's money too! Our sponsors can provide you with food, clothing. You'll be able to grow bigger, stronger. You'll be able to destroy your competition on stage in front of a huge audience. We'll give you all the…” “Destroy.” Krishna growled. The man stopped, practically holding his dick now, trying to stop himself from coming as he took in Krishna's impossibly beautiful body and sonorous, sexual voice. “Destroying the competition… I like the sound of that.” The man nodded vigorously. Now he was frothing at the mouth, his hips bucking, gargling incomprehensibly. “Give me your company's number. Write it down right here - I'll call them later.” The man grabbed the pen and erratically wrote the number down. The handwriting was barely legible, but Krishna was able to make it out. The man pounced on Krishna's relaxed arm, which hung lazily down his side. “Please,” the agent mumbled his last words, “flex it for me.” Krishna smiled, and slowly brought his arm to a horizontal. Then, with a casual flex and a sudden BOOM, the man died, his hands tightly grasping Krishna's literally heart-stopping bicep as he shot seed all over himself. Krishna soon made a name for himself when he broke every major weightlifting record ever set. He could bench and squat over a ton without assistance, for reps. He used weight for one-armed bicep curls that champions used for deadlifts. He became known as “The Last Lifter” because nobody else could ever hope to break a lifting record ever again. There were accusations of steroids, but doctors found nothing but natural teenage hormones flowing through Krishna's bloodstream. When Krishna stepped on the Mr. Olympia stage at 18 years old, he didn't even look like he was the same species as the competition. He stood over a foot and a half taller than the average competitor, with wasplike proportions - his powerful shoulders twice as wide as the biggest competitor, his miniscule waist narrow as a female supermodel. His muscles were unfathomable, so massive and monstrous individually yet so balanced and beautiful in unison. Every single man on stage had the largest erection they had ever experienced in their lives, yet their manhood was still dwarfed by the teen’s mouth-watering flaccidity. One of the judges had a heart attack. The others forgot where they were, so amazed were they by Krishna's unprecedented routine, bedazzled by his gloriously flexing biceps, his shirt-tearing triceps, his eye-popping chest, his tree-like quads. One of the competitors started crying halfway through, and soon, they all were. They weren't just crying that they lost the competition. They were crying that they would never be able to win. Crying that their bodies had no chance of attaining Krishna's size and power and perfection. Crying that not even the strongest performance-enhancing drugs could give them Krishna's body. Crying that their children and their children's children would still look like twigs compared to Krishna. They were crying from Krishna's beauty, his handsome face, his perfect smile, his flawless lips, his gorgeous eyes. Then they came, one by one, an entire stage of full-grown alpha males from around the world cumming at the sight and smell and thought of a single teenage boy, only barely legal but stronger and hotter than every one of them put together. Krishna took his trophy graciously and left the room, walking through a sticky mess of cum and jizz and pussyjuice covering the dead and dying bodies spasming across the floor.

Part 1 of a new story about two much loved juniour bodybuilders. Dan is 6 ft, huge and ridiculously handsome. Jake is 5' 5" and known for his super shredded conditioning (we're talking razor sharp cuts, dick thin skin, freaky ab veins an a full on Christmas tree). They're best friends and vlogging partners (they've been dubbed "the beefiest blogging duo on YouTube"). But Jake has a secret. He's completely and hopelessly in love with Dan. Dan and Jake (Part 1) The church is absolutely packed, and as the organ man starts to play, I begin to walk down the aisle. I turn to the man to the right, clutching my arm. Good old pops. He looks genuinely choked up. Everyone is looking at me all doughy eyed. Granny Adams is dabbing her eyes with a tissue. Auntie Mavis is nudging uncle Boris and signalling to my outfit. Both of them now staring at it in admiration. I look down to admire it myself. A black dickie bow around my neck, a pair of smart black boots and, completing the outfit, a pair of bright red posing trunks. As shiny as you can imagine. The red trunk coloured bulge is looking up at me. So are my abs. In all their thick, wonky shaped, and phenomenally peeled glory. Six crazily developed bumps bursting through my tummy to remind me that I'm a freakishly shredded, excessively developed muscle boy who loves nothing more than to strut around a bodybuilding stage, flexing and squeezing his superhuman sized mass for all the world to see. My slabby, beautifully carved out muscle tits, and the rest of my huge, bronzed, vein plastered body are obvious reminders too. What is the organ man playing? I know the song but I can't quite get the name. It’s only when I get to the front of the church that it suddenly hits me. It’s a ballad organ rendition of The Prodigy's "Smack My Bitch Up". A large, stocky man is standing in front of me smiling. He’s wearing one of the t-shirts from my website; black with the words "BROTHERS IN BEEF" printed on it, and around his neck is a dog collar. I recognise him instantly. It’s the commentator and host from a dozen of my previous bodybuilding shows. I'm pretty sure his name is Bob. "Friends, relatives, muscleheads", Bob begins in his thick Yorkshire accent. "We're here today to witness the union between two of Britain's biggest and most popular young bodybuilders". I take a sneaky glance at the man standing next to me. It would only be one person. Could only be one person. "Yo dude", he quietly says, with his fist held out for me to discreetly bump. I oblige, obviously, and just catch a quick glance of the bow tie around his neck, exactly like mine, and the big blocks of abdominal muscle popping through his stomach. Also exactly like mine. Bob carries on the sermon for a number of minutes, and then it’s time for the vows. "Do you Jake "The Shredinator" Adams, take Dan "The Man" Murray to be your lawfully wedded muscle freak"? "FUCK YES!", I exclaim, and everyone roars with laughter. "Oooops sorry", I sheepishly add. "I mean, I do". And with those two words, my heart swells. I do I do I do. "I now pronounce you, pumped up, shredded to buggery muscle freak and, well....pumped up, shredded to buggery muscle freak". I can't wipe the grin off my face. He's mine. Dan The Man is finally mine. "You may now squeeze a head to head crab most muscular". "HELL YEAH!", Dan exclaims. I turn to face my new hubbie, matching bow tie, black boots, shiny red posers and all. A huge, cheeky grin plastered across his face, as utterly gorgeous as ever. The face that plays a big contribution to him being one half of the two most popular and well loved bodybuilders in Britain. "Let's do this mate!", Dan said. I grin wildly and nod as I bend forward and lift both arms so they're level with my shoulder blades. Bob wants a head to head crab most muscular and that's what he's gonna get. "SQUEEEEZE IT LADS!", shouts Bob. And squeeze it we do. With my forehead pressed up against Dan's, we both bring our arms down and blast out matching crab most musculars, while aggressively shouting in unison. "YEEEEAARRGGHHHH"!! Dan "The Man" Murray. My lifelong muscle buddie. Best friend. Vlogging partner. Brother in beef. Fellow shredded muscle freak. Love of my life. And now my husband. "Jake"! Our heads are still locked. Our teeth now gritted. "JAKE"! Faces scrunched to buggery. Intensely and affectionately looking into each other's eyes. "Dude! Wake up"! Every muscle squeezed and bursting through our paper thin skin. Shiny red posers barely able to contain our bulges. "JAKE. DUDE. WAKE. UP"! Ugh. What’s going on?! Fuck. I feel dazed. Disorientated. "What the fuck were you dreaming about"? The church has gone, and I'm in a strange bed instead. A hotel bed. The curtains are open. Ugh. Why is it so fucking bright? But there's one saving grace. I feel typically giddy and a sense of warmth washes over me as I see Dan's face, just as handsome first thing in the morning as it always is. He has a bad case of bed head. Ruffled and un-styled. He's never looked more adorable. He's lying next to me in the double bed of the hotel room, still wearing the white vest he went to bed in last night. His arms have never looked more pumped and his delts look fucking ridiculously. His whole upper body looks like it's ready to burst. "Dude you were saying my name in your sleep!", Dan says. "Oh", I reply, my cheeks suddenly burning up and my pulse quickening. "Ummm...I think I was dreaming about the show", I say. "Did I kick your arse for the third year running?", he cheekily says with a grin. "Actually I kicked your arse", I playfully retort, knowing full well that the chance of that particular scenario occurring is extremely slim. "You must have been dreaming dude", he replies. Not yet fully woken up, I smile and dreamily gaze at my best friend and fellow bodybuilding musclehead from my pillow. I want nothing more than to stay in this hotel bed with him. For us to spend all day under the sheets, exploring and worshipping each other's indecently muscular bodies. Feeling each other's huge, pumped biceps, squeezing each other's thick, balloon-esque pecs, exploring the deep lines separating each of our shredded blocks of ab muscle and rubbing our huge freaky quads together. Making each other cum over and over until we finally collapse and I fall asleep with my arm wrapped around his crazy midsection and my head buried deep into the thick cushion which makes up one of his ridiculously developed pecs. Unfortunately, we have the juniour class of Britain's biggest bodybuilding show to compete in, which Dan will no doubt champion in for the third year running, leaving me to, once again, settle for second place. Not that Dan’s physique is miles ahead of mine in terms of quality. In fact, I'm guaranteed to always be better conditioned than him. Better than any lad in my class in fact. After all, I didn't get the nickname "The Shredinator" for nothing. Razor sharp cuts, dick thin skin, freaky veins (even on my abs!) and a full on bonkers Christmas tree will all be making their usual stage appearance today. And I'm not exactly lacking in size either. My pecs look like two pumpkins bulging off my chest, my quads get thicker with every passing show and my shoulders were replaced with two, huge, perfectly round boulders many moons ago. Oh and speaking of moons, my bum is huge. Like, seriously fucking enormous. There's not a pair of posing trunks in the world big enough to cover up the whole of my ridiculously huge rump. But I have one major drawback. I'm 5' 5” tall. So while my quads may be more shredded than Dan’s, the lines in my abs deeper, and my bum most certainly bigger, it's hard to compete with a brilliantly conditioned, mass packed bodybuilder who has an extra seven inches in height and thirty five pounds in weight than you do. "Dude, I can't wait to see your posing trunks", Dan excitedly says. "I'm pretty sure I'm gonna kick your arse in that contest too". "Hmmmm. I wouldn't be too cocky just yet", I playfully tease, picturing the utterly brilliant posers hidden in my holdall. "Shall we shower and then do the vid?", Dan asks. He looks like an excitable puppy, with the big brown eyes to match. I love how excited Dan gets about filming episodes of our "Dan and Jake: Brothers In Beef" vlog, although on this occasion I have to admit, I’m pretty excited myself. Dan came up with an idea to hold a "Posing Trunk Challenge" a few months ago. The goal was for each of us to find the best pair of posers for the competition. We'd both reveal our trunks in a vlog episode the morning of the show, and it was up to our viewers to decide which of the two of us had won the challenge. Dan was always slightly more adventurous with his posing trunks than I was, and I was sure whatever crazy pair he'd found would win him the challenge, but I was still really pleased with the pair I'd chosen. I was pretty sure Dan would love them too. I couldn't wait to see the look of approval on his impossibly handsome face when he saw them clinging to my excessively sized arse for the first time. Dan throws back the duvet and jumps out of bed and my heart sinks in response. Stood up, Dan looks absolutely monstrous. He's ten pounds heavier than last years competition - and boy does it show. His brutal upper body is exploding with mass, not least of all with those obscenely pumped arms of his. The judges may as well just save everyone the hassle and hand him the first place juniour class trophy now. Still looking up at him from my pillow, Dan peels, with comical difficulty, his white vest up his torso and over his head. His now revealed incredible abs are blistering through his stomach. Where my abs are wonky shaped and haphazardly spread across my midsection, Dan's stomach is perfectly symmetrical. Six beautifully shaped abs cleanly separated by almost straight lines. A perfect midsection to match his perfectly pumped pecs, and every single perfect feature on his boyish, yet masculine, and almost sickeningly handsome face. If I wasn't completely and madly in love with him, I'd probably be extremely envious of Dan "The Man" Murray. He'll always have more Twitter followers, his Instagram posts will always get more likes, he'll always have more muscle loving gay guys lusting over him, he'll always be the "hot one" and I'll always be the "cute one", he'll always be the monster and I'll always be the pocket rocket and he'll always walk away with a bigger and better trophy than I will. Still, at least I'll always have the bigger arse. "Just wait until you see my trunks dude", Dan enthusiastically says, grinning wildly, as he pulls out a towel from his bag. "Are you more excited about the show or the posing trunk challenge?", I teasingly ask. He laughs and cheekily responds. "What can I say dude? I just really like kicking your arse". Fifteen minutes later and a freshly showered Dan has re-emerged, just as outrageously huge and devastatingly handsome as always. His pecs are doing nothing to tame the swelling bulge in my undies under the bed sheets. "Dude, we’d better hurry up. We need enough time to go to the tanning tents backstage. Plus I want to get a good half an hour of pumping up before we hit the stage". I dutifully obey my best friend and jump into the shower. About half an hour later, I'm back in the en suite bathroom putting on my new pair of posing trunks, then hiding them under a pair of shorts in preparation for the posing trunk challenge, in our newest episode of our "Dan and Jake: Brothers In Beef" vlog. The vlog was all Dan's doing. About a year ago, when we were still in fairly decent condition from competing, Dan had a completely bonkers idea. He thought it would be fun if we painted each other's entire bodies green, put on purple shorts like The Hulk wears, go into our local town centre, start flexing and posing in the middle of the street and catch everyone's reactions on camera. I thought he was joking until he turned up on my doorstep with two big tubs of bright green body paint. I was a little embarrassed at first, and slightly scared that we might get arrested, but once people started crowding round us, coming up to us to shake our hands, chat to us and have their pictures taken, I actually started to really enjoy it. Of course Dan loved it from the second we stepped out of the car, but then Dan just adores any kind of attention his muscles bring him. The video was as equally popular when posted online. "You guys should have your own YouTube channel and start a vlog", suggested one follower in the comments section. And so we did. And now, a year and thousands of followers later we've been dubbed the Internet's beefiest vloggers. Dan and Jake; the only bodybuilding vlogging duo in the world. Of course we've attracted criticism too. Most of it from straight, fellow bodybuilders not impressed or amused by our laddish and quite often bonkers antics. Though most of it seems to be directed at Dan. Whether they see him as the ringleader, or whether there's a certain amount of hidden jealousy at play, I'm not really sure. "What's the British version of a douchebag? Surely it would be Dan Murray." "Dan The Man? More like Dan The Twat". "Jake needs to ditch that idiot Dan and get serious about bodybuilding. He's young and his physique is insane. He could be a future pro 212 class bodybuilder, but his bromance with Dan and this Brothers In Beef shit is doing nothing for his reputation". Those are just a few negative comments which comes to mind. The last one particularly stuck in my head. And, of course, the very notion that I would "ditch" Dan is completely ridiculous. Dan is my best friend and always will be. I wouldn't be anything but loyal towards him. "Right mate, we're all set", Dan says as he positions his digital camera on the hotel room desk. Filming of our latest vlog episode is about to begin.