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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.

It's been almost a full year since I've started this story. I get off task so easily I'm posting this and another chapter before I submit my entry for GB's contest. Sorry to anyone who actually liked this story and have been waiting for me to get off my lazy ass. Dedicated to godofjurai13 Bear’s Cub Part 13 Part 1: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1985-the-bears-cub-part-1/ Part 2: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/2044-the-bears-cub-part-2/ Part 3: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/2154-the-bears-cub-part-3/ Part 4: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/2248-the-bears-cub-part-4/ Part 5: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/2335-the-bears-cub-part-5/ Part 6: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/2625-the-bears-cub-part-6/ Part 7: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/2787-the-bears-cub-part-7/ Part 8: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/2829-the-bears-cub-part-8/ Part 9: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/3050-the-bears-cub-part-9/ Part 10: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/3231-the-bears-cub-part-10/ Part 11: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/4333-the-bears-cub-part-11/ Part 12: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/4345-the-bears-cub-part-12/ It was relatively busy on the night shift of the gay strip joint. Hustling and bustling of guys moving around and chasing after tight waisted, tanned bodies of male strippers in tight underwear. The bar was packed with guys hitting on each other for cheap sex and miserable desire for affection. The ones with self respect showed their dominance over these guys like lion to elk. But lately, the conversation wasn’t ever about deer or elk. Two men sat a table near the dancers, each one nursing some half drunken beers. “You hear about Bear?” “What about him?” “You don’t know” “Why the fuck would I ask if I knew” “Sheesh, smart ass. I was just about to bring up his return from the championship.” “Which one? He’s captain of almost the entire athletic department. Rugby, soccer, football, basketball, swimming, the list goes on.” “Well I’m talking about football but, when you put it that way, it’s not all that big for him to win another championship, is it?” “What would make this one different from the rest?” Things like that circulated throughout the bar. People were talking about the most impressive person in the area and his fraternity pack of muscle pups. Of course, calling them pups was getting more and more ridiculous over time. Since the last member they recruited, Cub, the entire bushel of pups had gone through what most would call a mutation. The sizes they were hitting individually were making fiction seem more realistic. And Cub…. “Have you seen him yet?” asked one guy in the middle of seducing another man at the bar. “Cub? Why wouldn’t I? That kid is getting pretty big in town.” “Can’t believe that little thing was able to find his own club beyond the others.” “Yeah, he’s shooting up the ranks. You think the captain of the team will be pissed?” “What do you mean? Isn’t the captain Bear?” “No, that team actually belongs to one of the few captains able to make an agreement with Bear.” “Who?” “Remember that guy, Benny Pickmen?” “Oh right! I totally forgot! But why would he be pissed about someone from Bear’s frat joining the team? Isn’t that good for them to get more recruits?” “Maybe for everyone who’s a recruit or a member but not the captain. Remember what happened with all the others?” “Oh shit, you’re right. They all started off as just average members when they came in from high school but quickly became the vice captains, right?” “Yeah, any vice captain of one of Bear’s teams would just get knocked down to the other members. They’ve been calling it ’Bear’s Curse’” “Doesn’t he just promote them because they’re in his frat?” “Ha! You’d think that if you’ve never met him. I’ve heard him give speeches when the athletic teams throw a party. He raises a real fit about captains promoting who’s the best.” “What if he isn’t doing that?” “If you’re one of the guys desperate to join Bear’s frat, you’d know that can get you fucked up in an alley. Plus, have you seen those guys? They DESTROY other colleges. Donut alone has put enough players on stretchers in his games this year alone!” The other man adjusted in his seat as he thought about Donut, his biggest crush. He’d only been close to Donut once and he felt almost as though he was a midget in the world the way Donut would fill a room or a space. “But Bear’s not the captain in Cub’s sport….” “Yeah, Benny noticed.” The man telling the story checked his watch and guzzled the rest of his beer before pushing himself up. “Well, that’s the end of story time. See you. Mark my words, Cub’s going to be the first pup of Bear’s to be a full captain. Fuck how small he is compared to his brothers.” The other man leaned back in his chair and scratched the back of his neck, his attention no longer drawn to the men dancing. “Was that enough for you or do we need to find another half drunk loser to make a point for you” said a deep voice behind the man. The man sitting at the chair threw an arm over the chair to look behind himself at the blonde, blue eyed man standing behind him. “No need, Toxic” said the sitting man before taking another sip of his beer and standing up. Even when standing, he couldn’t even compare to the giant Toxic. “Shit, you guys are getting massive” the man said up to his large counterpart. “You didn’t fucking answer. Can you deal with the pups, Clarke?” asked Toxic with the most intense look. The man named Clarke was slient as he looked into Toxic’s eyes. That ferocity in his blazing blue eyes was clear in his stare. Clarke knew he was incapable of saying no in this situation. The giant was off break, and only wearing his tight grey vest with his cuffed jeans and Italian leathered boots that were large to try and contain his rapidly growing feet. Every part of this man was well tailored and imposing, his well tanned skin wrapped around muscles that questioned and governed authority. He was an adios looking down at his subject. Clarke knew better than to look directly at Toxic. “Fine, I can get them taken care of for you” he said. Toxic’s jaw unclenched and he gave a satisfied grin at his business partner. “Great” he said as he turned and started to walk off. Clarke’s curiosity is what kept him for another minute. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this” he said to the 6’8 man. Toxic stopped for a moment as though thinking how to answer this. “I’m the only one who loves Bear. I don’t want to share him with anyone else. Now excuse me. The brat is having a competition tonight and all the pups are required to be there to support their ‘brother’.” Toxic was gone before Clarke could ask anymore questions. He had bigger and better things to deal with. ---- The school gym was packed with an audience all in darkness as the stage that had been set was given a spotlight to prepare for the last contender to squat the 2200 pounds of weight for the state championship, the many there all chattering over the great athletes from both sides. Still they were waiting for the one that actually mattered. A large asian college boy and another even bigger man with dark hear and dark clothes sat beside him, both in the front seats. “You think he can handle that much? He looked pretty nervous last week getting ready” said Hare as he took another bite out of his hotdog hungrily and then scratched his lightly bearded face. “He’s our little Cub. He worked hard for this, Hare. There’s no question of whether he can do it.” Balls said this with complete assurance as he raised an arm exposed by his tight black tank top and scratched the coarse black armpit hair. He had grown a lot of hair since all of them started their weird growth spurts and he wasn’t exempt from any of the benefits. Hare and Balls had no one sitting behind them because they had grown so much in height and width. It was like a bumpy wall of muscle blocking anyone’s view directly behind them. Luckily, they were on the gym benches so the stairs went higher. Hare held up his phone, the view of the stage clear as they prepared. “Where’s Donut, Taker, and Slugger?” Hare asked as he made sure the feed he was giving was secure. Hare leaned back onto the bench behind them and used It as a back for a makeshift chair. His big back muscles were the perfect cushion as he stretched out and let his massive 7 foot 10 inches tall body relax. “Donut and Taker and pumping the kid up. They volunteered to help on his big day.” “And Bear?” ask Hare. “Bear insisted that we do this while he’s waiting at the house” Balls said while also scratching his growing, much larger beard. “He said that he didn’t want to ruin Cub’s moment in the sun. Same thing he did with us.” Both were silent as they remembered their first time trying to beat their school records in their individual teams. That day they had to beat the best of the best and Bear wasn’t there to protect them. Each one had to deal with the struggle of not having Bear beside them in the 11th hour. Still, loved him for not being there until the very end and being there to grab them and congratulate them on a good job. “This might as well be his real initiation” Hare said as he adjusted the camera when the spotlight widened. “Nah, I’m glad we got to watch our youngest brother grow” Balls said. Ever since Balls got his own personal night with Balls, like Donut and the others, he’d learned to love his brother like the cub he was, in need of a little nurturing. No sex was needed between them that night, as with the others. They only needed each other’s company to feel the throws of amazing euphoria. Still, they all wanted it badly and had been waiting for this fateful day when Cub would excel past his peers in the powerlifting team and be permitted to fuck with the other pups on their nights out and occasional sex parties without Bear. Both Balls and Hare were growing in their pants, their long and awakening cocks stretching longer and thicker as they heard the crowd cheer and Cub’s name was called. They had almost forgotten the name since Cub had joined, his original name being but a remnant of his past and didn’t involve them or the time they’d been lucky enough to share with him. That’s when they saw his silhouette in the shadow of the spotlight. They could see he was walking nervously ahead of two hulking figures that could only have been Donut and Taker. When he walked into the light, everyone cheered. “Wow, his forehead is glistening in the light” said, a grin forming. “Our nervous little brother, always the wreck” Balls smiled and then giggled deeply with his strong voice. --- I was like a deer in headlights when the lights came on. Everyone was staring at me but I couldn’t see anyone’s eyes except Hare’s and Balls’s. Balls raised an arm in greeting nodded his head, giving me a little warmth in my chest. Hare was smiling broadly, his confidence wavering. They’re confident I’m going to be able to lift this, I thought as I looked to the weight sitting on the bar. At 2300 pounds, it was the heaviest I’d ever lifted and, looking back, I’d only ever done it 5 times, the first 4 times with difficulty. I looked down at my feet past my pecs tried to center myself. Since our growth spurts, I’d been growing along with the other pups, my own personal growth exceeding most of the others in speed. At 6’5 and 260 pounds, I’d grown a complete 7 inches. That put me at an inch less growth speed than Taker or Donut, two who were originally giants before I arrived and then seemed to explode in size. Each one was like a pillar of testosterone. Both were wearing shorts and black shirts to match the rest of the helpers but both probably owned more size and strength combined than probably all of the other helpers combined. The few clothes they were wearing had been specially ordered but still tensed and strained at their herculean mass. My mind returned to the weight and I passed the observer holding his clipboard to confirm my success on this objective. I grabbed the bar in my callused hands and looked at it. I could feel how it strained to hold so much weight and actually bent a bit. I stared at the weight for what seemed like an eternity before Donut smacked me roughly on the back. Though I’d grown with them, his powerful muscles still knocked me forward. Where’s Bear? I thought. “You got this, Cub” he said through his thick, red beard. Taker grabbed my shoulder. “You can do this. We love you either way, Cub.” I looked back to the bar and my grip tensed. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. I leaned forward and let the cold steel touch the back of my neck. The muscles in legs and arms seemed to tighten a little bit in anticipation. I grunted heavily and felt the weight come up with me. Damn, I thought, how’d I get this strong? I moved forward a little and saw that Donut and Taker were right beside me, ready to save me from the weight. Still, their encouragement made me sure that wasn’t needed. When did I become this strong? I wondered as I held the weight and let the braces around my waist, knees, and wrists hold my joints together. Everyone was silent as I looked out into the darkness that was the crowd. I think I saw Hare’s eyebrows raise as he saw something and then looked back at the camera. My body strained as I began my slow decent. The crowd was silent and Donut and Taker kneeled with me as I went down with the weight, my legs burning and my arms tightly hanging onto the bar. I felt the weight press into my back and cause the muscles to burn as they flexed back at its hardness. I didn’t let fear take me and leave me there as I flexed my legs and pushed back up. I practically roared as I pushed, my body pumping blood and giving me whatever power it could to bring the weight back up. My face was sweating as I drew the weight and didn’t stop fighting. I will put this back on the bar, I thought loudly as I pushed. With a final burst if power, I was back on my feet and my legs were straight again. The crowd roared and cheered loudly, Hare and Balls getting out of their seats and shouting too as I’d finally done. The new record for the school was now a flat 2300 pounds in squats and 2400 pounds bench press. When the weight was racked again and I was standing with my own weight alone, Taker and Donut were all over me. I was sandwiched between two giant forms of muscle and I only half heartedly struggled as they continued to hug me together, my feet hovering over the ground as the two lifted me, their 8 foot tall range heights having me atleast a foot above the stage. The announcer was going to give me the trophy but, my tall captors being pulling me so high up, Donut reached down and grabbed it. He held the gound in his hand and looked down at me, my face nestled between their pecs, my cheeks reddened. “This is yours, Cub. You earned this” he said as he grabbed me around the waist when Taker let me go and put me on his massive shoulders. He grinned as he discovered I was hard as a rock. “I think Bear will be happy to take care of that for you, Cub” he said with a grin as he nodded to Taker and they headed off the stage, the boards creaking under their heavy 800+ and 500+ weights. Hare and Balls were so excited that Balls actually grabbed me and brought me down to kiss me all over my face. I was slowly reddening. “You did it, Cub!” Hare cheered with a big grin as he watched Balls award me an array of kisses. I almost jumped when he raised me high and gave me a big one on the crotch of my small, power lifting shorts. I crossed my legs shyly and squirmed in his powerful grip but stopped when he pressed his lips to my ears and silenced me with the warmth and shagginess of his bearded jaw. “I want to fuck you so badly, Cub” he whispered into my ear. I was beginning to breath heavier as he was so close and his muscles felt so great to me. He wasn’t alone. “Not yet, Balls. We got to give him to Bear tonight. No way the Cub can take a load from you AND Bear. He’ll explode with all that cum in him!” Donut said down to them, his height still imposing as he and Balls were 6 inches apart in height. “He’s waiting outside, by the way.” Everyone looked at each other as they realized their fraternity leader was outside. Hare pulled into the group and showed everyone’s faces. “Bear’s probably cracking up right now. He’s standing outside the frat house right now getting a visual feed of you guys” he said, pointing to his phone to indicate the camera lens. Everyone looked into the lens and a few blushed. “He said that, as soon as we’re done, we’re to take Cub home. Today’s going to be a night with Bear again.” We were out of the door and charging for a the Hummer quickly, the larger pups bodies moving like a stampede and intimidating people out of the way as we got into the Hummer. The one they’d had before I’d arrived was too small so they had to get an extra large one to hold all of us with a big space in the back for Bear. If it wasn’t so tall a vehicle, it could have been a Hummer limo. Instead, it was almost the size of an 18 wheeler. Fitting so many pups into one car required a lot of room. Taker took the wheel and moved out of the parking lot so quickly, there was no time for any one else in the parking lot to pull out of their spaces. We’d become so close that I could see expressions and tell what most of them were thinking. The way they all fidgeted their bodies and their muscles tensed and loosed and they breathed heavily, I knew without a doubt that each one was hungry to have Bear between their legs. I wasn’t much different. --- Meanwhile, back at the gym, a red face watched as Bear's pups left cheerfully, happy their smallest and youngest had succeeded in breaking the powerlifting team's bench press and squat records. 6'7 and 300 beefy pounds of powerlifter, the guy was not pleased that someone smaller than him but associated to Bear had broken his bench press record of 2000 pounds, one he worked for months to perfect and prepare for today. "So, do we have a deal?" came a deep voice behind him. The beefy powerlifter known as Benny Pickmens turned to see his bigger ally, Toxic, standing behind him and hulking with power. Benny's eyes would have been a shade of green if emotions were expressed with visible colors. "Of-fucking-course we have a fucking deal! That little shit is not going to take my team!" he said, taking his big and muscular hand to Toxic's larger one and shaking it roughly the way two big men do. Toxic's perfectly white teeth glistened in the gym lights. "Wonderful. We can begin the plan." To Be Continued……..

