Search the Community

Author's Note: Here's a new story after a long time of not writing. I hope to contribute more soon, but check out my commentary below. Please let me know any feedback if you have it. It's always helpful and inspires me to keep writing. TF starts after the *** Becoming A God - A Fight for the Power I pulled my pads off my shoulders and let the sweat shake off my hair. Another solid practice with the football team. My buddy Nick gave my ass a quick slap as he pulled his own T-shirt off, revealing his cut upper body as we headed into the locker room. “What's up Trevor?” he asked, opening the door for me as I headed in with the rest of the team. “Not many games left man,” I said as we worked our way toward our lockers. We were juniors at the local College, a small public school and played D-III. Nothing big, but it was something to keep us athletic as we went through college. The school was old and the facilities felt like something out of the 70s, but it was ours and I was enjoying keeping up the sport even if we knew none of us were going to go pro. “Yeah dude,” Nick said. “Only one year left after this.” He quickly slipped out of his cleats and football pants, drying the sweat off of his legs and compression shorts. “You gonna hit the showers here or run to dinner?” “I going to head back,” I said, peeling off my own compression shorts and giving my crotch a quick dry. “I need to hit the dining hall before dinner closes, I'll shower later tonight. Hey you want to study for Econ later?” “Sure thing,” Trevor said, getting naked and throwing a towel over his shoulder. “I gotta shower now though. Let me know when you're done or whatever I'll meet you at the library.” “By the way,” Nick added, “What happened to Chris? Did he quit the team?” Chris was my roommate, the guy was always quiet, and not particularly nice, but recently he closed himself off. Hardly talked to me or anyone else. “He said he needed to focus on grades. Yeah, I think he quit. But all I ever see him doing is working out. I don't know.” I said. I threw on my boxers and gym shorts and started the walk back. The evening air was cool, fall was closing to winter fast this year. I had a quick dinner and I worked my way toward my dorm and up to my room. I figured I'd get a shower in before studying Econ. I was going to move in with my other football buddies next year, Chris was getting way too weird for me to be friends. I told him he was cutting himself out from the world, he needed to get out more and be social. But lately the guy was just scaring me. He either lifted or was reading old books about gods and the occult. I wondered whether he was reaching a breaking point. I walked into my room and saw Chris at his desk chair, lifting a dumbbell and only wearing compression shorts and gym shorts. “Hey Chris,” I said. “What do you want?” he asked. “You still playing sports? All they did was drag me down, they're going to drag you down, too.” “Dragging me down from what?” I asked. “I enjoy it man, it's fun. It'd be fun if you stayed too.” “I have bigger plans,” Chris said cryptically, a small smile forming around his lips but he kept pumping the iron without looking up at me. I wanted to ask him what he was talking about but I didn't. He was being way too weird and I was afraid of whatever answer he might give me. I threw my clothes off quickly and set them in the hamper. I grabbed my towel and turned back around as I wrapped it around my waist. Chris had set down the dumbbell and was looking at something in his desk. There was a faint light glowing out of his drawerit. I wondered what it was. He quickly shut the drawer. “I am meeting Nick to study Econ later tonight.” I said. “I'm gonna hop in the shower first,” “I'll be waiting for you,” Chris said, turning back to his desk. I couldn't hold back anymore. “What the hell, man?” I demanded. “What is up with you lately. You've been cryptic about everything, are you leaving school, what are you doing? What is going on?” Chris turned to me and with a controlled voice said, “you'll see soon enough, Trevor. You'll see. I have nearly everything I want, now. Nearly.” I grabbed my soap and left for the showers down the hall. I kept asking myself what was going on. The guy was getting weirder and weirder every day. I turned the shower on and unhooked my towel. I nearly wondered if I should even go back to my room. Would he still be there? Was whatever he was doing have to do with me? I looked down at my own body and was impressed with my build. My third year working hard with the team. “Not bad,” I said, flexing my six-pack and biceps. I finished the shower and toweled off, wrapping my towel back around me again. I kept telling myself to walk to Nick or Badger's room, ask them for a spare set of clothes. I should have avoided Chris. But I didn't, I kept walking back to my room, step by step. I opened the door, carefully. No one inside. “Okay,” I told myself with a relief. I shut the door and opened my underwear drawer. It was then that I heard the door open again, Chris forced himself in with a ton of energy. And rage. “It's time!” He shouted as he shut the door. “It's night! The sun is set. You are to be my sacrifice, Trevor!” He shouted again, raising his arms and revealing a green, glowing thing. It was shaped like an athletic cup. That must had been the thing in his desk. It shined a strange, green, electric light that flashed every few seconds. Chris was still in his gym shorts. I could see a bulge emerging from under it. Taking two steps toward me, he said, “This is the way it has to be!” He tried laying a massive punch to my gut but I was able to evade it, “WOAH!” I said, I had never been in a violent fight before. Not one like this, and not one against someone who I thought was my friend. “What the FUCK CHRIS?!?” I shouted. “Get the fuck away from me!” “NO! You don't understand,” the jock said, grabbing my shoulders and shoving me against the wall. “I have to do this. The god of Ahriman is calling me! I want his powers, and he requires a sacrifice!” It didn't matter how outlandish his words were, the jock was trying to plummet me. Hit me, ground me, whatever he could to keep me from scrambling away. I quickly shoved him back. I headed for the door but he grabbed me. Bear hugging me before pushing me to the ground. “Just stay still while I become him!!” He said. Chris kept me pinned with his left arm as he grabbed his shorts with his right and yanked them down. I could feel the jock's dick behind his compressions, not sure if he was hot for me or hot for the cup that was holding in his left arm. I didn't have time to think. I elbowed him and head-butted him on his nose “aww fuck!” he shouted as I made my way once more to the door. I couldn't reach the handle as I felt my body swing back toward his again. He knocked my ankles and caused me to fall to the ground. As I did, my towel finally unhooked itself. He gave me another shove causing my ass to hit the carpet as he hung onto the towel, throwing it behind him. “We both must be naked,” he said as I tried crawling my way toward the door. He grabbed me again and threw me away from the door. Standing again, I tried running toward the back window but Chris once again grabbed me. I was getting weak and tired. “He requires a sacrifice,” he said, standing behind me, pulling me against his body. Chris threw himself to the ground, pinning me underneath him. His dick once more was on my body, getting harder with excitement. I was able to flip him over and pin him down myself, now my own naked body over his. I lay two punches into him and kicked his back, attempting to get myself up but I was growing weak. Chris jostled with me, throwing me back to the ground. And stepping on my legs and he stood himself back up. He then stepped on my abdomen. With force, crunching my stomach and causing me to tense up. “OWW!” I shouted, crunching my abs to protect the stomach. He took his right arm and used it once more to undress, pushing down his compression shorts and revealing his naked self. The guy was a monster, no wonder he could overtake me. His shorts hit my abs. He put additional pressure down before removing his foot, leaving his shorts on my body. I quickly scooted back letting the shorts fall off of me. I couldn't get any further though. The naked jock picked me up and held me with both of his arms. I could feel the cup in his right hand, it was exuding with energy, giving me a feeling of confidence, and power. I liked it, but I was too preoccupied with the jock to do anything about it now. He wrestled me to the ground, throwing me down face first. My package hit the floor. “Ugh!” I shouted. The jock stood himself and rested his foot on my chest as I turned around. I was on the floor and the jock stood above me, just enough pressure to keep me from moving. “It's time, Trevor. I need you for this, know that your sacrifice will turn me into a god, and let me relive the glory of being the most envied athlete around!” He turned his attention to the cup as I struggled lifting his massive foot. “Oh great god of Ahriman,” he said, “I am your vessel, your human for you to bond with. I order you to give me your powers, use me as your host, and share with me in your immortality.” Chris started to chuckle as the lowered the thing toward his crotch. “Yes, I can feel them, I can feel the powers!” he shouted. I had to do something, the cup was starting to spark out with power. My left leg was free. I lifted my body and threw my knee into leg, then kicked his crotch as my foot flew back and hit the cup. “OW!” he shouted, grabbing his dick as the cup went flying out of his hands and toward me. Chris removed his foot and I started to get up but the cup hit my chest. I tried catching it but it slid down my pecs, abs and toward my dick, with every moment increasing the amount of energy and confidence. “Oh fuck!” I said in surprise, falling back to the ground and trying to catch it. *** But it was too late. The cup hit my dick and immediately suctioned onto it. Lifting itself over my dick and balls and turning immediately into a putty substance. “OH!” I shouted in surprise, the thing latching onto me and heating up fast, I could feel its energy quickly pulling itself into my dick, settling into my balls, and changing me from the inside out. Giving new energy and stamina like I had never before felt. I was terrified. What was this thing? “Get it off get it off!” I shouted, still on the ground I was no longer in fear of Chris, I just needed to get this putty mess off of me. Chris was thinking the same thing, but for entirely different reasons. “NOO!” He shouted in defeat, terrified now that the slave was quickly transforming into the master. I tried clawing at the hot pile of buddy over my crotch as is stretched and started swimming its way into my dick. As much as I tried the hot, powerful cup was latched firmly onto me, refusing to budge at all. Chris fell to his knees and smacked my hands off of the thing, clawing at it himself. “NOO!” he shouted again as he grasped and clawed at the cup now beginning to stretch its way over my pubes, around my thighs, and toward my butt. A new surge of energy came over me and I shoved the naked brute aside. “Woah” I told myself, I never knew that I had that amount of strength, it took almost no effort to get the jock away. But I hadn't time to think, the power that it was pulling into my balls was somehow transforming me, it was now pulling out of my balls and into my body. I started involuntarily convulsing, my muscles started spasming. “ARGH!” I shouted as My arms and legs twitched and spasmed, twisting me around to my stomach. I could feel the cup stretching onto the back of my ass. I could also, for the first time, “sense” Chris watching me, as if I knew what he was up to without even looking at him. He was watching as my ass exploded with muscle, locking in a hard bubble butt as the cup stretched itself over it, forming a green, electric-ridden loincloth of sorts. I stood up and noticed with surprise how much muscle I had gained. My six pack had turned to an eight pack and my adoinis started creating a sharp, well-defined V, much sharper than my roommate's. “Argh!” said again as I doubled over, feeling my pecs bounce and flatten out before becoming rock hard. My back started doing the same as my shoulders grew and beefed up muscle mass, stretching down to my arms and forearms. “What the fuck, Chris?” I shouted with rage. “What the fuck is this thing doing to me?!” I stepped toward the brute as my thighs exploded with muscle, causing me to lose my balance as I grabbed the jock, lifting him up with one arm and throwing him against the wall. “WHAT IS THIS THING??” I demanded. “No, wait, wait!” he said, turning from the aggressive asshole into the submissive beggar. “Let me go, let me go before its too late!” “Too late for what?” I shouted, a deeper, more controlled and confidence voice shouted from my throat. My waist rocked around in front of the naked jock; I looked down and I noticed my balls dropping, my dick plumping as the cup continued to fill me with muscle. With it came an incredible amount of confidence. “No,” I ordered. “I don't know what you thought you were doing, but you gone fucked up, little man,” I said, more calm and controlled than ever before. It was then, as my personality began to change, as my mortality, my humanity began to devolve from me, that I felt a new presence emerge within me. Then I understood: the god. The god of Ahriman. He was awakening inside my loins. “Yes,” I heard the voice say. “I am arisen once more.” “Yes,” I said in response, chuckling, “what I am to do?” “This human must be scarified, he thought he could take you, but you won, you are now my vessel. Let me become you. Let us merge by sacrificing this mortal.” The voice responded. I suddenly felt a wave of evil pass through my mind as my body once again tensed up and the muscle on me exploded. I tightened my body. “Oh FUCK YEA” I said, I could feel my body readying itself. It was time. “You're mine. Human.” I said as I started chuckling. I shoved Chris against the wall as the cup connected over my ass crack, completing its formation over its new host. Its new owner. A new loincloth formed over me just as Ahriman wore it. It immediately started crackling with bright, green electricity, emanating a bright, green, hot light from it. I pushed my loins against Chris'. The heat started to sear his body. “NOOO!” He shouted, fearful and out of control. “Oh yes,” I said, controlled and assured. “I can feel your muscle, your stamina, it's time for me to take you, human!” I felt like I was being controlled by another force but it was all I wanted, I wanted to take his body, to take his lifeforce, the twerp was a loser, a bully who thought he could take me and become the god. But I was the one chosen, I was the greater jock, the one who fought, the one who won. He was mine. My mouth watered for his, I wanted to taste him as he dissolved. I dug my mouth into his in a long, forceful kiss, breathing him in as the loincloth took his life away. I could feel his dick shrinking against mine as the beams of light wrapped around his loins and started feeding his muscle mass and stamina into me. It got more aggressive as the jock lost his muscle, the light emanating from my loins and over his body before pulling everything that made the jock the athlete what he was and into me. I let go of his lips and lifted my head in orgasmic pleasure. “YES!” I shouted as my voice lowered, becoming more masculine. More god-like. I could feel him growing smaller, and skinnier, ever smaller as the muscle drained from him. Then, he started cracking as his organs, bones and finally skin dissolved into the green light, wrapping into me as I took in his power. Now the green streaks of light were all over me. The loincloth, taking in the body of Chris, dissolved into a cloud of pure, unbridled power enveloping and transforming me into a muscle-ridden god. The god of Ahriman. “OH YES!” I shouted again, feeling my body open up and take in the powers. I realized I no longer cared about who I was, I was now everything I could have possibly imagined being. And more. I was a naked god, a being who could do anything and now was on a plane of existence where physics and biology and humanity no longer applied. I was a pure, unbridled god. And I was going to live like one. “ARRRGGHHH!” I shouted, flexing my naked, strong, cut body as the powers flung with sheer force back into me, leaving me in control of who I was and what I was to do. “OH FUCK YEAH!” I shouted. “This is it! This is what I'm talking about!” The powers seared into me, leaving me as a human vessel but containing the pure, unbridled powers of a god. My body had tanned, a thin line of brown hair rested on it before growing to a forest over my pubes and legs. My dick was the size of a bottle and my balls were hugely nestled behind it. “HAHA!” I shouted again, levitating myself, finally unbridled from the confines of humanity. My body was restless, it was begging for release, it wanted something, some satisfaction, the god of Ahriman was begging for it. “Man or woman?” I asked. “Both!” it demanded. I levitated and turned myself invisible, phasing through my dorm wall and into the main quad. I could feel other sports teams working their way into their locker rooms, no doubt to strip down. The tennis players were finishing their practice, they were about to hit the locker room. The toned boys felt promising. Then again, a group of girl swimmers were also getting out of the pool. And my old friend Nick, he was walking his way toward the library. But it was then I could hear my neighbor Badger walk out of his dorm. He was the only other guy on our floor at the moment, and no doubt heard the struggle and transformation nearby. “Trevor, hey dude, are you okay?” he asked knocking on my door. I floated back into my room and stayed invisible. Badger opened the door, it was empty, but there lay massive signs of a struggle. “What happened?” He whispered to himself. As he stepped in I flung the door shut with my mind and appeared before him in my form, the naked beast that I was. “AAHHH!” he shouted in fear, seeing someone flash into existence right before him, and someone as intimidating as massive as I had become. “Shh!” I said with confidence, “don't worry my friend,” I said, filling his mind with a hypnotic, dazed trance. “It is only Trevor,” “Trevor,” he whispered, somehow reasoning with himself that I was okay. Badger was a good man, a smart man, and a loyal friend. I had an itch in my crotch though and I could give him a piece of my powers, enslaving him to my will in the process. I asked myself if I should do it. “Why not!” I told myself. “Strip for me,” I ordered. And with it, Badger started taking off his clothes, ready to succumb to my will. Commentary: Feedback is always appreciated. I think I need to ask in a separate forum help writing different stories, and getting my stories posted here. All of my stories are nearly an identical "origin story." A man becomes a super-hero or a super-villain through some immortal artifact or though some science experiment gone wrong. My favorite kinds of story use muscle and "supernatural powers" as key parts of the transformation but I know that the whole "super power" thing is rare on this site. Probably most of the community thinks its kind of lame. I like writing these stories its probably my favorite fantasy, but of course I keep writing the same damn thing over and over. Any suggestions on this story? Others to write? Please let me know, it's always a huge help.

Re-editing

Back in 2012, Justin Bieber decided to start to go to a gym in LA, he wanted to workout and to be muscular, his boyish appeal wasn't supposed to work for him anymore, he need to be masculine to be a star He found Zac Efron in the same gym, Zac is generally a pretty nice guy, but when he found the skinny kid trying to lift small weights he couldn't help but make fun of it Z: "-Look at it, the boy can't lift even two pounds" J: "-I'm just starting" Z: "When I started I lifted more than that, I'm pretty sure" Efron harrassment keeps going on and on, untill some day that Bieber didn't show up anymore... Then some years later, in 2017, Efron was working out his chest in bench press, when his exercise was over, a guy show up and just put more ten pounds in the bar It was Justin... Bieber didn't want to humiliate Zac with words, he wanted the situation to speak for itself, he wanted to say "look I can lift more than you do now" Zac keeps looking in hope that something would went wrong, but it didn't happened Bieber lifted the weights with such ease, he didn't moaned as much as Zac At this point Efron still had the best biceps, but anyone could notice Bieber's abs, chest and ass gave Zac a run for his money. Even at the biceps department.. Efron starts to get threatened Efron pretended that he never bullied Bieber, if he didn't mention it, it didn't happened, anyway he could say he was just trying to motivate him Constantly and daily Bieber looked at Efron with death stares that make him tremble his legs Bieber didn't was physically imponent or intimidating, but was enough for Zac to don't want trouble with him, not to say he was used to train fight and wrestling, something that Zac wasn't used to do But they remain friendly to each other Constantly comparing their muscles, Zac run from strength challenges (like arm wrestling), but muscle size is still arguable at this point Bieber was trying to lay the groundwork for a wrestling match / MMA combat Something is pretty clear, Zac wouldn’t fight in front of everyone but for sure would fight “hidden”, this kid Bieber is a douchebag and he needs a lesson, everyone knows that, and he wouldn’t waste the chance to beat the shit out of him Bieber thought that him would make that challenge, but Efron did it first, invitating him to a match at his house Bieber appear at Efron’s home, ready to fight, and tried to make an agreement over the results, he wants sex after the fight, and the loser will bottom, Zac gets angry, he thinks “why is he trying to do this?”, but suddenly he realizes Bieber wants to disconcert him and accept the challenge Before the fight, they played mercy, Zac is confident, he puts a lot of his strength as he bends Bieber with ease, then Bieber get on his knees and Efron is about to win… but Efron suddenly stops, he don’t know what is going on but Bieber’s arms turns unbendable. Bieber was just toying, playing with his expectations: “if the guy is so easy, I don’t need to put too much effort”. But Zac didn’t know he needed to put all of himself into it, so when Bieber take control, it was very hard for Zac to recover In a smart and fast move Bieber choke Efron into his armpits J: yeah suck my nasty, sweaty pits, this is your place Efron is in despair but suddenly he starts to choke Bieber’s neck with his legs, Bieber have no choice but release his face Now Zac is in control, it’s hard to escape a leg hold and Zac just enjoy… Zac starts to move around with Bieber trapped on his legs, moving Bieber around, move him for the left, them move him for the right Then Bieber gets on his knees, still trapped, but he have a way out He holds Efron’s legs with his arms and start to push Efron to the wall, drag Efron by the ground, Efron releases him and now it’s time for a fast move Bieber choke Efron on his pits again, but now he does it violently, pressing Zac’s face against the ground just to take off his breathe Then he starts to get up, with Efron trapped on his arms, he basically pull Zac’s off by the neck, and starts to walk, Zac is with his legs bent, crawling, he can’t escape Bieber orders J: Lick my pits, now I’m talking seriously Efron moans Bieber chokes hard and screams LICK IT! Efron lick the pits, Bieber just hold a little because Efron couldn’t stop licking, Bieber let it happen because he wanted to enjoy the taste to be in control Bieber releases Efron who got off with a hard moan, falling on his knees Bieber go to the scoreboard: 1X0 Zac is pissed off, but he don’t let himself to be defeated, all the situation just fuels his anger 2nd round starts Zac just hold Bieber in another strength competition, now he’s more ready, he won’t let Bieber fool him, playing mercy again, now there’s nothing that Bieber can do, he’s giving it all but Zac still bend him, put Bieber on the ground Suddenly Zac pulls Bieber by the legs, thrown the legs, sit on Bieber’s chest, kneeling on the ground, puts Bieber’s arms ander his legs and start to torture him, pinching and twitching his nipples, then punching his chest and finally pulling Bieber by his hair to rub Bieber’s face on his dick Still in control Zac flex his muscles over Bieber, but decided to still have some fun He pull Bieber’s face, again, and rub on his dick, and keep rubbing and rubbing while Bieber moans, pull with one hand while flex the other arm, laugh When he’s about to release Bieber he just get his balls and press it hard, don’t underestimate Zac ballbusting powers, Bieber about to cry starts to fight Efron’s hand, but of course Zac fights back and keeps destroying his balls, then Zac squeeze and punch Bieber’s chest, repeatedly When Bieber looks over Efron lift him, and give him a bearhug, make Bieber feel like his back would be crushed, and squeeze, squeeze him so hard, Bieber thinks “at some point he will get tired, I’m not that light to carry” but Zac never get tired and the situation comes to unbearable Bieber taps, it’s over, Efron won that round, Efron is dangerous, Bieber learned that he’s a destroying machine when he’s angry, and he can do everything to win “if Efron cheats I’m going to cheat to take the upper hand too” 1X1 3rd round starts, they hold each other and start to push, very hard, Bieber used this as a distraction and kick Efron in the balls suddenly putting Efron on the ground, he just starts to beat Efron over him Bieber uses his armpits (again) to suffocate, he choke Efron a little bit then lift him, holding him by the legs and neck, put Efron upside his shoulders and start a torture rack Bieber stretch Efron out, that screams loudly when Bieber looks into a mirror to proudly look at the monster he took control, he notes Efron is with an indecent boner popping out of his singlet... Bieber quickly thinks “I will take advantage of this” J: Its 2X1 for me now, isn’t it? Bieber says with Efron on his shoulders He goes to the scoreboard and change the score J: I didn’t finished it yet Bieber starts to move Zefron, puts him in a reverse inverted bearhug, hold him hard, Efron moans, Bieber starts to take him down, till Zac’s face get in front of his dick, puts Zac’s face inside the speedo J: Learn something man, you wanted to teach me a lesson and maybe I deserve one… but unfortunately it’s not one of your movies where the good guy wins, this is real life… maybe someone needs to teach me something.. but needs to be someone better than you.. now you know what you have to do Upside down, Efron starts to suck Bieber’s dick, he’s upside down, with a boner so embarrassing on his own speedo and of course Bieber took advantage of this also While Zac sucks him, Bieber starts to masturbate Zac, he does it so softly, and found amusing to see Efron’s body spasms everytime he stops Bieber make Zac jizz all over his speedo, right after Bieber jizz on Zac’s face, lift Zac’s up and thrown him on the ground Zac is destroyed, with his face full of Bieber’s cum, his speedo full of his own cum, he could fight back but is afraid to get another beatdown, it’s embarrassing to see an almost 30 years old man submitting so shamefully to a 22 years old boy but he did it anyway Bieber pulls Efron by the hair and make Efron kiss every block of his abs, so Efron give Bieber 8 kisses on his belly, while Bieber pull him over J: Remember what we agreed to Z: You don’t get tired to abuse me like this? J: no I don’t, now get in position Zac gets in position to be fucked in the ass like a bitch, he’s too humiliated to fight back and too humiliated to don’t be humiliated a little bit more

Farniro pumped massive bellows. The chain belt powering them was exhaustively resilient. He had to hang on it, just to get things started. His fur glistened with sweat and soot. Gebis kept calling for more and more, every sentence another demand. The young feline never seemed to reach the expectation. Either that or it kept rising. The youthful warrior had come to this forge and its master, for the sake of Sanguis. His precious weapon had taken a mighty beating against that golem. He’d arrived with its blade chipped and pitted. The next swing might have snapped it in two. And as precious as Farniro’s tool was to him, it wasn’t something he could forge personally. Gebis was happy to help. The renowned artisan had supplied some of the land’s greatest swords, both magical and mundane. He’d admired Sanguis and gotten to work in short order. He’d delicately fashioned his wonders on the metal, avoiding the actual smelt of its blade. Edges were softened and brought back to shape. Enchanted oils infused the seams, making them vanish without the slightest trace. The smith returned to Farniro, sword gleaming in the sun. That’s when all the troubled started. “Amazing work, nya! It looks as good as new! How’d you do it?” “You should know better than to ask for such secrets, squirt.” Farniro laughed with awkward embarrassment and an emphatic nod. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I just got carried away with the sight of it. How much do I owe you?” “Five-hundred should do it.” “Wow! That’s really kind of you. I wasn’t expecting it to be so cheap.” “Most wouldn’t think so, but who am I to argue with such a deep purse.” The two shared a spell of laughter as the feline rummaged for coins. A bit it had to be the silver requested. The majority condensed with the last of his gold. He was sorry to see the last of that haul go, but it was worth it for Sanguis. When Farniro looked up to hand his pile over, he found a disgruntled mustache twitching in disapproval. A few blinks didn’t dispel an illusion, so the cat opened his mouth to ask what was up. Gebis didn’t wait for the question, asking a rhetorical one of his own instead. “Well aren’t you the hopeful little dreamer?” Farniro tried again, only to be cut off once more. “Five. Hundred. Gold. My work isn’t as cheap as you seem to think.” The feline’s mouth dropped as eyes bugged wide. You could buy out a village for that; feed an army for a month’s march. “Why didn’t you tell me it would be so much?!” “You never asked. I figured you just had deep pockets. Now I come to find out you’re a fool instead.” “But I can’t pay that! I’ve barely had that much to my name in my whole life. I mean, I guess I could focus on finding some hordes and taking some jobs to pay you over time,” Gebis interrupted with a mocking laugh. “I doubt you’ve got what it takes without a sword.” The blacksmith smiled at the swordsman’s sunken expression. Then he clarified, “I get paid or you don’t get it back. I don’t work for pittance.” Farniro clutched his ears and let out a long, “Nyaaaaaaaa!” of frustration. Gebis let the cat squirm, holding back his schadenfreuden chuckles. “Isn’t there something I can do for you to make good on this?” “Tell you what,” the blacksmith let hope build in the yellow eyes before finishing, “You work my bellows and play houseboy for a month, we’ll call it even.” Joyous hope erupted within Farniro and made ready to spew its exuberance in words. Once again, Gebis cut him off. This time it came with savage undertone. “Don’t go thinking you’re getting off light squirt. If you don’t last the month, then the sword is mine. No wining or asking for a second chance either.” The feline gulped in dreaded anticipation, having yet to see the workshop’s interior. Still; he couldn’t abandon the only chance given. “Okay then. It’s a deal.” Gebis’ hand thrust out like a glaive, making the cat jump back at first. Then the latter realized, it was meant for a binding shake. As one hand met the other, Farniro felt the grip and weight of a bad deal. The swordsman wasn’t wrong in his assumption. The room appeared more dungeon than smithery’s workshop. Hung blades reeked of savage intent. The anvil at center was huge and broad, easily mistakable for an altar. The massive furnace eclipsed one wall, chain pulleys edging like decretive columns. Gebis interrupted the awful exploration; with the explanation, “That forge is meant for a man on either side. I’ve been working its bellows by myself for years. So you shouldn’t have too much trouble keeping up.” Farniro looked back to see a swindling smile, frowning an acknowledgement of con.” “You giving up already? Feel free to walk out any time.” “I said I’d do it so I’ll do it. I’m getting Sanguis back.” “We’ll see. Far be it for me to frown at free labor.” Three weeks later, the cat’s ears drooped with exhaustion. On and on the smith bellowed for bellows. They’d only had two days of rest since starting, but even that wasn’t fully true for his laborer. Gebis filled the quiet days with chores, pushing his serf at every turn. That cruel smile became nearly omnipresent. The smith could see his victory in sight. Now Farniro felt the end nearing. He still had a week to go, but so long felt endlessly out of reach. Still he refused to give up. Nothing short of collapse would stop him. Gebis struck and tapped at a new commission. It was a mage blade that baked with red corona, even before putting it to flames. They, or rather Farniro; had needed to douse their coals in a syrupy red goo. His taskmaster had explained it as getting the fires hot enough. The feline had needed to stir both fuels together, straining his arms with weight and thickness. It wore him out before even starting on the chains, making the metal loops feel more like shackles. As the cat shoveled in the first load of drenched coals, he had to pry piles free. Thick tendrils of the goo, stretched in resistance. It layered the shovel and made it impossible to throw loads. Instead, the swordsman had to scrape it free on the open hatch. A hiss came from the wetted fire within a few loads. Wisps of crimson silk began to trail from the opening. It quickly thickened to a haze, which had the cat coughing inside a few minutes. “Work the bellows and clear that stuff out the chimney. I don’t want to start sucking it down. If you were a real man, you could do both at the same time.” Farniro grimaced and kept from showing his sneer. Another cough banished the worry, as he staggered over to the chains. Hands dragged him up the large links. They wanted to slip, but pride and need refused to let them. When chain loosened and the cat found his feet again, he couldn’t help but gasp with the strain. It rushed the cloud deep into lungs, starting him in a hectic fit of coughing. The feline scrabbled his way free of oily smoke, crawling along the floor on knees. Refuge hand him breathing deeply of the cleaner air. No sooner had the serf reached sanctuary, than bidden to return. “Back to it runt.” A scrap of cloth landed next to Farniro, drawing his eyes up to Gebis’. There he found the raised cheeks of a smile, hidden behind another tatter of cloth. The bastard had known and prepared himself already. “If you can’t manage, I’ll take this as a forfeit.” “Nya.” The swordsman uttered between stifled hitches. The cloth pressed loosely against his mouth. Air was still too precious for such restriction. It took about a minute, before he could fasten its ends in place. The feline found strength in anger, forcing a stand and tying the rag. Eyes squinted against the malicious smoke, as he hurried his way back to chains. He forced breath low and kept a steady pace. Another gasp or panting would start it all over. This was hardest in getting the bellows turning again, but that first loosening appeared to help. The cruel-hearted blacksmith was pounding away behind, sparks flying and at the cat. His back and hair were singed, from all the burring metal they’d already caught; meaning Farniro paid them little mind. Blackened holes peppered his sleeveless shirt. The world began to fade for the swordsman. It narrowed to task and strain. The sense of it dulled with every pull. His vision blurred. Time became abstract. Life emptied its meaning. The cat found distance relieving, letting him drift away from the effort. Even the chain's resistance felt lighter, far away in uninhabited lands. As time passed, relief turned to embrace; then to surreal optimism. At least this trial would build up his fortitude and resilience. The feline had faced hectic and strenuous training before, but nothing as taxing without the cuts and bruises to encourage. His only pain was the ache of callused fingers and palms. Even that was starting to fade. The outlook empowered him more than expected. Farniro could barely feel the effort he poured in. The bellows lightened with every tug. The weight of body vanished with his dawning paradigm. Advancing acceptance had more power than dreamed. A muffled voice began to encroach. The swordsman couldn't make it out at first, too lost in reflection for the external. His head shook and thoughts cleared a little, trying to pay attention to the tyrant. It took him far longer than expected, volume rising before he could clarify. "Hold, hold!" were the first clear words. Farniro ended the meditative cycle, turning to face the voice's source. He only made it half a step, before his balance ended precariously. The swordsman teetered and nearly fell over, grabbing the chain to regain equilibrium. The world returned in a rush of disorder, bringing with it a wealth of awareness. The first nuance to register was angle. The feline looked round and upward, finding nothing but roof. He heard Gebis shout from below and looked down in surprise. There the smith was, looking furious and finite. Farniro began to question his memory, remembering the artisan much taller. That left him scrambling for answers within, losing tack of the other's continued rants. Next a register of strain, tightness spread along chest and leggings. The swordsman looked down and answered sight with gasp. His shirt was tattered, ripped across his bulging chest. The crest of pectorals obscured his vision lower. Folded seems at shoulders had degraded to frayed bands. Threads and tatters of cloth, protruded outward like the spokes of a mangled bicycle. With attention rushing away from thought and back to body, elation stuck as a brick to head. Farniro hadn't dared to lean forward and inspect further yet, but he could feel the same decimated fabric below. Now it pressed tighter, centering efforts singularly. Arousal embraced him with all the furnace of homecoming. Cheeks heated beyond forge's power, sprouting from the rivaling sensation below. A region of cloth sundered entirely, freeing the urgency of a mammoth erection. The bulging shaft towered beyond recognition. Its twitching pulse screamed for attention. Farniro returned to ignoring the smith, as rippling arms reached for the prize. He pulled it close and moaned at the feel. Bending it against him brought waves of delight, the head nestling within solar plexus. Its tip graced along the underside of chest, summoning a growling shutter from its owner. Farniro began to stroke himself, unable to resist its call. The heated flesh throbbed in hand, eager to answer the call. Each palm moved slowly, finding their way along every lengthy surface. There was so much to explore. He couldn't fully encircle such manhood, even with both hands parallel; but damned if he wasn't going to try. Gebis looked on with fear and regret. He'd pushed things too far in a quest for victory. Caution took backseat to spite. Vicious provocations were no offset to risk. His cruel smile was gone. It was replaced by rage hiding dread. The enchanted oils had certainly worked their magic for the forge. They'd also pressed the cat to its limits. However, the artisan knew better than to write off this tragedy there. The world hadn't twisted from true, till he'd begun work on the blade. Sentient metal had howled in hand, yet the smith carried on. The resistance was normal enough. The tyrant equated it to shoeing a horse. Any weapon of such caliber, would try to kick and buck just the same. Gebis wore the protections needed, but had limited thought for fallout upon the serf. The ember blade was old and wise. It'd learned of people and their ways though various wielders. Knowing attack was meaningless against the smith, it sought refuge in the only answer left. The dynamic between both men was clear, a servant and master. So the sword had decided to tip those scales, in the most effective method it could. Seeds of enchantment had leapt with shed sparks. They'd worked their way in, layering with every blow. Nevertheless, such results were far beyond expectation. Gebis roared for the feline to halt. He ranted with insults and demands, trying to intimidate the mistake into submission. All of his wailing and wining fell on deaf ears. There was nothing he could do to stop this obscene act. Anger kept the smith from consideration of worse. The idea of reprisal stayed locked behind angst. Farniro cared nothing for murmurs barely registered. He was enthralled by the swelling enjoyment. The few remaining tatters of cloth; snapped and flew free in succession. The bulge in hands expanded ever larger. Every twitch and rush of blood pumped into the mammoth, widened and expanded beyond limit. The feline's head crested ceiling, forcing wood to creak and neck to bend. The newly formed Goliath attempted to sit. He could only spare one hand for the task. The other redoubled its effort toward front, unable to leave arousal unattended. The whole endeavor was lost from the start. Farniro couldn't maintain a balance of his new and ever-expanding form. Too much shifted and proportions went well past acclimation. The mere act of a crouch sent him rocking back. The bracing arm had no grasp of distance. Thus the cat landed with an earth-shaking thud, lanced several cracks along the stone flooring. That's when his tail graced upon the furnace and all hell broke loose. Farniro yowled as the appendage tried to broil. He shot his body upward and away, widening cracks with weight and force. He'd never wielded the power of such legs. Nor could he prepare for the might expelled. The massive cat shot up and through the roof, sundering wood with no more resistance than twigs. He was too focused on the sudden singe for realization, leaving the forge and workshop far behind. Understanding hit in unison with ground. Towering trees broke, flattened under muscular weight. The forest canopy dimpled as it made way for a behemoth. Farniro felt it no more than falling back. His attention and interest were still ruled by other sensations. He didn't spare time or thought over what happened, only returned hands where they were needed. Gebis looked up in marvel. His shop was in shambles. Forge and anvil kilted towards the creator left behind. He stood frozen and held by dismay. The swordsman moaned with impending release. His hands flew faster as excitement clamored. Birds and beasts all flew and ran clear. None dared encounter the monstrosity it hailed from. The feline roared as ecstasy culminated. The world went white, in far more than figurative. Farniro panted, exhausted by it all. He and the surrounding trees were coated, sticky with layers of thickly dripping seed. It took several minutes for the numbing of delight to fade. When it eventually did, a single thought chimed its attention. "I forgot Sanguis!"