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Yo, I finished up this next chapter early so I'm posting it . I planning on writing the next one and posting it on Wednesday too. This section was really fun to write. I gets pretty intense in some places and I know you guys will love it. So here it is. A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Monday: Resurgence Part 9 I’m standing in the locker room. I’m completely nude, but I don’t care. For the first time I don’t care if anyone walks in and sees me naked. My body looks great so why should I care? My pecs bulge out of my chest so much that my nipples point down. My lats are so swollen that they get in the way of my biceps. My biceps are rock hard with vascular veins pumping their way down my arms. My abs are rock hard, my ass is thick and my legs are as huge as tree trunks. I look down at my erect cock and smile; who wouldn’t want this cock? The locker room door suddenly opens and I look up to see Ethan walking in. His eyes bulge out of his head as soon as he sees. I give him a cocky smile, almost laughing at the bewildered look in his eyes. He stands frozen by the door. “Uh…What’s up man?” he says. He looks a bit embarrassed. His face is turning red, but he shouldn’t be. He’s not the one without any clothing. “Just getting changed into my compression shorts,” I say as I point to the bright red shorts on the bench. I turn towards him and continue to speak. My erect dick points in his direction and I know he is trying his best not to stare. “You gotten really big, man. Way bigger than when we first met. It’s amazing.” He slowly walks into to the bench beside me and takes his bag off his back. He starts removing clothes from it, not taking his eyes off of me once. “Like what you see?” I ask. His face turns red. I feel amazing. I love having this effect on people and when it’s a bro like Ethan, it’s even more amazing. “I…I…I want to see what your muscles looked like flexed…” “Really now?” I say with a smirk. “Yes…Could you flex for me? “I’m glad you asked.” I make my way closer to him and flex my pecs. They bounce up and down and I notice his breath hitch. “Have a feel,” I say. Within a second his hand is on my hard pec. He squeezes and I flex beneath his hand. I can feel my dick getting harder. I lift my right arm and flex my bicep. His hand makes its way to my biceps and he slowly caresses his hand across it. “You’re like a rock,” he says. “It’s not the only thing that’s a rock right now,” I say. We both look down at my dick. “Yeah, I can see.” BAM!! Ethan and I both jump. The bathroom door burst open with such force that the noise echoes through the entire locker room. We both look to see who it is. It’s Troy… and he is angry. He rushes over to us, his shoulders hunched up, grabs Ethan by the arms, and tosses him across the room. “Troy!” I scream. VRRRRRRRTTT…VRRRRRRRT…VRRRRRRTT… My eyes burst open and I see the ceiling. The sun’s morning glow caresses every surface of my bedroom. My phone is ringing. It’s what woke me up. I immediately grab my phone and answer the call. “Hello?” “Yo dude, what’s up?” “Ethan? It’s like...” I check the time on my phone. “9 am.” “Yeah, well I texted you and didn’t get an answer. I saw Troy after my 8am class this morning and he says today is a good day for a little wrestling.” “Really? What time?” “He’s only free at 10:30. He has a class at 12:30 and he wants to shower and get lunch before.” “That’s a little over an hour from now! I haven’t even eaten breakfast yet, Ethan!” “Well let’s go eat ASAP and meet him at the gym.” “Okay,” I say. I feel a sharp pain in my groin and look down at my swelling cock. I’m rock hard from my dream. I can’t ignore it either. “Give me 20 minutes to get there.” “Aight, cool. See ya man.” “See ya.” I hang up the phone and my hand is immediately on my dick. I usually sleep nude so it was easily accessible. Tossing the blanket to the side, I hastily begin tugging at my ever swelling meat. My body is craving the satisfaction of a good cum and I can already feel the energy building up in my body. I feel the energy flow from my cock up into my chest and my breathing gets heavier as this familiar spark of energy rushes through my veins. My hand continues to stroke even faster. Precum begins to leak from my cock onto my lower abs. The veins in my dick protrude as my blood pumps harder. I’m getting close. I’m moaning now. I can’t control myself because of how good I feel. The pressure in my nuts rises, the tension getting stronger and stronger and suddenly I burst. I suck in a large gasp of air as streams of cum begin to shoot out of my dick. My back arches as one jet, then two, and then another three jets of cum shoot out of my dick. The first shoots over my head onto my pillow, the second onto my shoulder and the last three onto my chest. My arm drops and I start to relax. “Fuck,” I say breathlessly. It’s been a while since I came this much. My breathing is slowed and more relaxed now so I grab the shirt I took off last night to clean the splattered cum off my chest. Thoughts of my dream start to come back to me. I imagine Troy throwing Ethan again and my chest aches. I could never see those two hating each other. Why was Troy angry and what does it mean? I have a bad feeling…a feeling like something horrible could happen, but I don’t know what could cause it to happen or why it would happen it all. Whatever may happen, I’m sure it has something to do with an altercation between Ethan and Troy. I look at the time on my phone. I have 10 minutes left to get dressed and then go meet Ethan. I go to my closet, put on some jeans and a T-shirt, and pack my backpack with my singlet. Then I’m out of my room and out of my frat house in a flash. “Bro, what’s on your mind?” Ethan says. We had been eating for about 10 minutes and our conversations had been shortened by periodic silences caused by me being lost in thought. He jerks me out of my thoughts and I look at him startled. “Nothing man. I’m just thinking of a dream I had.” “What was it about?” “Uhh… Just school stuff. I dreamt that I failed a test in my criminology class and then I had to drop out of school because I couldn’t finish my Criminal Studies major and then I died…” “Whoa, man! It was just a dream! None of that will actually happen.” Whew! He fell for it. There is absolutely no way I am telling him about the violent part of the dream. Maybe one day I’ll tell him about the worshiping. I love muscle worship, but I don’t know if Ethan does. Not yet. “I know. I’ll get over it. So how was your night?” I say as I scoop scrambled eggs into my mouth. I want the conversation to change. “Well after basketball yesterday I showered, ate dinner, and just chilled in my room. It was a pretty laxed evening. Not to be too personal, but every time I exercise I get a rush of testosterone so you can figure out what happened when I got alone in my room.” I laugh at him not so subtly admitting that he masturbated. “Bro, trust me,” I say. “I totally understand. This morning was pretty hard for me… wait I didn’t mean that! Shit!” Ethan spits out the milk he is drinking and we both burst into laughter. Ethan even ends up coughing a little. “Dude, I’m sure you said what you meant. I bet you were pretty hard,” Ethan says with a wink. This just puts me in another uncontrollable fit of laughter. It’s moments like these that I believe Ethan wouldn’t mind at all if I asked him to flex for me or vise-versa. Before we know it, it’s time to go wrestle and Ethan and I make our way over to the gym from the dining hall. We head over to the locker room as soon as we enter the gym and I begin to remember my dream again. I shrug off the thoughts. There’s no way that will happen. I open the locker room door to see one single person in the room, Troy, and he’s standing completely naked. He still has the round, full ass that I remember. His back is turned to us Ethan and I as he rummages through his locker. I look over to Ethan who seems pretty chill. Nothing unusual about a naked guy in the locker room right? He turns around and sees us. “Vonny!” he says. He gives me a huge smile and begins to walk over to me, still nude. His dick flops around as he comes near and I freeze up. He brings me into a tight bear hug and all I can think of is how strange this must look to Ethan, but this is typical Troy. He still feels as firm and strong as he did before. I guess muscle regression takes a little longer for him. “How have you been, bro?” I say as he lets go. “Hanging in there?” He looks over to Ethan. “What’s up, Ethan?” He walks over to Ethan, still naked, and gives him a handshake. “Nothing much, man,” Ethan says nervously. “I’m ready to kick both of your asses though!” I guess that nervousness was temporary. “Oh, really?” Troy and I both say. “Then let’s put our singlets on and wrestle!” I say to Ethan. We quickly change. Troy puts on his tightest grey compression shorts and a tight grey compression shirt. Ethan sports a dark blue singlet and I a black one. Once we are dressed we make our way over to the mats. “And so the fun begins,” says Troy. “Ethan, you and I go first. Winner takes on Von.” He moves his way to the mat and Ethan takes his position in front of him. I watch as the two beasts go at each other. Troy seems to have the upper hand. He’s about 30 pounds heavier than Ethan. I remember him saying he was 170 pounds in the past, but I have no clue how much mass he has lost since then. He is still strong though. He flips Ethan onto his back and slams him on the floor. I hear the breath leave Ethan’s body, but he doesn’t give up. He slips from beneath Troy and latches onto his back. Troy struggles beneath Ethan’s weight and lets out a deep grunt, his face turning red from the pressure. I watch in amazement as these two monsters go at each other and I feel the familiar surge of energy in my groin. “You can’t beat me, bro!” Troy says. He flips onto his back with Ethan on it. Ethan lets out a loud puff of air and he lets go. “Damn!” he says. Within a second Troy pins Ethan down again. I watch him struggle beneath him, the sweat dripping down his face. It’s nice to know that Troy still has his strength. After a few more rounds, Troy comes out as victor and it’s my turn to go up against him. “I thought you were top dog, Ethan!” I say to taunt him. “Guess today just isn’t my day, man,” he says. I look down and see a hard bulge protruding through his tight singlet. I smirk at it. “Alright,” Troy says pointing at me. “Your turn!” He looks at me with such determination. It has been so long since I’ve seen his eyes this bright. “Let’s go! Bring it” I say, edging him on. I move to the mat and suddenly he is on top of me. His thick pecs connect with mine and I feel his arms wrap around my back. His grip is strong and there is nothing I can do to break out. I miss how powerful he was and it seems that his strength hasn’t wavered at all. He is too strong, even for me and my body is repeatedly slammed and pinned to the ground. I’m amazed and in no way upset by his display of power. After a few rounds I am sweaty and tired, but Troy seems even more pumped. I can tell he misses this. He must miss exerting himself and feeling powerful like he is now. I feel a little sad for him. After he is finishes whooping me, we towel off. “That was the most fun I have had in a while,” Troy says to me and Ethan. “You’re telling me,” I say. “This is great!” I finally have my bro back. I feel that Ethan, Troy and I could be bros for life. “So Von, you wanna go for a workout? “says Ethan. “It’s only 12:00 and I don’t have class for a couple hours.” “That sounds great man,” I say. “You heading to lunch Troy?” “Yup, I’ll see you guys around.” He fists bumps us both and we separate. Ethan and I walk into the weight room and Troy out the gym door. We make our way over to a weight bench by the window. “So Ethan, I noticed you were a little happy down there earlier?” I say teasing. “Bro!” he says embarrassed. “You know how things get in the heat of the moment. Popping a boner is—“ He suddenly stops speaking. He is staring out of the window. I look in the direction he is looking and see what he sees. Troy is outside of the gym and he is yelling loudly at a girl in front of him. His back is turned to us and I can see the girl’s face. She has curly strawberry blond hair, freckles and glasses. It’s his girlfriend, Terri, and she is beyond pissed. They don’t notice us through the window, but I can hear their every word. “I told you never to go here again! You know I don’t want you looking like a fucking freak, Troy!” Terri says and begins to storm off. “I wasn’t working out, babe!” Troy cries. “I was wrestling with my friends!” He begins to follow her and their voices begin to fade as they walk away from the gym. “Wrestling!? Who wrestles!? I know that’s a lie. I know you are covering up and you were really in the weight room.” “But I fucking wasn’t!” “Don’t lie to me! Why can’t you do this one thing for me Troy!?” He speaks but he’s too far away to hear now. I stand beside Ethan in shock. I never imagined their relationship so…fiery. Ethan and I just look at them as they walk away. “What a bitch,” he says.