"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 NG "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - Inside Zaftig's Lab: The Musclemen Revealed Precis: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable need to receive muscle worship. Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his growing need to receive both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential. To start back at the beginning with Chapter One, click on the link below: "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped October 22nd, 2017 After the bout between Casey and Abdul, the musclemen retired to their separate corners of the compound. The vanquished Abdul, rivulets of dried cum caked to his physique, dragged Pedro along with him back to quarters. “Service me,” he growled. He threw open the door to his room and tossed Pedro onto the floor. Five minutes later, after a satisfying dump and a quick infusion of P21, Abdul was in the center of his room, working out on a speed punching bag hanging from the ceiling. His red, raw fists pummeled the stained leather furiously while Pedro gingerly danced around him, carefully washing the cum off his physique with a wet towel. Occasionally he leaned in and gingerly pressed a warm tongue against the muscle giant’s body, licking the cum-covered muscles respectfully, hoping not to get swatted away. It didn’t happen. Emboldened, he finished cleaning off his god. He took a deep breath, and grabbed ahold of Abdul's musclebutt. "Permission to worship?" he asked hopefully. Abdul grunted, and nodded slightly. Pedro deeply buried his face in the muscleman’s rock hard pillow glutes, feeling the heaviness of iron-like musclebutt cheeks violently knocking his head right and left as Abdul rhythmically punched the bag. This was what his god wanted. He knew this. Abdul said nothing, but slightly arched his back, to better extend his ass and receive the comfort of Pedro’s tongue up his butthole. They lasted like this long into the night, Abdul punching the bag with fury, Pedro probing his tongue deeply into his gyrating asshole, until Abdul reached back, grabbed Pedro by the back of the head, brought him violently around, threw him into the air and forced his massive penis into the teen’s small, hard butt. He fucked the boy mercilessly for about ten minutes, Pedro screaming happily with insane delight, his cries echoing down the corridor, as the giant member pleasurably pounded his butthole into raw meat. When he was near to climax, he pulled out and came about a quart all over Pedro’s writhing, grateful little bottom, grunting deeply as he shot, a bear in the woods. UNGH UNGH UGNH YEAH A moment later he push-kicked Pedro’s butt away. Pedro went sprawling, his hard little bottom covered with cum. “Get out of here,” he snarled, but with something like warmth, or so Pedro thought. “Yes, sir!” Pedro squeaked, and ran for the door. Abdul was asleep in 2 minutes. He dreamed only of revenge. Pedro scampered back to his room, where he masturbated gleefully for the next hour, envisioning a world of musclemen as he worked his pretty little cock into repeated starbursts of cum frenzy. He finally drifted into a woozy, muscle-filled sleep about 3 AM, knowing he’d have to be up by 6 to start breakfast with the compound chefs for the 19 musclemen. It was heaven. He was living in heaven. Lang and Alvarez drifted back to Alvarez’s room, where they posed-and-approved for about 45 minutes before falling asleep on the dais, Alvarez’s cock languidly filling Lang’s mouth, their ripped posers discarded and on the floor. Schumacher, Jin, Washington, Obatu and LeFevre carried the knocked-out Blankenship to his room. Fortunately, P-21 strengthened bones, too, and Blankenship’s black and blue jaw was okay – otherwise, it might well have been shattered by the force of Abdul’s powerful punch. They retired separately to their rooms and reflected on what they’d seen tonight. This Rockland kid was a threat. In their separate quarters all five men jerked off, and thought. And thought. And jerked off. Hearing Pedro’s echoing, ecstatic cries as he was being masterfully buttfucked by Adbul, each man shot muscle cum up and out into the dark, splashing onto their abs, the floor, the ceiling, everywhere. Blankenship, of course, was out for the night. Deep in his knocked cold sleep, he dreamt vaguely of doing endless sets of curls. And squats. Especially squats. He smiled in his sleep, two teeth missing. Tiffany, smug and satisfied and unaware his life was about to drastically change, drifted off. He remembered Casey from the world outside, but it was clear the big dumb muscleboy didn’t remember him. Yet. Eli Meyer, quietly determined to get off on real muscle, and not just fantasy, followed Hension back to his room. He knocked on the door, and Hension, startled, opened up. Meyer smiled. He went in. For the next hour the two men took turns with some heavy butt fucking. In turns, each muscleboy’s big dick met the other’s hard glutes and sweetly receiving butthole as they fucked each other silently in the dark. Finally Hension spoke, even as Meyer ploughed him. “Stinkface me,” he said, emphasizing the words, turning his head back and to the side so that the deaf Meyer could read his lips. It was all he said. It was all he had to say. Meyer nodded agreement, pulled his thick cock out of Hension’s butthole, got up and squatted down onto Hension’s handsome face, burying him in striated, iron glutes. He rotated and jerked his big dick. A few minutes later both men came, cum splashing sloppily onto Hension’s ripped abs, pooling in the deep valleys of muscle. And five minutes after that, both were curled up and asleep on the floor, wrapped deeply into each other’s muscles. In their separate quarters, McIntyre and Duncan, ever quiet and reflective, sat up awhile and listened to the compound’s nocturnal moans and gasps, punctuated by the sounds of the speed bag, and then the butt fucking drifting down the corridors. Finally each man reached into his pouch and jerked off again before hitting the hay. Gunst headed right to the gym. He tooled himself through a punishing biceps workout, doing curls long into the night, then flexing and inspecting. Gotta get these guns bigger, he grumbled to himself. Eventually he crawled off to quarters and to bed, and without jerking off. The others – Chad, Bogarde, and Waring – stood in a darkened corner of the hallway leading from the wrestling room, hungrily sucking one another’s cocks and taking turns butt fucking for an hour or so, before turning in for the night. And in the backs of the minds of all the men on campus were visions of the perhaps-perfect newest member of the club, the young bodybuilder whose gigantic, ripped and raw physique they had gotten their first taste of this evening. Moster, in his quarters, was satisfied. He slept without dreaming. He had to pick up Casey in the cadet dorms mid morning, and bring him back up the hill to his new muscle life. Unaware of the muscle sex going on in the compound behind him, and unaware of how his muscles started it all, a shuttle bus took sole passenger Casey back down the hill the two miles to the cadet dorm near the front gates, where he had been living and training the last two years. ************* Early the next morning, after his usual early morning workout and a breakfast of two steaks, 6 eggs, unbuttered toast, a quart of yogurt and 3 cups of black coffee, Casey went back to his room and packed his few possessions in preparation for his move up the hill to the main compound. His black eye still stung from the night before, but it also looked – well – incredibly hot. Or so Casey thought, inspecting it closely in his mirror. There were six other cadets in the dorm. Five of them gathered to quietly watch him pack up his few belongings, giving him congratulations and good luck and a sad little goodbye party. It was just a few protein bars, a colorful do-rag, a new gym bag (which they all chipped in on) and five slightly torn oversized XXXL-sized jockstraps. Casey knew they went to some trouble to get everything together. He was deeply grateful. But he didn’t know what to say. In truth, Casey hadn’t really gotten to know any of his fellow cadets in the two years he had been in residence in the cadet dorm. It was not from any snobbery, but from shyness and his natural reticence against intimacy in dormitory settings. All the same, apart from Miles Donovan and Ramon Ramon, Casey counted them as among his few friends in the world. “I’m gonna miss you guys,” he said. He sniffed a little. These guys were like him. Lonely, nice boys who had nowhere to go except the gym, and nothing to do but pound their bodies every day, growing big muscles. Over 1450 pounds of burgeoning, testosterone-fueled teen muscle gathered in 10 x 16 square foot room. And there was a lot of emotion in the air. Casey was their hero, and at 310 pounds, and at just 18 years of age, he was already far and away the biggest of all of them. Something had to happen. “You been ready a long time for those dudes,” said Cadet Tommy Rowenstein, a tousled blond middleweight Jewish Tom Sawyer of muscleboy who liked to work on his pecs. “Surprised they didn’t ask you long ago.” “Guess they know best when I’m ready.” “That how you got the shiner, Case?” “Shut up, dick wad.” “Can we come up the hill visit you?” asked Alan Owenbee, a sweet-faced young cadet with a friendly face and a slightly sub par physique that all knew would never develop much further. “Naw, we can’t go up there,” said Cadet Brent Ogden. “You know the rules. Plebes only by invitation. And they never invite us.” He sounded forlorn. “Sure,” said Casey. “You can come. I’ll ask. I’ll get permission. You can all come. We can all train together up there in the big gym.” “Gee, you think? Really??” “Shit, thanks, Case!” “Yeah, thanks!” The boys couldn’t believe the possible good news, and were now almost bouncing with excitement. “I’m gonna work on my guns with ya!” shouted Ogden. The others glanced at Ogden and grinned. An angel-faced kid with red hair, he had nice big muscles for a 15-year old, and surprisingly ripped abs, already weighing in at 185 pounds. He also had a complete inability to filter his speech. They all suspected he was a little slow. “At last, someone even dumber than me, “ Casey thought. No one knew whether or not he had any family; like Casey, Ogden was a foundling. Casey tousled his hair affectionately and zipped up his duffel. “I’ll always work on my guns with you, Brent.” Ogden grinned from ear to ear, his life made. He grew beet red with embarrassment and pleasure and spent the next few minutes inspecting his own biceps, flexing and unflexing them thoughtfully. Another cadet with more promise, and lot more self confidence, Brian Banks, a handsome black-haired extra lean 1950s greaser type turned bodybuilder, watched Casey from the corner, perched on the window seat, his deep-lidded dark eyes half closed. “So, Case, what happened last night?” “I’m not sure yet.” He turned and looked helplessly at all of them. They were waiting for some kind of an answer. “Yeah, Case, what happened?” He knew all the cadets admired and respected him. Overall, they were a pretty good bunch of guys, even if for the most part they had no muscle future. But he could use some friends, if last night’s wrestling match had been any indication of where this was all headed. And he was still thinking about last night. Those bodybuilders up the hill were a wild and crazy bunch. Huge, every one of them, the biggest musclemen Casey had ever seen, or even imagined. And even the younger guys, like that pretty-faced dude Hension, the mute Eli Meyer, and the wide-eyed Lang, seemed to have agenda of their own. And then there was that big mean bull, the Turkish guy, Karim Abdul. And Schumacher, who had growled at him and threatened him. Scary dudes. But hot. The wrestling was fun, though, when he thought about it. Casey had surprised at himself, at how skilled he was, how strong and fast. But then he had learned a lot from Ramon Ramon at Miles Donovan’s, and though Ramon was 3 times his age and far smaller, Ramon could always beat him. So he learned from the best. And – true – a few times when Casey shot his load on the wrestling mat after a bout, Ramon Ramon had joined him. There was something fun, something special about the tough, grizzled old daddy Latin wrestler happily pounding his hairy big meat, lying there next to Casey on a slick, sweat-drenched, stinky wrestling mat. And Casey knew Ramon was straight. No sissy, he. Straight straight straight, with a hot, mean, pretty little wife he fucked hard every night, or so he said. Casey had no reason to doubt him. I wonder how Abdul would do wrestling with Ramon? Casey wondered. And then, after all, all the bodybuilders had shot their loads all over the two of them last night at the end of the wrestling match, all over him and Abdul. He hadn’t expected that. Was it an insult? Or an honor? Casey was still having trouble taking it all in. And what about that punch that Abdul threw at Blankenship? It was awesome. Abdul’s fist shot out like a cannon, catching the handsome, smirking bodybuilder Blankenship right on the point of the chin. Probably broke his jaw. The guy’s feet never touched the ground. He just flew into the air and landed about 20 feet away. And then there was afterwards, with Moster closely inspecting his dick and that little ginger muscledude Tiffany sucking it just to find out how big it really was. Measuring dick size by mouth. It was all pretty weird. And he never even did get to do even a basic posing routine. He wanted to show these guys how much he liked to pose. Maybe he could pose for them later today? Casey really liked to pose. He did it for hours, alone in his room, peering into his crummy full-length mirror, looking for any improvements, and weaknesses, any new veins, any new striations, any sign of lingering babyfat. He wasn’t used to an audience. Casey had never known many people, and he certainly had never competed onstage, even though Miles Donovan had encouraged him to consider it. And now that he had trained hard, lived for training and diet and posing for so many years, now with the Home behind him and all the bullies, he was ready for others to see how big his muscles were. He was ready to pose for admirers. For a crowd. He hadn’t done that yet. So maybe these guys would accept him more if he posed for them? The babyfat was long gone, after all. And he was sure he could learn a few things, too. Maybe get some pointers from that dude Alvarez. He heard that Alvarez and Lang were always practicing their posing. But in any event, Casey now knew, after last night, that just having big muscle wasn’t enough. A big cock was pretty important, too. For the first time he was beginning to feel relieved, even joyful about his huge member. He had always been so embarrassed about it, he could never hide it, it was always prominent in his jeans, in whatever he wore. People could always see it flopping around in his pants, pushing out his fly in an obscene bulge. And he hadn’t found posing trunks that he really fit in yet. Not trunks, at least, that he wasn’t always popping out of, or worse, ripping the fabrics to shreds with his first big hardon. And posing usually gave him a hardon, which he’d have to stop and take care of. He'd shoot pints of milky thick cum against his mirror, and then he'd have to stop and get a roll of paper towels to clean it al up before he could start again. Or else he wouldn't have been able to see his reflection. And the sight of his muscles was what made him cum so ferociously. It would certainly be a challenge onstage, if he ever decided to compete. He had bought a few posers from online, trying them out, checking for the right colors. But so far, everything he had bought was just so….well….ridiculously inadequate. He hadn’t even begun to think about colors. Even if he managed to get the posers up his treetrunk quads, there was no way the simple kiddie-type pouches were able to cover his hefty manfruit. To say nothing of containing his coconut-sized balls. Still. Even so. “Good thing I got this big meat after all. I guess.” He muttered to himself as he walked, bowlegged as always with his bodybuilder waddle, over to the mirror. The cadets watched him as he walked across the small dorm room. “Hunh?” “What’s that, Casey? About your meat?” Ogden looked up, still inspecting his biceps, but suddenly alert to what was going on in the room. Casey looked back at them and pointed down to the sagging bulge that loomed out of the front of his baggies. “I said, it’s a good thing I got this super big meat. All the guys up there are hung huge. It’s important to them. Sergeant Moster showed me.” He thought for a moment. Maybe those dudes knew where to get posers that actually fit? Or maybe they had them made privately? Probably they did. They had to. And certainly from the layout of the place and the size of the gym and the wrestling room, they could afford a few extra yards of reinforced spandex to hold in a few giant cocks. Banks was studiedly casual. He inspected Casey’s black eye a little more closely and nodded, as if a question was answered. “Unh hunh. Bet he did. I heard about Sergeant Rod Moster. Seems he was there too. He give you that black eye?” “Yeah, he’s the dude in charge. He was there. And no, he didn’t give this to me.” Casey turned back and gazed at his package in the mirror. He repeated. “I had to fight one of them.” “Who?” asked Owenbee, breathless and getting hard now. “Abdul. Karim Abdul.” He paused. “You should see him this morning.” “He got a big package, too?” Casey colored, embarrassed. “Yeah, he does. I mean, I didn’t see it. Well, I didn’t see it well. I mean, I didn’t see it close up….” He stopped, confused. The guys were looking at him. “Well, one thing, these are the biggest goddam dudes I ever saw in my life.” “Lookin’ good?” “Fucking awesome. All of them. Moster’s like 7’ tall. No bodyfat. Biceps the size of my head. And…” “Big package?” “Yeah. He has the biggest dick. They say it’s the biggest dick on earth.” Casey turned back and began to flex for himself feverishly in the mirror. He had to get bigger. Banks liked Casey well enough and would miss him in the dorms. Even if the young muscle giant was a little dopey and innocent. Okay, Casey was stupid. Everyone knew it. Dumb as a bag of hammers. But a sweet guy, if you didn’t get on his wrong side. And besides, he’d also long had eyes for Casey’s astonishingly rounded, rock hard glutes, never mind the cock, and now knew he probably wasn’t gonna dip his stick inside the promised land of Casey’s musclebutt for a long time to come. If ever. Or even suck his dick. Maybe some day. Oh, well. Still, he wished Casey well. He was a good dude. He’d stand up for him any time. Now he stood behind him, watching his superwide batwing lats as he posed in the mirror, watching his perfect big round rolling glutes quivering a little in the seat of his stretched-tight pants. “I hear there’s a lot of sex in the main compound,” he said slyly. “Yeah, I guess there is.” Casey slowed down posing, caught Banks’ eye in the mirror, was a little circumspect. Not that he knew what the word meant, but that is what he was at that moment. “No chicks, though?” “No, I guess there ain’t. I didn’t see any last night.” Casey blew out a blast of air, followed by a honk of laughter. The tension eased. He grabbed his duffel and turned around towards the boys. “No chicks!” “Good!” said Ogden, still inspecting his biceps. “Guess I’m big enough. Thanks for the party, guys,” he added. “And the, um….” He gestured to his duffel bag. “….the extra jockstraps…..I can always use them.” “Actually, two of them were already yours. We just re-retrieved them from….somebody…” said Rowenstein. Owenbee turned crimson with shame and embarrassment. “Hey. Thanks. Alan, you were always a good friend. Here. Wait a moment.” Casey put his duffel down, lifted his heavy sweatshirt and kicked out of his baggies, stepping out of them fast and surprisingly easily over his big feet. “I have to get these off fast sometimes, so I cut out the, you know, drawstrings around the pants legs, to make it easier to fit over my shoes. Sometimes I don’t have a lot of time before…..” His voice trailed off. “You know.” Banks nodded, feigning seriousness. “We know.” All the cadets knew that sometimes during workouts Casey suddenly had to shoot a load, and to avoid coating his baggies with splotches of his unusually heavy, copious cumspurts, he ripped off his sweatpants and shot into a bucket that he kept on the side of the gym floor. By the end of the workout, the bucket was often half full. A few of the boys would often sneak away with it afterwards, loving the scent, loving the taste, drinking it all down, hoping it would make them grow into a muscle monster like Casey. “Yeah. We all know,” said Ogden. Owenbee and Rowenstein both nodded seriously. “Yeah, you got a problem, dude.” Rowenstein couldn’t help chuckling a little. “Big problem.” Then they both grinned, their smooth boyish faces lighting up. “I know.” Casey smiled. “So why is it, by the way, all this time I been here, that so many of my jocks go missing?” Shuffling of feet. Heads down. “Aw, Case…..” said Ogden. He stood before them in his sagging, bulging jock. “This one is new, I just got it.” All knew he had to order his jocks and posers online. Standard sizes just didn’t fit, and then the posers just didn’t last. “Here.” He curled his thumbs around the reinforced jock straps on his loins and tugged. His cock popped out and hung free, 10 solid inches of soft thick swaying girth. “Jesus,” breathed Owenbee. Banks was impressed. Ogden just panted. He pulled his new jockstrap down over his massive quads and stepped out of it carefully, lifting each big, smooth foot slowly, and then handing it to Owenbee. “You always been a good friend to me.” Casey teared up a little, but wasn’t so sentimental that he didn’t playfully waggle his penis’ full 10 inch soft, flaccid weight, then whipping it heavily from side to side. Smack! Smack! For a moment he slapped it heavily from quad to quad, and then looked up at Owenbee and Ogden and smiled sweetly. “It’s too big for most jocks,” he explained. “Yes, we’ve noticed,” said Banks, very serious. Owenbee took the jock gratefully, raised it to his nose and took a deep whiff. In his jeans his young teen cock throbbed to life. “Gee, thanks, Casey!” “Don’t mention it.” Casey pulled his baggies back up, covering his cock. “Going commando, Case?” asked Banks. Casey looked at him blankly. “I don’t know what that means.” “You will.” Casey shrugged, and sat down to lace his shoes. “Guess I better be going. Say goodbye to Danny Taylor. Where’s he this morning?” “His mama called. She wanted him back in Santa Barbara. He’ll be back tonight. He said to say goodbye.” He eyed the heavy sagging bulge in Casey’s lap. His cock was aching to get back out again, taste the air, straining the crotch of his sweatpants, pointing downward but twitching, threatening to rise, bulging in the fabric every which way. Banks sniffed a little, seemingly unconcerned, but Casey knew Banks probably missed his buddy Danny, the only cadet in the squad who actually came from a family and a good home. A blond surfer-dude turned bodybuilder, Danny and Brian were always pumping together and then going out looking for girls and to get laid. And unlike The Nineteen up the hill, the young cadets, still not indoctrinated into the squad, could come and go as they pleased. Not that these young muscleboys had anywhere to go….other than the gym and the bars in nearby San Jose, or maybe further up the coast to San Francisco. “Well…..goodbye then. Come and see me.” “Hey, dude. Before you go….give us one last flex?” asked Ogden shyly. “Yeah, dude. Pose for us one more time,” said Owenbee. “Like you used to do before you got so serious.” “Yeah, Case. Go ahead. Let’s see what you got.” That from Banks. Casey looked closely at Banks. “Sure, guys. Yeah. Be glad to.” He stepped back into the room and ripped off his sweatshirt. The muscle cadets crowded around him eagerly. He stood shirtless, his huge muscles gleaming in the morning light. “Here goes. Pow,” said Casey. He flexed a huge right arm bicep and moved his left hand back to the back of his head, ‘doin’ hair’ like the young Tom Platz from 40 years ago. “Wow!” “Jeez, Case, yer bigger than ever!” “Fuckin huge, man!” “That’s “doin’ hair,” dudes. Platz. ‘Doin’ hair,’ ” he repeated. “Can I feel it?” ‘My hair?” “No, dude….” “He wants to feel your muscles, Casey,” Banks explained, with exaggerated patience. “Oh. Sure.” Casey thought a moment. “Yeah! Sure! Come on!” Owenbee stepped forward eagerly and grabbed Casey’s biceps. His fingers ran over the vascular triple-heads. “Sure is nice!” he yelled. “How big?” He tapped the hardness of the peaks with his fingers, which bounced back. Impenetrably hard. “I don’t know. 25 inches? 27? I don’t know. Here come some big pecs.” He gave them a side chest, popping his pecs, his pouty brown nipples pointing down to the carpet. “Boom,” said Casey. “Wow! Frigging huge!” “You’re swole, man!” “Yeah, I got big pecs,” said Casey modestly, turning his head back, inspecting his two huge pectoral globes in the mirror. He bounced them up and down thoughtfully. “May I lick your nipples, Casey?” squealed Ogden. Casey was confused a moment. He stopped and turned and looked quizzically at Ogden. For a moment the two muscleboys were afraid, afraid that Casey would start handing out a roomful of black eyes and broken noses, powerful punches that were sure and methodical and swift and punishing. But Banks wasn’t afraid. “You like this, dontcha Case?” It didn’t happen. “Sure, I guess. Yeah. I like it. Come on up and lick ‘em. I never got licked and touched when I posed before. Let alone watched.” He thought some more. “Guess I do like it! Can you reach? Here’s another. Bam,” he said, swinging into a front lats pose. “Bam and double bam.” Ogden scampered up, reached wide, grabbed Casey by both lats and began eagely to lick his nipples. “You got awesome pecs, dude!” “You’re strong, too,” said Banks calmly. “Those dudes up there on the hill as strong as you?” “Yeah, I think they are.” Casey was inspecting his front lats pose in the mirror. “You’re in my way,” he said to Ogden. “I can’t see.” “Sorry, Case!” “Just move to the side a little so I can check myself out.” Ogden quickly stepped aside and leaned in, licking one nipple. “Okay, that’s enough. Reach around if you have too.” “How thick is your neck, Case?” “About 25 inches I think.” “How about your quads?” “Sure.” Casey pumped and rotated his thighs, still covered up in the baggies. “Oh, I forgot. Guess you can’t see.” He rolled them down to his ankles and stood in the center of the room, his pants down, flexing for his buddies. His penis loomed heavily over mountains of muscle and veins as he pensively rotated his quads for all the muscleboys to see. The muscleboys licked their lips. “No, I mean, how big are they?” “I dunno. 33 inches? Never measured.” He rotated a huge quad slowly, staring intently at it. “Got some new veins popping in here. Look at that diamond shape. Hard.” He slapped his quads, both of them. “They’re hard, man! See how hard I am? You guys see it?” Banks eased his nicely rounded butt off the window seat, where he’d been perched, watching the proceedings. He strolled over to Casey, thumbs hooked in his tight jeans, his black spandex t-shirt rippling with extra lean, hairy muscle. His own appreciable bulge flopped lazily from side to side in his fly as he walked slowly towards Casey. “Dude, I think you like to get worshipped.” “Hunh?” Casey turned to him and whipped up a pair of double bi’s. “Check out these gunsssss……” “I see ‘em.” Banks patted them firmly. Yeah. Solid. Cannonballs. Triple-headers. Laced with thick veins. He kneaded solid muscle between calloused thumb and finger. He pulled. Paper-thin skin. “These are biceps…. “ said Casey, breathing heavy, loving every second of it. “Nice. They are. Big biceps. Very nice indeed. But my tastes run to….something……darker……” He knew all about Moster. That was the dude he wanted. Banks turned to Ogden, absorbed in licking Casey’s big brown nipples. “Whyn’t you lick his biceps too, dude? He said he likes to get licked.” He turned to Casey. “Dontcha, Case?” “I’m gonna pop you right in the eye,” Casey said, but he smiled. He flexed mightily. “C’mon, lick ‘em.” His steely fists strained red. Suddenly he longed to punch Banks in the eye. Give him a big black eye. No, two black eyes. He wasn’t mad. He just wanted to punch him. “Yeah, lick his biceps, dude. And kiss ‘em for us, Case.” “Hunh??” “Kiss your biceps, bro! G’wan, kiss ‘em!” “Why do I want to do that?” “Try it and see. See how it feels.” Casey shrugged. His traps bounced up a little and bumped Owenbee’s head, who was trying to lean in to get a closer feel on Casey’s bi’s. “Oh. Sorry.” Meanwhile Ogden was now licking his right biceps, so Casey turned to the left and, leaning in while raising an elbow, began to softly lick and kiss his bulging cannonball bi’s. Casey forgot all about wanting to punch Banks and continued flexing. Hmmm. The licking felt good. “This feels good,” he announced. He kissed himself again, and turned, grinning cockily to Banks. “Guess I won’t bust you in the eye right now.” Banks smiled. He understood. “It’s okay, Casey. I’m your friend. You can trust me. And the boys.” “But I still wanna slug you.” “You just want to slug somebody. Not me.” “Guess you’re right. But sometime soon I’m gonna start some slugging.” He flexed. “Look at these big gunnnnssss….” he repeated. By now the other four cadets were grouped around Casey, touching, feeling, pawing, stroking, kissing and licking every muscle they could reach, climbing over him, feeling him, all while remaining respectfully distant from the heavily looming cock. Owenbee got on his knees and knelt before Casey’s massive, exposed rear, began caressing the twin globes of Casey’s monster round, hard butt, feeling where the gluteus muscles rolled in, where they bulged out, where they lead down to mammoth obtruding hamstrings and up to the small of his back. He wanted to bury his young, smooth face into the deep buttcrack, but knew he’d better not. He wanted to lick it, too. But he knew that might not be a good idea, either. Not yet, anyway. So he contented himself just to do deep tissue massage on the two giant round butt orbs before him, following their rolling movements as Casey posed above him. It was like kneading iron. But he loved it. “How do you feel, Case?” Banks was stroking Casey’s broad upper pec shelf with a connoisseur’s appreciation. “Good. I feel very good. I like flexing for you guys.” “Good. And we like when you flex for us. Nice pecs.” Banks flicked one of Casey’s nipples with a thumb and forefinger. Casey responded, immediately ballooning his pecs hugely, digging his fists into solid rippled obliques and expanding chest muscles high to the skies, so it seemed, to the ceiling and beyond. “This is called worship, by the way,” Banks added. “The way the guys are touching you now. The way I am touching you.” He ran a smooth hand across his pecs and looked him deeply in the eyes. “Admiring you. Admiring your muscles. Getting off on your muscles. That’s worship.” “You’re huge, Case,” said Ogden. “Big fucking muscleman,” said Owenbee. “Awesome muscles, dude,” said Rowenstein. “Tell us what you’re thinking, Case,” said Banks. Casey didn’t know what he was thinking. Was he even thinking? He was just flexing. No, he was thinking. He was seeing….something. Something distant. Pure and good. He breathed out, let out a massive block of air, crunched up, sucked in, intake, breath, blew it out, then more blooming muscle. Expanding everywhere, blowing up, hard and solid and good. He was… …..where was he?.... “Tell us, Case,” repeated Banks softly. “Where are you?” “On the moon, I guess.” He sucked in, expanded his pecs again, turned, inadvertently pushing the boys to the floor, looked in the mirror. The room was quiet. The muscle cadets scrambled away a little, but still touching, still feeling muscle. Tension increased in the room. It was silent except for the sounds of heavy breathing. Casey began to move. He swung from pose to pose. His cock swayed heavily as he moved, slapping his quads. Front biceps. Side chest, front lat spread. Most muscular, the famous crab shot, his veins exploding everywhere, his enormous fists clenched, held steadily before him. “Hold that one,” said Banks. “I think we all want to see this one.” Casey held still. His face grew red, then redder, then beet-red. The veins on his thick neck popped out like huge pylons. And even his massive cock began to retreat a little up into his loins as his blood was needed elsewhere. “Guys? Let’s check out these veins. Okay, Case?” “…yeah…..okay…” “You can breathe, though.” “Okay, thanks.” He breathed in and out. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, searching for flaws, admiring rivers of vascularity, popping iron muscles. “Just don’t relax. Keep flexing. Keep that pose. Keep crunching.” “Can I take your picture, Case?” asked Rowenstein, begging a little. “My picture….?” Casey blew out air. He could barely think. He was just dreaming now. It was a wall, a planet, a universe of his muscle. “Keep crunching. Keep it swole,” said Banks quietly. He touched an iron biceps. “Yeah, okay.” Casey seemed befuddled, but it was because of the most muscular pose, and ….well…because he was still dreaming, now on that distant planet somewhere, where it was all about……muscle. His muscle, to be specific. Where he was posing high on a mountain, still visible to all, to thousands below, thousands of admiring men in the valley beneath him, all calling his name, all playing with their giant tools, their cum spurting and flying, the sun behind him, sweat in his eyes - “A picture. My cellphone? For, um, ….later?” “Later?” Casey barely heard him. “Yeah, later. To admire you later…..whenever I want to…..” The dream was broken for a moment and there was Rowenstein, shrugging and smiling, red-faced, embarrassed. Crab shots were his thing. He loved the solid billboard of muscle and veins. Exploding muscle and veins. “Oh, yeah. Yeah. Sure.” Casey saw Rowenstein’s cock was now poling forward in his khakis. “Made you hard, man?” “Yeah, you did. You do.” Rowenstein grinned toothily and admitted it happily. He pulled out his mobile and began snapping. Relieved, the muscle cadets groped in their pants pockets, next to their now-bulging flies, pulled out cellphones, and, never relaxing, never letting up even a finger on Casey’s massive musculature, began taking pictures. Casey went back to his mountain on his planet. He flexed. He was a god. He knew it. He wanted the universe to see him, to touch him, to admire him, to kneel before him, to reach up to him, to admire his strength, to touch his muscles, to stroke his chest, lick his nipples….. ….to worship him….. ….to suck his dick. Yes, that is what he wanted. He wanted the world to suck his cock. He nodded. That’s what he wanted. Like that hot mean little muscle dude Tiffany did last night. No one had done that before. Now he knew. Yes, and now he knew. Was this why he did it? Why he lifted? Why he had built his physique into the huge muscle sculpture it was now? No, of course not. Not entirely. He wanted to be the biggest and strongest man in the world. That’s what he wanted. But getting his dick sucked at the same time would be a nice perk. Again, he blew up his pecs to their fullest. Twin globes of pure muscle. Boom! Boom! He felt his buddies’ hands all over him. He was dizzy with lust and young muscle. He wanted to flex for everyone, his dick to throb and spurt and explode inside vanquished mouth after vanquished mouth, his long thick shaft gliding between adoring lips, plunging down dozens of supplicant throats, gagging them all with his cock girth and his cum, gagging the world with his giant man meat as he flexed mountainous biceps. He wanted to cover the faces of hundreds of men with his cum. Coating them all. Then fucking butt. Fucking hundreds of butts while he flexed. This was his planet. That is what he wanted. He never realized it before. But he did now. The muscle cadets were all over him, stroking him, rubbing him, feeling his muscles, inspecting his veins. Check out these striations, he heard one of them say. Yeah, these veins are thick as pencils. No, thicker. His skin is so thin. Check out these abs, they’re like cinder blocks. No, harder. This okay, Casey? Yeah, it’s okay. Feel me. Touch me. Check out my muscles. Suck my dick. He started to say it. The cadets seemed to anticipate it. The breathing in the room grew heavier. And heavier. And suddenly one of the muscleboys moaned. Ayyyy Ugnnnhhhh…. And then another. Casey closed his eyes and flexed…. Oh Yeah LOOK AT MY MUSCLES DUDES And then another low cry Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! And then he felt it himself. He felt the liquid start…..it was happening… YEAH YEAH YEAH No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t happening. The room was suddenly sharply quiet. He opened his eyes. It had all stopped. The boys had stepped back. No one was touching him. The worship had stopped. “You ready to go, Casey?” Casey was shocked out of his dream. He turned and stood, staring. His massive cock brushed the mirror as he turned. Rod Moster was at the open door, smiling. He wore his sweats, but even they didn’t conceal his 7’- 0” frame, his nearly 400 pounds of super wide muscle. His veiny relaxed biceps rolled out of his sleeves with nearly 25 inches of unflexed power, 30 when flexed. His quad veins were so thick the boys could see them through his sweatpants. And that wasn’t all they could see. The outline of his flaccid cock bulged lazily down his right leg, extending almost to his knees. The boys stared. “Who is that??” “He’s like a fucking god,” said Owenbee. Banks stepped forward, his eyes now half closed, a small smile on his face. “Sergeant Moster,” said Banks politely. “Greetings.” He saluted crisply, smiled. The muscle cadets stared at the giant, handsome black bodybuilder. “Shit,” said Ogden, “no one is that big.” “He is,” said Rowenstein. “Thank you, Cadet. You’re Banks?” “Yes, sir. Aye, aye, sir.” “Am I interrupting something?” “We’re just saying goodbye, sir,” said Banks, relaxed, crisp and smooth and confident. Casey smiled weakly. “Yeah.” “Put some clothes on, Casey.” Silence in the room. Casey looked down and realized he was naked and that his huge member was poling straight out and up what seemed to be 2 feet or more, as if ready to shoot. Precum was dribbling down the long, thick shaft and onto the floor. And he looked around his room, and saw all the tented, bulging flies of all the teen muscle cadets, their pants increasing with stain, their cocks now receding. Every one of them. Except Banks. His cock still poled out straight ahead in his pants, but his fly was dry, bulging with unleashed power. He'd been able to control himself. And Banks was not embarrassed. Moster took note silently. Hmmm. “Bye, Casey. Maybe we’ll see you at the compound? If Sergeant Moster will allow us in?” Owenbee was hopeful. Moster frowned. “We’ll see,” he said, non-committal. “Um. Yeah. Okay. Bye, guys.” Casey bent and grabbed his clothes, beet red, mortified. Was this the way to show himself on the most important morning of his life? Naked and flexing and about to shoot and filled with fantasies and dreams? And, it might be added – late??? Late for a military CO? He wasn’t even IN the military, and he felt completely humiliated. He struggled for his baggies, reached for his shoes, looked around in vain for at least one of his oversized jocks. And he hadn’t even packed up his laptop or his prized personal collection of vintage muscle magazines yet. “I’m really sorry, sir,” he blurted, moving clumsily around the room as the teens scrambled to step clear of the confused young bull. “I guess I’m not ready to go.” “You do want to move up the mountain to the main compound?” “Oh, yes, sir!” “Well, then, get yourself ready to go. I won’t wait for you long. I’ll be downstairs in the van. Take a few minutes, and get yourself together. I'll wait five minutes. After that, if you want to move up the mountain, you're going to have to walk.” He smiled, suddenly surprisingly kind. He looked around the room of awestruck boys, and smiled. “And if all you cadets keep training hard, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you all up at the compound sometime soon.” He looked pointedly at Banks. “Especially you.” “Turn around.” Banks complied, turning around. Moster gazed, eyes half-lidded, at Banks’ impressively shaped glutes, nicely packed inside tight pants. “Yes. Keep doing those squats, boy. Good flanks.” His fingers twitched a little. There would be a nice session of spanking this smart-mouthed handsome muscle boy’s hard little muscle bottom sometime in the very near future. He'd wake him up. Banks’ eyes twinkled. He knew what Moster was thinking about. It was okay with him. "I'll look forward to meeting you again, sir." They shared a quick look of understanding. Moster smiled slightly, an eyebrow cocked. Then he nodded briefly to the others. “At ease, men.” And then he was gone. The boys were still a moment, listening to Moster’s steps retreating down the corridor. The distant outer door opened and closed. A moment of awed silence. Then the boys scrambled back to life. “Jesus!” “He’s HUGE.” “Guys! I gotta bounce!” Boytown muscle chaos as the cadets dove around the room, gathering Casey’s bags and toiletries and clothes and laptop, throwing everything in a heap. “Get my muscle magazines!” “Where are they?” Rowenstein asked, looking a little frantic. “The closet. There’s a box. Four boxes. I need them!” The boys scoured the room, gathering their hero’s possessions. “We got your back, Case,” said Banks, smiling. Casey stopped a moment and looked into Banks’ eyes. Then he smiled. “I know you do, dude. I know.” ****** NEXT CHAPTER: "The Twenty" Chapter 15 - Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster

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.

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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.