Re-editing the story

Part One "Ah, Henri, just the person I was looking for!" As Henri bowed to his Captain, Treville bowed in reply and as he came up added "You have to be one of the most polite Musketeers it has been my honour to have in the corps" and when whispered in Henri's ear "Just lay off it in public otherwise people might twig that you are from England!" Henri smiled and he said that he would tone it down a little, knowing that the Captain was the only member of the corps who knew his true origin. "Now, down to business" continued the Captain, "I presume that you know the Duke of Buckingham is coming to visit next week as part of his, so called, diplomacy" Henri nodded and sighed to which the Captain replied "Yes, my feelings exactly. We both know what he is doing here. He wants to be alone with the Queen for as long as possible. There are times I wish he'd just leave her alone, but, well, you can't say no to love I guess, therefore I wanted to know if you could have a word with the Ultimates for me?" "All of them, sir?" asked Henri, "but sir, I really only know the Ultimate Musketeer" "True" replied the Captain, "but well, your skills at diplomacy are renowned, after all you are the person who delivered the King's Lights back to Phillip of Spain in perfect Spanish" "And what is the message that you would like me to relay to them, sir?" smiled Henri *** "Sorry?" asked Roger, later that evening as he and Porthos were gathered at Henri's digs, "the King wants the Ultimates to greet the Duke?" "That's right" replied Henri, "you see he's had some intelligence, and it's correct intelligence, that the Duke is bisexual at best and he thinks that if he were to see the Ultimates he might lose interest in the Queen and start paying more attention with them and therefore put the King's mind at ease!" "Well" chuckled Porthos, "I don't mind showing him what the Ultimate Titan can do!" "What is the Duke like?" asked Roger to which Henri replied, "Well, let's put it this way" and began a very detailed explanation highlighting the Duke's relationship with James I of England noting that "one letter from the Duke to the King said "whether you loved me now…better than at the time which I shall never forget at Farnham, where the bed's head could not be found between the master and his dog" so make of that what you will" but as he continued Roger started to lean in and said "And he's bisexual you think?" "I am certain of it!" replied Henri *** As the Duke of Buckingham entered the courtyard of the Louvre, he was greeted by the King and Queen in person and as tradition dictated he kneeled before the King, kissed his glove, stood up, kissed the Queen on the cheek and announced himself as "His Grace, George Villers, Duke of Buckingham" As they greeted each other, Roger, now in the guise of the Ultimate Cadet looked at the Duke and whispered "He looks nothing like a dog" which was met by a glare from Henri, as the Ultimate Musketeer, as the King brought the Duke to them. "Your Grace" said the King, "these three men are the strongest and most powerful member of my Musketeers" and with that he nodded to Henri who stepped forward, towering over the Duke by a good two feet, and announced "I am the Ultimate Musketeer, the most powerful member of the corps, this is the Ultimate Titan, the strongest man ever to live in the world" and with that Porthos, as his alter ego, stepped forward, "and this is the Ultimate Cadet, a man who desires to become what we both are!" As Roger stepped forward, the Duke's eyes opened wide and as he traced out the Ultimate Cadet's pecs, he moaned "Such a work of art" and as he was led away by the King towards the Palace, the Duke turned and blew a kiss to Roger prompting Henri to chuckle "Get your coat, Roger, I think you've pulled"

One Jason heard the rumbling sounds coming from his brother's room. "Can't he just do anything quiet", he said to himself and returned to the book he was reading. He had been granted a full academic scholarship to the prestigious university a few blocks away from his house. He was all too happy he would get a top degree and could do it from the comfort of his own room. Brett, Jason's brother, was throwing his clothes atop his bed and putting them into the two large bags on the floor. He was eager to leave for Orchid University and was going to enjoy living on campus. His athletic skills had earned him a football scholarship and he just knew that professional football was his future. Jason was washing his hands when his brother entered the bathroom. He rolled his eyes as he saw that his brother was walking around shirtless once again. Despite the fact they were twins, their brown hair and dark eyes was their only resemblance. At 5'8 and weighing 155 pounds, Jason was a typical nerd: a smart guy, always buried in books, shy and somewhat clumsy. His triangular face and the absence of any beard whatsoever made him look more like a 15 year old. Brett on the other hand was a tad taller (5'9) but weighed an impressive 212 pounds of mostly muscle. He was a pure jock: when not out on the football field, he was pumping iron in the gym, didn't miss an opportunity to ditch his shirt to show off his muscular torso. His strong jaw line and five o'clock beard made him appear a few years older than 18. "Ya done here, little bro?", Brett asked in his deep baritone. "I was born first. That makes me the big brother technically", Jason replied in his higher voice. "You? The big brother? Think again", Brett said and flexed his right arm, "18 inches of power". "Muscle won't take you everywhere in life", Jason shot back. "I'll take brawn over brain every day, bro. How many chicks did your big brain get you so far?", Brett asked and caressed his six-pack, "My muscles got me every girl I wanted. Now be a good little boy and let me shower in peace". Jason shook his head and hurried away from the bathroom as his brother didn't even wait for his reaction to pull down his own pants. He heard the water turn on as he headed back to his room. "One day he's going to get what he deserves", he mumbled to himself. He entered his room and found a parcel on his desk. He opened the little box and discovered an old looking book. A small note fell from the book as he lifted it from the box. He retrieved it and read off the message: A small gift for someone greatly interested in books. Congratulations on year scholarship and good luck in university. Grandpa Jason opened the book and noticed it was some kind of ancient spell book. He knew his grandpa had a great collection of rare books. He had spent hours and hours with him in his library, fascinated by the tales his grandpa had told. Unfortunately, his grandparents lived on the other side of the country and visits had become very rare. He dove onto his bed and began reading the curious book. The next morning Brett took one of his signature long showers. Everyone in the house knowing what he was doing from the loud moans escaping the bathroom. He appeared bright and shining at the breakfast table, a skintight shirt hugging his torso. "Gotta feed this body", he mumbled with a full mouth as he took a fourth serving of pancakes. "Makes us proud, son", his father said, "Maintain the athletic heritage from our family". "Don't worry", Brett replied and gulped down a protein shake, "I will take the field by storm". He gulped down another shake, patted his six-pack and burped. "Fine. Let's get you off to Orchid university then", his father said and get up. "Jason, honey", his mother yelled, "we're off to take your brother to his campus. We'll be back tomorrow. There's plenty of food in the fridge." "Always with his head in the books", his father said while he shook his head and followed his wife and son to the car. Jason watched from the window in his room and saw his parents and his brother drive away. He went to the bathroom and headed into the long walk-in shower. He grinned as he noticed the traces of his brother's morning ritual on the tilled wall: several sticky stains of cum glistened on the dark tiles as they were slowly sliding down. "Luckily Brett always shoots his loads as high as possible up the wall", he said to himself. He pulled a fresh hanky from his pocket and let it soak up as much cum as possible. When he was done, he returned to his room and put the soaked fabric on his desk. He wrote the formula from the book on a piece of paper, according to the instructions. He then proceeded to reading the formula out loud: "Let the body of he who's fluids shall cover this page bond with mine. Let my body fourfold gain whatever mass he should obtain". He grabbed the hanky and rubbed it along the page, smearing his brother's cum onto the paper. In the car, a sudden wave of dizziness hit Brett. His vision went dark for a split second but then returned to normal. In his room, Jason felt an analogue sensation shoot through his own body. He hid the paper inside his desk. And then, the semester got underway. ------------------------------------------------------------ One month later. Brett indeed did well on the football team. He was among the best of the freshmen and everyone agreed that he could lead the team one day. He had become friends with most of the 'big five': the five biggest guys on the team, the group of seniors that dominated their part of the game. Four of them had invited him over for a drink after his first month on the team. The fifth, Mike, the star quarterback who led the team hadn't bothered. He didn't hang out with anyone on the team: his rich parents had rented him a flat off campus and his natural arrogance made him a first class jerk. But his skills on the football field combined with his 240 pounds of muscle made him an almost unstoppable force on the field. Even in the locker room his teammates moved away when he came in. The competitive spirit on the team drove Brett to the gym every day combined with his practice out on the field. Jason eased through his classes with little effort, studying punctually and avoiding the jocks. He didn't have any real friends as he kept to himself in the back of most classes and always returned home. The curse he'd cast on his brother did have positive effects: he'd put on 20 pound of pure muscle since the start of the academic year. At 175 pounds of defined muscle, he looked more like a fitness model when he took off his shirt. Even his face now looked more like that of an 18 year old with a more squared jaw line and the hint of a beard. He kept his new physique well hidden underneath baggy shirts he took from his brother's closet. Only back at home, he went into his brother's room, took off the baggy shirt and admired the new mass on his torso. Brett didn't understand why his body wasn't reacting to his training regime. He decided to up the intensity of his training: he doubled his daily workouts and upped his protein consumption drastically, gulping down shakes whenever he could. During his new early morning workouts, he frequently bumped into Mike in the otherwise deserted gym. The huge star player only nodded to him as he went through his workout. The effects of his brother's increased training were quickly visible on Jason's body. During the next two weeks, he put on another 20 pounds of muscle. His new weight (195 pounds) and muscular arms (17 inches) made him look like a very well muscled fitness model. The once baggy shirts from his brother's closet now hugged his torso nicely and he no longer hid his physique. More heads turned his way as he passed to his classes and even his dad made proud comments. He began drinking protein shakes from the tubes left in his brother's room. One day he even decided to join the local gym. A bit nervous he stepped in and went to the front desk. "What can I do for you?", the guy behind the desk asked. "I'm new here", Jason said, "I would like to join this gym." "You're obviously used to working out", the guy stated as he took in Jason's body, "I'll let you try out for free and we'll discuss the possibilities after you training. Locker room's over there." "Thanks", Jason said. He went into the locker room, changed and entered the gym. Three other guys were working out as he entered. They nodded to him as he went to the bench press. His body seemed to know what to do and the next hour, Jason eased through a good workout. By the end, his pecs and triceps were pumped. He showered quickly and went to the bar to order a shake. The same guy from the desk made him a protein shake. "Had a good workout I see", the guy said and motioned to Jason's pumped arms. "Yeah", Jason replied, "I think I'll join this gym." "Good", the guy stated, "Membership for a month? Or a year?" "Make it a year", Jason answered, "And I'll have another shake too." "There you go", the guy said, "All done. Hope to see you again soon." Jason gulped down his second protein shake and went home. It was the first of his daily visits to the gym. As the semester went on and got near the end, Brett's performance on the field began waning. His body lacked its usual level of energy, during practice he went from being the best among the freshmen to a good top five and in the gym most of his lifts were off. He still looked muscular but hadn't gained one single pound since arriving at Orchid University despite his grueling workout regime and the vast amount of protein he was ingesting. He was probably close to overtraining for once was happy that exams were coming up so he would have a break from training. --------------------------------------------------------------------- At the end of the semester Brett had passed his exams reasonably and was happy to return home for the holidays. He took a train home and arrived mid-afternoon. He entered the house and found his brother lying on the couch. "You're home early", Jason said as he sat up. Brett noticed his brother's deepened voice and blinked as he recognized the shirt. "Are you wearing one of my shirts?", he asked. "Yea", Jason replied, "Mine don't fit anymore since my recent growth spurt. Yours are fine. Bit tight though." Brett didn't respond but took in how the shirt clung to his formerly bony brother's torso. "Huh", he said as he noticed his brother was speaking. "I asked if ya want to go hit the gym. It's time for my workout", Jason repeated while he stood up. "You work out?", Brett asked incredulously. Despite feeling far from okay, he couldn't resist the chance of showing his grown brother who was the alpha. "Fine", he said, "I'll go change and I'll show ya how a real man trains, little bro." A few minutes later, Jason drove both of them to the gym in his new car. None of them spoke a word, the tension between the two brothers hanging in the air: Jason eager to show what his new muscles could do and Brett determined to highlight his dominance. They continued their silence as Jason parked the car and they walked into the gym. "Yo Sam", Jason said to the guy behind the desk, "Brought my bro today. Ya mind if he joins me?". "Bro, I used to train here. I'm a member. Still have my card", Brett interjected and handed his card to Sam. "Yar membership isn't active if ya didn't pay", Jason answered. "Card is no longer active", Sam read from the computer screen, "Do you want to reactivate you membership?". "He's only here for a week. Ya mind if he trains with me for free?", Jason asked. "No problem, J. I'll arrange it", Sam replied. "J?", Brett asked as they entered the locker room. "The guys around here call me J", Jason said and tossed his bag into the locker, "Let's toss some weight around". Brett followed his brother into the deserted gym up to the rack of dumbbells. "Friday is back", Jason said as he grabbed a pair of heavy dumbbells and began doing rows. Brett followed reluctantly: his back wasn't his strong point and his old level of energy was still lacking. He couldn't believe how easy his brother handled the heavy dumbbells. The guy kept cranking out reps when his back was burning from the effort and he dropped the dumbbells. The next hour Jason cruised through his workout while Brett struggled to keep up. Whenever Jason saw his brother grab a weight, he made sure to grab a heavier one and pump out more reps. "Something wrong, bro?", he asked as he saw Brett trying to catch his breath. "Feeling a bit tired from my trip home", Brett muttered in between deep breaths, "We're done yet?". "One more exercise, bro", Jason said and walked over to the pull up station. He grabbed the bar and performed 50 perfect reps. Brett looked at his brother in disbelief, watching the muscles on his wide back work. He nodded 'no' as his brother motioned him to start. "Come on, bro. Thought ya were gonna show me how a real man trains", Jason said smugly and folded his arms in front of his chest to emphasize the new thickness of his biceps. "Fine", Brett replied to maintain some of his old dominant pose. He grabbed the bar and pulled himself up. He tried to ignore how little fluent the motion looked compared to his brother. He reached 15 reps before his grip faltered and he jumped down. He avoided his brother's gaze while he sat down on a nearby bench. "I'm done", he mumbled exhaustedly. Jason just grinned and performed three more long sets of pull ups. "Let's call it a day, bro", he said and walked out of the gym, enjoying how his pumped lats pushed his arms out from his sides and added wideness to his posture. "Prepare me a shake for after my shower, Sam", he said as he passed the bar. Brett followed his brother, marveled at the formerly shy guy's new dominant attitude and the wideness of his frame. As they entered the locker room and begin stripping down, he felt like saying something to excuse his lame work out if he wanted to keep his dominant position in the family. "You're lucky I'm tired from my trip, Jason", he said, "If not you would have begged for mercy". The lack of conviction in his tone only emphasized the hollowness of his words and only diminished his dominance. "Tired. Right, bro", Jason added sarcastically. Savoring how his brother tried to ignore their new statuses. He didn't even bother to look aside and kept stripping down. Brett entered the shower first and went to the furthest shower head in the right corner. He faced the wall as he turned on the water. His mind still trying to process the new reality. A few moments later he heard another shower turning on and he cautiously turned his head a bit. He saw his brother standing under the shower in the center of the left wall. Jason wasn't facing the wall as he showered. Ever since he'd grown he didn't miss an opportunity to display his body. Brett glanced from the corner of his eyes, blinking when he saw his brother's biceps twitch as the guy washed his hair. He quickly turned his head back to the wall when his brother opened his eyes. "I'm gonna have my shake, bro. Don't take too long, I wanna get home for dinner. Gotta feed my body", Jason said and left the shower. A few minutes later Brett showed up in the bar. His brother was gulping down a second protein shake based on the other empty glass on the bar. "Yeah, up to 215 since last week", he heard Jason say to Sam as he approached. "Ya pay these shakes, bro. I got ya in for free. See ya tomorrow, Sam", Jason said and stood up. Brett quickly paid his brother's shakes and followed Jason to his car. Back home, Brett was greeted by his parents and the family enjoyed their first family dinner in months. Unlike before he'd left to Orchid University, Brett wasn't being served first. Jason took the biggest steak and the largest serving of potatoes. After the first serving, Jason and Brett reached for the steak that was left. A quick glance and a slight flex of his brother's right arm made Brett retreat his fork and he watched his brother devour the juicy steak. Just three months ago there would have been no question to whom would eat the last steak. Somehow his once lanky brother had become more dominant while Brett had been at Orchid University. As his brother helped himself to his third serving of potatoes, Brett excused himself and mumbled an excuse of being fatigued from his trip. "Hope ya're feeling better tomorrow for our work out, bro", Jason said with a full mouth. The next morning Brett did feel better when he got up. He went down and found his brother dressed in his workout gear at the table. "Feeling fresh, bro?", Jason asked and gulped down a protein shake. "Let's hit the gym and I'll show you", Brett spat back and made himself a shake too. "Can't wait", Jason replied with a grin. Just minutes later the two brothers drove off to the gym, greeted Sam and entered the weight room. "Arm day, Jason", Brett said and grabbed a 80 pound bar. This time he was going to make his brother follow his lead. He cranked out reps, enjoying the feeling of his biceps pumping. Brett just grinned and grabbed the 90 pound barbell as a warm up. He made sure to pump out 5 reps more than his brother. "Time for the real work", Brett stated and grabbed the 150 pound bar. He groaned and his face reddened instantly as he managed 8 reps. He dropped the bar and looked aside with a grin. The grin froze on his face as he saw his brother curling the 170 pound bar. Unlike him, his brother even managed three sets. "What's up next, bro?", Jason asked matter-off-factly. "Hammer curls", Brett said angrily and grabbed a pair of 80 pound dumbbells. After two reps the familiar feeling of fatigue and weakness began spreading in his biceps. At his sixth rep his biceps were burning painfully and he had to drop the weight. Jason shook his head, grabbed the 100 pound dumbbells and began pumping out reps casually. "…3,4,5,6,7,8…", he counted out loud to stress his new strength. He managed 12 nice reps before gently lowering the weight. Brett didn't want to go down without a fight and grabbed the 80 pounders again. This time the painful burning filled his biceps at the first reps. His arms shook, his body trembled as hoisted the dumbbells up. After three lousy reps, his grip gave out and the weights crashed down on the floor. "Watch it, bro. Sam doesn't like weights being thrown down. Show some respect.", Jason said while he began his second set. He once more performed 12 perfectly controlled reps before ending his set. "Next one", Brett said as he racked his dumbbells. "Not done just yet, bro", Jason replied and performed a third and fourth set just to show off his new position. It felt like he was getting more dominant with every rep he did. "Now we're done", he said after his fourth set. "Preacher curls", Brett muttered and stepped over to the machine. He selected a 100 pounds and began pumping out reps. Jason sat down on the adjacent machine, selected 200 pounds and followed his brother's lead. The competition was on and neither one wanted to quit first. After 20 reps, Brett's arms cramped up completely and he had to stop. His body felt completely drained. He looked aside and his eyes widened in disbelief as he saw his brother continuing his grueling set. Jason felt totally energized. His body fed on the energy of his brother that pushed him beyond his limits. "…35,36,37…38…39…40", he groaned and ended his set. The pump in his biceps was unreal. "That was fun, bro. Let's hit triceps now", he said and stood up. "Wh…what?", Brett blurred out in total disbelief. Jason grinned at his brother's reaction. "Sure thing, bro. Biceps are just half the work on arm day", he said and returned to the dumbbells. "Or are ya tired again?", he added. Brett followed his brother but didn't train anymore. He just handed him the weights he demanded. He felt his once dominant position weaken with every rep his brother performed and even handed him his towel when he asked for it. He simply watched After an hour, Jason finally decided that their workout was over. His arms were fully engorged, his biceps and triceps pumped after the torture he had put them through. "Can't even flex from the pump", he said as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. "Fine. Let's hit the shower. And bring my towel, bro", he stated and left. Brett grabbed his brother's towel and followed the guy. He gazed at the defined, hard triceps that jutted out from the back of his meaty arms. "Thanks, bro", Jason said as he grabbed the towel from his brother's hand and ripped his shirt off. "Can't get it over my head. My arms are too pumped", he said as he saw the shocked expression on his brother's face. "When ya train like a real man, ya swill feel this too", he added and strutted into the showers. Brett followed a few minutes later. He entered the shower zone and saw his brother standing in the center of the left wall, his body on full display for everyone. He looked away quickly when his brother made eye contact. He retreated to the furthest shower on the opposite wall and face the wall like the day before. Now and then, he turned his head slightly to peak at his brother. The way his biceps swelled as his brother massaged his hair made a faint 'wow' escape his mouth. He quickly turned his head back to the wall when his brother opened his eyes again. "Time for my shake. Don't make me wait, bro", Jason said while he left. Brett inhaled deeply when he was alone in the shower zone. The second training with his brother had made another deep dent in his once unquestionable dominant position. Deep down he knew he wasn't the alpha anymore but his brain refused to accept the new reality. He turned off the shower, got dressed and went to the bar. He blinked as he saw Sam feeling his brother's left arm. Jason noticed his brother. "Now ya know what a real arms feels like, Sam", he said and gulped down his second protein shake. He got up, winked to Sam and left. Brett wanted to follow his brother but was asked to pay for the shakes again. He did and followed his brother to his car. On the ride home, he took short glances at his brother's arms, watching the corded muscles on his forearms tense as he shifted gears. Back home he rushed into his room and didn't come out until dinner. As it was Christmas the next day, the gym was closed and Brett was relieved not having to join his brother again. At noon the family gathered for their traditional feast. The food was delicious and most of it ended up on Jason's plate. Everyone watched, the parents lovingly and Brett in disbelief, as Jason wolfed down serving after serving. "Ya done, bro?", he asked and took the half serving of meat lying on Brett's plate. When every dish was emptied, he patted his tight six-pack happily. "Gotta feed my body", he said, "Fuelling up for our workout tomorrow. Can't wait for it, bro". "Me too", Brett said unconvincingly. "I'm so glad you two finally share an interest and spent some time together. I'm proud of both of you", their father said. The next morning Brett found his brother once again waiting for him at the breakfast table. Minutes later they were driving toward the gym. As the previous times none of the brothers spoke a word and the tension hanging in the air was like a thunderstorm ready to explode. Both of them knew it would be a decisive moment: Brett was fighting to maintain his former dominance over his brother and Jason was ready to finally claim the top position as alpha of the family. They maintained their silence until they entered the weight room. "Let's smash chest", Jason said. He put on his usual warm up weight and cranked out 20 quick reps. "I'll show ya how it's done, bro", Brett said smugly and cranked out 20 equally fast reps. He knew that his chest was his best muscle group and he wasn't going to step down from the confrontation today. Jason added some weight to the bar and did his first working set of 12 solid reps. Brett followed suit. Jason continued adding weight to the bar after each set. After their third set Brett's chest was beginning to feel fatigued. He'd even one rep less than his brother. "Fourth set", Jason groaned as he pushed up the bar and cranked out another 8 reps. Brett got under the bar, pushed it up and felt his arms shake. He got to 5 reps before his pecs gave out and he re-racked the bar. He stood up, trying to catch his breath and felt his face turn red. "Not so strong after all", Jason said smugly. He added two more plates to the bar and got another solid 7 reps. "Put on some more weight, bro", he said as he laid down on the bar. Brett did as he was told and watched in disbelief as his brother pumped out 5 reps with the heavy bar. It was 30 pounds more than his own max. He felt his once undisputed position slipping away. "Dumbbell presses", Jason said as he stood up from the bench press and wandered over to the free weights. He grabbed the third heaviest pair and began his exercise. Brett followed suit but took a pair of considerably lighter dumbbells. "A bit over trained from football", he mumbled to his brother. Even with the lighter weights he couldn't pump out the reps of his brother. He dropped the weights to the floor and looked in disbelief as his brother grabbed the heaviest dumbbells. "Don't hurt yourself, bro. I never managed that weight", he said. Jason grinned and cranked out 8 solid reps, enjoying the feeling of the pump spreading through his chest. "Too bad they don't have any heavier dumbbells", he grunted as he did three more sets. He sat up, racked the dumbbells and went to the dipping station. "You go first, bro", he said, "ya had time to catch yar breath while I was still dumbbell pressing." Brett grabbed the handles and began dipping. He got 12 nice reps before his arms began shaking. He managed two more reps before jumping down. Jason grabbed the handles and copied his brother's movement. On his twelfth rep, he intentionally made his arms tremble. Then, he continued dipping. Brett's eyes widened as his brother passed the 30 rep point with perfect form. He felt the balance of dominance between them shift with every passing set. "50", Jason groaned and stepped down from the dipping station, "You're up, bro." Brett reluctantly grabbed the handles again. By now his chest felt totally exhausted but he couldn't give up just like that. He only got to 6 reps before his form faltered completely. Jason went through his second set, getting to another solid 40 reps. He stepped down and looked at his brother. Brett simply shook 'no' and pretended to suffer from cramp. His mind on the verge of accepting he had been knocked down by his once lanky brother. Jason blasted through three more sets of 35 dips. He inhaled deeply as he stepped down from the dipping station, his stretched tank top protesting with some tearing sounds as his pumped pecs inflated further. "Pec deck is up next, bro", he said. From that point on Brett simply followed his brother through the gym and watched as he pushed out rep after rep, and feeling him get more dominant with every rep. An hour after they'd arrived, Jason finished his fifth set of pushups and got up. His sweat-drenched tank top was glued to his pumped torso. "Enough for today", he grunted and walked toward the locker room, not even looking at his brother. None of the brothers spoke a word when they began stripping off their workout gear in the locker room. Both of them knowing that the balance of dominance had shifted completely and definitively. Brett's mind was still processing the acceptance of being taken down a notch and Jason was savoring in his new position. "Someone pumped his pecs today." Brett turned around at the remark and saw Sam entering the locker room and admiring his brother's chest. His eyes widened as the guy stepped up to his brother and groped the pumped mass of muscle atop his chest. "Ya like feeling a real chest, don't ya", Jason asked while he let the smaller guy worship his pecs. "Come on. Flex 'em, J.", Sam pleaded. Brett just stared at the unbelievable scene in front of him. Jason grinned and flexed his chest, making striations explode under the smaller guy's touch. "Ya know what to do, Sam", he said casually while he stared right into his brother's eyes. Brett's eyes widened when the smaller guy kneeled, slid down his brother's pants to reveal his plump cock and took it in his mouth. He couldn't believe what was happening right there in the center of the locker room. It was as if he wasn't there for those two guys and his brother kept staring directly into his eyes with a smug expression on his face. Within seconds Jason spilled his load into Sam's eager mouth. When his orgasm wore off, he pulled his cock from the guy's mouth and walked to the shower zone. "Don't ya need a shower, bro?", he asked as he passed his brother. Brett watched Sam stand up and disappear and followed his brother's example. The next morning Brett awoke late. His parents had already left for work and his brother was apparently still in his room as he walked into the bathroom. He ditched his boxers and entered the long walk-in shower. He turned on the shower and enjoyed the hot water cascading down on his body. A grin formed on his face as he thought back at the countless times he'd jerked off against the tilled wall. Lately even his morning wood seemed less hard than at the end of summer. A faint noise caught his attention and he turned off the water. He turned around and a yelp escaped his mouth as he saw his fully nude brother standing at the entrance of the walk-in shower. "What the fuck, Jason", he said angrily while he put his hands in front of his cock. "I asked if ya were done here, little bro", Jason replied grinningly. His deepened baritone easily rivaling his brother's deep voice. Brett didn't react to the 'little bro'. He just stared at his brother's grown body. Standing just a few feet away, his brother looked truly intimidating. Just a few months earlier no one would have told they were brothers: he outsized Jason by a good 60 pounds. Now the tables had turned. Despite being close to his brother's weight, Brett's 212 pounds seemed way less intimidating than Jason's 215 pounds. Brett's muscles seemed a bit saggy: his pecs hung slightly as if their weight pulled them down and his shoulders hunched forward making his posture lack his once usual aura of strength and confidence. Jason on the other hand radiated power: his pecs protruded firmly from his chest and his wide shoulders formed a strong line capped with his rounded delts. His now squared face added to his masculine look. The guy seemed to ooze power and confidence. Jason grinned smugly while his brother scanned his torso. "Miring my bod like after all our workouts in the gym shower, little bro?", he asked casually. Brett tore his gaze from the ripped six-pack and focused on his brother's eyes. He blinked when he realized he had to look up slightly to stare Jason in the eye. "I'm no longer just technically the bigger brother", Jason said, "How big are yar arms?". "18 inches", Brett replied and tensed his right arm to show off his size. "18.5 inches cold", Jason replied. He raised his arms and threw a double bicep pose to emphasize his point. Brett could only stare as his brother displayed his superior form. Ever since their workout the balance of dominance had shifted entirely in favor of his brother and now Brett felt how Jason was imposing his alpha-status completely. "What does half an inch really mean", he muttered unconvincingly. Jason hardened his flex some more in reply to his brother's remark. "We both know what it means, little bro", he groaned and relaxed his pose. "Besides, I'm bigger everywhere", he added. "Huh?", Brett muttered as he pretended not to know what his brother meant. Jason stepped closer while he casually stroked his cock, grabbed his brother's ass and pulled him in. Their hard cocks brushed against each other. "See what I mean, little bro?", he asked. Brett followed his brother's gaze down and inhaled sharply: his brother's cock pressed into his the base below his cock while his own cock lay atop his brother's dick without touching his brother's groin and didn't rival his brother's one in girth either. "See, little bro. Mine's longer and thicker than yours. I'm bigger everywhere!", Jason boomed and savored his new dominant status. His erection jolted underneath his brother's hard dick. Brett broke from his brother's grasp and took a step back. "How did you do it, Jason?", he asked, "you were a runt before I left and now you're…". "The bigger man, ya mean", Jason rumbled, "I cast a curse. When you train, my body gains the size you would have gained. The more ya train, the bigger I get. And ya can't stop training or ya'll lose yar scholarship. So, ya will only make me bigger and bigger, little bro." "Cursed me?", Brett let out, "You're just on steroids. Now get lost so I can shower in peace." "Ya're in no position to tell me what to do, little bro", Jason said, "How many times did ya storm in here when I was showering and told me to leave? Flexing yar arms to intimidate me? Mocking me with yar brawn being superior to me brain? Guess what, little bro: I have brains and brawn now. I'm the new alpha here. Ya should now yar new place." Brett retreated some more, his back pressing against the tilled wall. He had never felt this intimidated before and his once runty brother was doing it to him. He saw his brother come closer and reaching for him. He tried resisting but his weakened body was no match for his now buff brother. Jason easily pushed his brother's arms aside and grabbed his armpits. He turned his brother around and made him face the tilled wall. His 8,5 incher pointed straight at his brother's meaty ass. Brett put his hands against the tilled wall and tried pushing his body away from the wall but his brother held on to his armpits firmly. "Let me go, Jason. you can shower in peace", he mumbled. The words died on his lips as he felt the head of his brother's cock brush against his ass. "No", he mumbled. Jason ignored his brother's cries and shoved his dick into the tight hole. He moaned in pleasure as he busted through the clenched defenses and felt the ass clamp against his cock. "Please….", Brett pleaded in vain. Pain exploded through his body as his brother rammed his cock entirely into his ass. His hands clawed against the tilled walls and a high painful shriek escaped his mouth. "Ya're the little bro now. I'm the new alpha here", Jason moaned, grabbed hold of his brother's hips and began pumping his cock in and out of his brother's clenching ass. Tears leaked from Brett's eyes as his brother installed his total dominance. He felt humiliated beyond anything he'd ever felt. He felt his brother's hot breath against his neck and his brother's deep moans rumbled in his right ear with every thrust of the cock in his ass. His arms trembled and his entire body rocked on the rhythm of his brother's fucking. He looked down and to his horror he noticed that his own cock was at full mast and throbbing. Jason heard his brother's painful shrieks and they only excited him more. He was quickly getting close to orgasm and he felt his balls churning while he ravaged the ass of the brother who had physically dominated the family for years. The slow process of destroying his brother's dominance during their workouts and gradually stripping him of his old alphaness now culminated into fucking him into his new role while he assumed Brett's former position at the top of the family hierarchy. He pulled back his cock almost completely and then rammed it with full force into the clenching ass. "YEAH", he roared loudly as he exploded deep inside his brother. Brett shivered as his brother's spunk filled him with liquid heat and the violence of Jason's orgasm shook his own body violently. He felt spurt after spurt after spurt shoot inside him. At the same time his own cock exploded against the tilled wall. "Ughn", he grunted as his balls blasted out four loads of cum. His own moan drowning in the noise of his brother's deeper moans. Unlike before he didn't feel all-powerful as he came inside the shower, this time he felt nothing but shame. When his blasts stopped, his brother kept squirting his load into him. He felt the sticky juice slide along his legs while his body continued shaking on the rhythm of his brother's thrusts. After eight loads Jason's orgasm finally wore off and he pulled his dick from his brother's ass. "I don't expect to see ya in the gym today, little bro", he grunted and left his humiliated brother in the shower. Brett crashed down, his body destroyed from the fucking by his brother and cried inside the shower that had once made him feel untouchable.

