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Hey everyone! This is my first story, but I've been reading the work on this forum for years now. I was finally inspired to write my own story, so I hope you all like it! These are the first three parts in what may end up being a long story, so let me know if you have any suggestions for directions to take in the next parts. There isn't any growth in the first part, but stick with it, this story is going to get juicy... Don’t Stop PART 1: Andrew woke up from his nap feeling refreshed and ready for his date that night. It had been weeks before he had finally worked up the courage to ask Nicole out, but he knew he had to give it a try before it was too late. They were both in their final year at Cornell and were at the top of their class, Andrew majoring in biology with a focus on human physiology and Nicole majoring in toxicology. Andrew was practically sweating out of his skin earlier this morning during biology lab, but all of his nervous planning paid off. She had said yes, and not just any yes. She seemed genuinely happy and excited to go out with him. Her excitement was only matched by his relief. With all the thoughts of Nicole running through his head, Andrew understandably had a “little” problem in his boxers, so he decided to take care of it before picking Nicole up. He pulled off his shorts and threw them hastily on the floor letting his four inch dick stand up proudly from his lap. Andrew knew he was under the national average in penis size, but as a Chinese man he had grown up accustomed to people making fun of his size and ancestry. Personally, his size didn’t really bother him too much, but he had always wondered what it would be like to be bigger. Not only that, but Andrew was not the tallest or most fit person at Cornell. He was only 5’ 5” tall and had just the slightest hint of a tummy bulging out from under his T-shirt. He had very little facial hair, and almost no body hair to speak of either. Despite his mental acuity and high academic achievements, his physique had always held him back from ever asking a girl out. Except for until earlier this morning. Although he had never had sex with a girl before, he had no shortage of sexual fantasies to play in his head as he was jerking off. Kissing Nicole at her doorstep, coming up for “coffee”, undressing her, seeing a vagina and breasts in person for the first time, sucking on one of her nipples, penetrating her with his rock hard… and with that Andrew exploded all over his sheets. He couldn’t believe how intense his orgasm was and how much he had cum (much more than ever before). He could have lay there for hours basking in his post-orgasm bliss, but turning over he noticed that it was already almost 7pm. He quickly jumped in the shower, cleaned himself off, grabbed his car keys, and sprinted out the door. He made it to Nicole’s apartment just in time. She walked out of the house looking so good Andrew thought his eyes would literally pop out of their sockets. A backless dress, stilettos, and a nice long leg slit made Andrew wonder how long he would be able to hide his erection. “You look amazing,” he said to Nicole as she got in the passenger’s seat. “You’re not looking too bad yourself,” she replied with just the slightest hint of a wink. “So where are you taking me tonight?” “I thought we could go to a movie and then grad dinner if that’s ok with you,” Andrew stammered nervously. “I mean, we can definitely do something else if you don’t want that. Or whatever, I don’t really care,” Andrew finished with a whimper. Nicole of course loved this scared puppy demeanor, it was what had made her interested in Andrew for the past year and a half. “Movie and dinner sound great!” she said. And it was great. They went to an old classic movie theater and watched Casablanca which he thought was great but she thought was a little too cheesy compared to the modern style of movies. Then they went to a little French restaurant where all the cooking was done by two old French grandmothers who were experts at making boeuf bourguignon. They realized that they actually had a lot in common aside from a mutual physical attraction and ended up leaving the restaurant holding each other’s hands. Finally, they ended up in front of Nicole’s doorstep. Andrew was both terrified and extremely excited to get his first kiss. He leaned in ever so gently and kissed her on the cheek. After a brief silence, Nicole turned to him and said, “Why did you stop?” The two then kissed passionately, sparks flying and fireworks dancing behind their eyes. After what seemed like an eternity Nicole spoke up again, “It’s a bit chilly outside right now, do you want to come up for some coffee?” Andrew’s jack off session started playing through his head again and he found himself thickening to his full four inches. “Definitely. I don’t want this night to stop.” PART 2: Nicole and Andrew couldn’t keep their hands off of each other as they ran up the stairs to Nicole’s bedroom. They tried to be quiet so as not to wake up Nicole’s roommates, but their moans and groans could not be stifled. They made it to the top of the stairs, burst through her bedroom door, and collapsed on her bed. It took no time for Andrew to remove Nicole’s shirt and bra, but it did take him a while to stop marveling at the first pair of boobs he’d ever seen. Nicole meanwhile pulled down Andrew’s shorts and underwear allowing her to stare and Andrew’s erection, the first erection she had ever seen. The two virgins wasted little time trying to throw off those titles as Nicole smoothly guided Andrew’s throbbing cock to her wet pussy. Andrew’s fantasy was finally coming true. He could feel every glorious second of his first penetration, her velvet walls enveloping him in a feeling of utter pleasure. It took everything he had not to cum right there, but he managed to hold on and start thrusting. Andrew’s thrusts were understandably weak and inexperienced, but he soon got into the swing of things. He was able to notice what Nicole liked and what she didn’t like as much (although to be honest she was enjoying everything a lot) and adjust his thrusting style to make her moan more and more. After a minute or so Andrew couldn’t hold it in anymore. He could feel the best moment of his life building in his balls, churning up through his core, and eventually erupting out of him like a primal roar. He screamed as he emptied his balls into Nicole which in turn triggered her orgasm. The two then collapsed on top of each other, panting furiously, silly grins spread wide across their faces, virgins no more. Andrew was on fire. His boner showed no signs of going away, and Nicole was only too happy to help him out. In his post-orgasmic haze he hardly even noticed her putting on some chap stick before taking his whole cock in her mouth in one go. “Oh baby my dick is going crazy!” he screamed. Her response was limited because his dick was in her throat now, but she managed to look up at him and wink in her special subtle way. Andrew continued to moan as Nicole went to work on his rock hard shaft and as her throat massaged his sensitive head. He lasted for a surprisingly long time (but still only a few minutes) before he managed to choke out, “I’m cumming!” He poured his load down her throat, and she greedily drank it down with no problems. This orgasm was so much more intense for Andrew than the first one. It was so intense in fact that he passed out soon after the biggest ejaculation of his life. As he drifted off into sleep he remembered thinking about how rude it was that he didn’t go down on Nicole, but those thoughts were soon replaced with dreams and fantasies replaying the past half hour all night long. The last thought he had before succumbing to sleep’s welcoming embrace was, “I hope this perfect feeling never stops.” PART 3: Andrew woke up from his perfect dream to the perfect view. Nicole had woken up a few minutes before him and had started to massage his morning wood to get it ready for some morning sex. Andrew couldn’t believe that he had had sex last night. He woke up feeling very refreshed and yet super horny. He also felt like his dick was about to explode out of its skin. As soon as Nicole sat on top of him and guided his cock into her open hole he forgot all about how weird it was that his dick felt bigger and instead started to ride the towering waves of pleasure he was experiencing. He came with a roar just like the night before, but this time he felt like he shot by far the biggest load of his life into Nicole’s quivering vagina. Unlike the previous night, Andrew decided to reciprocate the oral sex Nicole had given him. This was the closest he had ever been to a vagina, and he relished every second of it. She tasted so sweet and smelled so good he wondered if she had added any perfumed product around her vagina to make it taste like that. He felt like he could keep eating her out for hours, and by the sounds of her intense moans and gasps it sounded like she could go forever. However, after about fifteen minutes, Nicole’s alarm went off signaling that it was time to get ready for class. She hopped in the shower leaving Andrew to bask in the sunlight streaming in from the window… Andrew woke up to a sudden pain in his balls. He looked over the blanket to find a larger tent than he used to pitch. He ripped the blankets off the bed and stared at his dick. “There’s no way it’s still just four inches long,” Andrew mused to himself. It looked to be at least an inch longer than it used to be and maybe a hair thicker, although he wasn’t sure about any of it. “Maybe a trick of the late morning light,” he thought, although he secretly hoped he actually had grown. As he got up from the bed he noticed he felt a little off balance and dizzy. “That’s strange,” he thought out loud, “I thought I was finished growing taller years ago.” That wasn’t the only thing that had changed though. He also noticed he no longer had a chubby stomach. In fact, he could almost see the faintest outlines of his abs. Lastly, he noticed dustings of hair on his legs and the barest hints of a mustache coming in. “Finally,” he said, “I haven’t been able to get any facial hair no matter how many growth products I’ve tried.” He chalked up his increased masculinity to the fact the he had just lost his virginity and that his testosterone must be pumping in overdrive. Somewhat concerned but happy with his new appearance, Andrew decided to go home, change, and head off to class. He had a hard time focusing on anything though and spent most of the time texting with Nicole. She was only too happy to text back: A: Last night was fun right?! N: LOL yeah totally. And this morning A: Best alarm clock ever hahaha. After waiting a few minutes: A: How would you feel about round three tonight after dinner? My place? N: Sounds delicious. I’ll be over as soon as I’m done in lab! A: Awesome, I’m thinking about cooking sausage for dinner ;P And so with that Andrew ran to the supermarket to grab the ingredients he needed to make the best sausage paella Nicole had ever tasted. He also grabbed a pack of regular condoms and some lube (just in case she was more adventurous than he had hoped for). Dinner was delicious, and afterward they decided to relax and watch a movie together. Except that by the end of the first thirty minutes both of them knew that the other didn’t really want to finish the movie. Nicole stood up and straddled Andrew catching him a bit off guard and firmly kissing him. After a few minutes of making out Andrew asked, “What flavor chap stick is that?” “Oh do you like it? Some of the grad students in my lab are focused on making entirely non-toxic cosmetics and they said I could take a tube to try!” Nicole replied before diving back in for another kiss. Truth be told, Andrew really did love the taste of the chap stick and wanted more of it. Kissing didn’t last long though before the couple decided to ramp things up. Andrew ripped off Nicole’s shirt, happily surprised she wasn’t wearing a bra. Nicole in turn completely undressed Andrew and admired his new masculine traits. “Wow, I thought you had a little bit of a tummy last night,” she teased. “And the leg hair, I’m a huuuge fan. Emphasis on the huge which by the way…” she said looking aright at his fully erect cock. She could tell it was bigger than last night, and she needed it inside of her right away. She started sucking him off and could tell he was enjoying it by how loud and frequent his groans were becoming. For someone who had never given a blowjob before last night she was very talented. The pleasure soon became too much for Andrew to bear, and he shot at least five times down her expectant throat. He was just getting started. Andrew quickly led her to his bedroom, and Nicole threw him on the bed. Her pussy was on fire and it was not going to be satisfied until she and Andrew shared an orgasm. He mounted her and rapidly thrust his newly grown cock deep into her pussy. He could feel he had grown a little bit, the way her vagina felt tighter and the way his head felt bigger and more sensitive. He began jackhammering quickly in and out of her, pulling out completely before each thrust to feel the maximum effect of continuous penetration. Nicole meanwhile was just mouthing “oh god yes, ohhh so good” after having screamed so much she literally became speechless. Andrew on the other hand felt like a real man for the first time in his life. He grunted powerfully and felt completely in control. She had already orgasmed and he was proud that he had held off for so long already. However, just as Nicole was nearing her second orgasm, Andrew felt his balls begin to tighten and felt the familiar rush of energy through his core. And then they came together and it was beautiful. Nicole’s sex was undulating so much Andrew almost fainted from the amount of stimulation his head was experiencing. It seemed to last forever (and they both wanted it to last forever too), but all good thing must end eventually. They finally stopped convulsing and collapsed into each other’s arms. Both were too exhausted for words, but they cuddled together until they peacefully fell asleep. Andrew woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and almost tripped over his own feet trying to get there. He finally made it to his mirror and turned on the bathroom light. “What the fuck is happening to me?!” he gasped. Staring back at him from the mirror was still Andrew, just an improved version. His mustache had thickened and was becoming darker and more noticeable. He even had several dark hairs on his chin and a few thin dark hairs beginning to sprout on his chest near his nipples. Looking down he noticed that his shirt was fitting him better so he removed it to find out what was hiding underneath. He gasped again after seeing his newly defined muscles. His pecs were still pretty small, but there was a noticeable separation between the two and they protruded a bit from his body when he stood up straight. His arms were looking pretty good too, and when he flexed them he could see small golf ball sized mounds where he knew his biceps and triceps were. He also definitely had abs now, although they were the kind of abs that skinny people have because they have no body fat. Looking past his abs he could see that his thighs and calves had also bulked up, but not to anything truly spectacular. It merely looked like he enjoyed running every now and then. But the thing that really shocked him and made him gasp for a third time was what he saw when he took off his underwear. His flaccid penis which had previously only measured two inches long was definitely bigger. He wanted to know exactly how much bigger, so he snuck back into his bedroom to grad a ruler from his desk and then returned to the bathroom to measure himself. Three inches soft. He was overjoyed, and his dick began to harden thinking about his new growth spurt. He began stroking himself to reach full erection so he could measure just big he had become. Once he was as hard as an iron rod he found that he was five and a half inches long. Now remember, Andrew was a biology major with a focus on human physiology, so he knew this shouldn’t be possible. However, he wasn’t thinking about how illogical this all was or how improbable these changes were. He wasn’t even thinking about why this was happening. All he could think about was that he didn’t want this growth to stop.