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This story is coming to an end. Got some hot stuff here. Enjoy! Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Thursday. Cardio, Biceps, and Back Day: Part 5 It is 9:45. Troy and I are standing in the weight room drenched in sweat. I’m pumped as fuck. We ran 2 miles this morning and decided to work chest and back afterwards. We are 15 minutes into our bicep workout. I can see the veins in Troy’s blood pumping with blood with each dumbbell curl and his arms aren’t all that’s pumping with blood. His cock is obviously hard through his running shorts, which are so short that they barely reach the middle of his thigh. I see his meat twitch with every curl and in a way I can feel his alpha energy radiating from his body. I have two 40 pound dumbbells and he has two 45 pound ones. His biceps are obviously stronger than mine. His rock hard biceps are burning read as he curls and I wish so much to be as big as him. We finish our last set and I pat him on the back. It is still drenched with sweat from our run, but I don’t care. “Fuck bro, your biceps are swole as ever,” I say. “Thanks man,” he says. “But look at yourself. Those are boulders. Flex those babies.” He looks in the mirror and flexes his bicep. I flex both of my biceps. I am wearing a black stringer tank top and the flexing reveals my hard pecs and with both biceps flexed, I look amazing. Troy’s eyes light up. “Shit bro!” he says. “I need to get a pic of this!” He takes out his camera and we strike the same pose. “Look at the two of us alphas.” He says this while showing me the picture. “Two powerful bros, ready to crush all of those that get in our way.” “Me, an alpha?” I say. “Yeah dude!” he basically yells. “Look at these arms!” he says and grabs holds of both of my biceps. “You’re a beast!” I don’t know how to respond to this, but before I can Troy gets a message on his phone. He looks down at his phone and his eyes open wide. “Holy shit, man! I got an internship in Superset City!” “WHAT?!?” I am shocked. Superset City is the fitness capital of the entire United States. The only people that live there are pro bodybuilders, extreme fitness enthusiasts, and basically anyone with a bod worth showing. “I got an internship in the swollest city in the word! Fuck!!” He is shaking with excitement. “When will you leave?” I say. I am a bit panicked. Troy can’t just leave. “Next Fall is our senior year. Dude, you should apply. I don’t have a roommate yet and it would be cool to be able to work out and chill with you every day!” “Really?” “Yeah, man! Just promise me you’ll think about it” I hesitate. I never thought about doing an internship, but to go away with Troy would be amazing. I don’t know why he wants me to go, but I don’t want to let him down. “I’ll think about it.” I say. “Great!” We continue to work out. Troy is even more pumped than before and we charge our way through the rest of our biceps and back workouts. We are burnt out by 10:45 and in a desperate need to shower. Troy follows me into the locker room. I no longer feel nervous when I go in here alone with him and I immediately begin stripping. Once my clothes are off I see that Troy is already naked too. He stands directly behind me and I know he is looking at me. “Wow man,” he says. “I feel like you are swelling up every time I see you.” I turn around and look at him. He stands in front of me fully erect and I feel like I could ask him anything at this moment. He just doesn’t seem to give a fuck that his showing me his all. I look down at his hard abs. They are protruding from his stomach, each individual muscle begging to me caressed. His cock points straight to the ceiling and is oozing with pre-cum. My dick starts to stiffen up and I see his eyes twitch down towards it. “Like what you see, bro?” he asks. This question shocks me. How do I respond to such a question? Should I tell him that his hard body turns me on or would that ruin our friendship? I decide to try to turn the conversation. “Dude, you look great, but I need to take care of this hard on,” I say. “I always feel like busting one after a good workout.” He looks at me inquisitively and slowly begins to move forward, his eyes never leaving mine. He stands right in front of me and I see him debate something in his mind. His eyes are full of questions and then suddenly a look of remorse comes over him as if he suddenly changed his mind about something. He backs away slightly and walks towards the showers. “Let’s go man!” he says over his shoulder. I watch his tight ass as he walks away. Fuck. My cock is dripping just thinking about those swollen globes. I follow behind him and get into the second shower, He is in the first and I hear him turn on the water. I turn mine on and thinking about his ass I start stroking my cock. I feel so close already. Suddenly my curtain is open and I am shocked. My hand is immediately off my erect dick and I turn around. TROY IS STANDING IN THE SHOWER WITH ME!! “You know… Out of all the muscles on your body that I have touched,” he says, creeping slowly towards me. “I have never touched this one.” He slowly reaches his right hand down and wraps it around my cock. Fuck! What is happening? He begins to stroke me and my body is filled with immense pleasure. His other hand begins to play with my nipples. I feel so good that I don’t know how to reacted, so I just melt into his hands. He begins to stroke faster and faster and his left hand beings to feel my abs. I begin to shake, my climax is building. “There it is big guy,” he says, “Let it all out. Show me what an alpha’s cock can do!” My cock bursts! Hot white streaks splatter Troy’s chest, dripping down onto his own cock and I finally let in a gasp of air. I fall back against the wall soaking wet. “Nice, bro!” he says and steps out of my shower and back into his. I’m still shaking as I hear him begin to moan. I finish cleaning and I know he is done when he turns his water off. I wait a minute, still lost in thought and then I turn off my water and go out to get changed. I don’t speak as I get dressed. I don’t know what to say, but then I remember his text about wrestling from yesterday. “So dude, you still wanna wrestle tonight after dinner?” I say “That’s right!” he says. “Heck yah man! I don’t have a singlet, I hope you don’t mind if I don’t wear one.” “Nah man, that’s cool. I just won’t wear mine.” “No! You have to wear it dude! I love that thing on your bod. It shows off the best of you.” “You mean my dick?” I say and laugh. “That’s just one of the good parts,” he says and laughs also. Well, at least he likes my dick. That’s good. Right? Troy’s phone begins to go off and he looks down at it. The light in his eyes die down as he ignores the call. I notice that his attitude is a little damp. “You ok, man? I ask. “Everything is cool,” Troy says anxiously. I can tell that everything is not cool “What wrong?” I’m just a bit worried about my relationship. My girlfriend is worried that I will get too big and she doesn’t want to date anyone bigger than me.” “So what does that mean?” “She wants me to stop working out.” What?! That’s crazy as fuck.” “Agreed.” “Well I hope you guys can work it out,” I say although it is a lie. “Thanks, bro,” he says. We begin our walk out of the gym and plan to meet to wrestle an hour after dinner. It wasn’t until dinner time that I heard from my friend Angelica, who had heard from Cassidy, who had heard from Joy that Troy and his girlfriend had broken up, not even an hour after the two of us had left the gym.

Hey guys here is part three of A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains. Here is the link to part two. https://muscle-growth.org/topic/8710-a-college-weight-room-story-the-path-to-gains%C2%A0/#comment-89862 Enjoy! A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Part 3 Outside. Tuesday Morning. Cardio and Abs Day: I wake up to my phones alarm at 8:45. I grab it from underneath my pillow and turn the alarm off. There’s a text from Troy. Troy: Morning bro. I’ll be at your front door a couple minutes before 9. Be prepared. It’s a nice day out. I jump out of bed and take off my clothes; my roommate has left for his early class so I have the freedom to walk around my room naked. I go into my bottom dresser drawer where I keep all of my gym gear and throw on a pair of black compression pants and a blue stringer tank top. Then I grab some black gym shorts and drag them over the compression pants. It would feel weird running in just the compression pants themselves. I can’t have the imprint of my dick visible for the whole campus to see. Before I leave my room, I look into the mirror. Perfect, the stringer hangs low enough to keep my pecs visible. The juicy round globes burst through the stringer and I’m not even pumped. Next, I grab a small bag and fill it with spare clothes and put it on my back, then I go downstairs and head for the front door. I check my phone as I open the door and I see Troy has texted me again. He’s already outside. I go out and he’s standing in my driveway wearing a fitted grey shirt and a pair of fitted bright yellow compression shorts that show a clear imprint of his heavy cock and balls. What… how… why is he wearing that outside? I can’t believe my eyes. He wears the shorts as if showing off his junk is a normal part of his day and I try not to look down at his cock. I gather my thoughts and try to behave normally. “You got here fast,” I say. “I woke up early and I was so pumped that I had to get here!” “Let’s do this then!” I reply excitedly. I really want him to turn around so my eyes stop wandering to forbidden places. “Yeah, let’s go!” he says and immediately turns around and breaks into a run. I start running and follow closely behind. Oh shit, now I have his tight ass to look at. Squats have really been doing him justice. I can see each ripple of his chiseled glutes through the yellow shorts. I try to focus on something else and I raise my eyes to his back. I can see his mountainous traps poking through the tight grey shirt, riding their way up his thick neck and I crave traps of that size. I need to have traps that huge. I notice darker spots appearing on his shirt and he begins to slow down to an eventual stop. “That’s one mile down,” he says. “One more to go.” He then strips off his shirt, revealing his solid abs and finely haired chest. He has a little happy trail that doesn’t take away from the marvel, but increases it. It makes him seem manlier. He turns and run again. I try to focus on other things as we run: the science buildings, the freshman dorms, the trees, the nice 70 degree weather, but his recent shirtlessness has all of my attention. I stare at every inch of his back as we run. His entire back seems to be flexed as he runs and I wish I could stand and punch it repeatedly to feel the power I know it holds. We stop in front of my house again after two miles and I am beat. “Alright,” I say between breaths. “That wasn’t so bad. Now I need to go to the gym and work on abs.” “Abs?” he asks. “I actually need to work my abs, bro. Can I come with?” “Hell yeah, bro! Why not?” We walk to the gym from my house. Troy puts his grey shirt back on and a little bit of my anxiety shrinks. I was starting to lose it from seeing him shirtless. It’s a short walk; takes less than 2 minutes. We show the desk worker our ID’s and head into the weight room. “So what do you usually do for abs?” Troy asks. “I start off with weighted ab crunches,” I say as I walk over to the weight rack and grab a 45 pound plate. “Ready, bro?” “Wow man, that’s a lot of weight. How many reps do you do?” “40.” “Jeeze.” He looks nervously at me. “I’ll try.” My world suddenly stops for 2.5 seconds. Did he just say he will try? I think I may have just found his weakness…Abs. He grabs a 45 pound plate and we make our way over to the floor mats. We both lay on a mat and begin doing crunches. Troy seems fine in the beginning, but he begins to slow down. He stops at around 26 reps, but I keep pushing. He looks over at me as he lies on his back with eyes that subtly hint at jealousy. “Damn Von, your abs are stronger than mine!” I push to 40 and then lay back, breathing heavily. “I know you have 3 more sets in you,” I say. His eyes basically pop out of his face when I say this. I smile cockily at him. I seem to have a lot of control in this situation and I have to keep myself from laughing. “Um...Maybe you have 3 more sets of 40. I’ll go for 20.” “Haha ok man.” I am awestruck that I finally found something I am better at. We finish our sets and move on to doing ball crunches, then hanging leg raises, then Russian twists. Our abs are burnt out so we head to the locker room, grabbing towels from the front desk on our way over. He walks into the restroom first and I take a leak. Troy takes his shirt back off and begins to flex his abs in the mirror. I finish peeing and walk over to the mirror. I take off my shirt and start flexing my abs too. Troy can't be the only one to put on a show. “Your abs are getting solid, bro,” he says. “Thanks man, you aren’t too bad yourself.” His abs are red and twitching beneath his skin. My hands are twitching to punch those muscles, to feel the solid impact, but I’m too nervous to ask. “Alright, I need to get clean. It’s shower time!” he says. He walks into the locker room and I follow behind him. He goes to a locker and removes his clothes for the day. I set my little bag down on a bench and take off my shorts, leaving on the compression pants. I look up and my body stalls. Troy is standing with his back towards me with his hard, chiseled ass out in the open. His ass is as white as the moon and his huge round cheeks look strong enough to crush bricks between them. I stand there with my compression shorts still on and he turns around. “Aren’t you gonna shower?” he asks. Troy is standing in front of me completely nude with just a hand covering his cock. “Yeah… I’m just… I’ve never seen anyone get naked in here before.” “What?! That’s what locker rooms are for!” he replies, both hand waving in the air, revealing his flaccid 5 inch meat. “The locker room is a safe place to be naked and enjoy it and the best part is that people can admire your body and you can admire theirs without any consequences.” He starts flexing both biceps as if he is being watched by anyone other than me; his cock is swinging between his legs mercilessly. He turns around and does a double bicep back pose, extending one of his legs and revealing his heavy balls between the cracks of his thighs. He turns around and I look back at him awkwardly. I notice that his cock is starting to get a little hard and he knows it too, his hand makes his way down and he starts to stroke it. “Let me help you, bro,” he says.” He walks forward, still semi-hard, gets down on one knee and grabs the band of my compression pants, ripping them down and revealing my 4 inch, flaccid, black cock and ass for anyone to walk in and see. His head is extremely close to my cock and I am paralyzed with fear. He looks down at my dick as if it was a normal part of his day and gets back up, turns around and walks to the shower. “Let’s go, man.” I follow behind him and he stops at the first shower. I go to the second, but barely make it past him before he slaps me on the ass. HARD! The sound resonates in the shower area and I jump a little. “Damn, bro. Those squats are doing you justice.” “Thanks,” I say and chuckle nervously. “Same to you man.” “You haven’t felt these beauties man. Give them a good squeeze.” He turns his back to me, his ass waiting to be worshipped. He didn’t have to tell me twice. I grab both of his ass cheeks and give them a hard squeeze. They feel like rocks in my hands. “Fuck,” I say. He begins to clench his cheeks and I feel so much power in my hands. It is getting harder for me to breath and I start to get hard from his clenching, so I let go. “Alright,” I say. “Shower time.” I walk into my shower and he goes into his. I hear his curtain close and his water turn on through the thin shower wall and I start to relax. I turn on my water and I make it extra hot. That was close. I feel the water rush over me and I start to breathe normally again. I desperately need to cum but I will save it for later. After two minutes, I hear something from Troy’s shower that sounds an awful lot like moaning. “Troy, you ok over there?” Uhh…I’m gonna be honest with you because you’re my bro. It’s been a while since I had sex with my girlfriend.” “So that means you’re— “Spanking the monkey, chocking the chicken, beating my meat, yup!” I can’t believe it. I’m in total shock. “Oh…” “Hey man, there’s nothing better than a good orgasm after a workout. Get hard and try it out!” He didn’t have to tell me twice, I was already hard and hearing him moan through the thin shower wall turned me on. “I always like feeling my pecs and nips when I jerk it. It makes my cock drip so much,” he says over the rush of the water. I begin to stroke my cock and then I hear his moaning. I begin to go faster and he gets louder. I start to moan and he hears. “There you go bro! That’s good shit right there. Fucking bust your nuts all over these walls.” I completely lose it at his words and blow all over the place. I moan in complete ecstasy and I hear him huffing and grunting as his wad shoots from his unseen hard cock. “Ugh..fuck!” he say. “I really needed that,” “Me too” “Well it was nice to do it in your company man.” We both finish showering and walk out of the showers, still naked but not awkward anymore. We walk to our clothes and as we get dressed, I see that his cock is still red and semi-hard from the tugging. “We should shower next to each other more often. It’s way more fun!” Troy says. I’m a little thrown off by what he says but I keep it together. “Haha yeah. Sure man.” “So see ya for leg day tomorrow?” “Yeah, for sure.” We are fully dressed by this point and walk out of the gym. Troy and I leave the gym and he fist-bumps me before we go our separate ways. There are so many questions in my mind. I know Troy is straight. He has never shown any sign of curiosity. He has a girlfriend, but why aren’t they having sex? I’m turned on by Troy, but only because he’s a strong alpha and I admire that. I admire how competitive he is and how he pushes me to be stronger. I know that I’m not feeling love for him, but today was strange. He’s never been this close to me before. He literally stripped me down today. Something is changing in Troy and I think I’ll start pushing him a bit to see what will happen. I know just how to push too… Wrestling.