As I slowly opened my eyes I also began to wake up. Yes, there's a double entendre there...well let me explain. He was sitting on the edge of the bed looking down at me. To say this beast of a man was huge was belittling any word that would be akin to describing his immense presence. Colossal is another word that is an injustice to him. He was the size of a God. Yep, like the ones in mythology, or the latest superhero movie. He was literally bigger than any man I had ever seen anywhere, let alone have known...and I'm all about huge muscular men. He was the size of the largest of grizzly bears and almost as furry as one. Even though he was, sort of, hunched over and sitting, I would fathom that he was at least 7...no...maybe closer to 8 feet tall. He upper body, which is what I could instantly see because his sleeveless flannel shirt was completely open , exposed a series of enormous hills and valleys of muscle that were swollen, comic book style, that seemingly took over half of the room. The weight of his chest made his nipples point toward the floor...and his nipples, Jesus; they were literally the size of a baby bottle nipple, but dark and covered with hair. My mouth began to water as I studied and began to imagine sucking on them. As I said, his plaid shirt was open, but I imagine it was for comfort more than showing off his body to me, since I would imagine that most clothes would barely fit this God. Even his pants were "mostly" loose, but I'll get into that in a moment. His arms and torso were covered in tats under his thick coat of fur and they lifted and shifted like images making love every time he moved or even breathed. I looked at his face, only for brief moments in between my raping stares of his body, to see one of the thickest, darkest beards where my tongue would get lost in its forest of density after sucking and kissing his plump thick lips and large mouth. His eyes were dark and intense as they seemingly bore a hole through me, deep into my soul. I could see that his forehead and the rest of his exposed skin had beads of moisture over him as he seemed to gleam with perspiration. As I watched one of the beads begin to trail down his neck, then to his chest and down the pec valley toward his navel, another sense...the sense of smell reminded me of the pure sexual nature of this beast. The musky smell of him was incredibly overpowering, but not offensive. He smelled like a man in every way, but not a dirty unclean man...more like a man who had just finished a huge workout and his testosterone was in overdrive. But this was not a normal man; I had to remind myself that I was not in the presence of someone normal. He was more, so much more. In fact, to retrace my thoughts a bit, as I woke up I had taken a large inhale of him even before my eyes were open and his pheromones hit me like wall which caused me to moan in an orgasmic bliss that took over my body and caused my cock to lightly shoot precum onto my belly. As of now having the realization that I was naked, spread eagle with my legs and arms tied to the bed posts. My cock was already rock hard and pulsating from the normal amount of inhaling his scent while I was unconscious. I also realized that I must have been precuming a lot since I could feel the wetness of small puddles that my pubic hair was soaking in. The fact that I loved bondage was only heightening my thrill and euphoria. My hole puckered on and off as well, begging to be violated, which like my cock was entirely uncontrollable. There was no denying that I was already under his spell with only two of my five senses being taken over. I longed to hear him speak, taste his body and feel him inside me. As I looked down further on him, he had on a green belt that was holding up blue nylon workout pants. While they were very loose around his mid-section his thighs and calves pushed the nylon fabric to a taunt unwrinkled smoothness, even showing the definition of them through the fabric. I exhaled out a hmmpf as I realized that his nylon pants looked more like spandex on him. My asshole puckered again. As I looked closer at the fabric, I noticed that the threads were beginning to tear, but not so much in a burst out of the clothes sort of way, more like they had been stretched to their limits so much that the nylon was beginning to unravel and rip. I'm sure if he would have wanted to, he could have just flexed and exploded out of them, but as with his shirt, i believe he wore these, not to impress, but to actually live in. By the looks of it, the shirt and pants might have been what he wore most all the time. As I said, I just can't imagine where a God like this would find normal clothes to wear. He was much larger than a 5XL or even an 8XL...Hell; I bet his actual size was more of a 15XL. But ALL of that wasn’t even the most amazingly and scary thing about him. Coming down his left leg, from his crotch, like a fully fed python, was a tubular mound that was at least as round as a 2 liter bottle and close to 2 feet long, possibly 20 inches. There was no mistaking that it was his cock, as it’s thick bulbous head could be seen through the fabric, but an even more amazing thing was that the nylon pants at the end had a wet spot that continued to become moistened by a flow coming from his cock head. The threads here were the most worn and I could literally see skin beneath. Following up the Drain pipe I marveled in the size of his balls that filled his crotch area, like a small animal in a bag that moved and pushed its way to get out. I imagined that the production of sperm was enough to fill a gallon jug every time he came. I took another large breath in as I gasped at the size of his cock and the thought of the amount of sperm and it hit me, like a train. My asshole clinched hard, my stomach tightened up and I screamed out in ecstasy as I convulsed in the strongest and longest orgasm of my life. A large glob of cum hit his left pec, dripping down onto his nipple and then down onto his massive thigh. The 2nd shot arched up and over my head, while the 3rd, 4th and 5th shot covered my face, “covered” being the optimal word. The last remaining ropes landed on my legs and torso. As I came, I knew that I had never had such an intense and copious amount of cum in my life and I continued to cum a strong flowing river, as my orgasm took almost a full minute before it was over. After I calmed down, even though my cock was still as rigid as a board, he began to speak and the sound of his low booming, but non-threatening voice satisfied my third sense, and possibly forth sense, as I could feel the vibrations of the words resonate inside my body. Every consonant, hit me like an inward motion of a fuck thrust penetrating me and filling me with warmth and I realized this was yet another way that he could literally make me cum if he were to speak louder. After the last orgasm, I was in need of a rest. He told me his name was Jake and, thankfully, he softly continued as he told me that he had found me floating in the river behind his house. It seemed I had crashed my car into the ravine and had been thrown from it. I tried to remember what had happened, but with 3 or 4 senses being controlled, my mind was not in much use to remember anything other then what was in front of me. Jake said he pulled me out of the river and had stripped me of my clothing so he could look at me to see if I had anything broken. When he realized that, physically I was okay; he picked me up and took me inside his house. Since he had already taken off my wet clothes, he noticed that my cock began to harden and he knew what was about to happen, so he put me in his bed. As soon as I was in bed he said that I began to flay about with my arms and legs as I began my "state of bliss" as he called it, so he tied me down, so I wouldn’t injure myself. That’s when my cock began to shoot precum and he couldn’t help but stare at me. He said he was sorry that he was getting excited watching me and that his body pours a very heavy amount of pheromones into the air, when he gets horny, which he slightly moaned and said was almost constantly. That moan, caused electrical currents racing through me and my cock began to fountain again. This time, luckily, it wasn't as huge of an orgasm as before, but nonetheless, it was the second most powerful one I had ever experienced. When I finally calmed down, he turned to look away from me and then, he looked down, as if he were almost sad and said that he knows he is an outcast and that no one would ever be able to love him. Jake said that they only use him and he hates them for it. I asked him if he could tell me more about it. He told me that he has lived alone for the past several years and that his only outlet is when they come to take him to the base to use him. I asked him why and he hesitated, but then began to tell me that about 5 years ago, he used to work at the biochemical plant over the mountain ridge and there was an accident one day. He told me he was one of their chemists and they were working on a new formula using the sun and some airborne chemicals from space and animal, most Bull, Bison and Bear hormones, to help grow plants to provide added nutrients for the world hunger population. They were crossing it with a new type of laser that breaks down the space and "3B" particles when there was a leak in the containment unit holding the particles, sunlight and hormones. He was asked to suit up and go in and fix the leak before the continued. He said that when he went into the containment unit there was an explosion and he was exposed to the combined elements, which must have changed his chemical makeup and caused him to grow to be like he was now. From the moment he awoke after the explosion, he could feel his body changing, but he wasn't sure what was going on as he was still very foggy and his vision was clouded. He got up and walked over to the exit of the containment unit but that his colleges wouldn't open the door to let him out. He said the look on their faces were of awe and fear. That's when he realized he was naked and huge. He said that almost instantly, his sight improved and he could feel the power inside him rise. Jake said that every sense, emotion and physical trait that a person could have, accelerated and gained 100 fold inside him. He became smarter as his mind and thoughts expanded. The first sense that he realized was at a pinnacle was his vision. It was so good, that he could see through things as he realized he was able to see his follow colleges though the steel wall separating them and he could see them looking at the monitor as they watched him. Jake knew his brain was at about 85% enlightenment, unlike that of only 10% of what a normal human would use, as he actually felt what his three friends were feeling. Alex was in shock, but also in bewilderment. He was envious of Jake and his new body, but he was also fearful. Johnathan was frightened as well, but he was sad and upset about what was happening to Jake. He was immediately thinking of ways to reverse what had happened. Then there was Stu, who was Jake's best friend. Stu was feeling awe and fear as the other two were, but Stu also had a huge desire for Jake. He could feel Stu getting aroused and he literally felt his own cock harden as Stu's did. Even though Stu had a wife and 2 kids, he couldn't help his attraction as he reached full erection and came in his lab pants. Jake looked up at the camera and smiled. He knew that he had caused this and he wanted the other two to feel the same. That's when he felt the power of inhuman strength course through him and knowing that he was strong, probably stronger than anyone on Earth, that he grabbed the door, pulled it off like a piece of scotch tape and flung it aside. He walked out into the same room as his colleges and noticed that even though Alex and Jonathan had begun to run away, they had to cross in front of Jake and his scent hit them. Immediately the two men fell onto the ground, writhing in orgasmic bliss as they both exploded their seed. Jake as well as his colleges had never been homosexual before, but at least for his colleges, there was no escaping Jake's pheromones and sexual dominance over them. Jake himself, hadn't turned gay, but was now Omnisexual or better yet for a lack of word, Alphasexual as there would be no one in the world that if he was attracted to, was completely under his spell and willing to be his sexually. He literally could make someone cum on command either using his mind, body, or scent. After Alex and Jonathan came, both men passed out. Because Stu was so infatuated with Jake, he walked up to the new Alpha and asked how he could please him. Jake decided to use Stu as his first lover. Over the course of the next 3 hours, Jake gave Stu numerous orgasms and was in complete control over the man. That's when he decided to change Stu as well. He now, instinctively, knew that his cum would change Stu to become more like himself, but he knew that if he were to fuck the man, that he would kill him. That's when he began, 'the process" as he called it. He would regulate the amount of cum that Stu would ingest orally causing Stu's own chemical make up to change and grow, making it possible for Jake to enter Stu and fill him with a full load to change Stu completely. After Stu's last oral intake, he was ready to receive Jake's cock. Just as they were about to begin, Jake felt a small pain in the back close to his kidneys. Then as the room began to go dark, he saw a group of military men with Hannibal rifles, which are enough to stop a rhino and he knew that they had used them on him, to tranquilize him. As his powers were still novice, the tranqs seem to do their job. When Jake awoke, he was undergoing a series of tests and over the course of several months; he was the military's guinea pig. They probed him and took samples of his blood and cum. Most of the time, they used machines to get the samples, as Jake's body and existence caused any human in the room to become his plaything. Sure he couldn't fuck them, but it was fun for Jake, when a new soldier had to go in the same room as him and they'd lose all their ability to resist him. He would make them cum over and over, until someone could pull them out of the room. When they had realized that he would cooperate, they released him from his "prison' and began testing "the process". Within a week, the military had been using his cum to grow men at their compound. In less than a month the had an army of over 1000 of Jake's "minions". The one thing that they couldn't do was control them. That was completely up to Jake. He is still larger and he was their master. When he would stay at the compound for a week at a time, he would constantly be "upgrading" his men...upgrading was the word the military used for fucking them and filling them with his growth cum. This also benefited Jake, to which his sexual appetite was always in overdrive and if it wasn't satisfied almost every day, Jake would become easily agitated and his anger would cause issues...broken equipment, broken jeeps, broken building but most importantly, broken humans. You see, when Jake wasn't physically and sexually satisfied, he was an unstoppable fucking machine, fucking and killing those that have not gone through "the process". That's when Jake realized he wanted or needed a partner, a lover, someone to care about. He hadn't seen Stu since the fateful day he changed and as far as he knew, Stu had left the area. Jake wanted someone that actually was in love with him and that he could return that love. That is why he was sitting on the edge of the bed, when I awoke, looking at me like I was his. I would be the one that would be with him and love him and he loves me. It was just that way. Plainly, he just knows things and he knows that when he saw me, that I was going to be his partner. It's just as simple as that...or so he thought. I looked up at him and I was angry. Angry to what had happened to him, but angrier that suddenly, I felt as though I was his project. I was the one that was going to make HIS life better. What about my life? Did he even care about what I wanted? Were my desires and wants in life going to even matter? Sure, I was completely smitten over him, but Hell, I had a mind too. I wasn't just going to be his love slave, his concubine. I wasn't just going to be his Cum Reliever!! FUCK THAT!! And then I began to do my best to get out of the restraints that he had me bound with. At first nothing happened and Jake just looked at me and smiled. I figured he knew that he had me, but it only made me angrier. I began to tug and pull on them and began to hear wood beginning to splinter. I surprised myself when I was able to tear off one of the bed posts with my left leg. Then the right one broke. A new feeling began to take me over; A feeling of strength. I felt a power in me rise and I felt my body expanding. Snap, the left arm tight broke off. I could feel my muscles growing and I looked at myself as my body began to transform. My cock was expanding as well, in length and girth. What once was a proud 8 incher was now already 11 inches long and about 8 inches thick. I felt my testosterone level go through the roof and SNAP, the right arm broke free. This one snapped like I had just broken a spider web, there was no effort involved. Then, Jake put his hand on my chest and held me there as I grew. At this point, even with all the strength that I was gaining and the growing size I was having, I couldn't move out from under him. Then he leaned down to me and kissed me. Electricity ran through my entire body, charging me up even more, causing me to grow even more and faster. Immediately I began to uncontrollably cum again as I had never felt so close and in sync with someone in my life. It was his bare skin against my skin and that's when I knew, I loved him. He took his hand off of me and as soon as I was free, I climbed onto him, feeling his immense cock below my ass and we embraced. My newly rock hard ass was quickly drenched in his precum as he began to shoot it out and I moaned again as I reached a third climax, covering our torsos between us. I told him, that I wished that he could fuck me, and he smiled. He said that he would, but first he asked if I would put my mouth over his cock to take in his cum. He said that he had given me my first amount when I was unconscious and he needed to complete the process so we would be able to make love after I did that. I climbed off of him so that he could take off his pants and his shirt as well. As he did, I kissed and licked his massive muscular arms and I sucked on his nipples, continuing to take in his musky scent causing me to almost lose consciousness this time as I shot another load. At this point, my growth had ebbed, but not my desire, which only increased. I began to cum without stopping. It wasn't spurt after spurt, but more of a consistent oozing pouring out of my cock hole. Still, internally, I was completely in a constant state of orgasm. Jake sensed this and he picked me up off of him so he could get his pants off and he laid me on my back, with my face under his crotch. Before removing his pants, he chuckled and said “poor defensiveness boy, as soon as you take my 2nd load of cum, you’ll be able hold your orgasms until you want to release them.” He added, “I’m going to change you and make you grow, not with just the muscle and size that you have already, but your mind will expand and your body will be do things no other human on Earth will do...not even the men at the base. I have held this back for the one who will be my partner. I know you think you will be my slave, but I do not want that. I want you as my equal. I want us to be the only God's on Earth. Even though you are now much stronger and bigger and you could take me inside you, I want you to have the complete enlightenment that I have. Yes, like the men at the base, you will become mine...a part of me will be you and all of you will be me. But, you will be different than them...you will be more...more of everything. More like me...more than just a human....more than a human...you will be a god and anyone who comes in contact with you will desire you. But you will be my mate...your life as you know it is no longer. We are omnipotent. I will control you and in turn you can control me...all of you!!! Do you wish this?” I nodded yes as I asked him, how this is even possible. That it felt like a dream or some wild fantasy of mine coming true and he laughed as he pulled down his pants showing me his massive cock as it sprung out showering me with his juice and the second it hit me, I again, orgasmed uncontrollably. By this time, I was just about dried out and only small darts of cum escaped my cock. Still the feeling was just as incredible. A steady flow of clear liquid came from the huge mushroom head, dripping down onto my lips. Then he asked if I was still dreaming. I told him....no...I pleaded for him to let me complete the change. He told me to open my mouth as wide as I could and I did. I tilted my head back and up and put my mouth over the slit in his cock head as he lowered it into my mouth. The slit was so large that my lips barely covered it with my open mouth. Then he told me to brace myself, by hold onto his ass or legs and to not let go. I did and soon I could feel heat rising up his cock shaft... ...Chapter 2 begins below

Four Assistant coach Mr. Blake heard the door of his desk shut behind the massive gymnast and he slowly got up, his arms trembling as they supported his weight. More cum flowed from his ravaged ass and dripped along his legs. He pulled up his boxers and pants and wiped the stains of his own cum from the front of his desk. He'd somehow had to come up with a way of getting back Tyler's muscle from the hulking freshman. He needed to act fast to get a star player out on the field for the upcoming match. He inhaled deeply as his mind tried to find a solution. The next morning assistant coach Mr. Blake was setting up workout routines for the team when a faint knock made him look at the door. "Yes", he said. Tyler opened the door. "Can I come in?", he asked. He entered as the assistant coach motioned him to sit down. "I spoke with Chad yesterday", he peeped, "I wanted to make him give back my muscles". "How did it go?", assistant coach Mr. Blake replied. "Well…", Tyler mumbled. His face turned beet red as he relived the scene of sucking off the huge man. His pencil dick jolted in his pants as his mind filled with the image of the muscular perfection Chad had grown into. "He …eum… well… he wouldn't listen", he mumbled. "Thought so", the coach answered and ignored the red glow on the fallen football player's cheeks. "Did you already speak to him?", Tyler asked. Now it was the assistant coach's turn to blush. "Hum", he said and cleared his throat as he moved in his chair, his worn out ass sending shots of pain through him in response to remind him of the encounter with Chad. "I… tried", he added, "but he didn't listen either. I tried convincing him to give your muscle back but he refused. He didn't even wanted to join the team and put his muscle to use". "His muscle?", Tyler peeped angrily, "My muscle! I will go to the dean. He will force Chad to give back my muscle!". "No!", assistant coach Mr. Blake let out loudly, "That's a very bad idea. Think how the dean will react when you tell him someone stole your muscles. He will probably think you're on drugs. You will get expelled". "I will show him pictures of me. And of Chad", Tyler said. "You will have to admit you stole Chad's muscles first", the assistant coach replied, "Besides I'll lose my job if you reveal that I experimented on students. Then you will never have a chance to get your muscles back." The harsh reality of Mr. Blake's words hailed down on Tyler. Tears welled up in the diminished athlete's eyes. His mind frantically trying to find a way to get back his former size. "Tom", he peeped suddenly. "What about Tom?", assistant coach Mr. Blake answered. "He's my best friend", Tyler spat out rapidly, "If we tell him what happened, he'll help." "How could he help?", assistant coach Mr. Blake asked doubtfully. "He's among the biggest guys on campus. He could easily beat up Chad. Then we could force him to give back my muscles", Tyler said with a grin. "I don't know", assistant coach Mr. Blake replied, "Chad's a few pounds heavier than Tom now". "If we take him by surprise, Tom can take him. I'm sure of it", Tyler stated. The more assistant coach Mr. Blake let the idea run through his mind, the more he liked it. It wasn't a nice solution, but it was their only chance. He did remember the statement of the head coach that not winning the title this year would cost him his job. He nodded slowly as he accepted the plan. "Text Tom to come to my office asap", he said to the now smiling Tyler. Chad opened the door of his room and stared down on his two neighbors. "What's up, boys?", he asked. Keith and Paul took a step backward instinctively. The two freshmen were totally intimidated by the hulking, bare-chested gymnast that filled the opening completely. "We brought ya something", Keith said and handed a bag to Chad. "Saw it and thought it would suit ya", Paul added. Chad took the bag, opened it and pulled a tank top from it. A smug grin formed on his face as he recognized the Captain America logo. "Come on in", he said and stepped back in his room. Keith and Paul entered. They stared at the hulking man who put on the tank top. "Hope it fits. Biggest size we could find", Keith stated. "Bit tight", Chad rumbled and let his meaty muscle stretch the skintight fabric. "Fuck. You would dwarf the actual Captain America", Paul said in total awe, "How big are your arms?". "Not sure", Chad replied, "Haven't measured them recently. Ya boys wanna check them? There's a tape in my desk". Keith and Paul rushed over to the desk, nearly pulling out the top drawer as they practically fought for the tape. "Easy there, boys", Chad said laughingly, "there's enough of me for both of ya". Paul snatched the tape from Keith's grasp and stepped up to the massive man. His heart pounding nervously as he stood in front of the hulking gymnast. "Seems like you won", Chad rumbled and held out his right arm. Paul's hand shook with anticipation as he placed the tape atop the meaty arm. His fingers roamed the bulk of the stretched, yet rounded bicep. Keith eagerly joined in, letting his fingers follow the thick vein at the side of the bicep. "Thought ya wanted to measure my arm", Chad said smugly as the two freshmen worshipped his stretched arm. He slowly raised his forearm, making his bicep mound upward in the process. Keith and Paul marveled as the steely meat under their fingers hardened and rose upward and outward. Paul clumsily dropped the tape as the perfectly round orb of beefy muscle flexed into its full size. He and Keith stared in disbelief at the ball of striated, vein-crossed muscle. "Well. Measure it!", Chad barked at the frozen freshmen. Paul retrieved the tape and wrapped it around the insanely muscled arm. He pulled it tight and his eyes widened as he read off the number. "24 inches", he muttered and joined Keith in his touching of the hot, stone-hard ball of muscle. "Fuck yeah", Chad roared, "Ever felt an arm this big and hard, boys?". He hardened his flex some more. Keith and Paul couldn't believe the hardness of the bicep under their touch. No matter how they tried, they couldn't dent the surface. Instead the muscle pried open their hands as it hardened even more. Their cocks had hardened fully in their pants just from touching the statue-like bicep. Chad enjoyed having his arm worshipped beyond anything he'd ever felt. The thought of making everyone he met lust after him sent a jolt through his own cock. "Mmhm", he groaned as Paul's hands slid under his tank top and explored the ridges of his mighty eight-pack while Keith kept feeling his bicep. Suddenly the door of the room flew open and Tom stood in the doorway. He'd come to the assistant coach's office right away when he'd gotten Tyler's text earlier. He'd listened with a perplexed look on his face to the incredible story Mr. Blake had told him. If the runty Tyler hadn't been standing next to the assistant coach, he would have never believed the story. "We'll make him give back your muscle. No one messes with my friends", he'd yelled as he'd stormed out of the assistant coach's office. "I hope I'm not interrupting the fags", he spat out sarcastically as he entered the room. Keith and Paul retreated against the furthest wall when they saw the angry look on the team captain's face. They knew they didn't stand a chance against the way bigger man. Chad just looked back at Tom, taking in the man's size. "You stole Tyler's muscle. Give them back. NOW!", Tom shouted angrily. "Okay. Okay", Chad pleaded, "I'll give it back. Please don't hurt me". He noticed Tyler and assistant coach Mr. Blake also entering behind Tom. "Really?", Tom asked incredulously, taking aback by the lack of resistance. "Off course not, dumbass", Chad barked in response, "You didn't really think I would give up my muscles?". "Have it your way then", Tom replied and smacked his right fist into the palm of his left hand, "I'm gonna enjoy this". "Careful, Tom", Tyler peeped as he drank in the sight of Chad's muscles stretching the tank top. Tom sized up the other big man and noted he was a few inches taller than the guy. "Don't worry, man. Short guys always look bigger than they are", he said to comfort his friend. He took a step toward his opponent. Chad didn't wait for the huge football player's first move. With an unexpected agility for a man his size he jumped forward. He pulled back his right fist, his thick bicep balling up in the process, and launched it against the athlete's stomach. Tom didn't even have time to blink. One moment he saw the hulking gymnast standing at the end of his bed, the next the guy's fist collided with his abs. The punch felt like a wrecking ball as it hit him. It blasted through the defenses of his muscle gut, busted his abs and pushed the wind out of him. He bent over by the force of the impact. He inhaled deeply to fill his lungs again while his eyes darted up to see the second punch coming. The steely fist hit his muscle gut again and sank deep into the battered abs. He folded double completely as pain exploded from his agonizing stomach through his entire body. Black dots danced before his eyes as the air was once more knocked out of him. He didn't even see the third punch coming. He just felt the impact as the fist hit the bottom of his chin. The force of the blow sent him stumbling backwards until his wide back fell against the wall. He wrapped an arm around his agonizing stomach in protection and raised his other arm in defense while he tried to catch his breath. He couldn't believe the huge gymnast had nearly taken him out with just three blows. His mind urged him to get away, but his legs didn't respond. He looked up into the hulking man's eyes. Chad saw the hint of panic in the big athlete's eyes and swiftly moved in. He threw another punch in the red stomach. Tom folded double as steely fist destroyed his abs and excruciating pain exploded through his body. The moment he bent over, he felt a large paw grab his throat. His hands clutched at the meaty forearm while he felt his body being lifted up. The next moment his feet left the ground, the room seemed to spin around and he was slammed down hard. He yelped in pain as his back collided with the hard floor. Assistant coach Mr. Blake stepped in but a nod of Chad made Paul and Keith each grab one of his arms. He tried to resist but the two athletes held him secured. Chad looked down in triumph on the beaten athlete. He felt all-powerful having taken down the star football player. An idea formed in his mind. "Tyler", he barked at the runty boy, "Bring me the device and the electrodes". Tyler jumped up at the command and went over to the assistant coach. He fished the device and the electrodes from Mr. Blake's pocket and turned around to give them to Chad. In the meantime Chad had ripped off Tom's clothes and tossed the bulky athlete atop his bed. He was stripping off his own boxers as Tyler came standing next to him. "Who looks better?", he asked laughingly and took the device from the boy. Tyler's eyes shot from the nude Tom atop the bed to the equally nude Chad standing at the end of it. His friend was a big, bulky guy but Chad's insanely ripped muscles made him actually look somehow fat. Chad placed an electrode on the top of Tom's meaty pecs and the other one on the same place on his own protruding chest. He tossed the device to Paul who caught it in his left hand while still holding onto the assistant coach's arm with his right hand. "Switch it on", he barked to the smaller freshman while he kneeled at the end of the bed and placed his paws atop the thick pecs. Paul did as he was told and the device in his hand peeped, displaying "Transfer engaged!". Tom wiggled in the bed but the huge gymnast firm grip on his pecs held him down. He didn't know what was happening. He blinked as he thought what was a spark shot from his chest and disappeared into the electrode on the other huge man's chest. "Fuck yeah", Chad growled as the sparks shot into him and formed a steady flow of energy feeding his already huge muscles. The battered athlete on the bed didn't have enough strength left to resist his theft. He dug his hands firmly into the already softer pecs to increase the flow of power. "You're so full of power!", he moaned in pleasure as the warmth spread through his 248 pound body. Tom didn't capture what was going on. His mind was still trying to comprehend how the huge gymnast had taken him out so quickly. When he finally realized that the other athlete was taking his muscles, he tried fighting back but his defenses were simply too weak. "Please Chad. No", he pleaded in vain. He looked at the guy's face and saw a look of pure hunger in the icy blue eyes. Chad, now growing past the 270 pound mark, enjoyed the intoxicating feeling. He saw the fight in the football player's eyes, the fight to keep his muscles from melting away from his body. He looked at the body in his grasp atop the bed and noticed that the curly hairs were retreating into the ever softening pecs he held tightly. "MORE", he growled and dug his fingers into the pecs. The flow of power doubled temporally and decreased back after a couple of seconds. "FUARK", he roared the moment the increased jolt of power hit his body. A wave of energy surged through his body and every muscle hardened and increased in size. The other guy's in the room stared like moths to a flame to the swelling and widening back of the kneeling gymnast. The assistant coach wasn't even resisting the two freshmen anymore. Tom's body, a bulky 243 pounds just minutes ago, dove below the 200 pound mark as the sparks kept shooting from his chest. He kept fighting against the drain but his resistance was completely overpowered by the growing gymnast. He had an incredible sight on the swelling body in front of him but he didn't feel the slightest awe. All he wanted was get away and save his muscles from being taken. Chad was closing in on the 300 pound barrier, every muscle on his body inflating steadily. Hard, striated mass pushed up the veins against his ever tightening skin. "I'm getting so HUGE", he bellowed as he looked down at his growing pecs. The shelf of meat now protruded several inches from his chest. "Give it ALL", he bellowed in his unstopping lust for size. His fingers now totally overpowered the once might pecs beneath them and dug deeper into them. "YEAH", he groaned as the flow of sparks feeding him increased some more. Tyler felt sorry for his best friend but his gaze was fixed on the growing mounds of meat flowing into each other on the broadening back of the kneeling gymnast. He could also see the hulking man's thick triceps inflating bigger and bigger at the sides of his mighty arms. Further down, the kneeling gymnast meaty ass got meatier and meatier with every passing second. His own dick was fully hard in his pants again. Paul and Keith had released assistant coach Mr. Blake's arms and were also staring in pure awe at the growth of the hulking freshman. Mr. Blake didn't think about running away or rushing in to free his star player. Like the others, he could only stare at the incredible scene. Tom looked past the hulking gymnast at his friend Tyler and assistant coach Mr. Blake. "Help me", he pleaded and closed his eyes as fatigue and exhaustion began spreading through his weakening body. A good minute later he reopened his eyes to implore help again. He blinked in disbelief: the time he had closed his eyes, the gymnast had grown taller and wider and now totally blocked his view from the rest of the room. Chad stared down at the body in his grasp: the once 243 pound star football player now looked like bulky wrestler as his body sank below 180 pounds. The curly hairs that used to cover Tom's meaty pecs had retreated completely in the now flabby chest. Chad threw back his head in ecstasy and let the energy whirl around inside his beastly body. He broke past the 315 pound mark as the energy found its way into this ever growing muscles. Tom realized he wouldn't get any help. He summoned his force to get away from the beastly freshman feeding on his size. He moved his arms up and grabbed the wrists to tear the paws away from his chest. When he placed his hands onto the hot wrists, he noticed he couldn't close his grip around the freshman's thick wrists. He pulled with all his remaining might but it felt like he was trying to rip a tree from the ground with his bare hands. He look back up, past the further protruding rack of pecs to the face of the beastly gymnast. Chad felt the weak tugs on his wrists and slowly turned his head down. He looked down at his paws and saw the frail hands grabbing onto his wrists. A smirk formed on his lips at the sight of the hands that looked comically small compared to his own forearms covered with thick cords of meaty muscle. His gaze travelled along the diminishing torso in his grasp: the bulky star athlete atop the bed now looked like a swimmer as definition and beef kept being sucked from him. Unlike with Tyler earlier, he didn't notice the look of lust in Tom's eyes: the guy was still trying to fight back against the drain. Tom stared back into the icy blue eyes of the now truly huge freshman. He kept pulling at the wrists but the strong forearms didn't budge. His own body now sank under 165 pounds while the gymnast grew past the 330 mark. He knew he was no match for the biggest man he'd ever seen. He felt more fatigue spreading through his weakening body. "Chad", he peeped weakly, "Chad. Let me go… Please. Keep the muscle… but let me… have the muscle… I still have… please". Chad didn't take his eyes from Tom's. He saw the pleading look as the guy in his grasp realized that his resistance was useless. His own body was now more than twice the size of the fallen star athlete. He felt his mighty muscles push against his paper-thin skin as the striated and vein covered mounds amassed more size. His fingers felt the soft mass of the flabby tits beneath them. "More", he rumbled in his deepened bass and dug his fingers hard into the jelly-like pecs, forcing more sparks from the flattening chest into his own hulking pecs. Tom took in the craving for size in the icy blue eyes staring down on him. He knew nothing would the beastly freshman from taking anything he wanted. He could feel the wrists in his grasp thickening further as the corded muscles etching along the beefy forearms kept swelling. He looked down on his own body and was confronted with the new reality: he was now 90 pounds lighter than minutes earlier and the layer of fat that gave him his bulky appearance now made him look more like a fatso. Tyler couldn't see his best friend anymore as the ever widening back of the kneeling gymnast hid the captain of the football team from his sight. His cock was leaking precum in his briefs at the sight of the majestic back he was facing. His left hand reached down his pants and stroked his 3 incher instinctively. A beeping sound made Paul look down at the device in his hand. "Subject reaching natural limits", he read from the screen. He stepped up to the kneeling gymnast. "Hm, Chad", he said nervously as he stood next to the massive freshman, "You're maxing out." Chad heard the remark but only noted the remaining mass in the diminished athlete on the bed. "MORE", he rumbled and concentrated on draining every ounce of muscle into his body. Tom's exhausted resistance crumbled under the increased theft and the last muscles in his body rushed into his chest, converged into pure energy and blasted through the electrode. "FUARK", Chad roared as the flow of energy tripled in size and struck him like lightning. He felt and heard his skin stretch as his mighty muscles ballooned bigger with more mass all at once. "Overload", the device in Paul's hand displayed and it exploded. The excess power circling around the electrode on Chad's chest shot into the device. "Ughn", Paul groaned as the energy shot in to his body. His shirt ripped under the sudden growth of his body. He stumbled backward by the impact. Everyone in the room went silent as Chad stood up and rose to his full height. His insanely broad back was covered with meaty mounds of muscle that fought for room, his beefy ass looked like someone had shoved two volleyballs underneath his skin, his titanic triceps formed massive horseshoes of hard muscle at the back of his lengthy arms. They all inhaled deeply as the colossal freshman turned around to face them. "Fuck ya guys are small", Chad laughed out as he stared down. His deep bass rumbled like thunder through the room, a mighty sound fitted for a 7'2, 368 pound muscle god. Every muscle on Chad's body jutted out from his frame, round and full. His incredible wide shoulders, that gave him an intimidating v-taper, were capped with delts the size of small pumpkins: every head of the striated muscles was clearly visible against his skin; his monstrous pecs were the size of half watermelons, jutting out nearly a foot from his chest, the hard mounds of striated beef defied the pull of gravity and obscured the top of his abs, his nipples pointed down to the floor; his majestic stomach were a landscape of deep grooves separating eight cobblestone-sized abs that rippled on the rhythm of the beastly man's breathing; his astonishing arms hung meaty hams at his sides, the long, rounded, hard yet fully relaxed biceps were crisscrossed with a web of veins and seemed ready to exploded through the paper-thin skin; his tree-sized quads formed two strong pillars of massive muscle, every head of the quadriceps clearly defined; his calves jutted out like beefy diamonds at the back of his legs; between the thick quads a long, meaty snake dangled atop a pairs of egg-sized balls. Atop the beastly body, supported by mounding, beefy traps Chad's face had followed his body's transformation: his rounded, boyish looks had been replaced by a strong, square jaw line covered with a coarse five o clock beard. The air around the beastly freshman seemed to ripple as masculinity oozed from him. "FUARK YEAH!", Chad boomed as he raised his arms into a double bicep pose. His biceps exploded upward and outward, hardening into pineapple-sized orbs of hard beef covered in veins. His skin stretched as the arms reached their new, 31 inch size. The others in the room creamed their pants at the display of pure muscular perfection. "You grew too", Chad said as he lowered his arms and looked down on Paul. He swiftly ripped away the remnants of the guy's destroyed shirt, then proceeded with is pants and boxers. "Nice, man" he said as he took in the new size of the 6'2, 205 pound freshman. Paul shivered. Despite being the second most muscular man in the room, he looked like a twig standing next to beastly muscle god. He instinctively kneeled in front of the man and took his plump cock in to his mouth. "We're gonna have an awesome year", Chad growled as he grabbed the back of the guy's head and let him suck his cock.