* Now Complete * This chapter will start with a brief excerpt from JP EPISODE 21: THE SMILE: the last part of that chapter that takes place in July 2005. Then I will extrapolate events from there for this chapter. As always, any parts of the JP story are reproduced with permission from the author, as I mentioned in Chapters 1 and 2. Also, as always: the illustrated version of the Chapter can be found here: http://seanspictures.webs.com/andrewmeetsjppart3.htm It took the rest of the morning, but JP and I soon returned to our normal routine. I went over to his house for our daily workout and then we went running in a nearby park. The whole world felt different now that I had come out to my mom. She may only have been one person, but somehow, the weight on my shoulders was far easier to carry. Not only that, but it gave me another person to talk to. Although it would be awkward at first, eventually I knew that she would always be there for me. ================================================================================ Once Matt and JP arrived at Burke Lake Park near JP's house, they found their new friends Andrew, Mike and Carrie waiting for them in the parking lot. "Nice truck Andrew," JP said, admiring the sleek lines of Andrew's blue Dodge Ram Quad Cab. "Where did you get it?" he asked, as he stepped forward to shake Andrew's hand. "Thanks man," Andrew said, shaking his hand. "My dad bought it for me on my 17th birthday almost a year ago. That was right around the time he got promoted to Executive Vice-President, or Chief Operating Officer, of Harrington's Sports Suppliers." "Wow Andrew, your dad is the second-in-command of a big sports company?" JP asked in astonishment. "Yeah man, he's rich," Andrew bragged, revealing a slight hint of snobbishness that his friends had never seen before. "But then, after looking at the Fairfax County website, I realized that being rich is normal around here." "Yeah, but did you see the car I drove here?" JP asked his big friend, pointing to the green GTO behind him. He narrowed his eyes at Andrew: disapproving of his snobby attitude and added, "I was given my brother's old car as a hand-me-down! My parents didn't buy a brand new truck for me like your dad did for you!" "Actually, my truck is four years old; my dad bought it used, and I pay him monthly for it," Andrew corrected him with a smug grin. When he saw JP's look of disapproval fade into an approving grin, he laughed and added, "Did you really think I was that snobby and elitist JP? I guess I fooled you after all, didn't I?" "Yeah you did man," JP admitted with a sheepish grin. "See, you're not the only genius around here," Andrew reminded him, crossing his huge muscular arms over his massive chest. "My parents raised me to work for everything I have, including this impressive body of mine." He noticed JP smirking and added, "Now, we came here to work out our bodies, not just our minds JP. Are you ready?" "Yeah Andrew; how good are you at running laps?" "I do alright," Andrew replied modestly, realizing that JP hadn't seen much of his running since he usually played Centre. "Why do you ask? I thought we came here to throw my football around." "We'll do that later, and we'll also throw around my Navy Frisbee after we go swimming in the lake," JP promised him. "But first, there are a few miles of trails that go around the lake and through the woods. Matt and I tried them a week ago and we got quite a good aerobic workout that day." "You got more than I did JP, since you kept running for two more hours after I ran out of breath," Matt reminded him with an irritated look. "Yeah, but now I've found someone who can keep up with me," JP said with a smirk, revealing a hint of his old cocky attitude. "Yeah, I should be able to keep up with you, thanks these long massive legs of mine," Andrew predicted with a cocky smirk. He turned around and asked, "Are you coming with us Mike and Carrie?" Carrie was about to answer, but her jaw dropped in astonishment as Andrew peeled off his tight t-shirt. JP and Matt stared at Andrew's massively muscled torso in awe and more than a little fear. Mike, on the other hand, being just as big and muscular as Andrew, merely grinned with pride at the awesome build his mentor possessed. "Yes, we're coming with you Andrew," Mike replied. He began to peel off his skintight t-shirt and added, "I think I'll follow your lead and take off my t-shirt as well." It took a lot of effort and care for Mike to peel off his t-shirt without ripping it, but he disguised the difficulty of the task by plastering a cocky smirk on his face. This was designed to make his friends think that he was taking his t-shirt off really slowly in order to show off his massive muscles. Once Mike got his t-shirt off, he said, "There, that feels better; I was getting too hot." He grinned at the double meaning in his words, as he noticed Carrie staring at him with lust in her eyes and closed his eyes in pleasure as a cool breeze blew against his skin. "Oh yeah, that feels so good," he moaned, rubbing his massive pecs and eight-pack abs. "Stop showing off Mike!" Andrew laughed, though he was disguising his disapproval of his best friend's cockiness. "You're not the only muscle god around here you know!" Mike opened his eyes, but the first thing he saw was Matt and JP staring at him with their mouths open. "What's the matter guys: scared of my guns?" he asked, with a cocky smirk. He flexed his massive 24 inch biceps and added, "You'd better be, because they certainly don't fire blanks!" Andrew laughed at his protege's silly joke, while JP and Matt's looks of fear turned slowly into small grins. "Don't be scared guys, even though this is the first time you've seen our massive muscles in full daylight," Andrew advised them. He stepped forward to lay a massive hand on JP's shoulder, who only kept himself from recoiling in fear to look brave for Matt's sake. He couldn't keep his eyes from widening at the cords of muscle and the massive pulsing veins in Andrew's huge forearm. "We're all friends here," Andrew assured him, seeing the fear in his new friend's eyes. "You have nothing to worry about JP." "I'm not worried Andrew," JP bluffed, though he knew that Andrew could see the fear in his eyes. Andrew nodded knowingly: realizing that JP needed to keep up a brave and fearless image for the benefit of his boyfriend Matt. "I'm actually glad that you're a lot bigger than me or even my brother Ryan. If he was here and saw how big you are, he'd never make a dumb comment to me again!" "Don't tell him you're friends with me JP; I want to surprise him with that fact when I go on a recruiting visit to Virginia Tech this fall," Andrew ordered him. "What makes you think you'll see my brother Ryan on your recruiting visit?" JP asked, as he took off his t-shirt. He grinned smugly at Matt's look of lust and Carrie's look of astonishment. "Take off your t-shirt Matt; show off the body that Chrissy thought was so hot yesterday." Matt complied with JP's order and was pleased when his boyfriend gave him a wink of approval. Mike stepped up to him and said, "You're pretty ripped man, even though you're only half my size. I bet you could have taken that arrogant jerk who was bugging Chrissy if JP hadn't been there." Matt grinned at Mike's attempt to cheer him up, knowing that he wasn't even in his boyfriend's league as far as size and strength. While Matt and Mike were chatting, Andrew was informing JP that his recruiting visits that summer would be hosted by Red-Shirt Freshman. "I'm sure Ryan will fill the same role this fall, which should give me the chance to let him know that I'm good friends with you," Andrew informed him. He let a smug grin appear on his face as he rubbed his massive bicep and added, "He won't be so eager to cause you any more trouble once he realizes that you have such a huge muscular friend." "I hope you're right Andrew," JP said, secretly worried that seeing how big and strong Andrew was would motivate Ryan to become bigger and stronger himself. "It would be great if you could be the catalyst to repair my relationship with my big brother." "He's not your big brother; I am JP," Andrew teased him with a big grin. "He's just your older brother, which gives you the youth advantage." JP grinned back at Andrew, grateful as always that his huge muscular friend always knew how to cheer him up. "I don't mean to interrupt your bromance Andrew," Carrie teased him. Andrew glared at her with a twinkle in his eye and Carrie smirked back at him. "But I think that unlike you guys, I'll leave my t-shirt on. I'll certainly enjoy the view of your muscular bodies though," she added, sneaking a lustful look at JP. "The only muscles you get to enjoy seeing are mine Carrie," Andrew warned her with an angry glare. He reached out with one massive hand and gently, but firmly, turned her head back towards him. "I hate repeating myself, but in case no one got the message last night: you're my girlfriend and no one else's! Have you got that Carrie?" He loosened his grip on her chin just enough for her to give him a frightened nod. Andrew released his grip on her and turned to glare at the other three guys. "Has everyone got that message now?" he growled with clenched fists. "Yes we have Andrew," Mike replied, once he realized that Matt and JP were to scared to speak. He only felt a little nervous around Andrew's fierce temper, since he knew that Andrew had never hurt him in anger. He had an idea to ease the sudden tension and asked, "Hey Andrew, what do you call chest muscles on a rough ocean?" "I'm not going to guess Mike, just tell us," Andrew sighed with a small grin, recognizing Mike's tactic that always soothed his bad temper. "Bouncing pecs," Mike replied with a big grin, as he bounced his own pecs to demonstrate. Everyone laughed and the last traces of anger faded from Andrew's face. "Good one Mike; my turn." Mike nodded at Andrew to go ahead as JP led the group to the start of the trail around the lake. "What do you call arms that are lethal weapons?" "I have no idea Andrew; why don't you tell us?" Mike goaded him. "Loaded guns," Andrew replied with a cocky smirk, flexing his massive biceps. Everyone laughed as JP led them in a brisk jog down the first leg of the trail. "Okay one more," Mike promised them. "What do you use to wash your clothes when there's no washing machine handy?" "The lake?" JP guessed, pointing to their left where they could see Burke Lake through the breaks in the trees. "Nope, you use washboard abs," Mike replied, massaging his ripped eight-pack. Everyone laughed once again, shaking their heads at the silly, but cocky, puns of Mike and Andrew. For their part, Andrew and Mike were glad that their jokes had put everyone at ease, especially since they had seen Andrew's bad temper up close a few minutes ago. Andrew and Mike let JP and Matt lead the way down the trail, while Carrie followed behind them. As they ran, Andrew tried to think of a way he could let JP and Matt know that he knew their secret. He realized that only Mike could keep up with him, but then he also realized that Mike and Matt had spent a lot of time together with Carrie the night before. So Andrew just had to come up with an excuse to get JP alone, and Matt's earlier comment about being left alone while JP ran for two more hours popped up in his head. So, once Matt gets tired, then Mike and Carrie will wait with him back near the cars for JP and myself, Andrew realized. Then I can see just how far JP can run, since he won't be holding himself back to keep Matt from feeling bad. "So, will we take the trail all the way around the lake JP?" Andrew asked. "If you can keep up with me Andrew," JP teased him. "I wouldn't worry about Andrew keeping up with you, but we won't be able to JP," Matt reminded him. "Well, I'm not slowing down for you Matt; I have to keep in shape for wrestling next year," JP reminded him with a frown. "If Matt and Carrie get tired, I'll go back with them to the main part of the park," Mike offered, not letting on that he, like Andrew, would be able to keep up with JP with no trouble. "Thanks man, I'd appreciate that," Andrew said gratefully, pleased that he would soon be able to speak to JP alone. "You keep them company like last night and if any jerks try to start anything with Carrie, all you'll have to do is stand up to scare them away." Mike grinned at that idea and Andrew added, "I'm trusting you to keep an eye on Carrie when I'm not around Mike, as long as you don't try anything with her!" "Don't worry Andrew, I have enough internal discipline to comply with your orders to leave her alone in a social sense," Mike assured his big friend. A scary look of anger appeared on his face as he added, "But if anyone tries anything with her, we'll see how they like some external discipline thanks to my huge muscles!" Hopefully they won't like it like Matt would, JP thought suddenly with a smirk on his face. As he jogged effortlessly through the woods with Andrew and Mike beside him, he thought about how lucky he was to be spending this summer with his friends. Too bad Ryan couldn't be here, he thought to himself with a pang of regret. But perhaps Andrew's idea about revealing his friendship with me if he sees Ryan this fall will help me get back my relationship with my true big brother. "Hey JP, who is that Nick guy you were talking about just before we met last night?" Andrew asked him suddenly. "He's Chrissy's brother; you know: the girl you were about to save from those college jerks until I stepped in," JP replied. "I don't know if I thanked you for that yet." "Yeah you did JP, right after you asked me if I wanted a piece of you," Andrew reminded him with a steely glare. "That wasn't very polite of you, considering I was ready to defend Chrissy from those two jerks before you got there." "Sorry about that Andrew; I guess my mind was just clouded by rage," JP apologized. "Yeah, deflected rage at your brother," Andrew snapped, still mad at JP's rudeness when they'd first met. "If you ever feel you want to take me on, I'm right here!" "No thanks Andrew; at least not for real," JP assured him. "Your neck's so thick I don't think I could get my arm around it! And even if I could, it looks so hard and muscular I'd have no luck trying to choke you out!" "Keep that in mind Big Guy, just in case you think you're all that and then some," Andrew reminded him with a cocky smirk. "Shut up Andrew!"" JP laughed, throwing a punch at his big friend. Andrew still had his face turned towards him and JP's fist accidentally made contact with Andrew's jaw with a loud smack. "OWWW!" JP yelled, shaking out his sore hand. "I think I hurt myself!" "I didn't feel a thing," Andrew bragged. "Was that your best shot?" he asked, as they stopped at one of the path junctions. "No man," JP replied, massaging his sore hand. "But this is!" He suddenly lunged at Andrew, trying to pull his head down to get him in a choke hold. It seemed to be working at first, but then Andrew grabbed JP by the legs and hoisted him over his shoulders, breaking JP's grip on his neck in the process. Then Andrew grinned and extended his arms, holding JP up above his head with no effort. "Hold on tight JP; up and down you go!" Andrew laughed, as he began effortlessly shoulder-pressing JP. "Let me know when you've had enough!" After a couple of minutes, JP said, "Okay, that's enough Andrew. Put me down please." "Sure man, since you asked me nicely," Andrew said agreeably. He let JP down to his shoulders and then lowered him gently down to the ground. "There you go Big Guy: I put you down. Are you happy now?" "Yeah I am Andrew; thanks," JP said gratefully, feeling embarrassed that Andrew had so thoroughly dominated him. "Hey JP, how much can you bench?" Andrew asked him. "350," JP immediately replied, though it didn't seem as impressive as it had earlier in the week. "Good, then you should be able to bench-press me," Andrew realized. "I only weigh 305 so it should be easy for you." JP chuckled at Andrew's nonchalant way of saying that he 'only' weighed 305 pounds. "How do you do that Andrew?" JP asked in wonder. "Do what JP?" Andrew asked, as they jogged down a side path to look for a patch of grass to perform the human bench-press. "How do you make me feel better with just a few words?" JP asked him seriously. "Ryan would have tossed me to the ground and then kicked me in the gut for good measure if he had me above his shoulders!" "I've had lots of practice JP, mentoring little guys like you," Andrew replied, missing JP's look of anger at being called little. "As for your brother, are you sure he'd fight dirty like that?" "You don't know him like I do Andrew; in fact, you've never even met him!" JP snapped. "So believe me when I tell you: if I ever get him in a chokehold, I won't let up until I choke him out!" "I believe you JP," Andrew said seriously, as they entered a small grassy clearing in the woods. As their friends followed them onto the grass, Andrew added, "Get