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 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 Precis: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable need to receive muscle worship. Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his growing need to receive both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential. Chapter 19: Further Encounters, Part 1 February 10th, 2022 2050 Hours Sam moved quickly along the corridor. Only a few minutes before, The Twenty had walked this way. Probably still marching in single file, too. He paused for a moment. Which way? He strained to hear something. Beneath him the low rumbling of the compound generators churned the stillness the night. No other sound. To his left was a men’s room. He went in. It was vast and cold and institutional, but strangely it featured - or perhaps it was not so strange - a 20' wall of floor to ceiling, full length mirrors. He gazed at his reflection. “You need a shave, pretty boy,” he said to himself, rubbing his day old stubble. He grinned at himself. Sam Victor was an uncommonly handsome young man. His easy masculinity was accented by his graceful, lean swimmer’s physique. Stripped naked, he was all sinew, abs, tendons, and light, lean muscle. On the street he was used to turning heads, and when he visited his sister in LA a year ago everyone he encountered thought he was a young television star whose name they just couldn’t place. He enjoyed watching them stammer and pretend they recognized him. A trained athlete and all flexibility and power himself, Sam knew full well where his urges led him. He didn’t care, really. Neither did anyone else. A few years back, just 16 and an Annapolis cadet, Sam had learned that what he liked to do just about better than anything on earth was destined both to make him devoted new friends, and at the same time, just might advance his career in the Navy. Sam liked to suck cock. No, he loved to suck cock. He loved the feeling of a man’s erect penis plunging and exploding in his mouth. And he was spectacularly good at sucking cock, too. I’m just a cocksucking pig, he thought with a self-satisfied smile. And he had no compunction about using his dazzling good looks and slightly self-effacing charm to go about getting what he wanted. What he needed, that is. At first furtive and choosy about his partners in the dorm rooms back in his campus days, the word quietly spread that the winning young Junior Varsity swim team captain was unusually talented. Far from creating poisonous issues or problems, his fellow cadets were are first curious, then appreciative, then driven to frenzy when experiencing Sam’s delicately pouting young lips sliding down the poles of their burgeoning manhood for the first time. After swim practice, he could regularly plan on an hour or more of a selection of the Academy’s largest and finest young chlorine-soaked penises plunging powerfully down his throat. Sam’s square young jaw became as strong as his swimmer’s stroke. He could suck steadily and powerfully for hours, and had been known on a number of occasions to steadily service a roomful of 30 of the dorm’s biggest, eagerest cocks for hours into the night. Oddly, it never interfered with his studies. In fact, it helped him to focus. He dreamed at his own reflection. There before him just minutes ago he had been confronted with 20 of the largest cocks he had ever seen in his life, all lined up in a row. And then, there was Casey’s dick. Now there, there, there was a penis one could really get down with. This was a man’s penis. Sam’s mouth watered. In his uniform officer slacks his beautiful blond tool was still rigid with keen and specific intention. He closed his eyes. He envisioned himself working the line-up of those 20 musclemen, moving slowly down the line as he sampled the goods, taking each new man’s heavy penis into his mouth and sucking him languorously to full throated climax – and then moving on to the next. He’d save Casey for last. ***** The officers and Admiral Walrus were gathered at a large conference table in Zaftig’s spacious outer office. The door was closed. “You’re saying, gentlemen,” Zaftig said evenly, “that the United States Government has no investment interest in Project Herculaneum? A revolutionary anti-terrorist program? You astonish me.” Admiral Walrus had regained his composure. He smiled slightly, as if at a private joke. “We don’t see the effectiveness of this project. It’s expensive, time-consuming, a waste of personnel and resources, and, I might add, not just a little weird. To say nothing of the scientific bullshit of it all. Genetic encoding as secret weapon development is the stuff of speculation.” His smile grew a little conciliatory, but his eyes remained hard. “The Pentagon has felt enough public flak about taxpayer cost to know when to back off on initiatives that are both speculative and dubious at best.” “So you’re recommending shutting us down.” “That is my plan.” “Do you concur, Dr. Shaft?” “Well –“ Shaft paused. “Oh, don’t worry, Milton, we’re not closing the doors. Not just yet. You can still come for your monthly personal inspection. The men are always glad to see you.” “We don’t see how we can go anymore with this,” said General Needling. Admiral Walrus shot a look at 1-star Needling. Needling remained still and serene, but said no more. Behind him, Needling’s aide turned beet red and looked down into his lap. “Are these men your personal lab rats?” demanded Walrus. “These men are warriors. They’d do any army proud. They’re skilled in extreme fighting. They can withstand any climate. They follow orders without question.” And they cum three quarts a week, thought Dr. Shaft. Wonder what they'd make of that? “I suspect they’re dumb as rocks.” Walrus said, finishing up. He got to his feet. “We’re done here.” “Not so fast, Admiral." "What else can be said, Zaftig? You've wasted my time. Our time." "I have something to say. You can sit a moment while your cars are called. Can't you?" Zaftig was still serenely confident, as if talking to particularly slow children. "Dr. Shaft?" he added. "I know you don't want to leave. You see the value of the project. Don't you?" Dr. Shaft nodded dumbly. The chiefs sat. Walrus waited impatiently. "Well?" "I didn’t think you’d be willing to see the fighting value of The Twenty," began Zaftig. "As I have said, this project is privately funded. We can keep our doors open for some time to come. In Pentagon terms, of course, our budget is miniscule. Operating costs are about $20 million a year.” “One million per man,” said General Wampum. “Yes, General Wampum, one million per man. At current funding levels, we can stay operative for the next ten years. Our staff is relatively small: the tech security guys you saw along the way, the office staff, admins, medical, reception.” “What about perimeter security?” Zaftig smiled. “Gentlemen, you saw the specimens. The Twenty act as their own security team. No more is needed. Heaven help the Watergate burglar – or burglars - who try to crash our gates. The Twenty would ball them up into scrap paper and shoot baskets.” He turned to Dr. Shaft. “Isn’t that right, doctor?” Shaft nodded weakly. He remembered a punch he had received from Abdul when his fingers strayed too low and without invitation. He was in bed for a week, his jaw wired closed for three months. “So what is it you want?” Walrus demanded to know. “Give me five more minutes, gentlemen, and then I think we’re all ready to retire for the evening. I’ll let you sleep on it. In fact, take a week. Take two.” He leaned in. “Here’s the beauty part of the Twenty.” And the officers listened. ********** Sergeant Rod Moster lay back on his bed in his private quarters, his powerful hands cupped behind his head. He reviewed what had just happened a half-hour before. From what he could see, the first unveiling of Project Herculaneum had been a disaster. The men from the Pentagon were awestruck, yes, but confused, and the brass was dismayed. No doubt basic homophobia triggered. Responses they couldn’t calibrate or predict or understand. Most of them had cum in their trousers, too, at the easy show of strength he’d demonstrated, which couldn’t bode well for the future of the Project. Military men of this rank didn’t acknowledge weakness, and the recognition of probable gayness was probably particularly troubling. He was sure they were all confronting Zaftig with their displeasure in his private office just about now. Zaftig, Moster knew, would be serene and untroubled. He believed in the Project. And he’d probably disclose to them what it was all for. Exactly where it was headed. The moron. He’d fuck the whole thing up. Moster was sure of that. Which was just exactly what he wanted. He stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. This was his moment. He had his own plans. Dr. Shaft was his own personal tool. He’d get what he wanted, what was best for the men, and for himself in particular. It was all going just fine. He felt pretty good. He glanced at his watch. 10:30. Hmmm. Speaking of tool……he hadn’t jacked off for the day yet. A few hours behind schedule. Better get to it. He stood up, slipped out of his t-shirt, unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants to his ankles. His quads bloomed with fierce power. God, he was ripped. He stepped in front of his three-paneled mirror and gazed at himself appreciatively, his hands at his side. My God, I am fucking awesome, he thought, entirely satisfied with what he was seeing. He especially liked the view with his pants down around his ankles. When a bodybuilder pulls his pants down, it’s not just because he wants to show his legs. He wants to show his cock, too. And his was a fearsome machine, barely sheathed in the spandex poser, the sidestraps straining, the string in the back completely exposing granite buttcheeks of extraordinary shape and power. His black physique gleamed with superhuman strength and power. He popped his right pec, then the left, then the right again, in a little dance of muscle joy. He flexed his biceps, two black volleyballs of burgeoning power topped with baseball-hard peaks. He ran the fingers of his left hand down the cables of heavy, thick veins that crisscrossed his right forearm. Not bad. Pretty fucking good, in fact. In fact, the best in the world. No one had muscles like he did. Perfect. He was perfect. He tucked his fists into his abdominal obliques and slowly expanded into a full front lat spread, watching himself appreciatively as he fanned out into full Cinemascope size. Good work. Then he gazed down at his heavy quadriceps, and began to weave the right one back and forth. The mass swayed powerfully, heavily, lazily, right and left, until, Bam! He hardened it into solid ripped muscle. The veins bulged. Each muscle fiber stood out, powerfully feathered. The muscles gleamed. “Nice wheels,” he murmured to himself. He had to admit it. He chuckled softly. His poser, already groaning with the heavy weight of his dick and balls, began to pole outward. His muscles always made him hard – even now, he knew that he was no better than his men, always ready to shoot at the sight of his own muscles. He was ready to grab that pole of his and pump away. He liked to pump his dick while watching himself flex and bloom with huge muscle. He started to slip out of the trunks. His cock popped forth. “Boom,” he said. Time to play. There was a soft knock at the door. He wasn’t expecting any of the men tonight. He paused, the posers taut around his quads, his still flaccid 14-inch penis bobbing heavily outward now, ready for the strong manipulation of his pleasing fingers, ready to expand to its full angry 20 inches. “Who’s there?” he commanded. “It’s us, Sergeant Moster,” called out a timid voice from outside. “Cadets Banks and Taylor, sir.” What the fuck. “What do you want, Cadets?” Moster demanded through the door. “Sir, permission to speak with you a moment,” came a muffled second voice. Moster angrily jerked his posers back up and stuffed his protesting cock back into the pouch. He squatted deeply for a moment, making sure his balls were adequately covered. Then he smiled a little, and slightly pulled down the tops of trunks. The curve of the Spandex hem dipped so that the top 6 inches of his vein-pulsing erect shaft was exposed. Then he reflected. Hmmm. This could be fun after all. That cadet Banks needed some butt discipline, as he recalled. He glanced at his burgeoning manhood in the mirror for a moment. He grabbed a large bath towel and draped it around his iron-forged 29” waist. He took a last glance. Somewhat hidden. But poling outward. Good. Satisfied, Moster crossed the room and opened the door. He stared sternly at two younger cadets. On the threshold of the corridor outside, handsome young Muscle Cadets Brian Banks and Danny Taylor stood respectfully at ease. They were wearing the tight, pale green Valhalla labs t-shirt, the slightly snug regulation khakis and army boots. The two lean young musclemen were just 17, and though their training was going well, they had not yet entered into the ranks of The Twenty. Both trembled slightly at the sudden sight of a mountain of huge black ripped and ready muscle in front of them. But this is what they came for. Each cadet weighed about 198 pounds. Strapping, black-haired Brian Banks, with his greaser’s sideburns trimmed to the bare standard of military propriety, was naturally hairy and overly tattooed. He also smoked. These were things of which Moster definitely did not approve – any covering of muscle was a sin to him, and smoking anathema – and Banks had only been permitted into the program based upon his superb symmetry, round muscle bellies, natural leanness, and firm little butt. In his favor, he had become concerned about his tats, once a source of much pride, and as a result he was usually heavily covered in sweatsuit baggies all through the punishing workouts he was propelling himself through. He kept his body shaved as closely and as often as he could, but it wasn’t enough to stop the black stubbles of body hair from sprouting anew all over his thick chest and washboard abs by the end of every evening. If he missed a day shaving, by night of the second day he was covered once again with short, black, soft fur. Even so, the hair wasn’t enough to cover the rippling, hard-trained muscles. He smoked whenever he could, usually alone. Moster knew this. He knew everything about these men. He made sure of that. Banks was unusually good looking, and looking unusually good. While no huge bodybuilder, he was big, ripped, muscular, masculine, vascular, and packing some power in his khakis. He had been making nice progress. He also clearly hadn’t shaved his body for a few days. Moster could see a thick crop of black curly chest hair poking over the top of his crew neck collar. But not enough hair to obscure his deep pec cleavage. Prettty good. Taylor, no less disciplined, and looking no less than his buddy Banks, was all the same a different story. Lifting from the age of 14 and yet a rich boy by birth, the surfer-blond bland California pretty boy Taylor had rebelled against his Santa Barbara-entrenched mom and dad, who were shocked by their son’s growing muscles, having foreseen a very different life for him. By the time he was inducted into The Program, he had been living woefully in his car for almost six months on a street behind Raw Weight Gym in the heart of San Jose, 30 miles south. He lived only for training. Sometimes he hustled when he had to. Zaftig had come looking for him on a tip from the gym manager Miles Donovan, always on the payroll looking out for new talent. Superheavyweight Taylor, he told Zaftig, sports serious quads for one so young, and has impressively hard, round gluteus muscles, which he pumps endlessly at the end of his punishing leg workouts. Donovan ended his report with an observation that the dreamy-eyed muscleboy appeared to be trying to find something, feel something new, as he went through his deep squat routines. Zaftig had him off the streets and in the program within 24 hours. In no time the two young cadets had befriended one another. They trained together, showered together, and often were seen having lunch together privately in the cafeteria, respectfully apart from the other cadets. It was generally known that there were many after-hours visits as well. And though it was generally not known, on a few occasions, they had even been permitted to join their heroes, Alvarez and Lang, in their late night pose-and-approve sessions. “What is it, cadets?” Moster demanded. He towered over them. They glanced at one another nervously. Banks, far brighter than the dim, uncertain Taylor, spoke. “Sir, we’re friends with Casey Rockland, sir, and we were….uh….” “Yes?” “Sir, we heard in the barracks you might have been a little upset by this evening’s presentation, sir, and we wanted to come by to pay our respects. And express our belief and dedication in the project. Sir. For. In.” He paused, confused. “Yeah. That’s it,” added Tayler. “Do I look upset?” He whipped the towel away. The cadets each glanced down involuntarily and took in Sergeant Moster’s hugely protruding erection, poling out stiff and heavy and now less than a quarter covered by the straining poser Spandex. They stared. Taylor gulped. “God-damn!” he breathed, taking an involuntary step forward. “It’s even bigger than you said!” Banks nudged him hard. Taylor stepped back. “No, sir, you do not look upset, sir.” Banks’ eyes flickered down again timidly at Moster’s manmeat for an instant, and he spoke again, lifting his eyes and staring steadily with respectful determination into his CO’s eyes. “In fact, I would say you appear to be very relaxed, sir.” “Relaxed?” Moster let out a huge laugh. “You call this relaxed?” he asked mockingly, one hand sweeping wide presentationally before his heavy stiff penis. He shifted his weight onto one knee, leaned on the doorframe, and placed a fist on his hip, tilting his body powerfully. He rotated his lower body in a small semi-circle, and the throbbing 20-inch cock waggled pendulously from side to side inside his sagging posers. “Well, no sir, not really….” Banks stared hungrily at the pumping veins of Moster’s exposed cock shaft, dipping powerfully into the translucent Spandex. “What would you two boys say this looks like?” “Sir, it looks as if you have an uncommonly large hard-on, sir.” “It’s quite a woody, sir.” Taylor finally managed to get out. “Yes, it is. I was just about to get to work on it when you boys both come back banging on my door after hours and prevented me from doing so.” “Sir, we’re sorry, sir. Shall we go, sir?” Moster leaned on the doorframe, considering a moment. He raised a finger and twirled it. “Turn around,” he commanded. The cadets glanced at one another, and both turned clockwise. Moster looked them over appraisingly. Hmmmm. Two fine young butts. As if both boys could read Moster’s thoughts, both Taylor and Banks arched their backs slightly and pushed their inviting round blue-jeanned rears out an inch or two, as if pleading. Please. Fuck our butts. Or so it seemed. It was an appealing sight. And tonight, Banks also knew that Sergeant Moster’s massive, calloused palm would be itching. Ready to apply some special, deserved punishment to their aching bottoms. Moster reached out and grabbed Banks by the shoulders, who lost his balance and stumbled backward into the room. “Get in here, both of you,” he commanded. He hauled Taylor into the room as well and slammed the door. He turned to them, noting they were now trembling with fear and excitement. “Now suppose you tell me why you’re really here.” ********* I’m going to suck those musclemen’s cocks like there’s no tomorrow, Sam thought dreamily. I’ll give them all something they’ll never forget… Then he remembered the left hook comment. Suddenly his jaw ached from an imagined shattering punch of retribution from a stern Casey. “And there might be no tomorrow,” he acknowledged to himself, shuddering with a little giddy fear. He’d weather two black eyes and a broken jaw – and his jaw wired shut and no cocksucking for months - for a chance to get his lips wrapped around that monster, even if only for a moment. Well, for maybe more than just a moment. Maybe longer. An hour? And Casey had stared back at him. Suddenly Sam understood it. My God, thought Sam. No one has had him yet. This boy’s cherry. He couldn’t believe it, but it must be true. And what’s more, he believed that Casey had figured out in his dim brain just what Sam knew. That look had been too telltale. Casey massive organ had never yet been sucked, nor found a home in a delightfully yielding butt. And a good man’s mouth and warm, enveloping butthole were just what this musclepup needed. Sam, of course, was just the ticket. If he was no longer choosy about whose cock he sucked, and where, or when – he had sucked off a whole motorcycle gang in a dank bar just last month, and walked out calmly when they started to fight over who was next – he was very particular about the cock that entered his butthole. He was no cherry himself, to be sure, but in his 22 years he’d only allowed five men to fuck him. No, six. Seven? Nine? Fourteen? Okay, so he couldn’t remember. Years back he’d lost count of how many cocks he’d sucked. 700? 1,523? Probably more. Sam just couldn’t get enough of a good thing. But if he’d give it up for life for that one stupendously big cock. Casey Rockland. Man. What a god this kid was. And – 20? He walked over to the urinal, unzipped, and pulled out his own dick. He pissed thick ropes, inspecting his own golden machine. Not huge. Just big. Only about 8 inches at full attention. True, bigger than most. But – beautiful? Beautiful was not even the word. Sam’s dick was perfect. It was a work of art. And he was choosy here, too, about who got to suck his gorgeous tool. So far he’d only allowed six men the privilege. Fourteen? Okay, maybe more. He shook the last dribbles of piss from his magnificent cock and tucked it back into his pants. He zipped up. It bloomed nicely in the fly and folded alluringly in the folds of his slacks. Hmmm. Eight inches? Not tonight. More like nine and a half. He turned and walked to the door, and in his pants, his bulge swaying confidently in his trousers in happy anticipation. He was a man on a mission. What’s more, he was even under orders. Sweet. It was all so sweet. He pushed the door open and returned to the corridor. Casey was standing outside, just 10 feet away. Clearly, he was waiting for the Ensign. He shuffled his feet, looked uncertain. The two men stared at each other. A moment passed. “Um. Hi,” Casey said shyly. "Hello," said Sam, completely confident. This was going to be fun. "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2

Most recent chapter: Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped Chapter 15: Casey’s First Interview with Sergeant Moster In the main building, Gunst, dressed in regulation baggies and sweatshirt, was waiting for Casey and Moster with a set of keys. As directed. “Good morning, private,” said Moster. “Good morning, sir.” “Hey,” Gunst said to Casey, a little cool. “Hi,” said Casey. Right away he was intimidated by Gunst’s size. “Got everything?” Gunst asked him. “Wha-….yeah. I got everything.” “Take him to his quarters,” said Moster. “Casey, come to my office after you’ve moved in. 3:30. I want a few minutes with you before you meet the men this afternoon. My office is over there. Red door. I’ll see you then. And don’t be late.” He strode away, without waiting for an answer. “Yes, sir,” said Casey meekly, watching him go. Gunst gave him a hard smile. “Let’s go, then. To your new home.” He turned and walked to the end of the main hall. Casey stared, hypnotized by his thick traps, his broad batwing lat spread as he strode away, and then coming back to himself, hurried to catch up. Gunst led Casey down several long corridors. They turned right, turned left, passed about 10 doors, turned right again. Casey began to worry that he was going to get lost in this huge place. Then Gunst stopped. He unlocked a door. “Welcome. Your quarters. Enter and sign in.” He held the door open for Casey, who hesitated. “No, after you.” “Okay.” Gunst went in, and Casey followed him, his heart beating wildly. His new room was a single. Though it was not the first time in his life he’d had a room to himself, this one was big, and it was all his. The ceilings must have been 12'. All the ceilings in the Home were that high. But this was different. He was speechless. There was a main living room with two deep comfortable sofas, a wall of full-length mirrors, a large posing dais with lights, a big dinner table, a desk and four deep, cushy chairs. There was an entirely serviceable open kitchen, a broad glass door to an outside enclosed private terrace, a sizeable bedroom, and big bathroom with an extra-large shower with about 100 different nozzles and spigots, and what looked like an second, somewhat squat toilet. That, he couldn’t quite figure out. “What’s that?” he asked Gunst, pointing to it. “Your bidet.” “My wha-?.....” “Cleans your butt. You’ll need it.” “I keep clean.” Casey was offended. Did they think he was an animal? “Trust me.” The bed was a super king, broad and deep, with a mirrored ceiling so he could see his muscles as he woke up in the morning. The bright terrace continued outside the bedroom with a second entrance, and was open to the sky. The rooms were filled with light, but there was no view. No one would have been able to see in. Casey was a little disappointed. He’d hoped he could see down the mountain, and maybe even the Pacific roiling in the distance. In the corner opposite the terrace door stood the 6 8’-0” 3-paneled mirrors, in front of the dais. Overhead, spotlights were aimed at the dais. In front was a brand new video camera on a tripod. Casey regarded it a moment. “Wow. A camera.” “Yeah. We all get em. Record your progress. Tape your posing.” “This is no bullshit,” Casey breathed, stunned. “No, no bullshit. They’re serious. It’s all about muscle and getting bigger. Hop on, sport,” said Gunst., indicating the dais. He switched on the overhead lights. Cool spots of filtered white-rendered LED light shone from above. Casey stepped onto the dais and gazed at himself in the center pane of the mirror. In his reflection, his t shirt clung sweatily, his superhuman muscles rippling powerfully. He was transfixed at his reflection. “Wow,” he said, whistling. “Ain’t you seen yourself before?” “Not like this.” “Well, you’re big, dude. Real big. Big and hard. Zaftig and Moster got special plans for you.” He paused a moment while Rockland raised his arms and slowly flexed a front double biceps into the mirror. Shit, thought Gunst. His arms look bigger n’ mine. Fuck. His eyes drifted down to Casey’s perfect bubble butt, covered by his grey baggies. A deep butt crack pulled the loose fabric tightly into the shadows of his ass. “Awesome glutes.” “Thanks, man.” Casey now at work, working his way through his mandatories. He glided from pose to pose with ease. Gunst half-smiled, and took a step towards the door. He’s just a kid, he thought. A superhuman huge kid made of muscle, yeah, but just a kid. “You know how to work the camera?” “No,” said Casey, admitting it, humiliated as he always was at being so dumb. Gosh, I’m dumb, he thought. “It’s easy. Come down here.” Casey stepped off the platform and moved close to Gunst. As always he was intimidated, standing next to muscle bigger than his, but he said nothing. Gunst felt the heat wafting off the kid but studiously ignored it. He showed Casey the video cam. “Switch on here. Battery will always be charged. They’ll do that for you. Open the LED screen like this.” Gunst pushed a button and the screen flipped open, a little blue wall with menu items printed. “Then push this.” He pushed another button and the red blinking light and the REC menu appeared in the window. “Awesome.” “You following this?” “Yeah.” Actually, he was. After all, this was how he was going to record his own muscle. Of course he was following. “It’s aimed and focused to the dais and set for the proper lights. Switch off the room lights when you use it for best res.” “Okay.” “Got it?” “Yeah.” Gunst doubted it. “Okay, man, I’m gonna split now. You settle in. Be in the gym and ready to work at 1600 hours.” “Okay.” Casey studied the camera and then thoughtfully stepped back on the dais without switching it on. “That’s 4 PM.” “Okay.” “It’s noon. You got four hours before training and three and a half before you meet Sergeant Moster for debriefing in his office. Remember where his office is?" "Yeah." He didn't. Gunst smirked a little. "Go out the door, turn left, head to the main corridor, turn left again. Walk to the bulletin board past the cafeteria entrance. Turn right. Red door." "Okay." Casey was looking at himself in the mirrors. He wanted to pose some more. He thoughtfully flexed a powerful forearm, inspecting cables of veins. Gunst gave up. After all, it was his ass. "Eat and get some rest. Check out your refrigerator. They prepared some meals for you. Have a couple of steaks and a few chickens.” “Okay,” said Casey, already dreamily posing for himself. He hit another double bi. He was headed back to his distant mountain on his private planet. Gunst watched Casey as he hypnotically posed. Damn, the kid looked good. Casey slipped out of his shirt and threw it on the floor and hit a crab shot. Gunst, impressed in spite of himself, shook his head, and headed for the door. “Don’t wear yourself out, dude. Four hours. Three and a half, really.” “Okay.” "Take a shower. You stink." "Okay." Gunst started out. “Can I ask you a question?” Casey asked shyly, stopping his posing a moment. “What?” “How much you weigh?” Gunst smiled, hard faced. “375,” he said. “Shit, man.” “Yeah. You?” “310.” “So I’m bigger.” “Yeah,” said Casey. Gunst turned to go. “For now,” Casey added. Gunst looked back at him and grunted noncommittally. He left the room, closing the door, leaving Casey alone to ponder the wonders of his own physique. “Damn,” he breathed quietly to himself. That dude is huge. But then again, Casey hadn’t entirely realized that he looked this good. Good, yes. But not THIS good. As Gunst walked back up the corridor to his own room he felt a sudden impulse to run off to the gym again and spend the next hour doing punishing curls. For now?? The little asswipe actually had the balls to say this to him? But he knew it was true. It was just for now. This kid could surpass everyone. Including Moster. P21 may have been a miracle drug, but muscle recovery was still necessary, and as it was Gunst had spent a good hour just the night before curling hundreds of pounds. But damn. That kid’s biceps were sick. Sick. Unreal. He had to get his bigger. Bigger, harder, more vascular. He had to dwarf the kid’s arms when, on some inevitable future date when Moster lined them up next to each other barked out FRONT DOUBLE BICEPS to both of them, Gunst could raise his arms to the almighty skies and curl up a walloping huge double bi’s that would force the musclepuppy Casey into a shameful corner. But he knew that wouldn’t happen. Casey was just too big, too hard, too perfect – and only 18. Shit. Damn. Fuck. Gunst went to his room and stretched out on his bed, suddenly depressed. A few minutes later he got up and ate six chicken breasts. And then lay down again, resting, willing his arms to recover, to get bigger. Shit. Damn. Fuck. After about 10 minutes of posing, Casey, innocent of the turmoil he was already causing in the quad, felt both hungry and thirsty. He stepped off the platform, gave a last look at himself in the mirror, and did a side chest. Pop. Pow. Yeah. He wandered into his kitchenette. A surprisingly good-sized, double door industrial grade refrigerator (stainless steel, reflecting, naturally, so he could see himself) was center in the wall. He opened it up and was surprised to see three 5-gallon water bottles, shelves of Tupperware containers filled with cooked, cold bloody rare steaks and cooked chicken breasts, some prepared salads and tuna salad. He grabbed a whole steak and gobbled it in three bites, then drank a full quart of water. He opened the vegetable drawer. Unlike other young bodybuilders - stupid assholes - who turned their noses up at vegetables, at anything 'green', Casey craved fresh veggies. The drawer was full, he happily noted. He fished around and found some tomatoes and fresh celery stalks. He popped four whole tomatoes - "Vitamin C!" as Miles would have said - and began gnawing on a stalk. He closed the door and gazed thoughtfully at his reflection in the stainless steel. Miles. He really missed him. He hadn't seen him now for - what? - a year? More? Miles would be so proud of him. Maybe he could get out some time, go to Raw Weight, see Miles, and maybe pose a little with him? He sure hoped so. And....maybe something more, too. He belched softly and headed back into the main room to start unpacking. He raised an arm, sniffed at an armpit. Yeah, he did stink. A shower would come next. A knock came at the door. He answered it, the gallon water bottle still in his hand. It was Private Lang. He was dressed in an-all black skin-tight bicycling suit and was carrying a helmet. He dripped with sweat. “Hey,” said Casey, eyeing Lang evenly. He too was handsome, and he too had a heavy sagging cock bulge in front. Casey guessed they all wore clothing to show themselves off to their best advantage. But why did they all look like male models? Even Gunst, big and broad and homely, looked like he belonged in a magazine. Or on the movie screen. Or on TV. “Hey. Welcome. Listen, haven’t got much time. Moster will be here in a second. Want to warn you about something.” Casey was annoyed and awed for a moment by Lang’s two-day scruff and perfect hair. Damn. Fucking good looking dude. Shit, now what? What did he just say? Something else he had to worry about? “Come on in.” The heavily muscled Lang gazed briefly up and down at the shirtless Casey, lingered his gaze a moment on his bulging crotch, considered a moment, but then said, “No, thanks. Another time. Believe me.” “Sergeant Moster’s not coming. Come on in.” “No. Another time.” “Okay. So what’s up?” “You gotta watch out for Tiffany.” “Don’t I know it.” Lang fumbled in his fanny pack and pulled out a small pill bottle. He handed Casey a white capsule. “Something else, too. Take this before the workout.” Casey played dumb. “What is it? Drugs?” “Naw. Well, yeah. I guess. We all take ‘em. They’re not toxic and they’re not hallucinogens, but it’ll make you feel stronger and more confident, and they free up your…..well, natural inhibitions.” “Haven’t got any.” “Bullshit. You’re scared as hell, even Hension can see it. Hell, if I can see it, then, dude, you’re scared.” “I’m not fucking scared.” “Anxious, then. Nervous. Anyway, you should be.” “Why should I take this? What is this, anyway? You guys all trying to punk me?” “No! Trust me, dude. Take it. By the time the workout is under way you’ll be ready for anything. What do you normally single-arm curl?” “170 pounds.” “Take one and you’ll curl 220. Single arm.” Fuck! Casey grabbed for it, popped it down his mouth, and took a chug of water. Then he grinned. “Thanks! Sure you don’t want to come in a moment? We could pose together.” “Yeah…..I would…..but later. Gotta go.” He looked nervously down the corridor and scooted away. Casey closed the door. He unpacked some muscle magazines, his new jockstraps and do-rag, his iPod and laptop, and started to set up his new video camera on a tripod. He liked to record his posing practices, and with the dais and the mirrors and the new lighting he was already excited. He dropped to the floor and reeled off a fast150 push-ups. He needed to jerk off soon, but was interrupted by another knock at the door. This time it was Waring. He looked like he had just gotten out of the shower, his hair slicked back, his clothes tight and plastered against big muscles. “Whassup, dude?” he asked. “Welcome.” He extended a calloused hand. Casey leaned against the door and crossed giant arms. Another handsome dude. He didn’t shake. He blew out air, looked at him levelly, and just waited. Shit. After all, all these dudes had shot their cum all over him just 12 hours ago. Didn’t they remember? It was kinda weird they all seemed to have either forgotten, or just didn’t care. Or maybe they did it all the time to each other? Whatever. He was here to get big. There was a long pause. “Okay, I guess you’re just settling in and not ready to receive guests. I got something for you anyway. House-warming gift.” He held out a fist, opened it, revealing a capsule. Casey looked it and gazed at him, not taking the bait. “Don’t you want to know what it’s for?” “Lemme guess. My inhibitions? Give me a boost? I can curl 3,000 pounds? Protect me from Tiffany? Make me millions?” “Okay, who was here before me?” “I don’t remember his name. Good-looking guy with black hair. You’re ALL good-looking guys with black hair.” “Some are blond, some ginger, some bald. How old?” “Old. I don’t know. 27?” “Mustache?” “No.” “Bicycle clothes?” “Yeah.” “Lang.” Waring looked around. “Did he give you one already? Did you take it?” “Yes, and yes.” “Good.” He held out the capsule. “Keep it. Take it anyway. I took two once,” he added, and smiled to remember a particularly hot ‘Pose and Approve’ session with both Alvarez and Lang, after which, unfortunately, he was not invited to return. Not yet, anyway. “Sure you don’t want to come in?” Casey gestured ironically, but he wouldn’t have minded. A little double-posing practice would be a good workout. But once again, all he got was the once-over. Waring paused a little and grinned, his face turning pink, but shook his head. “No, I gotta run. Bye.” And he loped off down the corridor. Casey closed the door. Whatever. All these dudes were weird, muscle or no. He took the second White Caps, flexed a few more minutes in front of the mirror, waited for something to happen. Nothing. Suddenly he was tired, so he decided to grab a nap. He went to his room, kicked off his boots, tore off his sweatpants and jock, and sprawled naked onto the huge bed. He was instantly asleep, dreaming vaguely of his muscle planet. When he woke up, the light in the room had changed, but he didn’t notice it. All he could think of was his dick, hugely and almost painfully hard. He was ready to go, now. The caps? Maybe. He masturbated on his bed, formally initiating himself to his room. He watched his reflection in the ceiling mirror as he pumped his big shaft. Within 30 seconds he came, his cum spurting high and splashing the glass of the mirrored ceiling and plopping down onto the sheets, staining them deeply with pools of cum. “Shit,” he said. He got up went into the bathroom and closed the door. He shat heavily and pissed about 2 gallons with heavy ropes of piss splashing into the toilet. He stared suspiciously at the bidet, and then at the shower. There were the seemingly dozens of jets and spigots and controls, but after a few minutes of carefully testing, he got it to work. He showered for about 10 minutes, washing himself off carefully, loving the jets of steaming hot water that hit every angle of his physique. He stepped out and grabbed a huge towel off the rack. It was warm to the touch, as if it had just been taken out of the drier. Damn, it felt good. He draped it around himself and went back into his room. His sheets had been changed. The ceiling mirror was clean. Fuck. Who the hell had been in here while he was in the shower??? And his workout clothes were laid out on the bed. Oh well. Guess he had invisible maids, too. He changed, and went to the kitchenette to get a bite of chicken and another jug of water. On the counter there was a note: I let myself in. Hope u don’t mind. Take this pill. It will help. C U later in the gym. --- Hension Next to the note was another capsule. What the hell? He took it. He looked at his watch. 3:40 PM. “Shit! Shit!” he shouted. Late again! He tumbled into his sweatshirt, and ran off to meet Moster in his office. ******** 15 minutes later, Casey stood at attention in front of Sergeant Moster’s desk. “Well, Cadet,” said Moster. “Late again. Very late. At ease. Let’s talk awhile. Have a seat.” He gestured to a flat bench used for bench presses. Casey dutifully lowered his bulk onto the bench and leaned forward anxiously, resting his elbows on his thighs. Sweat rolled down his torso. He wiped his eyes and stared ahead of him. He wasn’t going to get punished for being so late? He had run all the way from his quarters to the office and got lost six times. He finally had to ask some Puerto Rican kitchen kid – oh, yeah, the kid who was there last night, sucking all the musclemen’s cocks while he wrestled Abdul – where the hell Moster’s office was. The kid had stared at him hungrily but Casey wasn’t about to get into it. “Down there,” he’d pointed, and Casey ran off. This time he found it. He saw none of the other men. Moster came out from around the desk and approached, looking him over. “Rockland – I mean Casey … - I’m going to get right to it. You show great potential. Big muscles, lots of strength, good flexibility, tall, young, still growing.” “And I got good bones. You and Dr….” He paused. He couldn’t recall the dude’s name. “Dr. Zaftig.” “Yeah, Dr. Zaftig, you both said so last night.” Didn’t Moster remember last night either? Fer crissakes. “Yes, and good bones, yes.” He stood in front of Casey. “Do you have questions?” Casey looked up at the Sergeant plaintively. About a million of them, actually. But he said nothing, and shook his head. His eyes roamed up and down his CO’s massive physique. Moster’s shiny black biceps exploded out of his white t-shirt, with veins thick as snakes, lining the peaks and networks of pumping blood vessels criss-crossing his forearms. His hands, resting lightly on his hips, were enormous, with thick fingers, white, trimmed fingernails and long, powerful thumbs. His neck was impossibly huge, and his traps sloped powerfully into massive deltoids. His lats flared out almost horizontally. Casey had never seen so much muscle. And in his pants, his package drooped casually from his fly down along his right thigh in his uniform trousers. The massive bulge extended nearly to his knee. Casey gulped and licked his lips a little. He could see the mountain of cockhead corona and make out the deep piss slit, even through the thick fabric. Moster’s gaze never left his eyes. “Well, Casey?” “Sergeant Moster, what is this place really about? Why are we here?” “You’ve been on campus two years. You should know. We’re Valhalla Labs.” “Yeah, I know that. But what is it? Really is it?” “Valhalla Labs is a unique training facility. Here we build and train the finest specimens of men on earth.” “But just bodybuilders.” Moster looked down into Casey’s eyes, slightly startled. “Yes, just bodybuilders,” he confirmed. “There are other kinds of men who get built. Gymnasts. Swimmers. Football players.” “Yes.” “So why just bodybuilders?” Moster paused a moment. “Son,” he said, pacing, “don’t you want to be here?” Casey fell all over himself replying. “Oh, yes, sir, I do want to be here, sir, and nowhere else!” “So….is there a problem?” “No, sir, no problem AT ALL. But….why are we here?” And he still didn’t ask, pointedly, about the wrestling and the cum job and all the craziness from the night before. Moster paused again, and spoke in a measured tone. “The Nineteen – and now, with you, The Twenty – are potentially the finest specimens of male musculature on the planet. Most bodybuilders, power lifters, weight lifters, look mighty impressive, but, you know, they have all sorts of internal problems. Bad hearts. Very bad livers and kidneys. Bad skin. Small testicles. High cholesterol. Bad blood pressure. Boils, scars. They smell bad. No endurance. And…..too often….they have very tiny cocks.” Casey had to admit it was true. “But not here. Here we build men who will last. When you, son, reach your 50th birthday, you’ll look much the way you do now. When you reach 70, God willing, you’ll look like a man of 40. Do you know how old I am?” Casey paused a moment. “28?” he ventured. “I’m 48. 49 next month.” “No shit.” “No shit. Let’s see your biceps, son. Remove your sweatshirt.” Casey complied and meekly flexed his guns. He smiled hopefully. “Are they okay?” he asked nervously, flexing, looking from arm to arm, glancing hopefully at the dancing triple peaks of each biceps. “You know they’re better than just ‘okay’. Or you should know. Good God, you’re still reticent?” “Re- ti – what?” “Still shy? Don’t you feel strong, son? Don’t you feel huge and powerful?” “Not next to you, sir.” Moster was touched in spite of himself. “Stand up, son,” he directed, peeling off his shirt and heading over to a broad expanse of mirror. “Come over here and join me.” He bent and began to unlace his boots. Casey got up and trotted over to join Moster at the mirror. Instinct told him it might not be a good idea to tell him just at present that he had recently taken three white caps. So far he hadn’t felt anything unusual. But then, he’d had a long nap, too. Maybe you weren’t supposed to take white caps and then immediately go to sleep. “Kick off those shorts. Your jock, too. Strip down.” Casey did as he was told, pulling his jock down shyly. Moster unbuckled his belt, peeled down his trousers, kicked off his boots and rose, ripping off his t-shirt. His massive muscles bloomed with gigantic power. He was wearing a powerfully knit bright red posing suit underneath his trousers that magnificently displayed his bulging tool. “All our posing suits are privately made. Otherwise, they won’t fit. See?” First he grabbed the side straps and pulled up. The pouch loomed magnificently, full of Moster’s massive penis and balls. He moved from side to side, showing the strength of the suit. “Actually there’s some steel mesh in there. You get used to it.” Then he pulled down the poser from the side straps and, one foot at a time, stepped out of it. His cannon firehose flopped out and down heavily and loudly slapped his quads. “Face the mirror, Cadet,” said Moster. Casey obeyed and turned, and together the two musclemen stood naked in front of the mirror. Wow. Casey knew he had never seen – no, nor imagined – bigger muscles, nor a bigger engine like the one Sergeant Rod Moster was sporting between the walls of each diamond-shaped quad. He stared at it, slack jawed, his mouth dangling open, amazed. From the beautiful muscle jewel-setting that was Moster’s lower rectus abdominus to the ridge of shrink-wrapped muscle from which plunged the massive, thick shaft, Moster’s massive, huge, perfect monster penis was a thing of beauty. A few moments passed, and Casey finally spoke. “You have a very big dick, sir. Begging your pardon.” “Yes, quite the tool, isn’t it?” Moster said expansively, waggling it from side to side. “It might even be the biggest in the world. Anyway, no recorded penis has been found to be bigger.” He looked down appraisingly at Casey’s organ, “Yours appears to be almost as big, I see.” “No, not, really, sir.” “Oh, yes, I think it is. Close, anyway. Let’s see you wave it back and forth. Like this.” He began to whip his penis noisily from side to side. It slapped loudly on his quads. “Go ahead. I know you can do it. I saw you do it for the boys in your room this morning.” Casey was mortified, remembering. “Try it, cadet.” “Okay.” He waved it back and forth timidly. “No, throw some energy into it. Be a man!” Moster continued to slap his cock against his quads. Casey gulped and began to whip his engine a little faster, a little harder…..and suddenly he was surprised to hear slaps as loud as Moster’s coming from his own extremities as his ample cock made contact with his muscular quads. Moster reached down and grabbed Casey’s member in a powerful fist and began to squeeze. Casey was stunned. “Sir!” “Relax, Private. I know you’re a grower. I want a demonstration.” He began to powerfully stroke the penis, and in his grip Casey immediately became erect. “Very nice indeed. 12 inches? More?” “I’m not sure….” “Zaftig sure knows how to find them.” Casey was getting dizzy. A heavy glob of precum appeared from the piss slit, ran over Moster’s fist and dripped onto the floor. “Nice,” said Moster. “Good boy. Have you masturbated yet today?” Casey was mortified. He took a step back and his thick penis popped from Moster’s enveloping fist. Moster let it go. “Yes…..” “How many times?” “Just once.” “Right.” He walked back to his desk, his penis waggling mightily as he walked, and hit a key on his laptop, which dinged. He read a message, looked up and smiled. He returned. “Yes, I see that you did, about 25 minutes ago.” “Wha-a-a-a-a- t?!!?” “The cleaning report came in.” Cleaning report?? Christ, the sheets. They file this stuff? “Are you guys spying on me?” “We’re going to monitor your activity, yes. We do this for all the men.” “Do they know?” “Yes, of course they know. Many of them relish it. The men like to be on cam. Is this going to be a problem for you?” Casey decided to change the subject. “Sir, it embarrasses me. I have to jerk off about 5 or 6 times a day.” “Seems that you’re off schedule then, if you have only masturbated once so far.” “Well, it’s been a weird day.” “Don’t let me stop you.” “I’m not gonna do it now!!!” Casey was getting more and more mortified. What was all this, anyway?? “No, of course not. You still have the societal blockers in place that prevent that. So do the men, actually, in my presence. They wouldn’t do it either while in this office. Of course, at meal times, in the gym, on the track outside, wherever or whenever they feel they have to, they whip out their dicks and go for it. You saw that last night, actually.” Finally. “Last night was really, really weird,” said Casey. “You’ll get used to it.” “I will?” “Yes, and with talent like yours, the men will be very eager for you to start joining them in priapic exercises.” Hunh? “You’ll find out. In time. Meanwhile, you should be very proud. Your penis is one of the finest specimens I have ever seen. And I have seen thousands of the best of the best. Yours is….well…..it rivals mine.” Shit, thought Casey. Really? Sudden he got a little coy. “Gee, and I have always been ashamed of my big dick.” “Really. Why?” “I can’t….hide -… it….” Casey colored deep red and looked down at himself. There it was, looming out from his body, huge and solid. “And why would you want to hide it?” “You hide yours!” Casey blurted. “Or you try to.” “That’s different. I’m in command. And the men all know now about my superior tool. If I showed it all the time, it would lead to all kinds of problems.” Moster bent and pulled up his posers and trousers, carefully wrapping his giant engine securely in the folds of pants fabric. He squatted slightly, reached into the waistband of his slacks, and positioned the shaft so that it lay, lazy and secure, against his right quad. Then he went back to his desk. “Get dressed now. But hang on.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small vial, then walked back to him and leaned in quietly. He spoke low into Casey’s ear, and raised his palm surreptitiously. In his hand was a single white capsule. “Take it,” he said. Not again. He was already feeling – well, not high, exactly, but close. He was dubious – after all, he had already taken three – but what the hell. He pretended innocence, and he made his face appear anxious. “What is it? Drugs? I’ve never done drugs.” “This is pure P21. The drug of choice. Take it.” “Will I be okay?” he asked, wanting to trust him. I hope so, Casey thought. I took three of those little suckers. “You’ll be fine,” assured Moster, and he meant it. “Frankly, yes. It is a drug. It will not hurt you - but it will do something to your perception of yourself. Take it. Now.” “Okay.” Casey nodded dumbly and bolted it down. Inside he was elated, excited, wondering if this new mystery supplement was a new kind of steroid, able to produce great surges of strength and growth. Then he looked up hopefully at Moster, now sitting back at his desk, easy in his chair, his legs wide before him, open to the world. “Meet us in the rec room after your shower for post workout eval.” “Yes, sir,” said Casey. Inadvertently his gaze lowered to the Sergeant’s lap. He stared at the bulge. Wow, he thought again. Damn. “Good. Now get to the gym and get started. Some of the men will be there. You have some serious lifting to do. I’ll join you presently.” He pushed an intercom button. “Dr. Irving?” “Yes?” came the voice on the squawk box. “Get the camera ready and head to the big gym. You'll find everything you need in the locker room. Dr. Irving is there ahead of you. He'll set you up. Get moving now.” “Yes, Sergeant Moster.” "And don't dawdle." He checked his watch. "You're already 20 minutes late. The men were expecting you at 16:00 hours. They don't like to be kept waiting." "Are they all there?" "By now, yes." "They gonna jerk off all over me again?" Moster smiled. "No, not tonight. Frankly, you have them all a little too worried about themselves to pull anything like that again so soon. Besides...." Casey waited for it. "Besides what?" Moster smiled. "Nothing. We talk again after your workout tonight. Then dinner and then bed for you. Get going now." Click click click. Moster was typing. Casey stood still, uncertain. Moster looked up. “I said get going, Casey.” Casey nodded, dumbly wordless. Gee, he types fast, he thought. He pulled on his sweatshirt and scampered out the door. After a moment he was back. “Sergeant Moster?” he asked, shy and frightened. “Yes, Cadet Rockland?” “…um..….which way IS the gym….?” Moster had to smile in spite of himself. He pushed back from the desk and rose. “Okay. We'll go together.” He approached Casey, looked him over with brief approbation, and nodded to himself. This kid was something else. Just what he had been waiting for. Just right for his plans. Just right for the big picture. The picture Zaftig wasn't aware of. Yes, everything was going smoothly. He headed on down the corridor. Casey followed him, submissively scampering a few steps behind. It was going to be his first workout as one of The Twenty. He felt both scared and powerful. And just a little pissed off, as the White Cap began to work on him. Those dudes weren't gonna jerk off on him again, any time soon. He'd see to that. He knew what he had to do. Okay. Time to go train. ********** Want to reread "The Twenty" from the beginning? Click here for "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Precis, Introduction, and Chapters 1 & 2