Hey Guy! Here is part 2 of College Locker room heat! Here is part 1 if you have not read it A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Gym Class. Monday Afternoon: Chest day Part 2 We walked into the weight room. Troy, still behind me, comments on how stoked he is that the gym is almost completely empty. He is walking beside me now and I can see that he is pumped. As we walk into the weight room I notice that his fists are clenched and the veins in his arms are pronounced from his tight grip. His biceps and forearms are swelling from the force of his grip and I admire the power in his arms. “Like what you see, man?” he asks. I’m startled. I did not expect him to acknowledge I was checking out his gains, but of course he did. He’s Troy. He would want me to look at his chiseled body. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m 150 pounds of thick pulsating muscle. My pecs press through my shirt like balloons and my legs are thick enough to crush trash cans between them, but I still stare in awe at my gym buddy’s body. “Your arms are vascular as fuck,” I say. This makes him smile in the cockiest way. “I’ve been working on my biceps a lot too,” he says. “They’ve gotten to the point where they constantly looked full when they aren’t even being flexed. Touch them and see.” I reach for his bicep and I am not disappointed. He was right. They felt like rocks and he wasn’t even flexing. I can feel his veins pumping the blood through his rock hard biceps. Each pulse making my heart beat faster. I look up at his face and he has this smug look. Such a cocky alpha. I need to be as strong as him. His 170 pounds made me feel weak in comparison. We continue into the class and make our way to the racks and benches. Our class consists of 8 students and our instructor, Russ. When one usually thinks of a gym teacher, they may imagine a lazy, averaged height, fat, balding man who sits and watches his class put in work. Russ is not this kind of teacher. He is 6ft tall with biceps as thick as his thighs, sick ass traps, and a barrel chest that would make (and probably does make) any man his age jealous. His forearms are amazing and look almost as big as his arms themselves. He is about 60 years old and his age can be seen by his thinning hair that reveals the lightly tanned skinned beneath, but he has not let his age slow him down. “Alright class,” Russ says. “You already know what today is so let’s split up into groups.” Troy and I are split into different groups. I with my 2 fraternity brothers, Zeus and Kris, and he with his two buddies. Zeus and Kris are both heavy dudes. Zeus about 250 pounds and Kris about 200 pounds. Both have body fat percentages about 25% or higher but they are both strong. Zeus could easily out lift me any day with his gorilla chest and tree trunk thighs. Kris has also slowly been getting stronger. His strength nearing my own. Each group is assigned a station. Mine is assigned decline bench press and Troy’s is assigned dumbbell bench press. Zeus begins his set by loading 45 pound plates to each side of the bar. Kris decides to spot him so I am left standing and looking around the room. I look over to Troy’s group. Fuck! The first thing Troy does is grab 2 of the 75 pound dumbbells to chest press. I am in complete awe. He is so fucking strong. I can see his pecs protruding through his white sleeveless shirt. Each muscle is his arms begin to shift as he pushed harder and harder. His face turns red and sweat begins to glisten on it. He pumps out 10 reps and throws the weight to the floor in a fit of power. I can see his juicy fucking pecs twitching beneath his shirt, fuller from being pumped. He stands up and starts stretching his chest out, his triceps flexing out with full force. I’m starting to lose it. “Vonny?” I turn around. Kris is looking at me and I’m embarrassed. “It’s your turn,” he says. I look down at the declined bench and immediately add 20 more pounds to the bar, making the weight total 155 pound. I know I have this. I lay down and start pushing, it’s heavy, but so damn satisfying in my hands. There’s no better feeling than the pump you get from pushing yourself. It’s like having a near death experience. The fucking thrill from it blows your mind and completely electrifies your body. I pump out 6 reps easy and notice that Russ is standing aside watching me. Being viewed by the instructor pushes me to go harder and I pump out 4 more reps. With every rep comes a satisfying grunt from my throat and I can feel the sweat building up between the peaks of my pecs. I finish and when I get up from the bench Russ immediately pats me on the back. “Damn Von!” Russ says. “You used to be so small and now you are so damn strong!” Everyone in the class is looking at me with congratulating eyes. I see troy too, but his facial expression is strange. It’s a mix between two things, admiration and a hint of jealousy. He walks over to the rack and grabs two 85 pound dumbbells. Holy fuck! With a loud grunt he lies on his back and forces the weights above his head, pumping hard and fast. He reaches 6 reps and begins to make animalistic snarls through his teeth. He pumps out another 4 reps and tosses the weights to the ground. His buddies are ecstatic. The skinner of the two, Marv, is especially excited by what he just saw. He can barely get 45 pounds over his head and Troy is a beast to him. He’s a beast to me. Troy stretches out his chest and tell Marv to give it a good punch. I watch as Marv’s fist connects with Troy’s meaty chest repeatedly. Troy has no reaction to the punches, a smile still on his face. So powerful. “Time to move on the barbell bench press,” says Zeus. Class moves by in a rush and I eventually make my way back to the locker room. Troy in already there. He is shirtless and his back is turned towards me. I can see every ripple and bend of his powerful lats and bulging traps. He shifts to grab his shirt from the bench and I see the muscles beneath his skin move. They shift like pebbles beneath a slow moving stream. Smooth… but hard and firm. He hears the door open as I come in and he stops and turns around. His pecs are completely swollen! There are red spots between the peaks and a little bit of hot sweat dripping down the swollen meaty cavern towards his abs. “I don’t know about you, but I got a good pump today!” he says. “Hell yeah man. I feel strong as fuck,” I say. “You look strong,” he says. “Thanks bro.” “Can you grab stuff with your pecs?” he asks. “Huh?” I have no clue what he means. I walk farther into the room towards the bench. “Give me your hand, man,” I hold out my hand. He grabs it and places it between his pecs and with flexes them. “Holy fucking shit!” I say. I can’t help the response. His pecs clamp down on my hands and I can feel the hard muscled grip. I’ve never felt pecs as powerful as these before. He looks at me with the cocky smile he always gives and then asks me to try doing the same to him. I rip off my shirt quickly and let him place his hands between my pecs. I grip his fingers but it isn’t as strong. “You are getting there bro,” he says. He removes his hand and walks back to his clothes. I’m a little disappointed by his response. I want him to see me as I see him. An aesthetic god. “So dude, we are for sure going running tomorrow morning. I need to get my cardio in. 9 am sharp?” “Yeah, how about we meet at my frat house?” I reply. “Good plan man. Good plan” He and I get dressed and leave the locker room. I can’t wait for tomorrow! Cardio day with Troy is going to rock!

Links to other chapters: Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 Chapter 21: Sam and Casey February 10th, 2022 2035 Hours Right after the presentation, Moster briefly convened the men in the corridor around the corner from the lab. “Okay, what just happened?” asked Alvarez. “Didn’t you see? The Army creamed in their pants at the sight of us,” answered Chad. Hension, as always, stood by, pensively flexing his muscles and dreaming. Chad clapped him on the back of the head. “Ow! What’d I do?” “Pay attention.” “Head back to your quarters, men. Await further instruction. Visitation tonight strictly prohibited.” Moster was specific. He’d turned his broad back and strode away, but all saw as he turned he was grinning. “Strictly prohibited?” asked Alvarez. Moster glanced back at them briefly. “Just keep the volume down.” And he was gone down the corridor towards his suite. “My room, 10 minutes,” Alvarez said to Lang. “Yeah, baby!” They were gone. Hension looked after them, and followed a moment later. Casey was thinking of Sam. He could think of nothing else – the way the handsome young ensign had stared at him. He’d caught his name on the way out. Sam. Sam Victor. Schumacher glanced briefly at Tiffany, who was, as usual, smiling and opaque. “I’m gonna go train,” grumbled Washington. “Me, too,” said LeFevre. Tiffany walked away without a word. Schumacher watched his butt as he went, and turned and walked back to his room, seething as usual. “I’ll join you,” said Waring, looking after Schumacher. “Me, too,” said Jin. “Wait for us,” said Reed. “You in?” he asked Blankenship. “Sure.” He clamped his hand around the back of Eli Meyer’s head and gestured, train? Eli shook his head no, mimed he was going to go to bed and jerk off. Blankenship laughed. “Maybe I’ll join you instead.” Meyer nodded and off they went together, Reed following. “Not gonna train?” Washington called after him. “Changed my mind.” He threw his arms around Meyer and Reed and walked away with them. “Showers after?” asked Obatu. “Whaddya you think?” asked Blankenship. “Wait for me,” said Chad. He turned to Bogarde, who was headed to his room. “Not you?” “Yeah, I’m coming. Wanna get my nipple clamps first.” “Gonna work pecs?” “Yeah.” “I’ll bind your tit clamps if you spot my curls,” said Gunst. “Tonight I’m gonna blast these big guns to the limit.” Abdul said nothing. He went on his way alone, looking for Pedro. His dick was twitching. Casey ran back to his room and quickly brushed his teeth and combed his hair. He reeled off 300 pushups, which took him less than 3 minutes. Then he ran out the door in search of Sam. After a moment he came back, climbed up on a steel chair he kept in the corner, reached high, and carefully adjusted one of the lights on his posing dais. Nice and easy. "That's better," he said to himself. Then he went out again, in search of Sam. October 21st, 2021 1843 Hours The men gathered around Casey, now kneeling on the hard concrete floor before Abdul, who stood before him, cock out, ready to plunge in. Unexpectedly, before he started, Casey spoke. “Tell them to pull up their pants. I want to see their dick outlines in their pants.” A pause. “Pull ‘em up, gentlemen,” commanded Moster. “And when I say so – and not before – they can pull them down again. At my command. Or I stop this.” The White Caps seemed to be working. Moster suppressed a smile as the men in line looked at one another, bent, pulled up their jeans, and fastened them – with some difficulty, as each man was now sporting 10 – 15 inches of wood. The bulges were….dizzying. Casey leaned in closer to Abdul, the Arab’s 15 inch cock now bobbing two inches from his face. “Yeah,” he said. “I like that. I like the view. They can flex, too. Tell them to flex.” “Gentlemen, front double biceps, please.” “Yours too, Sergeant Moster.” Moster raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest. Biceps slowly rose, like the rising of 36 suns over distant mountains, hitting the ceiling, filling the room with flexed muscle. “Dr. Lang?” The video cam whirred to life. “Okay. Here goes.” And Casey opened his mouth, and for the first time in his life, took a male organ inside. Abdul, above him, spread his legs wide, and began slowly pumping his hips into Casey’s face. February 10th, 2022 2050 Hours At the same time that Alvarez and Lang were just getting under way with Pose and Approve, Casey was standing in front of Sam in the corridor outside the men’s room. Even now, months after he first arrived in the main building, Casey had gotten lost four times. He worried that Sam may have left the building. And that he’d lost his opportunity. But no, for there he suddenly was 40 feet down the main corridor, coming out of the men’s room. His heart filled with joy as he ran up to him. Sam stopped short, surprised. The 6’-7”, 330 pound bodybuilder muscle giant Casey Rockland was suddenly just there, standing shyly before him, legs spread awkwardly wide, his hands held meekly at his side. He was breathing deeply as if he had just been running. “Hi!” he said, a little desperate sounding. “Well, hello,” answered Sam. Casey was still wearing the white VALHALLA LABS t-shirt he’d worn before he stripped down for the presentation to the brass, bulging with barely sheathed muscle, the gigantic arms pouring out of straining sleeves, the tight white jeans, bursting at the quads and calves, and the black army boots. A light coat of sweat gleamed in the corridor light. Sam tried to meet his eyes at first, but in spite of all his control his vision wandered as he began to take in the staggering proportions of the handsome young behemoth standing before him. The dude was perfect. Fucking perfect. Casey radiated golden-tanned muscle, his taut skin gleaming a natural sheen of rich, deep brown-gold. The sleeves of his t-shirt strained to half-cover the bulging, hard, veiny, cannonball masses of his unreal, sick biceps. His firm round pecs were held hugely high, and Sam could easily make out the shape and slight coloring of the man’s large red-brown nipples. His square jaw was alluring, with a movie star’s cleft chin and a day-old