the digital camera ready Mike: I think we're about to witness history!" "Are you sure about this Andrew; won't you find it embarrassing being bench-pressed by someone who you outweigh by over 100 pounds of solid muscle?" JP asked him seriously. "I'm trying to make you feel better by showing you how strong you really are, and how you have nothing to fear from me," Andrew assured him. He motioned JP to lie down and added, "As you don't tag me in the balls by accident, everything will be fine." Carrie burst out laughing and Andrew shot a quick glare at her to keep her quiet, so that JP wouldn't figure out that they knew about him and Matt. JP lay down on the grass and extended his arms. Andrew carefully positioned himself lengthwise so JP's hands were on his chest and thighs. "Okay JP: let's go," Andrew said. "How many do you think you can do?" "I'll go for five reps," JP replied, slowly lowering Andrew down to his chest. He raised his arms with some effort, slowly lifting Andrew up until his arms locked at full extension. "So far so good Andrew: let's go for two!" JP yelled in excitement. He bench-pressed Andrew four more times before he had to signal Andrew to stand up. "Whew! That was a great chest workout Andrew!" JP panted, accepting Andrew's outstretched hand which pulled him to his feet effortlessly. "I knew you could do it JP," Andrew congratulated him, slapping him gently on the shoulder. "Good job Big Guy." "Thanks Andrew," JP said, smiling gratefully up at his mentor. "Can we start running again?" "After you shoulder-press me JP, just to be sure that you can handle a big guy like me," Andrew replied. "You do know how to pick someone up in a Fireman's Carry, don't you?" "Yeah, my dad taught me," JP replied, screwing up his face in determination. He was nervous about shoulder-pressing over 300 pounds, but then he remembered that he had just bench-pressed that same amount: five times! And I have my whole body to help me this time, so it should be easy! he suddenly realized. "Bring it on Andrew: I'm ready!" "That's it Big Guy," Andrew said, stepping closer and bending down so that JP could grab his legs and free arm. "Let's see what you've got! Go for ten reps!" JP grabbed Andrew around the legs and slowly straightened up, getting Andrew squarely across his shoulders. Then he adjusted his grip and began shoulder-pressing Andrew up and down. He grinned as he performed the first five reps easily, noticing Mike and Matt taking his picture. The next five reps were more difficult, but JP just gritted his teeth in determination and forced himself through them. Then he carefully let Andrew back down to the ground again; panting and massaging his sore chest and shoulders. "Great job JP," Andrew congratulated him, shaking his hand instead of slapping his sore shoulders. "I knew you could do it!" JP grinned as he tried to catch his breath. Andrew motioned the others back to the trail and stepped closer to JP until he was looming over him. He bent down so that only JP could hear him and whispered, "Now you know that you can take on Ryan with no problem, so don't worry about him anymore JP." "Thanks Andrew, I owe you Big Guy," JP said gratefully, now that he had his breath back. As they jogged back onto the path, he added, "You're a really great mentor." "I've had lots of practice JP and I'd be glad to pass on some tips so that you'll be ready to mentor Nick in about six weeks," Andrew offered. "That would be great Andrew, because Nick won't be the only wrestling hopeful I'll be mentoring at wrestling camp next month," JP said gratefully. "Well, I do know how to mentor two guys at once: I did it with my teammates Ralph and Connor two years ago," Andrew said modestly. He smiled as he remembered developing his two proteges into star football players by Grade 11. "Since they will be the starting quarterback and wide receiver respectively this season, it seems I did alright training them for high school football. We won the District Championship last season and this season we're going to win the Provincial Title!" "Wow Andrew, that's really impressive," JP congratulated his huge friend. "What about Mike here? Did you train him as well?" "Yeah man," Andrew replied with a smug grin. "Tell him how small you were when I first started training you almost seven years ago Mike." "5 foot even and 80 pounds," Mike replied sheepishly, feeling embarrassed that he had ever been that small. "You were about the same size as Nick is now," JP realized, glad that Chrissy had told him her brother's stats. "And look at you now: 305 pounds of solid muscle!" "And I stand 6 foot 6, so I loom over you just like Andrew does," Mike chuckled. He lifted JP up by his waist, even as they were still jogging down the path. "I'm the big man in this group, and don't you forget it!" JP's eyes narrowed in anger and he was about to punch Mike in the face when Andrew said, "Put him down Mike; I let him shoulder-press me to make him feel better and you're ruining it by lifting him up like a rag doll!" Mike stopped jogging, set JP down and went to ruffle his hair, but JP knocked his arm away swiftly. "Don't you even think of trying to touch me without my permission man, or I'll rip your arm off!" he growled in fury. "Whoa JP, calm down!" Andrew urged him, clamping a massive hand on JP's sore shoulder to hold him back as he lunged at Mike. JP winced and Andrew switched his iron grip to his arm instead. "Sorry about that man, but don't start anything with Mike: he's just as strong as I am and he could wipe the floor with you!" JP glared at Andrew over his shoulder, realizing that all of Andrew's efforts to make him feel better had just been ruined. "I think it's time our two group separated now," Matt suddenly suggested. "Why don't I take Carrie and Mike back to the cars while you and JP run some more until he calms down Andrew." "Good idea Matt; see you soon I hope," Andrew said, smiling at him. Matt grinned back and led Mike and Carrie back down the trail, but not before Mike gave JP one last smirk over his shoulder. Andrew frowned and shook his head until Mike's smirk vanished and then turned around to see JP glaring at him with clenched fists. "Go ahead JP, punch me in the face again," Andrew sighed. "I deserve it for being too late to stop Mike from lifting you up." JP hesitated suddenly; no longer wanting to punch Andrew now that he had his permission and slightly afraid of making his huge friend angry. "No it's okay Andrew," JP assured him, letting out a huge sigh and un-clenching his fists. "It's kind of my fault too, not just Mike's. To me, he was acting just like Ryan and I projected my anger at Ryan onto him." "Yeah you did JP and it would not have been amusing if you had tried to rip his arm off," Andrew warned him. "Even if you got a grip on his arm, he would have just lifted you off the ground effortlessly and given you an F-Five or something." "Just like Brock Lesnar would," JP realized with sudden understanding. "You never told me that you were a wrestling fan Andrew." "You never asked, but I know some wrestling moves too," Andrew said soberly. He looked at his watch and added, "But we've gotten way off topic and while we're alone now, it didn't happen the way quite the way I wanted it to." "Why did you want to be alone with me Andrew?" JP asked, feeling slightly nervous now that he was suddenly alone in the woods with such a huge muscular guy. "Not for anything sinister JP, so don't worry," Andrew assured him with a gentle smile. JP let out a sigh of relief and the fear slowly left his face. "You don't have to act so tough all the time JP; I know you're scared of how huge and strong I am," Andrew said, letting the smile fade from his face. "Yes I am Andrew; you told me yesterday that you could bench 800 pounds!" JP shouted in astonishment. "Is that a one rep max or a working weight?" "It was a one rep max and that's the literal truth because I haven't been able to do it again," Andrew replied. As they began jogging down the path again, he added, "My working weight is about 700 pounds for five reps." "That's over twice your weight Andrew and four times mine!" JP shouted in astonishment. "That's why your arms are so big and muscular!" "Yeah I was really happy the day my pythons got bigger than the Hulkster's," Andrew laughed. He flexed a massive bicep and kissed it softly before saying, "These puppies are sick but they don't need a vet!" "But anyone who gets in their way is going to need a hospital!" JP predicted, laughing at the cocky smirk on Andrew's face. "Thanks JP, I wasn't sure how to finish that bicep pun," Andrew said gratefully. "No problem Big Guy," JP said, patting Andrew on the shoulder. "That's 'Huge Guy' to you, Little Man," Andrew growled in mock fury. When he saw JP's eyes narrow in anger, he laughed and assured him, "I was just kidding man: you've got to learn how to take a joke!" "I know that Andrew, but I was just reminded of Ryan once again," JP sighed in frustration. "You're obsessed with your brother JP, but there's someone else you should be thinking about instead of him," Andrew advised him, recognizing his opening. When JP looked at him questioningly, Andrew added, "I'm talking about Matt; it's obvious that you love him man." "Yeah, like a big brother, which Ryan should have been," JP stated, hoping that Andrew hadn't seen Matt staring at him longingly during the fireworks the night before. "He's really filled a void in my life." "Just like Carrie did for me when we fell in love," Andrew said, finally deciding to state the obvious. JP's jaw dropped and a look of panic suddenly appeared in his eyes. "Don't worry man, I'm not grossed out or anything; don't forget: my country legalized same-sex marriage two years ago," Andrew assured him. "It's not that Andrew, but thanks for not being weirded-out," JP said gratefully. "It's just that Matt came out to his mom this morning about him and me dating and though she had already figured it out, it was still really uncomfortable when Matt told her. She's the only one who knows; I haven't even come out to my parents yet." "And I can't imagine that you'll ever come out to Ryan," Andrew realized, unable to even imagine how violent Ryan's reaction would be if he found out that his little brother was gay. "My lips are sealed man; I won't tell anyone, because Carrie already figured it out." "Do you think now that Matt's come out to his mom, he's going to tell Mike?" JP asked with a worried look on his face. "I don't think so and Carrie won't either, since she waited until she was alone with me to tell me that she knew about you and Matt," Andrew assured him. "But you might want to take Matt aside later and let him know that Carrie and I know about you two," he added. "It's only fair to him." "That's a good idea Andrew; thanks for thinking of that," JP said gratefully. As they got close to the parking lot with their cars in it, he reached up to Andrew's massive shoulder and squeezed it gently. "You're a really great guy Andrew and I'm glad that you've agreed to be my Honorary Big Brother." "I'll always be here for you JP and even for your protégé Nick, once I get to meet him of course," Andrew promised him. "Once I get to meet him in mid-August, I'll introduce you to him when we meet again," JP promised him. As they jogged within view of their friends, he asked Andrew, "Have we talked enough for one afternoon Big Guy? Are you ready for some football and Frisbee now?" "Yeah man; I have my Miami football in my backpack and I think I see Matt holding your Navy Frisbee," Andrew replied. "But before we begin, I think you and Mike should apologize to each other, so that there won't be any more trouble between you two." "Good idea man," JP said, switching back into the cocky jock he pretended to be when he was in a crowd. He stepped right up to Mike, no longer intimidated by his huge size, and held out his hand. "I'm sorry I got so mad at you earlier Mike: I was just projecting angry thoughts about my brother Ryan onto you." "Apology accepted JP," Mike assured him, gripping JP's hand gently in his huge meaty paw. "I owe you an apology as well, for acting just like Ryan probably does." "He hasn't put his hands on me for years, but he does act superior to me, just like you did earlier," JP realized. "But I accept your apology Mike and I can tell that you're not embarrassed to apologize to someone you outweigh by over 100 pounds of solid muscle!" "130 pounds to be exact, but what's a few dozen pounds between friends?" Mike asked him with a cocky smirk. "Funny man!" JP laughed, taking his Navy Frisbee out of his bag and throwing it at Mike's head. His eyes widened as Mike caught it quickly, with just one hand, and then fired it quickly back at JP. JP had to do a cartwheel to catch it, but the force of the throw knocked him off his feet. Mike started laughing but then his eyes widened as JP quickly rolled through the fall and back to his feet. "Most impressive Big Guy," Mike commended him. "I can see why you're such a threat on the wrestling mat." "Yeah man," JP said with a cocky smirk. "You may have caught me off guard before, but just try to lift me off the ground again! Next time I'll be ready for you!" "I'm sure you will JP," Mike assured him with an encouraging grin. "I can see why you're a District Finalist and next season you'll win Districts and then the State Championship in high school wrestling!" JP grinned with gratitude as he threw the Navy Frisbee back to Mike and their friends smiled in relief: pleased that JP's obsession with his brother Ryan was slowly fading into the background, at least for the time being. * THIS CHAPTER IS NOW CONCLUDED * Hope you enjoyed, I mean LIKED, it. LOL (Seriously though, thank you for the three likes so far). Coming soon: - Andrew and his friends meet JP's parents and Matt's mom for supper. - Their parents discuss what kind of influence Andrew and his friends will be on their sons.

This was spawned by something that I have just written. Back in 2012 I wrote a version of "Around the World in Eighty Days" where I was able to take part in the story. When it came to rescuing Aouda from the worshippers of Kali I blindly agree to let Passepartout hypnotise me into becoming a Victorian Hero. He does so again, in my version of "Journey to the Centre of the Earth", where I clearly make an impression on Axel Lidenbrock (Otto's nephew) so that at the end of the story he stands up to his uncle and announces that he's going to marry his ward. In the third in the series based on "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea" I find that Axel has written a pulp fiction magazine all about the Victorian Hero and this story is meant to be how that magazine's first edition would have looked like. Chapter One "Please, hurry my man, I fear that this storm is getting worse!" As the coachman cracked the whip carrying the carriage of the Lady Southam, the storm that seemed to have been following them all the way from Coventry increased in intensity. For Lady Southam, it was the worse possible time to travel. She was heavily pregnant with Lord Southam's first child, a possible heir to the title, and although her doctor had permitted her travelling to their home in the heart of the Warwickshire countryside, the storm that was battering them seemed to appear out of nowhere. Suddenly, without any warning, a streak of green filled the sky and a rock, the size of a melon, crashed into the road in front of them exploding and scaring the horses so much that it took every ounce of strength by the coachman and his skills to prevent the carriage from toppling over. Jumping down, he rushed to his passenger and said "Are you all right, my lady!". Lady Southam nodded and his concerned alleviated, the coachman investigated the now smoking hole in the road. As he peered into the hole, the rock at the bottom of it was still glowing green and gingerly fishing it out with a handkerchief he tossed it from hand to hand until it was cool enough to handle. Presenting it to Her Ladyship, he resumed his place and avoiding the hole in the road made top speed to Southam Hall. Lord Southam was overjoyed to hear of his wife's safe arrival and to thank the coachman for his efforts, he presented him with a golden sovereign (more than the coachman would earn in a year). The coachman bowed and as he returned to his coach, he looked at the sovereign in delight but as he put it in his pocket and chuckled to himself he felt different. He felt stronger, stronger than the time when he wrestled Big Brute, the county's biggest all in fighting champion. As he cracked the whip and headed back to Leamington, his mind started to fill with wonders beyond his wildest imagination. He was inventing things that would revolutionise the world, he would become an engineer and bring his family out of the poverty they had been stuck in for centuries. As he roared with delight, his jacket started to bulge, he never thought for a moment that he would not be the only superman born that day.