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!

Aaand part three's here, and things are about to get all messy. Part one: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/4927-growth-powder-part-1/ Part two: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/4995-growth-powder-part-2/ More people finding out the powder is always a good thing - means more growth. Also, different colors? What could all those do? Hope you like it. ///// Max woke up in bed the next morning, feeling his feet laying slightly uncovered. He propped himself up onto his elbows, feeling his bigger arms brush against his lats as he looked at his long feet with a contempt smile. He looked at the thin sheet covering him – he saw how big his limbs were under it, he flexed his legs, his arms, playing with his new enlarged muscle, all the while grinning widely. After a while of flexing and just laying in his bed relaxing, thinking of all the things he could do with the new powder he had now – he uncovered himself and got up. “I gotta buy new briefs.” He said, looking down at the underwear that strained around his waist, stretched by his rapidly expanding butt, waist and other… parts. He got to the shower, and remained there for some time, his muscles weren’t the only thing that grew, he could have sworn he’d grown taller, and definitely – his dick got bigger, all this adoration of his muscles made him horny, so he relieved himself. He was surprised at how much more stamina he had – but he didn’t have much time, so he got out of the shower and got ready for school – he had a big game today, and he was ready for it. He only hoped that the rest of his team was too. On the ride to school, he sat down next to Jim. “Oh my God, man! Look at you.” Jim said, punching him in the arm, smiling. “You’re huge!” Jim looked down, admiring how Max’s large legs filled out his jeans, his ankles visible below the cuffs of his pants, even his shoes looked crammed somehow – he snapped out of it, as Max said: “I know man – I must be, er, hitting a growth sprout.” Max was still debating weather or not to tell Jim about the powder – he really wanted to, but he also wanted to keep it for himself – he was so much bigger now – and he only used so little of it – imagine, imagine what he cou—After a while they arrived at school. Max ate up Jims praise the whole way through, as they talked mostly about him and the upcoming game. They didn’t head straight to class – instead they went to the gym. Max and Jim went in first, they started changing, and just as Nathan and some of the other guys entered the locker room, Max was taking his shirt off. They looked at him, and immediately, it was obvious that something has changed about Max. He looked at them, and smiled. “Sup guys?” “God, Max – what the hell’s happening, man?” Said Nathan as he approached him, slapping him on the back. “Oh – you know, just er, just a growth spr—“ “Wow, I’ve never like, seen anyone make the gains you did, man.” Said Nathan, admiring Max’s progress. “Yeah man, you’re growing like crazy.” Jim added. “Dude, we gotta measure you, update the book and stuff.” Nathan said, motioning to Jim. “Oh – right, the book!” Jim went to his backpack and took out a worn notebook. Inside, he flipped through the pages, and clearly there – were written all the stats of all the boys on the team. Max could see how the previous measurements were crossed out for everyone as they grew over the years, and next to them were written new ones – sometimes bigger, and – sometimes smaller. As Jim flipped to find Max’s entry – Max noticed how Nathan was the one with the most crossed out entries, each time, growing a little bigger, he really put work into himself – but his genes didn’t hurt either, helping him to grow tall, and fast and strong. One of the least crossed out pages was – surprisingly – Jim’s. He couldn’t grow that quickly, no matter how much he tried, but he did try – that was for sure. Then, Jim finally found Max’s entry – he had a decent record, growing steadily over the years – but that was about to change. Jim took out his pen, as Nathan said: “Alright dude, let’s get you to the scale.” Some of the others gathered round, as they changed slowly, talking about the game, some about Max others, totally unrelated things. Max took off his shoes, and stepped onto the school scale – he looked down, seeing his big, long feet rest on the metal underneath, they were longer too – and he kind of liked it. “Alright man – 200 pounds – exactly!” Exclaimed Jim, as he crossed out the 190 pounds and wrote down the new number. “Right – now, lets see the other numbers.” Said Nathan as he took out a measuring tape. “Flex your arm Max.” Max smiled and raised his right arm, he extended it, looking how much bigger it seemed now, even to himself. The thick corded muscle running down the length of his long arm – then – he flexed it, slowly, his bicep bunching up, rising, forming a big ball of muscle, around which Nathan wrapped the tape. A bit slowly, Max noticed, though he shook it off. “Sixteen… point… five. Nice, Max. Right, now the high—“ Nathan started, but then he saw himself looking straight into Max’s eyes – Max had a big, wide smile on his face, as he saw Nathan’s expression change for a second. Nathan felt for a moment, a tinge of fear- seeing someone grow like this, it frightened him slightly, but he also kind of… liked it. “Er… no need to er… measure that. It’s… it’s 6 foot 3.” Jim wanted to say something, but Nathan turned to him, and his expression became bright again as he tapped Max on the shoulder. “Trust me, dude – it’s 6’3’’!” He said and chuckled, then they went back to changing. In anticipation for the game to begin, Max stood, occasionally flexing his leg muscle, or his pecs, just enjoying how it felt – it made him smile, and it made him more confident. He felt stronger, faster than ever, hell he even felt more coordinated somehow. The game begun – and Max proved himself to be right. He ran way faster than he had before, the players on the other team – though good, were totally beaten by him. But the rest of the team, though coordinated, just couldn’t keep up with the other team. They lost. Max was totally devastated. They were good, they knew what they were doing but they… lacked something. They weren’t quick enough it seemed, they weren’t strong enough. It pissed him off. The locker room was relatively quiet, with Jim trying to cheer everyone up, and failing – as they were all pretty grumpy. Max looked at the wall in front of him, deep in thought. “Come on dude – we just gotta like, train more and stuff.” Jim said to Max, then Max nodded. “I think I have a solution.” And he turned around to put on his pants, but saw everyone looking at him. They expected him to say something else. “Er, I’ll uh… I’ll like tell you tomorrow.” They chuckled, and after a while, all went home. Because of the game the coach convinced the teachers to give them a day off, and Max, on his way home was thinking. ‘Like, I know what we need. We were too slow, too weak. I was ok but the rest of the guys… Jim especially. I gotta share the powder with them, I gotta. But… I just don’t want to. Oh my God, I want to grow – oh yeah, like, grow a lot. But – I gotta take it slowly, otherwise it’ll look too weird, suddenly sprouting up and all.’ Then he stopped. ‘Wait – maybe… hm, maybe there is a way.’ He thought as he took his bike and headed for the hills, in his shirt and tight fitting tank top. The sun was hot, but the ride was surprisingly easy. Though, at the end of it, upon reaching the fridge he was breathing heavily. Sweat dripped down his large, ripped body. He looked down at the portable fridge, then at himself. He still liked it a lot. He looked at his heaving chest, rising up and going down with every breath, he flexed his arms, smiling, looking at them as his biceps popped up – round and tough. He liked it so much, he was beginning to get aroused, his hand went down to his pants – but then, he snapped out of it. ‘No. Gotta get a jar of that stuff.’ He said, getting down and opening the fridge. There were four more jars inside. ‘Weird, were there that many when I opened it last time? Eh, whatever.’ He looked in, there were four jars, but they were all in different colors. One was blue, one was purple, one was red and one – like his – green. ‘Weird.’ He contemplated taking a different color, thinking it was probably just different flavor – but then, he decided to stay safe. He took out the green one and opened the lid. He looked inside, and a strange lust took over him. ‘Maybe – maybe I could try just… just a little bit. No – no that’s too much, I’m growing too fast, I have to give the guys time to adjust to my new size. But – they’ll know about it anyway. Well… I suppose…. But – no, still… I can’t…. I have to control, myself.’ His hand reached inside. [unbeknownst to Max – there was someone else that frequently visited those hills. No, they did not know about the fridge, or the jars, but – for the first time, they saw Max, and for the first time they saw something like this. Well, they was actually just Alex, he wanted to come up to Max to say hi, but, he saw him take some jar, and put some green powder into his mouth – so he was a little freaked out. He hid behind a tree – and looked, then his jaw dropped. He saw Max’s whole body move, as he closed the lid on the jar – he saw him put the jar down and grin very widely – then, he saw something else. The tight tank top that hung on Max, drenched in his sweat began seeming… tighter somehow. He heard him chuckle as Max looked down at his own chest. Alex saw Max’s pectoral muscles – it was as if they were… inflating. They grew bigger, fuller, yet they seemed so cut, so strong and tough. The tank top was fighting against Max’s chest, fighting and straining until ‘RIP!’ it ripped at the sides, as he continued to grow, even bigger and bigger – it ripped too, at the sides, Max now laughed loudly, and simply took the top, with his large hand – and tore it off in one smooth motion. Freeing his chest. Alex almost began to drool, as he saw the chiseled six, round muscles of Max’s stomach, his six pack grew deeper and larger – then, he started to have a clear beginning of an eight pack. Alex looked at Max’s arm, holding the torn top – as it too expanded, the flexed forearm grew, sinewy with thick hard muscle. Max flexed his other arm. His bicep grew as well, right in front of his face for at least another half inch – in fact he whole inched up in height, becoming taller. Alex saw Max’s large soccer player’s legs grow. The strong thighs ballooned out, with his butt, growing large and hard. His calves seemed to flex, grow out, bunch up – expand. Then, he saw, as Max’s legs strained his, now too small ,shorts with their large, bulging muscles, something else underneath the thin fabric, on the other side of the full, round bubble but. A clear outline of Max’s manhood, large and still growing bigger. He couldn’t really guess the size, but it sure looked definitely bigger than average. Then – max tossed aside the top, picked the jar up and got on, shirtless, onto his bike, and rode off. As Alex was simply left there, stunned, turned on]