scruff. His eyes shone a deep violet blue. The crew cut was of thick burnished gold. The hands? Each the size of both of his, held together. Below, the outline of an 8-pack of deep, firmly ridged abs pounded through the t-shirt, hillocks of muscle deeply sloping to ridges of darkest ab lines, all tapering to an improbable – no, unbelievable – 30 inch waistline. The boy’s broad lats spread horizontally behind, like eagle wings, the traps above the pecs boulders of pure power, his deltoids powerful triple-headed mountains of strength. And then Sam’s gaze went a little lower – and held there. O My God. There it was again. And now only five feet away. “I was afraid you’d left.” “No, I’m still here.” “Yeah! Um. I see….good!” The fly of Casey’s white jeans wasn’t merely bulging. It loomed with the weight of the heavy member firmly curled, tucked away and packed inside. It was if he was carrying a long, thick, heavy snake in his pants. A boa constrictor. No less than that. Clearly, the boa was currently at rest. The barely-restraining fly was fully revealed by the fly flaps, forced back by the tautness of the fabric. The zipper appeared to be industrial grade. No doubt made of some sort of reinforced steel. Sam stared openly at the ungodly bulge. Then he heard a voice, and he shifted his eyes back up. “So…you’re…you’re Ensign Victor. Is that your name? And, um, your rank?” Casey was fumbling to think of something, anything to say. He stumbled forward, hand extended to shake. “Does that mean you’re in the Navy?” So Casey wasn’t the brightest bulb in the billboard, was he? All the better. “Call me Sam.” He smiled, offering his hand and Casey shook it with firm eagerness. He nearly crushed Sam’s fingers in his vice-like grip, but Sam never blinked. He smiled sweetly. “Nice to meet you,” Sam said. Casey glowed. Sam turned slowly, smiling, and resumed his walk toward the main hall. Casey trotted up alongside. “Where you going?” “I’m under orders to find about more about you men.” “I can tell you more!” “All right, then. Shall we talk? Before I meet with the others?” “Yeah! I mean, you don’t have to talk to them. I’ll tell you everything you wanna know!” “Everything…?” “Welll…..” Casey looked around. “Enough.” “Fine, then. Where shall we go?” “My quarters! How about my…quarters…? Okay?....” “Lead the way.” October 21st, 2021 1845 Hours In the first moments, Casey didn’t think he’d much like sucking Abdul’s cock. The huge Moroccan pushed his hard cock into his mouth without any ceremony. As new to this as Casey was, shouldn’t there be something like…he didn’t know, maybe some foreplay? He knew Abdul was not about to kiss him or anything – geez – but still, as his enormous penis came, hard as iron, enshrouded with thick veins, like a freight train, slow and big and hard and powerful and unyielding, the corona and the shaft pushing resolutely past his lips and teeth and deeply into his mouth and down his throat, Casey wondered, just a nanosecond, ‘Shouldn’t there be a little – something more?’ But, no. Guess not. For there it was, huge and throbbing and hot, crammed down his throat, deep and firm, in one thrust. And no nothing else. Just cock. Not even any flexing. No challenge, no demand to feel his muscles. It was just cock. Big and hard and throbbing and hot and unyielding. At first, Casey was stunned. His eyes went wide and he looked up, his mouth full of cock, even fuller than he’d ever imagined, his lips enveloping the thick shaft of a man’s penis for the first time in his life. Okay, so he had to get used to this. He was beginning to realize they did a lot of this here at the top of the mountain. And he did want bigger muscles, so….. So. It didn’t take him long. February 10th, 2022 2055 Hours Casey practically skipped ahead down the corridor, talking excitedly to San over his shoulder as he went. “I heard about you. The men…the other guys…..you know, in the lab…. They said you were coming tonight. I wanted to meet you before they did.” “Who said I was coming? Who knows me here?” Sam asked calmly. “Oh. Oh, they all do. All of them. They’ve talked about you. Um.” He stepped ahead of Sam and gestured hopefully down the corridor. “I was hoping to …. um….talk to you first. So you want to know more about us?” Sam stopped, turned, and smiled serenely with plain honesty. So the others talked about him. How did they know him? Still, the thought pleased him. “Yes. But principally, I want to know more about you. Personally. And we’d all want to hear more about the project. We’d like to learn more about all of you. Who you all are, where you’re all from.” Sam paused. “But I’d like to hear a little more about you in particular.” Casey’s eyes grew wide with joy. “I’d like to ask you a few questions,” Sam continued breezily, “if I might. You sure you have the time for me?” “YEAH!” Casey said, almost shouting, and then glanced around in quick alert spasms to ensure no one had heard him. Tiffany could appear at any point and stop the fun. Of late, Tiffany had been stalking him….and Casey didn’t like it. Not to play, but to keep Casey under personal wraps. “I mean, yes, sure, I have time,” Casey said again, more quietly. “Let’s go.” “It’s late. Sure you don’t mind?” “Naw. Tomorrow’s a rest day anyway. We trained hard tonight. Got all pumped up for you guys.” He paused, and then added. “I’m really pumped up.” “Are you?” “Yeah! REALLY pumped. Very big. Um…” He was getting ahead of himself. He stopped, shyly, confused, and then continued. “Down here. I think. Yeah, I’m right. I get lost sometimes. This way.” He walked ahead fast, heading down the corridor, looking either way, watching for spies. “Down here.” Sam picked it up and hustled a little behind. He was in complete control of himself. His eyes were half-lidded and studiedly casual. He watched the muscleboy’s dancing butt as he ran ahead of him down the corridor. He sure is happy about something, Sam thought. I'm gonna pose for this dude for hours," Casey was thinking happily. October 21st, 2021 1846 Hours Casey closed his mouth around the hugeness of Abdul’s cock with an eagerness that surprised him. His lips held firm. Hey, it wasn’t so bad. In fact, it felt right. In fact, it felt great. He glanced up, and then bent his head down and went to work. He started to suck. Lotta veins here. Nice. He pulled back, managed to get his tongue out to wet his lips. In a moment his mouth was wet and milky with thick gobs of spit. He leaned in an resumed. Wow, this was cocksucking? He really liked it. Abdul began to pump his face, first slowly, then fiercely. His big penis started to glide powerfully, in and out of Casey’s mouth. “Mmmmm,” Casey moaned. “Uh hunh,” Abdul moaned. “Fucking your mouth, boy.” The men stepped closer. “Wow,” breathed Hension, and this time, no one smacked him. So, all in all, and pretty fast, it got fun. February 10th, 2022 2056 Hours Sam could hear some moans and groans drifting from various rooms. “What’s going on?” he asked Casey. “Oh, they’re probably all fucking and sucking dick by now." Casey had stopped in front of a door. "Here’s my room. These are my quarters. You wanna come in?” He unlocked it, opened up and went in. Sam was pleasantly startled. “Yes, of course.” Fucking and sucking dick by now? So much for the claim by Zaftig that the muscle giants didn’t have sex. The truth would seem to be otherwise. He followed the giant in. Casey was waiting on the other side of the door, closing it behind Sam as he entered. “Welcome to my room,” he said. October 21st, 2021 1837 Hours “Breathe through your nose,” instructed Moster. “Yeah, we all have to do it that way or we’d suffocate,” said Lang helpfully. Casey looked up. Abdul nodded. “Do it,” he said gruffly. Casey, on his knees, gazed a little up at Abdul’s black eye. It made him hotter, remembering he was still sporting a nice big shiner himself. “Okay.” He’d never sucked a cock before. But of course his masturbation fantasies had included it since he was 8. His bed sheets at the Home had been stiff and sticky with boy cream produced from midnight fantasies of just such a scene. Him, on his knees, servicing the huge penis of a muscle god. And Abdul’s penis was satisfyingly huge, yes, a full, warm, salty dark log of beef gliding forcefully between Casey’s lips and sluicing powerfully, relentlessly down his throat. It plundered deeper into his larynx than he would have thought possible. Casey would have been startled, if he’d thought of it, at how easily his throat opened up, taking it all, without resistance or gagging, swallowing the hugeness of it. The man’s penis was uncut and slightly cheesy to the taste, and the foreskin proved something interesting to nibble on. It filled his mouth – and Casey had a big mouth – and lay at intervals resting with heavy satisfaction atop his tongue. It grew even larger when inside, too, taking on the warmth and liquid of Casey’s mouth. It expanded and began to throb and play and jump, scraping against his teeth. He couldn’t help but bite, just a little, but Abdul, above him, his eyes closed and his face to the ceiling, didn’t seem to notice, mind, or care. The cockhead should have choked him, or gagged him, or something, but rather immediately, Casey had no problem taking it in, 14 inches of girth capped by a huge mushroom corona. Precum must have been dribbling from the piss slit, because right away Casey could taste cum oozing down his throat, coating his tongue. He knew the taste well. He always ate his own, every time he jerked off, 5 to 6 times a day. Abdul was moaning loudly now and was probably unaware of it. “He any good?” asked Blankenship. “Kid knows how to suck dick,” said Abdul between moans. Casey was licking now, playing with the enormous cockhead with light tongue taps. “Oh, God. This kid is good. Really good. Get ready.” “Look, he don’t even gag,” breathed Lang. The other men nodded sagely. “Pants Stay UP!” Casey suddenly yelled. General groans. All were playing with their tools in their trousers, getting big, hard and ready. Hension was flexing for himself, as usual. Gunst was rubbing his 8 pack, while Jin and Schumacher were unconsciously pawing each other’s packaged schlongs. And Tiffany was there, too. Smiling. Always smiling, his fat big organ poling straight ahead in his pants. Casey guessed he’d have to suck his cock, too, but as beautiful as it was, he wasn’t looking forward to it. He was about 8th down the line. Okay, so that would be later. “No gag reflex on this boy,” said Moster from the back. “That’s a good thing. You can suck cock all night, right, Cadet? And not get tired? And keep breathing? Your jaw hurt?” Casey nodded, then shook his head, confused as how to answer. He pulled back. “I like it, sir” he answered. “My jaw don’t hurt.” “Don’t stop,”said Abdul, his voice now had a note of pleading in it. Wow. Casey smiled. “Okay,” he said, and bent down, his mouth full, going back to the business at hand, his throat crammed, sucking a big cock, as all the bodybuilders in the room watched. The tension in the room added a thick layer of electricity, covering them all. And there in the corner, there was Dr. Irving, as always, shooting video. Casey reached down began to steadily work his own gigantic tool, completely popped out of his baggy sweatpants. “Shit, look at his junk,” muttered Chad. “Big as Moster’s,” said Waring. “Close.” Moster looked up critically. And – he had to admit it. Casey’s cock was indeed close to his own in girth, weight, thickness, and circumference. Hmmmm. February 10th, 2022 2058 Hours Casey’s quarters were an efficiency studio with kitchenette and bathroom. The room was large as befitted a huge muscleboy, but somehow with the lighting and the sofas and the pillows – and the posing dais with all the mirrors, and lighting just so– it was still cozy. It was all concrete, everywhere, true but Casey had tried to enliven it with an LED TV, a computer, some stuffed animals and a few plants. There were dozens of books in a study bookshelf. A small private terrace just beyond double glass sliding doors and dark with night gave a beautiful view of the bright stars above. The terrace walls were high and covered with ivy. No one would be able to see Casey sunbathing naked in the late afternoon sun. Sam could envision him spread out on the extra-durable steel chaise longue, his 12” soft cock languidly lying atop a ripped quad. Sam could see Casey watering his few little plants, desperately trying to keep them alive. A lonely boy’s room. It was sweet and sad. Lonely and alone. No muscleman this beautiful should ever be alone. “Want some coffee? Water? A beer? Juice?” he asked eagerly. Sam wondered if he ever had any visitors at all. Sam nodded. “Sure, that would be great.” Casey headed towards the darkened kitchenette and snapped the light on. Sam’s eyes followed his round, rock-hard tightly jeaned ass swaying as he went with its own inner rhythm. It was like dancing steel. “You have coffee?” Casey nodded, pulled an instant coffee jar from a cabinet, and filled a cup with hot water from the sink. “Yeah. Got it. Milk? Sugar?” “Just black. I see you have beer? I thought caffeine and alcohol were supposed to be bad for you.” “Naw. We can eat and drink anything. It won’t show up.” He stirred the coffee. “Come on in here,” he gestured. “Get it while it’s hot.” It sure as shit is, thought Sam. He came into the kitchenette. “Yeah, we can eat or drink anything. We just train it out. We’re gonna look like this for years. Except maybe we’ll get bigger.” He handed the cup to Sam. “Have a seat,” he offered, and Sam sat down at a small round table in the kitchenette. He looked back at the books in the shelf. “Looks