This story came about from an idea I had a month ago, after re-reading my favourite story on this forum, which was archived from the old forum. The conversation I had with the author, where he gave me permission to use parts of his story in mine, can be found here: https://muscle-growth.org/index.php?app=members&module=messaging&section=view&do=showConversation&topicID=23174&st=0#msg108559 I separated my parts of the story from the author's parts with a line of equal signs: ================== ANDREW'S RECRUITING SUMMER CHAPTER 1: ANDREW MAKES A NEW FRIEND IN WASHINGTON, D.C. Andrew, Carrie and Mike, after spending Canada Day 2005 in Orillia with their parents, headed down to Washington, DC to spend Independence Day at the National Mall. They took Highway 11 south from Orillia to Barrie, where they took Highway 400 down to Toronto. Then they took the 427 to the QEW and headed around the western edge of Lake Ontario to Fort Erie. There, they crossed the border into Buffalo, New York and took US Highway 219 south to Dubois, Pennsylvania. They then turned east onto Interstate 80 and took it to US Hwy 15. They took that highway south to Harrisburg, the State Capitol of Pennsylvania, at the junction of Interstates 81 and 83. They spent the night at a hotel in that city. On July 3rd, Andrew and his friends took a scenic route into Washington DC, taking I-81 down to Hagerstown, Maryland, where they stopped at Borders Bookstore. Then they took I-81 southwest from Hagerstown Maryland into West Virginia, where they stopped at the State Welcome Center and had lunch at the BBQ that was going on. After lunch, they took I-81 further south into Virginia, and turned east onto US Hwy 50 just south of Winchester. They took that highway right into Fairfax, where they stopped at the Fairfax Towne Center and had supper at Five Guys Burgers and Fries. Then they proceeded to their hotel: the Comfort Inn Pentagon City in Arlington, Virginia. Once they had checked in, Andrew, Mike and Carrie jogged to the National Mall in Washington DC, to plot out their route for the morning of July 4th. Late the next morning, on Independence Day, Andrew, Carrie and Mike woke up in their hotel rooms, ready for their 90 minute walk to the National Mall. "I'm glad we scouted out the route last night while jogging," Mike said to Andrew, as they had a late breakfast after showering and getting dressed. "Yeah man," Andrew agreed. "It only took us about half an hour to jog there, but today we'll walk, since there will be so many people heading there." "Good thing we're leaving your truck at the hotel," Carrie said. "The traffic in the National Mall today (July 4th) would be at a standstill for hours. Not to mention that we would never be able to find a parking space." "That's why I picked this hotel Carrie," Andrew reminded her with a smug grin. "It's within walking distance of the National Mall." "Well that was fine for last night Andrew, but maybe we should take the train today," Carrie suggested. "Good idea Carrie," Andrew agreed. "I scouted out a few Metro Stations during our run last night and I believe the Pentagon City Station should serve our needs nicely." http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/d/dc/DC_Metro_Map_2013.svg/2000px-DC_Metro_Map_2013.svg.png "You're right Andrew," Mike agreed, looking at the Metro Map and the street map side by side. "We can walk northeast on Army-Navy Drive until we get to the Pentagon Row Shopping Center and the Metro Station is right there." https://www.google.ca/maps/place/Comfort+Inn+Pentagon+City/@38.8576678,-77.0593496,14z/data=!4m2!3m1!1s0x89b7b14a8fdfabd5:0x30a73c112191b664 So after breakfast the three teens began walking towards the National Mall, making sure to take a picture of the Air Force Memorial along the way. ==================================================================================================================================================== “Will we have to switch to the yellow line at the Pentagon station to get to L’Enfant Plaza?” I asked as we pulled into the parking garage of the Franconia-Springfield Metro Station. “I don’t think so,” JP answered from the driver’s seat, turning toward Chrissy who was sitting next to him. “Chrissy, didn’t they change the lines around to direct crowds better?” She didn’t answer, staring at JP’s body, totally enraptured by his newest brawn. “Chrissy?” “Huh, what?” she said, suddenly coming out of the daze. “Oh, yeah, you’re right.” He smiled warmly, causing her face to turn a crimson red. It was the Fourth of July and we were headed into DC to see the fireworks on the National Mall. Chrissy had nearly wet her pants at the sight of JP when we arrived to pick her up. At 174 pounds – probably 175 by now – of pure muscle, he was starting to look like a god. His light blue tank-top beautifully accentuated his chiseled shoulders and arms, the color brought out the bright blue in his eyes. He looked…well, perfect. We walked across the bridge into the station, bought our tickets and hopped aboard the train. Immediately, JP began attracting stares from other passengers, their eyes filled with awe. They couldn’t quite believe that a kid his age could be so phenomenally built. They marveled at how his strong, wide neck supported his flawless face, how the straps of the tank-top draped over his gracefully curved traps, how his thick shoulders and arms bulged with muscle upon muscle and were covered with writhing veins, how his lats flared out making the difference between his broad shoulders and tiny waist that much more impressive. And his butt…man, JP’s ass was beyond gorgeous, its perfect bubble shape provocatively filling the seat of his shorts. I, myself, couldn’t keep from watching my boyfriend’s muscular arms jump and flex efficiently while holding onto the pole of the Metro car, his shoulders and lats shifting silently underneath his thin skin as we hurtled smoothly through the suburbs. ===================================================================================================================================================== Within half an hour, Andrew, Carrie and Mike had arrived at the Pentagon City Metro Station. They bought their tickets and stepped aboard the train, which would take them to the L’Enfant Plaza Station just south of the National Mall. ===================================================================================================================================================== "Oh my god," JP said softly, so that only I could hear him. "What is it?" I asked him, following his startled gaze over to the open train doors. My eyes widened as the two biggest guys I had ever seen in my life stepped onto the train. "Those guys are so big they make your brother look like a midget," I whispered in fear. JP glared at me, which reminded me that he was still smaller than his brother. "Sorry JP, I didn't mean it like it sounded." "That's okay Matt," JP assured me, the anger fading from his eyes. A look of fear, which I had rarely seen before, showed up in his eyes. "I never thought I would be scared of any guy now that I'm such a good wrestler, but even I wouldn't be able to take on those muscular brutes," he whispered so that Chrissy couldn't hear. The slightly bigger guy, who had red hair and must have been six and a half feet tall, seemed to hear JP and looked towards him. The huge guy smiled and nodded at JP and after a few seconds of hesitation JP nodded back bravely. "Good job JP," I whispered. "I would've been too scared to make eye contact with such a big guy." JP smiled and I was relieved to see that the fear in his eyes had been replaced with his usual confidence. ===================================================================================================================================================== "Good job Andrew," Carrie commended him. "You scared that guy in the light blue tank top at first, but once you nodded at him, it seemed to put him at ease." "That was my intent Carrie," Andrew informed her. "I know a fellow athlete when I see one and even though he's a lot smaller than I am, I think I want to get to know him better. He looks familiar; once I remember where I've seen him before, I'll introduce myself." "I'm sure you'll get the chance once we're at the National Mall Andrew," Carrie assured him. "I think that everyone on this train is going to get off at the L’Enfant Plaza Station." ====================================================================================================================================================== The three of us heedlessly joked around the whole time and before we knew it, we were coming up the escalator to ground level. As soon as we had picked our spot smack dab in the middle of the National Mall – between the Hirshhorn Museum and the National Archives – JP opened up his backpack and pulled out his beloved Navy Frisbee. “We should get a little game in before it gets too crowded,” he suggested, beginning to pull off his tank-top. Chrissy let out an audible gasp as she saw his bare torso. My heart did a flip, like it always did when he would strip off his shirt. “God, you’re getting to be such a hunk,” she gushed, eyeing his massive chest, “you’re gonna be turning straight guys gay soon.” I burst out laughing, practically choking on my own spit. Chrissy quickly looked over at me. “What?” I couldn’t answer her, I was in such hysterics. JP smiled enchantedly and peered over at me. A chill went down my back. “You should see Matt’s body now, Chrissy,” he commented. “He’s getting bigger, too. Take off your shirt, Matt!” Chrissy looked in my direction with aroused eyes. I bit my lip and acquiesced to my boyfriend’s bidding – how could I not? I not-so-expertly wrestled my T-shirt over my head and threw it on top of JP’s backpack. “Wow!” Chrissy exclaimed. “You look amazing!” She sighed, passing her eyes between JP and me. I could tell that she was in heaven, being sandwiched between the two of us. “I can’t believe I’m hanging out with the two most gorgeous guys in the world,” she said, coming toward me and gently laying her hands on my abs. She raised her head and gazed into my eyes. “Matt,” Chrissy whispered, “I never realized until now how hot you are.” Her hands slid up to my chest, brushing against my nipples. Was she coming on to me? “I’ve been working out a bit,” I admitted, shrugging. Although I was still nothing compared to JP’s body, I had managed some modest gains myself. At 155 pounds – a full 10 pounds heavier than I was during crew season – I was in the best shape of my life. My body fat had dropped to just below 10%, so I knew that all of that new weight was muscle. My chest was developing pecs, my arms were gradually growing thicker and my six-pack – my most prized possession – was getting well-defined. “You gonna play Frisbee with us, Chrissy, or are you just gonna stare at Matt?” JP taunted, smiling brightly. Chrissy blushed and took off her own T-shirt, revealing a white tube-top underneath that clung tightly to her firm breasts. The girl was incredibly hot herself and I know that if I had been straight, I would’ve been completely boned right at that moment. She had an incredibly fit body – curves in all the right places – so you could imagine the looks we got from people, girls and guys. Of course, one look at JP and none of the other guys dared approach Chrissy, assuming that he was her boyfriend and that they would have to go through him first. Little did they know how lucky they might have been if they had tried. ====================================================================================================================================================== Once Andrew and his friends arrived in the middle of the National Mall, between the Hirshhorn Museum and the National Archives, Andrew opened up his backpack and took out his Miami Hurricanes football. "Are you ready for some football Mike?" he asked his teammate. "Yeah Andrew; I'm always ready," Mike assured him. "But do you think it would be a good idea to get a few pictures of the US Capitol Building and the White House before it gets dark in a couple of hours?" "Let's throw the football around for a while first," Andrew decided. "Then we can see those two buildings and get back to our spot on the lawn here by dusk." So for the next hour, Andrew and Mike threw the Miami football back and forth, making sure to take off their t-shirts to show off their massive muscles. As crowds of people began to fill the National Mall in preparation for the fireworks that evening, Andrew and Mike began to draw stares of awe and fear from the people around them. Andrew also noticed the brown haired guy from the train staring at him with a mixture of awe and envy. Andrew grinned at the guy, who bravely nodded back, before he had to dive to catch the Navy Frisbee his smaller friend threw him. ====================================================================================================================================================== For the next couple of hours, we tossed the Frisbee around in fun – no one bothered keeping score. Chrissy and I both admired JP’s athleticism, despite his dense musculature. No matter how far or in what direction I threw the Frisbee, he never failed to catch it, often making spectacular dives to do so. He was just so fast and agile. He was so strong and beautiful. He was a superjock. ===================================================================================================================================================== An hour after they had started throwing the football around, Andrew said to Mike, "I think we've thrown the football around long enough. It's time to go get our pictures of the Capitol Building and the White House before it gets dark. Then we'll get back to our spot here by sunset, about half an hour before the fireworks start." "How will we find our spot once this area is completely filled with people Andrew?" Carrie asked, as Mike put the football in the bag. "We'll look for the guy on our left who's been throwing the Navy Frisbee around with his friend; he's impossible to miss," Andrew informed her. "Especially since he's had his tank-top off for the past hour," Carrie reminded him with a sexy grin. "Careful Carrie; you only have one boyfriend and that's me!" Andrew shouted, flexing his massive biceps. "Whatever you say Andrew," Carrie chuckled as Mike stood up wearing Andrew's backpack. "It looks like we're ready to go." "Yes we are Carrie," Andrew said, looking over to his left and smirking. Carrie followed his gaze and saw the well-muscled guy holding the Navy Frisbee staring at Andrew. Then the guy turned away, embarrassed to be caught staring, and threw the frisbee to his friend. "Has that guy been staring at us for the past hour Andrew?" "Yeah, ever since Mike and I took our shirts off Carrie," Andrew replied, as they started walking towards the Capitol Building. "You've enjoyed shocking him with your huge muscles over the past hour, haven't you Andrew?" Carrie suddenly realized. "Yeah I have Carrie," Andrew replied. "I have been impressed, however, with how quickly he's regained his composure and bravely nodded back at me every time I've nodded at him. Hopefully, by the time we get back to our spot, I'll have remembered where I've seen his picture. Then I can introduce myself to him." "I'm going to take a picture looking back towards our spot on the lawn so that we can find our way back," Mike said. "Good idea Mike," Andrew agreed, as they crossed the street. The three friends turned around to look back towards the Washington Monument. "Make sure you get the guy from the train in the center of the picture. That way, we'll be sure to find our spot when we get back." Mike took the picture and then they continued on their way towards the Capitol Building. Andrew and his two friends continued walking closer to the Capitol Building, and then Andrew suddenly noticed a group of US Army guys up ahead in black t-shirts standing near their trucks. "I'm going to ask them if we can get a picture with them," Andrew decided, quickly putting his t-shirt back on. "I'll signal you two to join me if they say yes." Andrew bravely walked up to the Army guys, all of whom looked glad that they were on the other side of the fence from such a huge muscular guy. It's the same reaction I get from guys at the Reserves, Andrew said to himself with a silent sigh. I really wish people would stop being afraid of how big and strong I am, but I guess that's impossible! The Army guys were glad to have their picture taken with Andrew and his friends, especially after Andrew showed them his Military ID. They even pointed Andrew and his two friends in the direction of the Capitol Reflecting Pool, where other Army guys would be preparing mini-artillery guns for firing later in the evening. Andrew and his friends continued walking and soon saw a good view of the Capitol Building above the treetops: the "CNN view" as some called it. "Good job Mike; you're getting lots of good pictures of our first trip to Washington DC," Andrew commended his big friend. "Thanks Andrew, I get the feeling that we'll always remember this day," Mike said. "Yes we will Mike: because I just remembered where I've seen that guy with the Navy Frisbee before," Andrew said. "Well don't keep it to yourself Andrew!" Carrie admonished him, once she realized he wasn't going to say anything more. "All in good time Carrie; we're approaching those