Hey guys, Thanks for bumping up the story, it got me inspired to continue. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Cheers and thanks for your support! A.O.M.G. Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Sire and Son Larry Durham’s passion for weight training started back at 1971 at the early age of 14, when his 16-year-old cousin Freddy got a home-gym equipment and both teenagers spent many afternoon hours working hard to build their physiques like the astounding bodies of Mike Katz, Frank Zane; Dave Draper and, of course, Arnold Schwarzenegger. Fred started out bigger and taller than his younger cousin Larry, but he clearly lacked many of the skills that bodybuilding required such as focus, determination and discipline. Skills that Larry, even at such young age, already displayed and only got him more excited about the sport. Soon, the skinny average looking Larry gained much more precious pounds of rock hard muscle than his older cousin and everybody at school asked him to flex and show off those vigorous youthful teenager muscles. By the time Larry was a freshman at High School, he had totally outgrown Fred’s humble home gym, and since the owner himself had long ago given up on bulking up his physique, Larry joined the local gym and he quickly became one of its resident hardcore member. In addition, he also grew to be one of the biggest guys around, regardless being one of the youngest members. The feeling of having huge, hard, powerful body that girls coveted, while guys both admired and envied was just one of the many aspects that Larry loved about bodybuilding. He actually enjoyed the idea of controlling the development of his own physique above everything, rewarding himself with such vigorous look after so many extenuating hours, not to mention the grueling but necessary rigorous dieting periods. For such reasons, Larry got truly passionate about bodybuilding and changed his young body into a temple of masculine perfection during the following years. At his High School senior year, he was already a two-time junior bodybuilding champion and with the impressive frame of 5’11”, he hit the mark of 225 pounds of hard powerful muscles, with great potential for promising professional career goals in the early future, but life does not always go as planned. Larry lost his father a few weeks before he graduated at high school. As the eldest, he felt responsible for providing for his mother and three younger sisters. Therefore, the young man started working while he also prepared to join the Police Academy, which happened before he turned 19 years old. Soon Larry Durham became the most respectable police officer of the district. After all, a 5'11” 250 pounds off-season bulky handsome muscular office with a well-groomed mustache “Tom Selleck.” mustache along with his tanned skin and manly rugged jaw was simply impressive. Throughout his outstanding career, Larry’s great physique and impressive strength proved valuable at the line of duty. He soon rose into higher positions still keeping in great shape for the following years, spending his precious free hours at the gym, participating in amateur bodybuilding shows, which secretly kept his fantasy of becoming a professional bodybuilder, especially after he saw his fellow police officer Ronnie Coleman becoming the contender with most wins among the pantheon of Olympia champions. In the meantime, Larry got married to his wife Rachel in the summer of 1990 and Larry Junior was born in the spring of 1992. The muscular police sergeant was happily proud of his healthy baby boy. Their family lived happy until the death of Rachel in a horrible car accident in the year of 2002. Since then, Larry became solely responsible for his precious young boy, who quickly became the greatest fan of his father’s exciting amateur bodybuilding career. Larry Durham Junior was going to bodybuilding shows since he was a toddler, and as a little boy, he was the most enthusiastic fan. Always cheering to his father from the first rows, giving him “tips” and commenting on his pose in real time. It was very cute to see the young boy thrilled during his massive father’s posing routine. Of course, Junior was very passionate about it and never liked when they did not announce his dad among the top five contenders. At first, he cried aloud, but soon he learned the politics of sportsmanship and got his opinions about the poor judging to himself. Junior loved when his dad was onstage receiving the trophy because he would always take his time to come and pick him up, lifting his body in those massive arms and pose for the pictures carrying him – his biggest and most important trophy. People loved when Senior and Junior posed together, the massive contender and his cute young boy. Over the years, Larry Senior realized that his secret fantasy about becoming a professional bodybuilder would not come true. Junior was getting older and he needed to get extra shifts to pay for his boy’s education. On the other side, he truly hated dieting for competitions and in several shows he got mediocre results for not being able to cut down more efficiently. But everything got better as he decided to join Master’s division – his great bulk and powerful stance made him look much better than the other competitors. In fact, Larry was the most famous Master’s amateur bodybuilder of the region, until the phenomenon Steve “the Rock” Finnegan blew him out of the water. Steve was ten years Larry’s senior, which put them in separate Master’s divisions. Although Finnegan competed with a much lighter weight range than Larry – who struggled to keep his onstage weight under 220 pounds –his condition was impeccably phenomenal, which, added to the fact he had started bodybuilding at the age of 54 years old only contributed to make him won successive overall titles in the master’s category. Larry was indeed amazed with Steve’s impressive stats, especially how he managed to keep in such great shape throughout all the year. The two bodybuilders actually developed a very synergetic camaraderie. Steve followed Larry’s advises to strengthen his shoulder and back while the younger veteran tried to keep up with Finnegan’s energetic posing technique. Larry still wished he could at least win one overall against Steve but the guy’s physique was just outstanding. Of course, that was before the SMM revolution. Even the great Steve was not immune to their arrival. If they once stood as bastions of mature manliness, now people regarded as just “old little guys”. Larry Durham got frustrated when guys he knew suddenly grew into humongous sizes and had more strength than a dozen of younger guys at their prime. Why couldn’t this happen to him? He wanted to show these youngsters what a true man was. Larry started to feel his own son was disappointed at him for not being able to grow like that. He barely managed to continue his preparation for the last show, thus resulting in a poor fifth place, which made him even more depressed. Larry Junior drove his car down the road with one single thought in his mind. He had to make his father grow like he made Steve Finnegan grow. He needed to do it for his dad, his father, his ultimate hero. Junior became a police officer because he wanted to serve his community like his father served for so many years. Durham Senior was indeed very proud his boy finished Police Academy at the top three percent of the class. Meanwhile, Durham Junior has always been extremely proud of his father. Every boy wants to brag about his father’s strength and prowess but few actually could tell other boys that his father was indeed more muscular and much stronger than the vast majority of fathers in the world. Junior loved to cheer for his dad in the shows, but he loved even more to watch his dad posing at home, looking at the mirror and asking him how he looked. In time, they became best friends and gym partners. Junior devoured everything about bodybuilding and was eager to follow his footsteps in the sports as well. Although his own physique inherited most of Senior’s great genetic makeup, Junior soon felt he wouldn’t develop the same kind of physique. He didn’t want to eclipse his father’s amazing body. He wanted him to look always bigger, so he never became a contender, rather an enthusiast, a connoisseur dedicated to support his impressive father in everything he needed. The police officer parked his car and entered his father’s house. He knew exactly where to find his muscular dad. Larry Senior was just finishing reading the morning news at the kitchen. “I am right here, son.” Not many 58-year-old fathers wear golden thin framed reading glasses have 250 pounds of muscular early off-season bulk and Larry Durham Senior looked especially thick that particular morning. The young officer entered the kitchen, with his uniform all wrinkled and barely unbuttoned, without his hat and sunshades, visibly sweat and very excited, which instantly made his father worried. “Is everything alright, son? What happened to you?” Senior said standing up and quickly approaching his son to check on him. “Steve Finnegan…I just saw him…he is HUGE! He turned SMM too!” Junior managed to say between breaths, but he noticed right away those news made his father immediately sad. “Oh…so it finally happened to him huh? Well, he wanted it so bad…” Larry said as he tried to return to the table, but clearly shaken by those news. “No wait…dad…you don’t understand. He is immense! I saw him and he looks humongous, so massive and muscular, and…I made him grow even bigger out of thin air!” Junior said holding the strong hard forearms of his own father. “You? What are you talking about? You said he was SMM when you saw him, how did you make him grow? Junior you’re talking nonsense now…” Larry Senior felt a chill going down his spine now, like he had butterflies in his stomach. If Steve Finnegan already became SMM how could his son make him grow even bigger? “I know, but he told me that I have the ability to make guys grow into SMM just like the other kid he had with him. It doesn’t have to be just one guy, many others can do the trick too, and I made him grow dad! It was amazing!” “I am happy for you son, Steve is a great guy and I’m sure he’ll treat you right as his…trigger” Larry Senior still didn’t know exactly how to behave. He wanted to seem supportive but he was devastated on the inside. “Dad…you don’t get it. He said I could be his trigger if…” Larry Junior looked at his father’s noticeably disappointed expression and felt miserable. He didn’t want him to feel that way, he had such good news, his own father could become SMM, he just needed to take whatever it was inside his very son! “I can make you grow too dad…I know I can, I saw…Steve grew huge, he ballooned right in front of me…It was so intense, it felt so good. I want you to have that power, dad…I want you to grow…”Junior hugged his father and held his muscular arms, kissing his cheekbones. Larry Senior closed his eyes and whispered. “I want to grow to son…I wish you could make me huge like those guys!” Their hug was intense; the mutual complicity between father and son was just one of the many layers of their deeper relationship. Junior was still hesitating, but his father’s mustached lips soon reached for the younger man’s lips and they kissed passionately. The bond was finally sealed and the power unleashed. Larry Durham Junior came and Larry Durham Senior became SMM in that exact following second. “I can feel it son!” The father exclaimed as he felt his boy moaning and his own youthful cock spewing its contents inside his pants. His body seemed to convulse and bulge as if it was bubbling from the inside. He moaned and groaned in loud guttural sounds. His already impressive muscular frame expanded further. Fortunately, Senior had taken a protein feast for breakfast with 2 dozen egg white omelet, protein shakes and tuna burgers. All the food seemed to be converting into immediate super muscular augmentation. “Grow daddy…please grow huge…you gotta grow for me!” Junior said, feeling his cock growing harder again as his father’s augmented masses forced their way against the fabric of his clothes. Junior loved the feeling of the expanding width of his father engulfing more of his body in that manly warm embrace. He felt safe, protected, confident and so happy. His power seemed to intensify and Senior’s growth increased its pace. “Fuck…it is getting more intense son!” Larry Senior said as he flexed his now 25 inches biceps, which had augmented tremendously in the span of a few seconds; his chest ballooned and his shoulders widened and thickened. Even his legs seemed to be growing longer, but his quads were shaking with new layers of denser and harder fibers, while the amazingly thick calves increased on girth, pumping more muscle growth back into his upper body. The huge turtle shell 6 pack stomach popped into 8…and then 10 incredibly developed knots of muscle that looked even better in the slightly distended stomach, which only made his waist look smaller as the rest of the body continued to grow and develop further. “Did you grow Finnegan like that?” Senior asked holding his son’s head gently higher to look into his eyes. Junior shook his head in denial. “No…it was awesome, he grew huge, but NOT like you are growing right now…you…are my hero dad…I love you, I have to give you my best, you deserve nothing less!” The young officer closed his eyes and hugged his growing father even tighter, focusing his mind on his greatest wish, hoping his heart would help him in the task of making his father grow into a true SMM! “Holy shit!” Senior exclaimed as his body was taken in another tidal wave of growth that caused his expansion to get even more intense. The shoulders and deltoids increased their thickness and girth, the biceps expanded while the two thick veins crossing their rugged surface split into 4 then 8 and they engorged as the muscular tissue expanded underneath it with such hunger for growth. “You are my hero, I love you dad…You have to get huge! You have to become massive! You are going to show them who’s the real SMM!” Larry Junior kept his eyes closed and screamed at the top of his lungs, as his father grew even bigger. The worshipping hands of the son slipped as the expansion of the muscles in the humongous father increased continuously. The mustached man moaned as his jaw grew even broader and his neck thickened with new layers of powerful muscle, his mountainous chest plates inflated with the new size, the sound of his ripping clothes filled the room, while he continued to expand beyond his wildest dream. “You are my boy, my son…Fuck you just never cease to make me happy boy!” Larry Senior picked him higher and kissed him once again. This time, his achingly hard cock erupted from the confinement of his underwear. The glorious uncut 12 inches monstrous cock had grown 25% bigger in a matter of seconds, and throbbed majestically pressed between their bodies. Senior groaned as he ripped the clothes of his son and in one single, slow, and yet very sensual movement, he inserted the immensely huge head inside his son’s smooth anus and pushed it inside. They both screamed because it was then that Durham Father’s growth reached its peak. The muscle growth spasms increased tremendously and at each time, Senior pumped his cock deeper into Junior’s butt he grew bigger, wider, thicker. His muscles seemed to grow in the same vibration, pumping bigger and harder, his body developing, his frame expanding. Junior moaned, his butt ached, it hurt like hell, but it was so amazing at the same time. He never felt so manly before, he could make his father grow into a monster of inhumanly huge senior muscles. Truly monstrous and massively powerful. He deserved that, anything he could do to provide that was still a low price to pay to make his father’s dream come true. The feet of the son were not touching the ground, because they were actually fucking mid-air while the growing behemoth father provided all the sustentation strength they needed to keep pounding and fucking like the passionate lovers they became. “I am growing so huge…getting massive for you boy! You will never need to look to another guy again! Your daddy is going to be the biggest of them all!” Senior said into his son’s ears, holding the arms of the boy with just one hand while he flexed his now 30 inches monstrously huge biceps and his cock grew even harder and longer inside his boy’s hole. Junior smiled as he tried to clench his own anus as tight as possible to make his dad feel even more pleasure. They both were dripping sweat, but the father never felt tired, he let his boy slide down to the base of his cock and kept pumping him with nothing but the strength of his hips, bouncing the man into his enormous phallus while he flexed his arms. Senior threw his head back as his first orgasm exploded inside his son’s butt. The thick globs of cum were flying all over the kitchen area as he managed to keep pounding, his cock was never soft, it only grew longer and harder. The monumental augmentation of the monstrous senior muscle men continued, perfected, developed while Larry Junior felt his own body filled with fresh manly hot cum. All of a sudden, Larry Senior realized his mind opening up to a completely new world. He could feel his son in a deeper level, he could actually feel exactly what the young lad felt towards him, how much pleasure his body received and how powerful their bond was in reality. “Thank you, Junior…you are my greatest gift indeed.” He said as he held the boy firmly in his arms, feeling their hearts beating together. “I’m yours daddy…” “Oh…in more ways than you can even imagine, boy…” He chuckled, kissing his lips and enjoying the uncanny sensation of his marvelous augmentation. Meanwhile, Larry Junior was so lost in the blissful orgasm he felt his body going numb and very sleepy. Larry Senior nested his son’s sleeping body around his monstrous shaft. He was still cumming inside the boy’s ass and still growing bigger. “You were right Steve, SMM fucking rule!” End of Part VI

Hey, how ya doing. My name is Jeff, I'm from New Jersey, and I am a 23-year-old Professional Bodybuilder. Let me give you some information about me. I am a white male, black hair and blue eyes. I stand about 6'4 and weigh around 278 lbs. My dad started me in the sport of bodybuilding, he always wanted to get into bodybuilding but he was too poor to join a gym and buy all the stuff that is needed when he was a teenager. But now, my dad is a very successful plastic surgeon and has placed his dream of bodybuilding upon me. It was and still is frustrating at times since I never really got to choose this sport and to be this big. He started me in this sport at the age of 11. I agree with you, that's too young. I was the only Junior in High school, well to be exact, the only teenager my age that had competed in a total of 28 contests at my age. All my friends were into sports like football and soccer, but I was too big and too slow to even try-out, but I was the only teenage bodybuilder that had two personal trainers and a choreographer for my posing routines. While everyone else was getting a car from their dad, I was getting enormous calf implants from mine. My dad started juicing me when I was only 15, and he knows that's not healthy, but he's a doctor so I had medical supervision. I was featured in many magazine, esp. since I was the only 18 year-old that competed at a body weight of 235. By my senior year I had 21 inch arm and 31 inch thighs. I was always considered a freak in high school and wasn't too popular. I was sort of shy in school, it didn't help either that teachers would always call attention to my size in class and always have to have a special desk for me so I could fit (if you ever weigh 235 and try and fit in a school desk, you will not succeed) Well, I am in my senior year of college right now majoring in Electrical engineering (I guess that ruins your stereotype of a bodybuilder haha). And I just got my pro card at the NPC Junior USA, where I competed as a super heavy. The good thing is that when you get your pro-card, you can get endorsements, get hired for photo shoots, do seminars, or guest pose at contest. This is where my story begins. This past summer I had the weirdest experience I will ever have. You see, I was just getting off the high of becoming pro and this guy called me and asked me to guest pose for his contest in a small town in the south. I quickly agreed to do it, I was thinking I had hit it big time, no one ever had asked me to do such a thing, and I wasn't about to turn that down. And to think if I did, I wouldn't hear the end of it from my dad. Well I gave the guy some info and he did the same for me. He mentioned that he wanted me to do a posing session for the beginning of the contest and during the end before the placements. I said sure that sounds great, esp. after he told me how much he was gonna pay. Before we hung up, he said he would send me some info about the contest and what they needed from me. After I got off the phone, I quickly called my dad to tell him of the news, he was very excited which I knew he would. He said he would make arrangements to get my choreographer working on a routine and the trainers to get me started. He even said he would make an appointment with a designer to get special posing trunks. You see in Bodybuilding, you try to cover up your dick and balls with as little material as possible, you want to be as naked as you can so you can show off ever muscle. Well, three weeks went by and a week before I was to leave for the contest I got a packet from the guy. I was asking stuff like the food I wanted for the weekend, the music I was gonna use, and then it asked for a complete list of my measurements. There was a drawing of a bodybuilder with arrows pointing to certain areas of the body. I had to have my roommate measure me for that info, I though it was strange to ask but, hey, I have never done a thing like this. However, I was eager to please. My roommate measured my wrists, ankles, neck, arms, chest, and so on. As I wrapped up my last week, I was soon on the plane heading for the contest. As I arrived, there was the guy holding up a sign that said 'Jeff'. I quickly waddled to him: you really can't walk when you have 34 inch thighs and weigh 278. His name was Tom, and was the owner of the gym that was putting on the contest. He quickly drove me to his small town, the ride took about 45 minutes. It was sort of strange, he asked me to take of my shirt and pants. I was sort of uncomfortable with this, but he said he was just wanting to see what he had purchased and with the money he was offering, I wasn't gonna say 'no'. We arrived just in time for the weigh in Friday night. We pulled up to the auditorium and before I had a chance to put on my clothes, Tom quickly said, 'just come on in, in your briefs, I want the guys to see a real bodybuilder." Okay, that made feel uncomfortable, but as I said, he's the boss. When I entered the room all the bodybuilders looked at me, I was easily the biggest guy there. They all gathered around me asking questions, telling me to pose, and wanting a picture. After all that, Tom took me to the hotel. After sleeping late and watching TV all day, it was time to head to the contest. Tom had arranged a ride for me there. As I arrived backstage, I was quickly stripped, covered in tan solution and oiled up by three huge guys, all bodybuilders. It was sort of strange, they didn't speak to me at all and were sort of rough. All of this got me heated, my dick throbbing from all the attention, the rubbing, the oil, and the idea of being nearly naked in front of a few hundred people. I started getting a erect, which was a problem, because in posing trunks, you can't hide your sword. After they had finished with me, they led me behind the curtain, I heard the MC announce me and before I knew it, it was time to pose. The music was loud and kicking. I had chosen my favorite Limp Bizkit song. During the routine, I jumped off-stage and went into the crowd. Walking around in front of everyone, hands grabbing me to touch my muscles, people taking pictures, got me so hard that I couldn't hide my excitement. Then the nightmare happened. Before I knew it, the crowd mobbed me and held me down. Before I knew it, my posing trunks were ripped off and I was tied up so tight, I could even move a finger. Some of the audience picked me up and carried me back to the stage. My heart was racing beneath my huge overdeveloped pecs, that you could actually see my big brown silver dollar nipples jumping up and down. Here I was being lifted up on stage naked and scared. After they got me on stage, a few of the others guys brought out this big metal box. As the rolled it to the center of the stage, the crowded yelled and screamed. To my fear, it came true, as the opened the box, I saw tons of cuffs and fasteners and straps, which I knew were specifically measured to my body. I could run or even scream due to the gag in my mouth. About six men place me in the box, securing my ankles, strapping in my thighs and waist, placing my wrist in the cuffs and even locking my neck in place my this huge metal stock. I must have taken at least 10 minutes to strap me in. However the audience did not tire, all I could see was a sea of clapping hands and flashbulbs going off. After they had strapped and locked me in, they closed the doors of this case I was in, then I felt it, a hand grabbing my dick and balls and pulling them out of the box. Here I was, in this metal case, all that was sticking out was my head and dick, next came the nightmare. As I was there all strapped in, the MC came over the loudspeaker and introduced Dr. Gary Wagner. This guy came up on stage next to me and shared with the audience that he was about to show the latest in bodybuilding supplements. I can't say I really listened due to the humiliation I was suffering, you see, I may be extremely huge and handsome, but you can't cover up a small dick. Before I knew it, the doctor had stuck a needle in my dick and neck. He announced to the audience to just sit back am be amazed. After the injection, that is when it went weird, I started feeling hot and short of breath. After a minute or so, I could feel the straps and cuffs getting tighter. I looked down as best as I could to see my pecs growing before my eyes, and then my dick. I could feel it getting harder and harder, to where the skin felt like it was going to split. As I was growing the doctor and some of the men started undoing the cuffs and straps, soon I was removed from the box. I could now see I was growing huge. My legs started moving further and further apart, my lats and chest grew so big, that my arms were sticking straight out due to the muscle of my lats pushing them out. The crowd screamed and hollered. I became scared, yet so excited, of my new size that my dick couldn't hold the excitement, I exploded. It was so powerful, that I sprayed the first two rows. People went crazy. Then the doctor brought out a scale. He then had some men place me on it...by this time, I was so huge, I couldn't move. The doctor then announced that I had just gone from 278lbs to 450lbs. The crowd cheered some more. Then Tom came out on stage, I could barely move my head due to my trap muscles locking my head in place. He announced I would be on display at the end of the contest. As I was moved to the lobby, I was shackled and tied up in chains, straps, and rope. The crowd came by, groping me, jacking me off, and squeezing me. I went on for all night. Every time someone would reach for my dick, I would try and beg them not too, but the gag held me back from pleading with them. Over and over again, my dick would be lubed up and jacked off. I had been jacked off so many times, that I felt like a dairy cow getting milked. Picture upon picture was taken of me. Measurements were taken, my arms now were a whopping 29 inches, my thighs were 42 inches, calves were 30 inches, and my dick was 14 inches and thicker than a baseball bat. There I stayed tied up so tight I could barely breath. Around 7a.m everyone had left. The doctor and Tom came up to me and thanked me for my services, I tried to cuss them, but again the gag held me from that luxury. The doctor injected me again with a purple looking fluid. Before long, my body started going back to the original form, I had never been so glad to see myself get smaller. Then, my head started feeling light and the light became dimmer. As I awoke, I found myself awake in the airplane. I looked around, no one else was in the plane, how strange I thought. As I arrived back to my dorm room, I found a check amounting to $25,000 in my suit case and a letter that read, "Jeff: Awesome show...let's do that again." It all felt like a dream to me, until I took of my clothes to take a shower. There, hanging to my knees, was the biggest dick I had ever seen. Apparently not all the side affects went away.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 TROY Come here, Maggot. I know we finished the workout for the day, but I want to show you something. Stand right here in the mirror. That’s good. Now, take off your shirt. What do you see? What do you mean, nothing? You’ve been training for 3 weeks now! What do you see?! You don’t know? Ok, let me show you. First, your paunch is almost completely gone! You think you’re getting fat? Haha. No, Maggot, you’re just getting a little bulking gut. A bulking gut is completely different than a paunch. A bulking gut is a nice rounded stomach that comes from putting on muscle, which usually comes with a little fat—not much you can do about that. And a paunch hangs low on your waste, goes all around your middle like a spare tire and comes from being a crap eating, video gaming, couch jockey! You see those two bumps just below your rib cage? They were never there before, were they? Those are your upper abs, Maggot. You’re starting to get fucking abs! Yeah go ahead and poke ’em. Solid, aren’t they? And check out your chest. No more flat nubs. They’re becoming rounded mounds now. You have to have noticed how they’ve started pushing out the front of your shirt. And those new little caps of muscle on your boney-ass shoulders. They make your body look broader up top. And flex those arms. Yeah, that’s it, flex. You got biceps, now Maggot! They’re not much more than bumps, but they’re a helluva lot more than you had when we started. And feel those legs! Yeah go on, feel ‘’em, just like this. They’re a lot thicker and harder than they were. That’s all the running and the squats you’ve been doing. Fuck, they’re like rocks! You... …Ahhh… Cindy? What’re you doing here? You came to see what I’ve been spending so much time on? So what if I’m standing here with a shirtless dude? This is a weight room. There are lots of shirtless dudes around. What do you mean I spend more time with my Maggot than I spend with you? He’s my Maggot. I told you about the bet. So what if I had my hand on his leg. Dudes feel each other’s muscles in the gym all the time, especially if one dude is training another dude. Is he blowing me? Cindy, if you were a dude, I’d knock you into next week for saying something like that! Ok, fine. Fucking ask him. See, he’s not blowing me. Are you fucking happy? Where are you going now? Geeze, fucking bitches! Problem is, she’s the hottest girl in school; buys her a lot. The bitches are gonna start looking at you soon, Maggot. Be fucking careful though; most of ’em are bat-shit crazy. So, don’t pay any attention to Cindy. I think you should be proud of yourself Maggot! I think you should enjoy the look and feel of your body as you change from a slug to a man! And I’ll tell you something else! I think you’re doing way better than your buddy Ralphie. From what I can see, you just got better genetics, like I’ve been saying all along! Simon Philips, though… I don’t know what’s going on with him. Those shirts Jack dresses him in are so big they hang on him like a tent. It’s hard to tell what’s going on underneath. But he’s such a tiny guy, I can’t believe he’s doing better than you. Yup, I think we got this bet won! Brian’s Journal Day 22 The shit seriously hit the fan today! I don’t know what’s going to happen now… Just when I was starting to get used to this whole fucking weird maggot-thing. I mean at first, it was pretty fucking rough. My body hurt so bad, I could barely move. But that went away after a couple of weeks. I still hurt, but nothing like I did. …And after the workout yesterday, fucking Troy, actually giving me a guided tour of my own body. As if I hadn’t noticed. Hell yeah, I’d noticed! It’s been staring out of the mirror at me every morning for days! At first it was me looking at these little lumps and bulges going, “Is that what I think it is?” A little prodding, a little poking and I was pretty sure. Fuck, they’re muscles. I was growing muscles! Then I found if I tried I could actually make them jerk a little. It was actually pretty cool—all those tiny bulges of twitching muscle. And my biceps… they started showing up about a week after the workouts began. I’ve been checking those out every day. And every day they get bigger. I mean they’re not huge or anything. In fact, I think most guys have bigger arms than me… But then again, every day they get bigger. I think it was the day after I first started noticing the changes that I found myself waking up in the morning before Troy actually got there. I’ll never forget the look on his face the first morning I was out of bed and waiting for him when he showed up. It was classic Troy. And then today at lunch… Fuck… Shit got real. It started out pretty normal. I was feeling pretty good about the changes I was going through, and I found myself looking across the lunch table at Ralphie and wondering what kind of changes he was going through. So, I said, “Hey dude, check this out.” And I pulled up my sleeve and flexed my budding bicep for him. He kinda smirked at me and went, “Oh yeah? Check this out.” Then he pulled up his sleeve and flexed his arm. Fuck, he had a bicep too! Was it as big as mine? Was it bigger? I just couldn’t tell. But I knew a way to find out. “Wanna arm wrestle?” I asked. “Seriously?” asked Ralphie. “Yeah,” I said. “Seriously.” It was about this point that the jock table noticed what we were doing. They all started elbowing and nudging each other and pointing over at us. Hunter and Troy were grinning and trash talking each other and I could tell bets were being placed. Before Ralphie and I knew what was happening, the whole jock table was crowded around us. For some reason Jack wasn’t there. I never really found out why. I think he may have been sick or something, but anyway… Our little arm wrestling match had become a main lunch time event. Talk about pressure, I think both of us were kind of regretting our decision. But it was far too late now. We took our positions, elbows on the table and arms extended. I could hear Troy cheering me on, “You can do it, Maggot! He’s nothing! Waste him!” Of course Hunter was saying pretty much the same thing to Ralphie. We clasped hands and stared each other in the eye. Damn, Ralphie looked determined. Well, I was just as fucking determined! One of the jock’s said, “Ok, on the count of 3. 1… 2… 3!” And it was on! I gave a mighty push! Fuck, I thought I might just have been able to quickly slam his arm to the table, but fuck no! He pushed back just as hard. We were both straining, hard as we could, against each other. The cheers and shouts of the jocks all around us. A lot of them were calling, “Go Maggot, go!” Of course it was hard to tell which maggot they were cheering for. I’m not even sure if they knew. I’m not even sure if they cared. I could see my new bicep bulging up hard. Fuck, at that moment it just didn’t look like much. But Ralphie’s didn’t either and after a few seconds he started to give. Slowly I began forcing his arm down. “That’s it, Maggot!” shouted Troy. “Destroy him!” I could see Ralphie was straining as hard as he could and I could see he looked worried. I found myself smirking over the table at him. I was winning. I was stronger. And it felt pretty damn good. With one final heave, giving it everything I had, I slammed him to the table. FUCK YEAH! Cheers went up amongst the jocks. Money changed hands. Troy was slapping me on the back. “Atta boy, Maggot, I knew you could do it!” Hunter looked kind of pissed, and he shouted over at Troy. “It ain’t over yet. We got til graduation! By then my maggot will be crushing yours into dust!” “Yeah,” answered Troy, “and then you woke up!” And then suddenly we all heard this ridiculously loud shout. It sounded like a pissed off kid who had just gone through puberty and gotten a voice that was way too deep for him to handle. “FUCK OFF, DOUCHE! Everybody turned. There in the lunch line was little Simon Phillips, resplendent in his tent-like, yellow Jack’s Maggot shirt. He was red faced and pissed and shouting at Justin Tambor, who was about a head taller than him, “YOU FUCKING CUT IN FRONT OF ME!” “Yeah?” said Justin. “So, what if I did? What are you going to do about it? You fucking jock-boy guardian angel ain’t here today! And you’re just a little fucking ant man without him.” “ANT MAN?” Simon turned so red I thought he might explode. Then suddenly he was yanking off his yellow shirt and… Holy fuck! He was completely yoked! He pulled a most muscular pose and, all at once, muscles were exploding out all over him. He had a fucking bulging chest, a chiseled six pack, a back writhing with ridges and slabs of muscle, tennis ball sized, striated shoulders and big, vein-covered bicpes that looked like they were starting to develop peaks! Simon let out a low growl and then, grinning savagely, he grabbed Justin by the arm, twisted it, and forced the wincing taller guy, to his knees. “WHOSE FUCKING ANT MAN NOW, DOUCHE?!” It was suddenly so quite in the cafeteria you would have thought school had ended and everyone had gone home. Simon turned to Ralphie and me and shouted. “And when the time comes, I’m going to do the same thing to you two losers, only by then I’ll be way fucking bigger!” Then smirking, he flexed his bulging biceps at us. “Unless you want some now?” Both Raphie and I were too shocked to move, let alone answer him. One of the lunch monitors came over and asked Simon to put his shirt back on which he begrudgingly did. It was then I noticed Simon had a bad breakout of acne across his chest and back. The lunch monitor led both Justin and Simon out of the cafeteria, presumably to the office. As if someone hit a switch, the cafeteria erupted into a sea of babble. Troy tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Stick to your phone. You’ll be hearing from me.” Then he turned to Hunter and said “Jack’s been juicing his maggot.” Hunter acknowledged Troy with a sagely nod, and the two of them walked away to confer. Ralphie was as stunned as me. Holy crap! What’s going to happen now? Next Part

