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Once again, with the author's permission, I am reposting a story he wrote for the old forum and later deleted. Fortunately, I saved a copy. This was probably written around 2007, so when dates are mentioned in the story, remember that those were all in the future when it was written. Short Cut by LORUS Part 1 There was no other way out of the bunker. I knew that if I were ever to see the light of day again, I would have to get bigger. The walls were six feet thick, concrete reinforced with tungsten girders. A hundred elephants might be able to do it, or else one of me... Todd Emery, world’s strongest muscleman. But not strong enough. Not yet anyway. I was going to have to bodybuild my way out. It was all that I knew how to do. Let me put this into context, although words were never my forty... or is it forte? Who cares? Professor Maximillian LeStrange, for all that he looked and behaved like some Bond-esque megalomanic, was an okay fellah. We all knew that the bombs were dropping. It was 2012, the year that the Mayan calendar ran out, that the mysterious Planet Nibiru (or Planet X) was purported to be entering the solar system once again on its 12,000 year cyclic rotation, passing close enough to the sun to cause a massive solar flare to burn up the Earth’s atmosphere and set the planet’s poles to utter reversion, the same year that the antichrist would be revealed (my money’s still on Joan Rivers) ... et cetera et cetera. I never believed any of that crap. I can’t recall who was to blame, really, North Korea or a trigger-happy dissident hothead from behind the Chinese Curtain who happened to get his hands on some very nasty nuclear launch codes. Whatever caused it, the world ended on December 19th, 2012, five years ago this very week. And thanks to Professor LeStrange one Todd Emery survived. The bunker had been one of several the billionaire scientist had had commissioned in private, part of his ADAM Utopia Initiative. It was his way of preserving all that was great about the human race. In one bunker there would be females for breeding stock purposes, mostly lesbians, but stay with me on this. Maximillian (let’s just refer to him as Max from here on) ... Max believed that heterosexuals had fucked up the world, and maybe he was correct in his thinking, I dunno. I wouldn’t call myself an expert on humanity. But in his post-nuclear holocaust utopia, gay men would inherit the earth, with occasional but mandatory breeding privileges with the more athletic of the dykes. You see... the future Human Race would have a great deal of adversity to overcome, so it made sense to have it as healthy and resilient as possible. My bunker was meant to be extra special, for I was the Alpha Male, wired up to a series of contraptions that allowed me to tap into the untold reserves of brain power that most humans allow to go to waste. Mind over body was the future bodybuilding catalyst that would make men into superman... nay ultra-supermen. I was one such ultra... a bodybuilding archetype for a new future. Unfortunately, to block out so much mental static from my subterranean compatriots I had to be in isolation for at least a year. I was okay with that, Max’s billions ensured that my underground tomb was anything but a tomb. It was fully air-conditioned, using a recycling system that gave me constant fresh air and clean water. It had hydroponics and a farm manned by hunky young studs that I constantly turned to for sexual stimulation, not to mention plenty of hot muscle worship and even hotter sex. They saw me as their god, and I was completely okay with that. But cabin fever, even though I had access to twenty-five thousand square feet of space, gets you in the end. Five years of being stuck in the one place, even though it was as idyllic as money could make it, was too horrid to bear. I didn’t want to lose my mind, because if I did, there was no telling what a man of my size, strength and power could do. I must sleep soon but let me tell you a little about a typical day for me. I wake up at 7am every day, at least I think it’s 7am. Very hard to tell the time of day when all you have to look at are artificial computer-generated vistas tricking you into thinking there is a savory world beyond so many sterile windows. I spend a good hour or so posing in front of the many mirrors throughout the complex. I need to see myself constantly, to remind myself just how amazing, how... oh God.... fuck yeah.... how unbelievably huge I am. But not huge enough. I need to get way bigger if I’m to stand a chance of breaking out of here, digging through the collapsed tunnel that connects with the other “vaults”, and finally reintegrating myself into Max’s incredible collective: all gay men, all athletes, thinkers, scientists, doctors... you name it... he has ‘em all. And let’s not forget the lesbians. Back to me and my muscles.... damn! I’m overwhelmed. Fuck this recollecting for now, I’ll get back to it later. Right now, we are all in need of some incredible muscle action. Let me introduce you to Peter, one of my “boys” who tends farm over in Sector Eight. His specialty is bovine maintenance. But he is so pretty to the eyes, blonde haired, bronze skin, and blue eyes... your typical California surfer dude-type. I never allow my guys to wear anything but faded, ripped Levi’s jeans. They go shirtless throughout their working days, and then after... they wear nothing at all. Peter is my favorite. “Come to me, hot stuff.” “Sure Todd.” “You like what you see as I tense up my arms before you?” “I’m so boned for you right now, Todd.” Peter is enthusiastic and angelic, but the sexiest, by far, of all my guys. “Describe what you see before you, Peter... height, weight, the whole deal.” “You seem taller today, much bigger than yesterday, Todd.” Peter is massaging his ball-sack through his jeans as he speaks. His super-trim waist seems to emphasize his hips and what he has between them. His Levi’s always seem to tent out at the front. My cock twitches at the merest thought of him. “What do you mean “much bigger”? I’ve been working out harder than ever!” My tone is vehement. Peter – although my golden boy – must know his place and never say things that disappoint me. “Sorry Todd. You aren’t much bigger... you’re a LOT more than much bigger,” corrects Peter. “That’s better. Look at my flexing biceps... each bigger than your head.... get over here and start doing things to them... and to yourself as you go.” “Fuck yes... I can’t even get my hands around those thick, muscled mounds. They’re HUGE! Fuck, I’m so jizzing for you any minute, Todd!” Peter’s gorgeous, toned chest is heaving now, his breathing excited, becoming more so. And this is just the beginning. He’s squeezing my massive, flexed biceps as I hold the pump in each. His fingers can’t dent the muscle, diamond-hard muscle that keeps getting bigger, harder.... STRONGER!!!!! It’s not enough to break out yet, but I’m getting there. I continue to flex a double biceps, forcing more blood to flow into veins that never seem to be too engorged. They squirm and pulsate like great leeches under my skin, but this is not an unattractive image, rather the contrary. My striations and vascularity are unprecedented... and I can only get bigger, stronger, and better looking. “Your upper arms have easily passed thirty-two inches, Todd. That’s amazing.” Peter’s boner is now more pronounced. His cock easily passes ten inches hard. He is meant to be part of a new race of man, and these men will always be proud of their peckers. No place for needle-dicks here. Of course, my cock easily surpasses his by at least five more inches. And it’s still growing in proportion with my massively muscular body. “How thick is your chest, Peter?” “You already know my dimensions, Todd!” “Tell me again,” I growl, demandingly. He must oblige. There is no free will in my bunker. I won’t allow it, for I am cocky to a fault; I am the Alpha... the biggest... the strongest... the GREATEST!!! “My chest is a slim thirty-eight, Todd. I have a slender but very attractive fit body,” Peter tells me. “You think I can get my biceps up past thirty-eight, bigger than your fucking chest?” “Unnngh,” pants Todd, his massive trouser snake threatening to pop the buttons on his fly and spit precum all over his muscle master. “Of course, you can... and then you can get them even bigger.” Hearing this causes me to beam with delight, growl in a most-masculine way, and flex harder, causing more blood to fucking scream into my biceps with such pressure and velocity. My bicep cannons explode with deadly force. Both biceps grow even more. I can’t believe this growth. It’s incredible. I bring my arms down to my side and then place knuckles on either side of me, above my hips. I burst out a massive lat-spread, my body transforming, bulging upwards and outwards into a gigantic delta of rock hard, mesmerizingly defined muscle flesh. I bend my head backwards so that my neck thickens and thickens, cords bulging out of it as I need to get my chin out of the way so my upper pec-shelf can thicken and expand. All the while I do this, Peter’s hands are forcibly working their way across my chest, fingertips rising and falling in and out of multiple thick and deep striations. They linger around my sensitive nipples, teasing the buds bigger and harder. They redden from his touch and from so much blood nurturing them. “Go down along my massive torso. Tell me what you’re feeling,” I bark. “It’s like nothing else on Earth, Todd. Your body is Utopia. You must be easily 800 lbs. or more. But you need to be over 1000 lbs. to stand a chance of getting us out of there. I feel tiny before you, my god. But you must get bigger... make me feel tinier, more insignificant. Make me want to worship you even more!” “I give the orders, not you, runt!” “Sorry Todd. It won’t happen again.” “What are my abs like?” “Harder than concrete... a perfect ten-pack, striations deep enough to hide coins in, if coinage meant anything these days.” “Gotta get them bigger, harder... way more defined. I need to hide saucers in them, not coins.” “You will, my god. You will!” “Remove my pants!” I too wear Levi’s, only modified by our in-house tailors, for no ordinary pair would come close to fitting me. My waist is thirty-four inches, but my thighs are each almost forty-one around. My tailors do excellent work. Peter gets down on his knees and begins to unbutton my jeans, relieving some of the pressure in front of my swelling genitals. I never wear underpants; there never seems to be enough room for my junk if I do. I haven’t washed since my last workout. My scent down there is warm, cloying. Peter recoils a little as a cloud of my musk affronts him briefly. Then he accepts it. My trouser snake uncoils before him, easily springing to attention. “Fuck... it’s bigger, thicker than it was last time we did this.” Peter looks worried. Will he be able to take all this meat in its entirety? My snakehead is already leaking its venom, only my venom doesn’t poison... it invigorates. “Take my dick into your mouth... gorge on its massiveness.” “I will...er... gag violently, Todd.” “Do you best not to,” I snarl. Peter does as he’s told, his hand groping me from behind, just about able to work its fingers into the deep crack between two massive muscle-mounds that form my bubble-ass. With his other hand he works at his own impressive member, all the while deep-throating me to the best of his ability. He moans with bliss, breathing through his nose to maintain a steady supply of oxygen. “Unngh feels so good, Peter. You are taking all my muscle-meat. Good man!” “Akkkk....ghhhhhk,” he returns, unable to speak for now. I am content to hear those sounds as he struggles to please me. But there is just so much to me... I’m constantly growing, the hugest bodybuilder ever, about to get even huger. “Aw man... you know how to.... gasp... please your master,” I almost scream, as his teeth scrape along the shaft of my so-thick cock, his tongue near-constantly assaulting the sensitive buds around the skirt of the mushroom head. It throws my senses into utter reverie. I cry out, guttural, masculine... dominant. Precum dribbles in constant miniature rivers out of Peter’s mouth, squeezed from each corner. Soon he is kneeling in a small pool of the stuff. I know that as soon as I cum for real, that I will experience a vital growth spurt. How much I grow depends on how well Peter succeeds at pleasing me. Part 2 And so, Peter continues to please me, for as I’ve already mentioned, he is my favorite. I often think about how much more pleasing to me he would be if he were in possession of muscles as huge and powerful as mine. But I cannot allow anyone to get as big as me. I must be the biggest and the strongest. Peter has this trick he does when sucking off my huge cock. We only discovered he could do it less than a month ago. LeStrange is a little concerned that his utopian muscle studs have begun to evolve in ways other than muscular development. So far Peter is the only one to undergo the merest metamorphosis, but can it be put down to radiation leaking into the vaults through some hairline fracture in the superstructure? Peter has a bifurcate tongue... like a snake’s, but he can also zip it up to look and act like a normal tongue. But now... now I want the snake in his mouth to do amazing things to the super-serpent that is my monster dick. “Time to slither that fucker in, you delicious young hunkling,” I gasp and snarl all at once, my bliss ever rising to near fever pitch. “Anything for you, amazing man,” Peter returns, also gasping. He unzips his tongue, the tip dividing into two prong-like appendages. He can do great things with these. He withdraws most of my thick, wet cock from his capacious mouth, but not all the way, concentrating his efforts on the bulbous head, and specifically the slit through which magic is wont to flow. At first, he teases the sensitive mushroom head, expertly manipulating it between the fleshy ‘limbs’ of his split tongue with great care and expertise. Every muscle in my body is flexed to near-bursting point. I need to hold in every pump I’ve given my muscles during my recent workouts. My body is like no other; my muscles can remain pumped for up to a week at a time. But then, knowing my lust for muscle-growth, I need to build on those held-in pumps, flexing further, harder, and stronger, lifting heavier and heavier all the time for short reps: pumps on top of fucking pumps. Think of the best orgasm you ever had in your life... then multiply that feeling by fifty and THAT’S what it feels like to be me with muscles more pumped than an entire football team before the game, or even holding in pressure greater than a volcano that threatens to erupt but never quite manages it. I am a volcano of muscle, but only Peter can really make me blow my top. “Unnnngh.... sooooooo gooood, Peter.... rape my muscle cock with your amazing tongue,” I yell. Okay, so some of you might think: ewwww, what a terrible image. But Peter can make poetry out of a funeral dirge, trust me on this. He handles me expertly, with unprecedented loyalty. He is irrevocably bonded to me. He lives for me.... he would surely give his life to grow me further. One of the tongue-splits gently works itself into the slit of my cock, exciting nerve-endings that cause my entire body to shudder and then stiffen into a palsy of pain and bliss rolled into one. When your body is subjected to both sensations at once, madness may result, only my mind can make sense of both paroxysms, manipulating them, bending them to my will, so that within seconds I am feeling the greatest sexual high ever felt by a living creature. Peter’s tongue works into me further. Now I am violated, only I want it so much. I know that I shall erupt not only with insane amounts of hot, sweet jism, but my muscles shall grow like they’ve never grown before. I know this, and so does Peter. When I get big enough and strong enough, I will be able to break us all out of this maddening isolation and eventually rejoin the ADAM society as we were meant to. We were never meant to remain out of the equation for so long. Peter is excited; I can feel his excitement thundering through his taut, beautiful flesh and into me. I welcome it. I also welcome the feeling of my massive balls swelling so huge inside their skin sack so that the skin is stretched so tight it shines. My gonads swell and throb bigger than baseballs, and all the while they do - still with his bifurcate tongue doing incredible things to the tip of my cock - Peter’s expert fingers massage and fondle my balls with complete lack of restraint. No place for restraint here, not when I’m about to achieve the greatest muscle growth of my life. I can feel it elevating, inflating inside me almost like a separate persona about to overwhelm the real me. So what if I lose to it... that my muscles should become the dominant power in my life. I don’t care.... I just want to get huger than I could ever have dreamed possible. It’s about to happen, I can feel myself swelling, thickening, and getting taller, wider, and heavier. Oh man, this is incredible. I’m going to get HUUUUGE!!!!!! Peter removes my cock from his mouth just seconds before I blow my massive load. He knows that if he doesn’t take care he could get injured from the intensity of the blast, I’m that strong. He gets out of the way and begins to play with his cock in anticipation of the spectacle we both know is about to happen. I scream out, unable to contain my bliss as every muscle in my body unites in a tremendous spasm that powers the flow of my cum-blast. Out of my hugely stimulated cock, a jet of hot, steaming spunk erupts and shoots across the room. The jet strikes a metal locker on the far side of the room with force enough to dent it inwards. The force of the collision sends cum splashing in all directions. The mess shall be considerable. The orgasm seems ceaseless, the gush of my juice without end. Every time I cum like this, there seems to be more and more of the stuff, as my ability to hold onto the orgasm improves with every emission. I can cum for ages if I need to. I need to now. Peter, too, is desperate to cum, but I have taught him to hold it in unless I command him to erupt. Caught up in my own incredible orgasm, I cannot be concerned about what he is feeling at this time, but I can imagine it can’t be pleasant for him... pleasure and pain all at once (welcome to my world), the desperate need to shoot his own load, only I will not allow it... not yet. He will cum when I reach the pinnacle of my growth cycle... ...which is about to happen... I am engulfed in a rush of heat, my orgasm still raging through me and out of me, every surface in my domicile getting sticky with my liquid protein. For a moment I do not like the feeling, because I liken it to someone’s head exploding from too much of a blood-pressure build-up. So, I placate this feeling with expert mental manipulation... once again tapping into the amazing power of my ever-developing brain. No place for mental dormancy here... not in this utopia. Ah, but the true utopia of man’s utter survival and future can be epitomized and given a body by my tremendous powers of transformation. Once the heat subsides in my body, all my muscles, veins, arteries, organs, even skin, everything that I am: my utmost fabric, throbs and groans as everything shifts and swells. My growth isn’t a gradual stream of growth either. It happens in multi-spurts, powered by dominant heartbeats. My growth happens to all my muscles simultaneously. I don’t just grow... I fucking EXPLODE!!!!!! A nearby computer scans me as I grow... my vitals and measurements project onto my body in scintillating red laser characters, cast out of several spherical beam emitters that hover almost invisibly around me. My chest expands massively, the bones of my ribcage cracking and stretching with newfound pliability as they move out in every direction to make room for more and more growth. My pecs blow up like feeding amoebae, gorged on matter greater than their starving masses can comfortably accommodate. My pecs glut on growth and power, laser-cast numerals etch across my skin in bold crimson relief: “74 inches” .... “76 inches” ... “81 inches” .... like a neon tickertape, one that can barely keep up with my searing, soaring growth. “Uhh, the feeling is amazing,” I gasp, my body seething, sweating, palpitating with metamorphic power. All the while I grow, Peter continues to moan with reverie of his own, although he shall not falter and succumb to cumming until I say it’s okay to do so. Our bond is unbreakable... it cannot be denied. I also realize that I am becoming smarter, my command of syntax and structure improving all the time. Below my ever-deepening, ever-thickening overweight pecs, crescent moons of darkest shadow are cast, growing longer and downwards, hiding some of the thick cobblestone mosaic formed of my ab-bellies. To some they would be dismayed that one massive muscle group should so blatantly swell to conceal the magnitude of another, but in this case, I welcome it. My favorite muscles will always be my pecs, and so I want them bigger, heavier, way more defined, and with striations deep enough to hide one of Peter’s ever-roaming hands. Laser beams fire diminishing measurements across the brickwork of my stomach, numbers ‘ticker-taping’ in decreasing increments in contrast to the ever-increasing dimensions occurring elsewhere across my incredible and hyper-sexy jizzed-out physique: “36 inches” … “34 inches” ... “33 inches”. My waist now stabilizes at a waspish 32 inches. I could not be happier, more fucking boned by my unprecedented measurements. But even as my waist tightens, so my ab bricks become harder, denser, the laser light rising and dipping as it travels across my abdomen, occasionally being swallowed up by the deep and dark gullies separating each belly from its brothers, only to reappear bright and bold across my glistening, musky skin. I flex my abs and intercostals, tightening my waist further. Veins erupt across my stomach, my Apollo’s belt thickening and deepening to mesmerizing proportions, now festooned with highways of interconnecting vessels through which protein-charged blood, testosterone and adrenaline mix and surge. I momentarily gasp at the new size, weight, and thickness of my muscle-tits. “Puh-pleeese, Todd.... let me cum.... I (gasp)... cannot maintain it much longer,” appeals Peter. But I am resolute in my command of him. He will cum only when I allow it. As I play with the heft and depth of my pecs, I tease out my nips, tweaking them hard so that they expand, thicken and surge hugely on the massive balloon-pecs to which they provide crowning glory. As I grow faster and faster, completely caught up in the ecstasy of my evolution, I squeeze the hulkish brutes of my breast muscles together, forcing the striations across each to deepen and darken... more blood coursing into every tissue fiber, and my nips to grow huger, thicker, twice the circumference of a man’s thumb. I want more growth.... “More......I want MORE!!!!!!!!!!! RAAAAWWWWWR!!!!” My exultation is almost pantomime in its delivery, for it, too, is an empowerment, one that shall fuel my growth further and further. I crab down into a most muscular, forcing more and more growth and nourishment into my muscles, now my arms more so. The laser light numerals dwell on my biceps for a time, recoding their increase in size as I flex them into the biggest muscle-balls a man shall ever sport... until I decide I want them even bigger again.... “38 inches” … “41 inches” … “46 inches” ... FIFTY FUCKING INCHES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My arms are now bigger than my thighs were before my growth; my forearms now almost match the width of my thighs at the outset of this transformation. I squeeze out more definition and size, leaning into the flexing, so that my vast bodyweight pushes against the muscle growth, causing even more of a growth reaction. The muscles of my legs heave and ripple with the most effortless of exertions. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, delighting at the feeling of how easily my legs take my weight as it shifts left to right. I want more and more.... this is incredible. It must NEVER end, not if I stand a chance at bodybuilding my way out of this annex. And then, even as I struggle to see over the massive promontory that has become of my chest wall, I can feel as well as just about make out, the awesome expansion of my monster dick. The scanners are struggling to keep up with recording my fast and furious muscle growth. And there is more to explore, but as the computer shuts down into diagnostic mode to reboot, I know that I am still not done with growing, not by a massive amount yet. “Have to.... cuh-cum, Tuh-Todd,” tears now streaming from the eyes of an imploring Peter. I could do with an infusion of protein right about now... to further fuel my growth. I lick my lips in yearning anticipation. “Come to me.... CUM into me!!!!!” I command. And so, he tends to me as I continue to increase in size and weight and awesome muscularity. My weight has exceeded 1000 lbs., but I still feel small, even though I now tower over the one who is most bonded to me. As I hulk out a hundred more pounds of thick, manly muscle onto my gigantic bodybuilder’s frame, I effortlessly pick up Peter, feeling him to be weightless in my hands, I’m now THAT strong. As his body begins to jerk from the spasms of orgasm, I lift his stiff, engorged prick to my hungry lips and taste of the sweet juice he is powerless to keep as his own. ******************************** This is all there is. I don't know if this was meant to be the first part of a longer story, or if it was meant to be a "cum quickie" and end here. I think it works well as it stands.

Once again, with the author's permission, I am reposting a story he wrote for the old forum and later deleted. Fortunately, I saved a copy. Some of the pop culture references may be a little dated, especially for younger readers, but that shouldn't get in the way. There are two parts to the original story and a sequel called David's End of Days. I will post all of those in this thread. Enjoy! David's Day by LORUS Part 1 of 2 7:00 am: The alarm always went off at 7am. David Driscoll, like every morning would awaken to the 1979 disco hit “Born to be Alive”, by Patrick Hernandez. The song was his personal anthem, and he just loved life, although he would have preferred to have been a teen back in the 1970s. He loved that decade, the decade of polyester, which wasn’t always flattering on people, unless of course, they had a body like David Driscoll. He dressed, seventies-style, every day of his life, sometimes mixing and matching the loudest of shirts with the most ludicrous of pants, the wider the bells on the bottoms the better. He was THE biggest bodybuilder in the world, and so young, too. He was so beautiful that he could get away with wearing just about anything, or sometimes very little at all. It depended on the mood he was in at the time. So it was Friday morning, on his 18th birthday and he always performed a little show for himself in front of his bedroom mirror, as Patrick Hernandez belted out his catchy disco hit. Standing totally naked he would assess himself in minute detail, but for no longer than fifteen minutes. There was just so much for him to do and achieve today. “Bam.... best fucking arms ever, but they need more size,” he declared, curling his forearms up to a vertical position on either side of his handsome head, squeezing thick mass into his bis, and gasping in mock-surprise at how the peaks pushed upwards as if they were miniature mountains rising out of the land, a pure herculean feat that would forever go unrivalled. “First thing today... eat a huge, power-packed breakfast, and kiss your mom, in that order, trying to look as though you don’t already know about the Ferrari F430 she bought you for your 18th.” He flexed his rippling, deeply cut abs and sucked them in with expert control, as he fanned his upper body out to the biggest full-lat-spread he’d ever seen, and this was before today’s massive upper body workout, which, he’d planned to make the most productive one of his life so far. He had a plan for today, now that he was old enough to drink and go to bars. There was a new gay bar and nightclub opened in town and he planned to be the center of attention by the onset of evening. “Gotta work these muscle-titties up to their most bulgerific, oh yeah!” His mouth and chin disappeared into a mattress of super-strong, almost obscenely developed pec-cleavage. He flexed the slabs huger – hefting them higher – and causing rippling striations to blast across their corpulent surfaces. Nipples that pointed straight down now stood out perpendicular to the floor, each one pushing out in support of the pushing out happening further down. “Ha ha ha.... no one will ever come close to being as huge as me... yeah... huge in every place where it goddam fuckin’ counts.” Yeah, he was cocky to a fault, but he was entitled to be. He hefted the massive snake of his cock in his hands, shocked in a “not-surprised” kinda way, when it felt longer, thicker, and heavier to him than it had the day before. He always knew that he would grow amazingly on his 18th birthday. How he knew this he couldn’t say... he just, well, knew. “Gotta weigh myself.... must have hit 500lbs by now, aw yeah!” His cock snapped fully erect at the thought of weighing this much. Lately he’d been bodybuilding like crazy, even dropping out of school to devote as much time in each day to bulking up his body to even more massive proportions. Hell, he didn’t need to be academically achieved to sail through life. He already had everything handed to him on a silver platter, given that he came from one of the world’s wealthiest families. His parents were divorced, his father based in South America where he spent most of his time adventuring in the rain forest in search of ancient relics (yawn). His mother was a complete socialite, given to throwing gala parties at the drop of a hat. Today David would inherit a trust fund amounting to fifty million dollars, so what did he need school for? He had looks, muscles, vast wealth, and from today onwards... complete and utter independence. One thing he vowed not to have by the end of the day and night was his virginity. He stood on the scale in his personal bathroom whilst his manservant, Carmichael, stood in attendance. “I’ll take it the Sir is pleased by the number on the readout,” said Carmichael, in the fakest British brogue you will ever hear. But he was good-looking and although in his forties, looked a good ten years younger. David often thought about fucking him, but he knew that Carmichael was straight, and he respected that. “Damn, only 496,” David angrily snapped, stomping his foot in Hulk-like fashion, flattening the expensive scale beneath. As well as being monstrously muscular, the teen was immensely strong. “I will clean that up immediately and have a replacement scale within the hour, Sir,” Carmichael droned, as if disinterested. “Damn, I wanted to be 500 on my birthday. But I know I can grow so much today. I can feel it in my blood, Carmichael. By the way, does my cock look bigger to you?” Completely unashamed of his nakedness – in fact he loved to be naked as often as circumstances allowed – David squeezed his cock so hard that the mushroom head swelled to the size of a man’s fist. “Longer than my forearm, Sir. The Sir must be very proud to sport such a magnificent member,” Carmichael replied, tonelessly. “Yeah, and it’s going to see plenty of action this evening. But I need to bulk up to my hugest ever. Tonight has to be special, Carmichael. I need to be goddam fucking HUUUGE,” David roared, and flexed out a most-muscular that caused every bulb of muscle on his upper body to tautly explode with size and definition. “Ha ha ha... is that a little spot of precum I see staining the front of your pants, Carmichael?” David was becoming playful now, and so very lusty. “Yes, Sir, but I’m thinking about making love to Missus Carmichael later this evening, so please do not think that my sudden... ahem... display is in any way directed at you,” the servant politely stated. “Damn.... seven-fifteen. I need to get food into me before my cardio. Wow, it’s a sunny morning. Think I’ll go for a shirtless run, get these pec-melons of mine bouncing like crazy. Damn but they weigh a ton. Feels like they’re gonna drop off under their own weight at any second. Fuckin’ bones me.” David needed to fuck badly. He’d never done it with anyone before, respecting his mother’s wishes not to lose his virginity whilst living in the same mansion as her. Besides, bodybuilding left David with very little time for socializing, let alone pursuing a relationship. Since quitting high school a full year before graduation, he’d put the extra time to very good use, bulking up from 335 lbs. at just seventeen, to almost 500 in less than a year. But it was never enough for him. He had to be huger. “Need to be HUGE! Not HUGE enough. This bodybuilder is gonna get MASSIVE beyond belief!” He continued to flex the huge muscles across his mighty six-foot-eight frame. He felt as though he was done with growing in height, but if he happened to gain another couple of inches before his bones were done with growing, he figured he could live with it. Besides, as far as his bones were concerned, he still wanted his shoulders to widen and his rib cage to expand even further. The better the foundation, the bigger the muscles he could pack on to it. Carmichael laid out his clothing for that morning, a tan-colored pair of low-rise, butt-n-crotch-hugging running shorts that barely covered the top of his dark pubes or the top of his butt-crack. The curved cleft between his bubbled glutes was deep and dark, with just a small puff of hair poking out. Any sweat running down the deep channel of his back formed by the immense sheets of convoluted muscle on either side would collect in that tuft, two scents mixing to form his ultra-musk. He liked to build up this musk, and with tonight being an adventure of unprecedented proportions, David vowed to enter the nightclub reeking of musk, manly and over-comely, altogether dripping with seduction. David pulled on the shorts, taking great effort to do so, but being careful not to pop the button-fly as he struggled to pack his meat inside. He never wore a jockstrap or any kind of underwear under his shorts when running. He also never wore the same pair twice. Once done with the shorts, Carmichael, his devoted manservant, would (with the aid of a gas mask) package them up and sell them on eBay, but not before cooking them in a sauna for a few days, to get them really pungent. A pair of David Driscoll’s unwashed running shorts would usually go for upwards of $3000.00 lately, not that he needed the money, but it was fun to watching the furious bidding that took place on eBay for the much-coveted shorts. “Ha ha ha... the best thing is though, that my shorts get muskier the bigger I get. Better watch out, Carmichael, I may soon be sooooo musky, so manly-flavored, that even you won’t be able to resist me.” That was another of David’s plans, to seduce and fuck as many straight guys as possible. He was going to fuck the world....aw yeah! “Remind me to stock up on clothes-pins, Sir,” Carmichael responded, his droll tone dripping with the driest sarcasm. He helped his master on with his running shoes. That was the downside of being enormously muscled; putting on shoes was damn-near impossible when you had so much titanic muscle clogging up the space between your neck and your shins. But David wasn’t immobile, far from it. He was getting stronger and fitter as he got bigger, but any problems he had with dressing only served to make him even more proud about his burgeoning body. He was nearly ready, but for one more thing: Glisten Mist, the spray-on moisturizing oil and anti-burn factor, developed by one of his father’s many companies. The mist would coat his muscles evenly, buffing them up to a glistening shine whilst helping to lock in moisture and protect his beautiful, tanned skin from UV damage. “How do I look,” asked David, knowing full and well how amazing he looked. He posed some more in his mirror, aghast at how the mist-sheen brought out the beauty, mammoth size, and sheer mind-blowing magnificence of his bulging body. He flexed an arm, hooking it down before him, and a melon-sized ball-bicep morphed into being. “Gonna get these beauties twice as big today,” he vowed, with a manly snigger. “Um, the Sir might want to become less “excited” before going downstairs to greet his mother,” said Carmichael, drawing David’s attention to the huge cock-bulge in the front of his shorts. The visible button-fly strained and groaned in defiance of the pressure put against it, and the waistband, already ridiculously low and challenging the nudity regulations of California, was pushed out further from his ab-wall so that more of his pubic bush poked upwards. Already musk was forming there, the smell of the scent enough by itself to get David really horny. “Shit, I’ll have to cum first, Carmichael. Damn, I won’t even make it to the bathroom.” Frantically, furiously, David undid his shorts and expanded his cock to its complete length of twenty-something inches. It thickened considerably, the mushroom-head seeming to grow even further, his ball-sack bulging up like the throat-sac of a horny bullfrog. Fortunately, Carmichael always carried a fold-up umbrella in his inside pocket, in case of emergencies such as this. He just about got the umbrella up, using it as a shield before him, in time to not get showered. 7:32 am: David came and came.... then came some more. His milking went on for six minutes, bringing the time to 7:32 am, and he still had to leave his bedroom. “Aww...fucking horny. Huge bodybuilding mega-stud that I am... cum everywhere.” He coated every surface of everything in the room, and soon Carmichael’s umbrella was coated in thick, opaque splashes of viscid cream. He finished by licking off as much of the cum from his mirror, which completely covered it. When he could once again see his awesome reflection, he crabbed into a most-muscular, growling with such intensity that the mirror shattered right in front of him. “Fuck yeah!” When he arrived downstairs, Consuela the cook had his breakfast ready. David wolfed down twelve chicken fillets, four bowls of oatmeal, a pound of lean ground beef, and washed it down with three quarts of gainer shake (his own special recipe prepped to max for ultimate results in growth and conditioning). It was more food in one sitting than what three super-heavyweight pro bodybuilders would be able to get through. David was banned from competing for the simple reason that posing in front of a crowd got him so boned, he would come out in a massive erection every time. Fuck it: he knew he was the best. Besides, he would win every time, thus ruining the competition for everyone else. It was a lot of food to take in before a run. But David’s metabolism was truly exceptional. It was as though he had a nuclear reactor for a stomach. As soon as food entered his system it was broken down far more rapidly than a mundane human body could do. And he could eat anything he liked, too, once he had the sensible breakfast out of the way. Lunch would be pizza at the gym. His family owned most of the gyms in America, so his rules were different than those for everyone else. He was allowed to send out for 8 massive pizzas to help him through his workouts, and only David was allowed to train shirtless. His body was an example to everyone else working out at the gym... they would never match its perfection. His mother hardly noticed him as she glided into the massive kitchen, struggling with one of her earrings, her outfit the latest Versace two-piece, her makeup and hair done to perfection courtesy of her live-in stylists. “I’m jetting off to Milan, sweetie. Kiss kiss. Happy birthday. The keys to your present are on the countertop. Love you lots, daaaarling.” And that was it. Monique (real name Maud) barely had time for her extraordinary son, these days, not since hooking up with the wealthy Italian oil magnate, Rubio Andretticalzoni. “Huh, so much for my surprise party later on,” said David, a little despondently. But he’d mostly been raised by the servants since he was little, his parents far too important and jet-setter-ish to spare much time for their only son and heir. Even when he started to gain absurdly huge amounts of muscle, his parents hardly noticed. But David didn’t care. He only cared about himself and his body. He was too rich to have strong family ties beyond what his blood entitled him to in the way of inheritance. 7:51 am: He left on his run, charging through the mega-rich suburb, passing other rich-folk, musicians, movie-stars etc. He nodded a good morning to Vin Diesel who was out walking his poodle, the little toy-dog’s curly fur tinted pink in places. “It’s my girlfriend’s pooch,” the star of the Riddick movies explained, somewhat shakily, to the hulking Adonis that passed him, his eyes rapt on the seething bounce of David’s weighty pecs as he jogged. “Sure it is, Vin. Sure it is,” said David, winking. He blew a kiss at Lenny Kravitz who was out collecting mail from his mailbox. Kravitz gave him the finger but asked him where he got his pants from. “House of Trione, and you’d have a problem filling them out, hot stuff,” David blurted out as he quickly put distance between himself and the musician. He turned the head of every person he passed, the rich and the famous, although not one of them could ever match David’s size and beauty. Movie Director Louis Leterrier who, like many directors, had property in Santa Barbara, had seen David before, and was always trying to grab his attention. Sometimes David liked to tease him a little. “The offer still stands, David. The studio will pay you twenty million dollars to play the Hulk in HULK 3. The CGI hulks just haven’t been working out,” said Leterrier as he tended to his rose bushes. “Hmm,” said David, considering the offer. He’d seen both Hulk movies. And the Hulks looked terribly unrealistic, although there were significant visual improvements made to the Hulk in the second film. But twenty million dollars was now mere pocket change to David. “Of course, to use you as a live-action Hulk, I’d need you to bulk up by another three hundred pounds before we start shooting in mid-2011,” the director added. “I could easily get that big, Louis, but location shooting away from my base of operations could be problematic. It would eat into my training schedule far too much. But you might be able to change my mind, say, for forty million dollars plus merchandising rights for use of my likeness.” Smug and over-confident, his body glinting blindingly in the Californian sunshine, David flexed a most muscular, pushing all his weight and power into it. Several car alarms went off suddenly. Leterrier almost tripped over his tongue when he saw the muscles standing out so much. “Forget forty million, David. Your asking price is too high. Looks like it’s CGI for HULK 3, so.” Obviously the world wasn’t ready for a teenage Hulk. The director sighed and went back to pruning his roses. David continued jogging. 8.25 am: He decided to not turn back for home, but continued jogging, leaving the ‘burbs altogether and heading for downtown. He stopped plenty of traffic as he jogged, his muscles, especially his enormous pec slabs, caused guys passing to pop erections (whether they were straight or not) and grown women to start fingering themselves in the street. A cop car flashed its lights as a warning to him, but by the time David passed the vehicle, a quick flex and lick of his bicep was enough to overwhelm the two cops and they started to undo each other’s flies. David had an astounding and exceptional effect on people. It seemed that any laws that existed to keep mundane society in check simply didn’t apply to David. “Fuck, I’m gonna jog shirtless to the gym every day from now on,” he vowed, reckoning it would give him an extra thirty minutes to work on the weights if he didn’t have to go home first and shower, obviously driving to the gym after that. That meant that he could lift longer and get huger because of it. It made sense. “Grrrr, why didn’t I think of that sooner? I could be hundreds of pounds heavier by now.” He got to the gym, leaving in his wake a trail of orgasming Santa Barbarians. He stopped to catch his breath, which only took seconds. His body was glistening beneath a coat of shining, liquid beads, and his slutty shorts were sodden with his musky sweat. In fact, he entered the gym that morning and immediately Alan behind the desk, himself a huge bodybuilding hunk of 24, caught a sniff of David’s reek and instantly shot a messy load in his own shorts. “Unnnngh.... you’re so fuckin’ hot, Driscoll. Unnngh, how about you and I get jiggy in the showers later,” Alan moaned, now stroking his not-inconsiderable cock, caring little if his employers caught him on camera. Not to worry, David would fix everything, considering his family owned the gym. “I might take you up on that offer, sexy. Better start re-filling those nuts of yours. ‘Cos your cum is all mine. But for now, I gotta fucking lift. Gotta get so fucking, incredibly fucking HUUUUUGE!!!!!” He flexed his enormous biceps, screaming to get his blood flowing so that his muscles could bulge even larger. Alan immediately shot another massive load, blowing a huge stream of thick cum into the air. It splashed all over David’s biceps and he quickly licked each of them clean of every drop. 8:51 am: To hell with warming up. Jogging at 496 lbs. – his body saturated with massive muscle-flesh – was a warm-up enough by itself. Today he was concentrating on chest, arms, delts, and shoulders. Yeah, he could work all those groups by 5pm, his cut-off point. He needed to have his upper body looking immense before hitting the town later. It wasn’t even 9am and already there was a small crowd forming around David as he took his position on his favorite bench. It was chest first, aw fuck, he had to get it up past one hundred and eight inches. The other bodybuilders present, every one of them totally into themselves and their training, unless in the presence of David, began to egg him on, chanting in unison so that he could break through the pain threshold and break his personal bests. This morning he was benching 1100 lbs. on the bar, the bar itself bending dangerously from the massive weight. He cranked out a staggering thirty reps at this weight. Arteries begat new veins and veins begat a myriad of new capillaries as his circulatory system transformed to cope with the increase in his mass and the punishment he gave it. His body erupted with newfound bulges and vascularity as he managed a further twenty reps before returning the bar to its resting position. He didn’t need help doing it either. He sat up on the bench and bunched his pec muscles together. Even sweatier than he was when he arrived, he playfully raised his arms up high to expose the thick, twin bushes of his dark armpits, spraying every guy present with his sopping-wet perfume. “Aww David, you dirty cunt,” one of them cried, a tall muscle-hunk named Barry Watts, his sudden erection shredding his shorts at the front. The entire retinue of David-worshippers, straight, gay, and bi, began to go at themselves or else go at each other; such was the effect of being around the supercharged eighteen-year-old. “ I’ve come of age now, guys, so you’d better all watch out. I’m going to get huger than this.... way fuckin’ huger, and by the end of the day, you all will be walking home with smoke cummin’ outta yer butts. David has arrived, and David will CUMMMMM!!!!” The air-conditioning failed, causing the temperature to shoot up in the gym. David’s musk got stronger still, his once tan-colored shorts now dyed a dark brown from saturated moisture. His musk dripped down his legs and coated so many surfaces. Cockily he commanded some of his worshippers to load up the bar with another 100 lbs. The bar sagged even further on either end, but still held. He settled back beneath it and took the strain. “Unnnnngh!!!!” He was slow to start pumping reps, but as he commanded more strength from his ever-developing muscles, the bar soon began to feel lighter and lighter. Within twenty seconds David was pumping the 1200 lb. bar with ease. The fact it was getting lighter and easier to lift as he progressed, made him mad.... very mad! “48... 49... 54... 60... 68... 71... 150... 399...680...1397....,” the congregation chanted. David couldn’t stop pressing the bar. He was locked into the activity, doing away with sets altogether. There was now just constant pumping, ceaseless repetition, whilst around him, grown men in various degrees of muscular development continued to get off to the massive muscle-god named David. 10:00 am: Finally, after an hour, somewhere around his 2000th rep at 1200 lbs., David returned the bar to its rests, boned by the fact it was hot from friction, each overloaded end drooping like melting ice cream. He sat up, his musk now billowing around him. He looked around. Up to fifty gym-goers were locked in a ceaseless orgy around him. He got so very horny looking at them writhing in a seemingly endless rippling ocean of muscle and male beauty. He looked down at his pecs and was amazed to see that they were twice as huge as before. “Aw fuck... look at me. So huuuge. But not huge enough, not by a long shot.” He flexed his massive pecs, delighting at how much heavier they felt, the cuts deeper, the cleft between each pec-melon now richly dark and leaking his scent as abundantly as his boned cock dripped cupsful of precum at a time. So much moisture was leaving him, at an astonishing rate. He was thirsty, but not for water. He needed to test a theory. He’d had a dream once where he was milking other bodybuilders of their juices, drinking them in, leaving them dehydrated and unconscious. Strangely Carmichael was there, just for a second, but winking at him, as if he knew something that David didn’t. And in the dream, having drunk the bodybuilders of their nut-nectar, David bulked up far huger and huger. Could this be the secret to his exceptional muscle growth? The men at his feet were totally in his power, now. He started with Barry Watts, tearing every shred of clothing from him as he easily lifted him up with both hands. Barry was about two-eighty, bulking in his off-season, but he felt totally weightless to the monster that David’s muscles had made of him. “Mmmm, nice little pecker you have there, Baz,” David remarked, before closing his lips around Barry’s porn-worthy ten-incher. He sucked him for exactly nine seconds before the groaning, enraptured Barry blew another load and a blast of hot, salty crème gushed down David’s throat. David swallowed hard, savoring every drop. He drank Barry to the last, then pushed him aside and started on another, Guy Colette, whose balls were the size of tennis balls. David got him off and sucked him dry. He did this to every boned bodybuilder in his retinue. David grew. Aw fuck, he grew and grew.... like fucking never before. 10:33am: His perfume radiated outwards into the street, causing passers-by old enough to react to it to stop what they were doing and pile into the gym en masse. Some people had never seen the inside of a gym in their lives, but David’s reek was intoxicating and addictive. Soon a huge throng of people from all walks of life had gathered around him on the weight room floor as he underwent a most remarkable transformation. Considering he’d only intended to train some of his muscles on this day, he was completely boned to discover that sucking off the other bodybuilders had caused all his muscles to grow. His traps gorged on free space, pushing upwards and outwards, shortening the distance between his shoulders and neck. Veins, thickly throbbing, erupted across the triangular wedges, sticking out ferociously whilst the cords and pipes of his neck bulged and thickened, which sent further chemical power spreading to other muscle groups. His deltoids swelled larger, deeper, and thicker than... oh fuck... thicker than his goddam pecs had been just minutes before. A dozen inches or more was added to the colossal spread of his shoulders, providing the most perfect framework from which his now beach-ball balloons for pecs hung weightily, the under-swell of each pec-belly deep, round, so very thick and capable of casting a shadow under each hemisphere, dark enough to hide his top two cantaloupe-sized abs from view. His nips pointed down once more but grew intensely into cigar-butt-sized domes, each one ultra-sensitive and inviting of many a hungry, eager set of lips. His arms thickened massively, thicker and wider than the entire torsos of some of the skinny dudes his reek had drawn in from the street. One brave guy stepped forwards, stripping himself naked as he went, urged by, of all people, his girlfriend who was herself so turned on by the spectacle of the ever-developing mega-expanding young bodybuilder. He stood beside the giant so that everyone else could compare his width to that of David’s augmenting upper arms. “Hot dude, your arms are as thick as all of me,” the skinny fucker declared. “Oh really?” With a wink to his audience and the smuggest of smirks, David curled his forearm towards him, smiling out of the corner of his mouth, and immediately his biceps DOUBLED in circumference. The ball was gigantic, easily eighty inches or more, hopefully more, David hoped... a lot more. “Guess you’re going to have to start working out, stickman. You’re just half as thick as one of my arms now. Tsk tsk tsk,” said David, teasingly showing off, now, and loving every moment of it. Hearing this made stickman start to cum. David lifted him up with one hand and caught every drop of his spunk, draining him to the point of dehydration. In contrast to the swelling of his incredible upper torso, David’s waist seemed to tighten and become denser. It went in by an inch, giving him the most incredible difference in the ratio of size between his shoulders and waist. The ratio was easily 4:1 in favor of his shoulders. He also grew two inches taller, and his bones cracked and shifted in order to adjust to the extra muscle mass. David sucked off dozens of men, whilst their wives or girlfriends saw to their own “needs” watching David make fags out of their partners. One guy sauntered up to David and began to inhale David’s dripping, steaming musk. The gigantic muscle-teen lifted him up, sucked him dry, and added him to the pile of dehydrated stickmen gathering at his feet. He grew and grew and grew, sucking off any guy overpowered enough by his reek enough to throw themselves at him. He sucked on bodybuilder after bodybuilder as they began arriving from other gyms. He drank of the city police force, construction workers, in short, every gay man who was overpowered by David’s reek and just HAD to get to the gym. This went on until lunchtime, when traffic became deadlocked and complete sexual anarchy ran riot across the Santa Barbara coast. Finally, David could grow no more. 1:04 pm: Though his belly should have been glutted on man’s creamy ambrosia, David was ravenous. He looked down at the sleeping multitude of Californian folk: some naked, others half-in, half-out of uniforms, everything from police officers, dentists, paramedics, and even the odd man of the cloth (who would really have to question their faith after this). He smirked smugly at the sight of an Asian pizza delivery guy hogging the shredded remains of David’s slut-shorts, rubbing their reek all over his bare torso, intending to coat all of his parts with a stench he would never want to ever wash off. “Hey dude, where’s your van? I’m starving for pizza,” the now almost seven-footer bellowed anxiously. He could barely see much of the pizza boy who writhed on the floor amidst so much soil and reek, for his pecs were now monstrously huge and jutted out from him by more than four feet. His lats were so massive that they forced his elbows outward so that David could barely lower his arms. But with a little effort he could still get his hands around his lithe but solid hips. He flared a lat spread and any space between his bent arms and his waist was filled with lat muscles. He walked back a couple of meters to get a better look at the Asian cutie, his legs, beyond elephantine girth, rippling and flexing with the slightest of movement. His muscle-thighs were now so big that there was no room for his cock and balls to hang downward and in between. Pushed outward, they made his profile look even more dynamic. And... fuck... but his cock was thicker and longer than ever, longer than the distance from the top of his thigh to his knees. It slapped loudly against his thighs as he walked, and the feeling sent ripples of further arousal around his body. The Asian barely acknowledged him, caught up in the throes of his own masturbatory lust, but managed to point in the direction of his truck. The monster bodybuilder stepped over many sleeping folk, all of them sated to the last, and ventured out of the gym in search of the pizza wagon. He found it and got to its delicious cargo easily enough, ripping the rear door right off the vehicle and tossing it aside with hardly any effort. Just as he was about to get his handsome chops around the first pepperoni and cheese delight, a not-unattractive man, clad in a designer suit, hurried across the street towards the behemoth. “Stop right there, big fella. That’s a corporate order. I was watching for the van from the lobby of my building. That pizza is for the Board of Directors.” The guy looked pissed off but somewhat bemused by David’s size. “What’s the name of the company, pipsqueak?” David didn’t look away from his gorging. Fuck, but that was mighty good pizza. “Brody, Brody, and Marshall. Best law firm in Calif – heeey!!!” The thirty-ish-looking exec took exception to David reaching down to snatch his cell phone from his inside jacket pocket, which he then used to dial a familiar number. “Carmichael it’s David... yeah, training is going swell.... I’m fuckin’ huge. Listen, do me a favor and buy Brody, Brody, and Marshall... that’s right, the law firm on Main St. Across from the gym, exactly. Great. Oh, and one more thing...” Another question to the stupefied exec: “What’s your name, dude?” “Er... em... Alistair Marshall, junior vice-president. My father is treasurer and Ch––” But before he could finish: “And see to it that Alistair Marshall is promoted to Chairman of the Board, with a $500,000 bonus. Great. See you later.” David closed the phone and politely popped it back inside Alistair Marshall’s inside pocket. He patted him cheekily on the head before returning to his eating. It was David’s birthday, after all, and he was feeling generous. 1:57 pm: So much growing had worn David out. He decided he could use a nap. He bounded upstairs and evicted Ray the manager from his office, knowing he had a bed in there, a sizeable one, too, which Ray used to bone many a hot chick as was his wont in life. While he slept, he had a dream, but it was the strangest dream he’d ever had in his life. His dad was in it, and so was Patrick Hernandez. Both were sat around a blazing fire in some enclosed village community central to some lush, dense forest. David Driscoll Sr was staring beyond the flames, as if caught in some inner journey that only his mind could experience, whilst Patrick Hernandez feverishly scribbled down lyrics into a pad, his sequel to “Born to be Alive” probably. “Dad, what the hell is going on? Where are we?” There was little to glean from the dreamscape except from the immediacy of the surroundings: the campfire blazing high and brightly, the flames crackling and popping as resin from the burning wood was exposed to them. Beyond that the surrounding environment seemed to be smudged out of focus in the way that dreams can sometimes be to save writers from having to waste an entire paragraph describing it. “I’m afraid, son, that I’m dead. This is the afterlife, based on where I died and how I died,” David’s father lamented as he tossed more wood on the fire. The flames roared up higher, causing shadows to dance skittishly across the sprawling landscape of David’s enormously pumped muscles. “I see you’ve been doing some growing, son... and on your 18th birthday also. Just as I predicted.” David Sr smiled broadly at his son, the son he hardly ever saw, and yet was still proud of. “Whoa, wait a sec... before we get into anything else. You’re telling me that you’re dead?” Now this was a dream that David could really do with waking up from. But there was something about how it was presented to him, and the fact that it felt so much more than a dream, that piqued David’s curiosity. “Yes, it was all part of the bargain I made with, Old Nick here,” said David Sr, and slapped the back of Patrick Hernandez as if they were old buddies. Which, in fact, they were. The Devil looked up from his scribbling and flashed a mouthful of pearly whites at David. They were all pristinely bright, except for one bad one that ruined what would otherwise have been a perfect smile. “You made a deal... with the devil?” David looked horrified and began to back away from the glow of the fire. “Of course, we go way back, him and me. We both got our business degree together. Nick and the males of this family go right back to your great, great, great, great grandfather Efram Driscoll, who began this family corporation, which is now worth twenty million, billion dollars. We practically own two thirds of the free world,” said David senior, proudly. “You mean that Efram made the first deal with the Devil, a tradition that carried down all the way to.... shit... me?” David had never considered himself religious in any way, but if this dream was real, then there was some hot shit going down... shit that was hotter than Hell. Old Nick Hernandez put down his writing pad and began to roll a joint. He was a man of very few words, it seemed. “Yes, our forefathers all wished for great wealth and influence over the masses, and that sustained the family, and shall continue to through future generations, provided you don’t stay gay all your life and beget a son and heir. You need to pass on the tradition, you see. It was the nature of the first deal made by old Efram. By the time it was my turn, I didn’t need anything in the world whatsoever, cos I was set for life. When you were born, and we saw just how scrawny you were, I thought “Jeez, he’s a runt and a half. He’s a weak link in a long line of strong links in our exceptional family chain. I said to Nick that you should be big... really big. And that was meant to come to fruition on your 18th birthday.” “Fuck... that’s deep, Dad. I don’t know what to say. So now Satan has come to collect... your soul, obviously, and drag you down to hell?” Suddenly David felt bad. He hadn’t seen much of his father, growing up, and now he was never going to see him ever again after this dream. Life for David, it seemed, had just hit a fork in the road. “It won’t be like that at all, Davey,” Satan Hernandez said, finally speaking, now that he was puffing away contentedly on his huge spliff. He drew slowly and deeply, before passing the weed to David’s father. “Your Dad and I are old friends. Why, he’s been to hell many, many times. Even got beach-front property there, next to the golf course and spa. Hell is very misunderstood, not like the Hell people imagine thanks to Dante Alighieri, that allegorical ass. Damaged my public image for centuries, he did. Hell’s not a bad place at all. But that’s the rules. Souls are like tax in Hell. Your Dad gets to live there forever, but he has to pay his dues, too.” Silence washed through the dream for what seemed like a long time. Finally, David was the one to break it: “What about me? I have to make a deal, too? But I can’t think of anything. I’m too young to make such a big decision.” He turned to focus squarely on his father: “What am I supposed to do now?” David Driscoll toked on the spliff for a long moment and considered all options. He finally came up with: “You could sacrifice some of your size. Lose, say, 60 percent of it. You’d still be huge, but not like you are now. What are you now, easily 2000 lbs. or more?” “2666,” Satan interjected jovially, liking so much about that number. “But... but... I like being this huge,” David looked down at his magnificent muscles, each one swollen and bulging beyond all extremity. He was ravenous for muscle-growth, but a deal had to be hammered out before this dream came to an end. “Tell you what,” said Satan, taking out a harmonica for no reason. He began to play his rendition of “Devil in a blue dress”. It was a most horrendous version. “I will take off 666 pounds of muscle and convert it into your soul tax. You get to live out your life as before, but your size will be frozen at 2000 lbs. Also, to secure future deals with your bloodline, you have to produce a son and heir. Artificial insemination will suffice, so long as the little tyke is born and has a soul, which he will have, obviously.” More silence ensued. David didn’t know what to think. Finally, though, as the flames began to shrink and die, casting the immediate area into a spreading dimness, he reluctantly agreed to get smaller. “Great, kid. You won’t regret it,” said Satan, pulling out a contract which David had to sign in blood. The deal was done. David would be the first of the Driscolls since before Efram to avoid spending eternity in hell. He said goodbye to his father and shook hands with Satan, before... ... he awakened with a start and saw that he was in Ray’s fuck bed. What time was it? How long had he been asleep? He quickly got out of bed, only to find Carmichael standing over him, a clean set of clothes draped over his forearms. “I trust everything is now clear with the Sir?” Carmichael had never smiled in all the years he’d served the Driscoll family. Now, for the first time, he smiled broadly, displaying a mouthful of pearly whites, their perfection marred solely by a single bad tooth... the very same one as... “It’s you. That dream was real. What the hell?” “What the Hell indeed, Sir. You should get dressed. It’s after 5pm. You were asleep for most of the afternoon.” Carmichael began to lay out the master’s clothes for the evening. “Wait, how small am I?” David raced downstairs to the weight room to check himself over. The place was deserted, unusual for this time of day... all evidence of the calamity his growing had resulted in had been washed clean. Everything was mundane and without any reverberation of events. “Hmmm, I’m still pretty fuckin’ huge,” he exclaimed, gawping at the hyper-muscularity that occupied almost inch of his hulking bod. He’d come out of this deal better than he expected. He was four times as huge as he had been at 7:00 am that morning. He flexed a humongous, freaky double biceps pose, and his arm cannons did a 21-gun salute to his hugeness. He flared his lats, and they became engorged on blood, hulking out his mass to insane levels. He bounced the heaviest pecs in all creation, whilst flexing his mammoth quads, one after the other. He became lost to his pec-bouncing and almost passed out when he felt so much manly pec-meat heaving up and down on his chest. His pecs alone must have weighed about two hundred pounds apiece. His measurements were totally off the scale. “I will always be the hugest, strongest monster bodybuilder on Earth,” he exclaimed, somewhat proudly, bunching his torso into a most-muscular pose, leaning all his weight into it to maximize the flexing and the size it generated. “But I can never get bigger than I am now. Not now, not ever.” It was a sobering thought. He returned to Ray’s office to get dressed, his body somehow clean of soil, but with just enough of his musk on him to make the night ahead be the best one of his life so far. The oddly supernatural Carmichael had brought a most splendid outfit for David to wear. And despite that the birthday boy had grown by 400%, somehow the manservant had found an outfit that fit him perfectly. David started by rolling on the pants. He always put on pants like any lesser man puts on a condom, for the material of this clothes always hugged his muscles so tightly. The pants were mustard colored, a spandex and polyester mix that looked like a second skin as it clung to his parts, showing every striation and separation of each massive muscle. His cock and balls were truly enormous, and David had a bit of trouble squeezing his junk-load into the crotch of the pants. But he finally did it, the doing up of each visible button of the five-button fly a miniature triumph. The pants had very wide bell-bottoms, but even the bells clung to his huge calves at their widest points. Being of an early seventies design, the exposed button-fly wasn’t the only feature that nodded back to the retro-fashion era; the front square pockets of the pants were square-cut and dark brown in color, the same as the pockets on the back. And his bubble butt looked so beautiful and shapely in the pants, his crack sucking in the central seam and drenching it in musk. Next he put on the most stretchy, clingiest disco-style button-front shirt he’d ever worn. The material was semi-transparent, save for the pattern on the material, which was comprised of so many crescent moons and shooting star motifs. The flyaway collar was high and broad, settling well over his massive traps, but, like the pants, David had trouble doing up some of the buttons, specifically the ones behind which the most bulging pair of pecs ever built sat squarely on the widest chest ever sported by a man. He decided to leave a few buttons open to show off the fine brown hair speckling his pec-mounds. He finished off the ensemble with a gold chain around his bull’s neck, sporting a medallion in the shape of a tiny bodybuilder frozen in a perpetual full-lat spread. Similarly, the buckle of his belt showed a bodybuilder flexing a double biceps. Carmichael brought stylists into the gym to cut and style the hunky David’s hair into a sexy seventies look. They lightened it to a coppery blonde and cut it tight at the back but left a long, flowing fringe framed on either side by manly sideburns which didn’t overpower his looks. Finally, when he was fully dressed, he stepped back to admire himself. “Pure 1973,” he remarked, posing and flexing for all he was worth, testing the strength of the shirt, especially the buttons, in case they started to ping. They held, although some threads snapped in the shirt’s arms when David flexed his biceps. “How do I look from the back, Carmichael?” “Stunning, Sir. The width of your shoulders compared to the absurdly small taper of your waist spans far wider in the relaxed position than even the biggest superheavyweight is capable of when pulling a rear lat-spread. Your back is a “W” up top, but a lower-case “v” at its bottom, diminished still further by the massive and globular swell of your rectal area, making the button-flap pockets of the pants sit way more horizontally than vertically.” Carmichael was good at describing stuff. David could easily picture how his pants looked from behind. He flexed his glutes to their fullest, causing the buttons on the pockets to strain as their endurance was tested. David turned to the side, to take in his incredible profile. He noticed that the ball-shaped form of his biceps and triceps had stretched the shirt sleeves to near-bursting point... and... oh god... his upper arms were thicker than his waist, thicker by loads. The huge bulge in the front of his button-flies was extremely prominent, and so David played around with his meat, adjusting it inside the pants so that the bulge stuck out as far as it would go, whilst still flaccid. The distance between the apex of his crotch bulge, and the farthest point of his bubble butt at its most flexed, was a mind-blowing four feet. But that was easily dwarfed by the distance between his nipples when his pecs were most flexed and the middle of his back. He was so big, his muscles primed and pumped, traps, delts, bis, tris, pecs, abs, serratus, glutes, quads, hamstrings, and calves... maxed out and bulging beyond belief. “I guess I will have to get used to being stuck like this, never to grow ever again. But I’m certain of one thing... this shirt will be shredded before the night is out.” It was David’s holiest vow to himself on his 18th birthday. “Come, Sir, the car is waiting. I have you booked in for dinner at the Fangucci Bistro for 7pm sharp. You’re at Elizabeth Hurley’s table. I... er... arranged for her to come down with a twenty-four-hour strain of sweaty-cheese-minge syndrome. You know how hard it is to get a table there.” Carmichael, the devil that he was, was such a cool guy to know. “Do I have a dinner date for the evening, too?” David was starting to get horny again. He would love to get to know the son of Consuela the cook, the hunky Manuel who took over at weekends from the regular gardener to the Driscoll Palatial Estate. He saw him in his mind, now, stripped down to his jeans, his Mexican body toasted a healthy brown in the afternoon sun, cooling down under the hose he used to water the plants, his manly flesh modest but evident in the visible cuts between his work-hardened muscles. “You’re getting boned, Sir. Might I remind you to be careful regarding the pinging of buttons? And your dinner date is Manuel, the son of the cook, if you must know.” Carmichael had a devilish glint in his eye now. Had he read David’s mind? End of Part 1