mini-Artillery guns the Army guys told us about," Andrew informed her. Just like the Army guys at the trucks, the guys manning the guns gladly posed for pictures with Andrew and his friends. After the pictures were taken, Andrew made sure to thank the soldiers for their service. The soldiers promptly thanked Andrew for his support, making Andrew feel very humbled and proud that he served his country like they did theirs. Then Andrew and his friends moved on, making their way around the northern edge of the Capitol Building until they reached the large plaza on the east side. "I have an idea for your next profile picture on MySpace Andrew," Mike said suddenly. "What is it Mike?" Andrew asked, as Carrie continued taking pictures. "Stand under the dome and raise your arms as if you're holding it up," Mike suggested. "We'll call it 'Capitol Muscle' or something." "I think 'Capitol Dome Military Press' has a better ring to it," Andrew said, positioning himself properly for the picture. He grinned as Mike took the picture and then asked, "There now Mike: are you happy now?" "Yes I am Andrew; let's head to the White House now," Mike suggested. "Before we go, take a picture towards the Washington Monument in the distance," Carrie suggested. "It's starting to get dark and it will make a great picture." Mike took the picture and then they made their way down Pennsylvania Avenue to the White House. Once they got there, they found lots of people taking pictures and after a couple of blurry attempts, they decided to cross the street so that they could get a better close-up view. "Good job Carrie; I think you're a better photographer than Mike," Andrew said proudly. "That's because I'm the Yearbook Photographer Andrew," Carrie reminded him with a smug grin as Mike frowned. "Are we finished taking pictures now?" Mike asked impatiently. "Can we get back to the lawn before the crowds leave us no place to sit to watch the fireworks?" "Good point Mike; it's almost sunset," Andrew realized. "And it looks like it's going to rain," he added, as the first drops began to fall. "You'd better use the umbrella in the backpack Carrie," Andrew suggested. "You don't want to get all wet." "What about you and Mike Andrew?" Carrie asked, as she took the fold-up umbrella out of the backpack. "Mike and I will drink in the water of life and it will cleanse us from our exertions over the last two hours," Andrew replied cryptically. "You mean the rain will wash off the sweat you worked up from playing football in the hot sun," Carrie laughed, amused at Andrew's attempt to sound wise and mysterious. "Those were pretty good metaphors you just used Andrew." "Thanks Carrie; sometimes I try to sound wise so that people don't forget that I have brains and not just brawn," Andrew informed her. "I don't think anyone who has seen you today with your shirt off will forget that you have brawn," Carrie assured him, making the understatement of the year. Andrew grinned at her in agreement as they made their way back to their spot near the Hirshhorn Museum, by way of the Washington Monument. ====================================================================================================================================================== Soon after JP and I finished throwing his Navy Frisbee around, the skies began to cloud up and it started to pour. We didn’t bother running for cover, instead letting the warm rain soak our skin, though Chrissy quickly realized she would have a problem. “Shit,” she cried, “I’m wearing a white shirt.” JP and I laughed as I loaned her my dark blue shirt so she could cover up her tits. She gave me a peck on the cheek and said, “Thanks, Matty.” I blushed, nervously looking over at my boyfriend who was sniggering. The sudden downpour didn’t last too long, however, and the sun quickly came out again just before it dipped behind the Washington skyline. JP and I decided to run to a nearby concession stand and get something to eat. As we stood in line, my boyfriend leaned over and whispered in my ear. “I think Chrissy’s starting to have a crush on you now,” he said. I looked at him like he was crazy. “Seriously,” he continued. “She knows I’m not interested in her anymore, so she’s moving on.” JP was always quick at picking these things up – or at least quicker than I. “But, I’m already taken,” I rebutted, looking fondly into his angelic eyes. “What am I going to do?” He grinned. “Welcome to my world,” he said, patting me firmly on the back. ======================================================================================================================================================= Andrew, Carrie and Mike got back to their spot on the lawn and marvelled at the view of the National Mall at dusk. "We should make this an annual event Carrie," Andrew informed his girlfriend. He looked towards the Washington Monument with the dusky sky behind it and added, "It's very relaxing here in DC, even on July 4th." "I agree Andrew," Carrie said, snuggling up against the massive chest of her boyfriend. "Plenty of eye candy too." "What do you mean?" Andrew asked her. "Did you see the guy to our left making spectacular dives to catch the Navy Frisbee his friend threw him a couple of hours ago?" "Yeah I did, before we got our pictures of the Capitol Building and the White House, " Andrew replied, smiling at the memory. "He's really athletic and muscular, and he's the same guy we saw on the train. I'm trying to figure out how to introduce myself to him, but I can't think of a good way to do it." He looked over to their left and realized something. "I don't see him now, or his brother, just his girlfriend lone on the blanket to our left." Then his eyes narrowed as he saw something that demanded his immediate attention. He stood up with his fists clenched and glared over to his left. "What is it Andrew?" Carrie asked him, standing up beside him. "Trouble," Andrew replied through gritted teeth. "Stay here Carrie; we'll be right back. Come on Mike." Carrie knew better than to argue with that tone of voice and she stayed behind as Andrew and Mike headed over to stop the troubling scene about to unfold. But as they soon found out, their intervention would prove unnecessary. ====================================================================================================================================================== It was almost dark by the time we headed back to our spot on the lawn. As we approached, JP grabbed my elbow, stopping me in my tracks. I looked at him puzzled, but he was staring grimly in Chrissy’s direction. She was lying on the blanket as two brawny college-aged jocks stalked toward her unseen, eyeing her schemingly. They were about to hit on her…and it was obvious that these guys were the type that would not take no for an answer. The bigger one must have outweighed me by at least 60 or 70 pounds – though a lot of it probably was fat – and the smaller one wasn’t much smaller. Their broad chests filled their wife-beaters to a near-ripping state, their arms thick with bulk. Cautiously, we snuck closer to within earshot. “Hey, baby,” the larger of the two nagged, startling Chrissy. “You alone tonight?” She craned her head up indignantly. “No,” she snapped firmly but calmly, “I’m with two guys who could knock you both out without a fight.” I gulped. Please tell me she’s bluffing, I thought. This only seemed to amuse them. “Really?” the other one retorted. “Well, I don’t see them around right now. You need someone to cuddle with?” “Don’t you even think about it!” I heard a deep voice bellow from behind me. It was JP, an intense fire bolting from his eyes, his muscles twitching with fury. The remaining twilight reflected off his body and buzzed head so magnificently, he was downright intimidating. The smaller guy’s mouth dropped open slightly when he sighted the kid, but the other guy remained unfazed. “This pretty boy is your boyfriend,” he smirked, peering at him assertively. “No,” JP returned without missing a beat, “but I am your worst nightmare.” It was the way he said those words that sent a chill down my spine. The older jock scoffed. “You wanna fight me? Us two against you two?” My heart was pounding and my knees were wobbling. What was JP doing? He couldn’t possibly be enticing the guys to fight us. Though I knew my boyfriend could take this guy, I was certain I’d be dead against the other. I froze. Arrogantly, the bigger dude sauntered up to JP who stood his ground, not moving a muscle. The two jocks were standing eyeball to eyeball, their beefy chests almost touching each other. The jerk slowly raised his fist, an egotistical sneer spreading across his face. That’s when JP struck. In the blink of an eye, JP pounced and expertly twisted his opponent’s arm behind his back, making him yelp in pain. Before he even had a chance to respond, the jerk’s head was forced back over his shoulder by JP’s other arm so that he looked him straight through the eyes. The guy had no choice but to look back as JP shot him his debilitating look of death. “You sure you wanna mess with me?” my boyfriend hissed. His challenger merely gagged in reply, JP’s powerful forearm practically crushing his windpipe. He realized he didn’t have a prayer with the champion wrestler who could, with one quick snap of his neck, take away his life. JP gave him one more squeeze and, as quickly as he had put his opponent in the position, he threw him out of it, leaving him coughing and sputtering on the ground. I stood there stunned. Other than during a wrestling match, never before had I seen him attack someone. It simply wasn’t a contest. The other guy may have weighed more, but he couldn’t match JP’s amazing strength and quickness. His friend helped him off the ground and the two hurried away, afraid to even look at the younger kid again. Immediately, Chrissy ran up and threw her arms around JP. “Oh my God, JP,” she exclaimed, her fingers barely able to fully grasp his huge shoulders, “that was so brave of you! Thanks!” Then, she gave him a big kiss on the cheek. JP merely shrugged and blushed a deep red. “Wait ‘till my brother hears about this.” JP looked back at her, smiling, happy to change the subject. “Nick’s coming to the wrestling camp this summer, right?” Chrissy nodded. “Are you kidding?” she answered. Her little brother Nick was 12 years old and was going to be in seventh grade the next school year. And like many boys in our area, he idolized JP. According to Chrissy, her brother had clipped out every newspaper article about his hero during wrestling season and had been bugging her to take him to a match. As soon as he heard that JP, along with the help of his coaches, was organizing a one-week summer wrestling camp for middle school kids, he instantly jumped at the chance and persuaded his parents to sign him up. Now, he was counting down the days until it started. “He wants to be just like you when he grows up,” Chrissy gushed. “Well, the great JP Maloney makes one helluva role model,” I added, patting my boyfriend on his wide back. "He certainly does," a very deep voice agreed from their right. JP and I looked over to where the voice came from and our jaws dropped. ======================================================================================================================================================= Andrew smirked slightly at the look of shock on both guys' faces. Then the bigger guy in the light blue tank top narrowed his eyes at Andrew, and asked him, "You want to try to mess with me too?" "No man," Andrew assured him, slightly intimidated by the guy's intensity, even though he outweighed him by about 100 pounds. "I just wanted to congratulate you on how well you took care of those two jerks. If someone tried anything like that with my girlfriend, I would have reacted the same way. I was about to intervene to help your girlfriend out but you got there first." "He's right JP," the girl said. "He was coming over to help me before you showed up; that's why I felt brave enough to tell those two jerks to go away." "Thanks man," JP said gratefully, calming down now that he knew the huge red-haired guy wasn't going to cause any trouble. "It's good to know that there are still some good guys left, instead of just jerks." He walked over to Andrew and held out his hand. "I'm JP Maloney of Central High School." "I thought you looked familiar," Andrew said, shaking JP's hand. "I've seen your picture in the Washington papers. I'm Andrew Pearson from Orillia District High School." "Andrew Pearson: the YouTube Football Star?" JP asked him with raised eyebrows. "You've heard of me?" Andrew asked him in surprise. "Yeah man; you're famous, at least online," JP informed him. "You must be really smart, using a new video-sharing website to get the attention of the NCAA Recruiters that way." "Yeah man," Andrew agreed, unconsciously mimicking his new friend's speech patterns. "But to prove it, I'd better remember to introduce my friends to you. The big guy with brown hair beside me is Mike and the girl beside him is my girlfriend Carrie." "Pleased to meet you Carrie," JP said, shaking her hand gently. He turned to Mike and shook his hand firmly. "What's up man?" "My height and weight relative to yours," Mike replied, realizing that he outweighed JP by more than 100 pounds of solid muscle. "You're right about that man," JP agreed. "But I'll get big like you one day." "I'm sure you will JP," his friend agreed. He stepped forward with his hand outstretched. "I'm Matt Anderson: JP's best friend." And more than that, JP thought, as Mike and Andrew shook Matt's hand. Then Carrie and Chrissy shook hands and introduced themselves. "Since all introductions have been made, would you and your friends like to watch the fireworks with us?" JP asked Andrew. "It's the least I can do since you were ready to help Chrissy before I got there." "Thanks man; we'd love to," Andrew replied, after Mike and Carrie nodded in agreement. "Mike: go bring our blanket and bag over here." "Yes sir!" Mike shouted jokingly, saluting Andrew as he ran to their spot on the lawn to the right of JP's group. "Mike did that salute pretty well; is he in the military?" JP asked Andrew. "No, but his older brother is and so am I," Andrew replied quietly. "Thank you for your service Andrew," JP said gratefully, clapping Andrew on the shoulder. "Thank you for your support JP," Andrew said gratefully. "You're welcome man," JP said. "Now, since you're military, I bet you can guess what my initials stand for." "I can guess John Paul, but that's it," Andrew informed him. "Were you named after someone famous?" "Yes: John Paul Jones: the U.S. Naval Hero," JP replied proudly. "And you are a hero as well man," Andrew assured him proudly. "What you did to that guy who was bugging Chrissy proved that conclusively." "Thanks man," JP said gratefully. His face turned angry as he added, "But it wasn't just heroics that made me do that." "What do you mean man?" Andrew asked him quietly, leading JP away from their friends. "Or would you prefer I don't ask?" "No, it's okay Andrew; even though we just met, I know I can trust you to keep this quiet," JP assured him. He waited for Andrew's nod of agreement before he continued. "I saw my older brother's face in my mind as I had my arm around the throat of that guy." "I see; you have some transference issues with a former mentor who turned against you," Andrew said with a sudden look of understanding. "How did you figure that out?" JP asked in astonishment; amazed that Andrew could read his mind so exactly. "My former best friend Steve used to be my mentor as I started working out," Andrew revealed. "But when I exceeded him in size and strength, his jealously revealed itself as he started bashing my proteges: like Mike there." "I can't imagine why anyone would bash someone as big as Mike," JP said with a faint look of fear on his face. "He's as big as you and you must be at least 6 foot 6 and 300 pounds of solid muscle!" "6 foot 7 and 305 pounds actually," Andrew said. "Mike and I are the exact same height and weight; pretty amazing considering he was just 5 feet tall and 80 pounds when I started training him in the fall of 1998." He noticed JP's look of astonishment and decided to switch topics. "But enough about me: let's throw my Miami football around for a few minutes and you can tell me all about your older brother." "Good idea man," JP agreed, as Andrew signalled Mike to throw him the football. He smiled as Mike threw the ball with a perfect spiral and Andrew caught it effortlessly with one hand. "You and Mike make a good team Andrew." "I should hope so; we got our team to the Provincial Championship last season," Andrew remembered. "Unfortunately our team lost, but this year we'll win!" "I'm sure you will Andrew," JP agreed, smiling at his new friend with pride in his eyes. "Have you found that your success has cost you personally like mine has?" "Yeah man," Andrew replied sadly, as he turned away to look towards the Washington Monument. "My best friend of five years turned against me after I beat up the class bully, and we've barely spoken since. It sucked man, and it still hurts almost seven years later." "I know exactly how you feel man," JP said, stepping forward to lay a hand on Andrew's massive shoulder. He was amazed that he and Andrew had encountered such similar problems as they had achieved great athletic success. "My older brother Ryan turned against me once I got close to his size and strength, which is