First Chapter: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/1131-transformation-part-i-mutation-chapter-one/ Previous Chapter: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12351-transformation-part-i-mutation-chapter-fourteen/ Author’s note: This is the final chapter of Part 1. Waaayyyyy late. As a reminder, the story takes place in 2011 with flashbacks to 2001. CHAPTER FIFTEEN The air was thick with nervous anticipation as the rumble of the low-flying passenger jet faded. I wondered if Manhattan had ever been so quiet. If it was maintaining the same direction we had observed, it flew south along Fifth Avenue. I wondered how long it would take it to reach 34th Street and then how long the sound of the feared impact would take to return to Sheep Meadow. I felt Matt looking at me and turned to face him. His face was completely white. “Now,” he said without emotion … and right on cue, echoing up the canyons of Fifth and Sixth Avenues, rolled the distorted, metallic and seemingly inevitable … BOOM. Cries. Shrieks. Disbelief. Confusion. Already I have failed to protect them. I watched as the vast and closely packed mass of people grew restless. Some turned to me, I assumed for direction or to see how I would respond. Others were pushing toward the east, presumably to look southward on Fifth for visual confirmation of what we all feared. Matt was furiously poking at his iPhone. I still had no idea what to do and looked at Hank. “If they start to panic, you gotta shut ‘em down,” he said as if sensing my need for direction. “People will get trampled,” I said. He nodded slowly. “You worried ‘bout that?” His question almost hurt. “Of course I am,” I said defensively. “I’m probably the most compassionate person you know.” “Not when that switch flips in your head.” He was right but I had no answer for him. I ignored his observation and had decided to make my way over to Fifth Avenue when Matt announced what everyone had most feared. His face twisted with desperation, he held up his iPhone so that I could see the screen and looked at me. “It hit the Empire State Building.” Thousands of voices filled the air as people began shoving in all directions. …the air filled with screams and shrieks. A woman very near me was yelling “Oh my god! Oh my god!” repeatedly. I felt the ground vibrate and turned my head to the left in time to see the South Tower collapsing in on itself with a thunderous roar. I stared at it, eyes wide, refusing to believe what I was seeing. As it fell it transformed into an immense cloud of billowing dust and debris that expanded rapidly in our direction. I could see the leading edge of a roiling tsunami of debris rushing toward me yet I remained locked in place, frozen like a deer caught in headlights. Two people fleeing the angry cloud bumped into me before Hank seized my hand… Although I wasn’t moving, I realized that I was panicking as well. “Jamal,” Hank prodded. “NOW.” I took a deep breath as I raised my tremendous arms toward the sky. “YOU WILL STOP AND REMAIN CALM!” I bellowed as loudly as I thought those near me could bear. Then as quickly as the cacophony of voices began, it faded. The crowd was still. And the rumble of an approaching jet drifted down from the north. Not fucking again. “YOU WILL CALMLY RETURN TO YOUR HOMES,” I ordered before turning back to Hank and Matt. “Except you two.” Once again, everyone seemed to obey me, although mindfully rather than as the zombies they had appeared to be earlier. People were again moving in all directions, but now in an orderly and deliberate manner. Despite their obedience, I was extremely frustrated. “All this power and I can’t do shit to stop an airplane,” I complained. “Have you tried flying?” Hank asked. I scowled. “Do I look like Superman?” “You look like you could totally kick his ass.” “I can’t fly, Hank.” I looked at Matt, whose expression became thoughtful. “Have you tried?” he asked. As ridiculous as it sounded, I had to admit that I hadn’t tried, so I squatted down on the turf and extending my legs with all my might, thrust upward with the hope of launching myself into the air. Instead, my feet plowed down into the earth with such force that a huge cloud of dirt and grass erupted skyward and outward. I rose maybe fifty feet into the air and then slammed into the ground again as the cloud of dirt rained down around me. I found myself face down in a crater of my own making. “I guess that settles that,” I said. I pushed myself up and looked around. Both Hank and Matt were covered with dirt. The roar of the jet grew closer. “What kind of god are you, anyway?” Hank asked impatiently as he brushed himself off with his uninjured hand. “A god that can’t fly,” I said as I climbed to my feet. The approaching jet grew louder. I looked at my loyal companions. Suddenly, I knew what to do. “Stay here, I’ll be right back,” I told them. “Hank needs medical attention,” Matt said. “We’ll catch up with you later.” I briefly froze, ashamed and angry with myself for forgetting about Hank’s right hand. They were already turning away from me. “Wait!” I said. They turned back to face me. “If Terry is right, my cum should heal your hand.” “There’s no time!” Matt called out. “Deal with that plane and we’ll meet you at home!” “Let’s find Terry,” Hank suggested as they disappeared into the crowd. I sprang into action. Thrusting a bit more carefully with only my left leg, I leapt toward Central Park West. If I couldn’t fly, I could at least cover the few hundred yards to the avenue very rapidly. Right, left, right, left. In a matter of seconds, I reached the street, which was backed up southbound as far as I could see, and found a vehicle that would do. A heavy tow truck sat trapped in traffic in the left-hand lane. I bolted for the cab, pulled the door off and dropped it. “Sorry, I need to borrow your truck,” I said to the slack-jawed driver as I reached in and pulled him from his seat. The jet roared overhead at perhaps a thousand feet as I set him down. There was no doubt. It was heading directly toward the World Trade Center. “Please stand back,” I warned as I tilted the vehicle onto its right wheels just enough to reach the undercarriage. Seizing the frame, I lifted the truck overhead and tilted it back until I could see the jet. Carefully, for I didn’t want to apply so much force to the frame that the truck would tear itself apart, I placed one foot well ahead of the other, stretched my arms back as far as I could without falling backward, and hurled it toward the rapidly disappearing jet with all my might. The sound and force of the sonic boom created by the truck’s rapid acceleration took me by surprise and I instinctively winced as windows in all directions shattered. The asphalt beneath me also shattered and deformed as the power of my throw drove my bare feet several inches back and down into the pavement. I looked up and to the south to see the truck quickly overtake the jet. It slammed into the starboard engine, most of which tore free from the wing in an explosion of ignited fuel. A rain of machinery, large and small, fell across what must have been Hell’s Kitchen. What did I just do? What if this was a coincidence? What if its flight path was totally innocent? The new tower isn’t even to full height yet, why would it be a target? I wished Matt were with me. Somehow, he would know. The jet was beginning to veer toward the west when it disappeared behind the buildings to the south. The now familiar feeling of helplessness returned. I had no idea what I was doing. I had no idea what to do next. I was in no way prepared to lead or protect anyone. Car alarms were going off right and left. The wail of sirens pierced the air. I looked around. I was standing in the middle of the street, buck naked, with my flaccid penis hanging down to my knees. Even with my feet driven six or so inches into the pavement, I was at least seven feet tall and towered over most of the people who had gathered around me. To my relief, they weren’t being submissive. Though certainly in awe of me, they were also shocked and curious. It was the truck driver who spoke first. “Wha … what was that?” He said. “I thought that plane was heading for the World Trade Center,” I explained. “I wanted to take it down.” “You threw that tow truck like it was a baseball, man!” A teenage boy said. “You’re like Superman but super swole!” I stepped out of the hole I had made in the street. Everyone backed away a few steps. A few did fall to their knees. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt anyone.” At least not intentionally. “I’m here to….” I hesitated, uncertain of what to say. I’m here to rule the world? I’m here to clean up the mess we’ve made? “I’m here to protect you. Protect the Earth.” “Like Superman!” The teenager said excitedly. I furrowed my brow. “I can’t fly,” I said as if it were a failing. The situation was very surreal. I was having an almost casual conversation with a group of strangers. No one was worshipping, as they had been only moments earlier. Most weren’t bowing down before me in deference as they had been all week. They were simply acting like … people. Although I did enjoy being worshipped, at least at times, I realized that I didn’t expect or need it. I found I liked this dynamic much better. “Who are you?” A male voice asked. Then everyone was speaking, both talking amongst themselves and asking me questions. “What are you?” I heard a different man ask. “You’re the guy everyone has been talking about,” a woman this time. “The muscle guy on YouTube!” “Damn, he’s even bigger now.” “The Empire State Building has been hit by a plane!” I heard a woman scream. “He keeps growing.” “Check out his dick man! Talk about the dick of death!” I looked around me again. So many people were talking and gathering and gawking that I couldn’t make out what they were saying. This wasn’t getting anyone anywhere. I held up my arms. “Everyone!” I said. The crowd fell silent. “I want you all to go home and wait for instructions from the city. There could be more attacks.” And I’m going to do my best to stop them. They may not have been worshipping me, but they were completely obedient. As the crowd dispersed, I considered running down to 34th Street to see if I could help. Then I stopped in the middle of the traffic-snarled street and looked down. My massive chest filled my vision, blocking my view of the rest of me below it. My cock was soft, hanging, nestled in front of my giant quads where I couldn’t see it. I looked back up and blinked. Somehow, for the first time in a week, I felt completely at home in my radically changed body, as if I were just Jamal. “One thing has ended,” I said softly. “And something new begins.” Late afternoon had given way to evening. Hank kept hold of my hand as we continued down West Broadway toward Ground Zero. I didn’t understand why. He had never wanted to hold hands when we were together. Of course, I was holding his hand as well and I didn’t know why I was doing that either. It felt nice. I still loved him. I missed him. It was an odd form of torture. I assumed that he was taking me down town to Church and Barclay, where we had first met, where we saw the south tower fall, where our journey together had begun, in some misguided attempt to observe our anniversary, such as it was. I hadn’t been this close to the World Trade Center site since that day and as we approached, my anxiety grew. It was more than the location of thousands of lost and destroyed lives. It was the scar left by religious fanatics – terrorists. It was a demonstration of the danger of radicalization. It was yet another example of the horrors that we as humans are capable of. We stood at the crosswalk across Chambers and waited for the light to change. I felt as if we had entered some kind of negative energy field of anger and grief, vengeance and hate, and worst of all, failure. My failure. I didn’t want to go closer. My palms grew sweaty. I could feel Hank staring at me. He tapped my forehead gently. “What’s goin’ on in there?” he asked. “What’s wrong?” “This is really hard,” I said. “Being so close. It makes me … I don’t know … I guess I’m scared.” “Scared,” he said doubtfully. “You climb around on I-beams like a monkey all day while hundreds of feet in the air and you’re scared.” I didn’t reply. The light changed. Hank continued holding my hand as we walked the few remaining blocks to our destination. He stopped in front of a parking garage. The parking garage. I was angry and confused. I had almost died here. Karen had died here. “This is it,” he said. My temper flared. “Why are we here?” I said crossly. “Why…” But Hank put his finger over my mouth. “Shhhhhhhhh,” he said gently. “It’s okay. I brought you here to thank you.” I looked inside the brightly lit entrance to where I had carried Karen, where we had been found. “Thank me for what?” “You’re wrong, Jamal. You didn’t fail Karen. You helped her,” his voice broke and his eyes glistened with gathering tears. “You found her injured and scared and brought her here. What was the last thing she said to you?” I remembered it so clearly. I felt her kiss me on the cheek. “Thank you,” she managed to whisper in my ear... “Thank you,” I said, looking down at the sidewalk. “She said, ‘thank you.’” “Yeah. Exactly. You rescued her and made her feel safe. She fell asleep and died feeling safe.” Tears were streaming down his face. I had never seen Hank cry before and I suddenly felt very selfish for blaming myself for so long. He smiled through the tears. “So I wanna thank you too,” he said as he continued looking into my eyes. I was at a loss for a moment but before my throat tightened too much, I managed to croak “you’re welcome.” Then I was on all fours, draining a year’s worth of pain onto the indifferent concrete in the form of heavy tears. * * * A few hours and several drinks later, Hank and I stumbled out of an upscale bar on West Houston Street and into the night. Traffic on the one-way street was light but the sidewalks were alive with a surprising number of pedestrians. We headed back to my flat. He had his huge arm around my shoulders as we walked, oblivious to the wake we created as people were forced around us. “Thanks for doing this today,” I said. “I feel a lot better.” Hank smiled and looked at me. “One thing’s ended,” he slurred. “An’ somethin’ new begins.” I didn’t know what the future held for us, but I was confident that we could at least be friends. Most importantly, I felt optimistic for the first time in a year. I ran south on 10th Avenue as fast as I could without destroying everything in my path. Propelling myself down the middle of the street at highway speeds without colliding with oncoming cars or pedestrians in crosswalks was challenging, but so far, I’d managed to run several blocks without causing any serious damage. I quickly learned just how much force to apply with my legs to leap over a car versus a truck or bus. Someone with a radio had reported that a plane had crash-landed near the Pier 51 playground and fallen into the river. I knew exactly where the playground was. It was only blocks from my apartment. As I raced down the avenue through Hell’s Kitchen, I again second-guessed my actions. The new tower was designed and built to survive the impact of a jumbo jet. Any damage caused by ramming an airliner into the building would be limited. I knew guys who were working on it. I had worked with many of them before. Some were second or third generation ironworkers whose fathers had built the Twin Towers or even whose grandfathers had built the Empire State Building. In fact, I didn’t apply to work on the project because I didn’t want to displace a man who had earned the right to place and connect those I-beams. It was sacred. And though I didn’t participate, I was familiar with its design and it would take much more than an aircraft impact to bring that building down. Of course, 1WTC wasn’t the only possible target. It was certainly the most symbolic, but perhaps the terrorists had set their sights on another building. Or perhaps it was something else that I hadn’t considered. Or perhaps there wasn’t another target at all. Had I saved a skyscraper from destruction at the hands of terrorists or knocked an aircraft with hundreds of innocent passengers out of the sky for no reason? I raced by the location of the Hudson train yard and by the time I had left it far behind, I became convinced that I had overreacted. But then I was there. The Meatpacking District. Gansevoort Street. An American Airlines 777 that was halfway into the river nose first. The pilot had tried to land on the highway, but in the process took out a few cars, traffic lights, trees, and streetlights as it slid partially into the river. Traffic was backed up in all directions and a growing crowd of people was gathering in a semi-circle starting around 100 feet away from the aircraft’s tail. No emergency vehicles had arrived yet. There probably weren’t any available. I leapt over the crowd so that I was between them and the jet and turned to face the now even-more-shocked faces. “I NEED EVERYONE TO BACK AWAY,” I announced in what Matt had called my “god voice” before turning to face the jet and evaluate the situation. Most of the starboard engine was missing of course, but surprisingly, at least to me, there was no fuel leaking from the wing nor was there any sign of fire. Equally strange was that all of the exit doors remained closed. The passengers weren’t being evacuated. But answers to those mysteries would have to wait until I got it out of the water. The nose of the aircraft was mostly submerged, the tail far overhead and out of my reach. I needed to pull it out by the rear landing gear, preferably both sets at the same time. If only I had an extra heavy chain… And there it was – to my right, along the edge of the sanitation department’s pier, was a chain of massive iron links. It was perhaps 50 yards long and threaded through a long line of steel posts. In no time I had pulled it free of the posts and snapped it in half. Wrapping one end of each segment around the two landing gear struts, I twisted the foot-long links together with my hands, essentially welding the loops closed. Only a few minutes after my arrival, I had the free ends of the two chains in my hands and was pulling them taut. The aircraft groaned. The pressure of my feet against the concrete pavement caused it to fracture. I slowly pulled it backward and as the aircraft began to move, I wondered how much weight I was dealing with. Each of the two chains must have been several tons, and the aircraft itself? Hundreds of tons? But its weight wasn’t important, for even as the fuselage of the jet dragged against the concrete and the nose lifted out of the water, even as the front landing strut snapped off as it encountered the edge of the embankment, I barely noticed any resistance at all. It was like pulling my little red wagon as a child when it was empty – effortless. I had just sprinted a few miles in minutes. I was filled with anxiety and guilt. I should have been awash in sweat and adrenaline but was not. My heart, or whatever was pulsing in my chest, did so calmly and slowly. My body had transformed into something seemingly indestructible, but my mind was as human as ever. The jet was completely out of the water. Stripped of its front landing gear, the nose of the aircraft rested on the embankment. I leapt up onto the starboard wing and sinking my fingers into the aluminum skin of the cabin, pulled one of the doors free and tossed it aside. My eyes adjusted instantly as I peered inside. The aircraft was empty. There were no passengers. There were not even any seats. Instead, two rows of large unmarked boxes, each a cube perhaps 6 feet in all three dimensions, stretched down the center from front to back for roughly half the length of the fuselage. I stepped all the way in and turned to the right with the intention of checking the cockpit. What looked like four parachute packs hung in the cabin a short distance away. “Freeze!” A male voice barked from behind. “Do not move!” I turned around. “I said DO NOT MOVE!” There were two men in dark blue military uniforms that I didn’t recognize, each with what appeared to be an automatic weapon trained on me. They were perhaps 50 feet away and wore masks of some kind. I couldn’t see their faces, but their skin was white. I briefly wondered if their weapons could harm me but it seemed unlikely. “Are you the pilots?” I said. “What’s in these…” “SHUT UP!” The man on the right, presumably the one in charge, yelled. “Do not move!” he repeated. I found myself wishing I knew how to control my ability to force submission but I could no more consciously turn it on as I could turn it off. I began walking toward them. “FREEZE!” The lead barked again. “One more step and I’ll fire!” “No!” his companion whispered in earnest. “You’ll kill us both.” Both men sounded as American as I or Hank or Matt. I paused for a moment. Something was very wrong. The aircraft was painted in the livery of American Airlines, yet the interior was completely generic. No logos, no flags, no markings of any kind. The men’s uniforms were equally generic and devoid of insignia. I listened as they continued to talk in what they believed to be tones I could not hear. If anyone else were standing at this distance they would have been correct, but I could understand them perfectly. Though impatient, I remained still as ordered. “Whoever this freak is just pulled this aircraft out of the river single-handedly,” the lead said. “We have to neutralize him or get him off this jet.” “What if the bullets bounce off of him and detonate the cargo?” The other man asked. Detonate the cargo? The lead scoffed. “Are you an idiot?” He looked at me. “Step out onto the wing,” he ordered, but I had run out of patience. “How about you put your toys down,” I said as I resumed walking toward them. The lead man immediately fired dozens of rounds from his weapon, which hit my chest and except for a few that somehow lodged in my chest hair, indeed did bounce off in various directions. As I drew nearer though, his hands began shaking and he dropped to his knees without a word. “That’s better,” I said calmly as I continued to approach. “Now tell me about your mission.” Then, in a moment of unexpected self-control, he turned his gun toward one of the cargo containers to my right and fired into it. At the same time, his subordinate, who had fallen next to him, cried “NO!” as he tried to reach for the weapon. But it was too late. The echo of his plea had not even diminished when the container exploded. The last thing I saw as the force of the blast propelled me toward the vaporizing fuselage and into the early afternoon sun was the detonation of the surrounding containers. * * * The sound and sensation of water flowing around me nudged me to consciousness and I opened my eyes. I was on my back in the fountain in Austin J. Tobin Plaza, gazing up at the vertically striped white towers of the World Trade Center, which soared forever upward into a deep blue sky – the South Tower to my left, the North Tower to my right. The cool water from the fountain ran gently around my shoulders and arms. I remained there for some time, staring into the cloudless sky. I could hear only the wind and water, feel only the sun, breeze, and gentle current. I couldn’t remember feeling so relaxed. There were no voices, no sounds of traffic, no airplanes… “Jamal!” Hank’s voice called. No airplanes. I bolted upright, my heart pounding against my ribcage. “Jamal!” Hank called again. “You hafta stop the plane!” I leapt to my feet and quickly surveyed the plaza. It was completely empty. No one was in sight. “Hank?” I called out. I felt a tap on my right shoulder and spun around to face the fountain. Hank was standing directly in front of me, looking exactly as he had when we met. The wind was at my back and blew around me, lifting his long, copper hair as if he were facing into a fan. I looked up into his eyes, which were unusually large and smoky again. “Where did you come from?” I asked, completely confused. He was his 2001 self, as was I. Hank didn’t speak but instead pointed toward the sky. I looked up, following his gesture just as a white aircraft passed above the Twin Towers and exploded, generating a blinding flash of heat and light. “There’s one more jet,” Hank said, as a rapidly expanding fireball enveloped the towers and raced toward us. “You have to stop it or everyone will die.” “What?” I asked, even more confused. “Flex, Jamal,” he said. “Flex everything! NOW!” * * * Several, perhaps dozens of tons of whatever material had been in the cargo containers, were exploding and in that instant, I realized that my sense of time had changed. Everything appeared to move in slow motion. As I drifted up and away from the rapidly evaporating jet, I could somehow see each container erupt and disintegrate, the individual blasts expand outward at enormous yet easily traceable speeds, even as I was enveloped in a maelstrom of flame and intersecting shockwaves. I was perhaps 100 yards away from where I had been standing on the plane. The fireball was probably 300 yards in diameter. Flex, Hank had said. So, I did. I flexed my arms and my traps and my pecs, my lats and my abs and my glutes, my quads and my hamstrings and my calves. I flexed everything, squeezing as hard as I could, for I knew why I was doing it. The only way to stop the explosion was to absorb it. * * * I felt a torrent of water gushing against my back and opened my eyes. I was on my back, looking at a partly-cloudy afternoon sky. Immediately to my right, a damaged fire hydrant lay on its side. I had landed on it and taken it out. There’s one more jet. Everyone will die, Hank said. I sprang to my feet and briefly surveyed my surroundings. I was again taller, which meant I was again bigger and stronger, but despite the resulting twitch of my cock I pushed that from my mind. I had something larger than my growing cock to deal with. I was near Gansevoort and Tenth Avenue. Across the street toward the river, nothing remained of the aircraft. The facades of the buildings facing the Hudson were scorched, but apart from that the damage seemed limited to shattered windows. People were likely killed or injured in the blast before I was able to absorb it, but I couldn’t help them. I had to figure out how to stop another aircraft without killing more people. Somehow, I needed to reach it. I could run to the West 30th Street heliport and hope that a helicopter and pilot were available, but that didn’t seem workable. At best, the jet pilot would only avoid the helicopter. If I can throw a tow truck a few thousand feet I can certainly jump high enough to reach a low-flying aircraft. That was the answer. I just needed a solid enough surface to leap from in a central location. Rat Rock. I had to return to Central Park. This time, I ran up Eighth Avenue, soaring between the US Post Office and Penn Station. What did Hank mean, everyone will die? Everyone on the aircraft? Everyone in the target building? Everyone in lower Manhattan? I felt ineffectual, lost. I had become so accustomed to having Hank and Matt around, so dependent on their insight and advice, that I felt incomplete without them. I tried not to imagine the scene at the Empire State Building. For now, I pushed my friends from my mind. It might be difficult for me to find them, but I knew how to make it easy for them to find me. At roughly one block per stride, it took only a few minutes for me to cover the distance to Columbus Circle. The streets of Manhattan, at least south of the park, seemed to be gridlocked. A logjam of buses, cars, and trucks surrounded the monument to Christopher Columbus, filling the roundabout. I leapt to avoid them… …and landed atop Rat Rock, a roughly circular outcropping of schist 50 or 60 feet in diameter and twice my height, shattering a thin layer of the gray stone around my feet. No one seemed to be around, and I began to scan the sky, relaxing my eyes so that I could see through the trees and surrounding buildings. The X-ray-like, false color view of the universe returned, revealing a storm of color and patterns that I had no idea how to interpret. I spent a few minutes changing the focus of my eyes, wondering if I could consciously determine which wavelengths I could detect, to see if I could filter out what I didn’t need at the moment. A few objects moved in slow, steady arcs around me. Satellites, I assumed. Most everything else seemed to be stationary until an object approaching from the west caught my attention. Something that was glowing with a harsh blue-white light like the reactors at the Indian Point power plant. Was this the plane that Hank had warned me of or a missile with a nuclear warhead? I couldn’t determine its speed or distance or angle of approach, but it seemed at least a few minutes away. I continued to focus on the approaching object. I tried to zoom in, Steve Austin-like, without luck. I tried examining the radiation source at varying frequencies mostly because it gave me something to do. Then something slammed into my back and exploded. The force of the impact and explosion thrust me forward into a group of trees and I landed on the ground face down. As I climbed to my feet again, a projectile from the opposite direction hit my chest and exploded. And another. And another. “GOD DAMMIT THIS ISN’T A GOOD TIME!” I roared. The grove of trees was in flames as I stood and began searching the sky again, trying to get my bearings. There were now multiple objects moving in the afternoon sky. Several small aircraft circled my location. I could see through the trees and flames and smoke that they were unmanned drones, which might have been helpful except that they were a bit late and targeting the wrong thing. I counted four, a few hundred feet overhead. Then I found the blue-white light of the radiation source. It was close enough for me to see that it was clearly a jet aircraft. I remained at the center of the fire, tracking my target as it approached. It seemed the drones couldn’t get a fix on me while I was engulfed in flames. I would wait as long as I could before I jumped back onto Rat Rock and launched myself at the air. Or would the presence of the drones cause the jet to change course? I hopped back onto the rock outcropping and snapped off a small boulder. The drones immediately changed their courses as I broke the boulder into smaller chunks and began hurling them at the unmanned aircraft. Four direct hits sent them falling to the ground. I felt oddly pleased with myself. At least there was no doubt about my aim. I could now clearly see and hear the approaching jet. It was higher than the others, maybe at 2000 feet, and though it had begun banking to the right, would still pass close enough that I was certain I could reach it. Nearby, the trees continued to burn. I wondered if I could blow them out and began to inhale. For around 30 seconds, I drew air into my lungs. When I felt like I had enough, I turned toward the trees and blew as hard as I could, as if they were candles on a birthday cake. Naturally, I flew backward off the rock and landed in the sand of the Hecksher Playground. I sighed and again climbed to my feet, but at least the fire was out. You’re clumsy, but not completely useless after all, I thought to myself. Nearly an hour must have passed since the Empire State Building had been hit, but other than the drone swarm, which was clearly targeting me, there had been no response from the military. What the hell is going on? Where are our fighter jets? Then I heard the sound of dozens of boots approaching from multiple directions. In seconds I was surrounded by what seemed to be military troops of some kind at a distance of perhaps 50 feet. They had already taken aim. “Jamal Al-Bakri,” an authoritative male voice called out. “You will surrender and come with us. Cooperate or we will fire.” “What?” I said, incredulous. “We don’t have time for this. There’s a third jet…” I looked into the early afternoon sun and pointed. “RIGHT THERE! I believe this one is carrying a nuclear weapon. Now stand aside so I can stop it.” I hopped back onto Rat Rack and was squatting down when I heard the man call “fire!” and I was showered with bullets. I rolled my eyes and stood. “YOU WILL CEASE FIRING.” I commanded. But incredibly, nothing changed. Scores of bullets bounced off of me but also continued to collect in the hair covering my immense pectorals. Some lodged in my beard. I pulled at one and noticed that it had actually wrapped itself around a single thick black hair. I pulled it off, popped it into my mouth, and swallowed. The hair remained attached to my skin. I hopped down and began to walk forward. Occasionally a few of the bullets would strike my penis. They felt good. They feel good, I could do this all day. My cock began to grow and harden. The magnificent beast was awake. I brought my hands up, my epic, bulging forearms, biceps, and pecs competing for space, and began to crush the thickening layer of ammunition against the impossibly massive, striated muscle of my chest, melting and spreading it across the expanse of my pecs, feeling how much broader and thicker they had become, then down my deeply separated eight-pack to my cock, which was now fully erect. It pounded, throbbing visibly as I covered it with molten steel and lead, squeezing it as hard as I could, the pleasure becoming so intense that for a moment I forgot where I was but not what – a being so powerful and masculine and glorious that all would beg to worship me. As my tremendous cock throbbed madly, thrusting nearly a yard before me, my loins burning for release, I brought my arms up, arms which could surely rend the planet in two, and flexed. I closed my eyes and reveled in the immeasurable power of my body, turning my face up to the sky, lost in bliss as my indestructible form was caressed by thousands of rounds of ammunition, which suddenly ceased. The echoes of dozens of automatic weapons faded, revealing only the whine of two jet engines. I opened my eyes to see every soldier silently weeping while either kneeling or bent forward, faces to the ground. Better. I looked up. The jet was about as close as it was going to get. It was also unmarked, at least as far as I could tell. Unlike the others, both of which were painted in the livery of American Airlines, this was simply a plain white twin engine passenger jet. I jumped back onto Rat Rock and quickly wiped most of the metal from my torso and cock. As I squatted down, I wondered how much force my enormous legs could generate. When I threw the wrecker, I simple hurled it as hard as I could. But I didn’t want to fly through the plane. I needed to reach it and stop. Grab hold and tear my way in perhaps. It was moving further away. I launched myself into the air. As I soared toward it, I did feel as if I were flying. The sensation of air rushing by at a few hundred miles per hour – against my skin, around my still-erect cock – was exhilarating. But I was a projectile, subject to the friction of air and the gravity of the Earth, unable to alter course. Still, I was rapidly approaching the aircraft and as I passed through the plume of smoke from the remains of the Empire State Building, I realized I had to somehow grasp the port wing as I passed it at roughly 50 mph. Time seemed to slow. I became aware of two things. One, I was going to miss by a few yards. I was going slightly too fast. Two, I could somehow see the turbulence of the air as the jet cut through it. I could also see the aircraft’s interior to some extent. The harsh blue-white glow of the uranium was near the center of aircraft, its radiation detectable through the casing. The jet was configured to carry cargo. Most of the interior was empty, while the cockpit appeared standard – at least to my layman’s eye – two seats, some equipment, and a door. But, it was empty. No one was flying the plane. I was closing in from below and of course from behind. I held out my arms to reduce my speed, alternately bringing them in and out a bit to fine tune my approach. The port engine was immediately to my right as I passed it – I could have reached out and touched it – but I waited until I could grab the wing’s leading edge. Although I could see the air being drawn into the engine, it was too late – I wasn’t able to adjust my speed to avoid being sucked in without missing the jet entirely. My legs were pulled into the engine fans, which shattered before the bulk of my upper legs and cock forced the engine shaft to stop spinning entirely. Jet fuel accumulated for a second or two – I recognized the smell – before exploding and then burning out. I climbed out of the damaged engine pod and clawed my way along the wing, digging my fingers into the aluminum to keep from being blown off. On reaching the fuselage, I simply tore my way into the cabin, which was dimly lit. The warhead was a cone well over a yard long, which was strapped vertically to a truss that ran from the floor of the cabin to the top. A cable ran from the cone up the truss to a box about a foot on each side with a keypad and a few controls. A digital LED displayed the number 10. As I looked around, I noticed several cameras. I was probably being watched, but of course, I had no idea how to disarm it or even if it were possible. I fantasized about flying it into space. Or maybe I can pilot the jet out over the ocean. I had turned and started toward the cockpit when I heard a quick, soft beep beep. I returned to the truss. The 10 on the control box was now 06 and continued to count down. Only seconds before I had been completely fearless. For all practical purposes I was infinitely strong and completely indestructible. But now I was terrified, and I pulled the cone free of its straps and wrapped myself around it, covering as much of its surface as I could. Hank was down there. Matt was down there. Terry. Carlos. Nearly everyone I cared about plus a million or so others were only a few thousand feet below me. 04 … 03 … maybe I could crush it? I leaned back so that the bulk of my body was between the ground and the warhead and began to squeeze, which collapsed the casing and… It began so small. A perfectly white sphere of plasma only a few yards in diameter replaced the warhead, which was instantaneously vaporized into ionized gas at 100 million degrees. A fraction of a second later, the entire aircraft had been vaporized. By the time I had begun flexing every muscle I could think of, a full second had passed and a fireball a few hundred yards wide had appeared over lower Manhattan with me suspended at its center. I flexed, reveling in the sensation of the enormous energy released by the weapon flowing into my titanic, growing muscles. I had noticed over the past few days that the hotter something was, the better it felt, the more pleasure I experienced. Having a nuclear weapon detonate immediately against my chest bathed me in ecstasy beyond comprehension and I could both see and feel my surging cock grow in both size and hardness, the pressure in my loins mounting to a degree greater even than that of the blast I was containing. I looked down at my unimaginably powerful pecs, watching as the thick black hair that covered them waved and floated in the inferno. One hundred million degrees and not even my hair was singed. I am truly indestructible. My huge cock and balls, stimulated beyond imagination by the extreme heat and pressure, growing and throbbing uncontrollably, unleashed my most powerful orgasm yet, and I aimed my cum cannon toward the sky as it spewed thousands of gallons through the raging inferno surrounding me, soaring up into the atmosphere for miles. I continued to flex as hard as I could, absorbing as much of the escaping heat and energy as possible, canceling out the pressure wave which would have destroyed much of Manhattan. I will become infinitely powerful. I knew this. Hank was right. The universe was creating its own god and the ecstasy this knowledge brought me was overwhelming. I was drunk with my own magnificence. I will have eternal and absolute dominance over all things. I will enslave this universe. A brief shudder of abject terror washed over me, penetrating my ecstasy. No. That is not what I want. But I could feel my consciousness shifting again. Jamal! It was Hank’s voice. “Hank?” Jamal, that’s not you. Hank’s voice was somehow clear through the thunderous roar of the firestorm. You’ve got to resist it. I could feel the pressure increase. Even as the feeling of dread swept through me, the desire to embrace a dark yet infinite pleasure mounted. “What do you mean?” I asked out loud. It wants you. DON’T LET IT IN. Hank said desperately. FIGHT IT! All I could sense was an intense need for conquest. A limitless hunger. Everything must be mastered and enslaved and drained. But that isn't who I am, I replied. * * * Earlier that day, in another place… There are things older than the universe. Ancient things from universes far older than our own or that no longer exist. It was one of those things. Its home universe collapsed a trillion years ago, but it had learned long before of methods to slip between the universes, to navigate from one universe to another. As long as a universe’s physical constants were compatible, it was able enter. For an eternity, it searched through a universe of universes, methodically, deliberately, conserving its energy, maintaining just enough awareness to test a target universe’s physics, just enough awareness to be. It had once enjoyed a seemingly endless torrent of energy drawn over tens of billions of years from all the stars, all the galaxies, all the life of its long-dead home, but its reserves dwindled as the eons passed, as it sought something that appeared increasingly unlikely. Millions of years would pass between finding compatible universes or universes with life, billions of years between finding universes that were compatible and held life, and thus far, a trillion years without finding a compatible universe with life that it could use. It was now barely a cloud of molecules, a fading wisp of organized information that knew little more than a tortured emptiness and an all-consuming hunger. A hunger that had been growing for countless billions of years. A hunger that finally, just as it had resigned itself to oblivion, detected a life form that it could use.