EROTICA A story inspired by the (slightly modified) lyrics to the Madonna song from the album and SEX book versions. Shout out to @Wrestlejock646 who inspired the idea of using song lyrics as inspiration, even if he didn’t know it at the time. You can always “hit me with your rhythm stick,” mate, “I wanna take a ride on your disco stick.” ========== ~ ONE ~ I’ve never done anything like this before, but it was well past time. I was already bored with my life as it was, the COVID-19 pandemic just took that boredom to the Nth degree. I am apparently in an 'extremely high risk' category when it comes to COVID-19, or so my doctor tells me. Based on the delta strain, I had an approximately 25% chance of death unvaccinated, dropping to ‘only’ 11% for double dosed, 8% for triple dosed, and 1% for four doses (with no data yet on more than four doses). The omicron variant, and the BA.4 and BA.5 sub variants were much milder, so presumably the risk for me now is somewhere south of 1% (now that I’ve had four doses). With those kind of odds, and the delta strain running rampant throughout 2021, and most of 2020 still full of unknowns - how deadly was it really? - I spent over two years from March 2020 confined to my house, no visitors, no shopping, pretty much total isolation. Thank fuck for the Internet - not just for day to day essentials like groceries, which I had delivered, but for social contact. Don’t get me wrong, I am eternally grateful for the ability to video chat with friends and family, and the ability to mutually jerk off with someone on camera, but, let’s face it, it’s a poor substitute for sexy times with a real, live human being, touching, stroking, kissing, caressing, licking, sucking, penetrating… you know, all the good things, all the arousing things. So I hadn’t had sex, real with-an-actual-person sex in nearly two and a half years. I’ve already said I was bored with my life before the pandemic, I was also bored with my sex life. I’m attractive enough, I suppose. I’m 186cm (6’1”) tall, and weigh 78kg (172lbs). I have no idea what my body fat percentage is, but I have visible abs and like to keep in shape. I’m of Mediterranean stock, so I have dark features - deep brown eyes, dark brown hair, and an olive complexion. I hate shaving with a razor, so keep my beard trimmed to a constant state of stubble of varying lengths, depending on how long since the last trim. But my sex life was pretty vanilla. I mean, a flip fuck or two is as kinky as it ever got - insert the Neil deGrasse Tyson ‘we’ve got a badass over here’ meme, right. I’ve never had a threesome or group sex, never used toys, never even really gotten rough. I DID say, ‘pretty vanilla’. But recently, I’ve been craving more. NEEDING more. I wanted to be dominated, I wanted kink. Maybe not hardcore BDSM, but I wanted things to get a bit rough, a bit outside my vanilla comfort zone. I also wanted muscle, someone to take control, use his strength, his power to put me in my place. Use me and abuse me, overpower me. I’m getting hard just describing it, I could only imagine what it would be like in reality. I found an ‘escort’ that sounded perfect. If he lived up to his description, it was going to be money well spent, arousal guaranteed. I was slightly nervous, because he had no photos. Not just not showing his face. No photo, at all. The description claimed he didn’t like putting up his photo because it created certain expectations, if it didn’t scare off the potential client, and he didn’t want any preconceptions to ruin what should be organic discovery, mutual exploration and pushing of boundaries. It sounded HOT, exactly what I was looking for. But anyone can put up a profile saying anything. So I had no idea what he looked like but, as I sat in the hotel bar, nursing a drink nervously, he knew what I looked like, insisting on a picture showing my face and a shirtless pic showing my top half. “Excuse me, Robert?” A deep, resonant, mellifluous voice. A powerful voice, commanding; used to getting his way. I turned my face up towards the voice, which was behind and to my right. My mouth dried up and gaped, my heart skipped a few beats then started racing, my dick chubbed. “Y-“ My voice cracked, because of course it did. I cleared my throat. “Yes.” “My name is Dieter. I’ll be your master tonight.”

With the author's permission I am reposting stories that were written for the old forum and were later deleted. Fortunately, I saved copies for myself because I like his work very much. This is a single-episode short story that might be referred to as a "one-shot," but the number of times you shoot while reading the story is entirely up to you. MISTER ALPHA by LORUS Lane Huntington took up most of the king-size bed at the Forbes Plaza Hotel, where he’d been staying at the expense of his mysterious benefactor, Ward Melchior. He had yet to meet the man in person, but already the enigmatic billionaire’s lavish hospitality had given the young bodybuilder a taste of what it was like to live a five-star penthouse suite kind of existence. Lane liked it. He liked it a lot... and he wanted it all. Stud-A stirred in his sleep to his left, whilst Stud-B, to his right, adjusted his position somewhat, feeling up the powerful bags of muscle that formed Lane’s impressively sculpted chest, but not entirely waking up. Lane loved every moment of it. The twinks were both Brazilian and tremendously beautiful, each one endowed with superstar looks, although Lane’s features – from head-to-toe – completely overshadowed them in just about every way. He’d just won the Mister Alpha Muscle Pageant, staged only that previous night, at the Forbes Plaza which was just one of a multitude of hotels owned by Melchior. The billionaire, it seemed, had a thing for musclemen... the bigger the better. Well... they didn’t come bigger than Lane Huntington. He was horny as fuck, although he’d milked both Studs dry several times during last night’s steamiest of bedroom romps. They were depleted and wouldn’t be of any use to him for hours yet. Melchior had insisted, over the phone, that part of the prize for winning the pageant was that he could order anything he wanted... room-service being only too happy to oblige. Lane was stiff as a board, now, and gazed down at his beautiful and super-ripped muscle-bod as he ran his fingers down along his rock-hard flesh, not a hair in sight, except for the thick, dark bush of his pubes. Elsewhere he was smooth and taut, and oh... how his muscles looked so beautiful... for they seemed to get bigger and better with each passing day. His fingers played, for a time, with his fully erect pole, and he gasped, constantly overwhelmed by its mammoth size. “Fourteen inches hard. Awww I can barely close my fingers around it at its thickest point. So much blood going into it.... heh... makes me light-headed.” He needed to fuck.... badly. Stud-A and B were sleeping off the ecstasy he delivered into them both via his huge fuck-rod, their rectal passages stretched beyond anything they could ever have put into themselves in the past. “Room-service,” he called aloud. Immediately a computer-generated woman appeared as a life-sized holographic display, projected from an orb set into the ceiling. There was one in every room. State-of-the-art technology... the best money could buy. “You called, Mister Huntington? How may I be of service,” the voice, a sample of that of actress Sharon Stone, politely inquired. “Bring me breakfast. I’m starving. I want eggs over easy, hash browns, bacon and mushrooms, coffee, orange juice and some bran muffins. And send up the two studly runners-up in the Pageant I so deserved to win. They’re gonna get so goddam fucked they’ll be singin’ like Shirley Temple for the rest of their lives.” Being the Alpha Male made Lane ever so cocky. He loved to be arrogant and self-obsessed. It boned him just thinking of words like that which so accurately described him. “Right away, Mister Huntington. Will there be anything else,” the cyber-Sharon inquired, as per her programming. Lane thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, tell me something I want to hear, bitch,” he growled, now jerking lightly on his rod just to get the precum flowing. “You are the sexiest... hugest... most well-endowed... motherfuckin’ sex-god, not only staying at the hotel, but in the entire world, Mister Huntington,” the hologram replied, smiling her polygonal smile, implying emotions she didn’t really have. “Yeah, you better believe it,” he snorted gruffly, bouncing his pecs to get the blood flowing better. “Thank you for choosing Forbes Plaza, Mister Huntington. Your room-service will arrive shortly.” And Sharon blinked-out in a trice. “Damn... I won’t be able to wait for shortly to arrive,” he growled, stiffening every part of him as he lay between the dreaming twinks. Precum drizzled down his dick in copious, sticky rivulets. His fingers were coated in it. And so, he licked each one clean, the taste intensifying his burgeoning lust. “The only gay in the competition that I know of, and I fuckin’ outmuscled every one of ‘em. Fuck yeah!” He couldn’t stop himself from turning Stud-B over on the bed and then straddling him, so worked-up into a lather of lust, that he must relieve himself into the exhausted, sleeping twenty-year-old from Sao Paolo. He entered the young man, his precum gushing out of him, now, adding to the manly soils already making the mattress damp. Stud-B winced and came awake with a start. “Unnnngh,” was all he could say (neither spoke a word of English anyway). “Take all these hunky, fuckin’ hot inches of my horny weapon....grrrrr!” Lane’s lust got lustier as he took the twink, ploughing so much length, so much wet, sticky cock into his tight-but-serviceable bubble butt. Stud-B moaned out of sheer bliss, clawing at the pillow that now engulfed his face, pressing his butt upwards with every ounce of his strength, pushing against Lane’s monstrous invasion, but the bodybuilding hunk’s power was too great. Stud-B passed out once more, utterly exhausted, but Lane, a master when it came to controlling his passions, held off from cumming, but momentarily swam through the reverie created by his ever-rising sense of bliss. He wanted more, however.... he wanted to mega-fuck. Room service arrived in the form of a very cute, quite well-built hotel porter, and he filled-out his uniform more than adequately. The youth, no more than nineteen or maybe twenty, was very beautiful and immediately Lane found himself drawn to him. Behind the porter, Max Mason, and Alfredo Desoto, first and second runners-up in the Mister Alpha Muscle Pageant, stood in just their posing suits from the night before. Glistening and rippling, the hunks seemed a little nervous, knowing what their fates had in store for them this day. But they had to comply. Ward Melchior would have it no other way. Lane made a bolt for the food trolley, but he noticed the bulge in the front of the porter’s workpants, deciding that right now the lad probably loved his job more than anything because he got to witness events of this magnitude: standing in a room with three huge bodybuilders and two unconscious Brazilian hunks. The smell of manly musk formed of precum, sweat and spunk, hung heavily in the air. Anyone caught in its miasma immediately grew hard, even Max and Alfredo, both of whom were happily married with wives and kids. Weren’t they all staying at the hotel? Lane didn’t care about such things. He only cared about himself and getting what he wanted. Lane gorged on the food as the porter stood next to the trolley, his brow dappled with the kind of sweat that suggested he was uncomfortable. “You gay?” Lane enquired, between mouthfuls of breakfast. He slurped his orange juice noisily. Despite that he was the most gorgeous man in the world, his eating habits easily tied with those of your average farmyard pig. “Uh, no sir,” the porter replied with a somewhat evident tremor to his voice. “Bet you do gay webcam, Sean Cody kinda stuff, to get yourself through med-school, though, or something like that. Bellboy wages can’t pay your bills alone.” “Unngh...I...er... have done stuff in the pa––” Before the lad could finish: “Get that sexy body of yours naked... by the time I count to five, or I’ll fuckin’ tear that uniform off you,” Lane, now done with eating, commanded as the Alpha that he was. No man would be able to resist him. He flexed a double-biceps pose whilst still seated at the edge of the bed. Massive upright peaks of rock-hard muscle exploded upwards, pressing against his thick forearms so that the pressure against the spaghetti-network of veins on his arms caused the blood within to flow even faster. The extra pressure made his veins bulge even more, and his hungry muscles gorged on the blood, fueling themselves to grow bigger and harder. Behind the porter, Max and Alfredo, confirmed heterosexuals both, balked at the idea of being dominated by Huntington, but when they saw how much bigger his biceps looked this morning – compared with last night on stage – primordial lusts awakened in them, and their cocks soon became too big for their tight, sexy posers. “What’s your name, kid?” Lane repeatedly bounced his pecs before the porter, his taut but pouting nipples pointing perfectly downward, each one somewhat blurred by the very crescent-shaped shadow cast by the jutting, bulbous under-swell of each pec-mound. “Unnngh.... Steve, sir... Steve Highway,” the lad answered, as he began to shrug off his clothing. “Nice name... but you’re too fucking slow,” growled Lane, and he shot off the bed, knocking over the breakfast trolley as he went, bounding towards Steve, almost with furious intent, his muscles seething, shifting as if in metamorphosis. With one tug he ripped through Steve’s uniform and gasped, smiling, at the sight of his thickly muscled, impressively shredded bodybuilder’s physique now on show. He was blonde-haired, and so he had a light dusting of fine blonde hairs across his thickly fleshed pec-rack. He shuddered against Lane’s sudden advances, and every muscle across his upper body flexed simultaneously. “Jeezus... you should have competed with me last night, not that you’d have won against me. But you might’ve finished sixth place, maybe fifth.” “Suh-sir.... please.... I have to get back to wo....mmmphfffff!” Steve’s ability to speak was silenced as Lane Huntington fucked his face with a tongue that would put a horse’s to shame. “I always get what I want mmmmmmm,” Lane boasted and sucked on Steve so hard, he could have cut off his air-supply, rendering him unconscious. But the lad was strong... and could be huge if he put his mind to it, so Lane thought. Lane now worked feverishly at Steve’s cock, delighting – gasping – at how it pulsed hugely in his grasp, filling out, thickening to a massive size. “Whoa... what you got down there.... unngh... ten inches, beer-can-thick?” Lane’s lust had him dripping cups of precum at a time. The carpet upon which he stood was soon sodden. “Mmmmpfff....gasp.... more like.... unngh... twelve, suh-sir.... eight and a half thick... oh god!!” “Well, you’re about to... unngh... feel what fourteen inches feels like.... fuck yeah.... I’m the fucking biggest in every fucking body-part.... unngh yeah!!!!” Lane blasted a full lat-spread right in front of Steve. Being three inches taller than the blonde six-footer, Lane hefted up his gloriously striated pectorals and his usually downward-pointing nipples shot into an outward-jutting position. The top of his pecs flexed so high, why... he could comfortably rub the tip of his nose against them. Beneath his nose, a dirty sex-mad tongue massaged drool all over his heaved pecs. Steve, overwhelmed by lust, began to suck on his nipples, firstly the one on the left, whilst pinching the one on the right between fingers that had so obviously performed this ritual before. He made his fingers to journey across the amazing topography of Lane’s back, tracing invisible lines along the bumps and valleys which his back’s musculature consisted of. The divisions between each muscle were deep enough to hide coins in. In fact, Lane Huntington’s striations could probably hide a couple of hundred bucks worth of change. “Alfredo, you pipsqueak... get behind Steve. Start working him from behind,” Lane snapped an order. Then, to Max: “Fuckwad... kneel on the bed behind me and stick that long tongue of yours you love to wag onstage to the audience, stick it far up my ass. Don’t stop tonguing me until I say you can. Grrrrrrrr.... get to it!!!!!” The runners-up to Mister Alpha Muscle, both stared blankly at one another, and quickly removed their wedding rings before carrying out Lane’s instructions. “Mmmm.... you’re the best fucking thing to come out of this,” Lane moaned, kissing Steve so hard, over and over, whilst the college student worked his hands all over the massive bodybuilder’s incredible physique. His muscles were beyond comparison. Secretly Steve wished he could get this big one day. Certainly, being with Lane, now, like this, heightened a muscle-lust Steve didn’t know he had. “From now on... forget whoring it online with your inferior fuckbuddies... forget any big-tittied-bitch you might have for a girlfriend. You belong to me now, Stevie... you got it?” Lane blasted out another insanely peaked double biceps, and Steve cupped each bi with hands he considered to be bigger than average. Still, though, he had trouble getting his fingers around the apex of each bi. They were huge, over thirty inches each, easily putting his (moderate by comparison) twenty-one-inch guns to shame. “Yessir... I’m your boyfriend now... unngh,” moaned Steve, feeling the invasion of Alfredo’s rim job from behind, a new experience to them both. He returned his attention to Lane’s nipples and moaned in awe when Lane began to bounce each pec, so that Steve had to wrestle with his tongue to nip at each erect bud. Lane loved to have his nipples nipped at. He screamed out his bliss, which served to heighten the lusts of the others. Stud-A and B, now fully awake, began to fuck one another, enjoying the arousal of the orgy occurring before them. It went on like this for a long time, finally culminating in Lane Huntington blowing a massive load, so much warm, salty cream on tap for everyone present. Everyone showered in it and drank of it, for with balls that could swell to the size of touch footballs, Lane Huntington could produce a massive amount of spunk at a time. He fucked each one of them many times over, creaming again and again until it seemed he could never stop. His orgasm lasted for hours... it was unbelievable just how huge and sexually charged he had become. Finally depleted, they each one and all collapsed into a mountainous muscle pile atop a spunk-wet mattress with Lane forming its super-solid base, Max, Alfredo and Steve in the middle, and the Brazilian studs clambering on top. The bed groaned to support the weight of six men, with Lane Huntington the heaviest of them all. Lane slept soundly, so pleased with who he was and what he was capable of doing. It was brilliant being Mister Alpha. Epilogue: When he awoke, things were very different. He was alone in the hotel room, the bed immaculately fresh and clean. In fact, not a trace of the sex he’d had could be found anywhere. It had become a spunk-free zone. “But... the fuckin’ room was drenched in the stuff,” he reasoned. Even the mess from the toppled breakfast trolley was nowhere to be found. The entire suite was clean as a whistle. The massive bodybuilder got off the bed and quad-waddled from room to room. Everything was neat and in place, all signs of his earlier company non-existent. Could he have dreamed it? No way, for it was too real. He had been the muscle master, so much in control... but now? He was alone. The silence was disquieting. He decided to call for Room Service. Immediately Sharon the Cyber-Babe appeared, shimmering in holographic hues that alternated between various blues and greens. She was beautiful, if you liked that sort of thing, he figured. “Hello, Lane. How may I be of service?” Her voice was sensuous, soothing.... perhaps even hypnotic. “Where are the others? What’s going on here?” He didn’t like feeling out of control, but something about his sudden situation made him feel helpless, far from at ease. “They’ve gone, Lane. The average human can only take so much pleasure,” Sharon politely explained, grinning pleasantly, albeit artificially, “However, it could be argued that an Alpha like you was never average to begin with.” “I want to speak with Ward Melchior. I won his fuckin’ pageant, so I get to live out all the pleasures I deserve,” Lane, his anger rising, exclaimed harshly. “You are speaking with her, Lane. My name is Ward Melchior,” the hologram’s smile seemed more animated now... certainly more human in its aspect. “You.... you’re him? Buh-but....aw shit, this is fucked up.” He began to pace back and forth, gripping his temples as if to keep his skull from exploding as his brain struggled to make sense of what was suddenly going on. “I will try to keep it simple, Lane,” Ward Melchior explained, her body fleshing out into a more earthly palette, firming up, solidifying, but still vaguely translucent. “I’m all ears, lady,” Lane gruffly blurted. “You were in an accident. Your car went off the road and struck a tree. You happened to be near my research clinic when it happened and so the paramedics brought you to me. An ordinary man would have surely died, but as a bodybuilder you were afforded some protection. Alas, you couldn’t be saved. Fortunately, we specialize in preserving the human synapses and uploading them to our server, the Forbes Lowell Ethereal eXperience, or FLEX for short. Forbes Lowell was my father and founder of the clinic. He died two years ago, but he lives on as Steve Highway, the muscle-twink porter. Heh, he’d always hated his original name. Melchior is my name by marriage. I’m married to the world’s most renowned computer programmer who helped to build the FLEX server.” Ward paused speaking in order that Lane could digest what he was hearing. He found it difficult to get his head around it. “Wait... you’re telling me that I’m....DEAD? Buh-but, why the charade? Couldn't you have been a little more forthcoming with the truth?” A look of total perplexity washed across his handsome face. “Physically you are dead, but your brain patterns have been uploaded into your cyber-self. In essence you are still mentally alive... and always will be. These scenarios, or charades, are essential to gradually ease you into your new experience, hence the hotel and bodybuilding pageant scenario. In addition, your cyber body is even better than the real thing. Look,” said Ward, and sidestepped to allow a mirror to form up in front of him. Lane gazed. Lane gasped. “Jeezus.... I’m fuckin’ enormous,” he cried, completely shocked by his reflection. “We thought you’d like the improvements we made to your physical parameters,” said Ward with a chuckle. “It’s like that movie Vanilla Sky... the one with Tom Cruise in it,” said Lane, now posing like he’d never posed before. His body was “hulkingly” huge: easily three hundred pounds heavier than it had been when he’d been alive and competing at a shredded weight of 275. He massed into a bulging showcase.... a massive most muscular that flooded each muscle with humongous weight and definition. “Gonna pop,” he snarled, loving every moment of how he suddenly felt. “Well, this program was around before that movie was even thought of. But the comparison you make is sound.” Then... after a moment to allow Lane to further enjoy his massively sculpted, super-bloated and altogether beautiful body, she added: “We... can make you even bigger than you are now, Lane.” “Huh? How big?” He only half-heard her, so rapt was he on blasting out insane poses, muscles bunching ferociously, vascularity pushed beyond maximum, skin stretching snake-fashion to accommodate his muscular engorgement.... muscles climbing over muscles, smothered by their own combined mass. “Beyond your imagination, Lane,” said Ward, and before Lane’s disbelieving eyes, she morphed into Steve Highway, only this time he was as hugely muscled as Lane was himself. “Huh, I thought you said that Steve is your father. Jeezus, this is confusing.” Lane’s head began to swim from a combination of sensory overload and a sudden rush of blood southward, as his now twenty-inch cock sprung to attention at the site of the Steve Highway character displaying muscles as huge as Lane’s. “We like to share this image, from time to time. I’m still alive and have commitments beyond the server, so when you’re with Steve it’ll mostly be my father. But he’s sleeping now, so I get to use the body.” Ward/Steve moved closer to her/his new boyfriend, a secret which she would keep to herself and not inform her techie husband, for she had ways of keeping him out of her affairs when she traversed the server in cyber-form. “So your dad swings both ways, huh? I guess I’m okay with that.” Lane locked lips with Steve, their drooling tongues salivating with muscle-lust. Their huge, hulking muscle-bods became laved with musky sweat, their senses overwhelmed by their incredible, stunningly beautiful masses. The kissed for ages, fucked intensely for even longer, time seeming to stand still on the server, their lusts ever rising. And as they fucked, they grew to titanic proportions, thousands of pounds of muscle seethed across them, their dicks and balls swelling ever larger to cope with the demands made of their burgeoning lusts. “Don’t....gasp... let this end... not ever.... gonna cum.... gonna cum forever, fuck yeah!!!” “That’s doable,” gasped Steve, and with the merest mental command, both men shot massive loads whilst tonguing each other, slurping up each other’s cum as quickly as it was issued. They drank and drank... came and came. Time was meaningless here. And they continued to grow in every way imaginable... or unimaginable. Their orgasms intensified, their muscles bulging ever larger.... way larger.... too fuckin’ large, but then not large enough. Alpha became Omega. The circle closed and was re-opened.