very ironic since he was the one who taught me how to work out in the first place." "That's too bad man," Andrew said, turning around and patting JP's shoulder gently. He looked back at their group and noticed Matt smiling proudly. "But it looks like you've found a new older brother in your best friend Matt." "Yeah, Matt's been great to me over the last couple of years," JP agreed. "He's really filled the void in my life that Ryan created when he walked away." He left out the part about Matt being his boyfriend; not sure that Andrew would understand. "Anyway, enough talk Andrew; time for some football." "Good idea man," Andrew agreed, lifting up his football. "Go long man; let's see how much you've learned." More than you know man, JP thought smugly, remembering fondly how Ryan had played football with him when he was younger. He jogged further down the lawn; closer to the Capitol Building. He stopped in a part of the lawn clear of people but then noticed everyone around him staring at his ripped muscles in awe. JP smirked and thought, Just wait until you see the size of the guy who throws me the football! JP held up his hands to let Andrew know that he was ready to catch the football, but then he had to dive back to catch it because Andrew threw it too far. Man, he's scary strong; I wouldn't want to get on his bad side! JP thought in astonishment and a little fear. I'm just glad that he wasn't the one bugging Chrissy; I wouldn't have been able to scare him away! "Wow, you're really strong Andrew!" JP shouted to his new friend. "What are your stats anyway?" "Six foot seven, 305 lbs, 25 inch biceps and a one-rep max bench of 880 pounds," Andrew replied smugly, crossing his huge arms over his massive chest. Everyone around him, friends and strangers alike, turned to stare at him in awe. Andrew grinned and waved at his new fans; then he flexed his massive biceps and laughed. "Yeah, it's all true everyone, as you can see on MySpace. Just look up Andrew the Tank and you'll find all my pictures!" JP's jaw had dropped along with all the onlookers, but he managed to close his mouth as Andrew turned back to look at him with a cocky smirk. "Are you going to hold that football until it gets completely dark JP?" Andrew teased him. JP shook his head with a sheepish grin and tossed the football back to Andrew in a perfect spiral. "Those stats are really impressive man," he congratulated his big friend, grinning as Andrew caught his catch with just one hand. "You must be a god on the football field." "Yeah I am man," Andrew agreed with a smug grin. "Want to see me catch my own thrown football?" "Yeah man and I'll catch it all on video to show my friends later," JP said, getting out his digital camera. He looked at the screen, after turning it on, and added, "Just stay in the light of the street lamps Andrew and I'll be able to catch everything." "Hey, who do you think you are, giving me orders Little Man?" Andrew sneered with an arrogant grin. He chuckled at JP's sudden look of fear and added, "I was just kidding man; don't get scared." "I wasn't scared Andrew," JP bluffed, hoping that no one besides Andrew had seen the look of fear on his face. "I just thought you were serious, that's all." "I understand," Andrew assured him, meaning that he knew how important maintaining the image of a fearless jock was when one was big and strong. "Are you ready JP?" "I'm ready Andrew," JP replied, turning the knob to video and pressing the record button. "Show me what you've got Big Brother," he blurted out without thinking, wishing Andrew was Ryan. "Okay Little Brother; get ready to be amazed!" Andrew shouted, realizing that he regarded JP as a protege just like he did Mike. Andrew coked his arm back and threw his football high above the treetops. He then ran down the mall towards the Capitol Building and turned to see his football curving down over the treetops. Andrew adjusted his course laterally to intercept it and caught it neatly in his arms. "Yeah!" Andrew shouted in excitement, spiking the ball and flexing his massive biceps. "Now that's how it's done!" Everyone around Andrew who had witnessed his amazing feat clapped and cheered for him, causing Andrew's face to turn red with embarrassment. JP grinned as he approached the crowd gathering around his new 'big brother', pleased that Andrew was acting humble instead of cocky. Wait until I show this video to my friends, JP thought to himself. If Andrew agrees, I may even post it on that new video-sharing site called YouTube! Then his great football skills could reach even more college recruiters! As JP reached the edges of the crowd, his admiration for Andrew grew as he saw his big friend patiently signing autographs, posing for pictures and giving some smaller guys workout tips. If only Ryan was like that instead of being a cocky jerk! JP thought angrily. Then he would be worthy of the Big Brother title like Andrew is! Andrew looked up from signing autographs and noticed JP suddenly looking very sad. He whistled to catch JP's attention and when JP looked up, he said, "Join me in the center of the crowd man." Everyone turned to see who Andrew was motioning at, and their jaws dropped as they saw JP's incredible musculature. JP suddenly became very embarrassed as everyone started asking him for pictures, autographs and workout tips. "Did you tell everyone about my success last year in wrestling?" JP asked Andrew once the crowd of fans had finally dispersed. "I didn't have to man; once I mentioned your name, everyone knew who you were already," Andrew replied. He looked down at JP with a brotherly grin as he added, "You're famous man." "Well, perhaps in this town anyway," JP muttered, suddenly embarrassed. "But you're famous all over this continent man; thanks to your YouTube videos! With your permission, I'd like to post that video of you catching your own thrown football for the US college football coaches to see. Then you'll be recruited even more than you have been! As a Canadian, you're going to need that kind of cutting-edge digital exposure to be noticed enough by the NCAA to be offered a full football scholarship!" "Ok JP, you've made your point, with lots of big words no less," Andrew teased him. As they began walking back to their friends in the center of the National Mall, he asked, "How high is your IQ man?" "Just shy of genius level, so about 150," JP admitted. "Mine's the same as yours man," Andrew realized. "Maybe that's why we're able to carry on an intelligent conversation instead of just carrying a football." "But right now, you're carrying a football Andrew, so what does that say about your intelligence?" JP teased him. "It says that I'm a smart jock, not a dumb one, because I'm actually able to speak entire sentences JP," Andrew reminded him with a smirk. "But if you really want me to act like a dumb jock, I'm sure I could learn." "That's not necessary Andrew; there's already one dumb jock in my life; I don't need another," JP said bitterly, clenching his fists as he thought about what a big jerk Ryan had turned into over the past couple of years. "I'm not going to turn out like my brother; I'm aiming higher in life than just college sports." "Well you have good aim so far JP," Andrew commended him as they made their way down the path shaded by the tall trees. As they skirted their way around the Washington Monument fence, he added, "You'd be great at football man, but from what I saw earlier, wrestling is your first love." Matt is my first love, JP thought, smiling at the thought of the wonderful summer he was going to have with his boyfriend. "Wrestling was my first love Andrew, but once I found Matt, I found someone I could really love," JP said without thinking. "Yeah, I understand what it's like to love someone like a brother," Andrew said, completely missing JP's slip. "I can see that you look at Matt as a substitute for your brother Ryan." "As I do with you now Andrew, " JP blurted out, feeling like he'd known Andrew for years. Andrew's jaw dropped in astonishment and JP hurriedly explained: "It's been really hard not having a mentor for the past couple of years man; I guess I just admire you a lot for not acting like a cocky jerk just because you're great at football." "No problem JP," Andrew assured him, once he realized what JP was trying to say. "I don't mind being your 'Honorary Big Brother' as you prepare for your college career. I'm only a phone call or email away and my hometown of Orillia is only a day's drive from here." "Thanks for being my 'Honorary Big Brother' Andrew," JP said gratefully. "I'm hoping to get a wrestling scholarship to Ohio State so that I can stay with Matt. Of course, since he's one year older than me, like you are, this is the last year we'll have together." "I know what that's like man; my friend Mark Stevenson gets a full football scholarship to Miami this fall," Andrew said. "I'll really miss him man, just as I'm sure you'll miss Matt when he goes to college in a year." He noticed what looked like a hint of tears in JP's eyes and suddenly realized that Matt and JP were more than just brothers to each other. But instead of sharing his sudden insight with his new friend, Andrew asked, "Has Ohio State recruited you yet JP?" "No man, but since I'm just going into my Junior Year, it won't be long until they do," JP predicted with a cocky smirk. "Have you visited the campus yet?" Andrew asked. "No man; why do you ask?" JP asked curiously. "I'm going to Ohio State in a few days for a recruiting visit," Andrew replied. "I know we just met, and we should ask your parents first, but would you and Matt like to come with me?" JP's jaw dropped in astonishment, amazed that Andrew (a stranger one hour ago) was proposing a road trip. But then he saw Andrew's serious look and realized that he had found a new mentor to replace his big brother Ryan. Andrew is the big brother I wish Ryan still was, JP realized. I see now that guys don't have to be related to be brothers. "That would be great Andrew," JP said, once he could speak again. He stepped closer to his new friend and motioned him to bend down. Andrew did so and JP whispered in his ear, "You're really filling the void that Ryan left when he walked away from me Andrew. I never told Matt this, but it sucked having to work out by myself without a mentor around. And even though he has been emotionally absent for the past year, this fall Ryan will be physically absent as well, since he's going off to Virginia Tech. So I have no one left to look up to. But now I can look up to you as a big brother, just like I once did with Ryan." "I'm only an email or phone call away JP," Andrew reminded him, pulling out his flip phone so that he could give JP his cell number. "And since I'm physically present, not absent, you can look up to me right now." JP chuckled as Andrew straightened up to his full height and crossed his huge arms over his massive chest. Andrew grinned at him smugly and added, "I love mentoring the little guys like-" "Little?!" JP interrupted, his cockiness suddenly returning. He flexed his 16 inch bicep and sneered, "Does this look little to you Andrew?" "Yes it does, compared to mine JP," Andrew informed him sternly, flexing his massive 25 inch bicep. JP's cocky smirk vanished quickly and Andrew nodded in satisfaction. "Remember JP, you may be the big man at your school, but then there's college and the real world to consider." JP nodded in sudden understanding, realizing that his new friend Andrew was only one of many men out there who were bigger and stronger than he was. "I'm going to tell you how my dad's cockiness prematurely ended his NFL career JP; then you'll understand why you should be more modest and humble in public." JP nodded soberly and Andrew began telling him the story about how his dad had given in to all the hype and started drinking and driving fast during his NFL career. That carefree attitude led to the car accident that shattered Chad's kneecap, tore his ACL and ended his NFL days forever. Then Chad had to crawl back to Orillia and start from the bottom of his boss's company as a Management Intern. JP's eyes widened in understanding as Andrew told him the story and he realized that his big brother could be headed for a rude awakening as well. But I'll be the one that causes it, JP thought to himself. His fists clenched as he remembered his first reason for working out: to beat up his brother one day. JP had no idea how prophetic that goal would become and how it would change both his and Ryan's lives forever. It was just about completely dark by the time Andrew and JP got back to their friends sitting on the lawn, where they had an unobstructed view of the Washington Monument. It's about time you got back here Andrew; Mike had to fill in for you," Carrie teased him. "I hope not Carrie; you only have one boyfriend and that's me," Andrew growled, glaring at Mike. JP felt as nervous as Mike looked and Carrie had to assure Andrew that she and Mike were just friends. Matt and Chrissy looked really nervous too, and JP suddenly realized that they had looked just like that as he had held that guy in a wrestling hold barely half an hour earlier. JP scratched the back of his shaved head, embarrassed that he had allowed his bad feelings about Ryan to make him lash out like that. I've got to let Matt know later why I did that, JP realized. I hope he understands like Andrew did. He breathed a sigh of relief along with everyone else when Andrew's angry look faded into a sheepish grin. "Sorry about that guys," Andrew apologized. "I guess I was just afraid that some guys would try to cause trouble with you like they did with Chrissy earlier." "What JP did to those guys is nothing compared to what you could do Andrew," Carrie reminded him. "You could have snapped their necks like twigs!" "You'd better tell everyone your idea Andrew, before the fireworks start," JP said suddenly, anxious to change the subject. "Oh yeah, thanks for reminding me man," Andrew said gratefully, slapping his new friend on the shoulder. JP concealed a wince as Andrew quickly told Carrie and Mike his idea about Matt and JP coming along on their Ohio State Recruiting Visit. "What do you think Carrie?" "It sounds great, especially since Mike and I got a chance to know Matt and Chrissy while you and JP were playing football," Carrie replied. "Good, then it's all settled except for the timing," Andrew realized. He turned to JP and said, "We're staying in the Washington area for another day before leaving on the 6th. Is that good for you and Matt?" "Yes Andrew; that should give you guys enough time to meet my parents and Matt's mom to get their permission," JP replied. Andrew looked embarrassed that he hadn't thought of that. "Don't feel bad that you forgot about that step Andrew; I think my dad will approve of you. He's really upset that Ryan took off this summer on a road trip instead of being around to mentor me; he'll be glad I've found a new mentor." "Anything I can do to help man," Andrew said quietly, feeling sobered by the fact that JP held him in such high esteem. But then he realized that JP would never have told him so much while they were alone if he didn't trust him implicitly. "I'll be there for you as much as I can JP, even when I'm away at college. As I've told you twice before now, I'm only a phone call or email away." JP grinned at his big friend, but he also felt sad that it wasn't Ryan saying those things. Where did I go wrong with Ryan? JP asked himself. Have I lost my brother forever? He should be here, sharing one last Independence Day at home with me instead of Andrew having to fill his role as my big brother! JP was distracted from his sad thoughts by the first fireworks going off and he let his cares drift away as he enjoyed the view with his friends and new 'Big Brother.' "The second one looked just like a side profile of Abraham Lincoln!" Carrie shouted in astonishment. "Do you think it was deliberately launched that way?" "I don't know Carrie, but if Mike's been taking pictures, we can find out later," Andrew replied, looking over at his big friend. Mike held up the digital camera to let Andrew know that he wasn't missing anything. "For now Carrie, let's be quiet and enjoy the show." Carrie nodded in agreement and leaned back into Andrew's massive chest. She smiled as Andrew's muscular arms folded around her gently and she realized that there was nowhere she's rather be than in the arms of her boyfriend. ===================================================================================================================================================== The rest of that night was amazing. I couldn’t stop myself from looking over at JP as the fireworks illuminated his flawless face, the different colors reflecting in his dazzling eyes. Every now and then, he would glance over at me and smile. A tear rolled down my cheek. I was so overwhelmed by his beauty and his love for me. How the hell did I get so lucky? Chrissy’s head was leaning on my lap, but I found myself wishing it were JP’s instead. I wanted him near me every minute of the day. ====================================================================================================================================================== Once the fireworks were over around 10 pm, the crowds began clearing out of the National Mall. "I'm not ready to go home yet; what about you guys?" JP asked his new friends. "I'd like to see the Lincoln Memorial," Andrew replied. When his friends nodded