like you work hard.” “I have to. I’m not as smart as the others. I’m pretty dumb, really. I don’t understand half of what’s in them books.” He corrected himself. “Those books. Coffee okay?” Sam sipped, nodded. “Fine.” It tasted terrible. Casey sat down at the little table with Sam. His heavy shoulders and pecs loomed over the table surface. He folded his big hands together and leaned in slightly, shy but – determined – about – what? Sam noticed there were slight tears in the tight sleeves of the t-shirt, still straining to cover the massive biceps. Casey followed Sam’s gaze. “Those guns are pretty impressive,” Sam said. Casey nodded, solemnly, without smiling. “They’re big. Not the biggest in the barracks, but close. They’ve always been big. 26 inches. Moster’s are bigger. Gunst’s too, I think, but I’m getting close to him. I think mine are harder than his, though.” “Impressive.” There was a long pause. “Would it be okay if I flexed for you?” Casey asked shyly. Sam sipped his coffee. “Sure, let’s see what you got.” October 21st, 2021 1843 Hours As he sucked, licked and played with the Arab dick, Casey became intrigued with the latticework of heavy veins that lined Abdul’s lower abs. Hmmm, he thought. Rough. Masculine. Ripped. He thought for a moment of Ramon Ramon, and then Miles Donovan. Maybe he could take a trip back to Raw Weight Gym sometime soon. Suck their dicks, too. In fact, there was also Banks, and Taylor, and the other cadets who wanted to touch and worship him. In fact, there was a whole world of cock waiting for him now. And who was going to say No to a kid as big and muscular and good looking as he was? Casey was, in fact, still discovering his own power. Looking down the line of men waiting, all of them hard and hot, he could see Gunst was next. Looking up, he saw that Abdul was now posing for him, doing a front lat spread, his fists buried in solid obliques. “Yeah, pose for me, big man,” muttered Casey, who continued to suck. “You pose for me, and then I’ll pose for you, and you’ll suck MY dick.” “Fuck you,” said Abdul. “Yeah, and I’ll do that, too,” replied Casey. February 10th, 2022 2058 Hours Casey didn’t need for Sam to prompt him further. He was ready to flex. Joyfully, he stood, towering over Sam. He slowly brought up his right arm, extended it, made a fist, and flexed. “Ka-boom!” he shouted. He flexed it again. “Wham! Bam!” The powerful peaks rose to the ceiling, pumping with sheathed veins. The tear in the shirt sleeve cloth widened a little more, the threads straining to cover the cannonball peak. Then he brought up the left arm, cocked the fist, and flexed it as well. Then he flexed both together, in a massive front double biceps display. “Pow Pow Pow Pow,” he added, whispering now, his gaze never leaving Sam’s face. “Look at my biceps. Check out these huge mother fucking guns.” He was whispering low, his face a foot away from Sam's. Sam gazed. In truth, he had never seen such muscle before. But still he seemed calm. The tendons of Casey’s forearms spasmed as if charged with electricity, and veins seemed to audibly pop as the heads of each biceps peaked. Casey clenched his fists powerfully and grinned, showing teeth. Then he grew shy again. A pause. “What do you think of me?” he asked timidly, still flexing mammoth biceps. “I think you’re fucking unreal.” Casey nodded seriously. “Yeah, I am.” He turned and inspected his flexed arm muscles closely. “26 inches. I have dense muscle fibers,” he reported. “And, um, good bones.” There was silence for a moment. Sam sat still, watching the unwavering young muscleman flexing his biceps. After a minute, Casey looked up, and brought his right arm closer to Sam. “You can touch it,” Casey said eagerly. “Feel how hard it is.” “Okay,” Sam said calmly. He rose to his feet, brought his hand up and touched the enormous biceps head with his fingers. It was impossibly hard and hot. He looked into Casey’s blue eyes, and smiled. Then he clapped the mountainous biceps full with his palm. He stroked, softly and more thoughtfully. In spite of himself his eyes grew wide for a moment. He had never felt any part of any man to be so hard to the touch. It was as if he was stroking hot, smooth iron. Casey looked at Sam a moment, then turned away, lowering his arm. He pulled a 5-gallon aluminum thermos from the refrigerator, unscrewed the top, and drank heavily. Sam watched him. He drank about a gallon, water running down his beautiful scruffy chin, then stopped, and held out the bottle for him. “Distilled water. Want some?” “I’m good.” “Okay.” He drank the another 2 gallons while Sam watched. “Sit down,” said Sam. “Thanks,” said Casey, as if he were the guest. He sat. Both men sat at the table. Casey wiped his mouth. “Hang on a minute,” Casey suddenly said. He reached into the kitchen table drawer and brought out a little vial. He shook out three capsules, grabbed his water bottle and swallowed them down, drinking the last gallon. Sam smiled. “Drugs?” Casey smiled back. “Just some P21.” He paused again. “Wait a minute while I get an orange.” He got up and walked across the room to a bowl of fruit. He grabbed an orange and chowed it down whole, without bothering to peel it. Then he smiled. “Okay, I’m ready,” he said. October 21st, 2021 1845 Hours “Pay attention. Lick it,” Abdul commanded, and Casey licked Abdul’s lengthy shaft from base to tip, as he would an ice cream cone. “Balls,” Abdul added, and Casey leaned in and turned his head up into the man’s perineum, the massive log now lying hard and lazy on his face, extending from jaw to hairline, gobbling at the leathery scrotum sacs that hung and swayed, slapping against Abdul’s iron muscled quads. Lolling the cock around in his mouth, Casey glanced up. The men were gathered around him now. Waiting, their pants still buckled, their flies up, bulging, waiting their turn. Waiting. 17 more cocks, all huge, bobbing, erect, ready to be tasted, probed, learned. His head was reeling now. The P21 was zinging about in his system. It was, after all, an aphrodisiac (although in truth, Casey wouldn’t have known the word). Wow, thought Casey. I like this. I really, really like this. No, 18 cocks. For there he was, in line, at the end, waiting. The monster cock. Sergeant Moster. Moster’s monster. “Moster has a monster….” Casey began to giggle. “Get serious and keep sucking,” commanded Abdul. “Yes, sir,” said Casey. The P21 was still kicking in. Even as Abdul pulled out, shooting thick rivers of white Arab cream, his blasting cum covering Casey’s face, and Blankenship stepped up for his turn, his own monster machine pushing through Casey’s lips, Casey knew he wanted it, too. “AUUUGHHHHNNN GGGHHH!!” cried Abdul, his mammoth pole shooting ropes of semen onto Casey’s face. Casey received the facial calmly. It felt warm and wonderful. He didn’t bother to wipe it off. Cum streamed down his face. Badge of honor. He wanted them all to line up to suck his cock. Now. It was as if Moster was reading his mind. “You’ll have to wait your turn, boy. Before you get your cock sucked in this squad, first you have to suck all of ours.” Casey shrugged. “Okay,” he said, and a moment later, his mouth was full of Blankenship’s ploughing, plundering machine. And on either side of him, Chad and LeFevre were now rubbing their protruding trouser bulges on his traps, impatiently awaiting their turns. He could also barely make out between Blankenship’s hip plunges that Lang was on his knees now, feverishly servicing Alvarez. Obviously Lang couldn’t wait. Okay. It was fine with him. It was all good. He looked up. Blankenship was closest to him, flexing biceps now. Wow, Casey thought. But mine are bigger. Wait till he sucks my cock. Behind Blankenship stood Gunst, eagerly awaiting his turn. Gunst’s cock was one he was looking forward to. He rapidly finished up on Blankenship, bringing him to climax, and then pushing him out of the way, grabbed for Gunst, who, surprised, came forward awkwardly. “Give me your dick, big man,” said Casey. “And let me see those big guns of yours.” Gunst began to flex huge biceps, as Casey took the giant cock in his mouth and began to chow down on it. Wow. Even bigger than Abdul’s. February 10th, 2022 2100 Hours Casey had oiled his arms up just before he met Sam in the corridor. He knew he wanted to show his biceps to the handsome young officer. It was as if he knew Sam would be coming. An instinct. From across the lab earlier that evening he’d seen the gleam in Sam’s eye, saw the once-over that was a little different, saw the stare Sam couldn’t cover at his large package. He knew there would be deep-throating going on before the evening was over. He could hardly wait. But first, he had oiled his biceps. “Play with then. G’wan. Feel my biceps. Have some fun with them. You know you want to.” Casey raised his fists higher and took a step closer. Sam could feel his breath. Sam brought up both his hands, and ran them along the flexed biceps of both Casey’s arms. He clapped the hard peaks, smacked the left forearm, and ran his fingers along a network of thick veins. Casey moved a little closer still. He brought his left arm right up under Sam’s nose. “…….why don’t you lick it…..?” he murmured. Sam gazed into Casey’s eyes. His gaze was mild, unthreatening, encouraging, hopeful, but firm. He wanted his biceps licked. Sam slowly leaned in, his eyes never leaving Casey’s and lightly flicked the biceps head with his tongue. Casey’s eyes closed and he inhaled gallons of air, heavily heaving forward. Then…… R-r-r-i-i-i-i-p-p-p! That was all it took – the touch of Sam’s tongue. Each of the straining sleeves of his t-shirt gave way, and tore open wide. Casey’s biceps burst free of their final confine, both gleaming with power. Sam licked the peaks, ran his tongue firmly up and down mountains of muscle, tasting dusky mineral oil. A droplet of moisture streamed slowly down the left peak. Sam licked it up. “Your shirt’s going,” he said quietly. “Fuck it,” said Casey. The fabric stretched to its maximum length, and split again in six different places, drifting gently down his torso and hanging at his belt. Casey tore off the remnants of the shredded t-shirt and blasted into a front lat spread. “It’s gone. I go through a lotta shirts this way.” "I'm sure of it." “I wanna keep posing for you.” “Go for it.” “Stand back then.” Casey started reeling off poses. First, he showed off his 60” chest in six different ways - front lat spread, most muscular, side chest left and right, crab shots, and slow pec dancing. "Boom Boom Boom Boom," he yelled out proudly as his pecs leaped and danced. His nipples were taut and high and hard. He wriggled and slapped his quads, still encased in the skintight white jeans. He turned full around and went into a lat spread, hands on his hips. “Watch this,” he commanded. His lats flared wider than seemed humanly possible. He arched his butt towards the ceiling and threw his head back, and every tendon of his back leaped out. Veins criss-crossed the canvas of his physique. Sam resisted a momentary impulse to fall to his knees and bury his face in his glorious butt. Somehow he restrained himself. Casey turned back front. “Doin’ hair now,” he said, cocking one biceps up and palming the back of his head with the other arm. Sam laughed. “You’re too young to remember Tom Platz.” Aha. In an instant, Casey got it. This dude knows who Tom Platz is. The dude likes muscle. Casey covered well. “I know who he was! He was awesome! "BAM!” Casey flexed his biceps. “You’ve never seen guns like this!” His enormous muscles danced, gleaming brilliantly in the bright kitchen light. Sam saw the look in Casey’s eye, and knew in a flash that he’d blown his cover. He was a muscle worshipper, too. Shit. Still, he covered well. “How about a little more oil there?” “Sure!” Casey said eagerly, secretly overjoyed. A worshipper! WOW. He whipped open a cabinet door and produced a large bottle of mineral oil. “Pour it on me, baby!” Sam stood and smiling, slowly unscrewed the bottle cap. He poured a generous amount of oil into his palm, and began to apply to Casey’s pecs. Casey brought his hands back to his hips and expanded his chest to its fullest size. Sam smoothed the oil onto the muscle boy. Beneath his hand he could feel Casey’s heart beating, the blood pulsing, the unyielding hardness of warm muscle. He rubbed the oil in. Casey’s pecs glistened, and droplets of sweat beaded into the mixture. Sam poured more oil and layered it onto to his rocky washboard abs. He smoothed the liquid evenly, then rubbed his hands together and took hold of the flaring lats, running his hands down Casey’s obliques. Sam glanced down at Casey’s jeans. The looming fly was beginning to bulge even larger. The men’s eyes met. Casey’s face colored a little. He was embarrassed. “Sorry, man,” he said. “Getting oiled always works me up.” He reached down to his crotch, squatted a little, pushing his big butt out, and adjusted himself. His face was bright red now. He explained. “These pants are too tight. Zaftig made us wear them tonight. Usually we’re just in jocks. Or posers. They’re made specially just for us. So we can fit everything in them.” He was breathing heavily, now, and though he felt slightly humiliated that his priapic eagerness was showing so clearly. All the same he was happy and satisfied that things were going so well. He had gotten to show Sam his muscles up close before the other guys did, and without getting caught. He flexed again his biceps and stood back. “I like doing that,” he said. “Go right ahead.” “Okay!” He flexed a few moments more, and then stopped. “So what do you want to know?” he asked happily. He looked