Hi guys I have transferred this story over from the old forum. Pt 4 is still getting written I will have it out ASAP BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ, Bobby Jr presses the entrance buzzer outside HM Longside Prison and waits. A few seconds later the door unlocks, "Enter" came the voice from the intercom. Bobby Jr walks in and heads to the sign in desk. "Bobby Jr here to see Bobby Sr" he tells the officer sitting at the desk. The officer looks at Bobby. "You look just him!!" The officer replies as he hands Bobby a visitor pass. "Head over to the search area then to the waiting room, then they'll call you from there." Bobby takes the pass and heads over to the search officer who goes over his body with a metal detector. After this is done he directs Bobby to the waiting room. This was Bobby Jr's weekly visit to see his father. Bobby Jr is 18 and his father has been in prison for around half his sons life. Bobby Sr was sent down 6 and a half years ago following the reopening of a case in which he was accused of assault and lethal battery at the age of 18. At the time he was accused of crushing a young mans head in at a illegal underground fight club, at the same event he brutally murdered his brothers friend. Other incidents include the savage beating of his next door neighbours son and 2 on duty police officers. At the time their was amazingly no overwhelming evidence to tie him to the murders. That was until 6 years ago when the case was reopened following the recovery of a bodycam during the demolition of his house, which was found to belong to one of the deceased police man. A trial ensued and Bobby Sr was found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment. Bobby Jr had been waiting around 5 mins when the visitation officer came to get him and lead him and other visitors to the prisoner visitor room. As they were walking to the room Bobby got a message, he had a quick glance and it read, " All is in place BB, 8PM tomorrow at the old location" The message was finished with a punching emoji,a boxing glove emoji. An happy but slightly unerring evil grin became etched on Bobbys face. He quickly replied back " fucking yes, can't break a family tradition!!" The door to the visitor room opened, Bobby Jr walked in and instantly saw the mirror image of him sat at the table only difference being his dad was 20 years older. Bobby bound over and gave his waiting father a hug. "Oooomphhhhh" cough cough, " pretty strong like I was at your age son!" Bobby Jr's bear hug nearly squeezing the life out of his dad. "Looks like the test affect has taken hold, looking broad son! Told you you could trust Vasily!" Bobby let go of his dad and chuckled, "seems I've more than definitely acquired your freaky genetics dad, 250kg for 10 on bench press earlier, won't be long till I'm hitting 300kg and yes I'm looking huge, got pics to show you later." Bobby takes a seat opposite his dad. "So son how has the 'other' training been coming on? You managed to break my record yet hahaha? Also last week you told me you were waiting on further info about the event, so come on tell all?" Bobby Sr enthusiastically asks. Bobby Jr again etches the unerring evil smile on his face, reaches into his pocket and gets his phone out. " I thought you'd never ask pops, your record was 6 padded and 4 steel in one hour?" Bobby asks as he scrolls through his photos, his dad nods in agreement. "Take a look at these!" Firstly Bobby shows his dad a photo of his basement gym, the boxing area completely empty and time stamped at 1456pm. Bobby scrolls across to the second pic, time stamped at 1556pm, the pic made his dad's eyes bulge, the boxing area was now full with 12 completely destroyed padded boxing bags and 8 mangled steel columns. " Double what you got dad, fuuuuuuck I'm something special aren't I!" Bobby exclaims. "Damn son you seem to be a shit tonne stronger and more powerful then I was at 18, I can safely say your definitely gonna own this event, whatever it is." Bobby's dad beams with delight as he knows his son will most certainly be carrying on his work in some way. " So son I'm intrigued to see what Vasilys test has done in helping you with your physique, as I said earlier your looking broad!!" Bobby Sr asked. He wasn't wrong. Bobby Jr's frame belying his 18yrs, even through his super tight clothing you could see the orbs that formed his shoulders, 2 juicy thick slabs of pec stretching his top, every bend of his arms forced his biceps to bundle n bulge into a powerful peak. " Just look at this, took this fresh after a upper body session this morning!!" Bobby Jr selected the pic and showed it to his dad. Bobby Sr eyes again bulged when he saw his sons large physique. "Fucking hell son, lean but sweet Jesus you have a shed load more muscle than I did, seeing that I can now understand how you destroyed more bags n colums then I did. Please tell me your gonna be putting all that power and muscle to good use!!" Bobby Sr asked. Bobby Jr's eyes lit up, he smiled once again, " Now that you mention it! You see, there hasn't been any sort of meet ups like you did back when you were my age with Uncle Johnny, so I started asking round a couple of months ago and low and behold I've managed to get one up and running, same location as back in your day too, got confirmation on the way here for tomorrow being launch night. Can't wait now! Been a while since a D'eath has competitively broke a few bones and the odd skull!!" As his dad was about to answer the buzzer went for time up. They both got up and embraced each other, "Can't wait to hear how you've done son!" Bobby Sr whispers into his sons ear. Bobby Jr acknowledges him, "Off course, no one's gonna beat me!" With that he turned and left. As he was walking out he got his phone and made a call, " Hey its me, on my way back, is everything ready?" An evil grin came across his face as he listened to the reply, " Excellent, why wait till tomorrow to start!" He ended the phone call. Bobby arrived home around 20 mins later, he was met by Vasily, "So where is the little shit Vas?" Bobby asks as he peels his top off, his huge frame glistening slightly from having the top on, he cracks his bull thick neck and rough calloused knuckles. " He's In the area down the basement sir!" Vasily replied, " this one should not take you too long!" Bobby turned back and looked at him, " The short n sweet ones are just as enthralling, I'll let you know when to make the call!" Bobby opens the basement door and shuts it behind him. He walks down the stairs into at first a dimly lit but we'll equipped basement gym. He turns a corner, and there in the middle of the floor is The Area, which has more light surrounding it. Stood in the middle was a guy in his mid 20s,blindfolded, stripped to the waist, his body was uncomparable to the mass of Bobby's, he was thin and athletic, Bobby must have had at least 90lb on him. The guy could hear Bobby coming. Bobby entered The Area, "Name?" He barked at the guy. " S s s ssimon" came the fear laden answer. "W w w w wwwhooo aare you?" Bobby reached out and tore the blindfold off, with the other hand he instantly wrapped it round Simons thin neck and easily hoisted him 4ft off the floor. "Your not Simon anymore…….." he brings Simon face to face with him, "..... your practice!" Bobby tightens his grip round his neck and swings the rest of his body round on to his collosal shoulders and beefy traps, he uses his other hand to steady him. He then lifts Simons body up and few feet then slams it down hard across his traps and delts, to Simon it felt like being bashed against solid stone, each slam met with a loud masculine grunt and the crunching of bone. After 6 shattering slams Bobby let's Simons broken body fall on the floor, he turns round and looks down at the bruised body. Simons breathing now slow, painful and crackly. Bobby kneels down next to him, grabs his head and sits him up, Bobby lifts his right muscular arm, his deep, sweaty, hairy teen pits oozing a masculine scent, he rams Simons head deep inside and holds it there, Simons body begins to convulse, he is fighting for breath but Bobby's pit is suffocating what life is left. After around 30secs Simons body goes limp, for extra reassurance, it wasn't needed but Bobby loves to experiment, he tenses his tricep and slams it down on to the side of Simons head, a dull crack broke the silence, Bobby lifted his arm and saw a sizeable dent in the side of his victims head. He pushed the body off him, he got up and made his way back upstairs, he opens the basement door, Vasily is sat waiting. Bobby smiles at him, " 3mins 26secs! Quickest yet! Make the call! " Bobby continues upstairs to go and shower and change. Vasily began a video call. The organiser of the fight club wanted evidence that all competitors have what it takes to go "All the way!" Vasily began walking round the dead body paying close attention to the deformed torso and broken head. A few mins later the voice of the organiser spoke, " This is acceptable, full confirmation is now given to attend tomorrow, Bobby will be the youngest competitor, he will fight first." The call ended. The next day Bobby woke up at 8, he looked at his plan for the day, all it read was, food, 2hrs push workout including boxing, inject, more food, and in capitals FIGHT NIGHT. Bobby made his way downstairs to the kitchen were Vas was preparing his pre workout breakfast, as well as it being fight night it was also the start of a major bulk phase for Bobby, he turns 19 in 2 months, the goal, to be the biggest, strongest, meanest 19yr old there is. His starting cals would be 7250 per day, with a steady increase every few weeks. Bobby sat down in front of 2 huge plates of food. Vas had prepared 4 bagels, 300g oats mixed with 80g of protein powder and 2 rump steaks, a whopping 3066 cals. Bobby demolished it all in 15 mins. "That didn't even touch the sides, I'm feeling good about today, feeling STRONG" he flexes his unpumped 18 n half inch bicep."Time to go and destroy my chest!!" Bobby leaps off his chair and heads down to the basement, Vas follows with a medium sized zipped up black case. Once in the basement Bobby heads straight to the bench press. "Load that to 100kg man while I stretch!" Bobby orders Vas. Vas nods and loads the bar to the required weight, " thanks, now fuck off and get the punch area ready, gimme 20 and 12 I'm feeling goooooooooood!" Bobby says. "Yes boss, enjoy your workout!" Vas replies as he walks to the other side of the expansive basement gym ro prep the punch area. Bobby peels his tee off, he loves to workout topless, seeing his muscles bulge before his very eyes. He lays down on the bench, grabs the bar and easily hoists it off, he then fires out 50 perfect reps, 100kg nothing to him. He racks it, looks at his reflection, his pecs already bulging, he adds a further 50kg, again easily getting 25 reps. His pumped pecs, still with enough power for more. Bobby whacks it up to 200kg, 17 reps. He stands up, " No more fucking games, I'm doing it!!" He screams out. He adds a further 100kg to the bar, his previous best was 250 for 10. "ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH" He screams, he instantly lays back down, grabs the bar, he slowly but steadily hoists the bar off, as he lowers his arms begin to shake, but he growls as it gets lower, he then begins pushing up with all his strength,it goes up a little easier, " YOU PUSSY ONE MORE" he yells to himself, again the bar lowers, pain etched on his face, but he wasn't giving up, again he begins to push up, he slams the weight back on the rack,he gets up and looks at his reflection in the mirror, his pecs were beet red and bulging with sickenly pumped muscle, he grabs a near by mug, he squeezes it into his pec gap, he twists to the side and hits a side chest pose, as his pecs bunch up they inflict a devastating amount of power on the mug, CRRRRACCCKKK, within seconds it's in pieces and fell to the floor. He begins to march purposefully over to the punch area, Vas had only just finished putting the last steel beam up. "Move out of the fucking way!!" Bobby barks. Vas knows by now that when Bobby is in this mood he does well to stay clear, he leaves the area. Bobby descends on the first of 20 punch bags, his fists primed ready, "1" bam,bam,bam SMASH, "2" bam bam bam SMASH. With unerring power and accuracy Bobby begins a 3 punch demolition job on the punch bags, after every 3rd punch the bag explodes, as the onslaught continues his punches get harder and harder, he breezes through the rest, with one to go, he composes himself, his knuckles crack as he clences and unclenches his fists, he primes his left fist, BAM, SMASH, with one punch the last bag obliterates. "The Power!!!" He strides over to the 12 steel beams and begins a similar destruction job, after only 6 punches on each the beams buckle and give way to Bobby's ridiculous power. Once he had finished he strode over to where Vas was standing. In one hand Vas had a 2500cal gain shake and in the other a 2ml syringe of a misty coloured liquid. Bobby grabbed the shake and downed it in seconds. "Do it" he orders Vas, Vas pins the needle into Bobby's meaty delt. The super mix of Test Enth, Test Cyp, Tren, Deca, Winny, Dbol and Growth starts circulating through Bobby's body. "Time to rest now Vas, need to get myself mentally prepared for tonight." Bobby heads off to his room. It's 830pm later that day, Bobby and Vas have arrived at the designated place for the fights. They are both sat in the competitor zone along with the other fighters. Bobby looks round, a focused and powerful look etched on his face, he sees that he has a physical size advantage over a few of the other fighters, but the power he knows he has means that he is not afraid of the bigger ones either. Deep down he wants to test himself against the much bigger fighters but also can't deny that he'd like to completely annihilate one of the smaller ones too. "OK Bobby," Vas says, " your first on remember so remember the rules, you have 5mins to either snuff the fuckers or put them in a worse condition then you come the end. That's the only 2 ways you win, if it's feeling easy, put on a show like I know you can!!" Bobby turns and cracks a little smile, " if anyone lives I've not done my job right Vas, I've run various scenarios in my head, I know what I'm gonna do!" Bobby quickly returns to deep concentration. At 845pm a announcement tone comes through the speakers, BING BONG, " Could Bobby and Martyn please make there way to the fight zone. Without even a acknowledgement of Vas Bobby gets up, he looks and sees Martyn. Martyn was one of the smaller fighters, his physique was one of a seasoned gymnast, he looks over at Bobby, his eyes easily giving away that he finds Bobby's bigger physique intimidating. They both make their way to the fight zone, they meet in the middle, Bobby's physique easily dwarfing his opponents, his dominating gaze fixed on Martyns ever growing look of worry and trepidation, Bobby cracks his neck and bounces his bulging pecs in intimidation. After being reminded of the rules by the organiser they separate to their respective ends. A bell indicates the start of the 5min timer. Bobby strides in whilst Martyn moves more cautiously, Bobby moves closer and let's fly with a few ghost punches, he purposely leaves his midsection exposed hoping his opponent would take the bait, he did, Martyn aims a hefty punch at Bobby's midsection, it's met with a dull thud, a slight wince appears on martyns face, laughing and sensing strike 1 Bobby loads up his left fist and let's fly with a strike plum in the centre of martyns face, Martyns nose shatters as he collapses onto the floor, he stays down, in and out of consciousness, " Get up and fight!" goads Bobby. Martyn gingerly gets to his feet, "4 mins remaining" came the call. Martyn advances once again letting fly with punches but Bobby easily blocks or dodges. Bobby gets closer, letting fly with a quick one two to Martyns midsection, Martyn stumbles back against the padding, Bobby senses his opportunity, he moves in quicker, with fists super charged he begins a rapid punching onslaught to the midsection of Martyn, left,right quicker than the eye can see, Bobby's fists connecting with organs and bone in equal devastating fashion. Bobby's punches are so hard, bone starts breaking through skin. After 20secs of constant beating, Bobby stands back and aims one final punch the the side of Martyns head,he hits the floor in less then a second, his body gyrating as he is rendered unconscious. Bobby bends down and with one hand scoops up Martyns nearly lifeless body and brings it closer to his, with his other arm he proudly flexes his clearly pumped bicep and begins to parade around the fight zone. " Let it be known that the D'eaths are back and I fear no-one!" Bobby announces him self and then with one powerful squeeze of his arm he shatters Martyns spine and let's the lifeless body drop on the floor. He walks off back to the competitor zone where Vas is waiting for him. "Enough of a show!" He snarls as he walks past him. The fight club is weekly so Bobby's next round would be a week later. After a quick freshen up they start making there way home. Their route home takes them through a industrial estate,with it now being pitch black it was difficult to see what was around them. They were nearly through it when suddenly there came a flash of light from the left, quicker then they could react two figures appeared and dragged them into a building. THUD, Bobby's spins round and sees that Vas has been knocked out. "Vas!' He turns back round and is met with a rocket powered punch to the face, Bobby collapses to the floor, as he looks up he sees a huge figure of a man, bending closer to him, he feels himself getting dragged up, then BANG, another hit to the face, a third is attempted but a familiar voice intervenes. "Enough for now Ivan, get him up" came the voice. Bobby feels himself getting picked up and sat on a chair, Firstly he looks at his attacker, a tall broad guy in his mid 20s, he had the physique of a off season pro bodybuilder but the strength of many a men, it takes a lot to knock Bobby of his feet. His gaze then turns to the man approaching him. "Uncle Johnny??" Bobby asks in surprise. "Hi Bobby, I see you've already been made welcome by Ivan here, its amazing how strong those Russians get, now before I let him continue, how's your father doing inside, miraculous how that bodycam footage just appeared wasn't it haha!!" Johnny replied. Bobby, slightly groggy but able to speak, " You fucking traitorous bustard, it was you, you thought my dad was mean, well wait till I get my hands on you!!" Johnny smiles, " tut tut boy, think its time you learned some manners, over to you Ivan" Johnny replies as he walks away. Ivan walks over to Bobby, he picks him up one handed from the chair, he then head butt's him twice, shattering his nose, he throws Bobby on the floor, he grabs him by his tee and slams him hard back first on the floor twice, he then grabs Bobby by his arm hoists him till he is on his tiptoes then begins pounding his midsection, Bobby is a tough nut but even his defences are starting to weaken now. Ivan grabs him with both hands and lifts him over his head and launches Bobby against the wall. Bobby lands with a thud. Ivan walks over , kneels next to him, lifts Bobby's head and aims two powerful punches to his face, knocking him cold out. Ivan gets up, walks out and locks the door behind him. After what only felt like seconds the darkness was slowly pierced by the Bobbys eyes reopening as much as they could and letting the light in, at first everything was a blur and he could hear mumbling noises which sounded like his name being called out. After a few more minutes his eyes got used to the light and the mumbling became distinctively clear, he was hearing the familiar tone of Vasily calling his name, " Bobby, bobby can you hear me!!" Bobby shirked and nodded his head, as of yet unable to speak due to his face being in a bad way from Ivans beating. He looked around and saw that he was in his bedroom, he tried to sit up but pain shot through his back, he winced and stayed lying down. Vasily leaned forward, " Don't try to move yet Bobby, your still in a bad way but im slowly fixing you. What did that thug do to you man?? Don't be mad at me as im kind of to blame! You see until last night i thought i was still pals with your uncle Johnny, he approached me some months ago and ask to me to come up with a anabolic which gifted both size and strength in rapid time, i explained to him that i would need to test it before drafting a final product, but your uncle was having non of it and didnt care for the testing, and who am i to question a D'eath!! So reluctantly i set about making the anabolic, i sent it off to Johnny but heard nothing. So i assuming he used it to create that freak from last night!" Bobby tried to smile but he couldn't, " No need to apologise Vas, you werent to know, but one thing is for sure they are going to pay!!" came bobbys slow croaky response. Vasily took Bobbys hand in his, " That is in hand young sir, because you see, i made 2 anabolics for johhny but only gave him the one, the other i have kept since and been constantly tweaking it, adding new variants to it, i ran the final compound through a modelling system this morning, i entered all your stats and figures into the system and it came back with a 100% compatible match, so once your all better we can start to pump you full of it, it works just fine by itself but it also makes you very very hungry so were gonna combine it with a very high calorie food plan, i estimate the full course will take 5 days, so lets get you better and get you HUUUUUGE!!" Over the next few weeks with help from a physician, Vasily got Bobby back on his feet, stretching, getting used to being active again, slowly increasing his calories in readiness for the huge mass eating phase coming up. Bobby slowly got back to gym work, he'd not touched a weight in 4 weeks but he could still rep out 150kg like it was nothing. Finally 4 weeks after the incident Bobby was ready to begin the 5 day growth phase using Vasilys improved formula. (the following part im doing as a diary entry style as wanting to focus more on the good stuff later on!!!) Day 1, 2ml jab on waking. Morning weight: 180lb. Breakfast cals: 6500. Bench press( 10 reps): 200kg, Deads(10 reps): 270kg. Squat(10 reps): 220. Lunch cals: 4500. 100 pull ups. 100 press ups. Teatime cals: 4500. 1 min timed: 20 bags, 10 steel columns. Pre bed cals:1000. Day 2, 2ml jab on waking. Morning weight: 220lb. Breakfast cals: 8500. Bench press( 10 reps): 270kg, Deads(10 reps): 310kg. Squat(10 reps): 260. Lunch cals: 6500. 150 pull ups. 150 press ups. Teatime cals: 6500. 1 min timed: 35 bags, 22 steel columns. Pre bed cals:1500. Day 3, 2.5ml jab on waking Morning weight: 300lb. Breakfast cals: 10500. Bench press( 10 reps): 295kg, Deads(10 reps): 340kg. Squat(10 reps): 295kg. Lunch cals: 8500. 210 pull ups. 210 press ups. Teatime cals: 8500. 1 min timed: 42 bags, 30 steel columns. Pre bed cals:2000. Day 4, 3ml jab on waking Morning weight: 380lb. Breakfast cals: 11500. Bench press( 10 reps): 330kg, Deads(10 reps): 390kg. Squat(10 reps): 320kg. Lunch cals: 9500. 260 pull ups. 260 press ups. Teatime cals: 9500. 1 min timed: 51 bags, 37 steel columns. Pre bed cals:2500. Day 5, 3.5ml jab on waking Morning weight: 450lb. Breakfast cals: 12500. Bench press( 10 reps): 400kg, Deads(10 reps): 470kg. Squat(10 reps): 360kg. Lunch cals: 10500. 310 pull ups. 310 press ups. Teatime cals: 10500. 1 min timed: 70 bags, 50 steel columns. Pre bed cals:3000. Bobby woke up on day 6 and made the familiar walk to the bathroom for his morning weigh, he can hear and smell his breakfast getting cooked downstairs by Vasily, he gets to the bathroom and before he even looks in the mirror he gets on the scale, he looks down at the number, the scale reads a staggering 502lb!!! He looks in the mirror and sees the final result of the past 5 days. "Fuuuuuuck!!!" came the deep loud cry form Bobbys mouth, " there is definitely gonna be no stopping me now!!" This is what Bobby saw in the mirror: Underneath his still youthful but rugged bearded face were what can only be described as 2 large atlas stones covered in thick dense juicy lean muscle that made up his shoulders both looking big enough and powerful enough to do brutal damage to anything it touched. Leading down to a gargantuan set of arms, both look they would stretch the tape close to 30 inches and easily bigger then some guys heads, quads and even waists. He looks at his pecs, both thick enough even unpumped to stand a dumbbell vertically on the shelf. Flanking the chest were some insanely thick wide lats, even unflexed they were wider than some flexed lat spreads, they added to what was already some incredible overall width, shoulder to shoulder Bobby had to be at least 3.5ft wide, add at least another 1.5 when flexed!! Make no mistake about it this was lean mass gain of the highest order, his body still holding a relatively low amount of body fat which made his muscles bulge and make his overall appearance look frightening which was the ultimate goal. Bobby bound downstairs to the kitchen where his colossal breakfast was waiting for him, Vasily took one look at Bobby, smiled and nodded his head. "Yip its safe to say i got that formula spot on, that thug stands no chance against you now Bob, your at least twice his size and ALOT stronger too!!" Vasily added. Bobby proudly flexed his huge guns, peaks bigger then anything they had both seen formed on his arm, rising nearly past half way up his forearm, underneath his arm revealed 2 dark cavenous pits, easily big enough to house the luckiest of heads. " You got that right Vas, that fucker stands no chance im going to fucking annihilate him, destroy him, make him beg to stay alive!! But im a D'eath and revenge is my only game!!! I need to test this strength and power on some unknowing souls, get it sorted Vas!!!" Bobby barked. Again Vas just smiled, " that is all in hand, i knew you'd want to have a trail run, so last night i took the liberty of getting hold of a said soul, he should be round in an hour, whilst your having fun down there i'll be finding out where Johnny and his thug are camping out and we can pay them a visit tonight!!" Bobby cracked a dominant smile, " Your the best Vas, im heading down to prepare, bring the soul down when he gets here!!!" Bobbys marches off down to the basement to prepare. Upstairs, Vasily was using all his contacts he could to find the whereabouts of Johnny and Ivan, every now and then the silence getting broke by the loud growls and the banging of extremely heave weights by Bobby in the basement. Around 45 mins later the bell rang, Bobbys soul was here. Vas got up, opened the Basement door, he was met with a powerful stench of teen muscle sweat and musk, " He's here Bob, get ready!" he said. All he got in reply was a bone shivering growl!! Vasily got to the door and opened it, in front of him was a guy in his early 20s, he looked around 200lb, slightly muscled but more fat, a casual gym goer you;d say, he had a bright red t-shirt on, emblazoned on the front were the words, SOME GUYS LOVE MUSCLE WROSHIP, GET OVER IT! Vas smiled, " You must be Rob, come in, Bobby is downstairs waiting, i'll take you down!!" Rob smiled, " Thanks man, ive never seen Bobby on the scene before, must be new, im looking forward to it!!" He follows Vas. Vas opens the basement door and leads Rob down, quietly locking the door behind him, once downstairs he leads him to The Area, where there is a single chair in he middle of the lit up area, Vas point to chair. " Take a seat Rob, i'll go and get him for you, i hope you enjoy it as much as he will" Vas says as he walks off, Rob sits on the chair and waits with giddy excitement. A few mins later Bobby broke the deathly silence, " So you must be Rob huh, well Rob im Master Bobby, get a load of this!!" Bobby steps out of the darkness and into the lit up Area. Rob looks up at the huge 500lb monster in front of him. " WHHHOAHHHHHH!" came robs response. " Jesus you are huge!" Rob gets up, to any other guy 200lb would look big, but next to Bobby Rob looked pathetically small. Bobby looks at him and gives him a bone shivering evil grin, " its time to have some fun!!" Bobby growls. Without giving Rob any time to reply, Bobby moves in quickly, grabs Rob by the neck of his tee and tosses him up in the air as though he were a tennis ball, he threw him with such power that Rob collided with the ceiling in less then a second, and such was the force his body cracked the cement in the ceiling. Robs body landed on the floor with a thud, his limbs shattered and facing in all sorts of directions, his breathing slow and crackly, his life 85% took out of him by a single throw from Bobbys monster arm. Bobby marches over and looms over his prey, he reaches down grabs Rob by one of his broken arms and lifts him effortlessly of the floor, his feet dangling in the air, he pumps up his huge pecs, he brings Robs head towards them , he rests his chin on top of his bulging left pec and lets go leaving Rob being held up by his awesome pec size and power. With Rob hanging from his pec, Bobby places his hands on both sides of Robs torso and begins to squeeze, within a matter of seconds Robs breathing was drowned out by the loud shattering of bone inside him, skin begins to break and bone cut through, blood seeps out all over but Bobbys grip remains strong, Bobbys hands condensing Robs torso as easily as squeezing a sponge, Bobby looked into Robs eyes and watched whatever life was left drift away leaving a mutilated corpse at Bobbys devastating disposal. The only part of Robs corpse that was not mutilated was his face, although bloodied and bruised from the impact with the ceiling it remained in one piece. Bobby quickly set about putting that right, he grabs the back of Robs head cups it in his hand and brings the head away from his pec, he raises the body slightly, he tenses his pecs and with the same force in which he tossed him up to the ceiling, he brought Robs head down on his tensed pec, CRAACCHBOOOOM. Robs lifeless head combusts, splitting his head in all different directions. Bobby tosses the unrecognisable mound that was once a human on the floor, grabs a towel and wipes the blood off his pumped huge muscles. He marches back upstairs to Vasily. " Please tell me you have more good news Vas!!" Bobby asks. Vas looks at him and nods confidently, "we got them!"

Here's another blast from the past written by Lorus for the old forum and saved in my private collection of erotic gems. I'm reposting it here with the author's permission. Mike Hugeman was mentioned in BOOM!, the short story I reposted earlier, so I thought it would be good for readers to know who he is. No one who meets the Hugeman ever forgets him. I certainly haven't. The story has eight episodes followed by a teaser for a sequel. I will post all of them in the same thread. MIKE HUGEMAN SUPER-POWERED MUSCLE WHORE by LORUS Episode 1 The room shook from the force of Ken Preston having the fuck pounded out of his cute bubble-ass. It was his birthday, this day, and he’d used the money he’d gotten from his parents to hire the Hugeman for an afternoon, rather than put it towards his new car. The greatest gay whore in the entire city of Stillbrook didn’t come cheap either, considering he charged five hundred dollars an hour. Not everyone could afford him, but Ken had been building up to this for an entire year of scrimping and saving, deciding that if he was going to lose his virginity, then he was going to do it in style, with the best dick in the world impaling him along its incredible length. “Oh God, this is fucking... ugh... amazing. Don’t...ugh... want it to stop!!!!” Ken was face down on the bed, knees dug into the sheets so that his angelic, heavily lubricated ass pointed upwards. Mike Hugeman, the most super-huge, awesomely massive mega-bodybuilder in the world, rode into the youth with all the experience his craft would ever provide him. He was super-hung, sporting a dick that was a solid eighteen inches long when fully hard. It was thick, too, thicker than a beer can. Given that this was Ken’s first time having sex of any kind, Mike was surprised at just how well he took his meat, imagining the kid probably practiced every day with dildos of ever-increasing dimensions. He loved his work, and was proud of his physical accomplishments, often posing and flexing his enormously pumped muscles during the fucking of his clients. He was versatile, too, and would often grant his customers many of the requests they made of him. Ken was new to this, sure. He would be exhausted afterward, which suited Mike. He had to get to the gym within the hour. It was leg day, and his wheels needed an intense workout. He’d already made the kid shoot his load just by bicep-flexing five minutes after arriving at the dilapidated hotel room. He was used to better surroundings, but reckoned the kid was on a tight budget. Besides, he’d had cockroaches for spectators before, and had fucked in worse places than this. The kid was inexperienced, but his balls were big and round and held a lot of jizz. He would bring him to another incredible orgasm before the hour was up, after which any sex Ken would ever have in his life after this would never match up to the ride he got from the Hugeman. “Take it all in... all of my massive muscle-meat, you little twinkster, yeah fuckin’ moan and scream the Hugeman’s name, ugh yeah!” The bed took as much of a pounding as Ken did, for it groaned under Mike’s huge weight, which was getting close to six hundred pounds, since he’d really thrown himself into his beloved bodybuilding. He loved lifting and he loved fucking. You could say that he lived for these pastimes and nothing else. He was well-known in his native Stillbrook and was totally out about his whoring and his desire to get bigger and stronger. No other gay whore in the city could make the kind of money Mike made, so it could be said that he was the king of his hill, with fuck all in the way of competition. But that was soon to change, along with his life, forever. Meantime, he brought the twinkster to a howling orgasm once again and flared his lats in triumph as his organ, gorged on blood and pumping for all it was worth, penetrated Ken over and over, hurting him in throes of awesome ecstasy from which the eighteen year old hoped he would never recover. Usually, Mike was wider than most doorframes, loving how he had to squeeze sideways just to get in and out of rooms. When he flared his lats it seemed like his body got wider still. Coupled with the rush of his orgasms, his energy levels would peak, and his muscles spring erect and huge. When he flared his lats during ejaculation, he was at his biggest and widest, and the skin across his back groaned in defiance of his increase in size, almost to the point of splitting apart and causing him injury. But it never did. He was strong as an ox... hell... he was strong as a dozen oxen. Ken’s time was almost up. Mike had been pacing himself and could have climaxed long before now. In truth he had a hyperactive sex drive and could easily be ready to orgasm again just two or three minutes after cumming, and his tennis-ball-sized gonads acted rapidly when it came to replenishing their jizz stocks. “Fuck me to death”, pleaded Ken, but Mike would never do that. Despite his ruggedly handsome looks and tough-guy persona, he was pretty much a nice 22-year old Italian American, with only an occasional short fuse, who still found time to visit his Sicilian mama for the best home-cooked pasta in all of Creation. He often joked to his friends that it was his mama’s cooking that was to blame for his enormous muscle-growth. In all honesty, the hunk had no idea why nature had singled him out with such an incredible ability to grow a huge, hulking muscle-bod. He loved getting larger, showing up at get-togethers and causing his friends to gawp in disbelief at how much larger he’d become since they’d last seen him. This got him thinking about the gym, now, and satisfying his other voracious appetites for the good things in life. It was time to blast the twinkster out of it. He gripped the sides of the bed as he gave one final lunge into Ken, his body tensing as it hardened into a seizure of ejaculation. A gushing torrent of creamy spunk erupted from Mike’s eighteen-incher, and he positively adored cumming inside his clients. He didn’t care about disease, for it was impossible to find condoms to fit his gigantic whore’s dick, and his doctor was astounded by the fact that having had unprotected sex with more than four thousand paying clients since he’d started out at just sixteen years of age, that he hadn’t once picked up an STD. He really was a superman in every sense of the word, with a superb immunity to disease that was unprecedented. Ken screamed his loudest as the Hugeman ravaged his hole, pumping a massive load of cum into his body. Even after pulling out of him Mike continued to spurt cum all over his newest client. More and more of the steaming cream soiled Ken and the bed they rode on. Mike then grabbed hold of Ken and firmly turned him around on the bed, so that he was facing up. The look of sheer pleasure on the youth’s face was a sight to behold, and his gaping mouth seemed hungry for Mike’s elixir. He did not disappoint and eagerly shot more and more cum, this time allowing Ken to swallow a great deal of it. “God, it seems I can cum more and more as I get bigger,” Mike bragged and allowed Ken to take his fill. Finally exhausted, Ken slipped into a satisfied slumber, spread-eagled on a grimy bed, and drenched in the Hugeman’s spunk. “My work here is done,” said Mike, and muscle-strutted into the ensuite bathroom to take a shower. The plumbing groaned and spluttered as he lathered himself up with the shower gel from his kit bag. As it was summer, he seldom wore a shirt when he was out in public because he simply loved to show off his gigantic muscle-bod. He was a regular sight on the streets, posing for all he was worth, sometimes allowing guys to come up and touch his thickly-veined muscles, but only if they had cold hard cash for the privilege. Mike Hugeman never gave anything away for free. It simply wasn’t his style. He decided to get ready for the gym here in the hotel room, which didn’t take long. He’d arrived wearing only stretch-denim jeans, his upper body glistening from a mixture of sun-tan lotion and baby oil. Now he placed the jeans in his kit bag and pulled on a sexy pair of black and blue striped spandex workout shorts that did little to tone down the massive bulge his cock and balls formed at their front. He couldn’t wait for it to be larger, too, for it seemed that his cock grew another inch for every fifty pounds of muscle he put on. “Fuckin’ HUGE,” he declared as he bounced the massive shelf of his pecs up and down for a couple of minutes as he dried his ravishing black hair with a hairdryer. He was completely beautiful and loved how his father’s looks married so well with the Italian in him. He’d once been told he looked like a cross between a young John Travolta and Robert Redford. He agreed with this comparison, but reckoned he was many times more handsome than the two actors in their youth. Mike got more and more beautiful with each passing day. He had sparkling blue eyes set beneath a confident brow that complimented his rugged, square jaw-line beautifully. He had full, pouting lips, the bottom larger than the top one, and when they parted to form a smile he had perfect white teeth. He always maintained thick, designer stubble which went well with the curly black hair on some of his chest, which he never shaved. He loved having a lot of hair on his front, and he especially loved how his chest hair tapered down to a fuzzy treasure trail that formed a pleasurable tongue’s highway between his chest hair and his thick but trimmed pubic tuft. At the special request of some of his regular customers, he never shaved his armpits, and the dark bushy growth he had in them was so beautiful, merely lifting his arms and flashing his pits was enough to drive some of his customers to complete, frenzied orgasm. It was time to leave. He sprayed himself with sexy cologne that enhanced his natural masculine musk and flexed some more in the mirror before helping himself to the cash the twinkster left beside the bed. There was a business card sticking halfway out of Ken’s wallet, not that it was any of Mike’s business. But curiosity got the better of him and so he looked at it. And then he got mad... very mad. Episode 2 The sensation that he was no longer asleep, but instead floating mid-air in a slight summer breeze, brought Ken Preston shrieking back to consciousness. He was no longer spread-eagled on a cum-sodden bed, or even in the hotel room, for that matter. Mike Hugeman had taken him up the fire escape to the roof of the hotel. Somewhat maliciously, the massive muscle-whore dangled him over the side, holding him only by his right wrist, like a small child would carelessly carry around a beaten-up old teddy. Beneath him was a twelve story drop that would surely kill him were the Hugeman to let go. “What are you doing to me?” Fear had caused Ken to urinate but thank goodness nothing else came out of him. This didn’t make sense. Why had Mike taken him up to the roof of the hotel? What had Ken done to deserve such a fate? The giant muscleman got to the point somewhat gruffly. “Why do you have an UltraZen business card in your wallet?” In the hands of the Hugeman, Ken Preston hardly weighed anything at all. He leaned out over the edge as far as he could extend his bull-strong arm, causing Ken to kick and dance in mid-air as he tried desperately to get closer to the roof. “I don’t... don’t know what that is, Mike. Puh-pleeeese, let me back in. I’ll pay you more money, I swear. I’ll cash in my college fund.... just please let me...” “That wasn’t the answer I expected, you little bastard. Shit, I think my fingers are losing’ their grip.” Mike feigned a worried look as he pretended to lose hold of the terrified teen. Then, ever so audaciously, Mike ripped off his spandex shorts, causing his dick to spring forth like a striking rattle snake. It instantly grew super-hard and began to ooze copious amounts of precum. He brought Ken in a bit, flipped him around and rammed his ass with his dick, but only halfway along its length. Then he stood perched on the edge of the roof, so that Ken was now once again dangling, held in place by the power of the Hugeman’s cock alone. “Look, mama, no hands,” Mike goofed, and imagined his dick growing bigger and bigger whilst impaling Ken and pushing him ever further from the edge of the roof. To emphasize just how in-control he was of this situation, Mike shot a massive bicep pose, cranking up his guns from their cold size of 32 inches around, to a staggering 42 inches. Whilst Ken quaked in fear on the end of his monster dick, the Hugeman kissed each of his biceps, flexing them harder and harder, forcing more and more blood to distend his veins, bulging them outwards like thick, ropy cables. “Pity you can’t see this from your position, twinkster. You’re missing one hell of a show,” Mike boasted, marveling at how monstrously huge and powerful his guns were becoming. Every day it seemed that he’d grown a little. He was constantly in awe of just how massive he was. But he was never satisfied with his gains. He wanted more and more size, strength, incredible beauty, and unbeatable power. He began to contract the muscles in his groin, causing his dick to bob upwards, still with the terrified young man impaled on it. “Hey this is a great workout for my dick muscles. You must weigh about one-fifty. Hell, I could perch two more of you on my hot super-cock, and still bounce it upwards. I’m just so goddam fucking huge and powerful. I’m so ultra-fucking-gorgeous. But I don’t like to be fucked with. I won’t ask you again, what the fuck is an UltraZen card doing in your wallet?” Sobbing fitfully, Ken was as truthful as he could be. “It’s my dad’s wallet... his spare one. I luh-lost my own a while buh-back... so he gave me his one. It muh-must be his cuh-card.” In the street below, a curious crowd had begun to gather. The Hugeman considered what Ken said, and after a minute decided to let him in. He placed the crying birthday boy down on the rooftop and stood towering over him, his body heaving with power in every sinew and fiber that made him so amazing. He flared his lats somewhat threateningly, but in truth posing helped him to think clearly. “Hmm, you could be telling the truth. You seem honest enough. But if your father works for those crooked bastards then I’m going to fuck him harder than I fucked you.” It was a vow which Mike promised to keep. He went to his kit bag and pulled out a spare pair of shorts which he quickly put on. They were grey in color and immediately a precum stain formed in them, but Mike didn’t care. He was just minutes away from causing so many guys in the locker room of Joel’s Gym on Church St to make with their own precum. “I hardly see my dad, ‘cos he’s always working. I think they may be clients of his. He’s in advertising. That’s all I know, Mike. I swear.” Ken was still crying. Mike suddenly felt bad. He pulled a clean towel out of his bag and gave it to Ken to dry his tears with. “Sorry about that. I guess I got carried away. UltraZen tried to recruit me into their organization a couple of years back. They offered me a free health assessment and free membership to their ultra-modern super-gym. But all they really wanted was a sample of my tissue to experiment with. They think I’m some kind of mutant, ‘cos I can grow so big. A mutant, can you fucking believe it?” Ken now understood why the Hugeman had flown off the handle. But the experience still had him rattled. “For what it’s worth, I wasn’t gonna drop you, twinkster. And even if I had, I could easily have leaped down to ground-level to catch you before you hit the concrete.” Smiling the most beautiful smile Ken had ever seen on any man, actor, supermodel, athlete or bodybuilder, Mike did a side chest pose and hefted up his medicine ball-sized pectorals, beefing them up to super-striated status. His chin immediately became lost in the meat of his upper pecs, creating the illusion that his head was about to be devoured by his muscle-tits. He couldn’t wait to inflate these babies through further workouts. He really was obsessed with his bodybuilding and obsessed with himself. “I deserve a free session for what you did, Mike. It was cruel of you.” Fear and upset rapidly began to give way to anger. Ken had every right to be angry. Mike thought about this. He guessed the kid was right. He dug into his bag to return his five hundred bucks. “No – keep the money. I meant another session, on the house, of course. Or I’ll tell the cops what you did to me.” “Hmmm, Hugeman in the State Pen for attempted murder. Lots of jailhouse ass for me to pound. Communal showers and I heard they’ve got one of the best gymnasiums in the state. I could get really fucking HUGE in jail, not that any cell could hold me.” Mike scratched his gorgeous stubbly chin as his mind set off to explore such a fantasy. In jail he could be worshipped far more intensively than in normal life. But on the other hand, he’d miss his mama’s pasta. Nah, it was best to keep on the right side of the law. “Blackmail doesn’t suit you, twinkster. But you’ve got yourself a deal. One free session it is. But not right now, ‘cos I have to get to the gym to beef up further. You can come by my place tonight at 9pm. I live at Pinewood Heights on Reginald and Main, Apartment 12, on the top floor. I promise not to dangle you from my balcony. I usually do webcam hulk-outs at that time, but tonight, for you, I’ll make an exception.” That said, the Hugeman leaped into the air and out from the edge of the rooftop. In a single bound he was across to the adjacent building, coming down heavily with a mighty stomp powerful enough to loosen every tile on the ceiling of the rooms below. He chuckled to himself, delighting at how huge and hulking he was. Suddenly the unexpected happened. The force of his connection with the second rooftop was enough to jar the body of the peeping Tom who’d been observing his antics through binoculars. The guy was dressed in combat fatigues, but he seemed too fat to be a real soldier. He staggered drunk-fashion out from behind an extractor fan assembly and puked up his McDonald’s lunch all over his boots. “What the fuck? Were you spying on me you fat fucking pervert? I’ll break you in half for that. The Hugeman never gives it away for nothing.” Fuming, Mike snatched the binoculars from the peeping Tom and crushed them into tiny bits of broken glass, metal, and plastic. He felt like ripping out the extractor fan unit and using it to beat the living crap out of the fatty. He was strong enough to do it, too. He thought about the prison fantasy again. “Puh-please... don’t hurt me,” the slob in camouflage pleaded. On a hot day like this the smell of expelled stomach acids soon became unbearable. Mike wasn’t hanging around. He was going to charge this pervert for the privilege of watching him perform on the twinkster, and so he grabbed him by the scruff of his fatigues and searched through his pockets for a wallet. He found it without any trouble. It bore the motif of UltraZen. Mike’s blood began to boil. He flared red in the face and puffed himself up to a massively muscular rage. He soon forced a confession out of the peeping Tom, whose name turned out to be Lenny Simmons. Mike listened to everything he had to say: “They hired me to watch the boy. I slipped the business card into his wallet when he dropped it at McDonald’s before meeting you. It was meant to get your attention. After the kid left the hotel I was to take him out with a tranquilizer dart and drive him to an abandoned warehouse at the docks – unit 108. There the kid would have your jizz extracted from him. What they do with it after that is none of my beeswax” Mike needed to flex while he thought about this. He pushed out a crab pose that caused his muscles to striate massively, bunching together with almost electrical ferocity. Like the comic book Hulk, anger seemed to inflate Mike lately, something he was curious about. If he could make an actual ability of this, then he could will himself far huger whenever it pleased him to. He was getting turned on, too, and his second pair of shorts began to part at the seams as his cock, once again, stood to attention. The wet bulge inflating in his crotch was enormous. Simmons couldn’t take his eyes off it. He wasn’t gay but his contact at UltraZen had given him a dossier on Hugeman, and the gigantic bodybuilder had fucked straight guys before, just because it suited him to. The shorts would not withstand a full erection, not when he was this angry, boiling blood surging through every last inch of him. “Get the fuck off this rooftop, Simmons. And don’t contact UltraZen under any circumstances. Your driver’s license was in your wallet, so I know where you live. Think I’ll be holding on to that for insurance. I’m going to pay a visit to that warehouse. If you warn them I’m coming, I’ll pound that house of yours into rubble, with you in it. Got that?” When the Hugeman spoke, he had to be heeded. Simmons, his fat lips blubbering, hastily made an exit. Mike set off towards the Stillbrook docks, his shorts just about managing to keep his junk in place. It had been a long time since he’d been this angry about something. The word “UltraZen” was enough to drive him into an indignant frenzy. What further enraged him was that he might miss his workout for the day. And for that he was going to make UltraZen pay dearly. Episode 3 For a henchman, Artie Pimms asked way too many questions. UltraZen’s Arkadian Stoat tugged at his electrically air-conditioned black mackintosh and tried to remain calm and sane. In truth, he was failing at keeping Pimms from grating on his nerves. If something interesting didn’t happen in the next 60 seconds, he was going to have to cause a public nuisance, simply to keep from going around the bend. Pimms shifted nervously from one foot to the other, surveying his surroundings with an almost pathological level of suspicion. It was abandoned, here at the docks, the perfect place for UltraZen to spring its trap. “Do you think it was a good idea having Lenny place the card in the kid’s wallet, boss?” It was Pimms’ umpteenth question in several minutes. Stoat wanted to kill the obsequious troll in man’s clothing. How in all the cosmos did these “inbreeds” make it onto the company payroll anyway? The mind just boggled. “For the third time, already, I planned it this way, Pimms. The Hugeman has a short fuse and hates all things UltraZen. How else could I get him to come here? Simmons is about as stealthy as a rhino with whooping cough. He’s almost as bad as you for messing things up. Stillbrook’s arrogant muscle whore will be here, and soon. I guarantee it. Now do me a favor and check your weapon. You may need it. And do it quietly!” Stoat adjusted the settings on the electro-blaster he carried with him, making sure it was set for maximum output. He would only get one shot at this. The only way to stop a man as huge and powerful as Mike Hugeman was with an electro-static force-field that could jolt even the most superhuman nervous system into complete but totally reversible shutdown. Positioned out of sight, keeping to the gloom cast by the shadows of some empty packing crates within the spacious sprawl of the virtually empty Warehouse 108, Mike Hugeman would have to possess x-ray vision to notice his adversaries before they noticed him. Stoat silently prayed to St Norris (the Patron Saint of B-List Bastards) that this wasn’t the case. Within minutes there was a loud, thunderous sound of something heavy hitting the concrete outside. Nearby car alarms sounded as the impact set them off. Young ladies screamed in terror, but then seeing it was the Hugeman, began to get moist for him and wish he wasn’t gay, oh and er... yeah... a couple of dogs barked or something. The Hugeman was really pissed off as he tore through the docklands looking for Unit 108. This was causing him to miss his workout. He got madder and madder, and this seemed to make him get a little bigger, which wasn’t a bad thing, he reckoned. But his shorts were about to disintegrate from the immense pressure his inflating glutes and erecting dick caused by pushing outward in opposite directions. When he found Unit 108, he smashed through the large slide-doors, pulverizing metal and wood and whatever else the fucking things were made of, the force of which made him totally lose his shorts. He didn’t care. Looking down at his massive whale-dick excited and pleased him. But he snorted in a rising rage, thinking that it wouldn’t get to be glorified in the gym today, if the day’s events kept causing him to get sidetracked. “Come out from hiding, you UltraZen bastards,” he boomed, his gargantuan roar powered by an incredible set of lungs. He was getting stronger and stronger. He could feel his body bulging all over. He had to capitalize on this effect, but also clear his head to think clearly. When silence returned to the warehouse’s echoed interior, Hugeman flexed, sweet fuck did he flex, greater than he ever flexed before. He squatted down a little, bending his legs at the knees, so that most of his weight was carried by his shimmering quads. He crabbed down into a most-muscular pose, squeezing his balled fists so tight, he could compress coals into diamonds had he been holding them. This incredible pressure, aided by a snarl that added deep russet tones to his cheeks, sent a shockwave of flexing, bulging superpower throughout his exceptional system. Energy crackled in pulses along his body’s veined super-highway, energizing his circulatory system to hulk up into overdrive. Massive, thick cords pushed out of a 22-inch neck. His body exploded into hyper-muscular relief, with extra inches popping out everywhere, his weight increasing significantly. He couldn’t wait to get this business over with so that he could beat all his lifting records over at Joel’s Gym, with a full retinue of horny, awe-stricken, paying worshippers gathered around him, just the way he liked it. He would have it no other way. He posed and flexed, flexing huger still, and posed until he could think more clearly. He pounded his granite fists together, sending further pulses of shocking power throughout. Growling and snarling – gruffly lauding his bodybuilding superiority with an exceptional nod to superior masculinity – Mike screamed the place down as his glistening, colossal physique bulged more immensely than ever, muscles bulking up so fast, his skin stretched almost to the point of sheer translucence. His definition was mesmerizing. His hulking pecs widened and deepened, and when he bounced them, it took slightly more effort on his part, the mass of the pec-bellies at their greatest so far, so that their momentum seemed more gradual, but no less rhythmic. This pleased him very much, and his hard-on raged with greater impunity. “My God,” Arkadian Stoat gasped from behind the vantage point of crates, then cursing himself for uttering a sound. He wasn’t gay, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate just how much larger Mike Hugeman had become since last their paths crossed. He had failed, before, to secure the genetic samples he craved in order to experiment with Mike’s unique muscle-building properties. UltraZen thrived on defense contracts. Should they patent an elite super-soldier for sale to the highest bidder, they could become a major world power in their own right. Hugeman was the key to mastering this design. And Stoat, as head researcher for UltraZen Industries, was under a lot of pressure to reel in his prize catch. Today he vowed not to fail. Luckily the Hugeman hadn’t heard him make a sound, so caught up was Mike in his flexing and muscle-gaining. With an enormously delta-shaped back bouncing rays of glorious sunlight back through the skylight through which they came, Mike was oblivious to the stealthy, snake-like advances of Stoat, as he carefully eased his way closer to his quarry, the electro-blaster primed and ready to be fired. Stoat would only have one shot at this. He signaled with a nod for Pimms to ready the overhead net conductor. It would fire from a cylinder high above the Hugeman, something that had failed to catch his eye, fortunately for Stoat. So far things were going by the numbers. But still, caution was the only card to play. Mike was overwhelmed by his flexing, and the obsession he had with growing, coupled with the rising strength he felt surging in him. His balls swelled with jizz, and he would have to expend it soon before frustration got the better of him. He began to stroke his huge whale-dick, completely awed that it seemed, now, to be at least an inch and a half longer than it had been earlier, back in the hotel room with Ken Preston. Saint Norris’s Ghost, Stoat mentally gasped, not expecting to get a full sex show from the biggest muscle behemoth the world has ever seen. He was an out and out heterosexual, but if that was the case, why did Stoat feel the front of his trousers getting tight? No, this cannot be. This fucker cannot be turning me gay, he thought, but then lost the run of himself and said the last bit aloud: “I won’t allow it!!!” Hearing this caused the Hugeman to turn around like a whirlwind, just as his cannon dick was about to release its salty torrent. Several life-changing things happened in the space of one and a half seconds. The force of Mike’s massive discharge spewed forth with the pressure of a fire extinguisher, blasting into Stoat across a distance of about twenty feet. Gripped momentarily by his most powerful self-induced orgasm ever, Hugeman was temporarily paralyzed, but that did not matter, for the blast of his jizz knocked Stoat off his feet, sending him sprawling, just as Pimms pressed a button on his remote control, blowing the cylinder above both Hugeman and UltraZen’s head researcher. Stoat fired the ultra-blaster, but something went terribly wrong. Coils of Tesla-like energy arced into the torrent of cum that existed briefly between Hugeman and Stoat, creating a brief circuit through which the gun overloaded. The connection was only a fraction of a second in duration, but the conductor net fell over them both, holding in the charge for a little longer. Dazed and confused, Hugeman rolled around in the net and soon became trapped. Like an idiot, Pimms sprang to help his boss, reaching out to grab his arm where it stuck out from a gap in the net. Stoat writhed in agony as energy danced impishly across his suffering but scrawny frame. As soon as Pimms touched his hand, he absorbed most of the energy, which now siphoned off into him. He was knocked back into the packing crates, smashing through them. He screamed for all of his worth as anomalous energies scorched him... reshaped and rewrote him. Likewise, Stoat was also rewritten to a certain extent. This was a day that would live in infamy, no doubt about it. When the lightning show eventually ended, Mike found the strength to tear himself free of the confining net. He felt weak and he staggered to his feet, his dick now limp and pendulous as it swung from his movements. “Am I... smaller? Oh, please God, please no.” He cleared his head and rubbed his eyes to get them into sharp focus. He looked down at himself... well, his gaze got as far as his pecs and would go no further, for his muscle rack prevented it, it was so bloated and huge. He flexed his forearms and bis, squeezing his balled fists to crank up the flexing to its fullest. He breathed a sigh of relief, for he hadn’t shrunk at all, despite the sapping of his strength. In fact, he thought he might be even bigger. Thinking this quickly energized him and lengthened his dick to a semi-flaccid state. Still a bit groggy from whatever it was his assailant had shot him with, Mike turned to look down at the living mess caught in the net. At first he didn’t recognize the charred, wizened man. Then, as he studied the sooty face a little further: “Arkadian fucking Stoat. I should have known you’d be behind this,” the Hugeman growled. Stoat just moaned something incomprehensible but appealed to the Hugeman to be freed from the net. He poked an even bonier arm through the netting, hoping the giant above him would take pity on an injured scientist. Hugeman scowled and thought about pissing on the little runt. “Puh-please have pity on me, Hugeman. You can see I’m beaten, finished. I know when I’m licked. At least help me to my feet so that I can check on poor Artie. I think he took the worst of it.” Mike thought it over and bounced his pecs so as to clear some space in his head. Maybe UltraZen would leave him alone, now that Stoat had seen the new, bigger, and more powerful Hugeman. They simply couldn’t beat him. Stoat looked old, broken down, emaciated. He was no threat to the Hugeman, Mike decided. And so, he extended a huge hand downwards, offering it reluctantly to Stoat. When Stoat touched Mike’s hand, he felt a rush like no other. Although his body didn’t change shape or size, he leeched off a great-deal of Mike’s incredible power. Mike, towering above the scientist, felt his legs turn to jelly, weakening to the point of being unable to stand under his own power. In contrast, Stoat snapped himself to a standing position in a trice, almost squeezing the life out of the Hugeman. Instincts that were new to the older man coursed through him, now, and with the merest tug of his arm, wrenched the Hugeman into the air, with force enough to expel him upwards, higher, and higher. He crashed out through the roof of the warehouse, soaring ever higher into the summer sky. Stoat watched it happen, marveling at what he had just done. But how could this be? He decided there was time for analysis later. For now, he just enjoyed the worried squeal from Hugeman, gradually fading as distance claimed him. “Sto...aaaaaa...aaaaat!!!!!!!!!!” “No, dear boy, from now on I won’t be going by that name. Oh no...” He looked at his burnt hands and marveled, wonderingly, at the crackling, residual static charge that arced between his clawed fingers, energy that seemed to leech the power out of the most powerful man on the planet. Stoat took a new name and shouted it aloud: “From now on... I will be called... Man Handler!!!!!” To be continued . . .