in agreement, he asked JP, "Would you and your friends like to join us?" "We'd be glad to Andrew," JP replied, as Matt and Chrissy nodded in agreement. "If you look beyond the Washington Monument, you can see the Lincoln Memorial from here." Andrew and his friends looked to the west and saw that JP was right. Mike took a picture as everyone admired the view. "There, now that we've seen the Lincoln Memorial, we can go home," Matt said impatiently, eager to be alone with JP. "I think Andrew meant to see it up close, as well as inside Matt," JP reminded his boyfriend with a frown. Andrew nodded in agreement and JP smirked at his boyfriend. "See, I told you Matt!" "Okay JP, I give up: we'll see Lincoln up close," Matt sighed. "Then can we go home?" "Yeah we can Matt," JP agreed, realizing that Matt was eager to be alone with him. He led his friends across the street to the path that led to the western end of the National Mall. Everyone admired the view as they walked down the path on the north side of the Tidal Basin. Andrew made sure to take a picture of the Korean War Memorial, since his deceased grandfather had fought in that war as well as World War II. The six friends finally reached the Lincoln Memorial and saw lots of people climbing the stairs, even though it was after 10:30 pm. "Quite a crowd JP," Andrew commented. "I never expected to see so many people at this monument at this time of night." "Abraham Lincoln was arguably the most famous president in our nation's history Andrew," JP reminded his big friend. "And this memorial has been the sight of many famous events since it was constructed. That's why it draws such big crowds at all times: about six million people per year." "I understand JP," Andrew said soberly, realizing the great pride JP felt for his country. "Can we go inside now?" "Sure Andrew," JP agreed, feeling sheepish that he had soured the good mood they had been enjoying most of the evening. "Follow me man; I'll get us through the crowds." Andrew and his friends followed JP up the stairs into the Lincoln Memorial and made their way through the crowds until they could get a good shot of Abraham Lincoln sitting on his chair. "That was a very good picture Mike; especially since you caught the words about Lincoln's memory being enshrined forever," Andrew commended his friend. "Thanks Andrew; I thought you'd appreciate that, considering the events of seven months ago," Mike replied. Andrew glared at Mike at first, remembering that his grandfather had died a year before a few weeks before Christmas, but then he realized that Mike had been trying in his own way to honour Bert Pearson's memory. "Thanks man; I do appreciate it," Andrew assured him, his glare fading into a sad smile as he put a gentle hand on Mike's shoulder. JP asked him what was wrong as they headed back towards the Washington Monument and Andrew told him about his war veteran grandfather: who had served in World War II and Korea during his 20 years of service in the Canadian Forces. After Andrew finished the story, JP realized that he shared a deeper kinship with his new friend than he had first thought: considering that both their grandfathers had served in the military. The group of six friends had reached the Washington Monument by then, and they got a good close-up shot. "Well, it's been great getting to know you JP, but we should get back to our hotel now," Andrew said, checking his watch. "It's almost 11:30." "If you came with us on the Metro, we can drop you off at the Pentagon City Station and then you'll have a much shorter walk back to your hotel," JP offered. "I have an idea of what we can do tomorrow." Andrew looked over at Carrie and Mike, who nodded in agreement. He looked back at JP and said, "Good idea man; thanks for thinking of that." "I'm a little surprised that you didn't Andrew," JP teased him, as they began walking to the L'Enfant Plaza Metro Station. "It's not because I'm not smart like you JP; it's because I'm from out of town," Andrew reminded him with a mock glare. When he saw JP trying not to look scared, Andrew laughed and assured him, "I'm just kidding man; we never would have had such a great Fourth of July if we hadn't met you and your friends!" Mike and Carrie grinned and nodded in agreement and JP breathed a sigh of relief. When he thought back to the one bad incident of the evening, he realized that if those two college jocks hadn't harassed Chrissy, he would never have met Andrew: his new mentor and substitute Big Brother. I wouldn't have traded this evening for anything, JP thought to himself, very pleased that he had once again found someone he could look up to. He hoped that with Andrew's help, he could one day repair his relationship with his older brother, though he suspected it would get worse before it would get better. About half an hour later, Andrew and his friends said goodbye to JP and his friends, agreeing to meet them the next afternoon at Burke Lake Park: a large park near JP's house. "Thanks for a wonderful day at the National Mall JP," Andrew said, as he stepped off the train at Pentagon City Station. "See you at Burke Lake Park tomorrow. Call me when you're ready to meet." "No problem man," JP said, holding the doors open as Mike and Carrie stepped off to stand beside Andrew on the platform. "Thanks for the wonderful opportunity to see Ohio State in a few days with you and your friends. Have a good night Andrew." "You're welcome man," Andrew said, as the doors began to close. "See you tomorrow 'Little Brother'." The doors closed before JP could reply and he quickly raised his hand to wave goodbye to Andrew. As the train pulled away from the platform, JP wished more than anything that he was waving to his true big brother Ryan. Please let me know what you think and if I did justice to the JP Character and his innermost thoughts, a point of view that I can't remember being shown before in either the JP or Nick stories. Note: I will gradually transfer the illustrated version of the story onto my website: http://seanspictures.webs.com. All the pictures will come from my trip to Washington DC on July 3rd, 2011.

The Labours of Hugh By Chip Masterson For the Seigneur de M. “My God, what is that beast?” My master and I stood in awe as we watched a lone man carry an entire butt of beer on his back and gently drop it in place. You could hear it slosh - a thousand pounds of beer carried as lightly as a side of beef! But what looked like a man – or the absolute ideal of what a man could be – had the face of boy no older than I. His downy face looked untouched by a razor, yet the width of his shoulders rivaled every champion assembled here, with helmet-sized shoulders and chest muscles as thick as a man’s torso. His bare arms dwarfed my skinny legs, yet his waist, carved into grooves like a cathedral column, was flatter than mine. His legs were covered with several boar-hides stitched together, and with calves pushing them up like a giant’s fists. As he turned to leave, I could see he was so thick from the front edge of his chest to the highest peaks on his back, that if I were to stand with my back against his arm, his torso breadth would my shoulder-width. That back! A dozen crevices zigzagged among the humped cobbles and stony plateaus, undulating and transforming like a landscape in a dream. I pinched myself – I was awake. My master, Sir Alain, a knight of the royal court, had come to Chateaulin bearing the king’s congratulations to Count Houel on the birth of his second son. The Count was throwing a birth festival before hosting the folkmoot, and my master had entered the lists. He was speaking with the Marshal of the castle, Sir Geoff. Sir Geoff looked amused by our gawking. “That’s Hugh, one of my boys,” Sir Geoff explained. “He’s about the age of your boy here.” “Impossible!” Sir Alain sputtered. “I’ve seen quarry workers who couldn’t rival him for size!” “I rescued him after his parents exposed him in the woods,” Sir Geoff continued. “I soon discovered why – when he became impatient for food or cleaning, he smashed his crib to splinters with his tiny newborn fists. They feared raising a prodigy, but in some way, I felt commanded to care for him – I guessed then it was the voice of God, but now….” He paused, and changed course. “He’s very lonely – the other boys avoid him. He spends a great deal of time hunting alone in the forest.” “The Count allows a boy in the chase?” Sir Alain sustained shock after shock, and he hadn’t even mounted his steed yet. “The Count and all the farmers are grateful,” Sir Geoff explained. “Since he began entering the forest, we haven’t seen or heard a single wolf – it’s been years now. He eats like several men, and I can hardly increase his rations in front of the other boys, so he supplements his hunger with boars and other things he catches with his hands. The husbandmen even give him a portion of meat at every slaughter in thanks for his protection. It’s almost pagan,” Geoff added with a wry smile. “What a remarkable warrior he would be,” Sir Alain marveled, “if only he had a better station, and not born for the front line. Robert Guiscard could take all of Italy and drive Emperor Constantine into the arms of the Turks. But perhaps the work of a beast is a more fitting utilization of his unique – talents – after all. Providence is never wrong.” Sir Geoff looked at him sideways with his arms crossed, and said nothing. Soon we were preparing for the joust, a new form where, instead of a mass charge around the field, two knights face each other one-on-one and try not to get killed. I was nervous as a girl, though only King Philip could beat my master (though “beat” might not be a completely accurate description of what actually happened). My master was called against Sir Geoff and the knights rode out, the sunlight dancing off their shiny mail hauberks. They leveled their lances, and at the signal, charged. Almost immediately a strap on Sir Geoff’s saddle broke and he wobbled – but through his narrow visor, my master must not have noticed. Geoff couldn’t brace himself for a thrust and my master glanced a blow off his shoulder that sent Geoff spinning through the air and landing with a hearty smack. Everyone rose in silent suspense. My master had already turned about, still not realizing what had happened, not seeing see Geoff’s boys rush to his aid, . He began his parade – but a spur only jostled him in his saddle – his horse neighed but didn’t move. He kicked again but his mount’s effort to spring only resulting in it being pulled back into the air. My master dropped onto his back in the mud. Stunned, Alain looked up and saw Hugh holding his horse by the tail, fury etched into his handsome young face. “A strap broke – it wasn’t far, you should have stopped!” Hugh yelled – a shocking breach of order. My master flailed but couldn’t rise. My fellow knaves hesitated at the sight of Hugh – only I had quickly sprinted over – so Hugh cheekily slid his arm underneath my masters and effortlessly pulled him to his feet. They were the same height – maybe Hugh was my age, but he was easily a foot taller. “Apologize at once!” Hugh demanded, pressing his chest forward and making my master step awkwardly back. The audience gasped again at these unprecedented offenses, the Count himself shocked speechless. Instinctively raising his shield against Hugh’s “well-armed” aggression, Alain glared past him, glaring at a helmetless Geoff, who winced as boys removed his armor. “Sir, control your boy before his unseemly pride proves fatal!” Whether the threat irked Hugh more than being ignored, I’ll never know, but I saw Hugh’s jaw clench. In a blur, his arm sprang into the air, parallel with the ground, and punched my master’s shield in a quick, efficiently lethal motion – as if my master were livestock for slaughtering. Alain stumbled backward, sucking for air – the blow had split his shield and the horribly dented steel boss had torn the leather hide, sliced through the mail and sunk into Alain’s chest. The leather hide covering the shield trapped his strapped arms – he couldn’t breathe, and couldn’t pull it off. He fell on his knees, stunned and bleeding. The boys huddled in terror so I pleaded with Hugh, “Help him! He’s dying!” Rage melted from Hugh’s face like a passing storm and he realized with alarm what his immeasurable power had done – and to a man ostensibly his “better.” Hugh grabbed each side of the shield and wrenched them apart, shredding the hide covering and exposing the boss. He pulled that out and blood spurted against his face. He put his fingers into the mail and ripped it open like rotten cloth, pressing on the wound to staunch the flow until my fellows braved his proximity and aided our master. The doctor rushed forward, relieved that he could bind the wound without having the remove the mail shirt first. Count Houel rose imperiously and called for Geoff. I couldn’t hear what they said, but Geoff kept nodding and Houel furiously pounded his fist in his palm. Hugh stood a few feet from me with his head down. I smelled something sweet and salty I couldn’t quite place – I closed my eyes and it tickled the back of my mind. Like a memory I haven’t lived yet. I’d secretly taken the twisted and torn boss, and now surreptitiously fingered it behind my back – feeling the shape of his knuckles where they turned it inside-out, the warped edge that had torn and hurt him it should be protecting. Fortunately it missed his heart and lungs – but it’s the kind of scar you want from battle – not from a boy’s fist. Geoff went to Alain first, confirming the punishment, then came over and placed his hand on Hugh’s shoulder. His hand rose and fell like a rowboat at sea as Hugh breathed. Hugh nodded and walked around the center rail. A riffle disturbed the female stands, back and forth like a cauldron being stirred. Two big yoked draft horses were brought out and I understood what Hugh faced. I dropped to my knee beside my master and said, “Please, my lord, please spare his life! I’m sure he can be reformed! I believe he can do anything, anything he sets his mind to.” Alain patted my arm. “We’re only frightening him with what will happen if he doesn’t learn his place. The ostlers won’t let him get hurt. Too badly.” As I helped him into chair, I heard Hugh say, “What about my other arm?” My balls tingled. I shifted from foot to foot as a strange irritation grew in my groin. Two more horses were brought up from the stable. Hugh stuck out his arms, releasing feral tangles of reddish-gold curls sprouting beneath them and spraying a mist of sweat. With ropes, the ostlers lashed Hugh’s wrists to the yokes. Then, to guarantee the horses wouldn’t bolt and kill him, their bridles were lashed to the corners of the court, with enough slack that they could apply a torturous pressure that would remind Hugh of his place in the future. The horses fidgeted nervously, nostrils flaring and hooves kneading the dirt. Houel made an angry speech about honor and respect, but sensing a universal impatience, yielded Alain the field. Alain lifted his hand, and dropped it wearily. The ostlers promptly goaded the horses forward. The ropes leading from Hugh’s wrists twisted, but so did the ropes between his wrists and shoulders – his arms that almost dwarfed the haunches of the horses themselves. Each horse took several steps before its hooves slid against the dirt. Alain nodded again and the ostlers urged the horses harder – but the beasts could only lean into their bridles until the effort made them shake. Hugh stared at a point in the sky, his torso rising and falling, his legs planted like oaks. The stable boys urged the horses forward, but their legs could only dig grooves in the ground. Hugh turned his arms slightly, aligning his heaped shoulders with the winglike flare of his back, and refused to move. A sheen of sweat dappled the burnished golden down covering him, and I caught that sweet, wild scent stirring me – though there was no breeze. I realized it came from under Hugh’s arms. The horses smelled something different – their nostrils flared and with a single shriek, they bolted – or rather, attempted it. Hugh panicked at the sound and tensed his arms – two horses stumbled onto their forelegs. Hugh bolted them all in place. His hands gripped the ropes with white knuckles and his unexpected restraint multiplied panic into terror. The horses threw themselves against the ropes, bucking and springing, but only rising straight up instead of forward. The teams danced side to side, seeking any advantage over the terrible weight that pinned them down – and Hugh, squinting, jerked the ropes tight and stopped their dancing. Hugh pulled his shoulder blades together, his flesh humping and squeezing together. This dragged the horses backwards, and they screamed and stamped the ground in fear and fury. Hugh bent his elbows, tightening his arm muscles, and sixteen hooves skidded toward him half a metre. His hands twisted and he gripped the rope farther along, pulling it toward him as his swollen arms turned purple with veins. Though only half-bent, the meat of his forearms pressed against his bulbous upper arms. The horses’ eyes rolled with panic, their mouths frothing and chomping their bits. Hugh closed his eyes and, swaying side to side as he absorbed the animals’ combined efforts, raised his fists higher and brought them closer together. The reins to the court posts tautened and, as the audience gawped in amazement, the horses themselves rose off the