Todd got out of bed, clad in just his briefs. He felt more energetic and stronger than he had in years. He pulled on a pair of running shorts, and they felt much tighter over his legs than he remembered. He couldn’t even get his shoulders into his favorite t-shirt, so he just tossed it aside and pulled on some running shoes. He was only vaguely aware of the new power and size of his body. The previous few days were both fuzzy and crystal clear at the same time. He clearly remembered his encounter with Evan, but all previous memories of his life seemed to have faded. He started to methodically lumber about his room, packing up some items. Books he was intending to read, an old guitar he used to play, the suits he used to wear for work, even his family photos and a box of mementos from college. These talismans from his past now made no sense to Todd, not since his hypnotic conversation with Evan. He gathered them all in a box and carried them out to the street. Except for thoughts of Evan, and a hunger for his cum, Todd’s mind was a total blank. He dumped his possessions on the curb, and looked down the street. Loitering on the corner was Miguel, a local thug who had mugged Todd a few months earlier. Miguel stood 6’2” and about 240lbs of solid muscle. He was wearing a thin tank top that not only showed off his intimidating muscle, but also the tattoos he received in prison. He was clearly trying to send a message: This is my turf. Remembering how roughed up he was after the mugging, Todd felt a rage rising inside himself. He inhaled, steeled his core and started to run down the street. He moved remarkably fast, but by the time he got to Miguel, his rage was erupting. He ran up behind the thug, and without even calling out his name, punched him hard in the back of his skull. The impact was so hard, the thug was knocked about eight feet in the air before landing face down on the pavement. After catching his breath, he rolled over and looked up Todd. “Get up, bitch.” Todd said in a low but terrifying tone. Miguel could see he was seething with rage, so he stood up quickly. “What the fuck was that for?” he asked, not recognizing the man he mugged a few months ago. But Todd was beyond conversation. He backhanded the thug hard, then spun around and caught him before he fell again. Todd now had him from behind in a headlock. He wrapped his immense bicep around the thug’s neck and slowly started to tighten his grip. “Don’t you remember me, bitch?” Todd said derisively. “I’m the faggot you roughed up a few months ago.” Miguel was gasping for air as he pulled on Todd’s forearm trying to loosen his grip, but Todd just kept tightening it like a cobra. Todd inhaled deep, and then pushed out his chest, lifting the thug off the ground, and even more power. Miguel was close to passing out, but Todd didn’t relent. Miguel was starting to black out. Todd’s bicep was cutting off all his oxygen, and the blood was rushing away from his head. To his dick. Todd looked down and saw the thug’s dick stiffening up. He laughed hard and said, “So I guess you enjoy a bit of rough play, huh faggot?” At that moment, Evan pulled up in the SUV. He calmly got out of the truck and surveyed the situation. He looked deep into Todd’s eyes and could see the rage in him. “Enjoying that new power, Todd?” asked Evan, oblivious to the gasping thug. “Let me end this, Evan,” said Todd, nodding to Miguel. Evan didn’t have to say a word, he looked at Todd. And just like that, Todd dropped the thug on the ground, then squatted down next to him, and whispered into his hear. “You see that guy?” he said, pointing to Evan. “I’m his bitch. And now, you’re mine. And this is my neighborhood. Don’t make me angry ever again bitch, because you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.” Todd stood up and caught his reflection in the SUV. At that moment, he finally became fully self-aware: thanks to Evan’s cum, Todd now stood 6’6” tall. He lingered on his image as he heard Evan say: “315lbs of pure muscle Todd.” Evan walked towards Todd, and placed his hand on Todd’s shoulder. Todd’s massive chest was slowly rising, and Evan knew that he had only temporarily tamped down his rage. Practically frothing at the mouth, and his massive new body covered in a sheen of sweat, Todd looked up at Evan. “That’s a lot of power my cum just pumped into your muscle fiber, Todd. I didn’t want to trigger the transformation until I knew you could handle it.” “Yes Evan, I can.” “You’re my savage beast now Todd, I hope you realize what that means.” “Anything for you Evan,” he said breathlessly. He nodded at Miguel, who was still on the ground. “Let me show you. I’ll end him.” “No, Evan, but now I know your devotion to me is unquestioned.” He poked a finger into Todd’s thick chest. “You are my creation, and my savage beast, understood?” “Yes, Evan,” said Todd. Then looking down at Miguel, he growled, “You’re mine now.” And Miguel immediately blew a massive load of cum in his sweat pants. He watched in awe as a shirtless Todd got into the driver’s seat of the SUV. “Now let’s get back to the shop, we have a lot of work to do,” said Evan.

Todd got out of bed, clad in just his briefs. He felt more energetic and stronger than he had in years. He pulled on a pair of running shorts, and they felt much tighter over his legs than he remembered. He couldn’t even get his shoulders into his favorite t-shirt, so he just tossed it aside and pulled on some running shoes. He was only vaguely aware of the new power and size of his body. The previous few days were both fuzzy and crystal clear at the same time. He clearly remembered his encounter with Evan, but all previous memories of his life seemed to have faded. He started to methodically lumber about his room, packing up some items. Books he was intending to read, an old guitar he used to play, the suits he used to wear for work, even his family photos and a box of mementos from college. These talismans from his past now made no sense to Todd, not since his hypnotic conversation with Evan. He gathered them all in a box and carried them out to the street. Except for thoughts of Evan, and a hunger for his cum, Todd’s mind was a total blank. He dumped his possessions on the curb, and looked down the street. Loitering on the corner was Miguel, a local thug who had mugged Todd a few months earlier. Miguel stood 6’2” and about 240lbs of solid muscle. He was wearing a thin tank top that not only showed off his intimidating muscle, but also the tattoos he received in prison. He was clearly trying to send a message: This is my turf. Remembering how roughed up he was after the mugging, Todd felt a rage rising inside himself. He inhaled, steeled his core and started to run down the street. He moved remarkably fast, but by the time he got to Miguel, his rage was erupting. He ran up behind the thug, and without even calling out his name, punched him hard in the back of his skull. The impact was so hard, the thug was knocked about eight feet in the air before landing face down on the pavement. After catching his breath, he rolled over and looked up Todd. “Get up, bitch.” Todd said in a low but terrifying tone. Miguel could see he was seething with rage, so he stood up quickly. “What the fuck was that for?” he asked, not recognizing the man he mugged a few months ago. But Todd was beyond conversation. He backhanded the thug hard, then spun around and caught him before he fell again. Todd now had him from behind in a headlock. He wrapped his immense bicep around the thug’s neck and slowly started to tighten his grip. “Don’t you remember me, bitch?” Todd said derisively. “I’m the faggot you roughed up a few months ago.” Miguel was gasping for air as he pulled on Todd’s forearm trying to loosen his grip, but Todd just kept tightening it like a cobra. Todd inhaled deep, and then pushed out his chest, lifting the thug off the ground, and even more power. Miguel was close to passing out, but Todd didn’t relent. Miguel was starting to black out. Todd’s bicep was cutting off all his oxygen, and the blood was rushing away from his head. To his dick. Todd looked down and saw the thug’s dick stiffening up. He laughed hard and said, “So I guess you enjoy a bit of rough play, huh faggot?” At that moment, Evan pulled up in the SUV. He calmly got out of the truck and surveyed the situation. He looked deep into Todd’s eyes and could see the rage in him. “Enjoying that new power, Todd?” asked Evan, oblivious to the gasping thug. “Let me end this, Evan,” said Todd, nodding to Miguel. Evan didn’t have to say a word, he looked at Todd. And just like that, Todd dropped the thug on the ground, then squatted down next to him, and whispered into his hear. “You see that guy?” he said, pointing to Evan. “I’m his bitch. And now, you’re mine. And this is my neighborhood. Don’t make me angry ever again bitch, because you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.” Todd stood up and caught his reflection in the SUV. At that moment, he finally became fully self-aware: thanks to Evan’s cum, Todd now stood 6’6” tall. He lingered on his image as he heard Evan say: “315lbs of pure muscle Todd.” Evan walked towards Todd, and placed his hand on Todd’s shoulder. Todd’s massive chest was slowly rising, and Evan knew that he had only temporarily tamped down his rage. Practically frothing at the mouth, and his massive new body covered in a sheen of sweat, Todd looked up at Evan. “That’s a lot of power my cum just pumped into your muscle fiber, Todd. I didn’t want to trigger the transformation until I knew you could handle it.” “Yes Evan, I can.” “You’re my savage beast now Todd, I hope you realize what that means.” “Anything for you Evan,” he said breathlessly. He nodded at Miguel, who was still on the ground. “Let me show you. I’ll end him.” “No, Evan, but now I know your devotion to me is unquestioned.” He poked a finger into Todd’s thick chest. “You are my creation, and my savage beast, understood?” “Yes, Evan,” said Todd. Then looking down at Miguel, he growled, “You’re mine now.” And Miguel immediately blew a massive load of cum in his sweat pants. He watched in awe as a shirtless Todd got into the driver’s seat of the SUV. “Now let’s get back to the shop, we have a lot of work to do,” said Evan.

Hey guys, it’s been a while since the last instalment. Hope you enjoy! I had very little time to relax but was so thankful these two gods were here to guide me through this muscle worshippers dream. My hole was stretched open and was slowly dribbling Colt's superior cum out. I was laying down on the bed between these two hunks, completely overshadowed by their existence. I had to keep reminding myself that these two possessed more than eight times my meager body weight in muscle. That thought mixed with the thought that they could do anything they wanted to me was intoxicating. Both Colt and Ox were on their sides looking down at me, their big hands caressing my tiny legs. It looked like they could wrap their hands around my thigh if they wanted to. "Are you fading on us? We're going to have to work on your stamina little guy." Ox's tone had sofetned a bit now that Colt and I had come down from our climax. "After all, you still haven't experienced the bucking bronco!" I was a bit confused as to what he was talking about and it showed in my face. "The bucking bronco?" I said, nearly in a whisper. "Oh yes, I can tell by the way you look at our herculean bodies, this is something you will enjoy!" Ox said, "Athough, because I can tell you're weak right now, I am going to have to give you some extra support. You mind if I take him for a spin Colt?" Stil lying down, the spent Colt sat up a bit. His muscular body shifted up and his big pecs hung a few inches over his ripped abs. "Nah, this I'd like to watch. I don't think we've ever had someone quite as small as little Alex to play with. Our big muscles are a playground for the little runt." Colt bounced his pecs with that last sentence and lo and behold, my small cock started to rise again. Transfixed by the site of Colt's pillow-like pecs, I hadn't noticed that Ox had stood up to his full 6'10" height. He reached over and grabbed my body like a regular person grabs a peice of clothing. I was still tired but excited for what this muscle god had planned for my small, 5'1", 95 lbs body. He quickly manuevered me exactly where he wanted and suddenly the 'bucking bronco' made sense. There I was, straddling Ox's huge bicep, both my legs were stretched wide as my dripping hole continued to leak Colt's cum onto this hulk's gargantuan right arm. I was facing a vein-filled forearm that I was pretty sure had more muscle in it than I did in my whole body. I braced myself up against Ox's forearm as he brought his arm up in an awesome bicep flex. My whole body moved as the bicep between my legs grew twice as large and I felt my used hole stretch to accomodate this rock hard bicep. I moaned as I came to the realization of what was going to happen next, Ox was going to fuck me with his bicep. "H-how big?" I said with a wide-eyed expression on my face. I was hugging the huge forearm in front of me that seemed to dwarf my body. "This old bad-boy?" Ox said as he flexed a few times. My body jerked violoently and my hole was stretched by the vein on his bicep. "You'll get to measure them later but last time I got a runt like you to measure them they were at 32"." I gasped at the number. How was it that Ox had an arm so large? An arm capable of doing whatever it wanted to anyone on earth. "My arm is ready to fuck you Alex, do you feel it twitching?" I did. I felt the power in that arm and quaked with anticipation. "First, I'm going to provide a little more support," said Ox as his hand cupped my head. I was now sat on this flex arm, hand on my head, with my arms reached out and hugging the large muscular forearm in front of me. "And adjust this little guy." My cock was previosuly wedged in an awkward position between my leg and his arm but now it was free to run up and down the veiny forearm. He gave a few more test flexes and I cried out in pleasure. How was it that this god of a man was able to provide such pleasure with his muscles? The jerking was a bit more controlled with his hand firmly resting on my head, keeping me in place. Other areas of my body were less controlled however. Ox had doused his left hand with salivia and rubbed it all around my cock and his right forearm. This relieved some of the friction and sent me into ecstasy as he started to increase the pace. He brought his arm down from the 90 degree pose and had me lean forward on his forearm. "Yeah, you like when even my bicep dominates you completely don't you runt? Take a ride on a man's arm and feel the power!" Ox said with enthusiasm. THe flexing was now relentless, I didn't know where I was as my whole body felt like a can of paint being mixed in a paint can shaker. My hole was spasming as the sweaty bicep, mixed with Colt's cum was overwhelming my senses. "Tell your muscle god you like it when he fucks you with his muscles!" Ox demanded. "I love it sir, please don't stop! You are a god who deserves to do whatever you want with my body!" My speech was partially muffled by the big forearm I was leaning onto for support. My poor cock didn't know how to feel as Ox's forearm acted as a solid wall of muscle. I looked down and saw through my blurred vision that Ox was jerking his own cock off, excited by my moans of adoration. "Yeah, work that huge cock bro!" said Colt from the bed. "Please sir, cover me in your muscle god cum. I am not worthy but would be blessed!" "Ahhh fuck, seing your puny little body fly up and down is so fucking hot you little shrimp! You cum when daddy tells you to" "Yes daddy!" I yelled. My hole was stretched wide by this huge arm and my cock was aching for release as it rubbed up and down Ox's forearm. "Ahhhhhhh fuck! Cum you little runt!" I came in another violent orgasm as Ox showered me in his sweet cum. The ecstasy I felt was unreal. I was able to provide some level of pleasure to these gods and I felt absolutely intoxicated. My spent body colasped on Ox's arm. I had a little bit of time to rest before Colt and Ox moved onto the shower...

Three Chad inhaled deeply as the most intense orgasm of his life slowly dissolved from his new grown body. He tossed the limp, cum-soaked body of the drained football player in his grasp down to the ground. He yanked the electrode from his own massive chest and threw it atop the desk. He tramped over to the door, stopped at the pile of clothes the assistant coach had brought in earlier and put them on. He marveled at the tightness of the sweatpants and enjoyed how they hugged his thickly muscled legs. The tank top protested with tearing noises as the massive muscles of his torso stretched it to its limits. He looked back and grinned: the assistant coach stood panting at his desk, recovering from his orgasm and Tyler was passed out on the floor in a pool of cum. He threw open the door and left, not caring about the two lesser men. Assistant coach Mr. Blake slowly regained control of his senses. He had seen the now huge gymnast leave but the effects of his overwhelming orgasm caused by the erotic scene had prevented him from moving or speaking. Only now he realized he was holding his deflating cock in his right hand and noticed the cum spread across his desk. Embarrassment spread through him and he quickly put his dick back in his boxers and zipped up his pants. "Tyler!", he said while he saw the emaciated guy lying on the floor before his desk. Tyler grunted. He heard someone call his name and opened his eyes. It seemed like he returned from being fast asleep. He blinked his eyes a few times before realizing he was on the floor. "Coach?", he mumbled weakly as he recognized the figure standing at the desk and looking down on him. "Can you get up?", Mr. Blake asked. Tyler nodded and stood up very slowly. His body felt completely worn out as if he had gone through the hardest training ever. He grabbed the desk for support to prevent his wobbly legs from giving out. "What the…", he peeped in his now high-pitched girlish voice while he looked down at his body. His entire torso was coated in a thick layer of sticky spunk that dripped down. He gasped when he comprehended what had happened. "He… took it all. How?", he mumbled at the assistant coach. Mr. Blake hit a few buttons on the device and began reading through the data. "I think when you drained his muscles, your body reached its natural limits. That's why your growth slowed down and your muscles hurt at the end", he said and continued reading, "There was still some excess energy left in the electrode on your chest. Energy waiting to be used. When Chad touched your body the excess energy returned to the muscles it came from and somehow the transfer restarted." "But why didn't he stop growing?", Tyler peeped in response. "Seems like his body's limits weren't met yet", assistant coach Mr. Blake replied. "I have to get my muscles back. I can't do anything on the field like this. I look like a boy", Tyler cried out and tears filed his eyes. "We'll find a way to get your muscles back, son. I'll talk to Chad. Get cleaned up first and get some rest", assistant coach Mr. Blake said and gently tore the electrode from Tyler's flat chest. He placed the two electrodes and the device in the top drawer of his desk and locked it. Tyler walked over to the locker room, carefully looking around. He sighed in relief to find it empty and went into the shower area, avoiding to look at his reflection in the mirror. He turned on the shower and let the hot water rinse the sticky cum from his body. The thick goo that had begun drying and crusting, resisted the water and it took him half an hour to get the last remnants off. He turned off the shower, grabbed a towel and went back into the locker room. He turned around the corner and bumped into two guys coming into the shower zone. The impact sent him down on his ass. "Watch it, squirt!", one of the guys snarled. "Who let the chess team in?", the other one said laughingly. Tyler caught back up and recognized the two: it were 2 freshmen football players he'd given some workout pointers the past weeks. They had practically begged him to help them, proud that one of the team stars let them train with him. Now, the two 165 pound guys dwarfed him. "Sorry", he peeped and retreated into the locker room, happy they hadn't recognized him. He put on some old freshman's clothes, ignoring how they hung from him like a tent and having to hold the pants up when he went to his room. The next morning Tyler awoke by the sound of his phone. He grabbed it and read the message Tom just sent: "Hope you're busting your ass to win the game. Back in the gym in two weeks." Tears welled up in his eyes as Tyler thought of the good times he'd lived on and off the field with Tom. He'd do anything to get his muscles back. He decided to go talk to Chad. The guy had accidentally taken his muscles as a result of the first transfer. The guy was probably just as upset as he was. He would convince the gymnast to give back his muscles and let things go back to normal. A knock on the door tore him from his thoughts. He opened the door and saw a box. He took it, his thin arms shaking from the effort, closed the door and put the box on his bed. He opened it and read the note. "Some clothes that will fit. Trying to figure out to get your muscles back. Mr. Blake" Tyler took the clothes, more tears in his eyes as he saw that it were kid size pants, t-shirts and sweaters. He quickly put on some clothes, that still looked somewhat big on him and decided to go talk to Chad right away. He looked up the number of Chad's room in the online register and left. The walk took him to the other part of campus where the freshmen were housed. Tyler entered the building he'd stayed in a couple of years ago and took the stairs to the top floor where the athletes had their rooms. His heart was pounding in his flat chest and he was breathing heavily when he reached the top of the stairs. He walked through the long corridor, reading off the numbers on the doors. When he was midway the ill-lit hallway, two gorgeous female students came in his direction. He retreated against the wall, hoping they wouldn't see him. "Never had a guy that could go all night", the brunette said, "I came four times." "Me too", the blond one giggled in response, "And the size of him. Thought he would tear me open." "And his muscles. So big and hard", the brunette replied, "Even bigger than Tom". "Hope he's up for a repeat tonight", the blond one said, "Made me forget about Tyler in a flash. Who needs seniors when we have freshmen this size?". Tyler's face was beet red as he heard the girls' remarks. Chad had been fucking his and Tom's girl, the two hottest and most sought after cheerleaders in Orchid University. Perhaps he's not as upset as I thought, he said to himself as his gaze followed the two cheerleaders walking by and disappearing down the stairs. He waited another minute until their footsteps weren't hearable anymore. He continued his way and stepped over to the door of Chad's room. His heart beated in his throat when he knocked. He knocked a second time but got no reaction. His hand reached for the doorknob. He turned it and the door opened. At the same moment the door of the next room on the right opened. Tyler entered Chad's room instinctively and shut the door behind him. "Hello, Chad?", he asked as he looked around the deserted room. He heard water running in the adjacent bathroom. The smell of sweat, musk, cum and sex hung in the air. It filled his nose while he was standing in the middle of the room, staring at the bed. He could only imagine the things it had witnessed last night. The water stopped running in the bathroom. Tyler's mind filled with images of the two cheerleaders and Chad. Unaware of his surroundings, he stepped closer to the bed and inhaled sharply to take in more of the uber-masculine smell it emanated. A noise made him come back to reality and look aside to the door of the bathroom. "Well well. Look who's here", Chad rumbled in his deep voice. Tyler took a step back as the now massive gymnast stepped into the room, his wide shoulders brushing the doorframe. "I… euh… I…", he peeped but words died in his throat with the hulking guy standing a few feet away. Every bit of logic evaporated from his mind while his eyes travelled along the mighty torso his muscles had helped to create. Every mound of muscle of round and full, striated and crossed with veins beneath the paper-thin skin. The perfectly round, cannonball-sized delts showed the separation between the different heads of the muscle and created a strong line that gave the guy an awesome broadness; his meaty traps capped the strong line and mounded up into his bull-sized neck; his thick arms hung relaxed at his sides, his biceps big and bulky beneath his skin with a large vein snaking along them with several smaller ones branching of across and into the mounds of muscle; his triceps jutted hard from the back of his arms, adding more thickness to them; his forearms crammed with corded muscles; the striated beef of his wide, round and full pecs protruded like armor-plates from his chest; his fantastic eight-pack rippled with every breath he took, highlighting the grooves separating the individual abs; beneath the towel wrapped around the tight waist the mass of his thick quads pressed against the fabric and the outline of his hefty cock was visible. The tan the gymnast had taken from Tyler looked better and more pronounced, giving the guy a near Latino-look and highlighting the definition of his massive muscles even more. Chad grinned smugly at the small guy's reaction. He noted the awe in his eyes and saw the bulge forming in the guy's sweatpants. "We both know what you want, little guy", he rumbled and dropped the towel. Tyler didn't hear the remark. He just couldn't fathom the incredible size and perfect symmetry the gymnast had grown into. Just yesterday the guy was among the smallest athletes with his 148 pounds, but now, with the 100 pounds of muscle and the foot of extra height he'd added to his frame, he radiated strength and masculinity. Lust for the fantastic body in front of him flooded Tyler's mind. Lust beyond anything he'd ever felt for the list of cheerleaders he'd dated. Lust that kept him from taking his eyes from the majestic muscles. A stirring movement tore his gaze down the mighty torso. He blinked his eyes in amazement as the meaty snake between the heavily muscled quads began swelling. Within seconds it sprang to its 9 inches and pointed at him. He looked up pleadingly into the icy blue eyes. Chad read the look of total submission in the runt's gaze, his own grin broadening. Tyler stepped forward and kneeled before the incredibly oversized gymnast. He stared at the fleshy snake right in front of his face. Veins coiled along the long and hefty shaft that pulsed on the rhythm of the guy's heartbeat. He took the thick, purple head in his mouth and slowly slid the cock inside. Chad rumbled in pleasure as the wet hotness slowly engulfed the sensitive skin of his 9 incher. He grabbed the back of the frail guy's head and shoved his cock fully inside the mouth. Tyler gagged as the fleshy snake invaded his mouth forcefully, his nose smacking into the bottom row of the hard eight-pack from the force of the gymnast's arm. His lips were stretched to their limits by the thickness of the hard shaft and the head hit the back of his throat. He placed his hands atop the heavily muscled quads for support. From his kneeling position the heavyweight bodybuilder-sized gymnast looked even bigger: his tight waist leading up to his insanely wide shoulders gave him an intimidating v-taper. He couldn't see anything past the thickly protruding shelf of pecs. His own 3 incher was now leaking pre-cum in his briefs. Chad held the back of the small head in his left hand and began thrusting his hips back and forth as he face fucked the fallen football star. "Mghn", he groaned as he felt the guy's tongue trace the veins along his engorged shaft. He felt all-powerful dominating the once fitness model-like athlete but now boyish runt who clearly lusted after his heavily muscled body. The feeling of sheer physical superiority made him feel unstoppable. A shudder went through his mighty body, his fantastic eight-pack flexed, a loud and deeply resonating moan escaped his mouth as an intense orgasm washed over him. "YEAUGHN", he roared as his heavy balls churned and rushed out a load of cum through his fully engorged 9 incher into the eager mouth. Tyler saw the strong abs flex before his eyes and felt the earthquake of pleasure wave through the hulking man. The deep resounding roar vibrated down his own puny body like thunder. He felt the fleshy snake jolt in his mouth and it filled his mouth in a flash, some of the excess liquid leaked from the corner of his mouth. He gulped the creamy spunk down as fast as he could but the snake already spat out a second blast when only half of the first load had been gulped down. He gagged as cum now steadily flowed from the corner of his mouth onto the base of the 9 incher. He tried breathing through his nose but cum also flowed from it. His own pencil dick released its load into his briefs. "YEAUGhn", Chad rumbled once more as his balls shot out a third thick load. Despite the long night with the two hottest cheerleaders on campus, his orgasm didn't wear down. The huge amount of testosterone flowing through his 248 pound, muscle-packed body gave him an unmatched stamina. Another moan escaped his mouth as a fourth load rushed from his cock. He felt the sticky juice slide along the base of his shaft and onto his balls and drip onto his huge quads. Tyler couldn't even gag anymore: his mouth was overfilled with the sticky spunk that now streamed thickly from the corners of his mouth onto the mighty cock; an identical amount flowed from his nose. By the fifth blast, cum even leaked from his ears as the liquid sought an exit from his overstuffed mouth. He felt his stomach bloat from the insane amount of semen filling it. He tried freeing himself from the 9 incher but the paw at the back of his head easily held him in place. His own 3 incher kept leaking the watery content of his small balls into his soaked briefs. A wet patch began forming at the front of his sweatpants as the liquid leaked through his briefs. He feebly pushed against the mighty quads but his entire body was no match for the heavyweight bodybuilder-sized gymnast's right arm. Chad felt the weak attempts of the fallen football player against his grasp. The realization that one of his arms was now stronger than the former number two of the football team sent another rush of power from his mind through his huge body. "FUUUUAAAAAARK!", he bellowed as his orgasm intensified even more. A sixth and seventh load were rushed out off his balls nearly at the same time. The force of the combined blasts pushed his 9 incher from the overstuffed mouth and coated the boyish guy's face with the final part of the seventh load. Even only the last third of that blast was enough the cover most of the guy's face. Tyler didn't even have time to blink his eyes as the fleshy snake pushed itself from his mouth: one moment it was adding to his overstuffed mouth, the next it covered nearly his entire face in a layer of liquid heat. Another shot hit his face, the sticky goo splattering against his nose and forehead, coating the rest of his face and some of his hair. He felt the paw release the back of his head and his body fell backwards, worn out by the force of the hulking gymnast's orgasm. Chad breathed in heavily, his mighty chest heaving, as the orgasm faded from his sweaty, muscle-crammed body. A faint thud made him look down. The smug grin returned on his face at the sight: at his feet the depleted athlete was lying on his back, his face and hair drenched with cum and an obvious wet stain on the front of his kid size sweatpants. After three deep breaths, Chad's body felt fully recovered. Tyler wiped the thick spunk from his eyes and slowly sat up. He looked up and saw some last hefty drips leak from the slowly deflating cock between the thick quads. His gaze travelled further up along the deep canyon in the center of the majestic eight-pack, over the meaty slabs that formed the armor plate-like chest into the icy blue eyes of the 6'2, 248 pound gymnast. His own flat chest was still heaving as his 5', 87 pound body was still recovering from the experience. His nose was invaded by the odor of the hulking man's sweaty musk mixed with the stench of his cum that filled the room. "Seems like you enjoyed that even more than me", Chad growled as he began putting on some clothes. "Can't wait to see what this body can do in the gym", he said and walked to the door, "Clean up your mess and get lost". It appeared that Chad's body could do a lot: he tore through the exercises, breaking every record in the gym. His loud grunts and shouts chased whatever other students from the gym, except for the two freshmen that used to train with Tyler. They offered to spot the massive guy and followed him from exercise to exercise, marveling at the amount of weight he was using. "8…9…10", Chad grunted and racked the bar on the bench press with the combined help of the two 165 pound athletes. "Fuck, man. Three sets of ten reps with 500 pounds", they said in disbelief as the huge guy sat up on the bench, "Why did you transfer in here for senior year?". Chad laughed at the remark, his pumped chest making tears in his tight tank top. "I'm new here. Freshman like you guys", he replied, "I'm in the room next to yours". The two football players couldn't believe their ears. The biggest guy they'd ever seen was their age. "Sure explains those noises last night", one of them said. "Most of those came from the two cheerleaders", Chad answered with a smug grin, "Ya guys should have come over to join the action." Before the guys could react, assistant coach Mr. Blake appeared in the gym and called out to them: "Chad could you join me in my office?". "Catch ya later guys", Chad said and strutted away from the bench into the office. "What's up, Mr. B?", he asked as he shut the door and faced the assistant coach. Assistant coach Mr. Blake cleared his throat, trying to hide the intimidation from the huge athlete before his desk. "Well eum… Chad.. you see…", he mumbled, "you took Tyler's muscles by accident…". "Took back what he stole from me", Chad interrupted, "Not my fault that his weak body couldn't resist being drained into me". "I'm not blaming you", assistant coach Mr. Blake said quickly, "It was an accident like I said. We could settle things back to normal. Give Tyler his muscles back so he can play and you can go back to gymnastics". "I'm not giving up my muscles", Chad barked back. "Well… I see…", assistant coach Mr. Blake let up as his mind tried to come up with a solution, "Why don't you join the football team then? You could become our new star. Look at you. You would be unstoppable on the field". "Not interested", Chad replied, "I'm feeling more for bodybuilding. Don't ya think this body would like great on stage, Mr. B?". He ripped off his tank top and revealed his heavily muscled torso. His pumped pecs protruded thickly from his chest. He hit a most muscular, making his pecs explode with striations and his meaty arms dig into the protruding mass. Assistant coach Mr. Blake's mouth went dry at the scene. His eyes widened to saucers at the display of raw strength. Chad noticed the awe in the assistant coach's eyes while he relaxed his pose and his right hand felt the weight of his pecs. "Get over here, little man", he said, "And worship my muscles". Assistant coach Mr. Blake instinctively obeyed the huge man's command. He got up from his chair, stepped around the desk and stopped in front of the hulking athlete. He raised his shaking hands and placed them onto the protruding rack. "Wow", he muttered as he felt like he was touching hot concrete. His fingers couldn't dent the fully relaxed, yet rock-hard meat underneath the paper-thin, tanned skin. "Feel my awesome power", Chad growled as he enjoyed the feeling of being worshipped. He flexed his pecs, making them harden under the frail touch. Assistant coach Mr. Blake's eyes widened in disbelief as the meaty chest exploded with striations and veins and pushed his hands open. His dick instantly creamed his boxers, making his body shudder. He fell back with his ass against the desk. Chad grinned at the reaction and threw a double bicep pose. His arms exploded into perfectly round, 24 inch orbs of hard meat crisscrossed with veins. "Fuck yeah" he growled as he hardened his flex and felt the huge muscle stretch his tanned skin. He grabbed the assistant coach's shirt, lifted him and tossed him atop the desk with his back facing the ceiling. Before assistant coach Mr. Blake could react, he felt his pants and boxers being yanked down. He heard the huge athlete pull down his own sweatpants and felt the thick head of the man's cock brush against his ass. "No, please", he mumbled. Chad didn't listen. He grabbed the assistant coach's hip with his left paw and rammed his 9 incher inside the man's ass. "Ugh", assistant coach Mr. Blake cried out as his clenched defenses were destroyed and the fleshy snake stretched his ass. He grabbed the end of his desk for support, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grasp. The pain prevented him from speaking. Chad kept his left paw on the other man's hip and placed his right paw casually on his own hip as he began pumping away. His eight-pack rippled on the rhythm of his thrusts. Faster and harder. He pumped his dick in and out like a jackhammer, plowing and destroying the clamping ass. Within a minute orgasm flooded his mighty body and his dick filled the ass. Assistant coach Mr. Blake grunted in pain as his insides were flooded with the huge man's spunk. His own cock leaked another load against the side of his desk. The pressure in his ass kept building and cum was now steadily flowing out of it along the shaft. After a good seven loads Chad's orgasm cooled down and he pulled his cock from the worn out ass. A thick flow of his cum followed. He pulled up his pants and left.