[Hey folks, first time posting a story here. Some of you may know me from my tumblr Broodingmuscle. This story will feature MMA fighting, dominance, forced exercise and feeding, and fast but realistic muscle growth. Eventually there will be some little bro revenge because that’s my jam. Let me know what you think, sorry no growth in the first chapter. - Broody] Fight Night: Part 1 Stick vs Meatball “Welcome back to the Underground Fighting Championship, I’m head commentator Fred Williams. Our next fight in the Flyweight division is going to be something I’ve never seen before. Curtis “Stick” Quick, the division’s tallest fighter will face his polar opposite, Tony “Meatball” Pizetti who replaces an injured competitor. I’ll ask my fellow commentator Al Sharp, what do you make of this crazy match-up?” “More like mis-matchup my friend, wow! As the fighters take their places in the ring you can see that the 6-foot-1 Quick just towers over Pizetti who stands a mere 4-foot-1.” “And yet, Al, and yet… look at these other stats, Pizetti is the heavier fighter, coming in at the regulation upper limit of 126 pounds, while Quick is a mere 123 lbs. What happened there did Quick over-correct trying to make weight?” “I asked his trainer this very question and the answer may surprise you. Curtis Quick has always been a super-lean guy, in fact he got into fighting as a kid because of how much he got picked on for being skinny. He’s never cutting weight for a fight, always trying to maintain or gain weight to stay competitive in the Flyweight rankings.” “And so he doesn’t blow away in a stiff breeze. Good Lord someone get that kid a sandwich!” “Well speaking of a meal, look at Tony Pizetti! “Meatball” is an apt nickname for the stud just look at all the muscle piled into this short stack. I just did a quick calculation and proportionally if Pizetti was as tall as his opponent, he’d be a whopping 280 lbs! Just look at those massive arms, they’ve twice as thick as Quick’s! Pizetti may not have the ultra long 80” striking reach of his opponent, but you better believe a body like that is going to do some damage if this goes to the ground.” “Pizetti’s wingspan is certainly respectable at 60” for a man his height. He’ll have to get inside to do any punching, but this is mixed martial arts! Expect some dominant wrestling from this pint-sized Hercules.” “And now the announcer is being ignored by both fighters during the introductions. What intensity as they yell smack-talk across the ring at each other. Quick says something about Pizetti shopping for his tights in the boy’s section. Pizetti-- oh my god!-- reaches into those same tights and pulls out his XXL cup! He holds it up to the audience and his tights snap back to form an outright elephantine bulge! Now he’s calling out Quick’s own fashion sense, with his loose shorts hanging down to his knees to hide his skinny legs, and what other inadequacies? As the referee scolds Pizetti, the short fighter grins and makes show of the compressing effort required to stuff those enormous genitals back into the protective device.” “Well Al, I don’t know about you, but the fight hasn’t even started and my blood is already flowing. I think the ring girl just fainted! And Quick looks a little pale, I don’t think he expected to be shown up this badly by a fellow just about four feet tall!” “Well as the bell sounds to start the round, we’ll see if Quick has a comeback to all that!” “And he does, a lighting fast left jab hits Pizetti full in the face! But he’s fast enough to raise his guard and block the follow up right which thuds impotently against the Meatball's thick forearm. Pizetti advances to try to get inside, but gets caught in the gut with a front kick from Quick that pushes him back into a more comfortable range for the taller fighter. This time Quick’s one-two combo hits the mark both times but Pizetti shrugs off the punches! He taunts Quick by sticking out his chin, his face plastered with a mocking grin and The Stick takes the bait, launching a straight right down the center which Pizetti ducks easily. The Meatball powers an uppercut drawn from somewhere in this arena’s basement and smashes into Stick’s jaw!” “Oh he’s hurt! Goddamn it if I didn’t feel the force of that punch from the ringside. How he’s even still standing after that hit I do not know but he manages to back away and bat aside Pizetti’s follow-up shots drunkenly. He was definitely rocked by that blow!” “The Meatball bulls his way inside and goes for a double leg takedown, no wait a double leg lift! He picks Quick’s slender body up like it’s a pencil and slams his foe brutally to the canvas! Oh my god, that has gotta hurt! Pizetti falls on him like a log dropped onto kindling and Quick tries to scramble out the side. No dice. Pizetti hauls him back, gets into full mount and rears up for some devastating ground and pound. A few hits from those sledgehammer fists and Quick’s face is bloodied up like raw hamburger. Quick's coach, his big brother Butch Quick, is yelling obscenities that would make a sailor blush from the corner.” “The ref calls out for Quick to fight back or he’ll end it and the fighter finally responds, flipping his legs up to catch Pizetti’s head between them. Quick wrenches down and the power of long limb leverage launches The Meatball halfway across the ring to land on his head! Pizetti pushes himself up to one knee but looks wobbly. Quick is dripping blood from his face but makes it to his feet. He lunges and strikes like a kicker after a field goal, his foot hits Pizetti’s gut with a dull thud. Quick winds up for another shot but The Meatball turns aside at the last moment, lashing out with a left hook to the body that nearly snaps The Stick in half.” “Holy shit, I think Quick’s liver just got made into paté. Spread him on a cracker, he looks done.” “Oh what a mess, his face ruined, fallen to his knees gasping, the wind knocked out of him. Now Pizetti approaches and reaches out to hold his head almost tenderly. He whispers something in his ear and the pulls him close, burying his face in his meaty pecs. He locks his muscular arms around Quicks head and cranks it. Forget breathing, Quick taps out in an instant so that his skull doesn’t pop like a zit!” “Oh my, over already just as I was getting excited.” “Looks like you’re not the only one! Pizetti pull out his cup yet again as Quick collapses to the canvas, chest heaving. He may be David but I’d call that cock Goliath: wide, rock hard and bursting up right out of his tights well past his navel!” “He gets grief from the ref and from Quick's corner, but the fans seem to love it! He drops the cup onto Quick’s face and then grinds his foot on it, forcing the defeated fighter to breath in his sweaty ball stank. Pizetti does a victory double bicep flex that gives the ring medic pause as he rushes in to check on the flattened loser.” “Pizetti grinds out a most muscular pose and blows Curtis Quick a kiss as security enters the ring to keep the two separate. As the referee raises his arm in victory, he points at Quick and mouths ‘I’ll be seeing you soon’ with a leer and a wink.” “Well Al, I’d sure like to be in the room for that meeting. Maybe even film it! Well, this has been quite the fight. On behalf of my colleague Al Sharp, this has been Fred Williams for the Underground Fighting Championship. Thanks for joining us and see you next time!” *** Fight Night part 2: Don’t Call Him Little The next day, Curtis Quick woke from his doctor-mandated bedrest to a pounding coming from the door of his room. He lived in a run down two story motel that rented rooms monthly for cheap. He dragged his poor battered body to the door shouting. “All right already, I’m coming, hold your horses. Jesus!” The noise was making his headache worse, but that was nothing compared to the shock he got when he opened the door and looked down to see Tony Pizetti outside his room on the balcony. His stomach churned but he put on a brave face, swollen as it was. “What are you doing here, huh, didn’t get enough of humiliatin’ me yesterday?” Tony wore a low cut white tank top that showed off his massive hairy pecs. He held a 15-lb bag of potatoes over each shoulder. “I’m here ‘cuz I’m your new coach, Stick.” Tony took a step back and then hoisted the potato bags, swinging them around like nunchucks. Curtis watched dully, still blinking the sleep from his eyes. With a last swing, Tony threw both bags at his chest and he flew back into the room, knocked flat on his back. “How did you know?” Curtis groaned weakly from the floor. His coach Butch, his older brother, had quit in disgust yesterday after the fight. Tony stood over Curtis’ flattened form, folding his thick arms over his chest.. “Everybody knows, Stick. He talked to the media this morning. I believe his exact words were. ‘I ain’t training a loser who lost to a midget.’ What an asshole.” Curtis got to his knees, still sore, but anger over Butch was riling him up. “He is a fucking asshole! That’s not the word you’re supposed to use. It’s like… little person, right?” “Look at this shit. You see anything little?” Tony flexed a bodybuilder-style double-bicep pose. His lats flared out into meaty buttresses holding up arms that were so thick with huge hard muscle that his biceps, triceps and forearms had to fight for space. “From now on you call me Coach or Sir, got it?” Curtis mouth hung open as he watched Pizetti show off. He remembered the power in those arms and thanked God Pizetti hadn’t broken any of his bones. “Got it, Coach! Damn are you bigger than yesterday?” “Fuck yeah, I hate cutting weight for a fight, after I was done with you, I went out with my buddies for a huge steak dinner and then went to the all night gym and blasted these muscles hard. Speaking of which….” Tony chuckled and reached over to tousle Curtis’ hair. With Stick on his knees they were the same height. “I like you kid. You got potential and I need a project. All I get for fights are gimmicks and last-minute replacements.So I’m switching to coaching. I’ve booked you a light-heavyweight fight 4 months from now.” Curtis shook his head. “It’ll take me that long to recover from that beating you gave me. How could I recover and train AND gain thirty pounds to fight as a lightweight in just 4 months?” “Clean out your ears, bumpkin, I said light-heavyweight, that’s 205 lbs. You’re gonna gain eighty pounds of pure muscle. And you're gonna learn to punch and wrestle like a man, not those girly blows you sent my way. And as to how. You leave that to me. Now get up and take this.” Tony pulled Curtis to his feet and shoved the motel ice bucket in his hands. “Go get ice. Lots of it.” While Curtis went back and forth to the ice machine to fill the bathtub, Tony stomped up and down the balcony stairs to his car, unloading the potato bags, 20 in total, till they filled one corner of the kitchen. When he was done, he checked the ice level in the tub. “Alright that’s enough. Come with me. It’s time for your first training session.” Tony popped the trunk of his classic 1983 Buick Grand National and Curtis flinched. “Is that a body?” Tony scowled. “What, you think I’m a gangster or something? Just ‘cause I’m Italian? That’s racist.” “I don’t think it’s r—” “Take another look, bright boy.” Curtis gingerly pulled at the bloody cloth wrapping. “Jesus, it’s a whole side of beef.” “Lift it out, kid. You’re taking it upstairs.” “What? How? It’s gotta weigh 300 lbs.” “Probably 325. Think of it as CrossFit.” “Shit.” Curtis said. He shucked his shirt and tucked it in the back of his shorts. Compared to the boulders of muscle fighting for space on Pizetti’s short body, Curtis’ thin muscles looked like strings stretched along a giant banjo. He strained hard to lift one side of the bloody mass over the lip of the trunk. The effort left him heaving breaths in and out his bony chest. He looked from the truck to the stairs going up to his second floor balcony and then back in despair. “Damn, son, you look like the carcass left over from last night’s roast chicken.” Tony jibed. Curtis hauled more on the mass of meat until he had two thirds of it over the lip. “I got…” he grunted, “a fast… metabolism… fuuuuuck!” Curtis tried to figure it out. He thought he could manage it if he got the side over both his shoulders. But the trunk was below his waist level and there was no way his skinny legs could rise up from a deep squat with that much weight. He looked over at Tony. “Y-you got a jack or somethin’?” Pizetti rolled his eyes. “Alright, soft boy, I’ll help ya, but it’ll cost ya later.” Pizetti scooted his legs under the bumper of the car. He spread his arms out straight and pressed them flat against the asphalt, then tucked up his thighs to his chest and pressed his feet to the undercarriage. Curtis heard first the groan of shocks and then silence as Tony leg pressed the back end of a loaded Buick. The trunk rose up level to Curtis’ chest and he ducked under the mass of meat to brace his shoulders. “Oof. Almost there, a little higher.” “Get ready, punk,” Tony growled. The trunk lowered down again as Tony’s legs pressed to his chest and then shot up fast and hard. Curtis pulled the weight freely onto his shoulders. He teetered over to one side but solidified his core and managed to keep from tumbling over. “I got it, I got it, Coach! Look, I’m doin’ it.” Curtis slowly turned around carefully keeping the huge load balanced on his shoulders. Tony was still under the car, grunting out leg press reps. Goddamn. Curtis made a mental note to google its curb weight. “That’s great kid, let’s see if you can get up the stairs in the time it takes me to do 3 sets.” Curtis let out a grunt of his own. “You’re on coach!” Curtis adjusted the ponderous weight and then stomped step by step toward the stairs. He got to the bottom and looked up. It looked impossible. He flexed his abs and thought of his older brother, mocking him yesterday for weakness. He raised his right foot and set it on the first stair. He pressed hard, feeling his quads solidify and contract. He stepped up and then planted his left. “Fuck yeah, I can do this!” He repeated the process and got to the third step. His heart was pounding. He heard Pizetti counting out reps: “Fifteen! Where you at, boy?” “Halfway up!” he lied. “You better go faster if you want to beat this chicken carcass.” He heard Pizetti breathing heavily. “Oh I’m gonna enjoy this.” Curtis heard the bouncing of shocks as Pizetti started pumping out his next set twice as fast. Curtis visualized the bloated strength of Pizetti’s tree trunk quads and willed it to transfer to his own slim legs. With the next step he forced his left leg to skip a stair. Then his right leg did the same. He was no longer inching up the staircase like an old lady, but taking it normally, like he didn’t have half a cow on his shoulders. The tension in his limbs was intense but he took a deep breath and stomped up the rest of the stairs, reaching the top just as Pizetti yelled out his final rep. “I did it coach!” He huffed, a huge shit-eating grin on his face.. Pizetti set the Buick down and stood up. His thighs were so swollen with pump they rounded outward like beachballs. “Nice job kid!” He stamped his right foot down and his quads exploded, rending the overstretched lycra of his gym shorts right up to his crotch, with a loud RIIIIPPPP!. “Fuck yeah!” he growled. Reaching into the trunk he pulled out a huge meat cleaver. “Now get that meat on ice. It’s time to grow!”!” Cont.

With the permission of the author, I am reposting a short story he wrote for the old forum that I kept in my collection. The story wastes no time getting to the action. You might want to cover your things with a plastic tarp before you start reading . . . BOOM! by LORUS Alex rushed into the living-room where his boyfriend was watching some Sean Cody porn, his jeans around his ankles and his hand working his considerable rod with gusto. “Dude, check out the guy moving into the old Hanson place across the street,” Alex excitedly commanded Dwayne the constant-jacker. Cute Alex, clad only in white jogging shorts, was already leaking a LOT of precum, what – from just watching a guy from across the street? Now Dwayne’s curiosity was peaked. “Grrrr, no fucker is going to get you in that state and get away with it,” Dwayne resolved, already shooting a sizeable jet of cum into the air. It went up and then arced downward, splashing squarely across Alex’s chest, one he’d built up from swimming and push-ups. “Mmmm,” said Alex, amazed at the fact his boyfriend was constantly horny, constantly jacking-off, and would fuck him whenever he got the chance. Dwayne considered himself the horniest, sexiest super-stud in town. But today that opinion of himself would change forever. Both guys went to the window to watch the spectacle outside. “Holy shit.... he’s huge,” cried Dwayne, his already rock-hard bone getting denser, more ripped with size, adorned with thick veins. His cock was huge, and it throbbed hungrily, steaming with sexual heat. Standing behind his boyfriend but focused squarely on the massive bodybuilder across the street, Dwayne ripped down Alex’s white shorts, and loved how the cock-ring he wore seemed to make his ten-inch cock bulge more hugely. You’d think Alex would have loosened up in his anus, having been fucked so many times by sex-mad Dwayne, but not so. Alex’s hole was always nice and tight. The boys loved it like that, and Dwayne, his shaft dripping with his own precum, lashed into Alex’s wet hole, an organic version of a jackhammer... in and out with tremendous vigour, Dwayne’s fervour unrelenting. “Jeezus, he’s the biggest bodybuilder I’ve ever seen, even bigger than Mike Hugeman the Muscle Whore. He must be over 800 lbs.,” Alex gasped, pushing backward against Dwayne’s vigorous invasion to maximize the force of this stand-up-fuck. “Fuuuck, he’s lifting that piano out of the truck like it was made of feathers,” Dwayne – pounding Alex’s hole repeatedly – exclaimed as his lust got stronger and stronger. “Yeah, and the removal guys are... holy shit... he’s making them strip off their overalls.... nah ...they’re not gonna.... unngh .... that’s great..... harder you bastard.... fuck me to death,” enthused Alex, torn between focusing on the super-huge muscleman across the street – getting the delivery guys so turned on – and being ridden by Dwayne who suddenly discovered that he could focus on both actions, and believed that the arrival of the bodybuilder had intensified his need to fuck and cum. The heat suddenly generated by the voyeurs caused a nearby potted plant to wilt. “Yeah... he’s making them wank their dicks alright.... dayum .... I want him. He MUST get fucked by my massive cock. We could.... unngh.... have an orgy.... Omyfuckin’god.... he’s flexin’ right out of that sexy muscle shirt, lat-spreading like he’s spreadin’ wings to take off,” cried Dwayne, both men now so caught up in one of the best sexual moments of their relationship. Buttons pinged off the bodybuilder’s shredded shirt, flying in all directions with force enough to shatter windows nearby. “Mmmmm, he looks like Jay Cutler, and a bit like Craig Titus, only five times their combined sizes. Wow, look at the size of the bulge in his denim cut-offs. He’s a super-enormous, mega-muscled farm boy,” gasped Alex flexing his buttocks as hard as he could, tightening his hole against Dwayne’s meaty raping. “Awwww man, the delivery guys are hot too, they look like bodybuilders now that they’re naked in the street. Their cocks are big, too. God, they’re strokin’ em hard. Look at the bodybuilder’s lat-spread, awww, his size, soooo big. Man, he must be six feet across at the shoulders... no way... no way.... he’s goin’ for the truck... he’s gonna....aw fuuuuckkk,” Dwayne was lost for words as he pulverized Alex’s ass whilst the massive Adonis across the street began to lift the entire delivery truck in a muscle show of utter power for his cock-stroking naked four-man audience. “His...awwww.....unnngh.... muscles are bulging thicker.... unnnngh...as he takes....the....unnnngh....strain of the truck....awwww....so good, darling.....harder....fucking hurt me harder.....harder grrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!” Dwayne, having just shot a load not three minutes ago, felt his balls filling up with fresh spunk, but he planned on holding onto it for as long as possible. Alex could also keep himself from cumming for ages and ages. They suspected the bodybuilder had more tricks to show them. He stood with tree-trunk legs akimbo and the huge truck’s weight not a problem for him as he hefted it above his blonde-haired head. His grunting was manly, guttural and the delivery guys caught onto the idea of fucking one another whilst watching this hunky hulk doing his thing. He began to pump out rep after rep, lifting a truck that easily weighed several tonnes. “Awwww.....he’s getting huuuger....no way.....awwww fuck...I’m gonna cum,” gasped Alex, trying his best to keep his load in. He spread his legs wider to better anchor himself, his hands high up and pushing against the wall on either side of the window. Dwayne kept on pounding, and he grew mean: “Don’t fucking cum until I tell you, y’fuckin’ sexy bastard,” he growled, wishing his cock could get bigger and bigger inside his boyfriend, so that he could give him the fuck of his life. Across the street the huge bodybuilder got huger and huger.....HUUUUGE by hundreds of pounds in just a few seconds. With every rep of the benched truck, his muscles ballooned many times over, biceps swelling bigger than the chests of his audience, lats rushing outward by a metre per minute on either side of him. He flexed his rock-hard abs, each one swelling larger than the pecs of an Olympian bodybuilder. “He’s fuckin’ beautiful....I wonder...unnnngh.... how big he can get.... aw fuck,” gasped Alex, hoping this moment would last and last and last. The delivery guys suddenly advanced on him as he continued to press the truck over his head, again and again. “Too fuckin’ light for Yuri,” Alex and Dwayne heard the giant bellow. He stamped down hard on the pavement and a spider-web of cracks spread out from the impact, seriously undermining the foundations of the surrounding properties. One of the delivery men was frantically working at the buttons on Yuri’s cut-offs, anxious to get a look at his burgeoning meat therein. The monster cock was a monster indeed, springing forth and the second delivery guy shot a massive load of cum as soon as he saw it. The cum shot out in a controlled jet right into the mouth of the huge bodybuilder. “Mmmmm tasty hot man juice.... moarrrrrrr!!!!!” Yuri slurped the treat, and his muscles grew larger still. He squatted down for a moment, and then, grunting maniacally, shot up suddenly, blasting the truck skyward. It went up and up and up, so high that he put the fucking thing in orbit. But he needed to flex more and more to get bigger and bigger, and he also needed to show off his ever-increasing super strength. “Jump on my fucking arms,” he growled to the cumming delivery men who somehow, in the presence of this giant, seemed capable of shooting inhuman amounts of cum, which Yuri lapped up, slurping intensely. “This is the....unnngh....hottest thing I’ve ever... gasp.... seen,” gasped Dwayne, still able to hold on to his juice. “Awwww need to shoot, Dwayne,” moaned Alex, his hole now red from the fucking it was getting. “Fuckin’ stay put....grrrr. You will shoot when I say you can,” roared Dwayne, and brutally-but-playfully nipped Alex’s earlobe as a reprimand. The biting alone nearly made Alex cum. The growing pressure in his balls was fast becoming unbearable. Across the street the delivery men clambered up the huge bodybuilder, using his enormous, metre-long dick as a step to get higher. He must have been over seven feet tall. The first delivery man was able to stand right up atop Yuri’s massive pec-shelf which jutted out by two whole feet over his abs, casting them into deep shadow. Each delivery man climbed onto one of Yuri’s arms, which he held out straight on either side, in typical crucifix fashion. “Position your sweet assholes on each of my biceps,” Yuri commanded. The smaller men obeyed instantly. “Awww....he’s gonna....unnnngh....fuck them with his.... biceps,” gasped Alex, managing to still hold on to his load. Dwayne kept hammering him, his chin resting on Alex’s shoulder so that he could watch the spectacle outside and across the street. “Fuckin’ mounds must be sixty inches or more right around....unnnngh....bigger....unnnngh... when he flexes them,” said Dwayne his lust ever-increasing beyond all extremity. His thick, massive cock continued to give Alex’s ass a battering. He could go on for hours if he wanted to. Sure enough, Yuri curled up his forearms, fists tightly bunched and sending ever-bulging veins ripping across his arms and body with near-seismic ferocity. The delivery men screamed, their bodies lurching upwards as titanic peaks of mountainous muscle tore into their asses and flexed upwards and outwards to fill every crevice of their cracks. Both men shot tonnes more cum, which again arced nicely into Yuri’s hungry mouth. He gulped and gorged on the thick milk and flexed harder and harder and harder. He alternated between levelling out his arms and bunching up his bicep-peaks, and in what was certain to be a balancing act to rival Cirque du Soleil, hammered those peaks repeatedly into the smaller men’s hungry asses. And as he drank of them, so he grew bigger still, his biceps rushing up to a maddening size altogether. He filled out all over, bicep-pumping the shit out of the delivery men, who screamed in bliss atop his biceps. Then he shot his load. A gush of cum, with fire-hose intensity, shot across the street, smashing right through Alex’s car’s windscreen and out the back window. It splashed up all over the more resilient house window, which didn’t break but instead opened inward, pushing both men back and drenching them in gallon after gallon of milky jizz. Alex shot his load in the process, as did Dwayne. They drank as much of Yuri’s cum as their stomachs could carry. And they also began to grow, piling on a thousand pounds of muscle each in just a few seconds. “Awwww.... this is incredible,” cried Alex, standing up in a room of cum and flexing his new muscles so hard that veins thick as rope flared all over him, his body flashing red from stretch-marks that came and went as his skin healed and adapted to the massive muscles it now covered. Dwayne was the same, but his growth was more centred on his gargantuan dick, the rod now swelled to more than six feet in length, the cock-ring now just metal dust. “Awwww.....we’re gods now. I need to shoot and shoot. But gonna rape that fucking bodybuilder across the street.” Dwayne stomped outside, taking the side off the house as he went. But he didn’t care, for he was beyond materialism, now that he was fuelled only by the lust of having muscles, massive ones, and needing to fuck and fuck and fuck like mad. The delivery men were now gorging on the still-torrential surge of Yuri’s magical cum, they, too, beginning to fill out and grow huge. Muscles bulged on muscles, pecs swelling like inflatable pillows, abs super-striating, biceps melon-balling, dicks thickening and shooting as they grew ever larger. The weight of these giants now began to destroy the street, but most people weren’t home anyway. But being a predominantly gay neighbourhood, those who were home rushed out to get in on the action. Massive muscles came to the street this day... and the fuck fest lasted until well after sundown. By nightfall there were twenty massive musclemen writhing around Yuri – and he the biggest of all – their homes in ruins, deep pools of cum everywhere. Yuri had swelled to fifty feet in height and still he pumped cum without end. He weighed thousands of pounds, every muscle super-striated, each striated segment capable of independent flexing. His pecs were as big as houses now, and when he flexed them they pushed against the air hard enough to create a sonic boom. Alex and Dwayne, both around twenty feet tall and weighing four tonnes each, worshipped their new master and continued to feed him their cum to make his muscles even bigger. The others from the street and the delivery men had passed out from exhaustion and slept around the Alpha-god Yuri who demanded more size, more strength. He just wanted to get bigger and bigger and bigger. He made Alex and Dwayne his chief seeders and fuck-buddies, and Dwayne, now the second sexiest super-stud, fell into line easily. They now lived to fuck and cum and eat each other’s spunk and grow huger and huger and huger. Yuri flexed the most massive lat-spread in all of creation, his heaving man-tits hulking upwards as if to swallow his head. Then he crabbed down into a most-muthafuckin’-massively huge and striated most muscular ever flexed. The shockwave tore up trees and ripped roofs off houses a mile away. “BOOM!” He screamed. The End

Hi all Long time lurker. I thought I'd start a story that's been mulling around in my head for a while now. I'm still not sure where it's ultimately headed - though I'm hoping it won't go where you think it might. I have some ideas for the direction - but nothing concrete. There could be anything - so fair warning - if you're easily offended, or grossed out, or whatever, this may not be the thread for you. I'm planning on keeping each chapter fairly short, but hoping to post updates more often. It's my first ever story - so be kind, or not ... EDIT: I've purposefully not given our main protagonist a name, but will use uppercase HE/HIM/HIS to refer to HIM. I'm gradually editing each entry to fix this after the fact. Apologies if it's hard to follow. ******* CHAPTER ONE It was over. Well, IT wasn’t over, but the race to find a vaccine against the SARS-CoV-2 virus, the virus that caused COVID-19, was done. The company where HE worked had lost the race. There were five or six vaccine candidates approved worldwide, some mRNA based, some more traditional. HIS company had spent billions of dollars, and would never recoup those R&D losses releasing vaccine number six or seven, even if it was more effective. If only it was even slightly effective. The project was shelved and, indeed, the existence of the company itself was now under threat. Word had come down from on high that afternoon; a Thursday. The staff were shocked, but not particularly surprised. Everyone expected the axe to fall at some point — many surprised it took as long as it did. It was always a radical and ambitious plan. A plan that would pay massive dividends if it paid off - not only in immediate sales of vaccine, but in lucrative patents that would forever change vaccine development and progress medical science as we’d known it. As the old saying goes, if it’s too good to be true… A vaccine that reprogrammed the patient’s DNA so that the patient’s own immune system would produce the cells and antibodies necessary to fight the virus would not only prevent COVID-19 disease, it would also prevent transmission of the virus causing the disease, ending the pandemic once and for all. But that was small fry compared to future developments. No more influenza, common cold, herpes, HIV, Hepatitis… any infection known to man — virus, bacteria, fungi — would be cured. And even the big C, cancer. Well, it WAS ambitious. But it was not to be. Though the theory seemed sound, putting the theory into practice proved… challenging. Hundreds of billions of dollars were spent trying to make it work and, though there was some promising early results in vitro, every single tested animal had resulted in horribly disfigured or dead animals. Not exactly ready for initial human trials, let alone approval for final manufacture and sale. The bean counters and lawyers were still crunching the numbers and considering the options, but it seemed that so little progress had been made converting theory into practice that everything relating to the project, from samples to formulas, from notes to equipment, from methods to specialised equipment — everything — was effectively worthless.