Four Chris was preparing his bag for his upcoming trip: he would be out of town for two weeks to compete in a level 1-event and the San Francisco-masters. He gazed up and turned his head around as he thought he heard a deep, beastly roar coming from the house next door. He gulped as it reminded him of his cousin's deep voice from his nightmare. "Must be imagining things", he said to himself and went into the bathroom to fetch some stuff. He had to grab the washbasin for support when a feeling of weakness fell over him. His vision went dark for a split second and his knees buckled while goose bumps appeared all over his body. He blinked a few times and looked at his reflection in the mirror. His tank top still clung to his well-trained, 215 pound frame but he could swear something was off: his wide, rounded shoulders that normally formed a strong line seemed to hunch forward slightly and his protruding pecs seemed to hang down a bit lower against his tank top as if his big muscles were pulled down by gravity. "Lack of sleep is getting to me", he said and discarded the thought. He grabbed his razor and toothbrush and put them in his bag. He tossed his bag over his shoulder and went downstairs. Next to his car keys on the kitchen table he found a note. "Some inspiration to bring back the gold" He turned the note around and discovered a picture of his girlfriend in her tiny, black bikini. He put the picture in his wallet and left, feeling a bit uneasy having to leave his girl behind. Ted had finished cleaning the cum-stained bathroom, pulled on a fresh tank top and his baggy hoodie and went out for a workout. He felt the energy flowing through his veins and his balls pulsing as they released amounts of testosterone in his body. He saw his cousin putting a bag in his car and headed over. "YO, Chrissy". Chris nearly jumped up as he heard the deep voice. He turned around and instinctively took a step back as he saw his big cousin strutting toward him. He looked up into 6 feet tall teen's eyes. Ted couldn't suppress a faint grin as he noticed his muscular cousin stepping back from him. "Recovered from our arm wrestling, Chrissy? Just say when ya want a rematch. I'ld love to wipe yar ass again", Ted said and intently stopped very close to his cousin. Chris gulped and tried not to look intimidated but his big cousin standing just inches in front of him, made him feel uncomfortably. His feeling of physical supremacy, regained during his shower-fuck, evaporated as he was reminded of his defeat. The musky smell surrounding the big guy added to his unease. "Just kiddin', Chrissy", Ted said and laughingly patted his cousin's muscular shoulder, "Ya going on a trip?". Chris relaxed a bit at the teen's smile but suppressed a grunt from the surprisingly hard pat. "Off two weeks to compete. Defending my titles.", he said while scanning his cousin's big frame hidden under the baggy hoodie. Ted followed his cousin's gaze and grabbed his right arm, playfully closing his big paw around the 20 inch bicep he destroyed last night. "How's yar arm feeling? Hurting after I crushed it?", he asked and clenched his paw some more around the hard muscle. "I'm fine", Chris said, his voice cracking slightly as his aching bicep was dented by the paw. He cleared his throat while the surprisingly hard grip released the strong orb of meat atop his right arm. "Could you do me a favor, Ted", he asked as he looked back up into his cousin's eyes. "Ya name it", Ted replied with a smug grin on his face. "Would you mind keeping an eye on Trisha? First time she can't come with me cause of her work. You're family and live next door, so…", Chris asked. "No worries, Chrissy. I'll take care of her", Ted answered. "Thanks a lot, Ted", Chris stated and extended his hand to his cousin. Ted grabbed his cousin's hand, his big paw engulfing it and shook it powerfully. Chris winced a little, a faint painful grunt escaping his mouth and pulled his hand from the strong grip. Or tried to. Ted grinned as he felt his cousin trying to break free. "See ya in two weeks, Chrissy", he said and opened his paw. Chris got in his car and drove off, seeing his cousin's smiling reflection in his side mirror. Jeremy put the voodoo doll at the bottom of his bag and left his uncle's gym in a hurry. He jumped into his car and raced off to the airport, happy he hadn't run into the teen beast and wouldn't have to see him for two weeks. He felt energy flowing through him and strutted proudly across the crowd. He noticed his rival Chris standing at the check-in and thought the guy already looked less intimidating. He followed him from a distance, feeling stronger and more confident by his rival diminished aura. He got in line for the flight a bit behind his rival and installed himself at the rear of the plane. Arriving in San Francisco, he took a cab to his hotel. He strutted through the hallway, checked in and got to his room on the second floor. As soon as he entered his room, Jeremy tossed his bag on the floor and fished out the voodoo doll. He went into the bathroom and stripped in front of the mirror. Strength flowed through his 209 pound body as he went through some poses, highlighting his excellent shape. He grabbed the doll and clenched his fist around it. Instantly, he felt more energy coursing through him. A few blocks away, Chris felt a sudden surge of weakness come over him in his hotel room. The room danced before his eyes, his knees buckled and he crashed down atop his bed. "Must be some kind of jetlag", he muttered to himself before passing out in a deep, dark sleep. "Yeah", Jeremy grunted to his reflection. He could swear his muscles were getting more defined in the mirror. He flexed his chest a final time, striations and veins pushed up against his skin and went to sleep as he gave the voodoo doll another squeeze. Back at home, Ted was having the workout of a lifetime. The double dose of his new steroid atop his usual dose of old steroids pumped energy and testosterone through his huge body. He had set new personal records on every lift, pushing more weight and pumping out more reps than ever. He'd been in the deserted gym, filling it with his grunts and roars, for three hours and moved into the final part of his grueling workout: smashing his arm muscles. His arms, together with his shoulders, had always responded best to his training. The 25 inch orbs of power atop his arms dwarfed his other huge muscles. "Let's see what my babies can with their new fuel", he groaned to himself as he grabbed the heaviest dumbbells. He raised the 130 pound dumbbells slowly and lowered them back down with perfect control. "Feels like a feather", he said and began cranking out perfect rep after perfect rep. Blood began flowing into the meaty masses, a web of veins branching off the thick vein that snaked from his delts over the biceps onto his thick forearms. "More", he gritted between his teeth as he kept moving the weight up and down, pumping more blood into his swelling biceps. In his sweatpants, his plump dick followed this lead and blood began inflating the thick shaft. "Bigger", he grunted in between fastening breaths. His pumped biceps began burning painfully, stretching his skin as he forced the muscles to grow bigger. The burning sensation turned into a stabbing pump, his arms shaking from the effort but Ted kept cranking out reps. His dick had hardened fully, its 10 inches tenting the front of his sweatpants and a small dark patch forming where his precum flowed from the dark red head. "50", he grunted as he lifted the dumbbells a final time and tossed them on the floor. He ripped off his sweat drenched tank top and moved in front of the big mirror. He extended his arms, marveling at the size of the stretched, shiny red biceps. He brought in his forearms, his arms shaking with cramps as the pumped muscles protested against the command of flexing. His biceps balled outward into perfectly rounded orbs that swelled atop his arms; their peaks rose up and up and up, a web of curly veins pushed up against his stretching skin. "FU…UGH…UGH…UGH…CK", he roared as his biceps swelled beyond their familiar 25 inches and stopped just over 26. His dick jolted, its dark red head popping up over his waistband and exploded: cum geysered upward in the air, splattering against his face, pecs and abs. Ted lowered his left hand and stroked his spasming shaft, coating the mirror and the weights with his thick cum while he kept flexing his beastly right arm. After ten blasts, his orgasm wore down and Ted grinned at his cum-drenched reflection in the cum-stained mirror. He lowered his right arm and strutted toward the shower, jerking off once more as the hot water cascading down on his pumped muscles pulled his cock back to hardness. A few days went by and the level 1-event leading up to the San Francisco masters began. Even though he weighted exactly the same as he did during his previous competition, Chris' body seemed somehow less intimidating. But as usual the champ cruised through the opening rounds, his 215 pound physique still besting his opponents, and proceeded to the final. Jeremy came in radiating confidence as he felt the energy from the curse flowing through his 209 pound body. His flexing was more graceful than ever and he too cruised into the semis. There, his road into the finals was surprisingly blocked by Tom, a local athlete that had been handed a wildcard into the event. Jeremy outsized Tom by a good 10 pounds, but was less ripped: the thin layer of fat covering his muscles from his winter bulk, made him look softer than the 199 pound Tom. The guy's vacuum ab-pose handed him the ticket into the final, leaving Jeremy frustrated on stage. Chris didn't really care about his opponent: he'd always focused on his own physique and continued this approach. In the final, the 16 pound difference he held, secured his win. He outsized the local guy in every pose and his own ripped yet seemingly lessened body dominated in every pose. Tom tried putting up a good show but whatever he tried, the champ did better. When Chris threw his signature pose, the back double bicep, Tom just stared in awe as the muscles on the champ's wide back mounded against each other and his intimidating arms rose into their 21 inched orbs of hard meat. Tom shook the champ's hand and gladly accepted second place with a smile as broad as Chris' one. Jeremy was in a foul mood back in his hotel room. He could accept his loss to Tom: he had been neglecting his own training because of the voodoo curse and his own physique was a bit off. But the news off Chris's victory made him roar in anger. He grabbed the voodoo doll and squeezed it with all his might. Instantly, a wave of energy flowed through him. "I'll get back to him next week at the master-event", he said and went to bed. The week went by and soon enough the San Francisco masters were up. Jeremy felt more energized with every passing day and felt atop his game going into the competition. He easily won his opening line up and the next round. In the quarter finals however, he bumped into Tom again. Just like a week earlier, the guy's rippedness sealed Jeremy's faith: the judges unanimously declared Tom the winner of the line up and made him advance to the semis. Jeremy's frustration nearly exploded as he heard that his big rival Chris was cruising through the competition and was to meet Tom in the final on Sunday. The night before the big final the full moon illuminated the San Francisco sky. In his bed Jeremy felt an enormous wave of energy hitting his body. He awoke from his deep sleep and stumbled into the bathroom, gasping at his reflection as he turned on the light: most of his body fat seemed to have evaporated from his body. He looked a good 20 pounds lighter but striations and veins decorated his relaxed muscles. " All my fat must have gone to Chris", he said and returned to bed. The final got underway but from the beginning it was clear that Chris would win. The 20 pounds of fat that had somehow beefed him up, had softened his intimidating muscles but handed him an 36 pound advantage on his opponent. Tom came in at his prime: ripped and vascular but his 199 pound physique was simply overshadowed by the champ. Chris' huge muscles looked a bit saggy and his flexes lacked their usual explosion of masculinity, but his size simply couldn't be denied. Tom did beat him in the vacuum ab-pose but lacked the real size in the other flexes. Chris took the win, his sixth consecutive master-event and prepared himself to get home. Back at home Ted's two weeks had gone by like a breeze: he'd had the most fantastic workouts ever and was horny all day. His gains had been fairly slow, only 5 pounds, but his housemate had told him to be patient with the experimental stuff. He got home from the gym and stepped out of his car and stepped over to the house next door. He took the spare key Trisha had given him and went in. He looked around the house to check if everything was ok. "What took you?". Ted turned around to find Trisha standing naked atop the stairs. He rushed up, pulled down his sweatpants as he reached her to free his hardening cock, pushed Trisha back against the wall and eagerly pushed his rock-hard 10 incher inside her. "Oh God", she grunted as the thick shaft invaded her. Ted kept pushing more and more of his dick into her tight pussy. "Yeah. So much bigger than Chris. God", Trisha groaned as the thick snake pushed deeper inside her. When half of Ted's cock was inside her, spasms shot through her frail 120 pound body and her juices flowed along the hot pole. Ted felt the wetness along his rock-hard shaft and drove two more inches of his meat into her. He positioned his hands against the wall and began driving his cock back and forth into her, gently. Incoherent sounds escaped Trisha's mouth, her hands clawed into the hoodie covering Ted's torso as the teen beast began fucking her. She was being shoved up against the wall by the force of his trusts, her eyes widening in disbelief and sheer lust as her feet left the floor. Ted's big balls drew tight and began to churn as he completely dominated his cousin's girlfriend, supporting her with just his 10 incher. "YEAUGHN!", he bellowed deeply as his orgasm exploded into her, filling her with his sticky juice. Black dots of pleasure danced in Trisha's sight and she fell limp against the teen beast, her head resting atop his protruding, heaving pecs. Ted felt the pressure build around his cock as more loads blasted from his balls into Trisha. Cum was already sliding from her, flowing along the exposed three inches of his cock onto his balls before sliding along the crevices of his thick thighs. After ten blasts his orgasm cooled down and he slowly withdrew from Trisha. He wrapped his right arm around her, easily lifting her up against his big frame, pulled up his pants with his left hand and carried her to bed. He gently put her atop the bed and went home.

This is my attempt to continue the Invisible Kid, an old story from one of my top 5 favorite authors, TheEd. I did everything I could to give respect to his story. I hope it gives you guys the same chills that the original author gave me from this story. (BTW, this is part 3 so I have a feeling you might not understand much unless you find the original in the archives) My waking up was……pleasant. I woke up to the hood of a red and white umbrella you might have seen in an old commercial or TV show from the earlier 2000’s. I blinked my eyes. It was all a dream, I thought. I let out a sigh of relief. Almost blew my family up into giants, I laughed inwardly. But then two heads appeared in my view. “Are you ok, son?” My eyes bulged out of my skull (or atleast I felt like they did) as my eyes attached my dad’s handsome face to what should have been his body. Instead, a bigger, more beautiful looking interpretation of it filled my vision on my left side. “He’s just taking me in, dad. You know how I can be a bit much to handle” said Conan’s voice, also attached to a large body that must have been crafted from tanned marble. The two standing over me were like twin skyscrapers, my dad the taller of the two, their tight little red shorts still moist from the water and making a perfect shining effect as they stretched over thighs, waists, and bulges in their pants that pulled the lycra taut. I bolted upright and yet they still towered over me. Dad grinned even though he began to stand straight and his vision was eclipsed by two massive pectorals that looked dominated enough of Dad’s torso to protect me from the rain. “You’d think that he’d be used to us by now” he said as he leaned forward, grabbed me with two enormous hands and set me on my feet. I looked way up to my enormous father and brother but couldn’t fathom the words to speak. “Go on inside, son. For this one time, I’ll let your brother lotion me up” he said with a grin and passed the large bottle of lotion to Conan. The bottle seemed so average in their hands. Conan groaned as I walked away. “Why do I have to do it? He’s not going to be on display tomorrow.” I entered our now enormous house and hopped onto our “couch”. I call it couch but it was more like its own bed. I sat waaay back into the seat and found my knees couldn’t even bend due to the big furniture. How could I have done all of this? I grabbed the remote and quickly switched to the news. Everywhere I looked, there was my family. Whenever the news wasn’t talking about the weather, they were talking about either dad or what our family appeared to consist of: mom, dad, and Conan. As far as I could tell though, I didn’t remember being at any of these events. I became really scared of how much power I have used as I saw pictures of me being there (even though I obviously wasn’t the center of attention). Dad was typically flexing above a crowd thanks to his enormous height of 7’10. Sometimes, Conan would flex over them as well just to be apart and the crowd always seem to welcome him at each occurrence. Mom could be seen cheering on the sidelines often, not that it was hard when she was over 6’6. I kept looking for myself and I really had to squint to see myself next to them in different events. Compared to my enormous family, I was practically becoming invisible. “Marveling at the legacy?” came a booming voice from behind. Dad was looming over me and the couch, his pecs still doing their job at obscuring most of his face from me. He was still wearing nothing but his tight spandex shorts but that didn’t stop me from gawking. I had to rip my eyes away before he could peek over his pectoral mountains and keep my composure. “Yeah, they’re expecting me to visit a local strongman competition nearby. Crazy right?” he said with a big grin, my brain was turning to mush watching him smile with his deadly, handsome face. “Wait, dad. Have you ever even lifted weights before?” It was a fair question. I’d built them to be massive and virile sex gods, even now Dad’s shorts were straining and screaming as his cock hardened and grew rapidly inside. Dad shrugged and I almost went blind from the beautiful mountain range of muscle he created. “You already know that story, son. Me and your brother just kept getting bigger. Never needed to touch a weight. I’m actually a little bit excited to see what it feels like to lift steel like that.” I raised my eyebrows. “But dad—“ I started but his massive hand consumed my scalp and he ruffled my hair as if we were still in the previous reality. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. It always is.” I was more than anxious when the competition really got started. Big, hulking men stomped like bulls from station to station, their thick bellies round with beefy muscles that entered my vision before the rest of them did. Watching them lift the weights they hefted that day would be something I might not forget for a while. Dad, being the guest appearance, came near the end. I’d walked around for popcorn to calm my nerves but heard some of the competition managers talking and laughing about howthey’d been so lucky to get Dad to their competition. Too bad he was just for show. I stormed back to the competition to see dad waiting in his tent, lifting a weight awkwardly. For the competition, he’d convinced mom that he should wear something tight and intimidating, a tank top over his big muscles that looked like it was bound tear with the smallest flex and a pair of tight short shorts that were only an inch away from putting dad’s big, globe like ass muscles on display. He was definitely lifting much more than I could lift but I’d seen actors on Youtube lift just as much and they were a small fraction of Dad’s size. I came up to dad and jumped back for a second, he was taller than me and he was sitting on a low bench! “What’s up, son? Ready to see your da—Whoa” I jumped as I saw dad grab the weight he was hefting with his second hand. They had been right, my powers had only given dad visual beauty and size. I hadn’t considered making his super strong until his strong cock was ready for sexual release. I looked at dad’s big, bulging muscles. Can I make them stronger without making them grow? My eyes were glued to the muscles as I narrowed down my vision on them. I tried his biceps, then his pecs, then his forearms and so on until I’d reached his feet, covered in sneakers that were bulging from their girth. The feeling of concentration made me hold my breath again as I thought about Dad’s power. I wanted him much stronger. Way stronger than any of the other competitors and definitely stronger than those 6’7 mountains they had lifting the heaviest pounds. For a solid ten seconds, dad was still trying to hold the weights up and bend his arm properly as I tried to give them power. I got frustrated and gasped for air at the 30 second mark. His muscles hadn’t changed at all! The only reasonable difference might has well have been a pump. Was that the limit of my powers. Dad stood up and I lost sight of his face again as he heard an alarm sound. “That’s my cue!” he boomed as he strutted toward the ring. I ran to the crowd hurriedly and I made it just in time for this hefty man to come and lift a barbell attached to what had to be a ton on each end! The man was big at 6’9 and had to stuff his clothes with atleast 350 pounds of fat and powerful beef. He was hairy like a beast and his muscles were large and round. His cheeks were thick as though he were actually eating right then and there. To some, he might have been the perfect powerlifter. He lifted the weight with what looked like all of his strength and I gasped as it almost looked as though he could deadlift it but then he seemed to crumble and the weight slammed into the ground, cracking the cement and shaking the ground by the assistants nearby. I saw Dad come up behind him and pat his thick back as he supported himself on the weight in front of him, his forehead red and sweaty. “Careful now, I don’t think you’re big enough to carry all that weight yet” he jokingly jabbed at the guy and they both chuckled a little as the thick powerlifter strutted back to give Dad some space. I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened when I used my powers. Why didn’t it work? Dad’s muscles could be seen so it should have worked perfectly, right? Dad took a deep breath and I held my own as he prepped. Everyone was silent as he firmly grabbed the weight. Suddenly, dad’s muscles flexed and he attempted to yank the weight up with all his strength. The most beautiful muscles I’d ever seen seemed to enlarge as I watched him attempt. His back muscles hulked behind his neck and his pectoral muscles stretched the fabric of his tank top. Because of his skimpy shorts, I could see that dad’s shorts were also struggling as his big thigh muscles and ass tightened. So many vascular muscles appeared to punch up and against his thin skin but the weight didn’t budge. I was still holding my breath but I heard one of the managers laughing beside me again. That made me angry. Suddenly, dad’s muscles loosened up a little but the weight went up off the ground by an inch. Then he lifted it 2 inches. 2 inches became 3 inches and then 4 and then 6. Dad was slowly lifting the weight off the ground his hips. Light began to glisten on his muscles more than before and I was starting to see that his muscles had not grown but became harder! With a huff, he had swung the weight from his hips to his chest and I still hadn’t let go of my breath. I was realizing I was still making him stronger but I felt the part of me that didn’t want to stop. I wanted dad to win and the manager’s silence had clearly shown he had but I wasn’t satisfied. They’d insulted my dad and I wouldn’t let them off that easy. Suddenly, Dad pushed with new might and the weight was over his head. Over time, he flexed his muscles less and less as they were taking less and less strain. When I stopped, I took stock of what I’d done. He hadn’t gotten too strong right? Suddenly, my eyes had to adjust to something changing in the atmosphere. I rubbed them to get whatever it was out of my eyes and there it was again. Conan’s voice came from beside me. “Dad, stop kidding around!” “Sorry, son. I was having fun watch all of their jaws drop!” I opened my eyes and there was dad but something was different. There was more weight! Dad was holding not 2 tons over his head but 10 tons! That wasn’t even the most shocking part as he was now holding it on one hand and standing on one foot! Dad was like a circus performer balancing on a ball as he held the weight in the air easily. In a really cocky way, he scratched his slightly hairy armpits and hefted his cock, now getting hard and causing the contents on the shorts to balloon. Dad flexed a bicep with a pearly white smile. “You guys got anything heavier? Here, son! This weight isn’t that much is it?” I recoiled and fell back as dad actually THREW the 10 tons over in my direction! I crouched and waited for the end but I heard the clinking as something caught the weight. “Come on, kid. You’re not scared are ya?” Conan’s heavy voice said down to me. He was now holding the weight over his head too! He turned to dad and called back. “Yeah! It could use some more weight! Maybe add 45 on both ends?” he said, starting laughter between him and dad. Mom was in the background with a grin and her legs shifting. “My big, strong men” she said proudly. Her eyes were glued to dad and I knew they’d pound each other like animals tonight. Would she be able to handle the power I’d given him? Back home, I got a call from Luke. He’d stayed home to hide from the bullies for a day. Instantly, my guilt came back. I’d made Dad and Conan super human and Luke was still having to stay home to hide from bullies that I’d created! I wanted to give him the power to protect himself but I didn’t want him to kill anyone. The way he talked about getting revenge on those bullies really unsettled me. Of course, it unsettled me as much Mom and Dad in the background, the sound of their bed creaking and breaking under Dad’s mighty thrusting power and sending the strength and sound through the walls to my room. I turned on my headphones and tried to be a good teenager to sleep through it all but my hand found my cock and the sound of dad making the house shake sent me over the edge….. twice.