Links to other chapters: Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 M/M "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 24 - Further Encounters 5: Sam and Casey Again, and Moster and the Cadets Chapter 23 Field Trips, Part 2 – Casey Rediscovers Muscle Worship, And Makes a New Friend February 10th, 2022 2110 Hours Casey knew he could trust Ensign Victor. Sam was, after all, a muscle worshipper. And Casey was close to the best there was. Casey had long dreamed of his very own muscle worshipper. The legend that bodybuilders are aloof and don’t want to be worshipped? Bullshit. Bodybuilders wanted their very own private worshippers just as much as muscle schmoes wanted bodybuilders. If Casey knew anything at all, he knew that. He’d learned it in LA. And now he was going to tell Sam all about it. And then tell Sam that he knew just exactly what he was. And Sam, of course, was all ears, all solicitation and comfort. Even as he felt his own excitement growing. He felt his cock, too, burgeoning in his trousers, until he didn’t think he could stand it much more. But of course, he’d have to stand it. At least until Casey was finished talking. And so, Sam listened. Patiently, as it happened. And Casey talked and talked. As Sam’s cock got stiffer and stiffer. “So talk about something else. Do you have friends?” “Well. The guys from the cadet dorm, I guess. But I don’t see them anymore. Guess I don’t get out as much as I’d like.” “No friends outside the compound?” “Naw.” “Are the men of The Twenty your friends?” “Well, I’m one of them….” Casey seemed uncomfortable, so Sam moved on. “Family?” Casey looked down, then looked back at Sam. “The Twenty are my family,” he said after a moment. He paused. ‘Guess we seem to be some kind of crazy cult, hunh?” “Kind of, yes.” Casey seemed to want to ask something. Sam half smiled, waiting. Finally he prompted. “Yes?” Casey was clearly embarrassed, but Sam could see determination in his eyes. “It’ll wait. What else?” “Well, how strong are you?” “Pretty strong. Maybe a little stronger than the others. I can bench 800 pounds. Easy. Curl 350. I run really, really fast, too. Oh, and I’m a good diver. I don’t know how that happened, but I am. I can do anything on a diving board. Don’t even think about it. And I look awesome in a Speedo. But I’m not as strong as Moster. Or Abdul. No one is. They could snap me in two.” Casey didn’t mention the Turkish wrestling night when they got covered in oil and he beat Karim Abdul. No sense in scaring Sam by acknowledging that maybe, yeah, just maybe, he was the strongest man there – and just 19. “I don’t believe that.” “Well, maybe not in two. But he could fuck me up pretty good if he wanted to. He’s an extreme fighter.” “I thought you were, too.” “Well, yeah…. .” “You got thrown out of school for fighting.” “Only once. I only fought once,” he said. “Some guy pissed you off?” Casey smiled. “18 guys pissed me off.” “Wow.” “Yeah, wow. I got ‘em all good, though.” “One after the other?” “All at once.” Casey grinned cockily. “I beat the shit out of all of them.” “Why?” “I got tired of them making fun of me.” “They made fun of you? Sounds dangerous.” “I wasn’t as big then.” “No, of course not. Why were they making fun of you?” Casey looked hard at Sam, and bit his lip. Then he shrugged his shoulders as if determined. He stood up, towering over the table. Sam watched him evenly. Casey reached down and unzipped the steel fly of his pants. He reached his hand in and pulled out his enormous, limp cock. He squatted so that his hips were even with the tabletop. It flopped heavily and noisily on the surface. Thwack. "…. And, boom… there it is,” said Casey. “There it is.” He looked up, shrugged and smiled shyly. “Yes, there it is.” “See, it’s really, really big.” Sam took in the tool’s impossible size for a moment, and whistled. “Yes, I see that. Nice,” he said sweetly. “It’s very big.” “It’s huge,” said Casey, with a sweet blend of sadness and pride. “It’s more than a 15 inches long. It’s like a fucking snake with a life of it’s own. I get hard all the time. I could never hide it in anything I wore. The kids at the home used to laugh at me, call me freak.” “They were jealous, no doubt.” “Probably, yeah, maybe, but fuck. But I got so sick of it.” He started to stuff it back into his jeans. “So one night, I beat them all up.” Sam reached out and lightly touched Casey’s hand. “It’s okay. Keep it out.” Casey looked up, hopefully. “You like it?” “I do.” Casey looked hard at him. He was suddenly shy. He wanted to tell Sam about the field trips for worship, and there was a lot more to tell, too. But he wasn’t certain how it would sound. Sam wanted to help him. “Was there a first time you were worshipped by ‘investors’? By a group of men you didn’t know before?” “Yeah…” “For money?” Pause. “Uh hunh.” Casey was clearly now afraid Sam would judge him. “A lot of money?” Casey didn’t quite know how to tell him exactly how much. “I’m not a prostitute.” “No, I know that. You’re not,” said Sam, looking pensively at Casey’s huge penis extending out of his open fly, lying quietly on the tabletop. “What you are is an uncommonly huge, sexual, handsome 19-year old bodybuilder with a need to show … what you have.” Casey looked at him gratefully. Now he knew he was falling in love with the calm young Navy officer. But even here, in the relative safety of his quarters at Valhalla Labs, and with the gym and training rooms and all the other men so close by, and especially after that wacky muscleshow earlier in the evening to the military brass, the sweet-natured muscle giant was suddenly seized with nervousness. But Sam seemed okay with it. And, indeed, he was. “And…how was it? The first time you were worshipped by strangers?” “Okay. I guess it was okay.” He paused, and his eyes flickered a bit. With excitement, at the memory. “Who were they?” “Some Hollywood dudes.” Sam suddenly recalled. Was that last year in LA the night that…? Oh, God! YES. It was briefly in the TMZ reports late last year, the latest conservative blast against the Hollywood Liberal Elite, some big party night that went south and required some hospitalizations and a lot of huge money. And then – silence on it. All stories withdrawn. No word on it. He’d googled it a few times. Nothing. But Casey remembered. In fact, it was incredible – all those fat old rich men schmoes, and then his new friend Mike later on privately swooning, licking his pecs and swooning over his big biceps and with his sweet little face in his hard butt and then closely inspecting with awe his mighty machine…. But he wasn’t quite sure about how all this would sound to Sam. There was a pause. Sam gazed at the muscle monster boy evenly a moment. “You can tell me all about it. I’m not here to judge.” Casey remembered the night. And his new friend, Mike. “I wonder how I’m gonna tell Sam about Mike?” he worried to himself. After a brief pause, Casey made his decision, and manfully, went on with his story. December 5th, 2021 Los Angeles: 2100 Hours The bus pulled up the drive at 9 PM, the first stop of the evening. It was a large cliff side home high in the Hollywood Hills, lavish and dark, with a glimmering Olympic-sized pool in the back and fountains quietly spraying gallons of illegal water. Beyond and far below, the glittering lights of LA shone in the far distance. Zaftig’s longtime off campus associate, the puny weasel Dr. Shaft, would be waiting inside, in attendance with a group of 9 investors, all quite anxious to see the young gods in action. The bodybuilders filed off the bus in the dark. “Golly, who lives here?” asked Hension, awestruck by the size of the house. “Some Hollywood dude movie producer,” muttered Lang. “Who cares? Time to FLEX.” Casey barely noticed. He was eager, for soon he’d be headed back to his private muscle planet, the place he first visited on the morning his cadet buddies came to say goodbye and stayed a little to admire his muscles. He was all ready to flex for these dudes. He neither knew nor cared who they were. Sergeant Moster, who had gotten off the bus first, quietly barked orders in the large circular drive. Moster, who had gotten off the bus first, quietly barked orders in the large circular drive. “Inspection. Strip down, men,” he commanded. “I don’t want to keep our hosts waiting.” The ten musclemen hopped and danced in the half light, removing slacks, baggies, t-shirts, jeans, shorts, underwear, jock straps, thongs, and boots as poor long-suffering Dr. Irving ran from man to man, frantically gathering up discarded clothing, quickly organizing as to owner, and distributing the proper poser to the proper man. Each poser was personally assigned, custom-tailored to cut across inches south of the lower abs, reveal generous slices of meaty glutes in back, and with frontal sag sufficient to generously reveal the top six inches of root and thick, plunging shaft of each man. The side straps, while thin, were sufficiently strong to hold even at top erection. “Oil up, men.” Bottles of mineral oil were passed around, and the men dutifully applied slathers of oil to their muscles. Finally they were ready, their muscles gleaming in the night. “Line up, squad,” said Moster. “Adjust your posers. When you pull your pants down, I want these dudes to see your top six inches of root and cockshaft.” He had stripped down himself and was now rubbing his own oil in to his mountainous black muscles. “I know with some of you that still leaves another 6 inches or more covered up. Right, Casey?” “More,” said Casey. Still, in the dark Casey turned deep red, still immediately shamed by the thoughts of his huge, unhideable cock. He still wasn’t quite over those years of taunting. Which always flashed his thoughts quickly to Tiffany. Good thing the ginger-haired terror wasn’t with them tonight. Casey always performed better when that boy was nowhere near. “Waring, get over here and do my back.” Waring went to Moster, dutifully pouring oil onto his calloused palms, mixing them back and forth as if he was tossing a muscle salad, and smacked Moster’s broad back hard, rubbing thick oil deep into Moster’s wide lats. The Sergeant felt the man’s rough blisters on his back and smiled. “You’ve been working, Private.” “Yes, sir, I sure have, sir.” The men fell into line, and awaited inspection. Moster paced in front of the muscle lineup and critically appraised his special forces team: Alvarez, Lang, Hension, Schumacher, and Waring. Washington, Abdul, Obatu, Gunst and Rockland. Muscle gods all. He nodded his satisfaction. “Line up according to height. Shortest man first. Private Hension, that’s you.” Hension was pushed to the head of the line. “Put the pretty boy first,” guffawed Obatu. Hension colored deeply, embarrassed as always to be referred to as the group ‘pretty boy’, but obeyed orders. “Dr. Irving, distribute White Caps,” Moster ordered. Irving passed the ration of capsules to the group. “It’s going that be that kind of showing, hunh?” chuckled Obatu. He popped a capsule and within seconds began to envision his powerful sexual fantasies come to life. He tugged slightly on his poser and glanced down to make sure the prominent, pulsing thick veins of his mighty dipping cockshaft were showing. He nudged Washington. “Check it out,” he said. Washington nodded. “Suckable,” he said, busily squeezing his own nipples into pointy hardness. Moster crossed behind the men and walked along, surveyed the lineup of rolling, hard, powerful glutes. He nodded. Huge mountains of gleaming, perfect, rock hard butt. “Butthole inspection,” he announced. Corporal Karim wished he had his butt plug with him, but didn’t betray himself with even a flicker across his stern face. He scowled, but even so Moster knew what the man wanted. He glanced down at Karim’s achingly firm glutes. “You clean, Corporal?” he asked. “Yes, sir.” “Good.” Moster knelt, lowered the man’s posers for a moment to quad height, and quickly inserted his thick fist deeply up inside the man’s butthole, up to his wrist. Karim never flinched. Moster rotated his fist, and just as quickly withdrew, with a butthole POP!, noting to his satisfaction that the Corporal was indeed clean. “Keep your concentration.” He wiped his fist with anti-bacterial lube and moved on to the next man. Hension was looking apprehensive. Moster approached him. “Any women inside?” Hension asked nervously. “Why do you ask, Private?” “Sir, for my best performance, sir, I like to get my face slapped first. And during. By a pretty girl with muscles.” “Not here tonight,” said Moster. “Bend over.” “Yes, sir!” Hension bent over, showing his twin glutes of extreme hardness, shape and striation. Moster lowered the muscleboy’s posers, made a fist, and once again plunged his fist up to his wrist up Hension’s taut butthole, twisting, probing and turning. Like Abdul, Hension never even raised an eyebrow as his welcoming rosebud enveloped the powerful fist. He was excited about lay ahead. His cock began its 12-inch journey to solid stiffness. He pulled his posers back up with some difficulty and wrapped the taut cloth as best he could around his growing engine. Alvarez appeared serene. He knew a good Pose and Approve session was ahead. Lang glanced at him and smiled. Alvarez was best with an audience. An admiring audience. His cock twitched in anticipation. Moster was quick with Alvarez, nodding approval, quickly inserting a probing fist, and moving on to Lang, doing the same. Up the drive at the house, a curtain fluttered. Someone was watching. Alvarez nudged Lang. “What?” asked Lang, clueless. “You see that?” “See what?” Alvarez smiled. “This is gonna be fun.” He stood “Let’s see those biceps, Gunst,” Moster commanded. Gunst complied, and flexed his meaty guns. “26 inches this morning, sir.” “Excellent. Turn around and bend over.” Gunst complied and Moster’s fist entered his butthole. He nodded satisfaction. Moster continued down the line of musclemen, inspecting pecs, nipples, hard abs, and ending with each man by inserting a giant fist up an eager butthole. Finally it was Casey’s turn. “Ever been fisted before?” Moster asked crisply. Casey had to admit it. “Yes, sir.” He turned around and bent over, his perfect butt now in Moster’s face, his fists buried in his obliques, jutting out his butt. It was an incredible ass. Two round globes of muscular golden flesh, perfect, hard-as-nails ovals of sleek construction. Powerful, huge, an incredible human loading dock of rounded power. Inside the darkened buttcrack Moster could see close-up the throbbing, inviting deep of Casey’s perfect butthole. Moster plunged his fist in, and turned it, pulling it out again after a minute. Clean as a whistle. “Good work, Rockland. “ Casey stood, turned and smiled. “I think you’re ready.” He turned to the driver, standing by the bus, impassively staring. “Ferdinand, Dr. Irving, come back in an hour. We should be done by then.” Then, quietly, he asked Irving, “Did the money come in yet?” “This afternoon, sir,” answered Irving. “$35,000.” “Good.” Moster took his place at the end of the line. “Shaft here yet?” “Inside, Sir.” Dr. Irving fiddled with his phone, getting frantic texts from Dr. Shaft. “Good. Give the men back their clothes. Men, get dressed.” Much fumbling and hopping about in the dark. Then - “Move out, men.” The musclemen marched into the entranceway of the one-story cliff side glass house and, single file, marched into the brightly lit living room. Inside, nine manicured, pampered, plumpish Hollywood movie execs, dressed in expensive Italian suits, ties down, were draped around the room, propped up on large plush sofas, drinks in hand, cellphones and Blackberries at the ready, waiting inside. Two or three were handsome enough to gain Alvarez’s slight interest. The smell of marijuana wafted through the air. They’d been drinking. And smoking. And snorting lines of coke. In fact, they all appeared smashed. And ready to see serious muscle. The tenth, a slender young man, sat separately, almost shyly, by himself, across the room on a smaller sofa, right before the vast picture window with the lights of LA twinkling in the distance. “Fucking finally! Bring on the talent!” one of the fat schmoes yelled as the men entered. But as the musclemen got into the room and turned, facing their clients, at full attention, the movie dudes were stunned into silence. “Holy shit…look at them!” "Fuckin' A..." For their part, the musclemen were themselves stunned into a moment silence by the lavishness of the room that extended before them, and the extraordinary view of the city through the plate glass windows, far, far below. The drapes had been opened. The moon shone full in the sky. “Wow,” breathed Lang. “Where the fuck are we?” "Fuckin' A is right," whispered Hension. There were a few moments on silence while everyone was amazed, albeit for different reasons. Sergeant Moster was first to retain his composure. "Gentlemen, thank you for inviting us for the evening. We think we have quite a show ready for your personal delectation..." Dr. Shaft rose from a white sofa. Even as familiar with the muscle in the room as he was, he was never less than stunned each time he saw more than three of the bodybuilders together. The sight of ten of them, including the impossibly giant Sergeant Moster, was enough to momentarily knock the air out of him. “Yes, thank you, and good evening, Sergeant Moster. Good evening, men.” He whispered to Moster. "I'll handle this." Dr. Shaft was excited. The men had not only arrived on time, they all looked….well, incredible. Beyond incredible, in fact. Unreal. Inhuman. The years of P-21 meshed with hardcore raw training had built magnificent muscle specimens unlike the world had ever seen before. No bodybuilding contest – and Shaft had attended hundreds – ever had the kind of raw muscular development that stood before them now. It was as if every muscle on every man had a muscle. Heaped pounds of raw lean man beef. It was staggering. Moster hid his irritation, already planning the next black eye he'd happily plaster on Shaft's face in their next private. “Good evening, Dr. Shaft. Men, you all know ....Dr. Shaft.” Hi, yeah, sure, hello, uh hunh, yeah we see him, etc etc, came from the musclemen. “May I introduce the men to their hosts?” asked Dr. Shaft ceremoniously And the lineup of musclemen turned to their agog clients. Hands at their sides, fists clenched, veins popping, tight white shirts wrapped around massive physiques. Legs spread wide. Quads bursting out of slacks. Biceps about to tear shirt sleeves. Fly bulges loomed to the floor. And the clients, schmoes all, stared back. Breathing. Panting. Disbelieving the universe of muscle they were seeing. Alvarez, Lang, Hension, Schumacher, and Waring. Washington, Abdul, Obatu, Gunst. And Casey Rockland. Team leader, the massive Sergeant Moster. The muscle team was here at last. The clients, schmoes all, stared back. Breathing. Panting. “Fuck, man. They’re fucking huge,” said one of the fattest men. He gulped. “Whatta they gonna do to us?” “You mean…what are they going to do for you,” said Sergeant Moster. “May I present…. nine of the most muscular men on the planet today.” He paused, glanced at his watch. “You have two hours.” He turned to the men. “Men, you may go to work.” The men moved into a line, first marching single file and then fanning out towards the edge of the broad staircase leading down to the sunken living room. At the top step they stopped, stood still, and displayed themselves proudly. Below them, the room of wealthy Hollywood elite schmoes fell into shocked silence, turned their heads, and stared agog at the massive muscle before them. The schmoes were seated together, as if for protection, on a heavy plush creamy white sofa, overloaded with soft, luxurious pillows, extending twenty-five feet across the room from the large picture window. It was a perfect setting for bodybuilder muscle worship. And there they stood. Calm. Blank faced. Each man handsomer than the next. Perfect tanned skin. Waistlines no larger than 32 inches on men each weighing up to 300 pounds – and more. It was going to be a insane night of muscle worship. And a profitable one, too. Shaft had been circulating rumors inside the Hollywood mill for years about this army of ungodly huge and handsome musclemen, and finally had assembled just the sample group of mega-rich movers and shakers that he needed for the initial private presentation. This meant big bucks in the future for Valhalla Labs. Sergeant Moster had delivered as promised, in spite of Dr Zaftig’s worry and misgivings back at the Valhalla Lab. But Shaft had faith. He knew these musclemen. He’d had too many private sessions to not know a little about them all by now. As long as they all behaved, that is, and no one got seriously hurt. They were hard to control, he knew, once they really started flexing and posing and showing it all off with feats of ungodly strength and their insatiable need to dominate. He knew all about his own tendency to wind up in the San Jose ER after particularly enthusiastic sessions with Moster. But, damn, he just couldn’t help it. Shaft had to admit the fantasy of Moster’s (relatively speaking) lightly damaging face punches and the spirited butt spankings he received as punishment for his own poor cock and body and his lame cocksucking was, well, just what he deserved, being the worm he was. And the fantasy memory of all that abuse kept him masturbating feverishly for months after. He hoped his Hollywood schmoes might fare a little lighter punishment than the stuff that he was now addicted to – unless of course they wanted the same treatment? But then, it might get picked up as a tasty little news item, all over TMZ. That couldn’t happen. Could it? It could rock the Hollywood establishment. Top studio heads beaten by massive, crazed bodybuilders in bizarre Hollywood Hills muscle showdown. No. That wouldn’t do. It was all pretty dangerous, but, what the hell. Shaft licked his lips with drooling anticipation and inspected the astounding male muscle display that confronted them all. The ten magnificent young men, plus the-even-huger-still Sergeant Moster, were now lined up, beefy shoulder to shoulder, round and perfect tri-headed delts touching massive delts. They stood in a perfect lineup of muscle on the steps leading from the 20’ ceilinged foyer down into the sunken living room. The entry way was a perfect dais for display, more than 40’ long, roomy enough for a panorama of beautiful beef and rippling vascularity unlike anything the staring schmoes down below had ever seen, or even imagined, before. And even fully dressed in tight, tight t-shirts and ferociously clinging tan slacks, the men were an unbelievable sight to behold. As if carefully posed, men all stood casually with their hands planted on powerful hips, legs spread wide. Muscles gleamed and bulged. Physiques rippled enticingly, displayed for delectation in the clinging super-wide white spandex t-shirts. Every vein, every muscular bulge, every pound of sinew, every cut, every hard-packed slab of fatless lean and bulging male beef was on display for the stunned, wealthy Hollywood insiders. “Jesus fucking Christ,” someone mumbled. “Look at them. They’re not human.” Muscle worship was what these muscle giants lived for. Shaft knew that. Well, it was one of the things they lived for. He was fairly certain they also lived for training, lifting, eating, sex with each other and as many partners, male or female, that they could find. And – of course- getting huger every day. But Shaft couldn’t be sure that muscle worship might not be even more important. And of course, it made sense. After all, weren’t they all getting bigger, handsomer, stronger, more muscular, and more aggressive just so they could be worshipped? It hardly mattered, no more than the original intent of Dr. Zaftig all those years ago when he first started research on creating the ultimate team of massive male bodybuilders. For there they were, eleven muscle gods, still and easy, unmoving, posed, both tense and calm, showcasing magnificent, perfect male muscularity. And there were nine others, just as huge, handsome, and hung as the men before them, back at the lab. The atmosphere in the room crackled. And Shaft could feel it now, could even see the musclemen’s eager anticipation of the impeding worship of their physiques. Their excitement was just beginning to show, starting to loom now, like a faint musky aroma, getting stronger, seeping into the room. They seemed to be getting bigger, to be growing before them. They were certainly measurably heavier in their tight slacks, their flies just beginning to bulge forward and droop down with pointed pushing, with throbbing penis weight, their erections about to bloom and show and push out and forward and up inside their tightening pants. And considering the price tag of upwards of $85,000 the Hollywood elite schmoes had laid out for this private muscle show, inwardly he was relieved that it had all started out without the slightest hitch. And the new man, Casey Whatever His Name was, was there, too, there on the end. The handsomest of all? Shaft wasn’t sure. And, per Zaftig’s regular reports, on his way to being the biggest? And only 19 years old, too. The promise that lay ahead. He’d better be, at a price tag of $15,000 just for his appearance. That shorter man was also improbably handsome. Shaft studied the impressively beautiful Chris Hension, with his perpetual half erection always looming in his pants, thick masculine dark brown nipples, devilish smile and darting eyes; he was certainly a square-jawed piece of eye candy. And then there was Alvarez, always with the thick-lipped handsome Lang nearby – moist lips, always slightly shiny, always recently licked, lips that Shaft just knew glided lightly and lovingly up and down, root to head, over the long, thick penis shaft of his muscle husband Alvarez during their after-hours Pose and Approve sessions. And the scary hairy Karim Abdul, glowering in the middle of the lineup, with the shorter beefslab hardass Schumacher right next to him – weren’t they each other’s nemesis? Maybe they got hard posing together? And that giant Gunst, he of the amazing nearly 28 inch biceps. Shaft hurried over to Moster, just stepping down into the sunken living room, extending a wet hand. “Sergeant Moster, we’re so glad to see you -- ” He was suddenly cut off. Suddenly, from that muscle dais above, came an outraged roar. “Are you who the fuck I think you are?!!!” It was Gunst. He was shouting now, pointing down at someone in the room, at one of the waiting shmoes. All stopped and turned, stunned into silence. On the sofa was sprawled a fat, unshaved, tall mass of slob schmoe, who looked up from his phone, startled and scared. “Yeah, YOU, You FUCKING ASSHOLE!” “Do I know you…?” the schmoe blubbered. “I know you! You fucking asshole! I know you! You preyed on my sister!” Gunst was roaring now. “Get that worthless worm over here!” Waring and Lang stepped down, as if on cue, striding manfully into the room, heading to the creamy white sofa, then grabbing and holding down the particularly fat and ugly Hollywood former studio head, now sprawling agog, to prevent him from bolting. “Never mind, I’ll fuck him up myself…. ” Striding forward, every muscle in his massive frame now quivering with rage, Gunst pushed past Waring and Lang and into the room. The man was an impressive, fearful sight, his veins throbbing, ripped muscle on a mission, his huge pecs roiling and bursting in his tight t-shirt, his piston-thick arms slabs of disciplined beef, his fists clenched and ready to do damage. Casey was stunned. His mouth open, agape. He’d never heard the normally gentle giant Gunst so angry before, never even envisioned it. And he seemed crazed, pointing down at the terrified schmoe, accusing, now standing wide-legged and in full aggressive mode. “You don’t know me!” he screamed. “I don’t know you, either! What is this??? Dr. Shaft??” Shaft came forward, frightened but trying to maintain control. “Corporal Gunst?...” he started. He suddenly felt Moster’s hand on his shoulders, stopping him, pulling him back. Shaft tripped and fell on the carpet. Moster helped him up, shot him a quick look and a little smile, and putting a finger to his lips, shook his head. He mouthed, “No no.” He smiled. Shaft froze and, regaining his balance, stepped back, and did as he was told. Gunst was now standing above the cowering, terrified schmoe, roaring, his legs spread wide, his thick fists plunged into his obliques, ripped intercostals bulging like bricks, htting a powerful front lat spread. He rotated on his heels to show his lats at different angles. His pecs soared to the ceiling, his nipples went taut and pointed downward to the floor, bulging in his t-shirt, the luscious brown areola outlined. “You wanna see muscles, you fucking asshole?? check out these muscles!!! FUCKING WORTHLESS WORM!!! I’M GONNA SHOW YOU WHAT THESE BIG MUSCLES CAN REALLY DO!!!” From the facing sofa by the picture window, the small pipsqueak pencil neck schmoe was seemingly ignoring it all. Transfixing, he was staring directly at Casey now, seemingly unaware of the threatening Gunst, who was apparently on the verge of beating the fat schmoe to death right across the room from him. Casey, ever sensitive, knew he was being stared at. He turned his head slightly and returned the pencilneck’s gaze. He smiled. The pencilneck smiled back, tentative, shy. Casey began to do a slow, subtle, bubbling pec dance in his t-shirt, his mammoth chest bouncing slightly, right to left, left to right, his nipples taut and pushing powerfully into the tight fabric. He smiled a little more broadly. “You like that?” he mouthed. The pencilneck stared and nodded slightly. He did like it. Gunst was now in full flex fury mode. He glided from his threatening front lat spread into an equally threatening front double biceps. POW! he shouted, Just Look at these fucking guns! BOOM! His monster biceps broiled with iron packed sinew, laced with mammoth, pulsing cephalic veins. BAM!!! he added, extending his meaty arms to their full length, working the fingers of his powerful fists before clenching them into furious fist-weapons. “These are muscles, asshole!” he shouted. “And they’re comin’ to get YOU!” And then he bent, slowly, inexorably, coming closer, this huge mass of muscle and rage, smashing his fist in his meaty palm, and grabbed the schmoe by the shirt front, pulling his terrified ugly face up to his spitting, furious mouth. “I’m gonna FUCK YOU UP. I’m gonna beat the shit out of you, and I’m not even gonna touch you with THESE fists. I’m JUST gonna do it with my pecs. And then with my dick. I’m gonna beat your face bloody with my pecs and my dick!” The schmoe was blubbering now. Casey regarded it all somewhat calmly. He’d seen such behavior before at the Home, of course, and the Twenty were always wild and crazy like this on the gym floor, particularly during White Cap workout nights. They often beat the shit out of each other, bounding back for more. Nothing new here. What’s more, he figured it was probably all an act. Gunst was probably being paid for this interesting little muscle play. It was all working, of course, because none of the other musclemen had moved, as if they knew what was coming. And if there had been any serious, real danger, Karim Abdul and Moster, whose combined strength couldn’t even be gauged, would have stepped in to pull Gunst back and subdue him. More to the point, now he realized he recognized the schmoe from online. Something about how he had abused women for 30 years or more, and was now out of the studio, nationally shamed. Some big fat slob who ruined women’s careers if they didn’t fuck him. But he was still super rich, and he’d profited off of his exploitation and cruelty. Now set adrift in the Hollywood community and unable to work ever again, he was still worth several hundred million, and was not feeling any pain. Until tonight, of course. Now he was gonna get what he deserved. Still, Casey was more interested in his potential new friend, who seemed sober, quiet, respectful, and agog at the size of his muscles. That was just the way Casey figured he’d like them. Quiet and worshipful. As he walked over to the distant sofa, his cock twitched heavily, rolled in his pants, and began to point and grow. His new little fan seemed to be the exception in the room. He sat alone on his sofa across the room, maybe 20 feet away from the group of fat schmoes on the long couch. He was just staring at Casey, longingly, neither talking nor texting. Standing before him now not six feet away, Casey smiled in a friendly way. The pipsqueak smiled back, staring at Casey’s physique and handsome face and his ever-growing crotch bulge, blooming in his tight slacks. Tentative, nervous, a little frightened, shaking. “Hi,” said Casey, friendly. He got closer and extended a huge paw. “I’m Casey.” “I know. I’m….I’m Mike.” Mike reached up to shake hands, frightened and brave, his soft little hand covered by Casey’s enormous mitt. He stared at the pumping forearms as Casey gently shook his hand. He was very careful not to crush the little guy’s fingers. The fat slob was screaming now. “Hey, I’m just here to see a little muscle! You want money? I got a lot of money! I'll give it to you. Leave me alone!! Don't hurt me!!!” Gunst laughed nastily. “You just wanted to see a little muscle??? How about FUCKING HUGE MUSCLE??” He started slapping the man lightly across the face, back and forth, little humiliating stinging slaps that popped and smacked in echoes bouncing across the vast living room. “Ouch. Ouch! Leave me alone….!” “You belong to ME, asshole.” Gunst scooped the fat man (who must have weighed 300 pounds or more) up from the deep, sheltering confines of the plush sofa cushions. Effortlessly swinging the screaming man wide above his head, the man’s legs and feet flying in a circle around the work, Gunst swept the slob high above his head and held him there. Carrying him from the room, he yelled back to Waring and Lang, “You boys can join me later when you’ve finished with this group. But for now - he’s mine!” He turned his head up to the impotently squirming producer and lowered him down to meet his face. He spat his words. “Come to think of it, I’m gonna start you out nice and easy. You like glutes? How about some world-class musclebutt? I sure hope so. Casue I’m gonna sit on your face for the next 45 minutes. You’ll get to see my muscleass up close and personal….” And then they were gone, down the corridor. Silence. The schmoes staring, transfixed. “What was all that about? Who is that guy?” Hension whispered loudly to Obatu. Obatu shrugged. “Some movie producer.” “So why did Gunst go off on him like that?” “Maybe he didn’t like his movies.” “Private client,” said Alvarez. “It’s a put-up job. Extra money.” “This guy is paying Gunst to park his muscle ass on him for 45 minutes?” “No.” Alvarez smiled and whispered back. “The dude’s wife. Extra credit for public humiliation.” “Are the bedrooms through here?” Gunst asked, in the distance, his voice now conversational. “Noooooo…!” screamed the fat man. Down the hall they could hear a door opened. “Would in here be good for you?” Gunst asked calmly. “It’s good for me.” The schmoe’s screams continued for a moment, even after the door was closed. And then, they stopped. Very suddenly. Replaced by another sound, that could only be described as “mmmmpppphhhllllfffffffff…!!!... ..uuummmmm…” Presumably Gunst had undone his belt, lowered his slacks, squatted down his naked perfect butt, and was now getting comfortable on the man’s face. “Let me know if you have trouble breathing,” they heard him say, as if he was asking to pass the salt. Mike had watched in silence, his face surprisingly unexpressive. Unfrightened by Gunst’s outrage. That was interesting. He was clearly more nervous about Casey’s unanticipated friendliness. Casey turned back to the roomful of rich Hollywood schmoes, now numbering eight. For schmoes was what they were, and now, Casey had a pretty good gut level understanding of what a schmoe actually was. A schmoe was a creepy, ugly, fat, rich guy who was clueless, mean, selfish, liked musclemen, and was willing to pay his pleasure, and assumed money was all he needed. That was a schmoe. Casey’s lip curled in contempt. And far from frightened or intimated by the display of alpha male dominance Gunst had just performed, effortlessly carrying a kicking and screaming man over his head and out of the room, the schmoes were now quietly giggling, texting, snorting coke and toking up. They seemed to have enjoyed what they just witnessed. Nasty fuckers, thought Casey. He turned back to little Mike. “You’re not like those other guys.” “No.” “Why are you here, then?” “…..well….it’s my house.” Holy Shit. The Jackpot. That was fast. “Really? This is your place?” Mike nodded. “Yes.” Casey went to the point. “You like big muscles?” Casey asked, excited now. No sense in wasting time with pleasantries, although truth to be told, Casey probably had never heard the word before. “Yes, I do.” “Okay, then, watch this. All for you.” Casey moved fast into a front lat spread, rotating from side to side. “See these fucking pecs? They’re huge. You like this?” Casey’s shirt stretched and seemingly groaned from the strain. “….Golly….” Mike was breathing heavily. “Will ya look at that…?” His hand involuntarily moved to his crotch. Casey winked at him, nodding and smiling, reeling off his obvious talents. “Obliques, intercostals, abs like bricks, pecs like cannonballs, all hard and solid. And that’s just for starters. Here’s a most muscular crab shot.” His shirt fabric began to tear as his muscles exploded with sinew, mass and popping veins. “How about big guns?” he asked, flexing his brutal biceps. “26 inches,” he whispered proudly. “These guns measure 26 inches. You wanna touch ‘em?” Mike nodded, dumbly, reached out with tentative fingers, as Casey bent down to offer a closer view of his huge guns. “Touch ‘em! Go ahead and feel ‘em. Stroke ‘em. Ever felt anything so hard?” Mike’s fingers lightly caressed Casey’s 26 inch right biceps. “Wow,” he breathed, and stared up into Casey’s eyes. “I got great glutes, too,” he said conspiratorially, bringing his face now close to Mike. “It’s the ass of death. You’ll see. You can see them later. Really awesome.” Hey, he thought. This guy was kinda good-looking. Maybe he only weighed about 135, but he was cute. And probably really rich. Casey got even closer, flexed that powerful biceps right under Mike’s nose. “See that vein? It’s like a snake, watch it now…go ahead, lick it. Yeah. That’s right. Lick…” “Casey,” warned Moster. “Not yet.” Casey turned back, straightened up. “Yes, sir,” Casey said. “Join us,” said Moster. Casey looked at Moster, nodded, “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” And then returned to look down at Mike for a second. “Just a moment. I’ll be right back. He wants us to flex for your buddies. Don’t be scared. It’s just an act.” Mike was nodding feverishly. Casey could see his fly was bulging, and the bulge was not bad. Not bad at all. Maybe he was hung a little? He hoped so. “Well, you shouldn’t be scared,” Casey added. “The guys may beat up those other assholes a little, but I’ll protect you. I’m strong. You won’t get too hurt. And I’ll flex for you, and you can suck my dick awhile, and play with my glutes, and I’ll suck your dick, too, and maybe I’ll even fuck you, if you can take it. You can fuck me! Your butthole big enough? We all good?” Mike nodded, breathless, staring. “Great!” Casey was excited. This was going to be fun. “I like being worshipped! It’ll be dope. Hang on. This’ll only take a second. You wait.” The words came in a rush. “I…can wait….sure.” “Awesome. I’ll be right back.” Casey bounded back and rejoined the team. He readied himself, changed his face, scowled, and looked mean. Moster hid his smile. He was mightily amused. He should have foreseen that Casey would somehow ferret out the one dude who was signing the checks. The other men of the Twenty were, at the end of the day, too narcissistic to note personalities, character, differences, subtleties. For them, it was only about dominating, posing, flexing, showing off muscle. And the schmoes? Like any muscle lovers who lived closeted, rich, narrow, spoiled lives, they were only in it for themselves. But Casey definitely had possibilities. Moster made a mental note. He must remember not to mention this to Dr. Zaftig. Then he spoke, and his voice brooked no dissent. “Gentlemen, you will now silence your devices. Per the agreement in our mutual contract, there are to be no pictures taken, no recorded video, no texting, no emails, Instagram, Facebook or tweets.” There was a pause. Mike pulled his phone from his pocket and switched it off, looked up at Casey, and smiled. The schmoes stared up at Moster, not moving. “I’m waiting.” Still nothing. “Boys?....” said Moster quietly. Together with Casey, the nine muscle giants took a step towards the big sofa, alert, ready hands at their sides. There was a tense pause. “I didn’t sign any agreement…” one of the schmoes started to protest.