After many years, I am back with a new story. It has been written in just a few hours and not proofread. Sorry for the mistakes, if any. English is not my first language, but I decided to write the story directly in this language in order to avoid funny Google translations. Enjoy it! Public toilet The scorching sun was shining above the corn fields that extended their gold as far as the eye could reach. Bill closed the back door of his lorry and dried the sweat from his forehead with his left hand. Big dark patches were clearly visible under the armpit of his khaki shirt. He had to walk the path that led to the isolated white house for delivering their Amazon parcel and that took him out of the lovely air conditioning of his vehicle. The short walk in the summer hot air had been enough for bathing his overweight body in his own perspired water. Droplets were attached also to the sparse black hairs above his lips like dew falling from grass blades. He jumped into the cab and closed the door; fresh air enveloped his body and gave him chills. Bill grabbed the icy Coke that was lying on the passenger seat and drunk from it with dry greed, emptying half of the bottle. He lowered it, breathed deeply and erupted with a resounding belch. That was better! He engaged the gear and started to follow the GPS for leaving this deserted place and going back to the city. The highway was only a few miles ahead; he increased the speed when he entered the asphalted road and got a little bit more relaxed. He did not like these small country towns; when driving in the dust gravel road he was picturing a crazy killer with a scarecrow mask coming out of the corn fields with chainsaw, ready to cut him into pieces. He adjusted himself in the seat. He had drunk too much Coke and now needed badly to pee. Fuck! Or that was just for thinking about those stupid horror movies that scared him so much? He hoped that there was at least a gas station in this lonely countryside. He was not going to stop on the street flanked by the high corn; no way! He kept driving while the pressure in his bladder increased. He was not the kind of guy that got an erection when in need of pissing reducing the risk of peeing himself; he just needed to go. Hopefully, distorted by the hot tar of the street, he saw something resembling a simple building and some kind of canopy over a gas station. He entered the exit and parked his lorry near the small square building. A big sign covered in rust said TOILETS. Bill sighed, happy with his luck. He stepped out of the lorry; he would have left the engine on for keeping the cab fresh, but what if someone came out of nowhere and stole it? They would have fired him. Better keeping the keys in his pocket. He stepped out into the boiling air. That at least helped him in controlling his need of peeing. A huge open door read MEN; and a long cock was drawn under it as if it was an arrow pointing in the direction to follow. Bill entered the toilet. A strong smell of pee and something else hit him in the face. Smell of musk, sweat and other manly odors. He did not like public toilets. Water was slowly running down the urinals, leaving an orange trail on the white porcelain. At least it seemed the water was still running in this deserted gas station. He stepped in front of the wash basins and opened the faucet; a thin wire of water starting to flow: he cupped his hands, collected some of the water and then splashed his face. He let it run down his pudgy hairless face; he could never grow a hair and that had always made him look younger than his 22 years. He passed a hand in his greasy long black hair, placing it behind his ears. He was not an ugly guy; but he was not also very interesting. Girls simply seemed to ignore him for his being simply the invisible boring guy next door. Not very tall; not very fit. Not funny and not sexy either. He turned around; faced again the urinals. He could have used one since he was alone, but he was always inhibited by them. He had tried sometimes to pee in one of them, but he felt embarrassed when another guy showed to the nearby urinal; he simply could not keep peeing. He was afraid that the other guy could have a look at his five incher and make fun of him. At least, Bill thought that this was the reason why Marlene had left him a couple of years back. She was the first one he had dated; they had gone to eat some pizza and then a couple of more romantic dinners. She seemed to like staying with a simple and quiet guy; but when they tried to have sex in the lorry, he noticed a disappointed look on her face when he lowered his pants and showed her his small penis with a few hairs surrounding his pelvis. They made love and he came after a couple of minutes; six or seven droplets of cum were shot into her vagina. He was sure that she had not had an orgasm. She asked to be brought back home and the following day she simply sent him a message saying that she needed some time and had to think again about their relationship. Bill accepted that. He knew the reason and understood her. He turned to his left. Two stalls where placed against the back wall. Even if nobody was there, he preferred peeing in a closed and comfortable box. He opened the first on the right; he feared that the toilet may be dirty in shit, but it seemed there was only some pee on the border and some other crusty white substance. The smell was strong and was making him feel nauseated. Better completing his task and then leave. He opened his fly and took out his flaccid 3 inches cock. While peeing, he saw that the dirty wall was covered in obscene phrases. “Wanna suck a big cock? Call me at 55678898”; a veiny shaft was outlined beside it. “I am a thirsty cum drinker. Give me your milk! 55467241” was shouting a too open inviting mouth. “Is your ass ready to be wrecked by a real monster? Meet me at the Purple Corn bar. You may recognize me by my huge bulge”. While he kept reading, Bill started to feel dizzy; words were flying around in his head. Cocks and mouths; asses and cum. He felt that he had stopped pissing; his five incher was fully hard and a different sensation was grasping his crotch. He felt as if he was still pissing, but it was not coming from his blade; he looked down above his fat belly. From the head of his cock a big droplet of a glossy liquid was coming out. He contracted his pelvis muscle and another spurt pushed the drop ahead; it started to flow down his shaft. He had never produced so much precum; he grinned. He liked that: the feeling of peeing without peeing; the thick gelatinous liquid spurting out of his piss slit. He contracted his pelvis muscle again; he felt the liquid coming from somewhere deep inside of him, flowing with a rumble along his shaft and then erupting. This spurt was bigger than the previous. “You may not waste that sweet honey”. Bill jumped in his sneakers and turned to the left. In the wooden wall of the stall he noticed a big hole that he had not seen when entering. A mouth and part of a nose were showing; someone was in the adjacent stall. “Come on. Give me that honey; I may give you some pleasure in exchange” Bill felt a strange sensation pulling him towards that mouth. He had never been sucked by anybody. Around the hole there were a lot of arrows pointing to the center and other filthy phrases “Place your beast here”, “Cum into the hole and fill it” He felt that he needed to place his cock onto that tongue. Yeah! It was so good feeling a spongy tongue licking his manhood. The hole was a little bit higher than his pelvis, but he grabbed is cock and place the head against the tongue. It started to move and swirl around his shaft. Oh yeah! Fuck; he needed that. Some bitch sucking his cock. He shook his head; where the fuck that thought came from? He had never had another guy suck him. The guy left his cock for a second and spoke again: “Yeah. I know you can give me so much precum. Your balls are bigger than two avocados and your reproductive system is that of a real bull” Bill felt his balls inflating, being pulled downwards by their own weight. Filling with cum that was sloshing around. Another gush of precum sprayed out of his cock: wires like web attached to the guy’s nose, so thick and sticky. Bill mind was reeling. He remember when his balls started to inflate during his adolescence; he felt ashamed of them at first. He always wore baggy pants in order to hide them; but then he had his first orgasm and it was delirious. His body was overcome by pleasure and it lasted for almost 40 seconds. Then he trained himself by masturbating and holding back the orgasm; and it could cum for 45, then 50 and 60 seconds. When he cummed he could fly in another dimension; his mind was only focusing on the pleasure. Any other problem, concern or pain was forgotten. “Fuck. So much cum you can produce. You are a real cum factory. And those huge balls makes you constantly horny; you can cum, shot out all that milk and then be ready to come again in a few minutes. And cum up to ten times in a day” After discovering that his balls could give him so much pleasure, Bill was always dedicating the afternoon at home, after school, to masturbating. Once, instead of cumming into the toilet he did that in a glass. He could not focus on the action while he was blinded by the orgasm, but when he was finished the glass was full, up to the brim. While the months passed, he discovered that he had to masturbated in the morning, when his bedsheets were drenched in precum, and he was face to face with his morning wood. Then again in the morning, in the school toilet. And then again at home, in the afternoon, in the evening, at night. “And those gonads are obviously producing so much testosterone. And so much male hormones; and growth hormones. That is why you grew so big; sturdy bones that can support huge, monstrous muscles. You are your own roids supplier. You do not need to inject yourself because all the roids are coming from your insides and made you the muscle monster that you are”. Bill body started to stretch; his bones elongated, his spine shot up. From 5feet5 he grew to 6feet. His muscles started to inflated; the khaki shirt was torn apart by the mass growing inside of it. His traps engulfed his neck up to his ears. His sneakers exploded; big toes crawled out of them. His trousers started to rip while his hems and calves grew bigger and bigger. His back was becoming wider than his lorry. Mountains over mountains. Valleys of muscles. 250 pounds. Then 305 pounds. From 6feet he shot up to 6feet6. 375 pound of raw mass. Bill remember that after the first month of his discovery of masturbation pleasures, his teenager body started to change. He started to grow, becoming taller and his muscle started to grow without him doing anything. His father said it was a growth spurt; his mother thought it was not normal and took him to a specialist. Doctors said that his levels of testosterone and other hormones were unusually high. That was when they also discovered his huge balls. They said that they may need to give him some medicines in order to reduce the testosterone levels that could damage his young body. 415 pounds. 450 pounds. His pecs were bigger than pillows and resting on a huge roid gut, where all the abdominals were exploding outwards like concrete bricks. His legs were true sequoia trees, covered in pulsing veins like ivy. His biceps were bigger than turkeys and were attached to basketball deltoids. He was a true monster. “You are the epitome of masculinity, with your bear hair and deep voice. Nobody can tell you what to to. You are the alfa master; the dominant man. All those hormones make you always horny and ready to fuck”. When the doctor touched his big balls for injecting him the first dose of the medicine, he felt something new inside of him. He looked down to that young guy probing his testicles and he got an erection. The doctor raised is eyes and he saw a spark in them, he knew what he needed. He grabbed the doctor hair and pushed him down to his cock. The doctor opened his mouth and started to suck. Fuck! That was so much better than masturbating. He kept the doctor head in place and moved his pelvis back and forth. New sensation grasping his cock and when he exploded inside his mouth he felt that he was in charge; that nobody could tell him what to do. That he could embrace all that extra testosterone and be the man he wanted to be. And when the doctor started to cough, cum flowing from his nostrils and out of the corner of his mouth, he greedily smiled. Bill knew he was more than that small scrawny doctor. And that he could be much more. That is why he got out of the therapy. He left is body grow; joined the football team and became the strongest of the guys. They started to call him the bull, because of his huge balls. He was not afraid of hiding them anymore; on the contrary. He was very pride of them; of filling the mouth of all the student that he could guess from their eyes were open to be facefucked by him and wanted to taste his sweet proteins. When he reached 300 pounds he started bodybuilding; he was proudly stepping on the platform and looking around to those small guys, showing his huge biceps and the big bulge that his balls made in his posers. He was only 18, but he was already a monster. The only thing that annoyed him with bodybuilding was that he had to shave all his hairy body. But when he was not competing and was bulking, getting to 330 pounds of mass and muscle, he left his beard grow long and bushy, and the hair on his pecs and gut increase the dark grooves of his muscles. Voices said he was on heavy roids cycles, but he did not care. His balls could produce all the hormones he needed. By the way, who the fuck cared in a world full of roided men? “But a huge muscle monster like you is not complete without a monster cock between his legs. With that baseball bat you may cause some real damages, don’t you? And you are always ready to take any hole you want” When Bill reached 350 pounds of brute steel muscles, his cock was already a myth at school being a 12 inches monster. Many girls and boys had already suffered the pleasure of being impaled on that pole and being filled with his cum. He was famous for the grunts and screams coming from his room when he was fucking someone. On the stages he was not only famous for his huge muscles, but also for his enormous package. Other bodybuilders were always having glances at that monster, just before being fucked in the toilets backstage. He felt himself a true bull; mounting any man he could sense was ready to be fucked by a true bull. And there were plenty of them. When 20, his cock had already reached 14 inches and he was a 400 pounds muscle bear. He left bodybuilding and dedicated himself to cruise bars and finding guys who could pay him for being fucked. Who were looking for a real monster who could destroy their ass; make them his cum bag. Shooting his seed in them once, twice or more times in a row. Bill felt something constricting his cock. He looked down. His 16 inches monster was filling the glory hole and was becoming red for the pressure. His veins were inflating and pumping. That fucking hole was too small for his bull cock! He grabbed the wood wall with his huge hands and like it was a sheet of paper it split it in two pieces, opening in the middle at the hole level. He threw the two pieces to one side into the bathroom and looked down. Kneeled on the toilet tiles there was a scrawny twink that was looking up to that giant tower of muscle and strength. He made a step towards him, making the tiles resonate under the pressure of his foot. His hairy tight was bigger than the guy’s whole torso. He grabbed his enormous member and placed it on top of the guy’s head; so fucking big that his face was completing hidden under it. He gave some tugs to it and hit the guy’s face. The torrent of precum kept flowing out and bathing the guy’s hair. He had fucked so many guys that he knew this one was going to be a good one. He slid his enormous cock along is face leaving a snail slime. “Do you think you can suck it all?” He asked with a rumbling voice that echoed against the toilet walls. The guy nodded with a satisfied smile and open his mouth. Bull pushed the huge head inside; so fucking good. It was not easy finding someone who could get 16 inches of a trunk inside his mouth. He grabbed the guy head and started to push harder; his cock slid inside of the guy’s mouth and then down his throat. Bull could see the mouth distorting and the throat expanding for making room to the giant invader. That was so fucking exciting! He felt his cock throb and spurt more precum lubricating the tunnel. Bull started to contract his huge glutes and face fucking the puny skull he could crush with only to fingers. His power was so much that the air was glowing around him. His grunts were deep and strong. He grabbed the hair of the small guy and increased his speed; his sword was going into the holster and coming out. In and out. When the cock was half out of the mouth the guy could breathe heavily through his nose; this slut knew how to do suck. Fuck! So good. Bull spurt more precum; with a long trust pushed the whole cock inside and started to growl. The eruption was close: he looked down to the head he was holding; the blue eyes looked up at him as if begging to dominate him, to annihilate him. Yeah! He was the alfa here; the real man. And then he shoot! Gobs of cum flew from his avocados down his monster cock and into the guy’s belly that started to inflate for all the cum. Bull was lost in the bliss of the best orgasm he had had in a few days. He kept grunting, moaning like an animal for 1 minute, than 2 minutes. In the years he had learned how to make his orgasms last longer. He did not care if the one he was fucking was out of breath; he must have thought about that before exciting and challenging the Bull. 3 minutes went by; cum kept spurting like a geyser; belly extending more and more. He was such an animal; lost in his thoughts of being big like a gorilla, with the cock of a stallion and the balls of a bull, while is orgasm was subsiding he was getting more horny. His cock instead of becoming flaccid was getting hard again. He slipped it from the throat holster; the last spurt of cum filled the guy mouth and splashed down his chin in heavy rivulets. The fat log came out with a loud plop, shiny with spit, precum and cum. It smashed up against Bull roid belly reaching the point where is inflated hard pecs where resting on his protruding roid belly. Some gushes coated the dense hair on his pecs. He looked down at the small guy who was catching some fresh air and spitting out cups of cum. He had filled him good, at least from one side. His cock gave a sudden jump at the thought; rivers of new milky precum started to flow down the shaft. He felt his bull balls churning again; he contracted his steel pelvis muscles and pumped more blood in his monster cock; big veins jumped up on the angry red surface. He smirked at the thought of the poor silly guy. Without the twink even understanding what was going on, the Bull grabbed his bloated waist with one of his paws, he raised him and with the other hand he stripped off his jeans as if made of corn leaves. He placed the guy over the toilet; his monumental shadow towered over him. Bull grabbed his hard cock; when he got so excited it was also difficult for him to maneuver the rock hard beast. He pushed it down over the guy’s belly. He was so fat that it covered half of the guy torso and so long that reached up to the middle of his flat white pecs. “Imagine this thing inside of you”, rumbled the Bull. The guy was moving his crazy eyes from the piton laying on his belly and the muscle bull towering over him. The Bull saw lust in the guy’s eyes; no fear, no hesitation. Just lust. He wanted his cock inside of him; the Bull knew when a guy needed to be thoroughly and roughly fucked. He pushed back his giant ass and positioned his cockhead against the guy’s asshole. It seemed impossible that such a beast could fit in such a small rosebud. He contracted again his pelvis muscle and a gush of precum sprayed the guy’s ass. “Come on! Fuck me good!” He did not need to be told: he pushed the apple big mushroom with one trust and opened up the guy’s ass. He emitted a surprise and ache gasp. The Bull grabbed his waist with both hands and pushed more of his monster inside of him: 8 inches went in; then 10 and 12. He could see the snake moving under the guys skin. Crawling up inside his stomach. Fuck! Yeah. He was breeding this bitch. 14 inches went in and finally his huge balls slapped against the guys cheeks. All his 16 inches were buried inside of this new cock sleeve. He rested still for some seconds; the guy looked down to his belly full of cum, pushed upwards by the monster nestled inside of him. That thing was like the alien parasite filling his torso. That was so hot. “Yeah. Fuck me hard big Bull” Bull pulled back his cock and pushed it back in with full strength. Then again and again. The guy was just a flashlight for his cock; the friction he needed for stimulating himself. For squeezing his beast inside of a constraining hole. “Fuck. Yeah. So big; such a monster bull. Your balls are bigger than grapefruits” Bull felt his testicles inflating more and slapping harder against the guy ass. “You have got gallons of cum to fill them” Bull felt his cum mounting and sloshing inside his scrotum. “Your testosterone his permanently pumping your muscle and making you bigger” Bull stretched further up to 7feet; bigger feet and huger hands. His muscles grew more; 450 pounds. Then 490. “Fill me with that 20 inches anaconda” Bull felt his monster cock stretching more and expanding. He grunted like a bull in heat; he was trusting with more violence his cock ramming the insides of the guy. “You are a truck driver running around the country; searching for men to fuck. Men who can accommodate your monster cock and want to be filled by it. There are plenty of them and you are open to breed them all. Cum, now!” Bull felt his huge testicles retracting; he grunted a final time and started to orgasm. His cum filled the guy from the other side; his belly kept inflating more and more and finally cum started to erupt from his mouth. Gallons of cum. After 5 minutes of orgasm, Bull extracted his log from the guy ass. He was sated, for now. The guy was still vomiting cum from his mouth; teary eyes happy with the fuck he received. Bull took his monster cock covered in juicy, cleaned it with a stroke and licked his hands. Then he placed it inside of his jeans, lava against his tight, burning down to his knee. He filled his bulge with the two enormous globes of testicles and buttoned up. He stepped out of the destroyed toilet; 2 inches of cum where covering the floor. His heavy black work boots were splashing it against the walls while walking. He looked at himself in the basin mirror but could only see his big roid belly covered by a white tank top. Dense fur was covering his enormous pecs. He cupped some water in his hands and washed his heavy beard leaving some of the cum that has splashed everywhere over his pecs. He exited the toilet building, walking sideways through the small door. His frame was too big and could not pass walking frontally. A huge red truck was parked outside contrasting with the yellow corn fields. He imagined himself coming out of those bushes, a muscle monster that could have made any guy pee himself for fear and then impaling them on his beast, seeing the huge head coming out of their mouths and spraying cum all around. Bull looked far to the horizon; heavy gray clouds were crossed by ivy of lights. A storm was coming. The wind refreshed his face and sent to his nostrils the heavy smell of musk, sweat and cum. His cock stirred along his left leg. He had to reach the next station in another 3 hours: another bitch was going to be ready to be fucked by the Bull!

After my mom passed away, I had been raised in foster care. I didn’t remember my father too much because he was a drug addict, young, and didn’t support us at all. When my mother passed, my father decided he was unfit to take care of me and put me in foster care. I was 7 or 8 then. On my 18th birthday, the foster home threw me a huge party. Usually we have to leave the home when we turn 18, but I have built up a great relationship with my foster family, and they allowed me to stay for a couple more weeks until I got situated. When the crowd cleared, they pulled me into the dining room “Hey Bryan, we have a little surprise for you.” Already I was a little apprehensive because I wasn’t expecting a huge gift. They didn’t have much money. “What is it?” “Well, we know we said you could stay here as long as you like, but your father actually contacted us and he would like to take you home with him.” I was already furious. I don’t remember my father much, but I resented him for what he did to me. Having a dead beat dad may have been better than having no father at all. “I don’t want to see him!” I yelled. “He’s changed.” my foster mother said “I’d say” my foster dad smirked. “Jim stop. Bryan, he says he’s sorry and wants to make it up to you. Actually he’s in the living room now waiting for you. He asked us to soften the blow by telling you this beforehand” They could tell I was already upset, but I knew I am asking a lot by staying in the home, so I went down with them to the living room. When I reached the entry way, my jaw dropped. There was my dad, and he was enormous. He was still tall like I remember, but he was nowhere near the skinny drugged out dead beat I recalled. My dad had muscle on top of muscle. Huge boulder shoulder capped a wide frame. Arms that peaked, pushing his shirt sleeve to the max. Thick cords of veins pushing through the fabric. I traced his forearms with my eyes and then back up again to his shelf pecs that bunched together with each exhale. I could see 8 perfectly defined abs THROUGH his shirt tapering to a tiny waist that then exploded outwards as his quads completed the display. “Hey son” he said sheepishly “Hhhhhhey dad” He walked over to me and put his mammoth arms around me in a hug. “I’m so sorry for not being there for you. I wasn’t ready to be a father that you deserved, but that’s all going to change now. I am here for you for whatever you need. He smiled as he saw a tear form in my eyes. We drove to his house where he set up a room for me in the basement. It wasn’t fully done as there were still some old oil drums and tools that were strewn about the place. “I know it isn’t much, but I will fix it up for you in no time.” I couldn’t help myself “Dad, you are so big!” He gave me a smile then walked over to me and got down on one knee. He grabbed my hand then flexed his bicep right in front of me. A huge mountain formed, snaked in thick veins that spiraled all the way up to his manly hands. He then guided my hand over the peak, until I squeezed, unable to make a dent. “No son, I am fucking massive.” My bulge started to grow right there in front of him. I was so embarrassed as my dad looked down and smiled. “Don’t worry. You see son, I know I haven’t been a good father to you, but that’s all going to change. Over the last couple years, I have been watching you without you knowing. I know what you like, what you don’t like. I know you love muscle from the magazines I saw in your room when I broke into the foster house a couple years ago. I have honed myself to be everything you’ve ever dreamed about. I swallowed hard as he continued. “I also know that you are gay son. I know that you have always liked men, especially men with muscle. And I know that you have been bullied for it. You will find someone that accepts you for who you are, but until then, you can feast your eyes on me whenever you want.” He then looked at his bicep and flexed hard bringing the sleeve of the to almost to the breaking point. He then turned his wrist inwards as we heard a loud TEAR exposing the shredded split peak. He then brought his arm to his mouth and started licking and sucking it putting his hand behind his head as he moaned. He then looked me again and smiled. “Bryan, I will be everything you ever wanted in a dad and more. Nothing is off limits…you ask and you shall receive.” ———————————————— I could barely sleep. I couldn’t believe what happened. My dad, who I haven’t seen in years, just shows up to take care of me. AND…he’s a flawless man of my dreams. Fuck, the way he slobbered over that bicep made my dick so hard. It’s 9AM and I can already hear him in the kitchen. I had to run down. He was there in a skin tight t-shirt, cut off shorts already smelling fresh and clean at the table. “Breakfast is served” he said. The table looked like a banquet. I finished eating as I continued to eye fuck my dad. “So tell me about Dylan” he said. “Dylan? How could you know about Dylan?” Dylan was an asshole. Wrestling jock at my school that found me checking out dudes in a muscle magazine and hasn’t let me forget it since. He makes fun of me every chance he gets for being gay. I could see my dad smile as I recalled the horror. At that moment, we heard the doorbell ring. “I hope you don’t mind” my dad said with a little chuckle. My dad went in the other room, and I heard him open the door. “Dylan! Thanks for coming over to help me clean out the basement.” “No problem sir, although it doesn’t look like you need much help.” He said “Nonsense” as they walked down to the basement. I could still hear them talking. “Looks like you got a body on you too. Let me see them abs!” I stepped down a couple steps into the basement to peer through the railing at the scene. Dylan lifted his shirt to my dad. “Haha cute.” My dad said. “Hey Bryan! Get down here.!” I started to walk down and Dylan saw me and gave me a look. “Hey what’s going on here!” He said as he dropped his shirt down. “Oh, I see you two know each other. No bother. Hey Bryan, Dylan here thinks he has some abs. Which do you think are better?” He lifts up the front of Dylan’s shirt to show his abs again. “This pathetic flat six pack? Or this?” He said as he slowly lifted up the front of his shirt exposing deep row after row of sculpted ab bricks. He then exhaled deeply carving out 8 flawless slabs shrinking to an almost nonexistent waist. He pinches his thin skin as he turned to Dylan and said, “Shredded” I then said under my breath, “oh fuck” My dad laughed a little “that’s what I thought. You see Dylan, my boy here says you have been nagging him for being gay. Well, you are going to show him you are a much bigger cock sucker than he is.” He then grabbed Dylan’s shoulder and brought his face right up to his and commanded “Blow me.” “Wwwwhat? Nnnnno” Dylan said shaking. “Dylan, it wasn’t a choice.” My dad then walked up to the oil drum on the ground and wrapped his arms around it, hoisting it up so his back was to us. Then slowly I could see the muscles in his shoulders and back ripple as the shirt began to tear down his lats exposing his thick back. Cords of veins across paper thin skin as we started to hear metal SCREAMING. Then a loud crash as the metal drum fell to the ground, caved in the middle. My dad turned around and pulled his tattered clothes off of him. His body more ripped and defined than any bodybuilder on stage. My dad walked to the couch and sat down telling me to sit next to him. I did as he said as he put his arm around my shoulders and tussled my hair. He looked down and saw my bulge and said “I see you got some of my genes in the size department.” He paused a little and repeated “Some” He reached down to his shorts and tore off the elastic as well as his jock and out flopped the most massive soft dick I have ever seen. Even soft, it was bigger than mine and covered in veins both thick and small. It hung down like a thick pendulum. He looked back at Dylan. “See that oil drum? The same thing is going to happen to your chest unless you blow the FUCK out of this cock” Dylan started shaking as he ran over between my dad’s legs and started to engulf his dick. My dad looked at me as he moaned, biting his lip. He put his hand on the back of Dylans head and said to me “listen to his jaw stretch Bryan” as his dick expanded his jaw. Dylan tried to pull away but my dad’s hand was too strong. “Stream it son.” I reached into Dylan’s pocket and grabbed his phone and opened Facebook to live stream it on his page. My dad worked his cock into Dylan’s mouth usied his head to move him back and forth. My dad played a part in the background saying things like “yeah that’s it” and “you’re so good to daddy” and then it happened… My dad ROARED as he unleashed a torrent of cum down Dylan’s throat . Orgasming for like 30 seconds pump after pump until it started coming out his nose and the sides of his mouth until finally my dad said “Aww you did so much better than last time.” I cut the feed and then my dad pulled out with a wet THWOP…cum still leaking out of his dick like a faucet until a puddle formed. Dylan coughed up cum that got into his lungs, gasping for breath, My dad reached down and picked up Dylan by the collar and lifted him up, feet dangling. “If I ever hear you tease my boy again, this will be like a walk in the park. Now get the FUCK out. Dylan grabbed his things and ran out faster than I have ever seen him move. My dad sat next to me and puts his arm around me. “I don’t think he will be making fun of you anytime soon Bryan.” I reached my arms around my dad and hugged him tightly. I could actually feel him smile

Johnny’s Bully Part 1 During his time at uni, Johnny had got huge. Since taking up the gym at 16 he’d made incredible gains – his arms had grown from 13 inches to pushing 19; his former pigeon chest transformed into meaty pecs that hung over a ripped and blocky six-pack. His capped shoulders were massive, his quads like tree trunks. He liked to work out twice a day when he could. He ate big. He slept eight hours a night. He definitely juiced. He did everything right to get the perfect physique. In his time at uni he’d dedicated himself to getting big. Early mornings, late nights, gym sessions which got longer as his body got bigger. He hardly went out to bars, hardly socialised at all outside the gym. Even his studies weren’t as important to Johnny as growing was. Strength was everything to him. He’d graduated with a decent-enough degree, and landed himself a decent-enough job in London. At first he found it tough to fit the job around his bodybuilding, but he quickly got his routine down. Six months in, and he was the biggest he’d ever been. And he’d escaped his home town! That shithole where hope went to die. Where the losers from school still lived, in dead-end jobs or no jobs at all, nothing to look forward to except getting pissed or getting high. Not Johnny: He knew he was better than that. Better than those people. Better than Adam Fucking Gunner. Adam had gone to Johnny’s school. Whereas Johnny had been skinny and academic, Adam was a natural athlete. Tall and broad, Adam would have excelled at any physical team sport, except he was too selfish. He liked to lift weights. By the age of 16 Adam already had impressive 16 inch arms, some serious pec size and huge quads. He was also the hardest fucker in school. His muscular frame made him intimidating even to the older kids. On one legendary occasion when he was 15, he’d got into a fight with an 18 year old and knocked him out with his first punch. Fractured eye socket. If anyone doubted before that Adam had the muscle and the balls to back up his big-man image, they didn’t after that. Adam was a bully almost incidentally. He was the most respected lad in school, surrounded by his crowd of buddies – his gym mates, the hot girls, the beta boys hoping to look cool by association. Picking fights with lads was just a bit of fun. It was fun for him to make an older and bigger boy back down just by intimidating the fuck out of him, making him feel weak, and pathetic. It was also fun to pick on the smaller guys, taking the piss out of their skinny little arms and pale, spotty bodies. His mates loved it too. To be honest Adam hardly knew even the names of most of the people he’d picked on. They were nothing to him. Weak, skinny little Johnny wasn’t even on Adam’s radar. One off-hand, casually cruel comment was all the attention Adam had ever paid to Johnny. They were in the school locker room after gym, when Adam and his mates were comparing their pump. As hard as he tried to ignore the bro-banter and the noise of the laughter and the grunts and the flexing, Johnny couldn’t stop himself from glancing over as he fumbled with his shirt. There was Adam, flexing a single biceps in the mirror. The lad he was competing with stood no chance. “Yeah, keep tryin’, gaylord,” he grunted, keeping the flex. “Fuck you Adz,” said the smaller lad with an abashed smile, relaxing his own flex and ceding the mirror to the bigger man. Just then Adam saw Johnny looking at him in the mirror. Slowly he smirked, then, continuing the banter with his mate and tightening the flex on his bi so it swelled bigger, said: “Yeah, you gotta go heavier to grow, bro, or you’ll get beat by fuckin’ toothpick arms over there.” He smirked, and nodded to Johnny in the mirror. That was it. From then on Johnny was known to everyone in the school as Toothpick Arms. In class, at break, that was what everyone called him. Even some of the teachers started using the name. And the girls. At school Johnny’s crush was Stacey Wright. She seemed different to the other girls. A bit shy, to Johnny she was the most beautiful girl in the world. One day soon after the locker room incident, he’d screwed up all his courage to ask her out. At breaktime he saw her on her own and, sick with nerves, made his approach. “Uh, hey Stace…” was as far as he got before they were interrupted by Stacey’s girl gang. “STACEY!! Omigod I swear, Gavin just fingered Chantelle in the girls’ loo, I can’t even….” Then seeing Johnny there: “What the fuck does Toothpick want?” “Uh, toothpick?” said Stacey, confused. Her mates squealed and proceeded to tell Stacey all about Johnny’s wimpy arms and the locker room incident. All the while Johnny just stood there, hot with humiliation and rooted to the spot, as the girl gang shrieked with laughter while carrying away Stacey with them. That was the start of Johnny’s muscle fixation. He needed to get big. He needed to show that cunt Adam Gunner who was the real fucking alpha. And now, five years later, Johnny stood in the mirror in his London flat, flexing his massive pecs and feeling their mass shift under his t-shirt (size large, but still too small). He reached down to grab his shirt and began to pull it off over his head – only it got stuck at his lats. After some grunts and a tearing sound as some of the seams gave way, Johnny got the shirt off and inspected his upper body. Those pecs. So much fucking beef. His nipples looked small by comparison: A boy’s nipples on a freaking man’s chest, it was fucking hot. That six pack. Abs that Ryan Terry would be jealous of. All the girls that Johnny fucked went crazy over his abs. Typical, thought Johnny, when it’s his delts they should really be wet for: Like two massive but proportional bowling balls at the top of each arm. Arms which exploded into nearly 19-inch cannons. Who gives a fuck about abs when you’ve got guns like these, thought Johnny, breaking into an epic double bi which revealed the deep hairy canyons that were his pits. Tomorrow morning he was training back. It didn’t matter if he was late for work. After all, priorities. * * * * * Next evening, about 10pm, Johnny got home after his second gym session of the day. He’d only meant to go heavy on back in the morning and maybe some cardio later, but he’d got talking about bodybuilding with his mate Will at work who’d asked if he could train with him. “Wanna hang with the big dogs mate?” asked Johnny with a smirk. After the leg workout he later put him through, he doubted Will would be back for more. He’d left him in the carpark struggling to get his legs to work his car. 10pm. Shit, Johnny needed to get to sleep soon – he needed at least eight hours to maximise his gains, or he got cranky. Enough time to microwave some chicken. While the microwave was on he checked Facebook on his phone. There was a post from Stacey. Johnny didn’t have many Facebook friends – at uni he’d spent all his time at the gym and so hadn’t met many people besides a few gym bros – but a few of his old school mates had added him. And Stacey. He didn’t know why: Did she think about him ever? Wonder what he was doing? If she hoped to find out she would have been disappointed. Johnny never posted anything. Stacey didn’t post often either, but whenever Johnny saw one of her posts he always felt a stabbing sensation as his mind recalled that past humiliation. But this post. Jesus Fucking Christ. Ad’s gon! The fuckin bastards left us! Not even a fuckin text! Apsalute shitin cunt! She must have been off her face when she wrote that. Johnny didn’t know what any of it meant, so he trawled through the dozens of “U OK hun?” messages and pieced the story together. Stacey had been “seeing” (more like fucking, Johnny guessed) this lad for a couple of weeks before he’d moved in to the house where Stacey lived with her stoner dad. A while later, after missing her period, Stacey had taken a pregnancy test. It was positive. She’d messaged the news to the lad, and hadn’t seen him since. And the lad? Adam Fucking Gunner. As if it wasn’t enough that his bully had been fucking his crush, he had now totally destroyed her. Johnny felt hot, and realised he’d been tensing his muscles so his pits were sweating through his tee. Did he even care? Did people like Adam Gunner ever care about the damage they caused to people’s lives? Did he even know about the damage he’d done? A vein throbbed in Johnny’s neck. Someone had to tell him. And by tell him, Johnny meant beat the crap out of him. And who would do it? Stacey’s stoner dad was a loser, so were her friends. There was only Johnny. He had transformed himself into a real man, a fucking bodybuilder with a physique that made Adam Gunner with his 16-inch arms look like a pissing wuss. Only Johnny, with his bigshot London life and a body that would make Stacey wet. Oh yeah. Wait till Adam saw him. Wait till Stacey saw them together. Who would have the fucking toothpick arms then?! And Johnny growled as he flexed a most muscular, ripping the size large tee under the arms.

From the shimmering red and gold sky that hung above Agrabah, no-one, in their right mind, could have depicted what was happening that evening in the Royal Palace. Jafar, Agrabah's royal vizier, definitely had the upper hand after acquiring the Genie's lamp and using his wishes to turn into a yard-long magical snake. While Jafar was being attacked from all sides by Aladdin and his companions, and Jasmine slowly drowning in the hourglass, something was nagging him... He looked around, but Iago wasn't the one that was bothering him; it was something else entirely, something mysterious... Slowly Jafar snapped back into reality as Aladdin was trying to get his attention. "That annoying little brat," Jafar thought to himself, "honestly should incinerate that puny little waste of life here on the spot..." Then Jafar suddenly froze to the words "not the most powerful being in the universe". Did Aladdin just give him the ultimate inspiration for his final wish, "The genie will always be stronger, you freak!" yelled Aladdin. Eventhough Prince Ali was a massive con artist, he did have a point... There the voice subtly whispered again: "genie... chain... god..." Those three words continued to swarm through his head, the weirdest thing was that it almost sounded as his own voice... As if his future self was trying to tell him something, but what exactly... Jafar was abruptly interrupted by the street rat himself, in the corner of his eye he could see solely Jasmine's lips reaching above the magic sand, "What are you waiting for you spineless pussy? Don't you think you can handle begin like Genie?!" At that very instant the words of his guardian angel made sense, the pieces of the puzzle finally fell into place... Quickly Jafar turned his hypnotising cobra eyes towards Aladdin, who was trying to hurt him with his agile scimitar, Aladdin froze into place due to Jafar's power and gave the slightest wink towards his friends. "GENIE! I AM READY FOR MY FINAL WISH!" Jafar bellowed across the throne room. "Ya'know I'd rather you didn't, mister power hungry megalomaniac, isn't his eno..." Instantly the Genie's mouth zipped closed due to Jafar's power. "Mighty Genie of the lamp, I, Jafar of Agrabah, wish to become..." Aladdin grinned hopefully, " an IMMORTAL, OMNISCIENT, OMNIPOTENT GOD!!!" in the mere nanoseconds that followed Aladdin's face went blank, the hourglass disappeared, freeing princess Jasmine, and the whole throne room was filled with magical creatures in all shapes and sizes. There were a couple of different genies, some unicorns, several fairies and many more. With a blink of an eye the creatures imploded into a little dot, followed by a pulsating red hue that filled the room with anguish. The red pulsating orb made its way to Jafar, as it came closer it started to expand, almost like some sort of nuclear fusion... When the orb almost reached the vizier, Jafar shrunk back to his slender self and was immediately swallowed by the orb and the orb shrunk and disappeared. For a few seconds the sky turned bright blue, you could hear the birds chirp and al the damages Jafar had caused vanished; the squad thought they had won. Aladdin ran towards Jasmine but was launched across the room as the little pulsating hue returned. Subsequently the sky turned an inky black and Jafar's laughter echoed maniacally along the horizon. Out of the hue a fiery and scaly red genie-like figure appeared. The creature wore Jafar's face, but much more perfected in a way: a razor sharp jaw, an immaculate manly chin with a perfect goaty, piercing yellow eyes, almost like those of a demon, pointy ears, pouchy lips and a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. On his, almost bald, head a tightly bound ponytail, held together by several gold rings. Within seconds the squad saw the entity grow: firstly the size of a little muscular dwarf, then a seriously buff human, followed by an 10 feet tall superhuman, then, as the ceiling simply vanished, a whopping 100 feet tall musclebound god. As Jafar started to grow, his muscles expanded with every pleasurable breath he took. Firstly Jafar's pecs exploded out of his chest, within seconds they covered the massive palace in a frightening and foreboding shadow. Underneath a titanium 12-pack slab of divine abs formed that pushed his pecs ups, making them bounce in the most sensual way possible. Above the pecs Jafar's neck muscles started to bulge around his neck, making his facial appearance even more superior. Next his obliques appeared like perfect hills between his pecs and abs. As he grew, his majestic moans echoed through all the far corners of the world. With immense power Jafar raised his arms, creating massive gust of wind that made several houses in Agrabah collapse, and immediately his shoulders and lats became humongous. Jafar hoisted into a double bicep pose and two veiny mountain-sized biceps were conjured up out of nowhere. He clenched his fists, making his triceps and forearms bulge with obscene power. A low growl surrounded the castle as Jafar opened his hands, revealing that his slender fingers had turned into thick muscular fingers topped with shiny black claws that could cut through titanium. While Jafar enjoyed every second of his new power and the whole of Agrabah was frozen in fear, the red hue started to tornado around the gods torso. A layer of thick musky hair appeared on his abs and chest and as Jafar pressed his pecs together, two golden nipple rings were added to his superiority. The musky smell of omnipotence, making the genitals of most of its inhabitants quiver, covered the lands when his pits started to fill with hair. The last adjustment became visible when a snakey tongue slithered out of his mouth. "THE POWER!!! THE ABSOLUTE POWER!!!" bellowed Jafar to the puny little humans beneath him. "You thought you were smart, didn't you you street rat, tricking me into becoming a shackled little genie!" Aladdin stammered... "Why become a genie, when one can become a force nature, AN ACTUAL GOD!!!" Shrieks were heard all across Agrabah as the sky filled with lightening and thunder, making the torso look even more perfect. Jafar, and the hue that still tornadoed around his lower parts, started to rise from the ground. A loud crackling sound overpowered the thunder and the ethereal hue started to split, a massive pair of clawed and hairy feet with golden toe rings arose from the darkness. This was followed by the creation of two hairy legs as thick as humongous oversized tree trunks, both covered in snaky pulsating veins. Jafar looked down, grinned, and spat on his almighty hands; he made his way down to his groin area and started to use the lightning to mold his stallion. The city of Agrabah was in awe of what they witnessed next. A 40 feet long curvy cock hung tightly between his muscular legs, topped with a beautiful and shiny mushroom head; he snapped his finger and a cock ring appeared. The god's legs pushed his shiny, slightly bushy, testicles forward, making yet another shadow cover the area. Two quick booms indicated the creation of a smooth and immensely muscular dumptruck with a shiny, rosy anus shimmering in between the cheeks. Majestically, yet forcefully, Jafar's being rushed down to earth, landing into a powerful superhero pose. The sheer impact of the landing caused a massive earthquake and out of the distant rumbling a threatening black throne, with veins of lava coursing through it, appeared from the depths of the earth. The magic carpet rushed out from underneath Aladdin and turned into a silky see-through cover for Jafar's almighty genitals. At that exact moment Jafar noticed something amusing and, for the street rat himself, extremely humiliating. With his inhuman vision Jafar noticed that Aladdin came at the sight of his superiority. "Good..." he mumbled, a surge of power made Aladdin rush towards Jafar's face, mockingly Jafar made him pass his immaculate pecs slowly, "Deep down I always knew you had a weak for dominance! Not a complete waste of life HAHAHAHA!" He put Aladdin on his nipple ring and together they took place on the throne. A screech from Iago interrupted his victory moment, a quick bicep pose, which almost launched Aladdin into outer space, created a surge of magic that fused Iago and Rajah in a big, muscular, and fiery griffin that took place on one of Jafar's legs. "All hail almighty lord Jafar, you're one and only god!" said Iago repeatedly. "Iago, my companion," said Jafar, "I will grant you the power to sniff out all pure evil doers in this universe and give you the freedom to destroy them however you see fit!" Iago took of and spread fear amongst the people, leaving Jafar with a slight grin on his beautiful face. When Iago was out of sight two things happened that made Jafar very happy: first he saw Jasmine crying because she lost her precious Rajah. "Honestly princess, you really are a spoiled little brat but I'll give you one of the most desirable thing their is..." Jafar's eyes lit up with fire and Jasmine's clothes turned into those of a stripper and she launched up towards his neck, where she was entrapped in an hourglass pendant. "I'll grant you immortality, so you can spend the rest of your existence enjoying the view down below... Isn't that generous my princess?!" The other thing that happened slightly aroused his godliness. He looked down and smiled from ear to ear, Aladdin had started licking his nipples. "Ohhhh daddy, almighty daddy..." moaned Aladdin, Jafar's nipples got hard and Aladdin squirted his cum all over them. Instantly Jafar got a humongous pulsating boner, creating a loud bang when his cock slapped against his abs. Simultaneously Aladdin started to grow, within seconds a fit Arabian giant, about two thirds of Jafar's size, with a juicy bubble butt and a good cock stood naked in front of our new master. A drop of precum fell on Aladdin's feet, which turned into a red hue that put his hair in a man bun and gave him a tight leather jockstrap and shackles. "There you have it, my perfect little sex buddy Aladdin!" A little cry from Jasmine was overpowered by the commanding voice of Jafar telling Aladdin to turn around. The dominance in Jafar's voice arouses Aladdin, giving him an boner. Without hesitation Jafar clawed one hand firmly into Aladdin's shoulder and put several fingers in his mouth, then he pounded Aladdin's beautiful ass, you could literally see his cockhead poke into Aladdin's abs. "RRRRRrrrrHHHHhhhaaaa...RRrrrHhaaa..." echoed through the area with every forceful pound Jafar gave, causing literal avalanches around the globe. Then Jafar finally came like he had never did before, waterfalls of sizzling cum fell down to earth, filling the area with the sweet smell of dominance. The cum gave Aladdin an immediate pump, which made Jafar smear the last of his cum over Aladdin's pulsing abs.

If this type of story is your cup of tea, please consider subscribing to my GrowManGrow Patreon page for more like it: https://www.patreon.com/growmangrow I see you. Yeah, you. I know you’ve been trying to sneak photos of me with your phone. It’s pretty obvious that’s why you’ve been following me around this grocery store. Of course, I noticed! It happens all the time. Little guys like you are always trying to get pics of me wherever I go. It’s not like I blame you. Just look at me. But you don’t gotta be sneaky about it. If you want a photo so you can jack off to it later, I’ll happily pose for you. Did it not occur to you to just ask for one? Why not? You think I spent all the time in the gym for a body like this *not* to get noticed. I love attention, man. I want people to check me out. Why else would I wear such a tight shirt and these short shorts? Admiration makes me super horny. So be a man and tell me you want a fuckin’ photo. There you go. Happy now, or is there anything else you want? My name? It’s Hank. It’s nice to meet you, Dillon. How old are you? Like 20 or 21? Really? I’m 23 as well. Hard to believe since we look so different, right? You must be what…5’6” and maybe 130 pounds? I’m 6’4” and closing in on 260. Yeah, double your weight. That’s why you see all the chicken and eggs in my cart. Protein, man, to keep me growing. I’m hoping to get up to at least 320 and keep my body fat under 10%. It’s gonna mean a lot of time in the gym pumping iron, but it’s worth it. Since you like looking at big men, Dill, what’s your favorite body part to ogle? C’mon, man, spit it out. Stop with all the fuckin’ shame and secrecy and tell me what gets your cock hard. Big arms, huh? Yeah, I like that on a guy, too. There’s just something about a pair of massive biceps and triceps that scream masculinity, right? To have the power to lift huge weights, crush whatever you want, and take on any other guy in a fight. That’s why I work my arms all the time – they’re up to 22 inches right now and just about to blow through the sleeves on this shirt. See that little tear….soon it’s gonna rip all the way down the sleeve. Go ahead, touch ’em. You ain’t gonna hurt ‘em, Dill. Really dig in there. Pretty hard, huh? Oh, you like the veins snaking across my bicep. Yeah, the blood is feeding my muscles with the protein I had for breakfast. They’re probably growing right now as I flex for you. Getting bigger just so you can be extra impressed, Dill. I’m glad you like them. Do you ever dream about having arms like these? Fantasize about having biceps so strong that you can curl 200-pound barbells like they were nothin’? Peaks as big as bowling balls and as hard as concrete? You do, huh? Me, too. That desire was what made me go to the gym every day for the past 7 years and not leave until I owned the biggest pair of pythons. Nothing makes me feel more like a man than these babies. You like my chest, too? Thanks. I used to think it was one of my weaker body parts, but I’ve really been blasting it the past year to bring it up to par with everything else. Now it’s deep and thick and full of power. Go ahead, you can feel it, too. Who cares what the other shoppers think? I told you – no shame, no judgment, Dill. You like what you like, and I gave you permission, so fuck anyone who tries to give you grief. Reach under my shirt and take a big handful of my pecs. Feel how heavy they are. And when I flex, I bet you can’t even budge ‘em, right? I knew you couldn’t. They’ve just grown too big and powerful for your dainty little fingers. I’ve bet I’ve got more muscle in just my chest than you have in your entire body. I use my mighty pecs to bench around 540 pounds for reps – that’s more than 4 times what you weigh, Dill. Can you believe it? You and three of your little friends could be hanging from the bar and it still wouldn’t be enough to challenge my strength. Oooh, I like the little tickling you are doing – it’s making my nipple hard. I bet you would give almost anything to lick it in bed, right? Suckin’ on daddy’s big muscle tits? I’m making your cock tingle? That’s good to hear, Dill. I like that you said it out loud. I bet you have never told anyone that before in the middle of a grocery store, huh? Tell me again, but do it louder so everyone around us will hear. Nice! Fuck that old lady and her scowl – she just doesn’t understand muscle lust. It can make you do crazy things, right? You see a hot guy, get filled with testosterone, pop a huge boner, and who knows what will happen. God, you’re revving my engine, too. I sure like it when a man appreciates all my hard work in the gym. I like it when he wants me to grow bigger and stronger. If you were my boyfriend, Dill, I’d use my big muscles to keep you safe and protected all the time. I’d be a warrior for you. And I’d – ooh, it feels like your little hand is moving down to my abs. Yeah, they are hard and flat. Most men my size put on a gut, but not me. I fuckin’ want the cobblestones and work damn hard to keep’ em. Takes a lot of cardio to keep the flab off, but it’s worth on it when I take off my shirt and everyone leers with jealousy at the rock-hard ridges in my mid-section. Nothing completes the total package like broad shoulders and a huge chest tapering down to a strong razor-cut waist. Oh, you like fingering those ridges in my abs, eh, Dill? Maybe we can head over to the baking aisle and get some whipped cream in there for your tongue to dig out. Would you like that? I kind of figured you would. You little guys can always go crazy with your tongues. I bet you could do wonders with your tongue up my ass, too. Are you an ass-man, Dill? Not as much as you like legs? Ok, well, check out my stems. 35 inches around of pure fuckin’ steel. Big as my waist! Some guys skip leg day but not me. I will keep squatting until I either puke or faint. Gotta have big legs, man, to hold up this massive body. Mine have grown so huge that there’s no space between them – they’re like two concrete posts right up next to one another. Yeah, rub ‘em. Oooh, nice. You’ve got the touch, Dill. My upper thighs are so sensitive...they are getting warmer…hotter…like burning with desire. I can feel the electricity surging from them to every part of my body. Can you see the outline of my cock bulging in my shorts? Hard to miss, ain’t it? I saw you staring at my size 17 feet earlier and knew you were trying to guess if I was well-endowed in the cock area, too. To answer your question, yes, most definitely. Soon the tip of my footlong penis is gonna get so erect it'll stick out through the bottom of my shorts. Yeah, of course you can touch it. It’s as big and hard as the rest of me because I give it a daily workout as well. And it loves plowing into little guys like you. What’s that? You wanna suck me off? Good, I thought you would never ask. Of course, I’ll let you, but you gotta two things. First, promise me you’ll suck down everything that shoots out of there. Every last drop. Don’t want to waste any of daddy’s special sauce, right? I need you to slurp it all up. Who knows, maybe some extra protein might put some muscle on you. Would you like that, little guy? Yeah, who wouldn’t want to be a muscle stud like me, OK, second, you gotta let me return the favor and suck you off as well. I bet you want to cum all over me something awful, right? Ha, I thought so. Well, I want that get my Hoover wrapped around your cock and balls and feast on what you have to offer. Deal? OK, then. Let’s hit the restroom and get it done there. After that, we’ll go back to your place for a real fucking. I don’t care if you got a roommate. He can watch if he wants, or he can join in. We’re going back to your place to fuck, and then you can make me a huge lunch so I can keep growing, OK? I want to be full of protein for my second workout of the day later on. You can come watch me pump iron if you want. And if all the sweaty action is too much for you, we can go into the gym showers and blast each other again. I knew it was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Now let’s go, Dill, before my cock explodes right here in the vegetable aisle.