down. “Sorry about the hard on.” There was no hiding it now. “It’s okay. You’re young. It’s bound to happen. Not a problem. Pull your pants down.” “Yeah?” asked Casey happily. “Yeah. I know you big bodybuilders love to pull your pants down, keep them over your ankles, waddle around with your pants over your big feet, showing off your quads…” “Okay!” Casey was practically singing with joy at the prospect of showing this handsome new guy, a guy he’s just met and already was swooning for, his huge muscles. “And my hams, wait until you see my hams…..” he crooned as he pulled his pants down to his ankles. October 21st, 2021 1900 Hours Casey looked down the row of waiting musclemen, shifting nervously, eagerly from foot to foot, and saw that Moster would come last – that implacable huge mountain of a member would be the last of the evening to maraud his throat. He closed his eyes and dreamed as Gunst let loose with a cascade of gism down his throat. Casey swallowed every drop. And was on to the next, who, it happened, was Chad. Followed by LeFevre. Together the two men plunged their cocks down Casey’s throat at the same time. He’d been sucking cock twenty minutes now, on his knees, his face thick with cum deposits, now and then flexing his own huge biceps while he sucked, now and then switching back and forth to Schumacher and Waring. The men watched intently. Casey pulled back and called out to Moster. “Tell them all to pull their pants down. Now. Around their ankles. Keep them down. I want to see their quads. And their hams.” He licked his lips, then wiped his hands on his cheeks and lapped up the cum. He grinned. It was even in his eyes. He didn’t care. “You heard him, men,” called out Moster from the back of the line. He unzipped and plunged his pants down to his ankles. All unzipped. Pants around ankles. Huge quads blazing with veins. And thick cocks, erect, lining up, down the row, one after another. Even Tiffany’s. And even Tiffany’s was huge. And beautiful. “Yeah, lookin’ good,” Casey mumbled, licking his Chad’s cock now. “Take ‘em both, boy,” Chad growled, his good humor vanished. “Yes, sir,” said Casey, sucking obediently. His knees were beginning to hurt. He reached down to rub them, and in an instant, the sweet-hearted Eli Meyer, from the back of the line, was suddenly there at his side with a pillow, which he got from God knew where, fluffing and arranging. He tapped the top of Casey’s quads and, one knee at a time, and never breaking his suck rhythm, Casey lifting each leg and allowed the pillow to be slid under his aching, bruised knees. Eli rose and Casey saw his bobbing cock, eye to eye. “Wanna thank you,” he muttered. He reached up and tousled his hair. He could see Eli was hoping for service. Casey pushed Chad and LeFevre roughly away and grabbed Eli by the hips, pulling him close. “Unzip,” he commanded, forming the words clearly so that Eli could read his lips. He unzipped and his eager, big young muscleboy penis spilled out. Casey’s mouth enveloping his now-at-attention rigid cock. Chad and LeFevre grumbled angrily but backed off, impressed by Casey’s determination. He was done with them. “Maybe we should have gotten him the pillow?” “It’s okay,” said LeFevre as he knelt before Chad and finished the job, grabbing Chad’s cock and enveloping it with his lips. He pumped himself to release as Chad shot in his mouth. “AUUUGHHHGGGHHH FUCCCKKK!!” Casey paid no attention. He worked Eli to a frenzied climax in no time. Thick spurts of cum travelled down his throat. An instant later, there was Obatu’s big black rod, marauding his mouth. “Keep those pants down around your ankles,” Casey commanded. “I wanna see quads. And bulges.” “Yes, sir,” answered one of the men. Probably Lang. “You heard the boy. Pants down. Around the ankles. Keep those cocks covered till he’s ready for you,” ordered Moster. “It’s what the boy likes,” he added. All the while, Dr. Irving’s video cam continued to whirr. Dr. Shaft will pay major bucks for this tape, thought Moster with some satisfaction. Thousands. Casey finished with Obatu, cumming in his mouth, sperm dribbling down Casey’s chin into big pools on the pillow beneath his knees. “AUUUGHHHGGGHHH shittttt!!” "Glad you enjoyed it," said Casey. "Next?" The line moved forward one more man. Moster’s turn was coming up soon. February 10th, 2022 2115 Hours Sam stood back and smiled, still breathing hard himself from the posing routine he had just witnessed. The kid was charming. Was it an act? Had to be. No matter. Casey was right. His hamstrings were sick. Back-blooming with thick roiling mounds of sheer striated muscle, in line with his rock hard butt, sweeping past the back of his head, thick and solid and bursting. But everything about the swole, beautiful young muscle beast was sick. And swole. Sam caught his breath. Casey was sweating now, standing before him in only his bulging posers, his pants still around his ankles. Sam decided to play it calm. “So. How long have you lived here?” “Three years.” Casey was breathing heavily, trying to seem casual, but with his swelling penis smoothing out the few folds that were in his posers, poling ever outward, it was increasingly impossible. “I think give or take, 3 years. Um. I don’t remember. Seems like forever. I got here when I was 17. But I only moved up the hill here a few months ago. When they thought I was big enough.” “When they thought you were big enough.” “Yeah.” “I see.” “Had a really tough workout tonight before the showing. Let’s see. Got here three years ago. I think.” He put the bottle down and started counting on his fingers, thinking hard. “Zaftig first spotted me when I was 15. I just got thrown out of school. I had nowhere to go. He told me to start training heavier, and he got me a little apartment. He paid me to train, said he wanted to see where I would be in two years.” He ticked off a finger. “I trained hard on my own for two years. When I was17, um, yeah, when I was 17, I finally met Zaftig. And that’s when he moved me here to the mountain.” “Why were you thrown out of school?” “Fighting.” He picked up the bottle and drank again. “I put about 12 guys in the hospital one night.” “I see.” “They were laughing at my dick.” “Uh hunh.” Casey changed the subject. “Zaftig thought I had real potential. But there were a few guys ahead of me. One or two dropped out of the program. A few got promoted into ranks. Once I got here, I started really training, training hard. Day and night. Had to follow a strict regimen.” “Sounds tough.” “Naw. I like it. I mean, what else can I do? Not much. I’m dumb.” Casey chugged the last of the 5 gallons. Sam watched him silently. He put the empty bottle down and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “I mean, yeah, it’s tough, but not so much when you love lifting like I do.” “Tell me about it. Tell me more about you.” “Hunh? Really? You want to know about me?” “Sure.” October 21st, 2021 1940 Hours Tiffany’s session had come and gone as fast as Casey could get the mean little muscleboy to cum. In his mouth, as it happened. Now Moster stood in front of Casey. It was finally his turn. All the men leaned in to watch. “Men, dismissed,” Moster said calmly. “Casey, to the showers.” The men looked at each other, stunned and perplexed. Abdul grumbled and walked quietly out of the room. He would head for the heavy bag room first and once he’d worked up a sweat, then find Pedro again. “Let’s go pose,” said Lang to Alvarez after a moment. “Yeah. Let’s go.” The two left the room. All filed out, a little perplexed. “Ain’t he even gonna spank him?” Hension asked plaintively as they left the gym floor. “How many times do you have to be told, don’t say ‘ain’t’,” barked Obatu, clapping him on the back of the head. “Ouch!” “Hit him in the face and he’s yours forever,” said Chad. Casey heard the men roaring as they headed down the hall. He wiped some of the cum off his face. Damn, every time he met with these guys he walked away coated with cum. Stlll, it tasted good. Damn good. He wiped his cheek and licked his fingers. “That was fun!” Already Casey recognized Blankenship’s voice. The laughing subsided as the men moved away down the hall. Yeah, Casey thought, it was. He had to agree. “Casey? The showers.” “Yes, sir.” He got up and turned to go, wiping his face and mouth with a towel. Eli scrambled to get the cum-covered pillow, which he threw at Dr. Irving, getting cum all over his lab coat before scampering out of the room, grabbing his clothes. Moster watched as the harried Irving packed up the camera and the lights and left the room, wiping his coat and muttering angrily as he left. What came next Casey couldn’t quite believe. “I’ll join you in the shower in 10 minutes. Get ready for me.” Casey turned back and stared. Moster had crossed to his desk and reached into a drawer for a small vial. He was taking a handful of white caps. He smiled up at Casey. “My guess is that you need a little more intro into what we do here. To relax. Go ahead, Casey. Showers.” “The showers……” Casey repeated dumbly. “Yes. Hit the showers. I’ll join you. I think I need one, too.” Moster stretched, raised his arms behind his back, rotated his massive torso. In his trousers his huge organ shifted lazily. Casey gaped a moment at Moster. “You need a …..?” “A shower. Yes.” “With…..just me?” “I think so. Few things I want to talk about. Privately. Got it?” “Uh….” “Go on then." “Yes, sir!” Casey backed out the door, turned, and and ran down the corridor. Towards the showers. This time, he knew exactly where he was going. February 10th, 2022 2125 Hours Casey was thrilled that an officer as handsome as Ensign Victor was interested in his story. He sat down on the stool opposite Sam and spread his arms out wide. But he paused, perplexed. “What d’ya wanna know?” “Well, do you ever get out?” “Away from here? Sometimes. We’re told to stay away from town, but some of the guys go sometimes. At night. And sometimes we head down to LA.” “LA? Why?” “Some of the men who fund us live there. We show up and demonstrate our progress.” “I see. In a group? All of you at once?” “Occasionally. Usually we, you know, split up. Into smaller groups. And we’re allowed, if we’re discreet, to make private appointments, and we can keep the all money, too.” He stopped, proud. “I’ve made about $30,000. Just in the last six months. They’re keeping it for me.” Sam tried to keep a straight face. “$30,000?” He coughed. “Okay. So ….you hustle?” Casey colored, looked down, and seemed a little mortified. “No, not really. Is it? I guess it is. But some men like to see our muscles in private sessions, and ask us to do….um, things…to them…to show off our strength.” “I can imagine. And they pay you?” “Well, they contribute. And if they want to, um, suck our cocks, or fuck us, or have fuck them, or kiss our buttholes or something, then they have to contribute more.” “Isn’t that hustling?” “Okay, I guess it is. You see, I hadn’t had much experience before then.” “Experience? You mean you’d never had sex with a man before?” “No. Never. Not with anyone. Not until I got here. I still haven’t fucked a girl. They won’t let me. I want to, I guess. I mean, if she likes muscles, I mean, why not? But no, no sex. Not before I got here. But …then…after that – WOW. Like, every day! And I like sucking cock, I guess. And fucking. And I really like fucking tight bubblebutts. And I go nuts when I get worshipped. When littler guys, like you, tell me how big I am. How strong. How muscular. When guys….” He stopped, suddenly mortified. The words had come out in a rush. Maybe he was revealing too much. But Sam was calm. “Go on.” He plunged back in. “I just go crazy. You see…” he paused, now completely beet red with embarrasment, “getting my cock sucked while guys talk about my muscles takes me to……another planet, I guess. I lose all control.” “How?” Sam’s tone was warm, understanding. “I……I guess I get mean. Happy. Nasty. Mean. I mean, I like it. No, that’s not right. I crave it. I crave getting my cock sucked. And I like to show them how strong I am. You know, throw them around a bit. Pick them up. Carry them around, throw them down on the floor, step on them, sit on them. Sit on their faces. It’s easy. And they pay more, too.” Sam leaned in, his voice sympathetic. “You sit on them?” “Yeah….” Casey’s voice was low. “Tell me all about it,” he said. “Okay,” said Casey. He thought back. “It started when they made me start to suck cock. To see if I liked it. And….I did. I do.” And he remembered back to that first night – when he’d first sucked cock. When he’d first sucked all of their cocks, as it happened. He leaned in, and began to talk. How exciting it all was at first…but then how he longed for something more. He knew he could trust Ensign Victor. Sam was, after all, a muscle worshipper. And Casey was close to the best there was. Casey had long dreamed of his very own muscle worshipper. The legend that bodybuilders are aloof and don’t want to be worshipped? Bullshit. Bodybuilders wanted their very own private worshippers just as much as muscle schmoes wanted bodybuilders. If Casey knew anything at all, he knew that. He’d learned it in LA. And now he was going to tell Sam all about it. And then tell Sam that he knew just exactly what he was. And Sam, of course, was all ears, all solicitation and comfort. Even as he felt his own excitement growing. He felt his cock, too, burgeoning in his trousers, until he didn’t think he could stand it much more. But of course, he’d have to stand it. At least until Casey was finished talking. And so, Sam listened. Patiently, as it happened. And Casey talked and talked. As Sam’s cock got stiffer and stiffer.