Two "Tyler!", the assistant coach yelled as he got his sight back and looked at the now huge athlete atop his desk. "Mhm", Tyler grunted in response. The excruciating pain in his body begins to wear down very slowly. "My… muscles... so much… pain", he mumbled while he opened his eyes and stared up at his coach looming over him, "did it… work?". "It sure did, son", Mr. Blake replied "you're nearly as big as Tom but it's all muscle. Keep lying down. I'll give you something to relax your sore muscles." He grabbed two vials from the top drawer of his desk, unscrewed them and held them at Tyler's mouth. "Drink this" he said and poured the liquid into the open mouth. "Let that sink in. I'll get you some clothes". Tyler nodded and closed his eyes again. The pain seemed to get milder. "You stole my muscles" The high-pitched, feeble squeak made Tyler reopen his eyes. He turned his head to the left and saw the stick-like figure getting up from the floor. "Are you okay?", he asked in his deepened voice, feeling sorry for the guy the assistant coach tricked into losing his muscles. Chad summoned his remaining strength to stand up, his now baggy boxers falling down to his ankles in the process. "Okay?", he peeped angrily, "all my muscles are gone. You'll pay for this!". He weakly stepped toward the desk, abandoning his boxers on the floor. "Pay?", Tyler said laughingly and sat up atop the desk. His amazing eight-pack hardened in a display of striated muscles separated by deep grooves by the movement. He placed his paws on his hips, making his shoulders explode with more striations and veins beneath his paper-thin tanned skin. Even sitting down atop the desk, he was a full head taller than the drained gymnast. "Give my muscles back or you'll regret this", Chad spat while he stopped in front of the huge football player that dwarfed him completely. Tyler couldn't help but grin at the scene: an emaciated, childish looking boy that stands up to his own, muscle-packed body. The difference between them couldn't have been bigger: the gymnast just below 100 pounds without a single trace of visible muscle and himself, pushing 240 pounds of ripped muscle jutting from his frame. "I get you're not happy", he said. "Cut the crap", Chad interrupted the way bigger man, "Give my muscles back or else". He poked his bony finger into the protruding rack of muscle atop the footballer's chest, unable to dent the hard surface. "Easy there, little guy. Don't hurt yourself", Tyler stated and bounced his pecs. The meaty mounds undulated and striations exploded across the wide surface. At the same time the huge muscles flexed, the device left on the desk by the assistant coach beeped. A crackling sound hung in the air again and a tingle went through Chad's finger touching the hard pec. Chad pulled back his finger in surprise. The next moment a sparkle formed on the electrode atop Tyler's chest, shot through the air and hit the electrode on the flat chest of Chad. "What…", Chad let out while a warm feeling crossed his chest. "No", Tyler said as more sparks shot from his chest into the gymnast's electrode. Instinctively, his mind urged him to get away. Still in full control of his huge muscles, he placed his hands atop the desk to get up. His triceps exploded into thick, horseshoe-shaped slabs at the back of his meaty arms as he began to get up. Chad saw the huge football player move and knew he didn't stand a chance against the guy. Automatically, he took a step closer and his frail hands groped the armpits of the huge athlete. Tyler blinked at the reaction of the emaciated guy. He got ready to shove him aside. The second the frail hands made contact with his armpits an electric discharge came over his huge body. His vision went dark for a split second. "Ughn", Chad moaned. The second he made contact with the huge body, a huge spark shot into him. A now steady flow of big sparks shot from the electrode on the footballer's meaty chest into the one atop his own flat chest. Through his hands he felt the reserve of power left in Tyler's body waiting to be drained. "Oh yeah, give it back", he grunted while he felt his muscles inflating again. "No, no", Tyler pleaded and tried to get away. Somehow his body, still 130 pounds bigger than the gymnast, was frozen by the draining. "You don't deserve my muscle", Chad grunted as another jolt of growth went through him. "What is going on in here?" Assistant coach Mr. Blake returned to his office with the clothes for the improved Tyler and noticed the scene. He saw the runty boy standing in front of the elite athlete he'd created earlier, the boy's stick-like arms and hands holding the armpits of the huge guy and the sparks flying from the huge man into the frail boy. "Stop immediately", he yelled, tossed the clothes down and rushed over to his desk. He grabbed the device and looked at the screen. "Transfer engaged!", he read off the screen . His fingers frantically touched the screen to end the process. "Please wait", the device peeped in response. "Yeah, feels so good", Chad groaned as the warmth filled his entire body. He had taken back a good 25 of the 50 pounds he'd lost earlier. He tightened his grip some more in the armpits. The second he tightened his grip, the flow of sparks increased momentarily as if he pushed the energy from Tyler's muscles out. "Get away from him. I need him on the field", assistant coach Mr. Blake screamed at the growing gymnast. He tossed the device back on his chair and moved in to get the small guy away from his athlete. "Stop. Please Chad, stop", Tyler pleaded once more. He could feel his newly grown muscle lose their size with every spark that shot from his shrinking chest. Still, he's unable to move, his still big muscles refusing every command. His mind fighting against the theft to maintain his new size. Chad opened his eyes and stared directly at the assistant coach. "Back off you", he boomed angrily, "I'm taking back what's mine." Another wave of growth flowed over him, giving him back 40 of his 50 lost pounds. Mr. Blake froze in his tracks by the harsh command. He realized it actually made sense: it was an experimental device so the transfer wasn't stable and the muscle were simply returning to their owner. He stared back at the growing gymnast to notice that the guy is back to his old size. He blinked as he saw the transfer continuing: sparks still kept shooting from his football player into the other athlete. Chad looked down at his body and a smirk formed on his face. "Yeah! I'm getting bigger than I was", he groaned in pleasure, "Give me more!". He grabbed the armpits even tighter, his stronger fingers now slightly denting the softening muscle under his grip and the flow of sparks increasing again for a moment. Tyler stared in horror at the swelling gymnast in front of him. He saw his torso grow with every bread the guy took: his heaving chest swelled beyond its previous size as more mass gathered in the thickening pecs; his shoulders widened as his delts kept rounding; his arms got thicker as the energy pumped into the growing biceps and triceps; the defined stomach was turning into a nice six-pack that rippled and flexed on the rhythm of the gymnast's breathing; even the guy's legs were amassing size and definition. He felt the guy's fingers putting more pressure on his armpits. "Ah", he grunted as more power escaped his body. "Told ya I would make ya pay", Chad growled as more sparks shot into his body. He threw back his head in bliss as he felt his muscles harden and grow bigger and bigger. "Keep feeding my muscles!", he gritted between his teeth and hardened his hold some more, his fingers now digging into the softening flesh of the armpits. Assistant coach Mr. Blake stared in disbelief at the scene: the gymnast was now a good 20 pounds heavier than before he'd lost his muscles and matched Tyler's current weight pound for pound. Both of the athletes now looked like swimmers. He blinked a few times as he would have sworn that Chad wasn't only growing more muscular but also getting taller. Tyler looked down at his own body, inhaling sharply as he saw his diminished size: he was now a good 25 pounds lighter than before he'd drained Chad's muscles, looking like he did in his freshman year. He looked back at the swelling gymnast before him and took in the guy's new size: the guy's sweaty pecs now protruding several inches from his chest; his wide shoulders forming a strong line capped with nicely rounded delts and topped with slowly mounting traps; his six-pack hardening with every breath, rippling with grooves between the individual abs; his arms getting thicker as the bicep inflate upward and the triceps downward; the forearms leading to his armpits hardening with corded muscles. He was struck by the perfect symmetry of the ever growing muscles. He looked further up the nice body and stared into the gymnast's icy blue eyes to see the desire to grow bigger, the urge for more muscle. He felt his own mind weaken the resistance against the theft of his own muscles. Chad stared back into the football player's brown eyes. He noticed the change in the athlete's gaze: the panic of losing his muscles and the fight against the theft were mixing with amazement. "Fuck. More", he grunted as the steady flow of sparks kept shooting into him. Tyler blinked as he realized that the tables turned definitively: the swelling gymnast matched his weight pound for pound but immediately surpassed him. The difference was barely visible at first, but increased with every passing second. His eyes roamed across the growing muscles, shiny with sweat. He felt the thumbs of the paws holding him, digging into the once hard surface of his flattening pecs. The perfect symmetry of the gymnast, now looking more like a very well-trained fitness model, took his breath away for a split second. The split second that was enough to chase the last resistance from his mind and replace it with the awe of muscular perfection in the making. "Get… bigger", he said, "take more". A grin formed on Chad's face at the remark of the weakening footballer player in his grasp. The moment the athlete gave up his resistance, the flow of sparks thickened to twice its size. "FUark", Chad snarled as the increased flow shot into him. The warmth exploded exponentially across his swelling body. All of his muscles jolted up in size at once, making him jump over 200 pounds. Assistant coach Mr. Blake couldn't believe the sight: his star player, a hulking guy moments earlier now looked like a small gymnast while the former gymnast now surpassed the other guy's original size. Unlike Tyler earlier, Chad's body wasn't showing any signs of slowing down its growth, nor did Chad wince in pain like Tyler before. Tyler now looked with lust-filled eyes at the swelling guy in front of him. The guy now looked like an amateur bodybuilder, the hard muscles under his paper-thin skin radiating power and strength. He had never had any feelings for a guy before, but now Tyler was unable to tear his gaze away from the heavily muscled body that kept growing. "Look at you… so big… so beautiful", he mumbled, "Take my muscles". His dick started hardening inside his boxers. "YEAH", Chad barked while he tightened his grip under the armpits and pushed more sparks from the football player into his own body. The muscle beneath his fingers couldn't resist his power anymore and was easily dug in by his force. The athlete in his grasp now looked like an ordinary 120 pound guy while his own body grew towards pro-bodybuilder proportions. He lifted the guy from the desk and held him up in the air, marveling at how light the melting athlete felt. Tyler felt the superior man lift him and felt like a ragdoll in his grasp. His feet dangled in the air and he gazed at the veins snaking along the thick forearms that supported him easily. He felt his now too big boxers sink down, revealing his hard cock that pointed straight to the growing gymnast. He didn't care: lust to see the man's big body grow more perfect filled his mind. He saw a fourth row of abs appear to transform the six-pack into an intimidating eight-pack carved with deep grooves below the now proudly protruding masses of meat atop the guy's ever swelling chest; the wide, perfectly rounded delts capped his shoulders that lent him an awesome v-taper; the upper arms beefed up further and further as more mass hardened the biceps and triceps while veins fed the big muscles. "Wow", he muttered weakly while a jolt went through his 7 inch cock. "Lusting after my body?", Chad asked smugly as he saw the guy's rock-hard cock pointing at his hardening chest. "Feed me more", he added and pushed more sparks into his body. He felt his own cock slowly coming to life between his now heavily muscled quads. His body grew past the 220 pound mark, making him 100 pounds heavier than the guy in his grasp. He looked down at his now magnificent body, marveling at how his pecs protruded thickly from his chest and obscured the top of his fantastic eight-pack and grinning at the new size of his intimidating arms. "Look at me grow! Look at my muscles growing bigger than ever!", he boomed. Assistant coach Mr. Blake stared at the gymnast that now looked like a heavyweight bodybuilder and still his growth didn't show any signs of slowing down. The guy oozed power and masculinity as he effortlessly held the diminished football player up. His own dick hardened in his pants. He fished it out and began stroking it. Chad caught the movement and smirked. "Beat off at the sight of my huge muscles!", he bellowed at the assistant coach. His own cock was now at full mast, reaching its 5 inches. It throbbed and swelled a bit in length and girth. Tyler's cock throbbed in response but lost some of its size. He couldn't have cared less: the spectacle of the man growing into muscular perfection before him and the lust for his swelling muscles filled his mind completely. He looked again into the icy blue eyes and saw the absolute craving for size and the determination to grow huge. "Take it all", he mumbled, "grow huge, Chad". "Give it all", Chad retorted and dug his strong fingers into the soft, jelly-like muscles. "YEAh", he groaned as more sparks fed his new size. His shoulders hardened further, his delts turning into perfectly rounded cannonballs; his traps mounded higher, thickening his neck to bull-size; his arms muscled up, his thick biceps pushing up a network of veins and his triceps jutting out sharply; his forearms expanded as the corded muscles turned into steely cables; his pecs amassed an extra layer of muscle and formed armor-like plates atop his wide chest; his eight-pack rippled as the grooves deepened between the hard abs; his formerly strong yet lanky legs grew in accordance with his torso: his quads rivaled young trees in size and his calves turned into diamond-shaped hardness; his back was turning into a broad landscape were mounds of hard meat flowed into each other while his expanding lats highlighted his awesome v-taper further. Another jolt went through his cock, making it swell to 6 inches. "Our…cocks are… the same size", Tyler let out. "Not any more", Chad replied while a new throb sent his cock to 6'5 inches and diminished Tyler's to 5'5 inches. The guy in his arms began looking emaciated as his body sank below 100 pounds. His own majestic body grew past 235 pounds. "FUARk", he boomed while his cock grew past 7 inches and sent Tyler's down below 5 inches. He could feel the drain slowing down and saw the flow of sparks thinning. "Give it all!", he said and shook the frail body in his strong paws back and forth. "Ughn", Tyler peeped as he rocked back and forth violently. His fully erect cock throbbing in the air, sinking down below 4 inches in the process. Chad scanned the bony body in his grasp: every trace of muscle has been drained from it into him. "I'll take your tan too", he grunted and saw the nice tan vanish from the runt and the final sparks shooting into his chest turn his skin deeply tanned. "YEAH!!", he bellowed and his now 9 inch cock erupted in a geyser of thick, sticky cum that splattered hard atop the frail body in front of him. Tyler peeped as the hurricane of cum hit his 87 pound body. The force of the impact forced the air from his lungs and within seconds his entire torso was coated in the hot juices of the superior man. The sticky fluid slid along his flat stomach, down over his frail 3 inch cock and further down along his stick-like legs. The sight of the hulking man sent him over the edge and making a watery load of cum leak from his pencil-thin cock and mix with the thick juices dripping along his body. Assistant coach Mr. Blake was stroking his cock vigorously with his right hand and the heavyweight bodybuilder-like stud creaming the fallen football star sent him over the edge too: his cock spewed a load onto his desk. Three more smaller blasts followed the first. A beeping sound tore his attention to his left hand. "Transfer complete", the device let out and shut itself down.

One "Looking good, man. Someone's trained his ass off during summer". Tyler pulled the tight shirt over his head and turned around to see Tom the star quarterback strut into the locker room. The two of them had led the football team to victory last year and now, during their senior year, they were ready for a repeat. "I wish I had abs like yours", Tom said as came over to his buddy. Tyler grinned. Even though they were both straight and had been dating the hottest cheerleaders for months, they admired each other's well-trained bodies. Tyler was proud of his physique: at 6 feet and weighing 187 pounds of muscle, he was the number two on the team. His chiseled face and low body fat gave him the natural looks of a fitness model. He flexed his abs, making the rows of muscle harden some more. His tanned skin adding depth to the grooves of his six-pack. "Wow", Tom uttered playfully. "No match for my size, though", he added as he took off his own shirt and bounced his heavy pecs. He totally outsized his roommate: standing 6'5, he towered over the guy and outweighed him by a good 55 pounds. "243 pounds of beef since last week", he said and flexed his nearly 20 inch arms. "Big but not ripped like me", Tyler replied and pointed at his teammate's muscle gut. The strong, yet rounded abs were covered with some fat. "Difference between a man and a pretty boy", Tom stated, "The ladies like 'em big and hairy". He smiled down at the smaller guy as he played with the fur atop his meaty chest. "Let's go to the gym like coach told us", he added as he got into his workout gear and swaggered over to the gym. When the two stars of the football team entered the university's gym, a guy in his late twenties looked in their direction and came over. "You must be Tom and Tyler", he said, "I'm Mister Blake, the new assistant coach charged with the lifting program. Seems like you guys didn't waste summer on partying." Tom and Tyler grinned. "What do you want us to do? I'm eager to throw some weight around", Tom said. "How about some chest?", the assistant coach stated and followed his star athletes to the bench press. The personal workout routines worked wonders for the team that went on a victory scroll. During the eight match Tom got injured and would be out for two weeks, risking to lose the game against their big rivals. The day after Tom's injury, Tyler was asked to join the assistant coach in his office. "Seems like you'll be leading the team", Mr. Blake said as Tyler sat down before his desk, "Are you up for it?". "I guess so", Tyler replied, "It won't be easy to fill Tom's shoes. The guy's a beast on the field. I mean he's more than 50 pounds bigger than me." "What if I could make you as big?", the assistant coach asked matter-off-factly. "I'm not taking steroids", Tyler stated. "Come on, son. Like steroids could make you grow 50 pounds of muscle till our next game. I'm talking about this", Mr. Blake said and took a small phone from his desk. "Something a good friend of mine working for the army sent me. It can tap into the electric pulses of the muscles and transfer it into another person. Still very experimental." Tyler looked incredulously at the device. "Transfer muscle? Sounds pretty insane to me. Besides, who would agree to give up his muscle?". "Let me worry about that", the assistant coach answered, "So, ready to grow really big? Big like Tom and dominate on the field?". Tyler still doubted but his desire to grow big chased the caution from his mind. He nodded. A smile formed on Mr. Blake's face. He got up, walked to the door and let another guy enter his desk. He locked the door and returned to his chair. "Tyler, this is Chad one of the top gymnasts of Orchid University. He's agreed to join the muscle stimulation project. Good, guys take off your shirts and pants." Tyler stood up and noticed he totally outsized the gymnast. Being 6 feet himself, the 5'2 athlete came up to his chin; his 187 pound of ripped muscle eclipsed the guy's 148 pounds. He was surprised by the size of the guy's torso: the gymnast's shoulders rivaled his own in width and the guy's thick arms seemed just a tad bigger than his own 16,5 inchers. "Miring my torso", Chad asked with a smirk and casually flexed his right arm. "17 inches", he said, "biggest guns on the team". Tyler was taken aback by the guy's cockiness. Usually smaller guys, especially freshmen like Chad, were easily intimidated by his body. This obviously wasn't the case with the gymnast. Tyler looked at the guy's boyish face. "Right, guys. Let's get started", the assistant coach intervened. He placed an electrode on Tyler's chest and one on Chad's. "You might feel a mild tingling sensation", he added and activated the 'muscle-app' on the device. "Feels funny", Chad said, "Like a tickle in my muscles". "Yeah", Tyler replied. Suddenly a mild crackling sound was audible as if static electricity hung in the air. A small spark shot from Chad's chest, flew through the air and shot into the electrode on Tyler's chest who was standing in front of the coach's desk. "What's happening?", Chad yelled out as more sparks left his body. "Oh yeah", Tyler grunted as the sparks now shot like small lightning bolts into his chest. Warmth spread through his body and he felt his muscles suck in the energy. He leaned back, scattering the objects atop the desk as he laid down to let warmth and energy fill his body. "I'm getting smaller", Chad peeped in horror as he felt a strange weakness come over him. He looked down and saw his well-trained torso slowly melting away. He tried to get away, but the weakness in his limbs prevented him from moving. More sparks escaped his body as his muscles condensed into energy, flew through air and shot into the footballer. "Oh yeah", Tyler grunted again as another wave of energy hit him. He felt his muscle swell and harden under his skin, like a pump after a hard workout. Mr. Blake stared in awe at the growing athlete atop his desk. Veins appeared all over the footballer's heavily muscled body and transferred the energy directly into his hardening muscles. His skin stretched as it adapted to the increasing size of the growing muscles underneath. His athlete's body now was at least 25 pounds heavier than before, making him look like an amateur bodybuilder. Tyler had closed his eyes in pleasure, enjoying the feeling of his growing muscles stretching his skin. "Oh fuck, yeah", he groaned as the electric sparkles kept raining down in the electrode atop his swelling chest that grew higher with every passing second. Chad felt his body weaken with every spark that escaped him. He was now down below 120 pounds and getting scrawnier and scrawnier. His mind kept fighting against the transfer, his natural aggression trying to form a barrier against the theft. He felt nothing but hate as he stared at the growing man atop the desk. Mr. Blake couldn't take his eyes from the gradually enlarging athlete. The sparks now formed a small, nearly transparent cloud above the football player that shot lightning bolts of power into the electrode. "Ah", Tyler's moans got a faint painful dimension as the pleasant warmth in his body began turning into a burning sensation in all his muscles. By now, he had gained 40 pounds of muscle. His meaty shoulders stuck out from the sides of the desk, his wide back making him broader than the desk; his thick arms closing in on 20 inches while they hung relaxed at his sides; his pecs formed two meaty plates rising up atop his chest; his abs had grown into an eight-pack; his legs thickened to support his new size as they hung down from the desk, their bulk making his boxers slide upward. The pain in his body, a mild burning sensation as if he'd trained too long, intensified and got more painful as more energy kept shooting down into the electrode. A beeping sound tore the assistant coach's attention from his growing athlete to the device in his hand. "Subject reaching natural limits" he read from the screen. "AH", Tyler let out a louder, more painful grunt. The pain in his body was getting unbearable. His muscles began developing a red blush under his tight skin, crossed with stretch marks as it was pulled tightly around the hard meat underneath. Spasms shot through his mighty torso as energy kept flowing into him. The cloud hanging above his thick chest got darker with every jolt that flew into it from Chad's weakening body. The sparks still shot down into the electrode but the excess energy crackles around it as the footballer's body seems unable to absorb it all. "Euh… no… more… please", Tyler groans in pain as it feels like his entire body is cramping up. The assistant coach hears the pleads and tries to end the transfer. He pushes the app to deactivate the device. "ERROR", the screen announced and a blinding flash fills the room.

deleted

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

Re-editing.

Re-editing.