Era de mañana en el diario "El Clarín", en una de sus oficinas se encontraba Peter Parker, un chico castaño de 27 años de edad, medía 1.85 y pesaba 90 kgs. de músculo, estéticamente bien distribuido, traía puesta esa mañana una camisa blanca que se ajustaba bien a su anatomía atlética, pero sin ser demasiado llamativo, la camisa se ajustaba bien en su pecho y bíceps, también llevaba un pantalón negro de vestir y un calzado del mismo color, bien lustrado, el cuello de su camisa desabotonado solo para permitirle respirar bien y no sofocarse, pues el viaje matutino usando sus poderes para llegar al diario había sido bastante veloz, tomó las mangas de la camisa y las arremangó para dejar descubiertos sus antebrazos mientras tomaba un folder con fotos de Spiderman, se sonrió entre sí. Estos meses habían sido importantes para él, encontró un traje alien que lo había mejorado por completo, le dió más velocidad, agilidad, fuerza, músculos, y sobre todo un crecimiento en su virilidad que él en un principio no podía creer, aún recordaba cuando solo medía 1.75 y pesaba solo 70kgs., era sorprendente lo que unos meses con el traje le habían hecho, de tener un pedazo de solo 16 cms. de virilidad en erección pasó a tener un monstruo de 25 cms. No dejaba de ver sus fotos, apaleando maleantes la noche anterior, era magnífico, pensaba en el puesto que estaba compitiendo en ese momento como fotógrafo de planta, el otro hombre definitivamente no tenía oportunidad, dió un sorbo a su café mientras seguía sentado y vió la puerta de entrada de la oficina. Llegó alguien, justamente el hombre que no tenía oportunidades contra Parker, era nada más y nada menos que su compañero de oficina, Eddie Brock. Eddie era ya un hombre de 37 años de edad, a pesar de ser mayor en edad que Peter, se veía más joven, era rubio, de cabello corto, facciones joviales, ojos azules y totalmente lampiño, la vida no le había favorecido, nunca tuvo oportunidad de ejercitarse, ni hacer dietas u otro tipo de cosas debido a su físico, medía tan solo 1,65 cms de alto y pesaba tan solo 60kgs., definitivamente no imponía de ninguna forma, todo mundo le pasaba por encima y últimamente alguien en especial. El pobre Eddie llegó agitado y sudando a la oficina, con su maletín color café a un lado. Eddie estaba vestido con una camisa de color azul cielo que resaltaba aquellos ojos suyos, un pantalón café y calzado del mismo color, todo se hubiera visto bien de no ser por que todo le quedaba grande, a excepción del calzado, la camisa le colgaba de los laterales, y ni que decir de los hombros y las mangas, daba la impresión de que un niño se había vestido con la ropa de su padre, debido a ello nunca tuvo oportunidad de ligar con alguien en su vida. Mientras aún respiraba de manera agitada veía a Parker bastante fresco y seguro de su persona. Eddie se cuestionaba cómo era posible que Parker estaba así si vivía más lejos que él del trabajo, a pesar de tener cierto recelo al castaño, lo saludó ... - Hola, buenos días Parker - Se oyó su voz algo aguda, parecía la voz de un joven de 15 años. - ¿Cómo le haces para llegar antes que yo, si yo vivo más cerca? Peter lo miró de reojo y sonriendo mientras tomaba su café, le dijo: - Por que me levanto más temprano que tú, "amiguito". Eddie miró a Parker, notó que el castaño había mejorado mucho su físico en los últimos meses, sabía que eso no era normal en una persona, además Eddie siempre peleaba por entrar en el bus de la primera hora, mínimo debería que ver a Parker en el transporte o llegar al mismo tiempo si es que Peter tomaba el bus de otra ruta. Eddie terminó por mejor dejar de pensar en ello y se metió al baño para refrescarse un poco, aún así no podía dejar de sentirse frustrado, al salir vio al Sr. Jameson hablando con Peter y solo dijo él: - Hola Sr ... Jameson y Parker vieron al rubio de reojo y siguieron en su plática ... si, literalmente lo habían ignorado. Parker le mostró al jefe sus fotos de Spiderman, Jameson quedó satisfecho como siempre con aquellas fotografías, las tomó y se fue sin decir nada, Peter vio al rubio de nuevo ... -Vaya, de nuevo se te fue el avión del éxito " amiguito ". - El castaño volvió a tomar su café y a darle un sorbo mientras se recargaba en el rubio y lo veía como poca cosa - No te preocupes Eddie, siempre debe haber un segundón para que el primer lugar brille más y descuida, cuando me den el puesto , serás mi "asistonto", te lo aseguro. El rubio apretó su puño y saco su hombro del contacto de Parker para después tomar su maletín y probar suerte en la ciudad por unas fotografías. Peter solo lo vió: -Bye "pequeñín". Oye cuando vuelvas de pasear tráeme un café ... - El castaño sonrió mientras veía salir al rubio -Pobre Eddie, casi me da pena el pobre, pero bueno, no puede competir con un súper hombre como yo ... Parker se quedó de ocioso en la oficina mientras esperaba que fuera más tarde para la hora de la comida, total, al final sabía que en la noche tomaría sus fotos, mientras tanto cuando Eddie salía ... - Maldito parker, su actitud ha cambiado , es un pedante ahora- murmuraba el rubio mientras iba a su lugar secreto dentro del diario, era un cubículo abandonado y muy reducido, solo tenía espacio para una silla y unas cuantas cosas, Eddie entró y activó su radio clandestino de la policía mientras seguía pensando en Parker - solo por que ha cambiado su físico y tiene suerte con las fotos me trata así. Ya se había hecho tarde y Parker tenía hambre ya: - ¡Maldición Brock !, ¡¿Dónde te metiste?!, Sabes que quiero mi comida a cierta hora, maldito enano. - Peter salió de la oficina bastante enojado y se dirigió a la calle para comprar algo y así calmar su apetito, ya pudiendo comprar algo se tranquilizó un poco, pero seguía molesto debido a que aún consumiendo lo que había comprado, su hambre no desaparecía. - Comí demasiado y aún tengo hambre, no lo entiendo, ¡¿Por qué me está pasando esto ?! - El castaño empezaba a enfadarse más, pero en ese momento comenzó a activarse su sentido arácnido. - Sí, lo que me faltaba- se fue a un callejón oscuro y metió su ropa de civil en una bolsa de telaraña -Vamos a perseguir a los chicos malos y a tomar fotos. Mientras tanto Brock salía a toda prisa, escuchó sobre un asalto a un banco cercano y salió disparado del diario, directo a la acción. Al salir vió al mismo tiempo a Spiderman ir hacia la escena del crimen, no era lejos, Brock corrió lo más deprisa que podía, pero llegó demasiado tarde, al estar ya en el lugar solo vio cómo Spiderman salía de escena y varios criminales envueltos en telaraña, pegados a los postes de luz, el rubio se sintió fatal, otra escena de acción se le había escapado. - Maldición, así no lograré nada. Tomó fotos de lo que podía y regresó al diario lo más pronto que pudo, tenía en mente lograr ofrecer sus fotos antes de que Parker apareciera, aunque era muy raro, Peter nunca estaba en la escena y aún así conseguía fotos. Al llegar a la oficina se sorprendió, Parker ya estaba ahí, entregándole varias fotos a Jameson. Brock veía como su oportunidad se desvanecía mientras el jefe entraba a su oficina con Peter detrás de él, el pequeño rubio solo se sentó en su escritorio bastante agitado de tanto correr y entonces ... -¡¡¡Brock !!! Parker gritó como si fuera el jefe al entrar en su oficina compartida, mientras que el rubio solo lo veía con enfado y Parker cerraba de un portazo el lugar y Eddie lo cuestionó. -No sé cómo le haces ... Tú estabas aquí en la oficina y vuelves con fotos y no estás cansado ... - Peter se acercaba poco a poco a Brock que aún seguía agitado, pero confrontándolo, el rubio no sabía si eso era una buena idea o no, pero ya lo estaba haciendo. -¡¿Qué quieres Parker ?! -¡¿Qué quiero?! - Parker sonrió con algo de burla, y así tomó del cuello de la camisa con ambas manos a Brock, levantándolo del suelo, mientras el rubio veía como los pectorales, bíceps y antebrazos del castaño se tensaban en la camisa. - Esas no son maneras de contestarle a tu futuro jefe .- Parker acercó su cara a la del rubio - ¡¿Porqué olvidaste mi comida, maldito enano ?! -¿Cu ... cuál comida ?, No me pe ... pe ... pediste na..nada, solo un café... si regresaba, pero ... - ¡Cállate !, Deja de balbucear como estúpido , sabes que si te pido algo tienes que traer eso y más, en todo caso no me trajiste ¡Nada !, Eso no es de buenos amigos. ¿Oh si? Pequeño charal sudoroso. Las venas del antebrazo de Parker estaban dilatadas debido al tiempo de mantener suspendido al rubio. - Tú ... Tú no eras así .... ¿Que te pasó? - Dijo el rubio algo asustado y triste mientras el semblante de Parker cambiaba de ser agresivo a estar algo fuera de sí, soltando a Brock y dejándolo caer al suelo. - Yo ... Yo ..., Vete por comida y no tardes - El castaño le lanzó billetes en la cara a Brock - Hazlo ya ... Después de eso el rubio se arrastró por el suelo, tomó el dinero y salió disparado de la oficina, pero aún le temblaban algo las piernas. - Maldito Parker. ¿Qué se creé el idiota? No, mejor no lo hago enojar más, no se qué más me podría hacer - El rubio vuelve con una ensalada y pechuga de pollo asada, no había tardado nada en verdad. - Ahí tienes Parker, que te aproveche.- Eddie no pudo evitar decirlo con un tono algo desafiante. - Ya era hora - Mientras tanto Peter no prestó atención al tono de Brock, estaba tan hambriento que solo le importaba la comida, el rubio de lejos veía cómo Peter comía, parecía ansioso y desesperado, como un animal salvaje, incluso soltaba unos cuantos gruñidos , así que prefirió salir e ir al baño, mientras tanto solo pensaba en la conducta de Parker durante los últimos meses, se dirigió al baño del piso, abrió la puerta y se dirigió a uno de los mingitorios. Desenfundó su pedazo de carne, solo medía 8 cms., Y eso si fuera erecto, en reposo solo eran 5 cms, así es, el rubio era pequeño hasta en eso. Mientras orinaba y sentía pena por si mismo oyó abrirse la puerta del baño, para su desgracia era nada más y nada menos que Peter que lo observaba, el castaño comenzó a olfatear, cómo si oliera algo en el ambiente y mientras hacía eso su pantalón de vestir marcaba la gran erección de Parker, el pedazo caliente de 25 cms. de su entrepierna, estaba al máximo. - Aaaaahhhh- el castaño parecía apreciar algún olor. - Aquí huele ... - Dijo el castaño acercándose a Brock. -¿Qué quieres decir con eso? - Eddie guardó su falo y subió la bragueta de su pantalón, tenía un presentimiento y pensaba mejor salir lo antes posible de aquel lugar. - Seguro es el baño, está mal lavado, saldré y le diré al personal del aseo. Parker se acercó al rubio y lo tomó con bastante fuerza. - ¡Eres tú! ... ¡Tú apestas! - Parker volvió a cargar al rubio como lo había hecho ya hace rato y empezó a frotar su gran erección en la entrepierna de Eddie mientras al mismo tiempo le oprimía su pequeña hombría. -Quieres ser preñado.- El rubio estaba acorralado y se sintió indefenso, no podía ocultar su rostro de preocupación. -Parker, si ... si ... huelo así es por qué corrí mu ... mucho hoy ... Me pondré des ... desodorante para no mo ... molestarte ... - Tú quieres ser preñado- Parker parecía un animal salvaje que no razonaba. - ¡¿Preñarme?!, ¡¿A qué te refieres ?! Parker soltó a Brock pero solo para tomarlo fuertemente por la cintura. -Sabes que necesitas un macho, pequeña perra.- El castaño empezaba a merodear con su mano de forma lasciva el cuerpo del rubio aún por encima de la ropa de éste, la mano de Peter empezaba a deslizarse hacia la pelvis de Eddie, casi por tocar su hombría, pero en ese momento Parker se detuvo . - No ... No ... Esto no está bien ... No ... - Peter soltó al rubio de inmediato y salió rápidamente del baño. Eddie sudaba frío, solo en el baño, pegado a la pared aún, traumatizado, se sintió débil y frágil, sus piernas no dejaban de temblar, era la primera vez que alguien intentaba violarlo, solo pudo encogerse y quedarse en estado fetal en el piso de aquel baño.

First time I've ever posted a story of my own. No real growth in this part, but hope you all like it! "Are you sure it's fine? It'll be a couple weeks, I promise....right. Thanks Brian." I tapped the red button on my phone sighing in relief. Calling to ask for favors wasn't really my thing, but I had no choice. I needed a place to stay for two weeks while my house was being repaired from the recent storm. I collected my essentials and brought them over to Brian's. He was a good friend of mine, but since Covid hit I haven't seen him in over a year. Driving to his place, I observed the neighborhood. It was a standard suburban area, seemed quiet too. I pulled up to his house, it was decently big. "I guess he wasn't kidding when he said there was room to spare." I rang the bell waiting patiently. The door swung open and the first thing I saw was Brian, at least not the same Brian I remembered. "Woah...Hi Brian." Was all I could muster as I took him in. He was broader and leaner. He used to be a lot fatter but he dropped a good chunk of it. Not to mention it was replaced by some sizeable muscle. "Hey Chris, come inside. I don't want the A/C getting out." I stepped in holding my belongings. Looking around seeing Brian's place. "Let me hold that, follow me." He said grabbing the box out of my hand. We walked to the stairway. I got a view of his back. It was naturally wide from his size but I can tell it was bigger. Walking up the stairs I could see his calves were built too with some nice definition. My focus on his back and legs was interrupted when we stopped and Brian showed me the room. "This is your room, sorry for the stuff everywhere. I've been kind of using it as a temporary storage." Brian lowered the box on the floor. I saw his tricep flexing with a horseshoe shape. "Its fine, this is more than enough. Thanks man." I looked around and saw he had boxes of protein powder, pre-workout and some other stuff I wasn't sure of. "I gotta say you're really taking this workout thing seriously. Plus you lost weight." I said looking Brian up and down. "'This workout thing' has changed my life. Also I haven't really lost weight, I pretty much gained more if you know what I mean." Brian flexed his arm with a chuckle. I watched his arm ball up. "Yeah, I can see that..." "Speaking of which I need to get to the gym soon." Brian walked over to one of his protein powder boxes and picked it up. "Feel free to use the kitchen and anything else, make yourself feel at home." Brian said on his way out. "Thanks Brian, I will." I unpacked my things and during that I heard Brian leave heading to the gym. After unpacking I decided to head downstairs. I went through Brian's fridge and there were a couple packs of chicken and steak. His fridge was full of protein and some veggies. I decided I'd make some dinner for us both. I looked through the pantry and thought to make chicken parmesan. After preping everything and cooking it. I started washing up. I heard the front door open and heard Brian "Im home, smells good..." he walked over and hovered over the pan. "Is it ready?" He asked intently. "Yeah, was just waiting for you to get home." I got up plating a portion of pasta and chicken for both if us. Brian sat at the table, fork and knife in hand as I put the food down. He dug in, eating fast. I watched him chow down while I took a few bites. He must have trained shoulders because they looked more rounded. Before I was halfway through Brian cleaned his plate. "Want some more?" I asked. "Yes please." "Here you go." I placed the plate in front of him. The same thing happened. It's like the first meal never happened by how fast Brian ate. I just about finished mine until I asked. "Uhhh... want more?" Brian nodded. "Chicken only.... 2 pieces." I knew Brian had a big appetite but he was never this ravenous. After Brian had his fill, he chugged his water. I could see his arm flex as he did. "Ahhh! That was really good Chris. Haven't had a good home meal like that in a long time." Brian pat his belly in admiration. "Well I'm glad you liked it, it's the least I can do to say thanks." I smiled Brian smiled back and yawned right after. "Think I'm going to shower and head to bed early. Have work in the morning." "Alright, I'll clean up here and head to bed too." Clean up was quick. I got into bed and felt pretty tired. I heard the shower stop and soon after Brian knocked on my door and walked in. "You awake? I just need to grab something sorry." He whispered. Walking over to the pile of boxes, grabbing one with no name. It was strange but I saw it had a logo on it. It was too dark to tell what it was. In the doorway I got a decent glimpse of Brian in the light. He was shirtless, his chest bare with some hair covering it. Wearing only underwear and I could see his quads hugging the fabric, among other things. "Goodnight Chris." "Goodnight." I whispered back. I couldn't believe this was the same Brian. I never thought he would have turned into such a muscle bear in just over a year. Before I knew it my dick was getting hard. Falling asleep wondering what tomorrow will bring.

My two weeks business trip to Australia ended two days earlier, so I decided to surprise my wife. I planned to leave my luggage at home and then go for groceries to make a nice dinner for Janet. I entered the house and shoved my suitcase to the corner. Slowly I closed the door and went to the kitchen. “I didn’t know you were coming home earlier today”, a deep manly voice came from the living room making me wince. I turned around to see a man coming from the living room. He stopped and leaned on the wall. “Who the hell are you?” I asked with my voice cracking. The man was huge and he was wearing only a pair of gray gym shorts. “Oh, you must be Janet’s husband. Weren’t you supposed to be on the trip in Australia?”, he stared at me with a smile on his face. I glanced over his body. The guy must’ve been around 6’5” cause I barely reached over his shoulders with my pretty average height of 5’8”. And he was twice as wide as I was. He had huge veiny arms, boulder shoulders, a meaty chest and defined six-pack. I felt the familiar sense of intimidation that always haunted me when I compared myself to bigger men. Thick stubble was covering the guy’s face — I’d never been able to grow some facial hair. I straightened my back and tried to regain my composure. “Y...yes, I’m Tim. And who are you? And w… why are you in my house?” “I’m Matt. And I’m kinda like sleeping with you wife, while you’re away”, stepped to me and put out his big hand to shake with me. I automatically stepped back and bumped into a wall. “Are… are you joking? You tell me, my wife has been cheating on me, and then you want to shake hands with me?” I was trying to sound confident but my voice was betraying me. “And you still have the arrogance to… to stay in my house?” I was almost screaming in a high-pitched voice. “Get… get out of my house!” I had barely finished my sentence, when Matt my neck and pressed me against the wall. His hand was so big that it easily encircled my small neck. “I won’t let some runt to talk to me in such a manner”. I grabbed his huge forearm with my hands and tried to push it away but he was too strong for me. I felt how his hand squeezed around my neck and my feet started dangling in the air. He easily lifted me up with his single hand and now my eyes were on the same level as his. “Do you have any problems with me fucking you wife?”, he said that with his face just a few inches away from mine. I wasn’t able to say anything and was just looking at Matt with fear in my eyes. I was at his complete mercy. “That’s your fault, Timmy. You’re too pathetic to satisfy her. I don’t even understand why she would marry such a wimp as you?” He released me and I fell to the floor. “Stand up!” he commanded and I followed his order. Matt ripped my shirt apart and threw it away. He collared me around the neck with his huge hand and led me over to the big mirror. I look at the reflection. I looked like a boy next to Matt’s powerful, muscular physique. I stared in the mirror at Matt’s bulging pectorals, his thick veiny biceps, massive veiny forearms and washboard abs. I felt completely intimidated by his presence. “You see, why Janet needs me. You’re not a man enough to satisfy her. You’re so small and weak, Timmy”. What Matt said gave me a shiver of fear and jealousy… And I knew he was referring to more than my physique. Then he turned to me and laid his hand on my tiny shoulder. “Timmy, let us have a man-to-man talk… or better to say man-to-boy talk”, he smirked. “Girls want a confident and dominant Man who can protect them, not a puny submissive boy. Look at me”, he raised his left arm and flexed it slowly, bringing his huge bicep into a massive head. I stared at his arm with awe and fear. “Go ahead, boy, feel it!”, he commanded with a voice that didn’t allow for any argument. I put both of my small hands on Matt’s huge bicep and felt its hardness. “It’s awesome”, I said instinctively and continued running my hands over Matt’s arm. It was so big I wasn’t even able to enclose my hands together. “You like that, huh?” Matt said proudly. “Maybe women aren’t your bag…” I didn’t answer anything. But I thought about that. I had always been very insecure about myself. And whenever I was on the beach or at the pool I really enjoyed examining the bigger guys’ bodies. I had always thought I was just jealous about them and just wanted to have the same body. But maybe Matt was right? Maybe I was really attracted to them? No, that’s so stupid — I like girls. At that moment I realized my fingers were still stroking over Matt’s muscular arm. Without a word Matt wrapped his big arm around my slim waist and lifted me up. He then carried me to the bathroom. There he placed me on the feet in front of him, grabbed my head from behind and pushed it into his hairy armpit. “Lick it, boy!” At that moment I realized a feeling of vulnerability and helplessness and I wanted to please that man. Matt pulled my head from his pit and looked me directly into the eyes. He leaned to me, bringing his lips closer to my mouth. I tried to push him away but he just turned and pressed me against the wall. I was completely in his power. Matt’s big lips covered my small mouth as he kissed me roughly while I was still struggling to get free. The roughness of his stubbly face hurt my smooth-shaven face but that also brought me the sense of Matt’s overpowering masculinity and my vulnerability.At that moment I realized I didn’t have to struggle to play masculine role… like I did it with Janet. I could just relax and let Matt be the man. Finally, Matt straightened up, still holding the back of my head. He then pressed my face in between his huge pecs. I kissed and licked his strong chest, when Matt flexed it and started rubbing my face against it. I couldn’t believe how strong his pecs were. My hands ran over his huge lats to his back. tried to squeeze his muscles but they all were rock hard. “Very well, boy. You’re doing just fine. And it seems so natural for you to worship a big muscular man”, Matt laughed and let me go. “Now, strip!” “What? No!” I stepped back while my mind got clearer for a moment. “Sorry, but that’s…”, I didn’t finish the sentence when I saw how Matt clenched his fist and rubbed it against my bare smooth stomach. The threat of the size and power of Matt’s fist terrified me… “Strip! NOW!”, he said angrily. “And don’t make me repeat it again, Timmy”. I quickly kicked off my loafers, unbuckled the belt and pulled my pants down. Just now I realised that all that time my cock was already fully erect at it’s 5.5 inches and my brief had a few stains of precum. “That’s better, boy”, he looked down on my briefs. “You seem to be excited”. I tried to cover my bulge with my hands. He leaned over me and patted me on the cheek. “Now, let’s have a look what you have there”, he reached down to my briefs and ripped them off me. Now, I was standing entirely nude in front of that muscle god. I felt a wild surge of erotic fear and pleasure as I glanced in the mirror and saw us standing next to each other. “Oh, shit, you’re so big”, I gasped with admiration. “That’s right! You should admire my masculinity. Look, your thighs are smaller than my biceps“, he leaned down and flexed his huge arm next to my thighs. Then he pulled his own shorts down. “That’s how many legs should look like! Touch them!” I obeyed his order. My fingers stroked over his veiny thighs. While still caressing his legs with my one hand, I reached down to my dicklet with the other one. At that moment Matt shoved me back making me fall on the floor and leaned on the glass shower divider. “You’re not gonna touch your small dicklet unless I tell you so, understand?” I nodded “Yes, sorry” and lowered my eyes looking at his feet. “Good boy. But you call me sir, now” “Yes, Sir”, I answered while still sitting on the floor. “Now, on your knees, faggot!” I stood on my knees and my face was just a few inches away from his crotch. “Pull them down!” I reached for his briefs and slowly pulled them down. I exposed his 7-inch-long semi-hard cock dangling between his massive thighs. Matt grabbed his cock and slapped it over my face a few times making him grow to 9 inches. Then pressed it against my mouth, “Open your mouth, fag!”. I opened and felt how his huge cock stretched my lips. Matt thrusted it deep down my throat making my choke. He began moving his ass and hips swinging his cock from side to side, tossing me like a doll. I could feel the veins on his huge manhood throbbing inside my mouth. It grew even bigger and must’ve been around 10.5 inches now and in girth as big as mine wrist. I enjoyed that feeling of humiliation. Suddenly, Matt pulled his cock out of my mouth and burst aiming on my face. After 10 hard shots my face was completely covered in his warm cum that was dropping down on my chest. Matt laughed looking at me. “Now, who is my little bitch, Timmy?” “I am, Sir. I am you little bitch and you’re my Master. And I love it to be owned and used by you, Sir” “Good boy. Now, I’m gonna have a quick shower and you go prepare a nice dinner, Janet’s gonna be home soon”, he turned around and stepped into the shower. “Oh, and as soon as you’re ready with dinner, move your staff from the master bedroom to the guest room”. “Yes, Sir”, I stood up and left the bathroom leaving my master alone.

It had been weeks since Ryan turned himself into a Titan in that gym. After destroying half the place and sexually dominating (and destroying) a dozen guys, he fled. Alex was jailed for his giving out experimental roids in his dads gym. Alex was getting used to his three weeks in jail. But he would never be the same. He had got so many jocks on gear and used that to make money and get himself off a million times - but Ryan became bigger, more extreme, veiny than any of them. Alex could only get hard now when he thought of that fomally skinny and weak teen who he had forced to take on the roid gut full of cum. Alex sat back on his bunk, crubbing up, wondering where Ryan was now. He didn’t need to wait for long. Ryan was in extreme withdrawal. He rampaged for a week, lifting cars and fucking guys, drunk with his power. But soon the roids started to lose their power. He was shrinking back down. He was still jacked and very powerful, but no longer a monster. He couldn’t stand it. He missed the thrill of making people be sick at the sight of him. He missed the extreme boner that only comes from lifting a hard. And he missed being able to for himself to the point of being beyond human. He knew what he needed. He fucked jock after jock since shrinking down (raping a few) and he was always a little more swollen after. A bit more ripped. He could feel all those roids still in his gut, feeding him power. The sexual demonstration he used his muscle for was still activating them. He needed Alex. Alex was the boy to force him to become a monster. It was Alex he still thought about. Alex had become his obsession. If he could see him again, he knew his body would force itself to hulk out. So Ryan knew what to do. He needed to get sent to the same jail was Alex. So, one day, he walked slowly into a police station. He looked at the sexy twink behind the counter - a 20 something in a uniform. Skinny with blue eyes, black hair and a “fuck me” face. Ryan almost felt sorry for him. Ryan jumped over the counter and screamed as he flexed as hard as he could. “UUUUERRRRRRR”. His jumped was strained as his 200 pound frame strained and bloated. He smiled evilly as he felt his still impressive body become charged with testosterone. The poor officer pulled his nightstick to only have Ryan snatch it away and force him to the ground. Ryan then ripped off his shorts and held the stick next to his now 8”cock (thinking of how much bigger he will be soon”. “So, stud. What do you think is harder. Your stick or my prick?” The officer tried to get up, before Ryan violently fucked his face. Ryan was finally overpowered by 4 guys with tasers, and he smiled to himself as he was sent off to the local jail - to Alex. Alex was in the yard, when he felt a shadow fall over him. And turned and laid eyes on his dream / nightmare. Ryan was big like a Olympic weightlifter. Not a monster anymore, but a buff guy indeed. “Hello, baby” Ryan said in a mock childish voice. “Rrryan. How. Why are yyyou here”. Ryan felt himself becoming hard thinking about how this stuttering twunk was his key to more muscle than ever. “You see, Alex. I need MORE. I was a muscle mutant. Thank to you. I had all the power a man could handle. I can still taste all those chemicals in my cum. But they need, erm, recharging”. Alex was torn - Ryan, his sexual overlord, the only man to ever be superior to him was talking become returning and surpassing his former Titan status. He was horny and terrified. “Sssooo how can I help that?” Ryan cocked an eyebrow and slowly flexed his 200pound frame, making veins start to scrum. “Iiii I mean, I would. Iii can’t think of anything h other than what we did that day. How I thought you were another normal skinny guy I was getting hooked on my stuff. And how you became……” Ryan was too excited how. “A MONSTER!” Ryan yelled as he ripped off everything other than his boxers. Guards moved in. “You see, Alex, before I got arrested, I injected my balls with every drop of steroid I could get. I can feel all your gear still in my gut. But I needed you - your cum forced me to become a beast. So supercharge me now!” Alex looked at the manic look on Ryan’s face. His cute boyish face on his muscle bound frame. This freak really had juiced himself before coming here. Could his cum really force him into a mutation? Ryan must know his body. He knew it could work. Alex didn’t know what to do. Let that guards get Ryan? Or let him become…… something terrible and amazing? But Ryan knew what he needed. And he wouldn’t take no. He launched at Alex. He knew his little flex display was at least enough to have Alex leaking pre. He tore down his pants - and he was right! Ryan licked at his dick like it was a ice cream. Before he was able to deep suck him, guards pulled him off and slapped cuffs on. Alex looked at Ryan who had a massive shit eating grin on his face. “Lads!” He said to the guards. “You may wanna fuck off. Because mmmmmmmm I’m about gggerrrrrrrr to get HUGE!” Alex’s pre was forcing all the roids in Ryan’s gut to surge like a power shower. “Aseewwwwwe yesssssss” Ryan let his head fall back as the veins erupted over his body, feeding him. He looked at one scared guard and kept eye contact he was snapped the cuffs, with 50 pounds of muscle exploding onto him. “Alex! Your monster is back!” Ryan grabbed 2 of the guards who hadn’t ran away. “What do you say guys? Do I need more muscle? More veins? More power? I need everything!” Ryan tossed them into the wall as Alex, rock hard, fell to his knees looking at what a few drops of pre did. Ryan softly stroked the back of Alex neck. “Baby. Make me unstoppable. Think of all these metal doors I’ll break down. All these guards I’ll fuck as they try to shoot me”. Alex looked up, terrified. “You will be too much”. Ryan snapped. “What the fuck is TOO MUCH. THERE IS NEVER TOO MUCH (he collapsed into a most muscular). I need to grow, I don’t care about risks. I WANT TO BE THE BIGGEST FREAK EVER!” Ryan lifted Alex into the air, and powered him up and down like a barbel, letting his cock enter and exit his mouth with each rep. “I need it Alex. The feeling. The drug. Make me dangerously enhanced”. Ryan stuck a finger in Alex twink butt to make him cum. The impact was insane. Ryan was lost for all words as he dropped Alex and shut his eyes to savour the feeling of over 100 pounds of muscle fighting to explode on him. The sound of skin stretching to its limited. Ryan looked down at his dick, which once maxed out at 12 inches, was now a battering ram of 13 and a half. “LETS TEST THIS BEAST BODY”. Ryan yelled in a tone so deep that the guards came in their pants. Ryan stomped to the guard tower, grabbed it with his beefy hands, and started to lift three tons of steep. “GGREERRRRRRRRRRR POWERRRRRR”. The tower went down. Alex could not believe his eyes. He had helped make a real lift hulk. Mega Ryan was delirious with his own power, licking his own veiny bellend to feed off of more testosterone enfused cum. Mega Ryan turn to Alex and slowly walked toward him, occasionally punching a search light post so it bucked. His 12 pack looked like it would stop bullets. He dripped pre has he walked from that horse cock between his legs. And the whole time, and evil look plastered on his face, under all the veins. “I told you. I knew what I needed. I’m now so much more than human. I’m what ever muscle fetish loser wants. I cannot be stopped….. but I can get bigger”

That's one of my first stories and that's only beginning of it. Would like to hear your thoughts about it and maybe some suggestions to improve. English is also not my native language, so if you notice anything that sounds wrong or unnatural, please let me know. * * * I was on a vacation in Greece together with my friends. One night we went out to have a nice dinner outside of the hotel. After a few glasses of wine I had to leave my friends for a moment to go to the restroom. That restaurant was in the old city part, so you had to go out into a small backyard and then inside of another building. On my way back I was checking some notifications on my phone when I noticed some guy standing on my way. He was more than a head taller than me and very well built. He stood in front of me holding a glass with a cocktail in his huge hand. His shirt with palm leaves pattern was unbuttoned revealing his massive chest and short sleeves were tightly stretched over his huge biceps. His forearms must’ve been bigger than my forearms and they were very vascular. Then I raised my eyes and looked at his face. His piercing brown eyes were drilling me with interest. He had nice fleshy lips and dark stubble that perfectly combined with his slightly curly hair. He smirked after looking at me up and down. I never had an interest in guys but there was something in him that charmed me. “Hi, I’m Leander”, he said with a deep voice with some Greek accent. At that moment I felt so insecure standing in front of that guy, so I barely managed to say my name. “Bryan”, I answered with a high and trembling voice. He then stepped closer to me, making me instinctively back up to the wall. “Ehh, what are you doing?”I asked, confused. “I noticed you a few days ago in the hotel. And since then I’ve been wondering why such a nice guy is without a partner here”. I was shocked. Was he flirting with me? “Hmm, I’m sorry. But actually I’m not into guys”, I had never been attracted to a guy and only a few weeks earlier I had broken up with my girlfriend. Actually, it was one of the reasons why I decided to join my friends on this vacation almost at the last moment. I just wanted to have a pause from relationships and recharge myself. “Are you sure?”, his sight glanced down to the bulge down in my shorts and then back to my eyes. I realised my cock got hard and felt how my face was burning with embarrassment. He took the phone from my hands, did some tapping and after we heard a beep from his pocket he gave it back to me. I looked at the screen. He had just added himself to my contacts and sent a message on his phone, probably to save my number later. I looked again at the screen: he put an aubergine emoji after his name and probably his room number. That’s just so childish, or maybe not… “If you change your mind feel free to write or call me whenever you want. Or just drop by my room”, he sipped his cocktail and turned around leaving. “See you!” I stood there for a moment, trying to understand what had just happened. That guy was flirting with me, even though I told him I’m not gay. And why the hell did I get a boner? I went back to my friends. They were already wondering where I was for such a long time. “There was a queue at the toilet”, I answered, although obviously there were not many people at that time. We continued our dinner but I couldn’t forget about that guy. I was laughing with my friends but at the same time I had millions of thoughts in my head. Why hadn’t I done anything? Anybody else would just punch that guy and leave. But I just let that guy establish his dominance. I was standing there unable to do anything. Or maybe deep inside me I liked it? I ordered another drink and tried to focus on the conversation with my friends. As we got back to the hotel it was around 11pm. We went outside to the pool bar, where there was still music playing and many people were enjoying a warm summer evening. We had some drinks and spent another half an hour there. Then we all left for our rooms. As soon as I got back to my room, I took my phone and flopped on the bed. I opened the messages app and the last conversation popped up. I thought for a minute and then quickly typed a message. “Sleeping?”. What am I doing? Is that really what I want or is it just alcohol? “No”, he answered. “Have you changed your mind?”. Had I? I wasn’t sure. I remembered that moment in the restaurant. I was feeling so weak back then. Maybe that’s why Jane broke up with me? I was a weakling and couldn’t stand for me. “I’m not sure…”, I clicked send. “Come in my room.”, he wrote with a point at the end. It wasn’t a question or a request. It was an order. Or was I just thinking too much? Whatever… I stood from the bed, took two bottles of beer from the minibar and left the room. I took the lift to go up to the 6th floor. When the lift doors opened there was a long corridor like, the same as on my floor. But there were much fewer doors here. There must be bigger apartments on this floor. I found room 604 and knocked on the door. It opened and Leander was staying in the doorway wearing only a pair of grey sport shorts. My sight automatically dropped down to his defined six-pack. He raised his hand and leaned on the threshold revealing his hairy armpit. “Good decision to come here, boy”, I could smell the scent of sweat and alcohol coming from him. “May I come in?” I asked, raising my hand and showing him two bottles of beer. “Oh, you brought me some beer. Very nice”, he smirked and tousled my hair. “Come in”, he stepped away letting me inside. Leander had a bigger apartment, as I thought. Living room was combined with a small kitchen area and there also were two doors leading to the bathroom and separate bedroom. I placed bottles on the kitchen counter and looked around for a bottle opener. Leander closed the door and came to me. He laid his hand on my shoulder making me turn around. “So why are you here? I thought you weren’t into guys” “I don’t know…”, I looked up into his eyes. “I just felt like I have to do so. The last few hours I couldn’t stop thinking about that moment. I’ve never felt something similar. I’m pretty sure I like girls but it felt so good at that moment as you pressed me against a wall…” He grabbed my jaws with his huge hand making me stop talking. “I know, boy. It’s okay! I’ve already met guys like you. You’re a beta, a faggot. You get turned up by male dominance and it’s completely normal. It’s just natural”, he squeezed his hand slightly and a few tears dropped down my eyes. He was right. I liked his dominance, I liked how powerless I was next to him and how he controlled me.

Cole locked eyes with Ethan. His beautiful green eyes were alive and excited but all of Tim’s cum in his ass and the load from Jake in his mouth. Ethan, the monstrous mass of muscle and veins looked down at Cole. “Mmmm that’s it babe. You’ve no idea how amazing it feels to be this mmmmmmmmmm swollen”. Ethan slowly pumped his freaky upperbody, expanding as Tim and Kyle, broken on the ground, looked up at their new god. “To think I was as weak and skinny as you are now, Cole. Now I’m so ripped that normal people will lose their lunch and me disgusting….. THATS SO HOT”. Ethan, lost in the high from the roid and lust cocktail that was his own blood, exploded into a most muscular. “Come on baby. Let that roid cum take over. Let it flood through your veins. Become the mass freak you’ve always wanted”. Ethan twisted so his 10 pack bugled out as he grabbed his 16 inch cock “become a freak of nature. Who cares? You will be invincible like me!” Cole, now sweating rivers with little veins starting to slowing appear all over his body, walked towards his mutated boyfriend. “You think I want to be like you? You think I spent months with Kyle stretching my asshole to be like YOU? Why the fuck would I risk my life to experiment on myself to get just as ripped as you!” Cole spat on the ground and looked at his confused boyfriend. Cole was slowly stoking his slightly bulging 16 inch biceps. A grin already appearing on his face. “You see, baby, I’ve hidden from you what a (Cole was now whispering) what a freak I want to be”. Coles 7 inch cock was now rock hard and leaking, but not from the infusing of supercum, but from his dream of what was about to happen. “I knew if we were able to get these freaks together, we would become muscle demigods! But all those years (Cole was now yelling as the veins crossed his whole expanding body) of wanking over muscle porn, I couldn’t STAND the idea of letting anyone be as BIG AS ME”. Cole suddenly and violently went into a double bi, as 100 pounds of new muscle exploded onto him. “Awewwwwwe ooohhhh goooooddddddd”. Ethan was now a freak, but Cole’s transformation seemed more extreme and faster. Ethan looked at Cole “what babe? You think you can get bigger and harder THAN THIS?!” Ethan used his anger and feeling of needing to be alpha to flex harder than any human in history, his chemical factory body forcing all the chemicals into overdrive. “Ooooooooooooo ahhhhhh”. It was almost too much for the boy who looked like the Hulk going supernova. “Aahhhhhhh tooo muchhhhhhh”. Ethans head was supposed by his veiny shoulders, his ears pressed in by them. His cock now 18 inches was too hard to imagine, and his now 12 pack felt like the hull of a ship. Ethan then heard it. A little chuckle. Cole was watching this display. “Too much? Did you really say too much, little Ethan? THERE IS NEVER TOO MUCH STRENGTH”. Cole dropped into the same pose than Ethan, and Ethan cum involuntarily as he watched Cole match him, and pass him in seconds. “GGGGGHRRRRRRRRR”. Coles head swung from side to side as he let the orgasmic feeling of skin stretching take over. “IM A GOD”!!!!!!!!! Ethan watched his formally cute boyfriend mutate into an utter monster. A muscle god. A freak of nature. A part of him wanted to say “stop babe. It’s dangerous. A person isn’t mean to be THAT ripped. But Ethan couldn’t. He was a muscle slut, and Cole’s violent transformation made him only 1 thing - horny beyond reason. Cole was beside himself with joy. Not just licking his biceps, but tracing the hose like veins with his tongue. Grabbing at his 18 inch dick which had already leaked 3-4 pints of pre onto the floor. This insane sight made Ethan explode. “NO. I MUST BE THE BIGGEST. IVE DONE EVERYTHING TO MAKE MYSELF APLHA”. Ethan was desperate. He charged to Kyles table and started slamming syringes into himself, taking up a month of Kyles dose in seconds. But he was already so big that it hardly sent a ripple through him as he gained another 10 pounds. Cole laughted an cocky laugh as Ethan lifted Kyles jeap and starting to power it up and down over his head, desperate for more growth. His sanity was gone. Ethan drived to Cole feet and started to lick up all the pre. He could hear all the cum and roids splashing around in his gut. Cole decided to prove his power. Cole smashed his cock into Ethans virgin asshole. “Looks like I’m a top”! Cole screamed as he pounded Ethan with enjoy forced to crack the concrete floor. Ethan NEEDED more mass. He needed to teach God Cole a lesson. Ethan wanted to leave his old self behind, so in his utter desperation for muscle, he used his massively buff arms to push on the floor, and force him back to take Cole’s entire 18 inch dick. He needed Cole’s cum and as deep as it would go. Ethan could see Cole’s super enhanced bellend in the centre of his chest. Cole couldn’t take the sheer pressure of Ethans virgin and hyper muscled asshole taking all of him. Cole released his load “POPOOOOOOOOO GOD!” Ethan screamed as the effect was instant. There was so much cum in him it was almost coming out of his nose and mouth. He screamed as he hit the 400 pound mark. “COLE. YOUR A GOD. IM THE FUCKING DEVIL”. Ethan flexed the largest body ever imagined even in the sickest porn. “I’m bigger…. Baby”.