Two Jeremy entered the offseason with great frustration. Ever since his victory in the level 2-event of San Diego in may, he’d lost every big final to his one year younger rival, Chris. His recent victories had come in some minor level 2-events, were his physique had clearly dominated the field. His season-ending defeat in the tour finals had been a serious blow: not only had it cost him his number one position in the world rankings, he would now also have to watch his rival wearing the customized boxers marked ‘champ’. To make things even worse, his uncle’s gym balanced on the verge of bankruptcy in the ‘fitness unfriendly atmosphere’ created by “Moms against roids”. His income declined drastically as he soon had only a couple of clients left to train. Jeremy used the extra time to bulk up his own physique. He ate and worked out as relentlessly as his body allowed him; throwing up in the deserted gym on several occasions. By the end of February, he knew he was fully ready to take on his rival. Chris had passed an exciting offseason. He had received his parents’ house as they decided to move into a smaller apartment and had spent some very pleasant times with his girlfriend. Her support had made him train harder than before: she just couldn’t keep her hands off him as he got home pumped from the gym, jumping into the shower with him, groping and licking the hard masses of muscle across his body before they would fuck. Her lust had pushed him beyond his limits in the gym and had taken his physique to another level for the next season. Jeremy smiled as he entered the backstage off the Detroit-masters. He had won the three level 2-events leading up to this show and was more than ready to defend his title. He went through the daily drug test before getting ready to step on stage. He slowly strutted out, savoring how he outsized his opponents. As expected, he easily won his lineups and proceeded to the final. Likewise, Chris had cruised through the event to set up the clash with his rival. On Sunday afternoon, he entered the backstage and stepped up to his competitor. “Been a while since we’ve met”, he said. Jeremy turned around and looked slightly down in his opponents’ eyes. “Yeah”, he replied, “not my fault you chickened out the competition until now. Not that it makes a difference: I’ll take ya down like I did with the others and claim my fourth title of the season.” “Some nice victories you’ve had. Congrats”, Chris answered, “May the best man win today.” “No problem, I’ll try not to make you like tiny, kid”, Jeremy said and turned his back to his rival. The speaker called for Jeremy first and he confidently stepped out on stage. He bounced his pecs in response to the public’s cheers and took his position. A new wave of cheers announced Chris’ arrival and Jeremy looked aside. A stab of jealousy hit him when he saw the blue boxers marked ‘Champ’. Without looking any further at his rival, Jeremy faced the judges again. The mandatory quarter turns began and the difference between both athlete’s was clearly visible: Jeremy’s 209 pound body looked big but lacked its deep definition; Chris’ 215 pound physique on the other hand was shredded beyond its level of last season. Eager to defend his title, Jeremy quickly began the pose down. He put his hands behind his head, making his bicep ball up into their 18.5 inches of beef, and did an ab vacuum-pose, highlighting his v-taper by pushing out his lats. Chris followed this lead and copied the pose. His arms rounded into the 20 inches of striated meat next to his head, his thick triceps hard and defined at the back of his arms; he sucked in his abs incredibly deep, making his waist unbelievably small, every ridge of his six-pack deeply grooved between the hard blocks of muscle; his lats flared out clearly wider than his rival’s. Jeremy turned to face his opponent and threw a most muscular. His signature pose had won all his contests this season. The hard masses of muscle hardened across his impressive physique, striations and veins exploding over their surface: his pecs hardened like armor above his six-pack; his meaty arms balled up and pushed against his hard chest; his legs bulged outward as grooves and veins were pushed up by his strong quads. He smirked at his opponent. Chris first went into a most muscular facing the judges and the public. He then relaxed his pose and turned to face his still flexed opponent. He noticed the smirk on his rival’s face and flexed. Jeremy’s smirk faded as he looked at the flexing world champ. He summoned his last energy to harden his own flex, but it was no use. Chris’ fantastic muscles hardened fully all over his frame as he brought in his arms to complete his pose: his pecs bulged and swelled as the hard muscle pushed up striated lines against his pale skin; his defined six-pack rippled and hardened beneath the shelf of meat; his 20 inch arms pushed into the flexed rack; his ripped delts rounded atop his shoulders and eclipsed his rival’s; his thick quads, bulging outward, crowned his flex. Jeremy’s pose began to wear off as he realized his rival outsized him and was more shredded than him. That’s when Chris went into his signature pose: his mighty back double bicep. The hard mounds of meat on his wide back, clearly bigger than last season, bulged into each other as he held out his arms; his relatively small waist leading up to his wide shoulders highlighted his unrivaled v-taper; cuts and striations swarm across the round mass at the back of his shoulders; his triceps hung hard and thick toward the floor; his biceps swelled up as he slowly brought in his arms: the mounds of muscle pushed up several blue veins against his pale white skin as they rose to their 20 inches of hard, round meat. Jeremy didn’t copy the pose: he knew he’d lost. He looked at his feet and heard the judges call out Chris’ name as the winner of the Detroit-masters. Jeremy didn’t bother to shake hands with his rival, he left the stage, threw his runner-up prize on the floor and rushed to his car to get away. Chris couldn’t be any happier: he was the first athlete ever to hold the four master titles simultaneously and his physique was unrivaled. He got backstage after talking to the press, pulled on his clothes and went home. When he parked in front of his garage, he noticed a car parked next door. New neighbors, he thought as he entered his house. He tossed his bag aside and went upstairs. He took off his clothes and admired his physique in the mirror when a hand slapped his muscular ass. “Love how your boxers show off your ass, champ”, his girlfriend said as she jumped on his broad back, grabbing his pecs for support. “You’re too heavy for me, babe”, Chris said laughingly and pretended to struggle under the weight as he let his legs shake, sending striations across the surface of his ripped quads. His dick hardened in his boxers as his girlfriend pinched his nipples. “Maybe you’re just too weak, champ”, Trisha replied as she gently bit his ear. Her hands roamed his wide pecs. “Mghn”, Chris groaned as her frail hands continued their way down over his tight six-pack and played with the outlines of his dick through his now tented boxers. He gently tossed her frail body onto the bed, pulled down his boxers, his hard cock smacking against his lower abs as it was freed, and jumped in next to her. Trisha got atop him, mounting his abs and devoured his lips in a deep, sensual kiss. His stronger tongue easily overpowered hers and snaked into her mouth. Chris took a deep breath as she broke the kiss. Her small hands grabbed his wrists, not covering half of them, and he let her stretch out his muscular arms above his head on the mattress. “Can you break free of my hold, champ”, Trisha said as she rubbed her perky ass atop his abs and her back against his throbbing cock. “I give. You dominate me completely, babe”, Chris laughingly said as he pretended to struggle in her weak grip. He squirmed and flexed his arms slightly, avoiding to break her grip. Then, in a single motion, he broke her hold, grabbed her flanks, effortlessly lifted her up from his abs and positioned her atop his cock. “Oh”, Trisha grunted giggly as her big boyfriend lifted her 120 pound body in the air and she felt the head of his rock hard 7 inch cock press against her. She grunted in pleasure as the hot snake invaded her. She took his entire length in and began bouncing up and down the throbbing shaft, while grabbing his pecs for support. “Yeaughn”, Chris groaned, cupping Trisha's firm breasts while she girl stimulated his 7 incher. His balls drew tight and his muscles flexed as his balls exploded. A first volley of cum rocketed through his rock hard shaft and blasted into his girl, soon followed by a second and a third. "Mmuhn", Trisha grunted lustfully as she felt her boyfriend's hot juices blast into her. She kept bouncing up and down the spasming shaft, milking out two more blasts. "Yeaughnn", Chris moaned exhaustedly, his protruding pecs heaving up and down as he took in deep breaths. He pulled in his girl and kissed her deeply as she kept sliding up and down his now softer cock. Trisha felt her boyfriend's 7 incher soften inside her while his strong tongue invaded her mouth. "Muouf", she let out as she climaxed herself, het hot juices flowing along the now half hard cock inside her. Exhausted, she let her delicate, 120 pound body fall against the hard mass of muscle beneath her. Chris felt his girl's juices along his deflating cock and gently stroked her hair as she lay down atop his heaving chest. "Love ya, babe", he whispered in her ear as he carefully lifted her from his dick and installed her against his side, wrapping his thick arm around her in a protective reflex. "Love ya too, hon", Trisha replied as she curled herself in his armpit, resting her head against the hard, hot pec. She slumbered asleep, feeling totally secured aside her 215 pound boyfriend. Chris watched his girl fall asleep, pulled her in closer against his frame, her breath brushing his left nipple and snoozed off himself. Jeremy was still in a grim mood after losing his title at the Detroit-masters the day before. He opened the gym, seeing no clients in the parking lot as usual. He returned to the counter and went through his daily routine of checking the income for his uncle, seeing another decline. "We'll be out of business by the end of next month", he said to himself as he heard the door open. He looked up and saw a big man with a young face, wearing baggy clothes come in. Great, another fatso trying to lose weight, he thought. "Yo", the guy said in a surprisingly deep voice for someone looking that young. "Hello sir", Jeremy replied, tilting his head up to look the guy in the eye, "what can I do for you?". "I'm looking for a place to train", the guy stated, "helped a friend move here and I'll be staying until summer's over. What do you guys charge?". "I'll let you train for free this time and if you're willing to train here, we'll discuss prices after your training", Jeremy said, "Do you need some pointers?". "Na, I've tossed around some weights back in juvy, er at home I mean. Let's see what you guys have here", the guy replied and strutted into the gym. Jeremy watched the guy wander over to the free weights and returned to his own business. He went into his office and continued surfing the net to find a way to beat his rival naturally. An hour later, a loud knock on the door made him look up. "Come in", Jeremy said. The fat young guy stepped into his office and sat down in front of his desk. "I like this place, lots of free weights, if your prices are ok, I'll train here", the guy said. "Glad you like our gym", Jeremy replied, " it's march now and you'll be staying 'till the end of summer, you said. That's six months. Our prices depend on your demands. A minimal membership costs 10 dollars a months, but we offer 10 dollars discount if you pay for six months at once." "50 bucks", the guy stated, "here you go". He pulled out his wallet and put the money on the desk. "Off course there's some paperwork to be done", Jeremy said as he took the money and noticed the size of the guy's hands, "I'll need your name and age first". "Ted Madison, 18 years old", the guy replied. Jeremy blinked as he heard the name. "Related to Chris Madison by any chance?", he asked. "Yeah, I'm his cousin", Ted said, "don't get me started about him. You know him?". "He's my rival in the LTB", Jeremy answered but quickly continued, "height and weight?" "6 feet, 260 pounds, "Ted stated. "260? That's a lot", Jeremy said, "We offer great weight loss programs to get in shape". "I'm not looking to lose weight. I want to compete as a bodybuilder", Ted replied and unzipped his hoodie, taking it off to reveal his torso. Jeremy's eyes widened instantly at the sight. Ted's tank top was stretched to braking point by his protruding chest; veins snaked across his huge arms; his round delts pushed widely outward. Ted grinned at Jeremy's reaction and casually bounced his pecs. "So you're an LTB'er like my cousin", he said, "What do you guys weigh?". "I… mgh", Jeremy cleared his throat as his voice cracked, "he's 215 and I'm 209." "I was around that weight two years ago, at 16", Ted said with a grin and clenched his fists to make his bicep jump. "With the new doping act in place, I also need a urine sample to make sure you're clean", Jeremy said. Ted frowned and folded his arms in front of his chest, making his pecs swell and bulge. "You think I built this body just by taking protein?", he barked. Jeremy looked at the angry teen in front of him, trying not to let his intimidation show on his face as he stared at the bulging pecs and veins snaking across the thick forearms. Before Jeremy could react, Ted his shirt and pulled him over the desk, his feet dangling in the air as he was lifted to eyelevel with the teen beast. "Ever since I was a kid, all the attention in the family was focused on Jeremy", Ted said, "at every family meeting it was Jeremy this and Jeremy that and how great he was doing at school and in sports and how he made the family proud. I never got any attention besides the traditional arm wrestling against him where he would pretend to struggle and then take anyone down…" "I know how it feels to stand in his shadow", Jeremy peeped in the strong grasp. "You have no idea!", Ted belted and shut him up, "I began doing drugs at 14 and ended up in juvy half a year later. One of the youngest kids and only 125 pounds. I was picked on daily by the others. Until I got in touch with a 17 year old that dealt drugs. He offered me some steroids to try and I was hooked. I worked out for hours daily and weighed 180 pounds a few months later. I passed the 215 pound mark at 16 and everyone just left me alone. On my 17th birthday, I got back on my former bullies. They were no match for my 240 pound body, I simply punched the shit out of them. Last month, on my 18th birthday I got out, weighing just over 260 pounds and ready to take on the world. I moved in with the guy that provides my gear." Jeremy looked into Ted's eyes and saw the determination. "Perhaps we could work something out", he said. "Thought so", Ted replied and released his grip, making Jeremy fall with his ass on the wooden desk. "You'll have to be cleanish to compete in the NBC, you'll have to pass the monthly tests so your friend will have to provide you with something undetectable. For here, I'll fill a cup with my urine and pretend it's yours if you help me take your cousin's top spot in the LTB", Jeremy said as he rearranged his shirt. "Getting back on my cousin for ruining my life is high on my list", Ted replied grinningly, "what do you have in mind?". "I need a sweaty shirt of him, as drenched in his sweat as possible for my revenge. Get my that and I will switch the urine sample and let you train here after closing time so your physique doesn't attract attention", Jeremy said. "Consider it done", Ted answered, put on his hoodie and strutted out. The next day Chris and Trisha were unloading the groceries from his car when a deep, yet familiar voice called out Chris' name. Chris looked up and saw a big, young guy in baggy clothes exiting the house next door. "Yo Chris! How ya doin'", Ted said as he strutted over to his cousin. Chris looked up at the 6 feet teen's face and blinked. "Teddy?", he asked incredulously. "It's Ted", the tall teen replied. "Man, you've grown since I last saw you", Chris said as he scanned his cousin's body hidden underneath the baggy clothes. "I thought you were bigger", Ted answered and playfully patted his cousin's muscular shoulder. "That five o'clock beard looks good on you. You live here now?", Chris asked. "Na, helped a friend move here. I'll be spending summer though", Ted replied, "Remember how we used to arm wrestle? How 'bout one for old times?". "Why not?", Chris said, "Come on in and let's see if you've gotten stronger". Ted barely suppressed a grin and followed his cousin inside his house. He greeted Trisha who came from the kitchen as the two cousins sat down at the dinner table. He put his elbow on the table and put out his hand, his physique hidden under his baggy hoodie. Chris had sat down in front of his cousin, put his elbow on the table and grabbed the big hand, his own muscles highlighted by his tight, red shirt. "Ready?", he asked. "What prize are we fighting for?", Ted asked, "a kiss from your girl?". "No way, man", Chris replied. "Afraid to lose?", Ted said with a smirk, "How 'bout winner gets loser's shirt?". "Why not?", Chris answered and winked at his girl standing next to the table. "Ready? Go!", Trisha said. Ted instantly fell that his cousin was no match for him. He saw the veins bulging all over his cousin's right arm as they struggled for superiority. Chris was testing his cousin's defenses and decided to go easy on the guy. He let their hands move from left to right a bit before he started applying more force and gently moved his cousin's hand toward the table. Ted pretended to struggle with the added force and let his cousin move his hand toward the table inch by inch. He kept resisting though, making his cousin fight for every inch. Chris felt his breathing fasten, veins bulging across his engorged 20 inch bicep as he kept pushing his cousin's hand down. Sweat formed on his forehead and his neck, sliding down as he fought against his cousin's resistance. Ted looked his cousin's reddening face and saw more sweat drip down on his shirt, its red fabric was darkening in the armpits. He let his hand move further down toward the table. Chris felt a pump starting the spread across his right pec from the effort; his right bicep pumped passed 20 inches as he summoned more strength for the final push. His red shirt was glued to his back with sweat and hugged his now sweaty pecs tightly. He gritted his teeth, his face reddening some more to end the fight. Ted applied more force and halted his cousin's advance just before his hand made contact with the table. His own arm felt fresh and strong. He playfully tested his cousin and instantly felt that his vein infested, pumped arm was burning out of fuel. He intently reversed the situation very slowly, inching back toward the starting point bit by bit to extend the fight. Chris' eyes widened as he felt his cousin fight back harder. He tried resisting, but he could feel his own strength fade. Sweat now flowed in streams over his dark red face, his shirt glued to his body as his hand retreaded upward. Ted brought their hands back to starting point bit by bit, savoring how his cousin struggled with all his might against his far superior grip; a mild pump only now began to spread across his 25 inch bicep, more because he held back than due to his cousin's resistance. Chris tapped into his last ounce of strength as his cousin pushed him back to starting point. He threw every bit of force in a final attack, sweat dripping from his face onto his now drenched shirt. Ted felt his cousin's final offensive, but his hand didn't budge an inch. Chris couldn't believe their locked hands kept perfectly straight under his force. His eyes widened as he felt the pressure behind his cousin's grip increase. Ted had only slightly upped his power, using only two thirds of the strength his 25 inch bicep could produce. He slowly pushed his cousin's hand past the starting point and down toward the table. Chris fought with everything he got, but he could feel his strength wearing down even more. The pump in his right pec was beyond anything he'd ever felt; his chest heaving up and down on the rhythm of his fast breathing in his sweat drenched shirt; his right bicep, pumped to almost 21 inches, felt like it was going to explode atop his now vein infested arm. Still, his hand was going down inevitably. Ted suppressed another smirk as he felt his cousin's useless resistance. He had dreamed about this day for years in juvy: how he would flatten the star of the family. The feeling of his muscular cousin fighting like a weak kitten against his own steely grasp was far beyond what he had imagined. The thought of toying with the guy that had eclipsed him, filled him with power. The feeling of physically dominating turned him on, making his cock harden in his sweat pants. The resistance his cousin put up, kept fading as their hands passed the last quarter point down to the table. Chris maintained his struggle; or tried to. His 215 pound body felt drained like he had just put it through a grueling workout. He could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears, his chest heaving up and down to suck in oxygen to fuel his muscles. His right bicep felt like it was about to rip from his arm as it crammed up and spasms shot through the worn out muscles in his forearm. Ted felt the spasms shooting through his cousin's forearm, but the arm didn't budge: his own powerful grip prevented the arm from moving. He pushed his cousin's hand down on the table with a thud. "Looks like I win", he said while keeping his hand locked atop his cousin's. "Yeah", Chris grunted, trying to free his hand but the big hand atop didn't move. He pulled a few times, all the while avoiding to look in his cousin's eyes. Ted got up, his hard 10 inch cock outline against his sweatpants, stepped up behind his cousin and pulled off his sweat drenched shirt, "Better not forget my prize". Chris moved his hands protectively against his own chest, feeling strangely vulnerable with the man that had just beaten him behind him and kept staring down at the table. Ted looked down on his cousin's pumped torso, grinning at how small it looked next to his own. "When you're up for a rematch, just let me know, Chrissy", he said, "I'll let myself out. He patted his cousin on his shoulder, turned around and strutted away. "Oh, no! you're our guest. I'll show you out", Trisha said and rushed behind him. She squirmed her delicate body past him, standing between him and the door. Ted quizzically looked down, the dark red shirt on his shoulder. Trisha stood on her toes, grabbing his right bicep for support. She bit her lips as she felt the huge arm under her fingers. "Still owe you a kiss", she whispered and grabbed his neck to pull him down. Ted savored the kiss, invading her mouth at full force. A faint rumble escaped his mouth as he felt her frail fingers grope his hard dick. "Come by anytime you want", she whispered lustfully in his ear and gave his dick a final squeeze before opening the door and letting him out. Ted instantly pulled out his phone when the door closed behind him. "Yo, J? I have it" "Good. Bring it to me ASAP so I can have my revenge". Ted hung up, got in his car and drove off to the gym…

One In a not so distant future, on a planet called ‘Earth’, the world of bodybuilding had undergone a revolution. By the end of the 20th century the sport’s popularity had started declining until reaching a critical, alarmingly low level in the mid 21st century. In 2050, the increasing number of leagues and associations, each with their own champs, resulted in 25 different reigning super-heavyweight-champs, all claiming to be the only true number one. It had gone so far that in the year 2049, 9 different ‘Mister Olympia’-champs had been crowned during 9 alternative ‘Olympia-events’ all held at the same time in different countries; in the US alone, two ‘Olympia’-champs had been crowned (one in new York, the other one in Miami) on the same day… Companies were no longer interested in investing and the number of sponsors began going down. Another, more powerful blow to the image of the sport came in 2051 when the newly created ‘US Isolationist Party’ surprisingly won the elections and indicated the first ever US nationalist president. Unbelievably loyal to his promises, President Edgar Vile signed the US Health-bill. In a concern, or populist inspiration as his opponents called it, Vile had promised that every sport practiced on US territory would be submitted to tests by the USADA, to appeal to the new health-awareness awoken in the late 2030’s. Knowing full well he would need every support he could get to become president, Vile had made a deal with the most popular sports in the US: in return for their help, votes and money, these leagues had obtained a three year truce with the USADA. They were the first to congratulate him after his election and to remind him of their deal. President Vile proved to be a man of his word and ordered the USADA to randomly start testing three sports: soccer, wrestling and bodybuilding. The public cheered the president’s concern for the general health and reacted with disbelief as the first results were made public: none of the 245 tested pro-bodybuilders were natural as they claimed. Every single one of them tested positive for at least one illegal substance; 2 of them had more chemicals in their veins than blood… Even the most popular bodybuilder, the reigning super-heavyweight-champ in three different leagues was stripped from his titles as he tested positive on HGH, insulin, clenbuterol and trenbolone. During a press conference, the champ was apologizing to the public, saying that someone must have put the stuff in his drink to frame him when all hell broke loose: someone flung a shoe at his face, several disillusioned fans stormed the stage, dragged the 330 pound, contest ready man from his chair and lynched him in front of the cameras. The fallen champ barely got away, his faces a bloody, swollen mess and his body covered in bruises. The sport’s last credibility disappeared down the drain as the champ left the stage under a rain of insults and more shoes… Activist groups jumped on the occasion. A new one, “mams against roids”, organized daily protests in front of gyms and health stores all across the US. Images of hysteric women busting into gyms and chasing gymgoers while hitting them with their purses or charging into health stores and trashing the aisles were on the news daily. It reached a climax as over 750,000 mothers demonstrated in the streets of Washington, burning a huge pile of supplements in front of the White House. Bodybuilding contests were cancelled by lack of sponsors and constant ‘mams against roids’-attacks, gyms were closing as rapidly as they had opened in the late 1990’s, supplement stores and manufacturers were quickly going out of business in this atmosphere. The bankruptcy of several large supplement companies and the ongoing riots began endangering the economy and President Vile decided to take action. He organized a large meeting to restore order. Together with the head of the USADA, the leader of “mams against roids”, representatives of the supplement industry and the leaders of the three remaining bodybuilding federations, he reached an agreement to alter the sport. From 2052 on, there would be only two clearly separated bodybuilding leagues : the League of True Bodybuilders (LTB) and the National Bodybuilding Committee (NBC). The LTB would have a zero tolerance for supplements; it would be natural bodybuilding in which the contestants would not be allowed to take any supplement at all and would be tested every week. The NBC on the other hand would regroup the existing leagues and its athletes would be allowed to use supplements and would only be tested once a month. All previously tested bodybuilders caught with illegal substances in their blood were banned for life from the sport and would face jail time (this was the only way to make “Mams against roids” sign the agreement). Upon agreement with all parties, President Vile quickly signed the “Body Bill” and peace returned gradually to the US. A few years went by and things followed their natural course: the NBC simply took over the existing bodybuilding scene, with less heavy athletes (the reigning super-heavyweight-champ took his crown standing at 232 pounds; everyone knew the athletes still took banned substances but the abuse had been controlled by the monthly tests. The NBC never regained the big successes of the past, but was able to produce a series of uncontested champs. The LTB on the other hand struggled to take its place in the world of sports: the physiques of the all-natural athletes were simply unimpressive compared to the images of roided-up bodybuilders and fitness models that had brainwashed to public since the early 21st century. Despite its simple structure, there were only two categories, based on height (one class for those up to 5’6 and another class for those taller than 5’6)the league lacked impact on the public and charismatic champs. This changed in the early 2060’s: in 2062 the OIC announced that bodybuilding would be part of the upcoming 2065 Olympics in Los Angeles. Only LTB-athletes would be allowed to participate if they met the criteria. The LTB-president used the news to drastically alter the calendar of his sport. He had been inspired by the world of tennis and introduced an entirely new system: the competition would be divided in three categories of events (4 master-events, 10 level-1-events, 30 level-2-events and a tour championship-event at the end of the season with only the top eight competitors) where the contestants would receive points according to their placing, based on these points a global ranking would be made. This ranking would serve as a base to divide the athletes during the events: the top 4 heads-of-series would be placed in different quarters and could only meet in the semi-finals; the numbers 1 and 2 could only meet in the finals. Instead of the traditional prejudging and judging of the NBC, the LTB would allow the public to see their favorite in action on several days during an event, each with its own poses and routines. At first, the public responded very little to these technical proposals but once they got the system the LTB flourished like never before, sending its revenues through the roof by the new amount of tickets that were sold for the different stages and because even the level-2-events always managed to get a top competitor on stage among the local heroes. This, and the uprising of two charismatic young champions. It was in this context that the rivalry of Jeremy “Jerry” Bain and Chris Madison unfolded in 2063. At the age of 23, Jeremy combined his career with a job as personal trainer in the gym owned by his uncle. For the past two years, he had been competing mostly in level-2-events, trying to get his ranking up and get access to the level-1- and master-events. At the end of the 2062-season, he had finally managed to get through the qualifiers for the San Francisco-masters. His 5’8, 191 pounds physique had taken him through the quarters, where he had surprisingly won his lineup by beating the world number 3 who was coming back after injury, into the semis; there his body had been no match for the world number 1 and reigning SF-master-champion, the 10 pound difference had been too obvious. His performance had pushed his ranking up from 23 to 8, giving him direct access to the lineup of the upcoming top events. This made him train even harder during the off-season, gaining 5 more pounds to tackle the 2063-season. Chris Madison was a year younger than Jeremy and had first gotten his degree in nutrition and sports. He had heard the news about the Olympics and had registered for an LTB-license. His body was naturally muscular thanks to his excellent genetics (his grandfather on his mother’s side had been a four times “Mister Olympia” heavyweight-champ back in his days) and he had built a fine physique by lifting weights through high school and college. At 5’7 and brushing 200 pounds, he decided to have a go at natural bodybuilding and enlisted for a local level-2-event. A smile formed on Chris’ face as he entered on stage for the quarterfinals (first round) on Friday night and heard his friends in the public cheer his name. He stood next to his three competitors in his blue boxers (posers were not allowed by LTB rules). Despite being the shortest guy on stage, he clearly out sized his rivals. They went through the mandatory poses and turns and Chris was declared winner and proceeded to the semis. The semis were held on Saturday night and this time there were even more locals to cheer for Chris. He winked at his girlfriend on the first row as he strutted out on stage. He looked at the other side of the podium to see his opponent walking up to him in the center to face the public and judges. Chris was up against head-of-series number 2, the number 15 of the world ranking. The athletes respectfully nodded at each other and went through the first part of the semis: four quarter turns that allowed the judges to inspect their physiques from different angles. Chris out sized his opponent by a good 15 pounds and was way more shredded: his six-pack rippled under his thin, untanned, pale skin, highlighting the grooves between the rows of cobbles. By the time they began the three mandatory poses, both athletes knew the contest was already over. His friends and the rest of the crowd cheered as Chris bested the guy in each pose: his ab vacuum accentuated his impressive v-taper; his most muscular drew cuts and lines all over his body; and his signature pose (the back double bicep) simply squashed the other guy: the mounds of muscle on his back flowed like cut waves of mass into each other leading up to his broad, rounded shoulders; his strong triceps filled out his arms and the nice peaks of his biceps, pushing up a thick vein completed the picture. The judges unanimously let him through to the finals. Chris shook hands with his opponent, greeted the audience and left the stage with a large smile. The final was held on Sunday afternoon and the room was completely full, people even sat in the aisles to see their local hero. Chris felt the stress throughout his muscular, 199 pound body as he put on his blue, elastic boxers. He took in a deep breath before strutting out on stage. The crowd exploded in cheers but he focused on his waiting opponent. He would have to beat the head-of-series number 1, the world number 5. As they nodded at each other, Chris took in his opponent: the guy was taller (around 6’, he guessed) and looked about the same weight as him. They went through the traditional quarter turns and the judges were clearly doubting, discussing as they pointed at parts of the athletes’ physiques. The mandatory poses were replaced by an actual pose down for the final: the athletes got 10 minutes to out-pose each other. His rival instantly went for his own ‘money shot’ and threw an impressive most muscular. Chris copied the pose, looking slightly less intimidating, and let it flow into an ab vacuum. Here, his shorter build gave him a slight advantage: his strong shoulder line appeared broader than that of his taller opponent. Chris took charge, upping his pace and also flexed his quads: grooves appeared between the hard muscles that beefened on his legs. Once more, his opponent’s longer limbs seemed a tad smaller. Chris relaxed and turned around. He flared his lats, accentuating his broad back and extended his arms next to him. He raised them teasingly slowly until they were parallel to the floor. He then brought them in for his own ‘money shot’: his back double bicep-pose put the icing on the cake. The public yelled his name as the judges ended the 10 minute pose down. Both athletes turned around, anxious for the result. The room exploded with joy as Chris was announced as the winner. His opponent shook his hand and added “You’ll go far in our sport, kid” before leaving the stage. Chris beamed with pride as he lifted his trophy in the air. His first prize also included a wildcard for the upcoming Detroit-masters the next month and made him climb to number 53 on the new ranking. Jeremy continued his slow process to the top. He had worked hard during the off season and felt that his moment was near. He entered a level-1-event, but lost the final to the reigning world number 1. The next level-2-events he competed in, he was the first head-of-series and he twice claimed the victory, propelling his ranking up to number two of the world. He couldn’t wait for the Detroit-masters to begin; he would claim his first ever master-event title and dominate his sport. The Detroit-masters began and with the larger list of competitors in those events, an additional round was added, during which the first four heads-of-series didn’t have to compete. Chris convincingly won his group and came up against the number three in the world in his quarter final. He bested the guy, his back double bicep-pose doing the trick once more (he had worked hard on his arms and back, making his bicep reach 18 inches when flexed). In the semis he was up against the number one and reigning Detroit-masters-champ. His showdown never took place though: the world number one had to forfeit because of sudden illness (a few days later the news of his positive drug test came out, explaining this case of sudden flu). Chris couldn’t care less: he was through to the finals of his first major event. On the other side of the draw, Jeremy rolled up the competition to advance to the final. He knew the title was his to take with the only guy to beat him recently out of the competition. 750 fans filled the room for the big final on a sunny Sunday afternoon. They cheered as the speaker called the finalists on stage. Jeremy couldn’t suppress a grin as he entered and greeted the audience: he knew his moment to shine had come. He turned aside as his opponent stepped on stage and came up to him. At 5’8 Jeremy looked slightly down into Chris’ eyes. Instead of nodding, he bounced his strong pecs, making striations and veins cross the hard surface, and turned his back to his rival. Chris was thrown slightly off balance by his opponent’s display and noticed the personalized black boxers (marked ‘Jerry’) as Jeremy turned his well muscled back to him. He quickly discarded the thoughts as the judges urged both of them to take their position. The final began with the mandatory quarter turns. Jeremy was 3 pounds lighter than his rival, but his greater experience and more shredded body stood out from the start. He didn’t even wait for the head judge to announce the second round to start the pose down. He began with a side tricep, showcasing the thick horseshoe-shaped muscle at the back of his arm while also accentuating the striations of his thick chest. Chris followed the lead, copying the pose. Jeremy already continued into a front bicep leading up to a most muscular. His 17.5 inch arms balled up into nice round orbs with veins before he lowered his arms to showcase his magnificent torso: his pecs hardened between the masses of his biceps atop his cut six-pack. Chris hurried into his own most muscular, finally adjusting to his rival’s pace. The difference was clear to the judges: Chris had clearly neglected his front side to build his back poses. A larger grin formed on Jeremy’s face as he noticed the judges’ behavior. He turned around for his final pose and threw a back double bicep. Chris copied the pose and here he was the best: the mounds of muscle on his back aesthetically flowed into each other and his broad shoulder highlighted his thin waist, crowned by the shaped peaks of his 18 inch biceps. The head judge ended the pose down and Jeremy was crowned as the new Detroit-masters-champion. Jeremy thanked the audience and stressed how easy this victory had been for him and that he would now dominate his sport as the new number one of the world. Part of the audience booed after his speech and cheered as Chris humbly greeted them as the new number 12 of the world. The season continued, but not as Jeremy had expected it. He won 3 of the 10 level-1-events and 5 more level-2-events and reached the final of the other three master-events. Chris’ winning streak began at a minor level-2-event in Las Vegas, a month after his loss to Jeremy in Detroit. He had worked to bring up his front side muscle groups and ever since he’d won 7 level-2-events and 5 level-1-events. But he had also claimed the title in the three master-events, besting Jeremy in each final. At the end of the season he also claimed the tour finals, the official world championship of the LTB and overtook Jeremy’s number 1 spot in the rankings…