For your reading pleasure. Thanks for being an awesome space. “You can do this. You can do this. You can do this.” The thought runs through my head like a mantra as I climb the stairs. I find myself at the door to his loft before I realize I'm there. I clench my fingers into a fist in a final effort to steel myself and raise my hand to knock. The door rattles noisily as it slides open. His eyes widen in surprise at my hand in front of his face, still poised to rap on the door. “Whoa – that was quick. People don't usually make it up the four flights that fast.” I look at him and shrug, doing my best to act non-chalant. “What's wrong, out of breath?” He grins toothily at me and gestures to come in. “Not yet.” Well yes, but not from the stairs. Fucked if I was going to let on how he has me panting and terrified at the same time. Of course, he had answered the door in nothing but shorts. We were the same height at 5' 10”, probably even the same foot size, but everything else was different. He was clearly the bulkier one. His profile listed him at 175 but he looked a little bigger in person. He was carrying a little extra bulk from the winter but that did nothing to hide the thickly muscled core underneath. The dark hair dusted across his chest trailed down his abdomen thickening above those shorts that did everything to accentuate the reason we were here today. The fabric outlined the meaty shape of his dick so clearly, he had to be going commando. “This isn't going to be much fun if I'm the only one who's getting naked.” He slides the door shut behind me, audibly sliding the pin in to lock it. “I've got the heat cranked so we don't have to worry about any extra...shrinkage. Bathroom's to your left if you're shy to start.” I ditch my shoes and head left, closing the bathroom door most of the way behind me. I manage socks and pants first, only getting tangled in my own clothes once. I turn to face the mirror and start unbuttoning my shirt, getting halfway down before my hands start to tremble. Cursing inwardly I stare at my hands, willing them to stop while I slow my breathing to help focus. My head snaps up at the sound of wood creaking behind me. There he was, right arm raised and bent to brace himself in the doorway leading to his bedroom. I didn't even notice the other door in my distraction. He looks me over slowly, feet to head, finally making eye contact in the mirror and before approaching from behind. “Hey.” He turns me toward him and rests his forehead against mine. “Here..” He slowly grips my hands to steady them. Together, we finish undoing the buttons. He pulls the shirt off my arms, hanging it off a door handle. It was unexpectedly intimate and incredibly kind. “Do you forget how to undress yourself often?” His smile colour the words softer than they would have been. “Well, no, I just-” Fuck. The heat rising in my cheeks means I'm blushing, something I don't do often. I hate blushing. “I may be a little nervous. You?” “Terrified.” “But you're not even-” “Home turf advantage” I groan. So corny. “And we both know I'm going to win.” “Oh, yeah?” I step back from him then, raising my gaze defiantly. “You remember the rules, right?” He steps back and crosses his arms. I swear he's flexing to make sure I notice the taught balls of muscle that swell. “Oh I remember, all right. Looks like someone's been hitting the stair-master to draw out the inevitable as much as possible.” I preen at the comment. Once we decided to get together and compare in-person instead of online, I had upped my cardio and tightened my diet. I had meant to drop the weight for a while and this real life meeting gave me the extra inspiration to finally do it. I was a lean 152 pounds now, down from the 160 my profile listed. A simple run over my lower body with clippers meant things everything was trim and neat. My upper body was bare until a triangular stripe of dark blonde flaring down below the navel. I also have the sense to wear briefs that flatter my average endowment in the front and really show off the work I put into my ass. “ I just wanted to accentuate the difference as much as possible, you know?” I'm smiling now, finally finding the vibe that prompted us to agree to this in the first place. “It. Worked.” At that he drops his shorts and steps out from them, fondling his sack gently after he does. About four and a half inches flaccid, his ample cock is forced forward to drape over his thick, heavy sack. The balls are a quite a bit tighter against him than I'm used to seeing them on cam; maybe he was telling the truth about being nervous. I raise an eyebrow at him and hook my thumbs in the band of my briefs. Slowly drawing them down, I watch his eyes widen as the material cleared my soft cock. His lips part slightly and his breath hitches as I finish sliding them over my feet and stand up for him to appraise. I barely clear three inches soft. It looks bigger because I took the time to trim, but a quick glance down at himself re-affirms that, while I'm almost textbook average, he, quite clearly, is more. Hips forward, he takes an involuntary step toward me, ready to compare the two together. Blood is already starting to redirect itself toward his thickening member. I clear my throat and he steps back again, imploring me with his eyes. “The Rules, remember?” “But we could just-” he starts to protest. “Trust me?” He sighs and nods before turning around to lead me through his bedroom and back into the open space of the loft. The furniture is all moved to the sides and a large mat covers the empty floor. He has the shades drawn down so the neighbours won't be getting a free show. Every light is on, lending the space a garish arena-like feel. I make special note of the island counter that separates kitchen area from the rest of the space – it could be of special use later, depending on exactly how this night plays out. “Wow. Do I even want to know why you happen to have a wrestling mat this size? Where would you even keep this?” That gets a chuckle but he stops just past the bedroom door and gestures with his chin to the other side of the room. I pad past him to turn to face him, legs bent and ready to spring. “That's quite the bed you just led me by. Pretty big, even for you, isn't it.” I smirk to drive the barb home. “Custom-order.” His voice is a little rougher now. We're both almost ready for the chase. “Guess you need something custom to hold the gigantic fucking weight of your sack. I mean, really, are you even strong enough to lift that thing up when you have to take a piss? I think you might have to start doing some extra curls to handle it.” We're quickly heading full dark, no stars now; just our symbiotic kinks centred on his glorious endowment. He quickly rises to the bait. Literally. His cock rapidly approaches full mast, the skin stretching tight around the tip. It's so damn pretty. He glares and crouches down a bit to lunge at me. He gets a bit of a glazed look, clearly plotting what he's going to do if he fully wins. To win though, he has to catch and pin me first. His lip curl into a sneer and he bonafide growls at me,”I. Am going. To own. You.” “You bet your sweet fucking ass you are.” The words come out as a taunt, even though I'm already saluting his victory. It's on then. The temperature in the space rises noticeably as the chase begins. He isn't slow, but he doesn't stand a chance with all the cardio I've put in. Leg day is my favourite and, while I might not squat several hundred pounds, I have put in more than enough hours to add quite a bit of extra bounce to my step. I only have to outpace him for ten minutes for me to be the one to choose how I get to worship him tonight. I tease him through every sprint, every jump, every panting breath. He tries to banter back about my inadequacy but, really, we're here to 'talk' about him and we both know it. “Careful you don't throw out a hip with that thing!” “Awww, is your big thick dick slowing you down? Too much resistance keeping you from getting enough speed to catch me?” “Shut. Up. Pissant.” “Muffin.” Like that's going to happen. The rules specify he wants to know how big he is and for me to mock him about it. I'm not about to forfeit any time soon. The whole experience is like a football drill crossed with an intense zumba class all from somewhere in special-hell. We're both covered in a sheen of sweat and breathing hard from the constant exertion. He went flaccid right after the start – all the movement quickly solving any erection distraction problems that may have occurred. The flopping up, down, and side-to-side of his endowment could be comical if it wasn't so mesmerizing. We're closing on six minutes now – maybe I'm better at this than I thought? “Does any body else hear a helicopter? I swear I hear a helicopter....” Past eight minutes and approaching nine. The idea that I might call the shots is a little shocking. I had every expectation that I would lose. “What kind of host are you, leaving your mammoth cock out on the floor like that? Shouldn't that be draped on a couch before I trip on it or something?” And then 'or something' happens – kind of. I technically trip. There's a sensation of my foot connecting with something warm, soft, and heavy but when I look, there is nothing there. I tumble face-first to the mat, confused, and flip myself over onto my back. He's already there, looming over me with a face-splitting grin. He drops into full straddle and his splayed hand pushes hard on my chest, pinning me to the mat firmly. “Gotcha.” I squirm uselessly. “You have any other tricks to try or are you ready to call it?” I relax and then try a sudden lunge forward but he already anticipated that. He slams me back to the mat, this time pinning my shoulders down and keeping my legs from bracing against the floor for any leverage. I feel somewhat like a pretzel and seriously turned on. “You win.” He leaps to his feet instantly but with a hand extended to help me up as well. I gladly accept and the heady sensation of someone pulling me to my feet causes me to stumble against him. He catches me easily, holding my arms at my sides while keeping me flush against him. The heat of him is sublime, the aromas from our mutual exertion sending a lightning rod to my groin. We're the same height so it's awkward... for me. The weight of his larger equipment forces my struggling cock straight down. I try to wiggle out of his grip but he holds me still, mouth curled up in a slight smile. “Anything wrong?” “I can't, uh” “You can't what?” “I can't get it around....” “Oh? Does something have you pinned?” He's totally gloating. It makes me harder than I thought possible. “Hnnnhnn” “Maybe you need to do some curls.” “Dick curls? That's not a thing.” I was getting pretty desperate. “Bet you it is. What do you want to bet?” He sounds very confident, like he has a dick-curling-guideline page bookmarked on his laptop or something. “Or maybe we should make sure you stay the bigger man?” “I have no doubt about that. You ready for this?” “Fuck. Please?” I'm practically begging and he hears it. It's not like he's fully soft against me and he's starting to fill even more of the limited room down there. He finally lets me take the smallest step back, freeing my hard-on to spring up at it's full size, just brushing his skin. It's a pretty average five-and-a-half inches long and the same around. We both stare down as he expands freely between us now, his bigger rod gobbling up the new space. His bobbing cock knocks mine aside and under itself as he thickens and lengthens more, taking over the gap to accommodate its superiority. I can feel his slick tip straining against my skin - the sensation is sublime as his foreskin drags itself even wider around the head. “You might, mmmm, want to move back a bit. I'm not. Done. Yet.” He finally lets go of my arms and poses with them behind his head. His cock stretches inexorably toward me as it continues to increase in size. He has to be getting close to his full seven-and-a-half inches. He's wider than me as well and my smaller cock is totally eclipsed; I can only see it if I glance from the side. The moist tip makes contact with my pubic bone again and I can't help letting out a moan. I rock ever so slightly against it, sure that he's done but I'm wrong. It pulses back and widens just a bit more. I am absurdly close to cumming. “You were right about the Chase. I don't think I have ever been this hard. Your smart mouth might even make me harder than seven-and-a-half. What do think about that?” “Fuck. Me.” He smirks at that. Not like my response was unexpected. “If you're lucky. Guess I closed the gap...again. Fuck, just look at me.” And I do, of course. There is no denying my absolute worship as I take in the flexed frame of his arms, his heaving chest, the spectacular trail down his abs, and, finally, the monolithic main event pushing against me between his meaty quads. It's physically digging into my pelvis now, ever harder and precious like diamond. He flexes his hips just slightly against me and the unbelievable happens. I stumble back and fall on my ass. The view is godlike, looking up at him like this and I moan again. His eyes go glassy and wide with unbridled lust – he just knocked a person to the ground with the size and strength of his fucking manhood. His first volley catches us both by surprise. It launches over my head almost entirely, a little of the trailing end catches me on the cheek. My mouth reflexively opens wide in shock and anticipation. He grips his cock for the second volley – he has excellent aim and now I've presented him with with an obvious target. It splashes against my lips and into my open mouth. That's more than enough for me to release my own shot up at him. I spray against his legs a few times as he lets loose at me with the rest of what he's got. The third makes contact against my chin spilling upward into my mouth again. Number four and five paint my chest and torso. He pushes out a sixth load and soaks my balls and cock. Seven is finally a dribble but even that makes its way onto my left ankle and heel. “Wow.” He finally manages to pant out. “Yeah. Wow, alright.” I have to lick my lips and wipe my face clear before I'm able to reply. I slowly get to my feet and cup my softening dick in my hands. The smell of him is everywhere - I have never been so thoroughly and utterly marked. “Um, you need to get over here.” There's an edge of fear in his voice. “Hey, I'm right here.” I finish clearing what I can from my face as I come closer. “Good, 'cause you, uh, you need to see this....” He's still holding his hard cock firmly in one hand and it isn't softening. The head of it is pulsing, the skin drawn taught and engorged with blood. The pulsing isn't just that though. His dick swells more, inching it's way ever closer to me with each second. It broadens in his hand, forcing the fingers apart. He starts making a low keening sound in the back of his throat and his eyes begin to flutter like he's cumming again. I brace him by the shoulders as his cock spools out inhumanly between us – when is it going to stop? His body gives a final tremble and his eyes widen as he glances down. He now has more than twice the cock I do – it might be obscene if I wasn't so hard from it. He touches the tips of our cocks together and the size disparity is comically overwhelming. His face breaks out into the largest smile. “I don't know what you did, but thanks? Like the upgrade? Wanna touch it?” I barely get a finger on the fat, meaty shaft before I'm cumming again against his tip. It's more of a dribble this close to my last one but he takes the obvious appreciation in stride and pulls me for a hug. “I'll take that as a yes.” The hug is a little strange with his gigantic erection pressed up between us. It's only a momentary reprieve. We start to feel his dick pushing upward between us and rush to take a step apart. “Umm, you're not quite done yet?” And that's when I notice it. It isn't his cock getting bigger, it's him. His eyes have already risen so I'm looking just below them, then his nose comes into my line of sight, then my gaze falls to his mouth as he continues to grow, and then, at last the top of his chin fills my field of vision. I have to tilt my head back to see his eyes now. “Fuck. Yesssss.” He closes his eyes in bliss as his body starts to gain mass next. The winter bulk melts inward so his already significant muscle mass stands out sharper relief beneath a thinner layer of flesh. His traps rise up a bit and the delts round out significantly to cap his frame. His already ample chest broadens further and the serratus start to pop into view down the sides. The biceps swell into higher, broader peaks in balance to the horseshoe expansion of the triceps. His lats flare out deliciously down to the taper of his waist while his abdomen sculpts itself into a gorgeous six pack. His quads are even more corded now and the calves have a diamond pattern below the skin. The growth ebbs to a halt leaving him a comic-book super-porn version of the already attractive man he was. I reach out in wonder to turn him around but he tackles me to the floor without warning. He straddles me again, this time with his knees pinning down my shoulders. His new-and-improved mammoth tool finally softening directly in front of my face. “Kiss it.” Fuck did I want to. I close my eyes for what feels less than a second. Would that even be safe right now? What if he grew more, while on top of me? Would he just crush me into the floor? My panic must have been unmistakable because I hear his voice prompting me back to reality again, just like with the shirt before this began. “Hey, get out of your head. Open your eyes aaaaand, there you go. Not that tough, right? I don't think it'll bite. And really, you kissing my big dick is totally the kind of thing we've role-played online 500 times. Now there's just, more of it. So, here.” He leans down a bit to make it as easy as possible in my pinned state and my lips meet that gorgeous, swollen glans. The skin in scorching and salty. I tease the tip of it with my tongue milking out some remaining semen. He takes a sharp breath in and I feel his cock stretch into my mouth. He pulls back quickly and leans back on his haunches. “Easy there, I don't think we're ready for what might happen if you do that yet. You remember what I said earlier?” Huh?” I'm entranced by his heavy, pendulous endowment swaying with each movement. “Eyes up here.” He grips my jaw and moves my head so I look him in the face. “Who owns you?” “What?” This wasn't exactly my brightest moment. “I said, Who. Owns. You?” He's growling again. “You do. You won.” It was a theme we often used. My final submission to his superiority – thank fuck he wasn't an asshole. It seemed even more fitting now that he was, well, this new version of himself. “That's right, you're mine.” With that he leans back on his heels, grips my by the chest and stands up with me in his hands. “Hmm, that was easier than I thought.” “Easier than you....?” I limp over to the island to steady myself. “Did you even look at yourself to see what you look like?” “Not...really? It's not like there's a mirror in here or anything.” He's right of course, but shouldn't he have been able to see some of it? “Bathroom. Now.” I start toward the door without waiting to see if he follows. “Mmhmm?” “Stop weighing your junk from hand to hand like a slinky and come look at yourself.” “Yeah, but it's soooo heavy.” He shoots me the dopiest grin. “So's the rest of you.” “Is that a fat joke?” “Just get in here, you dork.” “Fine.” I hear his heavier footfalls approaching the door. He steps into the room and really looks at all of himself in the mirror. “Is that all me?” “Uh-huh.” “Holy fuck! Really?” “Well it sure as shit isn't me, so, yeah.” “That sass though. You sure that's such a great idea right now?” He flexes an arm into a curl in my direction, pitifully failing at a scowl. “Seriously? Get on your scale. We have to see this. Do you have a tape measure anywhere? Bedroom maybe?” He hustles to get on it, I have his full attention now with the numbers. “Right there, top drawer.” Of course he kept in his bathroom. I fish it out while he steps gingerly onto the scale. “I can't. Fuck. I'm...I'm 260 pounds....” “Mmmm. Sweet daddy fuckballs!” “Did you just say sweet daddy fuckballs?” “Shut. It. Stand straight against the wall.” He complies, silently for once. He's taller than I thought – this could be a bit of a challenge. “Need a stool?” He teases. “You'd like that, wouldn't you?” I look around the room for something to make a mark with. “...Maybe.... I mean, I'm already this big so what's a bit more?” Bullseye! Tweezers would do to scratch the paint the tiniest bit. “Okay step out from the wall.” He hovers over me as I stretch the tape from the floor to my mark. I suck in an audible gasp. “Well, what is it?” I turn to look at him, shock and awe apparent. “Six feet, four inches.” His giant dick is coming to life now. “Holy fuck! That's like six inches more I was!” Up and out his member comes. Fuck that thing gets huge. “And 260 lbs.” Full on cock surge from him now. “That's like half a foot taller than you. And 110 pounds heavier.” He eyes me up and down, calculating something while he gently strokes himself harder. I am positive it will be something devious. I also don't fail to notice the switch from inches to feet to describe how much bigger he is than me. “I'm measuring that next, aren't I.” “Mmmhmm” He smirks and keeps stroking. I hold my breath as I do it. I don't think I would be able to stop fondling it if I were breathing normally. It was hot, thick, heavy, the skin blissfully silky to touch. Pulling the tape against it causes a final surge to its magnificent size. The flesh is unyielding as I wrap the tape around his giant fucking hard-on. It takes conscious effort to let out the breath I forget I was holding. I look up at him in full, mindless reverence. “You're 11 inches long and 7.8 inches around. I can't...I can't even....” He leans forward and grips my ass with his larger hand. Lifting me up onto my tip-toes so he doesn't have to lean down as much, he places his lips next to my ear to whisper. “I don't know what happened tonight but, you know what?” His voice is lower, throaty, indescribably sexy. I quiver at the sensation of the sound and breath against my ear. “Um, yes...no...I don't know?” Fuck. Words were not going well again. He was holding me so tight to himself that I felt the corners of his mouth raise into a smile. “I. Want. More.” I was so fucked. Was beyond so fucked because I knew what was coming next. “You want to help me get more, right?”

Part 1: Part 2: Hey, I’m Cody Baldwin. My friends on the rugby team call me CB for short. Yea, it’s my initials, but it also stands for Cannon Ball. At 6’ 1” and a solid 190lbs, I’ve been known to take out the entire defensive line of opposing rugby teams. I’ve seen that nerd around campus. He always has his huge backpack full of textbooks. I was on the quad playing ultimate Frisbee with my buddies when I saw walking towards me. I knew if he didn’t move, I would have to slam right into him. He wasn’t veering from his path, even after I yelled out, “HEY NERD,” so I started to run faster, actually aiming for him. I was going to teach him a lesson. Boy, was I wrong. I slammed into him and it felt like I was running right into a brick wall. Or the side of an aircraft carrier. Literally, I bounced right off him, and he didn’t budge an inch. I was sprawled out on the grass, my head was spinning, and I was seeing stars. After a minute, I looked up, and he was standing over me. Towering over me. He had dropped his backpack and taken off his hoody. And holy shit, he was built like a fortress wall. Enormously wide shoulders, powerful chest, and softball sized biceps. He leaned down and with complete ease, hoisted me up to my feet. His massive hand steadied me on my shoulder, and he firmly held me in place for a few seconds. He said, “Just wait til your head clears a bit buddy.” I couldn’t break free of that grip if I wanted to. He stood at least 4 inches taller than me, and easily outweighed me by 40lbs. I had completely underestimated the nerd. He let me go, and as bent over to pick up my Frisbee, I walked over to pick up his backpack. I couldn’t budge it off the ground. He smiled, unzipped it for me, and let me peek in. He was carrying around 8 45lb plates from the gym. “Can you do math, bro?” he asked derisively. He easily hoisted it up onto his shoulders, as I stood in shock. “That’s 360lbs,” I said. “The equivalent of two of you, right?” he said, smiling. Without waiting for an answer, his massive arm pulled back and he hurled my Frisbee clear across the campus. “Go fetch,” he ordered me. “And bring the Frisbee back to my dorm room. Bowman Hall, room 810.” “The nerd dorm?” I asked, stupidly. He leaned in, his eyes narrowing, as he put his massive hand on my shoulder, and started to squeeze just a bit. The crushing grip made my knees buckle, and I could tell he was holding back. “That’s the last time you call me a nerd, UNDERSTAND?” I nodded in terrified agreement. I found the Frisbee almost a mile away, and trotted back to Jimmy’s dorm room. He answered the door in tight sweat pants and tank top that looked painted on his massive frame. “You’re in my chemistry class, right Cody? From here on, I’m going to do all your papers and work assignments. Now, don’t get the wrong idea – I’m WAY smarter than you. I can do that work in just a few minutes. And I’ll get you to memorize all the material so you’ll pass the exams.” “Thanks Jimmy, I don’t know what to say,” as my voice trailed off. “In exchange, I control your diet. You’ll be my science experiment. I’ll get more muscle on that frame of yours, and you won’t have to worry about academics. Deal?” Jimmy said, offering me his massive hand. “Deal!” I said, my eyes irresistibly drawn to the bulge in his sweat pants. “Is that my first meal?” I asked sheepishly. Jimmy laughed, “Maybe you aren’t such a dumb jock after all. Yeah, time to get on your knees and give me head.” I hesitated for a few seconds, and Jimmy just held up his massive flexed bicep. “You won’t get this big, Cody, but I guarantee you will bulk up. I won’t chase you if you run out of here, even though I’m much faster than you. But I think you are hungry for some muscle.” And before I knew it, I was on my knees with Jimmy’s fat 9-inch dick down my throat. The next few weeks, I spent all my free time with Jimmy in the nerd dorm. My GPA inched up to 3.85, technically making me the smartest guy on the rugby team. I didn’t really know all that much, it was just memorization drills. Oh, and Jimmy was right – I have bulked up. I’m up to 205lbs now, and I’m the most terrifying rugby player in the state. If only people knew it was because I was kneeling for a muscled nerd.

Here ir pt two! This is for you @Palver! As always if you have any idea for the story please leave ir in a comment. It makes my job easier and let me write this faster. Thank you! Pd: if someone can help me to calculate the weight of the characters i would be really grateful. I know that meny people like to see the weight but i dont know how much someone weights according to his muscle. Send me a private message _________________________________________ Five days had passed since John moved to his house, and Marcos wasn't happy about it. Every time he wanted to complain, to ask him to stop touching him or even to demand him to wear some clothes, he felt stopped by the intimidating presence of the beast. He only felt safe in his rugby club. Henry and Marcos had been punished to clean the field after they talked too much during exercise. Now that they had finished Marcos was taking a shower in the locker room. While the water run through his meaty pecs he started thinking. He was still kind of uncomfortable with John around but it was much better this days. He was kind of funny and cool, his dad on the other hand was acting a little bit weird. That was maybe cause because he caught them fucking… no he did not, he thought. John and dad would never fuck. Did they fuck? He wasn't sure, he wasn't sure about a lot of things these last days. His thoughts were interrupted by Henry entering the shower on his side. He was quite handsome Marcos thought. He was 6 feet tall and 170 lb. Henry had a dark red hair and bright blue eyes. His body was beautifully sculpted though not as big as Marcos’. -I am getting a little bit hard- Henry said while laughing -Do you smell that?- -smell what?- Marcos asked nervously -I don't know… like, like women- Henry started massaging his dick until it was hard. It was 6.5 inches long and quite thick. It wasn't huge but big. Henry got behind Marcos, until he could feel his breath behind his back. -you are getting bigger. Your pecs…- he put his hand on top of Marcos left pec while the other one stroked his own dick. Marcos closed his eyes and tried to move away but he felt it. The presence of John was around his body stopping him from moving. He felt the heat and force of the giant all around his body. He opened his eyes and stopped trying to move. -your abs- Henry continued down with his hand. His fingers traveled across Marcos abs admiring his physic. Henry moved to be in front of Macos and he knelt. His tongue touches his six pack and made Marcos get goosebumps. The water was falling on Henry’s head while his hands explored his friends body. -why… so hot…- he said stroking his own dick. Henry stood up now they were face to face. So close that Marcos could see his eyes perfectly. His friend hugged him tight, Marcos hugged back for some reason. While he was trying to process what was happening he felt how Henry's hand traveled through his back until it reached his ass. Marcos instinctively curved his back leaving his asshole out. A strong flash of energy entered his eyes as his friend finger slowly entered his asshole. A wave of pleasure filled his mind and he cummed on his friends abs. -Sto...stooo..p- he said while he experienced what had been his strongest orgasm. At the same time his friend that had been jacking off this whole time cummed too. Like of they just woke up from a dream they both look at each others eyes with Henry's finger still up in Macos ass. ------------------------------------------------------------- Both friends now cleaned and dressed up were sitting still at the bench of the locker room. Both looking straight to the front avoiding eye contact. The first one to break the silence was Henry. -I don't know what happened to me… i am sorry- he said close to crying - i have a girlfriend and i am happy with her. And i am happy with you as a friend. I promise i never thought about you in this way. Heck! I never thought of any men this way. Till now i thought that i was straight…- - and now?- Marcos turned around to look at his friend face. He seemed confused and anxious. - well now… now i am not sure- -did you like it?- -i cummed all over you, what do you think?- - yeah i know, but now that we calmed down. What do you feel?- - i feel… i feel that your ass looks hotter now! Omg whats wrong with me- -Nothing, nothing at all. When you, ehem well… when you entered my asshole with your finger i saw something- -what do you mean?- - my cousin moved to my house a couple of days ago. Since then everything has been weird. I have been “examining” my ass every day…- -like masturbating?- - no hahahahaha- they both laughed this time and it gave Marcos a final push to finish his story -like measuring it and stuff and i notice that is getting bigger. Not only that but i am also forgetting things. I have the impression that my cousin is doing something with me at night but i can't remember- - Like raping you?- Henry ask full of concern - no, no i don't think so. But is changing me, when you started touching me i tried to move but i felt him stopping me from doing anything- -but did you like it? DID I JUST RAPED YOU?- -Well i guess that's the weird part. I was uncomfortable the whole time. But the moment your finger entered my ass i felt something change…- They both sat quietly uncomfortable but slightly aroused. Henry moved his erection under his shorts to a more comfortable position. -i don't know what is happening but i know is caused by my giant roommate- ____________________________________ By the time Marcos left the locker room the sun had gone. It was a beautiful night and Marcos was walking in the middle of the street looking at the sky. A gentle and cold breeze refreshed the teenage boy’s mind. He wasn't in a hurry. He didn't remember almost anything that happened this last days and he was afraid of what could happen. Something told him that he had changed and now he wouldn't forget. Or that was he hoped. His feet moved almost independently as his mind wandered thinking. He still didn't feel attracted towards Henry but the thought of his ass being touched got him really aroused. He had reached his house. He put his right hand on top of the doorknob and the other touched his ass. He was prepared for whatever thing he would find inside. ____________________________________ He was inside of his house and nothing seemed out of place. He took a deep breath and felt the fresh air filling his lounges. There was something in it, something animal, like pheromones or something like that but more intense. His dick got hard immediately and he followed the smell ,like a wolf, to the living room. -Dad?- he asked disgusted - what are you doing. Martin was completely naked while cleaning the tv. Marcos noticed that he looked younger and thinner but what caught his attention was his huge bubble that moved graciously as he walked. He had gotten smaller too. Marcos’ dick was pressing really hard against his pants. - John told me to clean the house- - and why are you naked?!- - he told me to do it this way- Marcos barely heard what his father just said his ass was making it hard for him to concentrate. - why… why are you doing it? You could just say no! Where is him?- - He went outside, he said he needed to walk- Marcos got close to his father. Martin was facing his back towards his son as he picked up a consumed beer can. Marcos couldn't take it anymore more, he took out his throbbing dick and abruptly entered in his dad asshole. His dad let a little scream as he tried to move but he was much smaller than Marcos. His son put one hand in his wrist and with the other he grabbed his dad hair to accommodate his dad’s back. He slowly pull out while his dad panted. Then with the power of a bull he entered again. He felt how his muscular pelvis hitted his dad's gorgeous ass. His dick was pressed tightly by the walls of his asshole and he felt the warmth of his body. He started thrusting his cock faster and faster and his Martin’s complaints turned to moans. His ashole streatch to welcome the new intruder and his dick got hard only by the feeling of submission. His own muscular son was fucking him as a woman and he loved it. He could feel the hard hot cock moving inside of him. Marcos threw him to the wall and pressed the smaller guy with his entire body. The he grabbed hi hip and fucked him as fast as hi could. His dad was almost crying because both the pleasure and the pain. Marcoa felt like he was regaining his masculinity and started thrusting with more power making his body hit even harder his dad’s ass. He was ready, with a last swing he cummed inside of his dad’s asshole filling it with cum. He pull out and he let go his father who fell to the floor. He was exhausted. -that… that was amazing- he said between breaths. -clean it- Marcos said putting his cummed dick in front of his dad’s mouth. Martin cleaned his son cock with his tongue leaving it without any semen. - I won't eat today. I will be in my room- Marcos said as he went up the stairs-

Hello! I havent correct it yet so if you see any errors please comment where it is. English is not my first language so be patient. Sooooo if you liked the story tell me which part because i want to make a second part and your ideas might be useful. Thank you! _________________________________________ Marcos was just arriving to his house. Today’s workout session was the hardest he ever did and his legs were killing him. Since last year the coach had changed. He was much more strict and made them workout like professionals. Because of this Marcos has grown bigger and more muscular. Having just turn 17 he had a grow spurt and now he was the biggest guy at School. He was 6,2 feet tall and weigh 210 lb and was happy about it. He likes the way girls look at him now, especially his girlfriend Amanda that was always touching his body. All of this makes him feel pretty confident and among other men of his class he feels dominant. A black car in front of his house told him that his father was home. He walked inside of the house and closed the door with the lock. -Dad! I am here!- he shouted as he walked towards the living room. He was shocked when he saw a huge shirtless man doing push ups in the floor. -do...do you know where is my dad?- The gigant stood up and got uncomfortably close to Marcos. He was 8.2 feet tall and really muscular. His arms were like small cannons ready to fire up. His pecs were the size of a human head and were touching Marcos forehead. 8 meat bricks were covered in sweat and hair, while his legs seamed of the size of a small human being. Marcos couldn't see his face till he bend his neck to the fullest. A black beard covered his squared jaw and two bright green eyes were looking down at him. Marcos noticed that his beautiful mouth curved in a friendly smile. -Hello, i am John. Nice to meet you, yo must be - Marcos felt the vibration that the strangers deep and powerful voice made -your dad is upstairs in his room- -thank you- said Marcos looking at the floor. He walk quite fast, almost running and went upstairs. His heart was beating fast an he was sweating. In that moment he couldn't tell what was causing that reaction, but it was fear and submission. He wasn't gay, and he wasn't attracted to John in any way but he had just been in the same room as the person that must be the biggest and most muscular men in history. As he walked to his dad’s room he started to regain confidence. Now with a clear head he couldn't believe the way in which he reacted. Filled with anger he opened his dad’s door with a lot of force. -Who is down stairs?- he asked almost shouting -Is your cousin John. He is staying with us for a while- only covered by a towel Martín was , at the eyes of his own son, a runt. He was only a 5.2 skeleton covered with skin. He even seemed younger than his own son. There was nothing special in his looks and nothing interesting in his personality. Marcos thought of it for a while, his house was really small. A livingroom , a kitchen, two bathrooms and two bedrooms. Only two bedrooms! And a giant like that would need an entire house for his own. -Where is he going to sleep?- he asked impatient -Well… i showed him the house and he seemed interested with your room- -WHAT?!! I only have one bed! Will he sleep in the floor?- His dad took more time to answer with that question. He was afraid of how his muscular teenager would answer. -well… i thought you two could share a bed- The only thought of that situation got Marcos’ blood boiling. John was way too big to share a bed with, even when that bed is king size. -No, that is not going to happen- - well then you should talk that with him- Marcos was furious. As he went down the stairs he was thinking what he was going to say to his new cousin. But when he reached the living room he freezed in his place. John now had a huge t-shirt that was pressing hard against his body. Every movement of his arms made his biceps press against the fabric near to destruction. It was like his shirt was being tortured. ------------------------------------------------------------- At night they eat pizza, it went by peacefully as John talked about his home country in germany. Marcos was still thinking about what happened earlier, how he got to afraid to complain to John. He was also bored because even though John was right across the table his legs and enormous feet were reaching his side. Back to his room was were the problems started. -so… this is my side and that's yours- -yes- Marcos timidly answer - do you mind if i sleep naked? Marcos was shocked by that question. He wasn't going to sleep with a naked man. -I will take your silence as a yes- John said and before Marcos could say anything he was already naked. A 8 inch cock was hanging between the pillars that the gigan had for legs. It was as thick as Marcos’ arm and it looked like it could destroy a wall. -...omg- Marcos whispered. John got in the bed as if he hadn't heard anything and Marcos slowly followed. He could feel the heat that the enormous man emitted and they were shoulder to shoulder. Marcos faced his back towards the giant but he could feel that John was facing him. Just before he slept he felt John’s big hand grabbing his ass. ------------------------------------------------------------- Marcos thought that rugby practice was easier today. They trained the upper part of the legs and triceps. He talked with Henry at lunch. His friend was getting bigger but he wasn't near to Marcos. The house seemed empty so he went directly to his room. He opened the door and jumped to his bed. He was alone, and that made him happy. His hands felt a small depression in the mattress and a shiver ran through his back. The beast he had for roommate had caused the mattress to give in to his weight. He felt a weird sensation in his ass and he put his hand on it. Did John grabbed my ass yesterday?, He thought. He wasn't sure if it had been a dream or maybe an accident. He took out his phone and started chatting with his girlfriend. A loud moan came from his dad’s room. Marcos thought he was alone. Was his father with a girl? That wasn't possible, Marcos has never seen his dad with a girl. The wall started shaking and what he now recognized as his dad's moans were getting louder. He step up furiously and walked to his dad's door. He pushed and… John was naked standing in the middle of the bedroom naked , with his dad in the air grabbed by both of his hands and a 12 inch cock up in Martin’s ass. Thrust after thrust the humongous piece of meat stretched the little guys whole body. Like a machine each muscle of his sweaty body was pulsing with energy. It was godlike, he was lifting Martin’s entire body and moving it up and down his dick with no effort. Marcos looked at his dad face that was both filled with pleasure and pain. His limbs moved freely as a doll used by his owner. Marcos closed the door and ran to his room. What he had just seen?. Two hour had passed when Marcos decided to go out of his room. He had been thinking. Was his dad gay? And more importantly, is really John a human? When he watched them fuck he saw true perfection. It wasn't a gigant, he was a god. Every enormous muscle, that perfect dick, the way sweat covered his chiseled abs and his manly though handsome face showed domination and security. He was still straight and that didn't make him hot. But he had to admit that what he saw was the most perfect human being. He was down stairs and went to the kitchen. In there he saw his father naked cooking and John also naked grabbing his ass just behind him. Marcos wanted to shout but he couldn't. -Look who's up- John said as he approached Marcos till they were touching body. Marcos felt how the beast’s flaccid dick was pressing against his abs. He tried to move backwards but John stopped him by grabbing his ass. -Looks you have been training this- John said while he explored with his big hands Marcos’ ass. Grabbing, touching, Groping. He pressed Marcos tight to his body. -stop… please- - Okay! I am just being friendly hahahaha- Marcos sat in the table i little bit nauseous. He was going to sleep with that monster.