Ryan was a freak. The bettertone gym knew what type of guy he was. He was a skinny runt at school, and never got what he wanted. So, at college, he hit the gym hard, trying to burry the little guy insane under Tons of iron. Everyone in the gym liked skinny, nervous Ryan at first. Then Ryan started to change. He was pushing himself too hard, often collapsing in effort. 6 days a week. That’s when Ryan started on the gear. He added 50 pounds in a month. He didn’t care who in the locker room saw him inject his ass not so secretly in the cubicals. He didn’t care that he was becoming arrogant and aggressive. In face, he liked it. He was his arms getting swollen, his chest become powerful and starting to get a little swollen due to the roids. And he LOVED all the veins snaking around his growing body. “Gggrrrrrrr urhgggg”. He loves to be loud in the gym as he lifts. The feeling of muscle expanding and staining to add more size. It made him hot thinking of people watching his skinny ass vanish day by day. But Ryan wanted SO much more. One day, after a hard session, Ryan was swaggering out of the gym when the owners son stopped him. “Your swelling up bro. But your always gonna be skinny. Unless, you get extreme”. The very word “extreme” made Ryan hard. Being called skinny made him want to put his extra 50 pounds of roid muscle into action and attack this kid, but he looked jacked. Too jacked. “I am extreme. I’ll eat anything. I’ll inject anything. I’ll lift anyway. I’m not stopping till I’m Invincible”. The kid looked at him. “Ok alpha. Let’s see what we can do. My dad owns this place. Come back when it’s closed and I’ll show you what….. Ryan snapped. “No. Fuck that. You don’t call me skinny. I’m extreme and I’m going to grow into a MONSTER”. With that Ryan flexed harder than ever. His veins popping out all over him. He locked eyes with the kid, willing more mass into his frame. “You got something that’s gonna fuel me? Bring it OONNNNN”. The kid, Alex, was hard as rock. He was right about Ryan, from all his spy sessions. He was gonna be able to balloon him. “Fine stud. No waiting. Back in the gym now”. Ryan stormed backed in and headed to the weights that Alex directed him to. As Ryan starting to power the barbell up, he shook violently. He couldn’t lift such a massive weight. That’s when he felt Alex step closer behind him. Alex was half hard, as he injected Ryan in the shoulder as he licked his neck. “Mmmmm that’s it stud. Feel the most extreme gear ever”. “You insane. Your injecting in front of a whole gym?!?” “I thought you would do anything for muscle growth?” Ryan’s brain flipped. He didn’t care who saw him. He was happy to be a gear freak. He was getting boned at people watching shredded Alex injected him. “Fuck yea” heaved Ryan as he started to power the barbell up and down. The fact that Alex was roiding him up in the middle of the gym was as intoxicating as the extreme cocktail of roids now invading his system. “Ggrrrrr yea. I can feel it. I’m getting so yoked!!!! More Alex, fill me with yummy testosterone” After injection 4, Ryan was so into his roid rage he used his inhanced power to launch the barbel into the wall. Ryan turned to Alex. “MORE” Alex was right about this freak! “Ok beast. But it’s only safe to take 4 at once so……. Ryan couldn’t take this pansy shit. He lunged at Alex. Before Alex knew what was happening, in front of a gym full of onlookers, this freak plunged 6 more syringes into himself. Ryan closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling. The rush. Power. Aggression. Horniness. All of it. He could feel all the roids sloshing around in his gut. His shirt stretched over it. Alex walked up behind him. Fully hard as he rubbed Ryan’s new roid gut. “Mmmm baby, you are intense. Now, let’s see what this power can do”. Ryan drove on the weight bench and yelled to gym twinks to add more weight. “Do what I say, bitches. I’m about to hulk out and you don’t want to be on my bad side”. Ryan pumped and pumped. Veins exploding on his body. His muscles were adding pounds and pounds of swollen mass. “Ahhhhhh yea. Fuck yes. I’m gonna be the biggest alpha ever. I’ll BE UNSTOPPABLE”. As his now swollen biceps were as hard and veiny as his dick, Alex decided to take it up a notch. Alex walked to the weight bench, to the hulking Ryan, and Alex smiled evilly to the gym twinks as he pulled his shorts down, and fed his hard dick into Ryan’s mouth. Ryan’s body instinctively knew what was happening. More testosterone. More cum. More muscle. MORE GROWTH. Ryan sucked as he continued to lift. Alexs pre cum was already travelling to his gut, and Ryan was on the verge of orgasm as he felt his mutation being supercharged. With a mouth full of cock, Ryan forced out a few words “mmmmmm make me a Titan. Skinny bitches will worship me. Mmmm ggrrrr need morreeeeeee” With that, Alex exploded into Ryan. And like any extreme overdose, the effect on Ryan was insane. Ryan’s arms exploded with 6 new inches. His roid guy shredded his shirt. His now 9 inch monster dick forced its way out of his jock. Super Ryan stood to his full enhanced height. “IM A MUSCLE SIZE KING”. Everyone came in their pants as little Ryan flexed and bulged and swelled. “Ooooo this is amazing. Cum and roids have made me a MONSTER. I FEEL INCREDIBLE”. Ryan then looked down, to his own mammoth prick. Flexing his new dick, he gave the boys in the gym a shit eating grin as he forced his own dick into his mouth, as he easily curled the formally heavy weight. Ryan, now a muscle mutant, was hungry for more. Alex watched Ryan continue to curl the massive weight as he sucked his own prick. Alex knew the experimental gear and his cum would do freaky stuff, but Ryan was mutating into a muscle monster worse than anyone! Ryan finally popped his dick out of his mouth. It made a loud smack sound as it bounced up and down and slammed into his 8 pack. Ryan looked at the gym twinks, all of whom were rock hard and horrified. 2 had been sick. 3 had cum. “Watch this you little betas” Ryan excitedly breathed. Ryan grabbed the weight, and bend the steel. “Ooooooo yeaaaaaaa”. Ryan was on the verge of orgasm as he felt his power. “You!” Ryan barked at one of the twunks who hadn’t exploded yet. The twunk walked over to the muscle monster like he was in a trance. “You like what you see? You like that I’m a skinny guy who can destroy you. You like that I was weak and now my ssssexy and mmmmmassive muscles can destroy you?” The twunk fell to his knees, crying that he was so turned on. He started licking the visibly pumping veins on Ryan’s legs. “Let’s get FREAKY” Ryan screamed. With that, he ripped the twunks clothes off, and lifted him, and placed him on his right bicep, with one leg either side. Ryan was beyond excited to test his new musclebound extreme ness. “I’m gonna see if I’m ripped enough now to make a jock like you lose control….. Ryan then flexed his bicep as hard as he could, with the twunk still sat on it. The massive bicep peak crushed his balls and forced his ass checks apart. “Ohhhhh godddddd” he whimped as he looked at Ryan. Ryan grinned a cocky look. “Yeaaaaa. You thought you were big. I’m gonna flex and my bicep is gonna overload your balls and prostate. Your gonna get off to the feeling of me getting all swolllllllllllll. Grrrrrrrrrrr YEA!!!!!!!!!!!! Ryan flexed harder than ever, his massive peak invading the twunks ass and smashing his balls. He didn’t stand a chance, and shot cum blast after cum blast, which Ryan opened his mouth for. “FEED ME YOU CUNT. MAKE ME HULK OUT! Ryan screamed in orgasmic bliss as his shoulders bulged out of control, adding 3 inches each in seconds. “IM A DEMI GODDDDDDD” Ryan drolled as his watched new veins, as thick as snakes, cross his arms, forcing them to new 29 inch peaks. Finally, he slapped his roid and cum gut and heard what sounded like steel being struck with a hammer. “Oooooooo ahhhhh I’m so fucking SOLID”. In a total roid and sexual frenzy rage, Ryan grabbed a twink who was jerking his 9 inch cock, through him to the ground and mounted him. “MOREEEEEEEEE”. Ryan looked at three more muscle boys, who drew closer as they were too scared to run. Each started to beat off in front of him, showering him with new yummy testosterone. The new infusion sent him off the deep end. It was terrifying to see the veins spread across his face, confirming how much of a freak he was now. “IM UNSTOPPABLE” he yelled in a much deeper voice. Desperate to test his power, Ryan launched himself at a wall, punching and beating it into powder and rubble.

Took a break from writing the Ben and Will series, but I’ll be getting back to it! In the meantime, here’s a short story. - A Little Goes a Long Way - Kole and I had been rivals for quite some time. It was nothing malicious, but it was certainly competitive and mean-spirited at times. Both of us were the biggest guys at our gym. It had been that way for over a year now. But wait, how could there possible be TWO biggest guys at the same gym? Isn’t that kind of self-contradictory? Normally, it would be. But every pound of muscle I gained, Kole gained somewhere else. I would spend a week building my pecs, and the same week his quads would put on just as much mass. We were both 6’4, and currently around 260 pounds. We clearly dwarfed everyone else in our gym, and we made it clear we were in charge. Anything we wanted, we got, no questions asked. Especially when it came to satiating our constantly heightened libido. I had never seen what Kole was packing down there, but I had a hard time imagining it was any bigger than my 10 inch snake. I never went a day in the gym without my fill. Neither did Kole. Sometimes we pounded the same guy in one day, other days there would be at least two decently built guys for us to fuck, and we’d be lucky enough that neither of us would have to deal with sloppy seconds. The only thing that prevented us from having sex with each other was the undeniable fact that we were both strict tops, and had a burning need to dominate whoever we were thrusting our cocks into. Can’t really dominate someone the same height and weight as you, who withholds just as much power as you. I had grown extremely frustrated with our rivalry recently. It was nice having someone with the same drive as me to keep me motivated, but it pissed me off not being bigger than him. I wanted to be huge, the fucking BIGGEST. Bigger than him, stronger than him, more godlike than him. Our tie for first place was getting on my nerves. I got home from the gym at least an hour after dark, and threw my purposely undersized, tight-fitting gym outfit onto my bed. I looked over at my mirror and groped my 10 inch cock, getting hard at how hot I was. Then it hit me. How I was going to get bigger than Kole. I had a friend from high school I occaisonally slept around with when I was bored. he was a super smart guy, even had his own pharmaceutical company he was starting. Maybe he had something up his sleeve. I grabbed my phone and rushed to my contact list. ”Hey Dan, it’s Rhett. Been a while since I destroyed that tight ass of yours. Anyway, you got something that could help me grow? Relatively fast, I mean?” I was almost certain I was going to have to leave a message but he picked up immediately. “Yeah, actually. I’ll swing by tonight and show you what I’ve been working on.” An hour later, Dan was in my bed, groping at my 8-pack, ready for me to rail him. “Wait,” I said. “What was it you were working on?” He sat up, half-disappointed I hadn’t rearranged his guts yet, still bare naked. “This.” he handed me a slightly larger-than-normal off-white pill. “What does it do?” I asked. He stared into my hungry eyes with a shit-eating grin. “If you take this, your body will be able to metabolize semen and turn it into muscle mass, no fucking joke. Took me months to perfect, but it’s finally ready. It’s the only one there is, and the only one there’ll ever be. I’m never making another one, but I want you to have this. You’ve always been there for me since high school, aside from the mind-blowing sex.” I didn’t know what to say. I must’ve stared blankly at it for ten minutes before even a word escaped my mouth. “Th- thank you,” I stuttered. “This means a lot, I really fucking appreciate it.” Dan looked up at me with the horniest look I had ever seen. I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to take it. Right now. He wanted to see the results first hand. I couldn’t wait any longer, the temptation finally gave into me. I swallowed the oversized pill whole, and almost instantly felt it. A powerful warmth spread out through my body, and I knew I had to put it to the test. I slid Dan’s 6.5-incher between my defined abs and let him fuck the grooves between them. Not two minutes had passed before he blew his load on my massive chest. I scooped the pool of cum off my pecs with one hand, and started sucking it off my fingers. It wasn’t long before I felt a surge of power jolt through my body. My skin felt tighter, and I could feel myself getting a little taller. My already bulging biceps started gaining mass out of nowhere, my delts matching the pace as they pushed up against my neck. My massive shelf of a chest jutted out further, my 8-pack turning into a 10-pack, my V-line growing more and more defined, my thighs bursting with thick muscle, ready to squash what dare lay between them. And my cock, FUUUUCK my cock, holy shit! I thought 10 inches was big but DAMN. I was now 14 fucking inches hard. I had to be at least 7 feet tall now, 7’2 if I were to guess. Fuck, there was no way I was going to fit into Dan’s tight asshole anymore, not with this monster swinging between my tree trunk thighs. I woke up the next day, still astonished by how much mass I had gained. I got off my bed, and noticed that the frame has cracked overnight. Fuck, I was huge. I carefully stepped onto my scale and weighed myself. 336 pounds. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I had gained 80 pounds just from one dose of cum alone. Some of which was to compensate for added height, but at least 50 pounds of that was additional solid fucking muscle. None of my clothes would fit anymore, so I had to go the gym naked, not that anyone would dare tell me I couldn’t. Fuck, I couldn’t wait for Kole to see what I had in store for him. When I got to the gym, I went straight for the locker room and waited until he was unlucky enough to wander in. “Hey, stud,” I mockingly let out from behind him. “Check this.” Kole turned around and his jaw dropped at the fucking god I had become. “I- holy FUCK man, you’re HUUUGE!” he gasped. I caught him looking down at my gigantic rod. “Like what you see, bitch?” I taunted. I reached down to my cock with my meaty hands and started jerking it, prepared to grow again, right in front of my rival, someone who, up until today, had been my equal in every sense of the word. “Fuuuck dude,” I moaned. “You see this cock? You’ll get a turn soon enough.” As I blew my load, I aimed my dick toward my mouth and my cum was launched into my own mouth. I swallowed it. All of it. I could feel my body humming with power again, ready to gain even more mass. My 10-pack abs turned into cobblestones of pure muscle, my muscled ass extending into the most powerful, juiciest fucking bubble butt ever. My pecs swelled so huge they almost made it so I couldn’t see my feet. My biceps bulged past the size of my head. and my beastly cock extended to a full length of 19 solid inches, ready for power-fucking. I had to be almost 8 feet tall, and at least 400 pounds. Kole stared up at me, motionless. I looked back down at him, towering over my once-equal by almost two whole feet. “You’re my bitch now. Get on your knees.” I ordered. My glorious meat slapped him hard in the face as he knelt down. Before Kole could even ready himself, I slammed all 19 inches of my monster cock down his throat. Pulling his head along the length of it. I could hear him choking in the sheer fucking girth of it, god it sounded so good. The way he looked up at me, his mouth fully engulfed, completely powerless, turned me on even more than. I already was. I withdrew my cock from his mouth and turned him around, still gasping for air from the near 20 inches of raw sex meat that had just invaded his windpipe. “Get ready for the most violent fucking ass pounding you’ve ever had.” I pushed the head of my massive cock against his toned asscheeks, waiting a few seconds before I plunged the entire length of it into him. Kole let out a whorish moan of both extreme pain and pleasure as I pounded his hole. His legs were already in the air, and the only thing he was able to use to keep himself steady was his arms as I thrusted deeper and harder into his muscled ass, but not for long. I increased my speed and force, and eventually, Kole’s arms gave out and I was holding him by the waist like my own personal fucktoy, pulling him up and down my cock as I reached closer and closer to orgasming. Kole already came at least three times by now, but I hadn’t pounded him enough to blow my load yet. I thrusted deeper and harder into him, going even faster, about to reach my climax. Just as I thought his cries had deafened, Kole let out an orgasmic moan as I filled his ass with my cum, leaking out his hole and down his legs, Forming a pool on the locker room floor. I yanked Kole off my still-hard cock, and let him fall to the floor. “I’m your god now,” I roared. “Get used to being my fucktoy, because your ass is the only one I’m gonna be pounding now.”

Jed couldn't believe it. Dexter was eating again. Jed's locker was just down the hall from Dexter's. He watched as Dexter, his face buried in his locker, cracked open a canned protein shake and with the ferocity of someone who hasn't eaten in days, glugged it down in three giant gulps. Dexter then grabbed a handful of snack bars, slammed his locker shut, and loped past Jed towards the study hall they both had next period. Dexter was wearing baggy jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. Jed watched Dexter as he passed. Something wasn't right. Jed was used to looking down on Dexter as were most of the other students at school. But now, Jed realized that he could not see the top of Dexter's head as he shuffled passed eyes fixed on the floor. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He couldn't get to his locker fast enough. He was starving! That morning he had eaten even more than usual -- a three egg omelet, two breakfast sausages, and a bowl of grits. Thankfully his mother still enjoyed cooking for him. He was full when he finished, but that lasted barely an hour. By 9, his stomach felt empty. By 9:30, he was hungry. By 9:45, he was counting the seconds till the period was over and he could rush to his locker where he knew he had snacks waiting. Dexter felt Jed eyeing him. He hated that he had so many classes with Jed. Many people picked on Dexter, but Jed was the worst. Of course, that hadn't happened recently. Things were changing. The bell rang and Dexter leapt from his seat and tore across the room and down the hall to reach his locker as quickly as possible. He had finished his protein shake before he realized he even had his locker open. It felt so good to drink it. His body calmed a bit. He took a breath and grabbed three of the healthy snack bars that his mom started buying for him. He knew the protein shake wasn't going to be near enough. Three snack bars would hopefully do it. Lunch was an hour and a half away. He raced past Jed without looking up at him. Even from his periphery, Dexter noticed that Jed was seeming less and less tall. Soon, Dexter thought, I'll be the taller one. Maybe very soon. Dexter was asleep in class again. Jed didn't know how he got away with it. Dexter was sitting in his usual front corner desk when Jed entered the room. Before Jed could settle in a seat, Dexter opened a book like he was going to study, then quickly unwrapped three snack bars. A disinterested Mr. Bowman sat behind his desk facing the class. He never cared what the students did as long as they kept quiet. Each student took a seat, the room quieted, and Dexter methodically and silently ate three snack bars, one after the other, appearing to savor each bite. He then put his head down on his desk and seemed to fall asleep instantly. Again, Jed thought something wasn't right. Dexter's sweatshirt was baggy and oversized, but Jed could not convince himself that Dexter wasn't almost filling it out. In his position leaning forward, the sweatshirt appeared to be stretched somewhat tightly across Dexter's shoulders and upper back. As he slept, Dexter's chest expanded and contracted with each slow breath. With each expansion, Jed swore he could see Dexter's lat muscles coming further into focus under the sweatshirt. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? Dexter's back couldn't be that wide, his back muscles couldn't be that pronounced, and there is no way those could possibly be Dexter’s shoulders and upper arms filling out the sweatshirt. He must be wearing a thick shirt underneath. Maybe it was even a second sweatshirt. That had to be it. Dexter shifted slightly, his arms changing position, the creases in what to Jed increasingly seemed like a stretched sweatshirt changing to accommodate the shifting mysterious bulk beneath. Jed looked away. He must be going crazy. Dexter made sure his book was opened and his snack bars unwrapped before the normal classroom noises died down. He liked sitting in the front corner of the classroom -- close enough to the teacher that no one would mess with him, far enough from the teacher not to draw his attention. The snack bars were so inviting. He was still very hungry. He wanted to wolf them down but knew that would be a bad idea. So, he ate them as slowly as he could manage. Each bite was delicious. He knew each mouthful he swallowed would go towards his growing body. It felt so good. He wasn't wearing anything under the sweatshirt. Each time he brought a bar to his mouth to take a bite, he could feel the tightness of his sweatshirt as it stretched ever so slightly over his shoulder and arms. He resisted the temptation to flex. His biceps and triceps bulged now even without flexing. Could he see the peak of his bicep through the sweatshirt even now? Was the sweatshirt that tight on him? It couldn't be. He took another bite. Then another. Then another until he was finished. He got tired right away as he often did after eating these days. The weight of the snack bars and protein shake felt good in his stomach. His body was happy. Maybe he would grow. He realized he should bury that thought. The thought of growing excited him. Sometimes he got hard just thinking about it. His jeans were very baggy, but now he was starting to worry they were not baggy enough. He looked down at the folds of the jeans over his lap. The bulge of his penis was obvious to him. It was so big now. People couldn't tell, though, right? He wasn't sure he wanted anybody to notice. Except maybe Cindy. People would just see bunched baggy jeans. Maybe he should try to stay awake. If he fell asleep, he might get an erection. He was so tired, though. Before he could register just how tired, he was asleep. Forty minutes went by slowly for Jed. People kept trying to pass him notes mostly to ask about his girlfriend Cindy. Jed refused to write back. Cindy was fine and yes, she was still his girlfriend and people needed to stop asking him about it or he was going to get mad. All the while, his mind kept coming back to Dexter who was dead to the world asleep. Jed's friends finally gave up on him. Left alone, Jed was drawn once again to Dexter's sleeping form. With each passing moment, Jed became more and more convinced that Dexter did seem to be the wrong size. He was too big. Something was definitely wrong. Jed scanned Dexter from head to toe taking in everything that looked wrong -- thick arms, rounded shoulders, a wide back, and... was that a giant bulge in Dexter's crotch? Jed tried to look away -- this was disgusting -- but he couldn't. It could be a trick of his jeans, which were every bit as baggy as his sweatshirt, but was it? Jed watched with fascination and horror as the bulge at Dexter's crotch started to grow. It grew, pushing outward, a dome bigger than Jed's eyes wanted him to believe. There was a pause, then abruptly the bulge changed and began snaking its way down Dexter's right leg. One inch, then another, then another until a bulge as thick as a can of energy drink and twice as long snaked more than halfway to Dexter's knee! It was enormous! Dexter's breathing became deeper and faster. What was clearly a giant erection pulsed against Dexter's increasingly tight jeans. Moment after moment, breath after breath, the bulge in Dexter's pants seemed to swell towards its full size. Could Jed see the head of Dexter's cock inflating under his jeans? It looked the size of a baseball! Suddenly, Dexter shot awake. He sat up, looked down at his lap, and immediately flushed. Jed forced his eyes to the front of the room. He tried to forget what he just saw. Finally, the bell rang, and Jed left the room with the class. Dexter was having a dream about Cindy. Fuck it was good. She was so damn hot. Her tits huge and so soft. He was about to kiss them. Cindy moaned, her pink nipples swelling towards his waiting mouth... Derek bolted awake. Fuck, he’d fallen asleep. He was immediately aware of the giant erection straining against his jeans. Fuck, it was huge! People would see! He repositioned his legs and shifted his sweatshirt, so it covered as much of his leg as possible. Fuck, stop thinking of Cindy. Think of something else. Anything else. Did anyone notice? Dexter scanned the room. Nobody seemed to have noticed, but Dexter thought Jed seemed to be making a point of looking straight ahead at the empty whiteboard. Mercifully, the bell rang. Dexter stayed seated as the rest of the class left the room. He felt his cock deflate slightly. "Ok there Dexter?" Mr. Bowman asked with an inquisitive look? "Yes, I'm fine Mr. Bowman", Dexter responded gathering his things. He stood to leave. When he reached his full height, he realized things looked different. The angles were off. Things looked lower. Was he taller? He had had a few tall mornings recently, waking up realizing he had grown overnight. It couldn't have happened while he was napping during class, could it? Mr. Bowman raised an eyebrow. Dexter hurried out of the classroom. Jed couldn't believe what he'd seen. Or what he'd thought he'd seen. What was happening? Trying to appear calm to anybody who was watching, he walked towards his locker. Cindy was supposed to meet him there. He rounded the corner of the hall where his locker was. No Cindy. Jed just kept walking. People were watching him. He just kept walking. He arrived early to his next class -- physical education. He walked straight to his locker and started to change. One more period to go till lunch. He would probably see Cindy there, unless she was making a point to avoid him, which she might be. He thought back to two weeks ago when things really started to go bad with them. Jed was messing with Dexter as he had done countless times before. He had twisted Dexter's arm behind his back and was slowly raising it higher as Dexter squealed in pain. A small crowd had gathered to watch the entertainment. Jed's friends were goading him on. Then Cindy was there. "Why do you always have to pick on him?!" Cindy shrieked at him. "Why shouldn't I?!" Jed shot back. But what he was thinking was, "Because I saw you looking at him! Again!" What was worse is there was something wrong with Dexter. He was putting up much more of a fight than he ever had before. He screamed at Jed in his squeaky voice, "Let me go!" and tried furiously to break Jed's grip. Jed's left hand was clutching Dexter's upper left arm, Jed's right hand forced Dexter's right arm up his back, well past the point of pain. Suddenly, Dexter grunted, really more of a squeak, and tried to escape, forcing his right arm downward and lurching forward to break Jed's grip on his left arm. Even through his oversized sweatshirt, Jed felt Dexter's left arm swell with hard muscle as his biceps and triceps flexed violently. His right arm forced Jed’s down an inch or two before Jed, throwing all his strength into it, managed to stop Dexter's escape attempt... just barely. Dexter struggled for a few more seconds before giving up. Jed had won again, but just barely. Jed was shocked at Dexter's seemingly brand new strength and the way his arm had swelled when he tried to escape. Jed looked back at Cindy to find her glaring at him. Her arms were crossed under very ample breasts. Her eyes were points of anger aimed directly at Jed. Jed let Dexter go and he shuffled off, eyes down, tears streaming down his face. Cindy broke her gaze with Jed to watch Dexter as he left. Things had been bad with Cindy ever since. Everything in the hallway looked just the slightest bit shorter to Dexter. The lockers, the classroom doors, and even the other students. Could this really be happening? He did have not time to dwell on it. The friction of his jeans against his cock as he hurried down the hall caused his erection to return in full force and then some. His swollen cock had escaped his underwear, he knew. As he walked, his cock head pushed closer and closer to his knee. It strained against his increasingly tight jeans, his quadricep muscles flexing against his swollen erection. The thought of his cock growing caused it to swell that much more. He had to find someplace private and deal with this situation. He had to get to gym class though. There was no way he could walk into the changing room like this. Frantically, he ducked into a bathroom and into an empty stall quickly closing the door behind him. There were two other guys in the bathroom. A bead of sweat ran down Dexter's forehead as he waited desperately for them to leave. The instant they were out the door, Dexter unzipped his jeans and pulled them down. His dick was straining against his over-matched underwear. His cock head and at least two inches of shaft had escaped the bottom edge of his underwear. Dexter marveled at it for half a heartbeat before ripping his underwear down. His cock surged and sprang upward thickening and lengthening by inches. Fuck, it must be ten inches long! Dexter put both his hands on his cock and instantly it exploded in an intense orgasm. Spurt after spurt of cum erupted from his dick and splattered against the door of the stall. Dexter became lost in the orgasm as he ejaculated over and over. He finally came to his senses almost a minute later. The door was slathered with cum, which was dripping and pooling on the floor. How was he going to clean all that up? His dick was still half hard. Wondering how he would stuff it back in his pants, he reached down to pull them up, and saw his legs. His quads looked muscular! And big! It was only a couple of days ago doing leg presses that he noticed how crazy strong they had become. The silence surrounding him reminded Dexter that he was late to class. With some effort, he stuffed himself into his pants, used fistfuls of paper towels to clean his cum off the stall door and floor, and rushed off to gym class. Jed was the first person dressed and ready for class. Today's class was about proper bench press technique. It was a valuable exercise, but if done wrong could lead to shoulder problems. The teacher, Mr. Greer, asked Jed to demonstrate proper technique and then spot other students as they demonstrated theirs. Jed demonstrated first with just the bar to show perfect technique. To show how things can go wrong, Mr. Greer asked Jed to do additional sets progressively adding more and more weight. Jed started with 25 lbs. on either side, which was still easy for him. He then put 45-pound weights on either side for a total of 135 lbs., not his max, but definitely something he could feel. Jed did a full set of 10 as Mr. Greer pointed out how Jed was still maintaining proper form despite the fact that he was working harder to move the weights. "Are you up to push yourself further?" Mr. Greer asked Jed. "Of course, Mr. Greer. Let's go to 185." Pleaser, Mr. Greer added a 25 lb. plate to either side of the bar. Jed took a deep breath and pushed the bar upward. He proceeded to execute 7 repetitions, the last two of which were a little shaky. Mr. Greer pointed out how Jed's form started to loosen as he reached the end of the set. "Let's go up a little more, Jed. Just for a couple of reps to show the class why it's smart to be aware of your limits. I'll spot you. You'll be safe." Mr. Greer put 10 lbs on either side of the bar bringing the total weight to 195 lbs. Jed wasn't very worried. He had maxed at this level before. He took another deep breath and pushed the bar upwards. Be lowered the bar to his chest and could feel his form loosening. His back was arching slightly, his elbows shaking a little as he slowly thrust the weight up to complete his first rep. He lowered the bar again and struggled through a second rep. Mr. Greer started to say, "That's enough, Jed", but Jed lowered the bar for a third rep. As it touched his chest, he knew he made a mistake. He struggled with all his might, but the bar raised only a few inches before Mr. Greer grabbed the bar and re-racked it. "That is a great demonstration, class, of why you do not want to push yourself too far." Mr. Greer looked across the room to the door. "Ah. Dexter. So kind of you to join us. Perhaps you should be next to show the class your technique on the bench." Jed looked over and saw Dexter in the doorway of the gym. He was wearing an oversized tee shirt and shorts. Jed thought his forearms looked oddly thick. So did his calves. Mr. Greer turned to Jed. "Jed", Mr. Greer said, "why don't you spot Dexter while I observe." Jed responded, "Yes, sure, I'll spot." Dammit. Dexter had arrived at just the wrong time. He was hoping to avoid attention at today's class. Instead, he was about to go second behind Jed in a class demonstration. To Dexter's dismay, Mr. Greer asked Jed to spot. Jed agreed quickly, but Dexter thought his voice sounded shaky somehow. Dexter actually loved lifting weights. His muscles had grown so much over the past couple of months, it was insane. On top of which, bench was one of his favorites. His pecs always pumped incredibly from a good chest workout. They actually felt pumped right now as did his entire body from the strenuous activities of the bathroom just a few minutes ago. Dexter tried to ignore the fact that Jed would be his spotter and took his place on the bench. They started with just the bar. God, it was so light. Dexter complete 10 repetitions like it was nothing. When he started a couple months ago, even just the bar was pushing it for him. Things were so different now. "Ok, that was obviously too easy for Dex. Slow down son! And keep your form tight. Let's throw on some 25's." Jed put 25 lbs. on either side of the bar bringing the weight to 95 lbs. Dexter knew it would be easy. He completed 10 steady reps with barely any effort. He could feel his pecs and arms beginning to swell. "Looking good, son." Mr. Greer said. "Let's go up to 45's." Dexter was surprised. Mr. Greer had never jumped him up so quickly. Jed replaced the 25's with 45's and took his place behind the bench. Dexter wrapped his hands around the bar. A couple weeks ago, this was his max weight. He pushed upward lifting the bar off the rack rather easily. He steadied the weight and then lowered it to his chest. It felt light! He pressed it up with relative ease. God, he'd gotten strong. He completed nine more repetitions without struggling at all. "Wow, son, these weights have worked wonders on you, haven't they? Think you're ready to jump right to 185?" Dexter started to say, "I don't know..." but was interrupted by Mr. Greer. "Sure, you are. You'll be fine." Wordlessly, Jed added 25 lb. weights to either side of the bar. 185 lbs. was a lot for Dexter. In fact, it was his max lift from last week. He had managed only three shaky repetitions. But he felt good. His pecs felt full and pumped. He grabbed the bar and without hesitation lifted it off the rack. It didn't feel as heavy as last week. He lowered it to his chest and fearing it might get stuck there immediately tried to push it back up. It moved! Fast! Before he knew it, his arms were fully extended. Fuck, that was a lot easier than last week! He lowered the bar and did another easy repetition. Then a third and a fourth and a fifth. He slowed down on the sixth and perhaps a little more on the 7th. He was suddenly conscious that the entire class was watching him. He'd forgotten this was a class demo. He still felt he could do more reps, but before he could move, Jed racked the weight, keeping Dexter from attempting an 8th rep. He immediately felt blood surge to his chest. The pump felt amazing. "Very good son! What progress! Let's keep going. Another 10 on each side, Jed." There was a beat where Jed froze, but then he started mechanically loading the additional weight. "I don't know if..." Dexter began. "You can, son" Mr. Greer interrupted. Jed finished and took his place behind the bench. Dexter gripped the bar, took a deep breath, and pushed against the bar. It lifted off the rack. It did feel heavy. He took another breath and lowered it to his pumped swollen chest. He let it rest there just a moment and then pushed with all his might. He felt his pecs, shoulders, and triceps bulge with the effort. The bar went up! He completed a rep. It felt good. He lowers the bar for a second rep. His muscles surged upward for another successful rep, faster than the first, which he completed with a grunt. It escaped his lips before he realized it. Fuck, I can do another, he thought. He lowered the bar for a third rep. His chest felt hot. He could feel he was starting to sweat. He pushed the bar up and with another somewhat louder grunt completed the rep even faster than the second. That was three! He paused with the bar raised, panting. Sweat was beading on his forehead, but he still felt strong. He was about to lower the bar for a fourth repetition when he felt it pulled away from him. Jed had grabbed the bar and re-racked it. "Well, class, that was some textbook form even up to the end. I suspect we could push Dexter further, but we'll let him off the hook for today. Very well done, Dexter. Very well done indeed." Still on the bench, Dexter looked up at Mr. Greer who was beaming. Dexter lifted himself off the bench and slowly stood up. His eyes reached the angle they were used to seeing the world when Dexter was fully standing and then continued to rise, just a little bit. Everything seemed lower, smaller, including Mr. Greer. Dexter was looking down into his eyes. Weren't he and Mr. Greer the same height? "Thank you, Mr. Gr--” Dexter’s voice cracked. He could feel his face flush with embarrassment. He could also feel his chest, shoulders and arms filling with blood, his muscles swelling. His gym shirt was feeling tighter with each passing moment. "Thank you very much, Mr. Greer." Dexter finished. Did his voice sound deeper? "Alright, son, go ahead and finish your workout" Mr. Greer said, placing his hand on Dexter's shoulder. Dexter thought Mr. Greer's hand looked small on his shoulder, which was pumping with blood and clearly muscular under his tee shirt. "I will", Dexter responded in what to his ears sounded like an obviously deeper version of his voice. "Let's thank Jed for being a good sport about spotting." Mr. Greer offered. He and the rest of the class clapped politely. Dexter turned to look at Jed. Dexter found that he was looking Jed level in the eye. Something must be wrong -- the floor must not be level. Jed is way taller than him. Dexter raised his hands to join the clapping and felt the tightness of his tee shirt around his arms. Jed's eyes were everywhere but on Dexter, though Dexter thought he seemed nervous somehow. "Ok, let's find our next victim..." Mr. Greer continued the lesson. Dexter pulled up the lower half of his tee shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead, and then melted into the crowd making his way to the chest press machine to continue his workout. He definitely needed to continue working out. His pecs felt incredible. Dexter looked down at himself and observed how his pecs protruded from his chest like a shelf. He flexed and watched them ripple and bulge under his shirt. Jed watched Dexter take his place on the bench. From this perspective, Jed could not help but notice the bulges of Dexter's body even under his oversized clothing. The way his shorts draped over his legs; it was clear his quads were huge with separated musculature. Not to mention the bulge of his cock. There was a softball sized dome that caused his shorts to stretch and pucker. Jed quickly moved his eyes elsewhere, but things got no better. Dexter's pecs, shoulders, and arms looked big, way bigger than Jed would ever have thought possible. Jed tried to keep his face blank as he watched Dexter do ten reps with the bar like it was nothing. The 25's on each side barely changed things. The domes of Dexter's pecs bulged with each far-too-easy-looking repetition. When Mr. Greer suggested moving to 45's, Jed started to dread what was about to happen. Dexter completed 10 perfect reps at 135 lbs., his muscles swelling just a bit more with each contraction. Jed notices that, while Dexter was working, he had a look of absolute pleasure on his face, snapping back to reality only after the bar was re-racked. Jed was trying to think of a way to stop this, to get Dexter off the bench, when Mr. Greer suggested Dexter move up to 185 lbs. Recognizing that he missed his chance, Jed added a 25 to each side of the bar. Jed remembered seeing Dexter struggle to do a single rep with this weight last week. He was completely shocked to see Dexter push the weight off the rack like it was his normal work weight. Dexter did his first rep so easily that it appeared to surprise Dexter himself as much as it did Jed. Dexter proceeded to pump out six more reps, each perfect, his pecs swelling more and more, muscled rippling under his shirt, veins starting to become visible under the reddening skin of his forearms and neck. His seventh rep was as perfect as his first, if a bit slower. Then Dexter paused for some reason. Jed seized the opportunity to rack the weight. Jed knew he struggled more with that weight than Dexter just did -- in front of the entire class. Jed wanted this to end but didn't know how to end it. When Mr. Greer suggested to go to 195 lbs., it felt like a nightmare coming true. He could think of nothing to do, so he added the weight. Dexter grabbed the bar, pushed it off the rack, and proceed to do a solid repetition with it -- a weight that Jed knew Dexter couldn't even lift at all last week. The grunt Dexter released at the completion of his second rep caused Jed to feel something... it made him nervous. The louder grunt during the third successful rep almost caused Jed to jump. Dexter's eyes were half rolled back in pleasure. When Dexter paused for just a moment to catch his breath, Jed did the only thing he could do, grab the bar and re-rack the weight. Jed knew just as much as Mr. Greer did that Dexter could have kept going. Then Dexter stood up, and up, and up, until Jed thought he almost had to look up to meet Dexter's eyes, not that he wanted to do that. When Dexter started talking, his voice sounded more husky than squeaky, and then it cracked, and when Dexter started talking again, Jed swore Dexter's voice sounded deeper. An anxiety started growing in Jed's mind. Things got worse when Mr. Greer thanked Jed for spotting and Dexter turned towards him. Jed made a point to stretch to his full height as Dexter turned. Jed found his eyes were at best level with Dexter's. The globes of Dexter's pecs and shoulders were stretching his gym shirt. Jed may have said something in response to Mr. Greer's thanks or he may not have. When Dexter pulled up his shirt to wipe his face, he revealed a deep 8-pack of abs. The move also highlighted the way his low-hanging short were draped over the giant bulges of his quad muscles and crotch. Jed tried to unfocus his eyes, to look away, but he could not help but follow Dexter as he tried to disappear into the class. Jed was watching as Dexter flexed his pecs causing them to swell obscenely, rippling and filling his oversized shirt. Dexter felt amazing. He realized his gym shirt, which was absolutely huge on him just a couple of weeks ago, was now almost too tight. He could not stop flexing his pecs feeling them fill and stretch the shirt. He jumped on the pec deck machine and alternated sets on the machine with sets of push-ups. He quickly worked his way up to his max weight from last week and then blew past it by forty pounds. The unweighted push-ups were almost too easy, but they did serve to pump his chest to a level he never thought possible. He then moved to the cables and felt his pecs swell even further. He looked down and saw deep ridges where his upper pecs bulged from his rib cage. With each fly maneuver, his pecs and lats pulsed outward pulling his shirt tight. Dexter then moved to the dip station. He ripped through two sets of unweighted reps like they were nothing. He grabbed his weight belt and hooked 10 lbs. to it. Another set of dips. He added another 10. Another set of dips. He was starting to feel it. He added a third 10 bringing the total to 30 lbs. He proceeded to do three sets with thirty pounds of additional weight. He still felt strong, so he did a final set with a single 45 lb. plate. Fuck it felt good. Dexter realized he was lost in the feeling of it. Was he grunting? He finally looked up and saw that the class was beginning to file out of the gym. Mr. Greer waved to him, "C'mon Dex. That's all for today. You don't want to bust out of your clothes, now do you?" he asked with a smile. Dexter laughed somewhat uncomfortably and shouted back, "No Mr. Greer. Of course not." The deep voice that emanated from Dexter sounded in his ears like someone else's. The way a few class members looked back at him made him think that maybe it really was deeper. Dexter lowered his eyes and trailed the rest of the class out of the gym. He was struck again by the shelf of his pecs. He briefly flexed his upper body as he walked, pecs, lats, shoulders, biceps, and triceps. Was that a rip he just heard from his shirt? The rest of the class was a waking nightmare for Jed. Though he tried not to look, he found his eyes continually coming back to Dexter who proceeded to move more weight than Jed had ever seen him move -- in some cases more weight than Jed could probably move. Dexter's muscles bulged while he was exercised, but they bulged even more in between sets as he flexed them brazenly. Dexter was also suddenly not shy about grunting, which he did especially when he was clearly pushing past a previous max weight. What is more, his grunts did not sound right. They were too deep. The squeak in Dexter's voice was gone. Each grunt sounded deeper than the last to Jed. When he grunted during his last set of dips, with 45 lbs. of additional weight, it was so deep that Jed's brain would not accept that it came from Dexter. The rest of the class seemed to notice as well, especially when Dexter responded to Mr. Greer in a baritone that left little doubt that something had changed. Jed was somewhat relieved when Dexter lowered his eyes to follow the class from the gym. But, looking back, he caught glimpses of Dexter flexing his muscles as he walked. At the peak of the flex, Jed swore he heard fabric tearing. Jed hurried to the locker room. He wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. He had spent the entire class spotting other student. He hadn't broken a sweat and did not need to rinse off, Jed decided. He quickly changed into his regular clothes, hoping nobody would notice that he was rushing. Dexter walked in as Jed was about to leave. Jed watched transfixed as Dexter, his eyes still on the floor, stopped in front of his locker, his back to the rest of the class, and flexed again. He expanded his entire upper body -- lats, shoulders, pecs, triceps, and biceps. Jed watched Dexter's lats expand outwards like wings, his shoulders bulged bigger than softballs. Despite the background noise of a full class of students in a changing room, Jed was sure this time he heard Dexter's shirt rip, the sound of which was echoing in Jed's mind as he exited the changing room. Dexter proceeded directly to his locker in the changing room. His body still felt amazing from the workout. He did not look up to see if anyone was paying attention to him. He thought nobody was. He stopped in front of his locker and engaged on one more flex. He could feel every muscle, especially his pecs and triceps, but thought it was his lats that caused his shirt to rip even before he was fully flexed. The ripping sound broke his trance. He aborted the flex before it caused visible damage to his shirt, if it hadn't already. Dexter thought it was a good thing he jerked off just before gym class. Otherwise, he would be getting hard. Dexter had sweat quite a bit during his workout and knew he needed a shower. He grabbed his change of clothes and a towel and entered an empty shower stall. He did not like changing in front of people, so he brought everything into the stall with him, despite the fact that it usually resulted in his putting on his clothes while he was still wet. Removing his shirt in the stall, which was much more confining than Dexter remembered, proved problematic. The sweat soaked short got stuck on his lats and shoulders as he tried to pull it over his head. It was a struggle, and he was sure he heard a rip before he got it off. He looked down at his body, which to him was bulging with muscle. He removed his shorts, turned on the hot water, and began running his hands over his body. Everything felt huge. There was muscle everywhere, especially his pecs, which looked like they were ready to leap from his chest. Fuck, he was going to get hard. He felt his cock swell and stiffen. In moments, it was fully extended pointed straight up. He looked down at his deeply carved abs, comparatively narrow waist, and his extremally large cock and lost control of himself. One hand on his cock, the other steadying against the wall of the stall, he started stroking himself. He could not help it. He hoped he was being quiet. In seconds he exploded like he had in the bathroom, spurt after spurt of his cum splashing against the tiled wall. So much cum that it ran in rivulets down the wall, gathering speed with the shower water, and finally running down the drain. Dexter finally came to his senses enough to finish showering. He took his time to flex each muscle and feel it bulge in his hands. Then came a knock against the stall. "Is that you, Dexter?" It was Mr. Greer. "Better hurry up. The bell is about to ring." "Ok, will do" Dexter responded in a baritone voice that he could still not accept was his own. He turned off the water, dried himself quickly, and then set to dressing in the clothes he had walked in here wearing. It proved much more difficult than he had anticipated. The previously oversized sweatshirt barely fit over his bulging shoulders, pecs, and arms. His pants were even worse. His cock did not want to fully deflate, on top of which he was having a tough time pulling the pant legs over his quads. The fact that his skin was not fully dry only made things worse. The bell rang just as he finally finished dressing. He burst from the stall to find Mr. Greer waiting for him. Dexter found he was looking down at Mr. Greer's eyes. They both seemed taken aback. "Alright, Dex, better make your way to lunch. You don't want to be caught in the halls." "I'll head straight there, Mr. Greer", Dexter responded in his deepening voice. "You really seem to have an aptitude for lifting, Dex" Mr. Greer said, subtly scanning Dexter from head to toe. "You may want to consider a career in the fitness industry." Dexter looked down at himself, conscious of the way his previously baggy sweatshirt was now stretched over his upper body. "Thanks, Mr. Greer. Maybe I will." Dexter suddenly realized he was starving. He practically ran to the lunchroom. Jed thought he felt people's eyes following him as he walked the halls. He reached his locker. No Cindy. He threw his gym clothes inside and headed towards the cafeteria, bracing himself for what he might find there. Sure enough, Cindy was there. She was already seated at a table with food surrounded by her friends. The sight of her stopped Jed in his tracks. She and he locked eyes for half a heartbeat, then she looked away. Her friends noticed Jed and proceeded to huddle around Cindy like they were protecting her from an attacker. Jed was blocking an entrance to the cafeteria and people started pushing around him. He thought he heard Dexter's name floating amongst the chatter in the hallway behind him. "...you seen Dexter today?... huge!... ripped his shirt..." Jed spotted a couple of his friends in line for food. They ended up at their usual table. His friends were peppering him with questions, not just about Cindy, but also Dexter. They heard about gym class. Jed wouldn't say anything. Cindy, only at the far end of the next table over wouldn't even look in his direction. Finally, she did look towards him, but not at him. She was looking past him to the entrance to the cafeteria. Dexter was entering the room, eyes on the floor, almost jogging towards the line for food. The line was short by the time Dexter got there. He kept grabbing food, plate after plate of it, piled precariously high on his tray. It looked like at least three helpings of everything. He threw some money at the cashier then hurried off to his corner table with a handful of other misfits. They might have said a few words to him, but Dexter tore into his food shoveling mouthful after mouthful into his mouth. Jed wasn't sure why, but it was making him anxious watching Dexter wolf down all that food. Bite after bite after bite. Jed looked down at his own barely eaten plate of food and suddenly realized he had no appetite. His anxiety grew into something closer to abstract fear as he watched Dexter spend the next half hour shoveling plate after plate of food into his mouth, his jaw muscles working efficiently and furiously. People started filing out. Lunch was almost over. The entire senior class had to meet in the assembly room for a presentation about graduation. Jed's friends got up to leave and he followed them. As he was exiting the cafeteria, he looked back to see Dexter finishing his lunch by chugging an entire bottle of water in one unbroken gulp. Food! Every step towards the cafeteria caused Dexter's hunger to increase. It reached an overwhelming crescendo just as he reached the front of the cafeteria line. Everything looked so good, and he was so hungry. He piled so much food on his tray, he wasn't sure how much was there. He just hoped it would be enough. The cashier charged him for three full meals, a price Dexter gladly paid. He raced to his corner table where he and the other unpopular kids ate together. They might not be all friends, but they were at least friendly to each other. Not that any of that mattered to Dexter in the current moment. All he wanted to do was eat this food, which he did as soon as he took his seat. For the next half hour, all he could think about was shoveling the food down his throat. He had never been so hungry! He was used to his workouts increasing his appetite, but this was more than he had ever experienced. His body wanted every bite, every morsel of food that he had taken - three Salisbury steaks, a mountain of mashed potato, and piles of steamed vegetables. All of it was overcooked, but he didn't care. His body craved it. When he was finally finished, he up-ended his bottle of water and drank it all down. Dexter realized the rest of the kids at his table were staring at him. The expressions on their faces were somewhat inscrutable. The girls were looking at him in a way that confused Dexter. "What? I was hun..." His voice cracked again. "I was hungry", he finished in what might have been an even deeper version of his voice. "Obviously" one of the guys said. "Well, you've got muscles to feed" one of the girls started, "or so we've... heard." Her eyes were glued to Dexter's chest. "What?" Dexter said, suddenly feeling drowsy. "I've gotta go. We've got an assembly." "Did his voice always sound like that?" he thought he heard a girl ask as Dexter rose from the table, leaving his tray and stack of plates behind, and made his way towards the assembly room. The halls were a blur. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was sleep. Also, his sweatshirt was too tight. It was catching under his armpits and at his chest and he could feel it squeezing his upper arms. He flexed his biceps watching as the peak stretched the sweatshirt to its limit. He finally made it to the assembly room, which was more than half full by the time he got there. There were empty seats up front. He took one near the corner where it was darkest, propped his head on his hand, and melted into sleep. Jed spotted Cindy seated near the middle of the assembly room, flanked by her friends on either side. The seats behind her were empty. Jed pushed his way through the crowd of students and took the seat directly behind her. A few of Jed's friends filtered in his row after him. From this angle, Jed had a perfect view of Cindy's amazing tits jutting almost arrogantly from her chest. She was wearing a tiny top that hugged her fit body in all the right ways. Several inches of well-toned abs were exposed above her tight jeans. She had no right to ignore him. Jed leaned forward and started to say, "You can't ignore me, you..." but before could get it out, Cindy leapt from her seat and stepping over her friends moved almost to the end of her row as far as she could quickly get from Jed. Jed was considering stepping over his friends to get to her when he saw Dexter walk down the far aisle. He passed by Cindy and took a seat near the front, not far from her. Jed watched as Dexter sat and quickly passed out. Jed also noticed two other things. One, he noticed that Dexter's shoulders were a lot wider than his seat back. Two, he noticed that Cindy was also watching Dexter. In fact, she was staring. She was erect in her seat, back arched, stretching to get a better view. Her chest was heaving slightly, her breasts silhouetted in prominent display. Jed was vaguely aware that the assembly presentations had begun. As they droned, the minutes dragged on and on and on. Cindy barely looked away from Dexter. When she did, it appeared as if she was forcing her eyes forward like she was fighting with herself to look away. Each time she did, within moments she was back staring at Dexter. She never once looked back at Jed. Who the fuck did she think she was? She could not treat him this way. Dexter slept through the entire assembly. He shifted every few minutes, the stadium style seating not designed for comfortable sleep. With each repositioning, Jed thought Dexter looked less comfortable, not more, like his body was struggling to fit inside a space too small for it. Dexter stretched in his sleep reaching his arms upward. Jed noticed that there was exposed wrist between the end of Dexter's sweatshirt sleeves and his hands. The assembly proceeded tortuously, Jed's gaze alternating between Dexter and Cindy. Finally, the assembly was over, and the bell rang. Dexter did not stir. Cindy did, the bell seeming to wake her from a reverie. She finally did look back at Jed. Anxiety spread over her previously serene expression. She jumped from her seat and made swiftly for the doors at the back of the assembly room. This time, Jed did step over his friends to follow her. Shoving his way through the crowd, he caught her in the hall outside. Furious, he grabbed her arm and spun her around. She was panting, her breasts rising and falling with each respiration. Her trim abs, tones arms, and shapely athletic legs were evident even through her jeans. Jed's voice caught in his throat for a moment, but he mastered himself and practically yelled, "What the fuck, Cindy? You can't treat me like this. Who the fuck do you think you are??" She did not say a word but glared at him. Suddenly, her eyes widened. She looked past and over Jed, her expression changing from one of anger to one of amazement. Jed felt something behind him. Without looking, he felt he knew what -- who -- it was. Dexter woke slowly from what was a pleasant dreamless slumber. His body felt relaxed. He stood to stretch, bumping his knees on the seat on front of him. Like earlier today, his visual perspective went up and up, past where it was yesterday, still up, past where it was this morning, still up, past even where it was when he fell asleep! He reached for a full stretch and was conscious of his sweatshirt riding up his mid-section, his hands stretching past the ends of the sleeves. He felt cool air around his ankles and looking down noted that his pants did not reach his shoes. His jeans, formerly baggy, were stretched over his calves and even more so over his thighs. Neither his jeans nor sweatshirt were tight at his waist, but when he lowered his arms, he felt the sweatshirt bunch around his chest leaving most of his med-section exposed. He pulled the sweatshirt down and found it would not reach his waist. In fact, it could barely contain his upper body, the globes of his shoulders, twin domes of his pecs, and thick full lats all strained against the nearly over-matched fabric of the sweatshirt. Dexter flexed slightly watched his pecs dance, the sweatshirt clinging to them in a way not wholly different from how Cindy's top clung to her breasts. Dexter was suddenly aware that his cock felt constricted. He looked down and beheld a truly massive bulge at his crotch on obscene display despite his jeans. Dexter looked around and noticed the last of the class leaving the assembly room. They all looked smaller. Everything looked smaller. He followed them outside to find a crowd of students huddled around something. He continued to stride forward and was surprised that the people in his path, when they noticed him, looked at him, looked up at him, and moved quickly out of his way. Dexter found himself walking up behind Jed who seemed to be in an altercation with a furious looking Cindy. As Dexter approached, Cindy locked eyes with him, her expression changing instantly from one of fury to one of eagerness. As he got closer, Dexter realized he was taller than Jed now. Dexter closed the gap coming within inches of Jed, able to look completely over Jed's head to Cindy and the gawking crowd beyond. Jed turned around and found himself staring at what had become his worst nightmare -- Dexter. His eyes were level with Dexter's mouth. Jed's chin was practically resting on a shelf of pec muscle that was so big and perfectly formed as to be almost inhuman. It rose and fell with each of Dexter's slow calm breaths. When Dexter spoke, Jed knew his life was changed forever. "Leaver Cindy alone, Jed." Dexter said in a deep confident voice, which reverberated in Jed's own chest nearly knocking the wind out of him. Dexter was huge! Neither his sweatshirt nor his jeans could hide the protruding muscles beneath. His sleeves, stretched over his muscled arms, did not reach his hands. The gap between Dexter's sweatshirt and jeans revealed inches of muscled abs. Dexter's jeans struggled to contain the immense bulges of Dexter's quads and the obscene bulge at his crotch. Jed, struggling with a growing abject terror, thought that with each breath, Dexter grew a bit more. Soon, his clothes would split revealing a horrifically muscled body. Jed became frantic. His fight instinct kicked in. He panted a foot behind himself, then thrust off it to tackle Dexter to the floor. The collision may have hurt Jed more than it hurt Dexter! Dexter's mid-section was hard as a rock! Whether Dexter was surprised by the attack or simply did not care, Dexter went down with Jed on top of him in a classic school-boy pin, straddling Dexter with his hands on Dexter's wrists to trap his arms. "Fuck you, Dexter! You stay away from us!" There was a brief moment of silence. "Fuck me?" Dexter responded. A smile crept over his face. "Fuck me?" Dexter slowly bent his arms in a double bicep flex. Jed tried to stop him, but found he was easily overpowered. Dexter barely seemed to notice Jed's strained effort. Dexter's upper arms expanded, his bicep peaks pushing against the fabric of his sweatshirt. Halfway through the flex, his sweatshirt began to rip over his emerging biceps. "Fuck me? No Jed." Dexter completed his flex, the entirety of his biceps ripping into view. They were massive and defined with peaks that jutted so high they met with Dexter's mid-forearms at full flex. The sleeves of Dexter's sweatshirt were in tatters. "Fuck you!" Dexter exclaimed as he flipped Jed over as easily as an older brother might toy with a younger sibling, reversing the school-boy pin leaving Dexter on top and Jed on the bottom. "Fuck you, Jed!" Then Dexter's expression changed, a pleasure seeming to wash over it, his eyes rolling back, his eyelids fluttering. Holy Fuck, Dexter was so much stronger than Jed! Jed couldn't do anything to stop him! Jed's pathetic attempt to stop Dexter's bicep flex was barely even noticed! Then, he flipped Jed over like it was nothing! Dexter looked down at Jed cowering beneath him, Dexter's hugely muscled arms flexing and swelling as they held Jed easily and firmly in place. Dexter knew his weight was more than enough to keep Jed's waist pinned to the floor. Dexter could feel the violent bulge of his massive cock pressing into Jed's comparatively soft and yielding stomach. Dexter was so fucking strong! It felt so fucking good! Dexter's cock started to expand, his bulge pressing deeply into Jed's stomach, which yielded before it. Dexter was getting hard, and he didn't even care. His cock bulged more deeply into Jed's stomach. Dexter's cock grew and lengthened, stretching his underwear to its limit. Dexter heard a ripping sound and felt his cock thrust through his underwear and snake down his leg, inexorably making room for itself between Dexter's massive quadricep and Jed's waist. It grew and grew and grew. Dexter was lost in the pleasure of it. He did not even notice the look of abject horror that spread across Jed's face or Jed's frantic attempts to escape. Without realizing it, Dexter began thrusting himself against Jed sending waves of pleasure throughout Dexter's own body. Jed felt something pressing into his stomach and looked down to see Dexter's massive bulge, pressed against him, growing obscenely. Vainly struggling to escape, Jed watched in horror as Dexter's bulge grew and grew. Jed heard the ripping sound of Dexter's underwear and felt Dexter's massive penis expand against his waist. Then, Dexter started thrusting against him! "Get off me! Get off me!!" Jed screamed, flailing violently in a desperate attempt to escape, whose only effect was causing Dexter's pec and arm muscles to flex and bulge as they easily hold Jed in place. Dexter kept thrusting. Jed was about to scream again when Cindy suddenly appeared alongside Dexter. Dexter was snapped to consciousness by a gentle touch on his shoulder and the scent of perfume reaching his nose. Dexter's head whipped to his side to see Cindy crouching beside him, one hand on his shoulder. Her breasts were heaving. A tiny bead of sweat rolled down her neck, then gathering speed, plunged between her more than ample breasts. "Dexter", she said breathlessly. Dexter's eyes were drawn to her nipples, which were suddenly very visible beneath her thin clothing, "Leave him. Let's get out of here. C'mon. Let's go!" Dexter looked down at Jed, who looked absolutely terrified. His eyes were darting from Dexter to Cindy and back. Dexter had Jed by the wrists. Dexter squeezed. His forearms, biceps, and triceps bulged incredibly, his corded forearm muscles, peaked biceps, and striated triceps standing out in bold relief. Jed squealed in pain. Cindy pulled on Dexter's shoulder, and he let her drag him to his feet. She took his hand and led Dexter swiftly down the hall and out the main entrance of the school. Nobody tried to stop them. She ran straight for her car motioning for Dexter to get in the passenger seat. It was a tight fit. Dexter's head nearly brushed up against the roof. Cindy started the car and sped away. She drove out to the main road and followed it for just a minute to the parking lot of a local church, which was unused at this time of day. She pulled around back where there was some relative privacy, shut off the car, and turned to face Dexter. She was panting slightly, her unbelievable breasts, barely contained by her top which seemed painted on, filled Dexter's vision. "Dexter", she said, "You stood up to Jed to protect me." "Of course, I did", Dexter responded in his new baritone, "I would do anything for you." She leapt at him, and they proceeded to devour each other in an overwhelming fit of passion. Dexter had never kissed like this before. Their hands and lips and tongues were all over each other. A metallic creak drew their attention to Dexter's cock, which had just surged, destroying the zipper of his jeans. "Holy fuck" Cindy exclaimed and then ripped Dexter's jeans open in one motion. She extricated Dexter's hardening cock from his tattered underwear and held it as it grew, lengthening and thickening and lengthening inch by inch until it stood straight up, erect, nearly a foot long and still growing. "Oh my god", she breathed as she leaned forward and plunged Dexter's massive erection into her mouth. The moment her lips touched his cock, Dexter experienced a feeling he never had before. Cindy moaned scandalously as she slurped furiously at his dick. It barely fit inside her mouth, but she forced her head downward until Dexter's cock was thrust down her throat. Dexter would have cum instantly had he not done so twice already since he arrived at school. Cindy's head bobbed up and down, Dexter's cock continuing to swell. At the top of each motion, Cindy's head was a fraction higher until Dexter's cock had, reaching its full height and girth, lengthened by inches and become so thick it was impossibly tight inside Cindy's hungry moaning mouth. Cinder broke from Dexter and set to desperately ripping her clothes off. In the blink of an eye, she was out of her top. Her breasts finally set free appeared to float in midair. Her nipples were as erect as Dexter's penis and were every bit as impressive. She then quickly but with some difficulty peeled off her jeans, which caught on her shapely athletic thighs. Her panties came off as well, exposing her trimmed pussy, the inviting smell of which immediately wafted to Dexter's nose. In one graceful movement, she straddled Dexter. With each hand, she grabbed a handful of Dexter's tattered sweatshirt and ripped it fully apart exposing Dexter's insanely muscled torso. She then thrust her boob in Dexter's face. Instinctively, Dexter took her erect nipple in his mouth and sucked. Cindy released a full-throated moan of pleasure as her nipple expanded to full prominence wrapped in the warmth of Dexter's lips. She positioned her now dripping pussy against the head of Dexter's tremendous cock. She paused for just a moment, then thrust herself downward, and Dexter was inside of her. Cindy's second full-throated moan was joined by an equally full-throated, but much deeper one, from Dexter. Dexter's grips on Jed's wrists were like vices. Then he squeezed sending lancing pain through Jed's arms. The cry of pain escaped Jed's lips involuntarily. He thought his bones may have snapped. Then Dexter was gone, being led down the hallway by Cindy. Half the crowd was watching them go, while the other half looked down at Jed with a mixture of pity and horror. The only thing Jed knew was that he needed to get out of there. Now knowing where else to go, he leapt up and raced after Dexter and Cindy. He burst from the main entrance just as Cindy was closing the door of her car behind her. He could see Dexter's massive bulk in the passenger seat. Like he was caught in a nightmare, Jed ran to his car, jumped inside, and raced after Cindy and Dexter to the church parking lot. They did not notice him pull up nearby. He saw everything. He saw Cindy and Dexter kissing passionately. He saw Cindy rip off Dexter's clothing and her own. He saw her bury her head in Dexter's lap, her head momentarily disappearing, then bobbing into view, up and down, higher each time, until at the low point of her motion it almost looked from Jed's vantage point like she was kissing the rim of the car door, then bobbing upward revealing inch after inch of Dexter's massive cock visible over the door's rim. Jed's jaw dropped as Cindy, in one graceful maneuver, positioned herself over Dexter's erect penis and then thrust herself downward, taking all of it inside herself. The next five minutes were filled with the most furious sex Jed had ever beheld. They fucked like wild animals to the soundtrack of Cindy's melodious moans and Dexter's terrifying deep ones. The two of them completely filled the passenger seat of Cindy's car, which was bouncing up and down with the dangerous fury of a streetcar that has careened off-road at full speed. Cindy and Dexter were bracing themselves with their hands against the car door and ceiling. Amidst their moans and grunts and the squealing of the car's shocks and brakes, Jed thought he heard the creaking of metal. He thought he saw the roof of the car and the passenger door buckle outward where Cindy and Dexter were bracing themselves. After the most interminable five minutes of Jed's life, Cindy and Dexter came together, the pair of them roaring in unison for almost another minute. Finally, it was over. Cindy collapsed on Dexter's massive, muscled form, their panting subsiding into the deep slow breathing reserved for those who have just experienced ultimate physical bliss. Jed, overwhelmed, broke into tears, turned his car around, and sped away, sobbing...