Here's the original from 2 years ago! Part 1: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1556-my-dad-is-a-big-boy-re-post/ Part 2: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1560-my-dads-boy-is-a-big-boy/ Part 3: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1569-my-dads-boy-is-a-man/ Part 4: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1595-my-dad-is-a-secret-holder/ Part 5: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1596-my-dad-is-a-cum-fountain/ Part 6: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1606-my-dad-is-a-room-wrecker/ Part 7: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/5904-my-dads-a-growing-boy-original-part-7/ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My eyes never left the size of my massive grandfather as he drank another large mug of beer, his large hand holding it as though it were nothing more than the lightest coffee cup. Dad had never spoken of his father before. Not even when he talked about our late grandmother. Still, I could instantly tell it was him as he showed off the family eyes. Questions followed in my mind as to why he had come and why how he had come without being seen on the news. I was picturing the news channel revealing photos of a giant riding a motorcycle just before a big muscled paw snapped in my face. "You still there, short stack?" he said as he put his mug down, making it a goal to avoid destroying his new one like he did the previous one. " I can understand you're shocked to hear that you have a grandfather but I don't wanna crack your noggin'" he said, his deep voice making what little beer was left in his mug shake. I swallowed as I tried to say something but had trouble getting the words out. I felt a big hand pat me on the back, causing me to almost fall off my stool. " Come on, shorty" he said as he tried to wake me up. suddenly, he grabbed me by the shoulders and, before I knew it, I was being lifted up off the stool to view the handsome face my grandfather owned. I felt myself melt as I looked into those eyes. Against any thoughts I might have had, the man in front of me was just too beautiful to look away from. My shoed feet were dangling in the air although he was sitting on a stool, the friction between my shoes and Grandpa James' large muscled gut sending intense chills up my spine. My cock was up to its rock hard 10 inches again and was in clear view for Grandpa James from my tented pants. When he saw it, a handsome, white smile went across his large and rugged face. " You youngun's are such an energetic folk, aint'cha?" he said as he looked back up at me, my body still hanging high in the air by his massive hands. " I'd fix it for your hot, little ass but I got to go see your dad" he said. Dad, I thought, what would he want with him after this many years? " Can you take me to your pop, shorty?" he asked as he held me like a toddler in his arms. I couldn't find a way to say no. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was hard for me to get back to the mansion without losing concentration. James couldn't fit in Jeff's extra large Hummer or else he would risk his head busting through the roof of the car (Made sense since he was standing at 24 feet tall and bulging at around 22 feet wide like a wall). In order to prevent this, he decided that, although he would have liked some time to get to know his little grand son, it would be much safer and less costly to drive his own motorcycle. Watching him drive was a real spectacle. No one would expect to see 24 foot giant driving around on a giant motorcycle with so much mass in tow. I was hard the entire way to the mansion. When we reached the door to the mansion, I had trouble getting myself to enter. It wasn't just because it was a heavy door but because I was worried about how dad would respond to his father coming back into our lives after more than 50 years. James leaned down and reached for my little ass, giving it a good squeeze with his fingers. I jumped forward with a start as I felt the intensely hot pain shooting through my ass. My crotch was just asking for me to rub off but instead I pushed through the doors. "SQUIRT!" I heard someone roar from the kitchen. I was taken aback as the ground began to quake from something big and fast coming to the front door. I felt myself leaking pre as I just I saw dad coming towards me like a rampaging wall. He was clad in nothing but an extremely tight looking red unitard that looked like the smallest stretch would cause it to tear. The basket was packed as it tried to contain all of the man that was my dad. It was like a second skin as I saw the big head peek over the pair of giant wrecking balls and try to stretch downward. Every muscle was in bold as dad moved, the muscles and veins tensing every time he tried to shift his weight. His bulging pecs were too high for the chest area of the tight material so the two bulging forms simply spilled over it, the two nipples just barely being covered by the tight straps. I was paralyzed as my mountain of a father came lumbering towards. He was a roaming muscle god in my eyes, coming down from his high heaven to show his presence to a mere mortal. I really took everything into perspective as he came fully upon me, merely a couple feet from where I stood and towering above me even more so. I knew that if I were to turn around and look at Dad and James with me in between them, I would experience claustrophobia from being in such an enclosed covering. "Hey there, little guy" dad bellowed as he kneeled down to reach my head and ruffled my black hair. He looked back up and behind me, indicating that he was looking at James. " Who might this be?" he said with a confused look on his face. I could tell that, in his eyes, this large man was a familiar face from long ago. I took a deep breath as I composed myself to form an answer. Dad, taking advantage of my silence, extended a massive hand to the opposing giant. " Hi, I'm John's dad" Dad said in an attempt to introduce himself. The gray haired beast took an equally massive paw and shook dad's hand. From my perspective, it looked like some kind of form was falling and rising above me like an object on a high shelf. It was during this moment that James spoke up with his timber, deep voice. " Hi, I'm your dad." The room seemed to move still for a moment as if nothing in the universe was sure how to proceed. I continued to look up at the two big men and that's when I saw it. The two hands being extended were in a tense battle, veins and muscle bulging against more veins and muscle as a battle for supremacy clearly began. " Well look who it is, squirt" Dad said with a deeper voice than normal, his anger evident and extremely noticeable. " It's the good ol' dead beat that left your poor grams" he said as his arm flexed fiercely. James' expression went from greeting to a wicked smile as the handshake continued. " I see you've been a good boy since I was gone" he said snidely. This was the point that drove Dad home as he raised his other big and hairy fist, one still in a handshake, and sent it flying towards James. At first James looked as if he was deciding whether to move but decided against it. With an explosion of sound, the powerful knuckles of my big dad collided with James' face. We were all shocked as James' smile grew bigger. His face hadn't moved an inch from it's position before, during, or after the punch. His blue eyes looked fierce as he looked into dad's. " Is that it, Jacob?" he asked, using dad's name. Quickly, he grabbed the big hand belonging to dad and formed a grip around it. " You could use a little more protein for your diet if you're gonna throw that weak of a punch" he said. In the middle of the tension, I thought I saw something that looked extremely familiar coming from James as a large wet spot began to form in the big and weighty pouch in his straining black pants. " And your supposed to be the Titan I helped create" he said with a trembling but powerful voice. Before my very eyes, I saw the knuckles of my grandfather expand around dad's, slowly outgrowing the opposing force it was holding. Everything about James was growing as he held dad in both a punch and a handshake. " Your mom didn't give you some manners, huh?" he said in a very authoritative way. " We'll fix that" The look on dad's face became pained as I could tell his knucles were being crushed under the power of his father, his knuckles cracking as he began to lose strength against the growing power against him. James' forearms became more and more pronounced in their tight leather jacket case. The biceps the jacket was trying to hold were quickly expanding too, making them resemble a big, growing black balloon. I jumped as I felt something kick my ankle. An enormous contained foot was growing bigger right next to me and popping the seams of the shoes that were suffering an onslaught of surprise growth spurts. James' gut grew bigger and hovered over me like a large muscle blimp, the hairy texture, trailing to his pants. Rips and tears were showing all over his body. James' head was inching higher and higher, surpassing dad's with ease and going higher still. Like building a wall, he became wider and wider, his shoulders spreading farther away from his expanding head and his gut pushing farther forward, making it harder to grab hold of dad's hand and fist. Suddenly, everything tore all at once in a chorus of shredding that left granddad in nothing but a pair thread bare black briefs. I was leaking from that surprisingly big reservoir of jizz that I seemed to always be expending. I was now shorter than James' knee and continued to appear tinier as he grew larger and larger. Dad fell to one knee, nearly falling on me as he found it difficult to avoid surrendering to the powerful hands holding him. His face was being stuffed with muscle and gut fur that seemed to be pressing more and more firmly into him, actually denting his steel-like muscles. His field of testosterone that always seemed to keep me of intoxicated was becoming inferior to the one expanding in front of him. I could tell dad was starting to look almost as enveloped as me when I saw his massive cock leap. " Backing down, pup?" James said with a beastly voice. It looked as if Dad was going to surrender when he suddenly smashed a titanic foot against the ground in a powerful STOMP that left cracks across the floor. "NO" he roared with renewed power, his entire body tensing as he tried to fight back. It was my mistake to think Dad was tensing his muscles as I watched them bounce with his power. I could see his body reddening slightly as everything swelled with new power. Dad was growing right now! I could hear his groaning and moaning as he swelled, his accelerating growth beginning to tip the scale between him and his father. The unitard he'd been wearing was stretching in response to dad but was failing quickly as it became too much to contain. With new power, Dad stood back up and fought James' grip. Muscle was filling the room as Dad and James grew at top speed, both of them rocketing in height. Their pecs were now pressed firmly against each other, along with their astounding cocks. As they both broke the 30 foot mark, I felt the ground shake as their power became faster and faster. For an instant, this caused James to flinch as he saw his son grow far faster than he ever thought possible. " You really are an irregular Titan" he said as his muscles began to shake against Dad's. It was too much power for him and his limited growth to take as he felt his knees buckle under so much power against him. I fell to the floor as Dad broke 36 feet and James broke 33. It was becoming clear dad was winning but he wasn't done. " Whats the matter, pup?" he roared as his body continued to grow. James fell to his knees as he quivered against the mighty power of his almighty son. His body was big and rippling but it was nothing compared to dad as his body seemed to show no limits. His growth slowed when he reached 42 feet but his grip remained blindingly powerful. James was on his knees as he tried to push back against the power and failed. " WHAT DO YOU COME FOR, YOU OLD FUCK?" Dad roared. James looked back up at Dad with pained eyes. " I wanted to see my un-fathered son before his destiny was fulfilled" James said as he continued to maneuver in his son's powerful grip. Dad let go as he heard the last words come from his own father's mouth. " Destiny? What destiny?" Dad asked. James rubbed his wrists as he stood up, standing more than 10 feet shorter than his towering son. " Bet you always wondered why I was never there." This remark pulled Dad out of his puffed state. James looked more comfortable after he saw the calmed giant. " Swell, now I can size down" he said. Right before our eyes, James shrank down like a sponge losing water, returning to his original 24 feet. James looked at me and Dad with a concerned face as he saw the surprised expressions we were showing. " What? Never seen someone shrink down to normal form before? You can do it too right, Jacob?" Dad's face was blank as he tried to comprehend what he was hearing. " No." Jacob's eyes widened. " So it's true. You're on an elevator that doesnt go down" he marveled. Dad's brow wrinkled. " What exactly are you?" Dad asked with concern. James made a deep sigh as he prepared to explain. " Us titans are supposed to be able to shrink down to a size between normal and huge. 24 feet is my norm, sonny" he said as he looked down at me and flexed. " It's decided at birth how small we're able to get and, as we get older, we can grow larger and more powerful with training. Normally, you wont be able to get any smaller than when you were 18. You were able to grow at will right?" he asked unknowingly. When Dad explained to him his condition, James didn tseem to be blinking his beautiful blue eyes. " So that's how it's going to be done. You cant shrink or growth at will unless your body triggers it for you. Which means..... you'll reach the destiny of the Irregular Titan." he said. I was still absorbing the information but I couldn't help but ask him. " What is this Irregular Titan." James looked at me as if I were some kind of alien. " The titans are a race of male growing giants with the power to control their growth and turn on other males around them. 'Course, they ain't supposed to get as big as your dad unless they never stop training" James said as he looked up at Dad, his vantage point of almost 20 feet fully setting in. " Normally, we start out as large children and then we get a few growth spurts before we get a switch in the body letting us turn it on and off." At this comment, James pointed at dad. " Your dear old pa here has the switch stuck on grow and can't stop it. Meaning his growth limit is...... limitless" A silence went through us as everything was being explained in black and white for me and Dad. Just before I could ask, Jeff walked in. " Hey, pop! Who's at the door!" he called to Dad as he walked in, standing at his new height of 10 feet tall. He stopped in his tracks before he looked at the large man in the room. " Who is this guy?" he asked as he walked up to an enlarged dad without any kind of notice. James raised an eyebrow. "Who are you, kid?" he asked as if something were amiss. Jeff looked at James with confused look also. " Who else? I'm his son" Jeff said, pointing to dad. James went white as a muscle covered and veined sheet, looking to me. " No shit..." "So we've got a defect in the family too." Dad was the first one to respond to this remark. "What do you mean defect?" James took a moment to speak as he fully concentrated on me. " I'm hoping it's nothing as long as your sons aren't 18 yet. Otherwise, it looks like you've got a kid who doesn't have a prayer on being a Titan."

Part 1: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/4480-how-to-make-the-rugby-team-part-1/ Sorry this took so long but this has got growth and fucking and wrestling so get over it *** Stephen got up the next morning feeling beefier than ever. He'd grown further still over night and was feeling up his own body yet again. He must have eaten a little too much to go to the muscle serum and he was even feeling thicker, softer pecs, just overall bigger. He found that barely any of the clothes he owned fit any more. They were tight around the chest and arms so before Stephen made his way to the gym he thought he'd have a little fun. He picked out a bunch of shirts, button up, short sleeved and stood in front of his full length mirror. He slipped each on one, pulling his body into this much tighter attire. He flexed his triceps and watched them ripple in and out of his sleeves, straining with each push. He then rose both his arms up into a double bi and blam! They ripped, each one, bursting open and letting his biceps out. Grabbing the shirt by its front he pulled forward and it ripped down the back, his lats spreading outward. All this power make Stephen feel great but he had to keep it in for now or he was going to be late. He slipped compression shorts, stretch tight, over his thickening thighs and throbbing cock before putting a singlet on up top. He wouldn't want to be late for coach. *** Stephen walked through the gym to his coach's office. The rest of the boys were deep in concentration, running laps around the gym. He wasn't sure if he should join in when the coach stuck his head out of the door and welcomed him. "Come in boy" Stephen sat down in the chair in front of coach's desk. Coach walked around wearing a tight pair of shorts, showing off those thick buns. He looked a little bigger from yesterday, Stephen would swear. Leaning on the desk he looked Stephen up and down. "Flex for me" "Sorry Coach?" "I said flex for me, come on." Stephen did. He pulled his arms into a double bicep pose before standing up and turning around to show off his back. He pulled his arms down and puffed up his chest to show of his triceps. He then went into a most muscular and looking down on himself he could help but get a semi. It wasn't helped when coach put his hand on his chest and started running it over his nipples. Moving back into a bicep pose coach felt up those too before standing back. "Good work kid, you look good" Coach grinned "You'll get there soon enough" Stephen was kind of disappointed with that but he knew what he meant. Looking back through the windows at the boys out there he knew what coach meant. Looking back he saw that coach, with his back to him, was disrobing. "Coach, do you want some privacy" "Aw shut up Stephen, we're all men here." We certainly were. As coach pulled down his shorts he revealed a pair of soft but chiselled cheeks, and as he bent further a tight hairy hole. Stephen's semi was quickly growing. Coach pulled of his shirt just as sensually before throwing it aside. He then pulled out a singlet, tight and white which he slipped over his beefy bod. Once it was all up he turned around to Stephen who was quickly trying to readjust himself. "So we're wrestling today" "What, why?" "It's a good way to practice tackling. And it's a great workout" As coach said this Stephen was transfixed on a thick bulge swaying back and forth "Have you worked out yet?" "Not since last night" "Oh so you've got room to grown then. Good. Afraid we haven't got another singlet for you but there's some cotton shorts in clothes bin, just throw them on, I'll see you out there." Stephen rifled through the bin full of sweaty, musky clothing until he found a pair of shorts he liked. They were tight and full of holes; they'd be perfect. He slipped off his compression pants which now had pre-cum wet spots, and put the shorts on over his jock. He then headed out coach's door. Out in the gym he noticed the rest of the men had changed in the mean time. God damn, he was sad to have missed that. But what lay before him was still a site for sore eyes. A bunch of thick, thick men, with huge chests and sometimes wide waists all fit into wrestling singlets. Coach began to command the room. "Okay men, you know the drill: pair up and let's get down to business" He blew his whistle. Everyone scrambled into pairs and Stephen felt lost. At home he felt huge but hear he felt small. Then he felt dwarfed as the top of chest suddenly fell into site. It was Mark. Stephen was taller than yesterday for sure but Mark seemed taller still. He was huge all over with biceps like steel, huge pecs over a set of soft, protruding abs. "Guess we'll be partners then" Mark grinned. Coach blew the whistle again and they assumed positions. As they began Mark quickly over-powered Stephen, pinning him to the ground. Stephen didn't let this phase him. It was barely a fair fight to begin with but he felt stronger than ever. "I'm gonna take your ass" Mark growled as he leant over Stephen. Stephen didn't mind that at all. Again they began to wrestle, their bodies entwined, rubbing against each other. Pushing against Mark, Stephen felt himself grow; underneath his skin his muscles stretching further outward. Mark kept over-powering him in the end but each match got longer and longer still as Stephen felt himself get taller, get thicker. He looked deep into Mark's eyes as their arms locked and he watched Mark's muscle tremble under his singlet, groaning in resistance. They'd roll together on the floor, pushing each other down until suddenly Stephen heard a rip. His pants tore right down the ass and fell to the floor. He was left in just a jock and singlet but he felt the top could go. Standing up from a squat he pulled it off and threw it to the side. He looked down over himself and knew he was bigger. Mark was smirking across from him, and he followed suit, pulling his singlet down over his body until it was resting around his waist. His nipples were round and hard, his chest covered with thick dark fur. They again grappled with each other. Stephen's cock was beyond hard and he could see that Mark's was beginning to poke out the end of the singlet's short legs. This was the power Stephen mustered to push Mark to the ground. He rolled him over onto his back and pressed his body up against his thick ass. Pulling his arm back he admired the thick back that lay before him. He ground himself into Mark and whispered down into his ear: "I can take your ass too." The coach's whistle blew. "Okay boys good hustle! Hit the showers and I'll see you all tomorrow" *** Mark and Stephen separated after their match, Mark striding forward to the showers as if he wanted nothing to do with his partner. Stephen took no notice, he thought he must be embarrassed to get topped by the rookie but it was no big deal; Stephen felt stronger than ever. He stripped off his jockstrap as he got in the shower and washed himself. With soap and water he wiped away the sweat and grime of rolling around on the gym floor, working his hands over his body, admiring his much larger muscles as they glistened under the water. His ass truly was something amazing. That's where he figured all he ate must have gone. He shook it in his hands and watch how soft yet firm and thick it was. He slapped it. That was loud. He went back to washing himself when he was slapped again, but it wasn't his hand this time. His ass was grabbed, a thick handful taken. He was pushed up against the shower wall. "I think you want this, don't you rookie?" It was Mark. "Do you think you can come out on top? I think it's my turn, don't you?" Stephen looked backed and deep into Mark's eyes. "Fuck me." They went into a deep kiss, tongues rolling together as they did on the gym floor earlier. They were embracing each other, Mark pressing his body against Stephens, pressing Stephen's against the wall. Their dicks were rock hard, Stephen's very quickly springing to life, Mark's now leaking with pre-cum. How long had he been watching for? They rubbed together and as Stephen left their embrace he took to it quick. He began to work Mark's cock well, sucking it deep down his throat. It was thick and vascular like the rest of him, and it gave Stephen's mouth a stretch. "Fuck Mark" Stephen took his mouth off "You knew I wanted this?" "How could I not, you couldn't keep your eyes off me" Mark took Stephen's head in hand and pushed him back onto his cock "Plus you're the rookie: you gotta help captain out." Stephen slurped up Mark's cock some more, working his full lips over the head and shaft into his throat and back out. Mark groaned in ecstasy, but Stephen wanted more. Stephen groped at Mark's chest as he sucked, flicking at his nipples and working his pecs in his hands. Mark began to bounce them as he did and he smiled. He flexed revealing the thickest fucking biceps that you could imagine. Reaching up he grabbed them and worked them in his arms. Stephen returned to the nipples as he pulled off Mark's cock, sucking them and taking Mark's chest into his mouth. Mark gasped. Stephen pull him in and whispered in his ear "You promised you'd take my ass" Mark was quick to turn him around and push him down against the wall. Mark was working his cock around Stephen's hole before he thought he'd return the favour. Plus that ass was hard to resist. He got down on his knees and pushed his face into Stephen's crack, licking up and down this tight hole. As he stuck his tongue in Stephen groaned deep and began to work his own cock as it leaked pre-cum down its shaft. Mark got up and pressed himself into Stephen, cock riding up his crack. He kissed Stephen's neck as he pushed his cock slowly in. Stephen's back arched to take it, pushing his ass further still, the bubble butt looking like a pair of beach balls riding down Mark's cock. Mark brought his hands around and with one worked the nips on Stephen's newly thick chest and the other working down Stephen's curved cock. He thrust back and forth, faster and faster as Stephen groaned louder and louder still "OH FUCK MARK!" He was riding Stephen hard and Stephen loved it. They quickly changed position so that Mark was sitting on the bench and Stephen was bouncing up and down on this hard, thick cock. His own cock bounced as this happened, hitting against his abs. All this sensation built up in Stephen to a breaking point. He arched his back once more as his dick twitched and began to spurt thick ropes of cum into the air. They hit the opposite wall and his own chest as he bounced, cumming further more as Mark continued to fuck him hard. Then Mark pulled him off and lay him on the bench on his back. Mark, thick and hairy, was looming over him, cock in hand. His pecs bounced as he worked his cock to completion, his biceps squirming as he pushed his dick to cum. Mark followed Stephen in spilling himself over Stephen's chest, and into his mouth. Stephen licked it up. Mark leant onto Stephen's chest and licked his nips clean before leaning back in a slump. "Fuck, I think you'll make a perfect addition to the team". Just then the door swung open. Stephen, covered in cum, stood up instinctively. It was coach. "See me in my office now" [TO BE CONTINUED]

Alright - part 2 is here, and it's here just to introduce some of the characters I'll be playing around with later. I guess, thanks for reading and - well, hope you like it. Part 1 here: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/4927-growth-powder-part-1/ ///// Next morning, Max woke up to a rumbling stomach. He lay in bed for a few moments, thinking of breakfast. Some scrambled eggs, bread – and a good cold glass of orange juice. It was decided, that is what he was going to eat. He lazily got up, scratching his wide, strong back, as he headed to the toilet. After getting ready for the day, he went downstairs and started preparing breakfast. His parents had already gone to work, so it was up to him to make himself some food. He got out the eggs, and prepared them quickly, with the bread and everything else he wanted to eat, sausages, ham, and bacon – he was particularly hungry that morning. He scavenged the fridge for his favorite orange juice, but was disappointed when he didn’t find it. He thought for a moment, and then he remembered the powder he had found yesterday. Quickly he got a big, tall glass of water and mixed in some of the green powder, and started eating. After he had totally scraped all the plates clean and left his glass empty – he put on a pair of jeans, sneakers, a white t-shirt that had a symbol of his favorite band on it – the “O” and he headed out. He got on the bus, and looked around for his friend Jim, he found him and sat next to him. “Hey dude.” Max said, looking at Jim. Jim was a tad shorter and smaller than Max, but was also on the soccer team, so he was fairly athletic as well, but not as much as Max, Jim took it more casually, though he did like the sport – so Max thought at least. “Sup?” Jim said. “Not much dude, like, it’s Monday, so should be kinda just… tired, but, I’m not really.” “Whatdaya mean?” “I don’t know man, it’s like, I feel full of like energy.” “That’s great dude, lucky we have gym class first – so you can like, I don’t know, blow off some steam, I guess.” They talked for a while, and eventually arrived to school. With gym class first they headed to the locker room. On his way there, Max noticed something was a bit off with his jeans, they felt a bit tighter today, and he couldn’t really understand why. Other than that, he felt great, he was ready to use up some of this energy he had. They got into the locker room, and started changing. In there, there were a few other guys like Alex and Nathan, another guy on the soccer team with Max. Nathan was the captain of the team, he was a bit bigger than Max, and taller too, standing at a big 6 foot 3. And Alex was the standard nerdy type. As you might expect he was the tiniest guy in the room, standing at a respectable 5’6’’ a scrawny, friendly dude. As Max took his shirt off, Nathan approached him, slapping him on the back: “Look at you man, you’ve been putting on some mass?” Max looked down on himself, then smirked: “Hm, guess I have.” He said, flexing his large, almost 16 inch bicep. “Wow, I’ve really grown, then again I’ve been like, working like crazy lately. Guess it’s finally paying off.” “Good for you man.” Nathan said, smiling at him. “Yeah.” Jim added, then they started talking about something, then they all saw John enter the locker room. He was a bit late. He greeted everyone and started to change into gym clothes. John was about Max’ size, he was very athletic, yet no one quite knew what sport he played, if he played any sport at all. He was also kind of a jerk, so the other guys kinda talked to him on a mandatory basis. They, along with the rest of the class went into the gym. Today, they were playing basketball, Nathan and Max got to pick their teams. Nathan picked first, getting Jim and John on his team, along with the rest of the class that was any good. So, Max was stuck with Alex and his type, but he didn’t really mind. They played. Max gave it his best, by the end of it he was covered in sweat, his face red with exertion, but, even though he was really, really good – and even better today, he couldn’t have beaten the entire opposing team on his own. They lost 20 to 46, Max was annoyed, but kept telling himself that it was just a friendly game. “Oh. My. God. Man – we WRECKED you!” John shouted in the locker room, as Jim and Nathan laughed. ‘Why are they laughing? What is up with them?’ Though Max, as he took off his shirt, frowning at John. “Dude, relax. It’s like, just a game.” “Yeah – but we still kicked your asses.” “I like, I don’t care man.” “Ooh, what’s the matter?” John started. “Grumpy cuz you lost a whittw gawme?” “Come on dude, get off it.” Max was really getting annoyed now. But John somehow looked angry as well. “Or what?” “Just – shut up man!” Max turned to John, arms spread, seeming like he had enough of him. “I said – or what!?” John came close to Max, and just pushed him with both hands, slapping his bare, meaty chest. Max was pushed back a bit, and then he was really pissed. He wanted to get closer but Nathan pulled him by the arms, he saw John try to come at him too, but Jim was pulling him back. They shouted at each other. “Look dude, I can like, beat the shit out of you – RIGHT NOW – man!” Shouted John. “Oh yeah?” Said Max, pulling his arm from his friend’s grasp as he flexed it. “Look at this man, I’d wreck you, you—“ This went on for a bit, but eventually the rest of them managed to calm them down, and they made peace. Next was algebra class, and Max was seated next to Alex. The teacher went on about something, but it seemed more in the background to Max – Alex was usually very quiet, and kinda nervous around Max, for some reason. He was usually concentrated, but today, Max noticed that something was distracting him. He looked at him a few times, noticing that he was… staring at him? Or, more particularly at his muscles. He did wear a tight t-shirt today, or did he, he could have sworn that it was a regular t-shirt that very morning. Nevertheless, Alex was sneaking a few glances at his arms whenever he could. At first, Max was a bit annoyed, but then he grew to kinda like it. He decided to play with Alex a bit. He looked when Alex looked over at his arm, and then, he flexed it, making the triceps and biceps pop out, Alex’s eyes went wide at this, Max looked down at him, Alex looked up at Max for a moment, before quickly turning his head towards the blackboard, his face turning red. Max smiled at this, and he did it a few times more. Strangely, Alex spoke up, well, whispered something to him. He usually wasn’t the one to start a conversation. “Err… he- hey.” “Hm?” Max responded, looking at him. “Is that um, is that… an ellipse on your t-shirt?” “Heh, why are you looking at—What?” Max looked down. “No it’s a circle, like an “O” –“ He then noticed that the thick slabs of his pecs underneath his shirt have managed to stretch out the red O on his t-shirt into a sort of ellipse, his eyes went wide and he almost gasped, but then, he grinned. “Nah man – it’s supposed to be a circle, trust me.” A few more classes went on, and eventually school was over. On the ride back home, Nathan looked at Max and said: “Man, you’re jacked! Look at you, I’ve been trying to put on some mass, but like, I just can’t. What do you use, dude?” “Hm? Oh – I like, just eat a lot, drink the stuff you do – nothing out of the ordinary. Guess I’m just having a growth sprout.” “Lucky you, anyway – if you do have a secret – please do share.” “Haha! Yeah, I wish. I would if I had, trust me – if I knew, I’d use it.” Max got home, put his bag on his bed and took off his (now tight) t-shirt, smiling at himself in the mirror. “Oh yeah, I’m liking this.” He still wasn’t quite sure if he’d grown so big recently, or maybe he just hadn’t noticed, anyway – he was thirsty. And he wanted some orange juice. He got down, rummaged through the fridge, looking for orange juice, and on the way eating some chicken, cheese, cake – he didn’t find any orange juice, but he was surprised at how much food he managed to eat in such a short time. “Damn. No o—Oh, wait.” He said, remembering again that he had some of that powder. It didn’t really harm hi, so, he guessed that it wasn’t bad for him, so he made himself a tall glass of it. Though, this time he put in a bit more than usual, just to strengthen the flavor. He went upstairs again – and as he went into his room, he drank half the glass. “Man, nothing beats orange juice, but I guess this’s good.” He went by the mirror, and as he did, he noticed something strange. He placed the glass on the night stand and went closer to the mirror. He looked at himself in it, and then, flexed his right arm. His muscle bunched in a large ball, as always but – it… kept getting bigger. Maybe he was going crazy or… He looked down at his pecs, he could have sworn that the two big muscles moved out a bit, thickening, rounding out. He looked at his abs too, almost feeling them… grow? What could it possibly--- He looked at the drink. He drank the rest of it, and stepped in front of the mirror. Then – his jaw dropped. He literally saw himself… expand. He quickly took off his, now very tight jeans, looking at his calves jut out more and more, his thighs expanded outwards, serrations deepening between his muscles, making them look bigger, and more defined. He flexed his forearms, seeing them too grow, almost bursting with power. He was big and strong before but now – now he was, kinda buff. He flexed for himself in the mirror, observing his big pecs jump up and down, his abs contract into small balls of tight muscle, his arm and leg muscles bunched up with power and his underpants felt kind of… tight. “Wow, yeah – no, this definitely beats orange juice.”

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Part 1 David was a wizard, a magician, at what he did, and the high-tech sports supplement company Rynth Labs paid him well for his work. He had an early, glorious career working for the pharmaceutical industry, but he was a bit of a maverick. He felt more at home in the supplement industry that had less oversight and regulation, and the fact that he could use extracts and derivatives, but never directly any hormones or drugs, added an extra level of challenge. He didn't mind when a sales guy once called him a "modern day shaman." And he had the results to show for his work. He had built an elite group of competitors that benefitted from his research. Some of his products found their way into the commercial products that brought in profits, but many were too dangerous or delicate or expensive to be mass-produced and trusted to the public. Under his watchful eye and attention to detail and rigourous administration, these top contenders benefitted from David's magical potions in exchange for advertising Rynth products. David loved seeing the physical body develop and grow, and he hoped to develop a supplement that could safely trigger massive muscle growth in anyone. He often sampled his own products and had an trim, athletic body to show for it, but he spent most of his time in the lab and behind books, rather than in the gym lifting weights. He was frustrated that the amazing products he was producing were not the ones available to the public. Too often the company decided it was more cost-effective to keep the formulas for the sponsored athletes and used a cheaper imitation of his work that often did little. David was repeatedly reminded that his job was to focus on the athletes that brought in the money. Nobody reminded him of that more often than Russell (aka "The Muscle"). Most of David's athletes were bodybuilders, with some powerlifters and a sprinter. Russell was defending his Mr. O title and was Lab Rynth's star athlete and he knew it. He was David's first project when he started at Rynth Labs about 12 years ago. Russell had won his first local teenage-level show and with David's magic, his body and ego had more than doubled in size since then. At 6 feet tall, he had a chest that pumped up to five feet around, arms that reached two feet around, a ripped 33 inch waist and each leg expanded to three feet around. He could deadlift, squat and bench up to 1,000 pounds. "Isn't it your job to make the BIG guys bigger? I don't care about all the wanna-be's." Russell always felt like David was holding out on him, trying to come up with something safe for the masses rather than something potent for him to soar higher than anyone. And by "anyone" he was thinking of Tomin Rau, last year's runner up who was nearly as impressive as Russ was, and was a sponsored athlete of Rynth lab's biggest rival Sun Labs. David knew they were cheating, using drugs and training techniques that sometimes crippled or killed their athletes until they found one or two who could withstand the abuse and respond by growing faster than natural, then cleaning them up before competing. David had caught Russ using steroids or test, and he had to scramble to avoid a bad reaction before warning Russ that he could have had a heart attack or damaged his organs irreparably. Russ didn't seem to care much about the risk, but he also didn't want to get on David's bad side too much, so it didn't happen often. "What's something new you got for me?" Russ asked about 7 months out from the next Mr. O. "I've got a couple things in animal trials," David began. "I need something now," Russ demanded. "Well, one cocktail was for digesting protein and delivering it to muscles more efficiently, but it looks like it has the opposite effect and digested half the skeletal muscle in the rats and then they pissed it out. You want to try that?" David retorted. "No, but I'd like to give it to Tomin.... Hey, could we do that?" "Sabotage is not very sportsman like." "I'm not a sportsman, I'm a winner." "And do you have any way of getting a supplement to Tomin?" "I might know a guy who supplies him and I might have some leverage with said guy." "Well, we tried to give the rats human-like guts for the experiment, but it might work the way it was designed on humans afterall, and if it does, you'd be giving Tomin a powerful weapon." "So do a human trial and find out!" "Are you volunteering? That's quite a gamble." "Don't you know the best way to gamble is with someone else's money? Have one of the other guys here test it." David didn't need to respond for Russ to know he lost the argument, and with a grumble Russ brought out his log for David to review. But Russ's argument nagged at David. He was pretty sure that he had the theory and models right, but it was possible that the disappointing results in the rats would be repeated in a human, as well. Who would be as desparate but even more reckless than Russell? Maybe a younger Russell, David thought, and he made some phone calls.