Links to other chapters: Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1 "The Twenty" - Chapter 23 - Field Trips, Part 2 – Casey Rediscovers Muscle Worship, and Makes a New Friend Chapter 20 Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 February 10th, 2022 2050 Hours Alvarez, already shirtless and oiling himself up, answered the knock on his door. Naturally, it was Lang. “Right on time. Come on in,” he said. Lang came in, babbling with his usual over-the-top excitement that preceded every Pose and Approve session. “So what do you think the brass thought?” he asked eagerly as he pulled off his t-shirt. Alvarez tossed a bottle of heated mineral oil to his buddy, who uncapped it and began to smear oil onto his muscles as well. “Did you see that old Admiral Whatsisname? Jesus, he looked awesomely p i s s e d o f f, man! And what about all those other dudes? Didja hear them? Didja hear them groaning?? Dude! D’ya think they all creamed their pants?” “Of course they did. They always do. It’s the guaranteed effect.” Alvarez sighed, oiling his triceps, shaking his head. "It's why we're here, man. It's the only reason." Lang laughed excitedly, working the oil into his muscles. “Man, those dudes ain’t never seen muscle like ours before, right? Right?” He flexed powerful biceps and nodded into one of the room’s full-length mirrors with a frowning sneer. “Asshole dudes never seen guns like these, right? pow! bam!!” “Oh, shut the fuck up,” muttered Alvarez. Lang stared. He was suddenly quiet. Alvarez continued to oil himself up. He looked worried. “What’d I say, dude?” Lang asked plaintively, his arms outstretched. Alvarez walked over to him and stood nose to nose before him, the bulges in Alvarez’s jeans and Lang’s posers just touching. He reached around Lang to the back of his head and, guiding his face close, planted a deep kiss onto his perfect lips. He worked his tongue into Lang’s mouth, who responded deeply. Then he pulled back and gazed long and hard into Lang’s deep brown eyes. “I’m sorry. Forget them,” he said reassuringly. “Let’s pose.” “Yeah! Pose and approve!” shouted Lang, and then giggled apologetically, clamping his hand over his mouth in response to Alvarez’s stern look. “Shut up. We don’t want everyone in here.” “Sorry, dude.” “Tonight is just us.” “Sorry, dude! Let’s rock!” Both turned and looked at their reflection in Alvarez’s three-paneled mirror. Excepting Alvarez’s mustache, the two powerful musclemen were almost exact duplicates of one another: tall, dark, and handsome, with deep brown eyes, taut cheekbones and shiny black hair. Their ripped, 285-pound physiques were perfect symphonies of bulging muscle. Lang nodded and forgot all about the brass. He did a crab crunch into the mirror. “Freakkkkyyy…” he muttered. “Swole. So swole.” His veins exploded with throbbing power. Alvarez was undoing his belt, unzipping his zipper, working his tight jeans gradually down his ripped quads. “Pose and approve time, man,” he said to Lang. “Pose and approve.” He picked up a remote and lowered the room’s lights, bringing up the glare of the overhead spotlight focused on the 15' posing dais in front of the mirrors. “Yeah, man, let’s get to it!” Lang ripped off his clothes and stepped up onto the dais as Alvarez kicked away his jeans. Both men were now only barely covered with skimpy royal blue competition posing trunks with hundreds of bright spangles sewn onto the extra-large pouches. The spangles caught the light and glistened like small sapphires. Alvarez stood before him. “You go first.” For an instant, Lang was honored to be going first, as the unspoken law between them during their nightly mutual muscle worship sessions was that Alvarez always got to pose before he did. Tonight was apparently different; even so, Lang was instantly caught up in the sheer joy of his own reflection of muscular near-perfection, and he forgot it right away. The muscleman stood quietly, his heavy arms around his back, his hands clasped. He waited. His ripped abs seemed to extend forever, cobbled fatless bricks laced with thick veins. His cock poled out in his posers. But still he waited. Alvarez was always in charge of Pose and Approve. “Go.” “I’m fucking ….. awesummmmm…..” Lang moaned, loving himself. He slowly curled his huge body into a side biceps pose and turned his head to cockily grin at his reflection. Then he glanced uncertainly at Alvarez in the mirror. “Talk to me,” he demanded, but Alvarez knew he was really begging. “Tell me I’m huge.” Alvarez was not about to let him down. “Yeah, you’re huge, man,” whispered Alvarez with warm smoothness, and he shifted his weight, smoothing the small pools of oil onto his delts. “Those guns of yours look to be about 23 inches. Check out your fist. Motherfucking huge. You could seriously do some serious bare knuckle damage with a fist like that.” His muscles were now gleaming with oil. Lang laughed joyfully. “I have, man! I’ve cleared a few barrooms in my day!” “Punching out ba-a-a-d dudes with those fists?” “Yeah, punching out the bad dudes! Check out these veins, man! They’re like super highways, man! Pumping, buddy. Pumpin’ it up for ya, man.” Lang pumped and flexed. Alvarez capped the bottle, set it down, and turned back, rubbing his hands together. “Oh, yeah, man. That’s good. Nice. Big old motherfucking biceps. Flex those guns for me, man.” “I’m flexing these guns for ya, bro. BOOM. Big muscle in the house,” he cried out joyfully. “Yeah, I see you, man. Nice. Nice big muscles. Biggest muscleman on earth, man.” “’Cept for you, bro. You’re bigger,” said Lang. Alvarez stepped onto the dais under the spotlight, and standing between Lang and the mirror, smoothed hot oil onto Lang’s glistening pecs, stroking his muscles appreciatively. They stood nose-to-nose, not six inches apart. Lang flexed powerful biceps. “Don’t know about that.” Alvarez smoothly applied oil to the granite softballs of Lang’s peaks. Lang stared at himself, transfixed. In his posing trunks his heavy cock was already pointing straight ahead. Alvarez clapped Lang’s huge biceps in his palms. “Like fucking rocks.” “Yeah, man, like fucking boulders, I know. Feel ‘em, man. Feel my muscles.” His eyes took in the mirror reflection of Alvarez’s awesome glutes. “I’m there, man, doing your muscles for you, man.” Alvarez licked his pecs, kissed each bulging biceps, and lightly bit Lang’s nipples. Then he knelt, leaned in and whispered again, his face now level to Lang’s bulging crotch. His breath softly exploded onto Lang’s stiffening cockshaft appearing as his posing trunks poled heavily outward. “You’re big, man. Real big.” “I’m big, hunh?” asked Lang. Now that Alvarez was on his knees and not blocking his upper body reflection, he was gazing at himself with hypnotic eagerness. “Motherfucking huge muscleman, dude.” Lang could feel Alvarez’s breath lightly exploding onto his junk. Still, he never looked away from his own reflection. “So reward me, man. Reward me for my muscles. Reward me for this pose.” “You got it, man. Here comes your reward.” “Thanks, bro,” purred Lang, gazing now in rapture at the pointing peaks of his biceps, his tongue slightly hanging out. His buddy approved. He was in heaven. He’d taken first place in the show running in his head. He and his buddy. “Just keep posing, man.” Alvarez gently opened his mouth and tenderly began to suck Lang’s big cock through his posing trunks. Lang glided into his next pose, a side-chest. And then a front lat spread. His pelvis pushed forward. His poser straining with cock. The pose and approve ritual always began with each man wearing his posing trunks for as long as he could manage to keep them on. They mentally pictured themselves on a competition stage, posing for overwhelmed judges and an audience of thousands of screaming fans, while under the lights, they were really posing only for each other, taking turns kneeling and occasionally bending and sucking each other’s erect cocks through their trunks. They fantasized no one else would be allowed to touch them. They’d turn and punch the lights out of anyone who dared. But the reality was that anyone who wanted to suck their cocks could do so. With just a little begging. After all, big musclemen deserve to get their cocks sucked. Now Alvarez was licking the bobbing cockhead through the straining cloth, running his tongue up and down Lang’s piss slit. Then he deep-throated him, holding the giant cock tenderly in his warm mouth. He held it for 30 seconds. Above him, Lang gulped and continued to pose. Then Alvarez slowly slid his lips off the big dick. The bulging fabric of the bursting poser was wet with saliva. He looked up and winked at the grateful Lang. “Big musclemen like you work hard,” he said with a quiet smile. “You pump those awesome muscles into unbelievable size. When you flex those muscles, it’s mind-blowing. You deserve a reward for all that hard work. You deserve to get your big cock sucked.” “Thanks, man.” “Don’t mention it, bro.” Alvarez ran his hands smoothly up and down Lang’s obliques, smacking his firm sides. He nodded, then looked up. “You got a lat spread you want to show me, man?” He licked his buddy’s abs and waited. “Comin’ up, “Lang breathed, and with a small explosion of breath, he grabbed the straps of his posers, pulled them taut, planted his fists into his obliques, and pumped his rocky pecs into their full mass. He spread his legs wide, the pouch of his posing trunks bulging forward with his fully erect 10-inch penis. Alvarez, still licking the washboard abs, stroked the cock with his thick fingers, glanced up and nodded. “Good lat spread. Great pecs. Lemme see you bounce ‘em. Show me, now.” “Okay.” Lang began to bounce his flexing pecs back and forth in dance of perfect machine gun muscle rhythm. “Yeah, man. Doin’ some serious pec dancing for you now. Boom. Boom. Boom. Watch ‘em, now. Watch these pecs of mine do their thing.” “Do that pec dance thing for me, baby,” said Alvarez. He watched Lang’s bouncing pecs for a full minute. Then he leaned in and licked the cockhead, again through the posers. “I approve. Here’s your reward.” Alvarez once again opened his mouth wide, and with a quick fleck of his tongue against his lips, took the bulging pouch of Lang’s posers full down his throat. Lang, his pecs still dancing, began to slowly pump his hips, fucking face. Bursts of warm precum began to stain the poser fabric, blooming into a widening pool of moisture. Alvarez could see the giant slit of Lang’s big penis head, and licked respectfully. After a minute, he released another small explosion of breath to signify to the bodybuilder kneeling before him that he was going to change his pose again. “Front double biceps,” he announced, and swung his arms up into mighty peaks. Alvarez pulled back slightly, licked the cockhead again, and rocked back on his heels. In his own posing trunks his cock was now full 11 inches erect and poling above the waistband, slap tight against his abs. “Lookin’ good. Now hold that for two minutes. No, three. Hold that pose solid without moving for three minutes. Then you’ll get your reward.” It was agony. Lang loved it. He fiercely held the mountainous peaks of his 23-inch biceps for three full minutes. Sweat began pouring down his face. “Flexing for ya, man!” He bared his lips and gritted his teeth into a grimace. His veins exploded down his neck. The veins in his forearms were like cables of steel wire. He raised one biceps, then the other, again dancing them back and forth. The baseball peaks of his guns gleamed in the spotlight. On his knees before him, Alvarez gazed up worshipfully, pumping his own cock right out of his posing trunks, but not touching Lang. “It’s been more than three minutes,” Lang finally said through his gritted teeth. “So reward me, man! Suck my cock, man!” “Think you deserve a reward?” Alvarez teased, now stroking Lang’s cock tenderly with his tongue. “For these guns? You bet, baby. Take that big cock of mine down your throat now!” “You got it, man.” Alvarez fell forward onto his knees again, his mouth wide open, and landed bulls-eye onto the giant pole bursting in Lang’s posing trunks, taking it all into his mouth. For three minutes, he sucked cock, up and down, licking, spitting, back and forth, deep sucking. Lang gazed down at him, relaxed his biceps a few seconds, and then resumed the pose. He was rock hard. “Dig these guns, man, and suck my cock. Suck your approval. Pose and approve me. Pose and approve.” “Yeah, you like it when I suck your cock while you’re posing?” breathed Alvarez. He licked the mammoth bulge in Lang’s posing trunks. “I can see you onstage, man. Flexing for all those asshole judges. Blowing them all away. Never seen biceps as big as yours. Never seen a cock as big as yours. Poling out in your posing trunks. Big old heavy bulge. Big cocks need to get sucked.” “Yeah? Well, man, I like it when you suck my cock. I like it when you suck my cock while I’m posing for those assholes.” Greedily, Alvarez licked the cloth covering Lang’s heavy testicles. “Lickin’ your balls now, man, licking your balls.” “Put ‘em in your mouth, man. Put my balls in your mouth.” Still flexing, he looked down and eyed Alvarez’s cock hungrily. Alvarez was pumping it now with both hands. It looked like a firehose. Suddenly Lang wanted to suck it. But he didn’t want Alvarez to stop. He dropped to his knees. Alvarez lowered with him, knowing what he wanted. As he watched, Lang flexed his right biceps one more time; Alvarez nodded approval; then Lang leaned in to Alvarez’s cock. He pulled the posing trunks over the cockhead onto Alvarez’s balls, and brought it into his mouth. Alvarez kept sucking. Together the two bodybuilders slowly lowered their huge bodies onto the posing dais under the spotlight and began to service each other with a full-body 69 grapple. Their arm muscles rippled against each other as each man gripped the other’s hard glutes, thick fingers gripping slabs of butt muscle. Each man ecstatically sucked his muscle buddy’s gigantic rod, their balls both still barely covered by their straining posing trunks. After 18 minutes of violent 69 sucking, their posing trunks finally tore from the strain. Rrr-i-i-i-i-pp! Their bullish balls burst free in unison, and each man eagerly licked the other’s heavy testicles passionately. “Next time, you pose first,” whispered Lang, and Alvarez looked over at him, grinned, and flexed a biceps. Lang nodded seriously. “I approve,” he said, “now here’s your reward,” and he bent in, sucking cock. The slurping, moaning, sucking sounds echoed down the corridor. In his room, Private Chris Hension, lying naked in bed, covered with sweat, his pole rising stiffly towards the ceiling, finally couldn’t take it any more. He jumped out of bed, grabbed a robe and a pair of purple spangly posers, stepped into them, fitting his huge member into the pouch with some difficulty, and tore out of his room. He ran down the hallway, his half-tumescent, half-sheathed cock waggling in the breeze, and stopped at Alvarez’s door. He waited an instant – and was about to knock – but, what the hell. He banged on the door, threw it open, and walked in. He knew it would be unlocked. Somehow instinctively he knew they were waiting for him. And so they were. The two musclemen lay on the dais, sucking each other’s cocks, their mammoth physiques coated with a glistening layer of sweat. Without removing dick from mouth, each man slowed for a moment and gazed up at Hension questioningly. “Were we making too much noise?” asked Alvarez, his speech garbled by Lang’s cock. “Yeah. I’d say,” said Hension. He threw his robe to the floor and stood before them in his favorite posing strap, his own erection poling straight ahead. He slammed the door behind him and stepped forward, whipping his arms up into a front double biceps. “Check me out,” he commanded, but there was a note of hopefulness in his voice. Of desperation, Alvarez quietly noted to himself. Good, good, all to the good. “Damn. He’s a pretty little muscleboy, ain’t he?” said Alvarez, momentarily releasing Lang’s cock. “He sure is,” said Lang, doing the same. “You see me every day, guys. I ain’t so little,” said Hension, flexing. “Maybe we’ve never noticed you before.” “Fuck you both.” “Oh, sorry. Maybe you should leave?” “NO! I wanna play too!” Hension flexed feverishly. “Okay. We’ll think about it.” Alvarez licked Lang’s dick a few times and lolled his head back towards Hension. Lang, however, appeared to take no more interest, turning his full attention to sucking his buddy’s dick. He bent in and deep-throated Alvarez’s stiff penis a few times, gagging slightly, and then resumed his gentle, steady sucking and licking. “You sure are pretty. Big biceps. Big. Good quads. Turn around.” Hension turned around, did a rear lat spread, pointing his shapely round glutes to the ceiling. “Nice. Awesome hams. Lang, you see those hams?” …..Suck suck suck suck suck…. “No? Hmmm. Guess he’s busy. Come on over here and flex for us while we suck some cock.” And Alvarez turned back to Lang’s quivering member, appearing indifferent. “I’ll show you guys,” muttered Hension, stepping onto the dais. He was ready. He’d been waiting a long time for this. And he’d been kidded, slapped, punched, and pushed around too long to not grab the moment. His moment. “I’m gonna flex now, and you’re gonna watch me!” he shouted. From the floor of the dais, Alvarez and Lang turned and looked up at him. There was a pause. “So go ahead,” said Alvarez. “Let’s see what you got.” He paused. “Boy,” he added.