A little something based on a news story from a few years ago: https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2018/feb/16/us-tourist-punched-police-officer-at-buckingham-palace AN AMERICAN IN LONDON Matt had been an officer in the Metropolitan Police for three years, but he reckoned the most boring patrol was Buckingham Palace. Nothing but tourists taking selfies; it was just about the easiest shift in the job. Today they were expecting a convoy for some Royal. Matt didn’t care about the details. He just had to make sure the barriers were clear. “Yo Matt!” said his colleague Rob as they crossed paths. “Any weekend plans?” “Hitting the gym tonight,” said Matt. “Chest day.” And he squeezed his pecs together. “Have to say man,” said Rob, “looking fucking swole these days!” He looked jealously at Matt’s 18 inch guns. At 6ft even, Matt was a solid 225lbs of jacked muscle. In his uniform he was pretty scary: shirt pulled tight around a big chest which balanced out his big arms; traps merging into a thick neck; impressive lats which made his arms stick out slightly for that big-man strut. Out of uniform, it was clear he was serious about bodybuilding: big full pecs hung over a solid six pack; huge quads with impressive sweep and detail which finished off the X shape. Rob glanced around him before sidling up closer to Matt. “Hey man,” he said under his breath, “you know, if you're on gear…it’s cool. Seriously, it’s cool, man! Maybe…”, and Rob lowered his voice even more, “maybe you could hook me up, bro?” “Ha!” said Matt, “All natural dude!”, and he bounced his heavy pecs under his shirt as he moved on. He’d jumped on the juice six months ago, and since then he’d exploded. But he wasn't going to tell Rob that. Rob was his mate, they’d had a few gym sessions together, but you couldn't be too careful when you were on the force. The minutes ticked by. Matt felt like he had an itch he couldn’t scratch: here he was, psyched up for his session that night, all this pent-up aggression inside him, and no way to use it. Just a bit of action, that’s all he wanted: a lad getting a bit lairy with the Palace guards, that would do it. Just a chance to flex some muscle. Just then, Matt sensed a disturbance in the crowd. Hand immediately on his taser, he looked over to where a group of Australians had been taking pictures. Pushing his way through them was the biggest man Matt had ever seen. He must have been at least 6’6” but his height was the least special thing about him: the guy was jacked. Like, beyond jacked. He was wearing a cheap t-shirt with some band on the front. The arms strained over guns that must have measured at least 23 inches, Matt thought. As the man pushed his way through the crowd Matt got a clear view of him. Jesus, he was built like a fucking colossus! He was about 50 foot away from Matt, but Matt could feel his density. He knew that this man was as powerful as the biggest guys in his bodybuilding gym. There was something off about the way the man was walking, and Matt could tell instantly that he was seriously drunk. Christ, thought Matt, what could a fucker like that have been drinking to get so pissed? The dude’s built like a brick shithouse. The guy was making his way over to one of the Palace guards, right next to where the barriers had been set up in preparation for the Royal convoy. Matt could see that his colleague Rob had clocked him and was stealthily moving towards him in case of trouble. Oblivious, the man continued his drunken swagger over to the guard. Now he was standing right in front of the guard, so close that Matt could see the guard shuffling a couple of steps backwards, clearly intimidated. The guy made him look a total wimp. With his sideways view Matt could see the thickness of the giant’s physique, the huge capped delts and the thick lats jutting out under the thin material of the tee. Matt felt a rush of envy. This guy was fucking goals. “Hey dude!” the guy slurred, looking down at the guard. Matt noticed an American accent. “Cool hat, bro!” And he laughed the too-loud laugh of the man off his face and not in full control of his body. “Wanna…wanna lemme try it on?” The guard wasn’t a small guy – about six foot, more fit than jacked – but he quivered before the huge guy. The giant made a move towards the guard, as if to grab the hat. “Armed police, stand still!” As soon as it looked like the guy was about to get aggressive, Rob jumped into action. Matt watched as Rob pointed his taser at the beast in front of him. Rob was a bit of a powerhouse himself, but he wasn't risking anything when dealing with this muscle freak. The man stopped what he was doing turned his head towards Rob. “Now back away slowly sir,” shouted Rob, taser still poised. Adrenaline pumped through his body and he could fee his heart thumping beneath his thick chest. Yeah, it was on. But instead of backing away, the man started moving towards Rob. As Rob registered the situation, the adrenaline rush gave way to cold terror. He stood rooted to the spot, watching the fabric of the man’s tee jump and twitch. He was bouncing his pecs as he came for Rob. Jesus, how big were those fucking things under there? “Hey man! You're a cop, right? A little British cop! That's cool man!” Rob backed away as the man staggered menacingly towards him. Little! Rob was fucking packed with muscle! Ok, he wasn’t a freak like this guy… Rob was still trying to process the sheer size of the man in front of him. He, Rob, was big. He knew that. He did know it. So why did he feel small and weak? Why did he automatically back away as the guy moved towards him? Oh Jesus. In a man-to-man fight with this guy, how long would Rob last? Oh shit. Next to this guy Rob was less than little. Fuck, next to his buddy Matt Rob was a little man, and this guy made even Matt look like a fucking shrimp! Rob kept the taser pointed at the man, but he was now in panic mode. “A little British cop! Hey, little British cop man, know any cool jokes?!” He was practically on top of Rob at this point. “Stay where you are!” Rob shouted again, sweat darkening his shirt around the pits. But the man just smirked, and took another step to square up in front of Rob. Rob was hit by a powerful scent of sweat and muscle coming off the beast in front of him. Whether it was fear or jealousy for the man’s size, something exploded in Rob’s brain. He fired his taser. The electrified prongs buried themselves in the mountain’s thick chest. By now Officer Matt had caught up with Rob. Immediately seeing Rob had discharged his taser, Matt prepared to cuff the muscle monster as soon as he was debilitated and had fallen to the floor. Except the freak was still standing! Matt couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The beast let out a deep grunt as he was hit by the taser’s intense voltage. All his muscles flexed, and Matt fleetingly felt a grudging respect as the superb build of the dude really popped even better under the pressure. Amazingly, he was withstanding the pain! How the fuck was that even possible? The dude must have balls of steel! Incredibly, the beast began to move his huge arm, lifting a massive hand towards the taser wires in his chest. How the fuck could he be doing that? Matt fired his own taser, which landed in the guy’s abdominals this time. Instead of a grunt the beast let out a bellow so loud that Matt felt it in his gut. As he bellowed he clenched his fists and his arms balled up into the biggest, veiniest balls of arm muscle Matt had ever seen. But still the big man didn't go down. After bearing the pain for a few seconds he once more made a move to rip out the tasers from his mighty upper body. Rob and Matt holding the ends of the weapons stood transfixed by the power of the monster in front of them as he tore out the taser prongs with a roar. “Fuck yeah!” he roared, and threw up his arms into a massive double bi, chin thrust out as he cockily turned his head between each peak. And then with his eyes fixed on Matt’s, he grabbed his own shirt by the collar with a single huge hand and ripped it off his body. He bounced his pecs as he watched Matt – Matt the muscle man, Matt the amateur bodybuilder – eye up his superior physique. The pecs were huge slabs of muscle, the upper pecs the fullest Matt had ever seen, creating a deep fissure between the chest muscles. The square lower pecs were thicker still and finished off with two large dark nipples. The beast’s eight-pack was powerfully defined, but there was nothing emaciated about the guy’s look. He looked full and dense. His cannonball delts exploded from his shoulders, but they did nothing to hide the immense size and weight of the guy’s arms: biceps thick and veiny with muscle; triceps bulging out the back of the arm. His wide lats were thick and meaty. Matt wanted to grab a handful to see what they felt like. Huge traps and a column of muscle for a neck gave the beast a brutal, caveman energy. Fuck, this dude made Matt look like a little fitness pretty boy! Then things started happening very quickly. The beast had forgotten all about Rob, but now focused all his attention on Matt. He rounded on the bigger cop, rolling his massive shoulders. Matt’s police training kicked in, and he automatically reached for his baton. But before he could pull it out the muscle monster grabbed Matt’s 18-inch arm, stopping it dead. For a drunk man he was fucking quick! With his big mitt around Matt’s biceps, he squeezed. Matt cried out in pain as he felt his big gun get compacted by strength much greater than his own. He dropped the baton and it rolled away. The big man balled up his free hand into a fist and jack-hammered it into Matt’s gut three times before releasing the officer from his hold. Matt felt like he’d been hit by a tanker. He crumpled to the floor, winded by the force he’d felt through his bullet-proof vest. As soon as the muscle beast’s attention had switched to Matt, Rob had made a retreat. He immediately radioed for back-up. He felt ashamed that he’d been so easily dominated by a bigger, better man. One pissed-up American roider was all it had taken to trounce two of the biggest guys in the London force. Rob tried to get his head around it: He trained hard at least five days a week without fail; in his normal life he felt like a big, powerful man. But when it came down to it, he was nothing. He was a weak, fucking pussy. He was nowhere near the level of this beast of a man. The fucking chest on the guy! The fucking legs! So much insane density! No matter how hard he worked, Rob knew he’d never be in the big boy leagues. He heard the back-up sirens in the distance. He’d failed; failed as a cop, failed as a man. And he deserved it. Rob knew the experience would change him forever. Matt lay on the floor, hunched over his battered gut. Where the fuck was Rob? The monster was standing over him, taunting him. “What the fuck man, I barely touched ya! Jesus, are all you British dudes such fuckin’ pussies? Come on man, get up, show us what you can do!” Matt looked up from where he lay at the huge beast standing over him. Matt could see the massive overhang of the guy’s chest. The thickness was unbelievable, how much could the guy bench – 450lbs? 500? Why the hell was Matt thinking that?! But he couldn’t help it. The guy had Matt’s ideal physique – it was everything he wanted, it was the reason he trained every day, sometimes twice a day, vomited during leg day, pumped his body with Dbol and test and tren. And he was still nowhere near reaching it. And here was some tanked up Yank, with the physique of a fucking Greek god. Matt collapsed to the floor again, humiliated in his defeat. But the big man wasn’t having it. “I said, get up.” His voice was meaner, and more dangerous. Matt slowly got up on all fours, alternately dry-heaving and taking in big gulps of air as he tried to get his breath back. Too slow for the big Yank, who grabbed Matt’s shirt by the back of the neck and dragged him to his feet. Matt stood swaying on his feet in front of the beast. “Let’s see what you got then bro!” said the beast, looking over Matt’s physique. He smiled to himself. He recognised a fellow brother-in-iron when he saw one. “Hey, not bad man! You got some decent size on ya!” Even while he struggled to recover his breath, Matt still felt a twinge of pride that a specimen like this was complimenting his own build. Then he looked over the massive meat of the beast’s upper arms, and his 18 inch guns felt like fucking twigs again. The beast took a step back. “Now, hit me bro!” He held out his arms, leaving his torso completely open. Fuck, Matt wanted to do it so badly! He wanted to see how strong this absolute unit really was. But his professional instincts took over. He reached for his baton. Shit, he’d dropped it earlier. He reached for his handcuffs instead. He spoke, loudly and clearly: “Sir, back-up is on its way, if you just come quietly no one will get hurt.” His heart was pounding as he fumbled for the cuffs. “Now, put your hands on your……” “You shit-for-brains or what? I’m gonna fuck you up either way, dude, so just, fucking, HIT ME!” And the big Yank lurched forwards, still with his arms out and his torso exposed. Instinctively Matt stopped reaching for the cuffs and landed a colossal fist right in the man’s gut. Oh, fuck!! Pain radiated up Matt’s arm as his fist hit the man’s eight-pack. Oh, shit!! How can any man be as fucking strong as that?! He began to shake out his hand to ease the pain, but the man was on him. “Fuck yeah! These things ain’t just for show!” And he flexed his abs and cockily strummed his fingers across them, showboating his superior shape before the smaller muscle cop. “Again! Hit me again! Come ON!” And before he knew he’d done it Matt landed another hit, this time to the beast’s jaw. The big man’s head turned to one side with the impact before slowly turning back to Matt. In disbelief, Matt struck again from the other side. The beast’s thick neck twisted, but again returned slowly to its starting point. Jesus Christ! What was this fucker made from? Matt had taken boxing classes before making the switch to bodybuilding, and knew how to deliver a textbook punch. Nothing else would do now: this strike would have to finish it. His huge arms flexed to the max, he launched a devastating right, generating power from the shoulder and aiming to follow right through this freak’s solar plexus. But the big man was done playing. He caught Matt’s fist with a dull thump. Then slowly, he squeezed down on it. Oh fuck!! Matt didn’t even know a human could have a grip like that. He thought he was going to pass out from the pain. The beast started laughing as he overpowered the cop with one hand. He lifted his spare arm slowly into a single biceps flex. Despite the pain, Matt watched the colossal muscle grow. How big was that thing? How did it keep getting bigger?! So hard! How was that much size and vascularity possible?! The beast flexed his cannonball arm directly in Matt’s face, still laughing at the little muscle cop. “Yeah man! This is muscle Murica-style! USA!” He mashed Matt’s face into the bigger muscle and then down into his monstrous hairy pit, forcing him to inhale his salty man smell. Fuck, even the dude’s smell made Matt feel small. So fucking big! So fucking strong! It didn’t….. How could….. How was it…….. Matt peed himself. The big guy on the force, the amateur bodybuilder. A fucking weakling. Afterwards, Matt was told he’d passed out. Back-up had arrived and managed to bring the man down. He was arrested, went to court and got an eight-week suspended sentence. He was asked to pay Matt and Rob £200 each in compensation. Matt refused his. SIX MONTHS LATER The Zoom connection was a bit shaky, but seemed to have stabilised now. Matt stood in front of his laptop in his kitchen, hands on his hips, sweating and breathing deeply. He was wearing nothing except briefs which he’d hitched up to uncover his impressive quads. A voice from the laptop said “Now, go again.” Matt didn’t move for a few seconds, looking down at the floor as he continued to take deep breaths, his cut abs heaving in and out. The voice spoke again: “Stop fucking around man, let’s go! Front double bi, now!” Matt took one last deep breath and faced the camera, carefully planted his feet, rose his arms above him and pulled them down into a massive double bi. “Really squeeze. Don’t bring them so far forward.” Matt made the corrections, his arms shaking from the flex. Another drip of sweat rolled down his face. His arms measured at just over 20 inches. A massive improvement, but not enough. “Ok, front lat spread, let’s go!” Matt adjusted his stance, hitched up his arms and unfurled his colossal lats. His lat development had surpassed even his biceps. But still too small. “Ok, not bad. Now, side chest!” Matt carried on through the mandatories. It was the fourth time he’d done them that afternoon, and the sweat was pouring off him. “Ok, take a breather,” said the voice. Matt pulled up a stool and sat in front of the laptop so he could speak to his new coach. The Big Yank, The Beast, had been Matt’s coach for about six months now. Ever since that encounter six months ago Matt had been a different man. He thought he knew what power was before, but meeting the Beast had changed that forever. He knew he would never be happy until he had pushed his body beyond anything he’d previously thought possible, until he’d achieved something at least in the same sort of league as the Beast. While the Beast was in custody Matt had paid him a visit. “I wanna be like you,” he’d said. “Tell we what I have to do, and I’ll do it.” A week or so later, before the Beast flew back to America, he’d gone for a training session with Matt to see what the cop could do. After the biggest chest session of Matt’s life and a flex-off in the posing room, the Beast had agreed to take him on as a client. “But you gotta commit 100%. This has gotta be your life now. Ok?” Matt quit the force the next day. He got a job in a gym, started an Instagram and an Only Fans to help pay for all the juice he would need to take if he was going to play with the big boys. And he trained. He trained with the biggest lads in the gym, and worked so hard he got a reputation as the maddest, hardest worker in the place. He logged all his workouts with his coach, and they checked in every few days for a physique update. The Beast designed his training split, his nutrition plan, and his cycles. And Matt had fucking grown: 275lbs at 6 foot, an absolute monster. But still not big enough. And now, Matt had just finished another check-in with his coach. “Ok, decent progress,” said the Beast. “But the delts are overpowering the chest. You need to get your upper pecs up some. No fucking slacking, man! You need to keep pushing!” “Yeah, I know man, sorry,” said Matt, sheepishly. He scratched his thick pec which twitched with size. “We’ll get you back on track next week little dude. When are you arriving?” “Tuesday, 11am.” “Cool, see you then. Better say bye-bye to those baby muscles bro, cos by the time we’re done you’re going to be fucking next-level!” Matt was flying over to stay with the Beast. Nothing but food and lifting for a whole month. It was going to be awesome. He couldn’t wait. And maybe – if it went well – he could stay over there permanently. Every session being the session of a lifetime. Coach pushing him beyond anything he thought was humanly achievable. Spending every minute of his life just doing what Coach tells him to do. Matt flexed his right arm into a single biceps. It was huge. He smiled: He was going to make this look fucking puny.

Hey there! It’s been a while. Just got a little short one for you! Oh and I’ve been building together a story archive on my Patreon for those of you interested. With stories included from my all 9,000+ usernames (musclegod300, teenmusclegod, soccerstud88, etc...) Enjoy! TWIN DEVIL “God damn, bro... Why am I growing so much bigger than you!?” Joseph, boasted in front of his twin brother, Alex. Flexing his hugely eclipsing bicep. High above their small gawking heads. A whopping 20-INCHES now! Not just one-inch bigger… not just two-inches bigger, but THREE whole inches BIGGER than his supposedly identical twin brother. “Just look at all this fucking muscle!” Joseph, chuckled with power. Even his voice was a little deeper. Rumbling Alex’s ear drums in its sultry resonance. “But you’re growing bigger than EVERYONE Joe!” Alex, whimpered a bit. Given the fact that they were barely 18-years old. Compared to everyone their age, Joe was a freakin monster. Besides their height, five-foot-eleven, he was the muscle alpha king of the school! With history breaking proportions. A size that most guys wouldn’t achieve until their college years. “Haha, that’s true… But you’re supposed to be my twin, right? I mean, what happened there?” Joseph, mocked a bit. Especially now that he was close to 25-pounds heavier. All muscles too! Alex swelled with envy, jealousy and confusion. His brother had always enjoyed working out more. And he had been trying just as hard at the gym. But the five extra pounds of muscle on Joe a few months back, quickly turned in 10-pounds. And then 10-pounds, into 15-pounds! And then once his brother started eating way more, lifting hugely bigger, it was simply all over. He just couldn’t seem to keep up! “Well, I’m trying as hard as I can!” Alex finally admitted. Practically whining at this point. Flexing his comparatively small 17-inch bicep. “We’re supposed to be identical...” And that’s when he really whimpered a bit. A line that, Joseph, was repeatedly beginning to love. “Haha, I guess not anymore, bro...” Joseph, chuckled. Really rubbing salt in the wound. “Like seriously, do you see anything identical about this!?” He continued and suddenly widening his stance, deploying his grossly huge wing-sized muscle lats! With a wider back, shoulders and chest. His huge spherical pecs pumping and swelling across his broad manly chest. His arrogant comment only seemed just that much more cemented. There wasn’t really anything identical about them at all anymore! Joseph's abs had been growing more chiseled, rippled, unbelievably powerful. With more heads of muscle then you could count. And his legs had turned into these testosterone raging powerhouses of skull crushing devastation, big as an APES. Twice the size of his brothers. Even his butt had grown to an unreal global horse crushing proportions. Big enough to snuff some girls face out. “Just imagine if I keep growing like this...” Joseph, relentlessly boasted. Tickling his own overflowing teenage ego. His wild imagination. “We won’t even look like brothers, let alone twins!” He chuckled powerfully. Finding it honestly hilarious. “Would you WANT that!?” Alex, squealed like some little girl. But his question went unanswered. As his literal twin devil flexed and posed. Relishing on his own fantastical changes. “I mean, my armpits are hairier than yours...” And then, Joseph, really hammered it in. “I’ve got more chest hair...” Lifting up his ready to burst bulging muscle-shirt. Showing off more and more of their dramatic comparisons. “And you won’t BELIEVE what else is growing…” Joseph, powerfully chuckled. Reaching for his zipper. Alex, just thought his brother was going to show off his freakishly growing diamond cut muscle thighs. Or maybe his super massive veiny bulging bodybuilder calves. But then as he pulled the zipper down, unbuckling his button, this huge white mound of brief fabric fell out from the zipper hole opening. “O-OH F-Fuck, JOE!” Alex, practically squealed. Watching this snake, an African python of a penis, with one huge gross gushing eye. The biggest cock-head and piss slit he had ever seen. Clearly painted on his nearly transparent tortured briefs. The same ones Alex was currently wearing. Joe, snickered sinisterly as he continued to pull down his jeans completely. Giving his big dick a couple ruthless pumps, right in front his brother. Almost dreaming about this moment. “Aw, yeah bro…” Joseph, groaned in deep lust. “You ever seen a dick this big?!” He proudly stroked himself a couple more times. Making himself bulge up a little. Just to give a real sense of its size. Leaving Alex absolutely frozen. They had seen each other naked so many times. More than you could count! But now it was like staring at another man entirely. Not even a relative, let alone a brother or twin. This unrecognizable monster penis among mortal men. At least a FOOT LONG! Thicker than a BEER can! Not just 2x, 3x, or even 4x bigger than Alex’s, but in a whole different league! “HOW is this POSSIBLE!!?” Alex really began to weep. With actual tears of envy in his eyes. His twin brother really was some sort of male muscle alpha predator! The truly superior twin. “Jesus, Joe... It’s like you’re going through some kind of growth spurt again!” Alex, suddenly stated. Seconds away from blubbering up from overwhelming envy. A line that he would instantly regret saying. As he watched a light bulb go off in his brother's head. “Haha! Fuck yeah!” Joseph, laughed. “A growth spurt!? That’s just what I NEED!!” And then he exclaimed. Unexpectedly loving the idea. “That means I would start growing everywhere!” He chuckled delightfully. Playing into his brothers outlandish words. His freakiest of fantasies. “Not just muscle... But I would grow taller!” Joseph, wildly grinned. Adding his own fantasies to the mix. Feeling his dick really began to bulge. “I’ve always wanted to be over 6-feet tall...” Joseph, happily admitted. “Y-YOU have!?“ Alex, squealed once more. “Well yeah! Haven’t you? I mean, we’re so close already! OR maybe 6-foot-five, Haha!” And yet his twin brother continued. With his dick throbbing, twisting and turning like some big snake. “All the way up to 7-FEET TALL!” Jospeh, roared shockingly. With his cock throbbing out of control! “O-Oh, g-god....... 7-FEET tall!? How could ANYONE want to grow SO BIG!?” Alex was absolutely baffled. Still weeping. As he watched his twin brothers raise his colossal 20-inch volcanic muscle arms, high above their heads. Displaying his future dream height. With his MUCH BIGGER cock suddenly springing the biggest leak against his briefs. “DEAL with it, BRO!” Gushing torrent after torrent of pre-cum. “I’m just clearly meant for BIGGER THINGS!” ***************** And then later that night... “Oh man... 7-feet tall...” Joseph, almost felt haunted by the impossible fantasy. Standing there in the bathroom mirror. All while brushing his teeth. Feeling his cock bulge and tingle again. All that blood surging just to fill his enormous member. As he thought about that rush of power he felt earlier... “I want it SO bad...” He groaned. Feeling his cock actually begin to leak. Fuck, he was so horny. “Alex, already looks like such a DWEEB!” And then he continued. Chuckling out loud. Drooling out some toothpaste as he fantasized. He just loved being bigger so much. “I wonder how small he’ll look in a few months...” He chuckled devilishly. As his dick really began to bloat up. 8-inches… 9-inches… 10-inches… Already straining his undersized briefs to their limits. “Or even in a few years!” Joseph, groaned with lust. With his cock reaching its full foot long pussy crushing power. As he imagined growing not just 40-pounds bigger, or even 50-pounds bigger... But 100-POUNDS BIGGER! “Unnghh, fuck. 100-POUNDS!? Why does this turn me on so much!?” Joseph, grunted. Feeling queer as fuck. Almost trying to control himself. But the level of power he felt was next level. He wasn’t just boning harder then he ever had before. But he was about to cum! Totally hands free! “And at 7-FEET TALL, Alex, would be standing no bigger than the TOP of my PECS!” His cock gushed and rumbled over the awesome idea. Harder and harder as if it was somehow making room to grow bigger. 12-inches… 13-inches… 14-inches! “ARGGH, and then I’d still want BIGGER! 8-FEET TALL! UNGGHHH!!” Joseph, roared. With his dick looking 15-INCHES! Causing his briefs to suddenly SNAP under the enormous pressure. “More and more and MORE until the little RUNT is staring at my belly button!!” Joseph, groaned in ecstasy. “With so much muscle and power I could lift a SEMI-TRUCK!” Tilting his neck back and letting his cock EXPLODE a fucking GALLON huge load of CUM all over his bathroom mirror. Rope after rope. His cock throbbed and throbbed. It just wouldn’t stop. Joseph could only laugh at his display of alpha manliness. “UNGH, yeah… I WANT it so BAD...” He grunted it sheer bliss. Finally squeezing out the last huge drop. Experiencing the biggest orgasm of his life. “Better get ready Alex…” END