ground and floundered, writhing helplessly in mid-air. Hugh twisted the rope again and drew more into his relentless fingers, his chest rippling with dents and ridges as he fought to bring his fists together, lungs heaving. The animals twisted as they stretched between the posts and Hugh, their shrieks strangled by the pressure into hoarse gasps of desperation. Urine and shit poured out of each animal as Hugh’s inexorable hands reached for each other. A shocking crack of splitting timbers shook the stands as the posts gave way – but not enough. A groan like stretching leather was followed with a horribly wet FWWWWUMMMPPPPP! Hugh’s fists knocked against each other – because his arms had ripped four horses apart, spewing blood and gore over his rounded masses and into the crowd. The torn torsos flew towards him and clumped into the dirt while the head-half rebounded into stands. Some people screamed and ran but some couldn’t move, shaking or trembling. Flushed with victory, Hugh smiled broadly and quickly shredded his rope. He opened his eyes and saw with disbelief what carnage his arms had wrought. His skin glowing and his entire body heaved for air, a weird pride surmounting the grotesquerie. Young maidens surged from the stands, yammering and gazing devotedly at him. Pleased (and a little stunned), he flexed his arms and the girls caught their breath – a couple swooned. The bush-covered, deep round pocket that sank between his back and chest and smelled warm and inviting. One bold lass reached out to touch him, giggling, her fingers flying back as if burned. “It’s okay,” Hugh said. “I can make it bigger.” Hugh began pumping his arms, and muscles still swollen from the struggle turned from red to violet, with blue veins snaking under the skin. Each pump expanded his arms got bigger, until their round shape changed and a second peaked cap rose above the bulk. The maidens were all modestly attired – not a bosom in sight – and yet his presence, his heat, his scent compelled their hands to reach for him, regardless of propriety. Several of the girls swarmed around him, their fingers exploring his physique as they might a statue of Hercules. With a huge smile, Hugh dropped his arms and thrust out his chest, letting them uselessly poke their fingers into its obdurate surface, feel its edges and contours. I could see it dawning on their astonished faces how Hugh’s living flesh mocked the so-called armor of the knights. As their fingertips traced the arabesque of ridges in his back, I could also see a single pulse along one leg of his trousers. Hugh’s own eyes now brightened as the fawning girls sparked pleasure in his man-parts, which in turn shadowed his handsome face with anxiety. Despite his advance development, I guessed he’d always used his arms and legs as tools, never experienced a rush of triumphant potency flooding his limbs, then reaching beyond them and enthralling the opposite sex. The girls’ desire sparked lightning which flowed through his muscles to his manhood, forever fusing sexual arousal with displaying his body and exerting his strength. As if he were entirely a living erection. A savage bellow erupted from suddenly jostling shrubbery and in a cloud of dust, a massive bull appeared, its nose bloody where it ripped away from its ring. The girls shrieked and fled, many simply crouching behind Hugh. The bull faced Hugh and pawed the ground, challenging him. I heard my master say, “There’s something in Hugh’s sweat that disturbs stallions and bulls alike. It maddened those horses, and now our bull senses his dominance threatened.” Before anyone could move, the bull lowered its broad head and charged, lance-sharp horns swinging wildly. Hugh growled back and actually ran at the bull, bulging arms cocked and ready to spring. They met in a thunderclap of bone striking bone-hard muscle as Hugh slammed his chest against the bull’s skull. Each animal bounced back from the impact, the bull staggering with its tongue out. Hugh recovered first and grabbed the horns low. Digging his mighty legs into the soft earth, he shoved the bull’s skidding hooves back, away from the stands. But the bull seemed locked on his enemy – it swung and shook its huge head – or attempted to. Hugh grunted and rocked sideways; his shoulders turning ominously toward the beast, each like a head sprouting a thicker horn. The bull bucked his head until Hugh slowly, steadily, unmercifully slowed it into immobility. The bull pulled back and twisted its thick neck the other way – but Hugh twisted his wrists and raised his elbows, checking its progress and holding it tight. With a strained groan, Hugh forced the shuddering head back up. The bull tried to toss Hugh up into the air but Hugh’s grip held it like tar. With a war cry, Hugh exploded and slammed the bull’s head down against the ground. Angered, stunned, the bull leaped forward – but didn’t get far. Hugh’s shoulders sank back, soaking up the bull’s strength and then driving it back out against the animal with greater force. In quick bursts Hugh thrust the bull back; its set hooves trenched the earth which could not withstand Hugh’s power. Trapped in superior hands – Hugh utterly controlled the head, defying the animal’s every twitch – the animal’s eyes rolled and its bellows rose in broken cries of disbelief. The crowd cheered to see this boy-man tame a bull bare-handed – so Hugh grinned and raised one fist into the air … and contained the bestial violence with one hand! The crowd’s deafening praise drowned out the bull’s chest-rumbling fury, its rippling shoulder and haunches quivering, shaking – impotent. Squealing with rage, the bull jabbed its free horn a few centimetres at Hugh. The boy brought his free fist down on the bull’s head. A crack like lightning splitting a tree shocked everyone to silence. Hugh struck the bull again, his knuckles smacking into the densest part between the horns. The bull’s knees buckled and drool looped out of its mouth. One more THWOKKK and the bull dropped flat. Shaking out his hand while the crowd cheered, Hugh walked around and stuck his arms under the bull’s belly. In one swift move he lifted the enormous beast up against his chest … and then his arms pressed it up over his head. He dropped it once against his own stony shoulders and the bull guttered an exhausted wheeze. He lifted the pull again and repeated the drop, the impact making the bull’s head loll. Finally Hugh lifted the bull over his head and carried it around the arena, giving everyone a close look before he SLAMMED it against the ground, its legs splayed out like petals. The impact clattered weapons in their racks, and some of the ladies lost their balance. The bull lay perfectly still so Hugh slapped its face several times to see if he had killed it with one fist. The bull opened its eyes, saw Hugh, licked Hugh’s hand and rolled over on its back, its enormous male-part exposed, red and glistening. Hugh held both hands over his head again like a champ. Under the crowd’s cheers I heard my master mutter, “That bull will never stud again.” “Young knave,” announced Houel once ordered was restored, “God and Fortune have placed you in the lowest estate, in which your earlier offenses to Sir Alain are unpardonable. And yet your manly vigor and dauntless courage indicate a nobler origin, one in which your outburst would not only be unexceptional, but possibly demanded as a point of honor. With your parentage unknown, we may never know the truth – except through your honorable and obedient actions henceforth. I bid you to mind your tongue and temper, obey my vassal Sir Geoff in all things, and your God-thewn limbs may one day raise you to an estate commensurate with your valor.” The Count then turned to the events planned for after noon dinner, but my eyes were drawn to his left arm, which had disappeared behind his back. It appeared to be rhythmically twisting back and forth – or rather, in and out – as he spoke of Hugh. I doubt anyone else noticed – all eyes remained on the smiling hero, his cowed bull; Hugh’s innocent freckles belied a ferocity lurking underneath. I had to see to my master’s horse. Hugh led me to the stable, saying eagerly, “You need to clean the hooves, right?” he asked me. Before I could so much as unstrap the saddle, Hugh ducked underneath the stallion and lifted him over his head – this after so many exertions already! The horse panicked at first, but Hugh’s deep voice and commanding presence calmed it – I even saw the head of its maleness peeking out, as with the bull. My own trousers felt heavy and tight and I stood riveted before the column of living power before me. “Well, go on!” he said. “I’m hungry!” I grabbed a pick and indulged in cleaning each hoof without bending over – I barely had to move the stallion’s legs. When I indicated I was done – I had no voice – Hugh gently put the horse down and deftly unbuckled the tack, which he effortlessly carried, saddle in one hand and all the dressings in the other, to a bench and rack against the wall. When he came back, he asked if he could brush the animal instead. “I didn’t like hurting those horses before, or the bull,” he said sheepishly. “Something just came over me I can’t put into words – like when I’m hunting. I’m usually gentle here.” He wielded the brush like a pro, the stallion responding with shivers and affectionate nudges – one animal acknowledging the superior protection and care of another. I marveled, not for the first time, how some animals sense danger in his aroma, while others are soothed … and aroused. Hugh ate separately from the other boys, who swarmed around the young squire. The noble boy kept looking at Hugh with jealousy, but managed to captivate the other boys with tales of court love affairs and adventures. Only one boy looked our way … and he too looked jealous when he caught my eye. Hugh finished his portion of stew before I had barely begun, and fetched a bag full of preserved meats from his stash. The rough burlap had his name crudely embroidered on it, and while I finished my plate, the boy-man devoured several hunks of dried meat, teeth ripping the hard flesh apart with animal hunger. The morning’s excitement, and being both full and so near Hugh’s humid heat, made me long for a nap. But Hugh jumped up and dragged me with an iron grip out to watch the afternoon events. When prizes were awarded, everyone looked at Hugh as if they knew he deserved not only the top prize, but the whole array of jewelry. The winners too seemed abashed, even my master, who came in third overall and got a beautiful golden torque with three emeralds. I noted that, though decorative, it could fit his neck – but not Hugh’s. I had to attend my master at dinner and eat with the other boys, but when we were dismissed, I left them and went back to the stable. He brightened like dawn when he saw me – his new friend – and we went outside and sat on a stone in the cool evening. Without a word, he draped his heavy arm around my shoulders and I stiffened to support its weight. After watching the stars come out in companionable silence, he yawned like a lion and guided me to his lonely straw pallet, away from the boys on the other side of the animal stalls. Hugh dropped his trousers pulled off his loin cloth, sniffed it, nodded and put it back on. His virile member swung away like a pendulum – but most remarkably, it was utterly smooth. I had thought, given the maturity of his armpits, that he’d be woolly below as well – but that growth had not yet started, it seemed, no more than his beard. How poised between two worlds he seemed, striding them both like the Colossus of Rhodes. Unexpectedly, I felt fear sleeping next to a creature so powerful and, worried he might crush me in his sleep (or in a bear-hugging dream), I curled into a tight ball on the edge of the mat. The night turned frigid and a howling wind whipped around the stable. But Hugh burned like a fully-stoked furnace, his pale skin radiant. I heard him say, “Are you afraid of me too?” I rolled over and, shivering, told him, “I didn’t think I was, but suddenly I felt very tiny.” He looked hurt and said, “I never hurt little creatures. That would be terrible. I don’t even step on worms after it rains.” He extended his arm and I wormed closer, his heat like a heavy woolen blanket embracing me. My head was smaller than the pillow of his arm, not stony at all but firm and, in some way, compelling and safe. He saw the arch in my loincloth and looked around excitedly – “Did girls sneak in?” When he realized we were alone, he sighed and said, “Oh, you’re like Ralph. Ralph was my friend until the others turned him against me.” “Nothing could ever turn me against you!” I blurted out. “I would pledge myself to you as your vassal forever, here and now, if you could take me.” He giggled at the ridiculous thought but nestled happily against me. “You can touch them, if you want,” he said quietly. “I never used to like it when Ralph did it, but today it felt different – all those girls’ hands. I don’t know what I felt. I sure liked it though.” “You’ve never been with a girl?” I asked in amazement, assuming he’d plowed wide and deep. He shook his head. “My master told me the story of Samson, but the truth was, his hair was a symbol of the other thing that grows out of a man. And when he lay with Delilah, she took his essence – so he became weak, her weak slave.” I realized Geoff must have been afraid of what Hugh’s youthful exuberance might do to a tender girl – or grown woman, or sheep or cow. I said nothing and placed my hand on his belly, which ran beneath my fingers like hot bricks on a cooking hearth. I explored the heavy bulk beneath his smooth skin, not clench into stones but full of rumbling threat, rising and falling with his breath. It felt like a city street brought to life, the cobbles able to yield or harden at will. My hand crept up to where his chest rose up like an escarpment – though he lay flat on his back! – and spread like wings to either side. I could barely reach over his chest and rub the solid mound of his shoulder, and stroke the junction where his chest and arm came together like the stanchion of a rope bridge. He raised his forearm and drew my face in his humid armpit. Though I wasn’t nearly finished exploring his manly terrain, the heat and sweet pit-fumes and soft tickling hairs overwhelmed me and I shot my seed in several fierce spurts, my whole being jerking and one foot cramping up. I don’t know if he noticed, but he didn’t let me go – I think he’d already fallen asleep. My release, after the day’s events, left me empty and I too slept in his dark musky chamber. I awoke before dawn – Hugh was already at his chores. Duke Conan would be arriving this morning to begin the folkmoot (there’s quite a queue of gripers this time around, I hear), and the great entertainments would continue, including a troupe of acrobatic Prussian dwarves said to be astounding and funny. A post rider ripped by us and headed straight into the castle. Word went around that we were to assemble, and soon Count Houel mounted the rampart along with by Sir Geoff and the seneschal, an old man, called for everyone’s attention. “My esteemed brother-in-law, Conan Duke of Bretagne,” Houel announced, “shall arrive presently – yes, yay, quiet, quiet! – and he sends ahead not only his salutations – please, quiet! – but also a demand: William, Duke of Normandy, has taken Maine - yes, an outrage! – and our lord expects Normandy shall enter our lands as well, with or without invitation. Every able-bodied man of service age is to immediately prepare for a dress inspection with what weapons and armor he is able to supply, so that we may assess the state of our defense and prepare accordingly. We shall gather again an hour before dinner ready for war and our lord’s review.” He clapped his gauntlets and hell erupted as everyone leapt pall-mall to get home and dust/shine what rusty pieces of tin may decorate their mantels. The Bretons hadn’t seen much action in recent years other than border skirmishes here and there. Now local politics had now thrown Bretagne’s scent under William’s nose and he was chasing it down like the dog of war he is. For armor, the knaves generally tussled over left-overs and scraps from the smithies, but nothing fit Hugh. An older boy remembered an unusually stout squire many years ago who had left mail behind. It was out of style but I doubt anyone would notice that, if it fit. Hugh had to borrow a tunic from the blacksmith – he rarely wore a shirt of any sort. I spread tallow over the arms and shoulders of the borrowed tunic, trying not to linger in the all the rippling valleys and crests which thrummed like volcanos even while relaxed. I and three other boys then lowered the hauberk over his head. We could have restyled the hauberk, repositioning the giant belly links to Hugh’s shoulders where they were needed, but we hadn’t time. We jerked and yanked hung our entire weight off the armor, squeezing it around the outcroppings his his chest, shoulders and back. It hung loose halfway down his midsection and when he put down his arms, the sleeves didn’t quite reach the elbow. The coif fit fine over his head but was tight around his neck, and spread only partly as far over his upper torso as it was designed to. He started breathing fast in the constricting armor, the clinking links rattling with each breath oddly disturbing, if musical. He could barely move in any direction and looked as stiff as a giant wearing a doll’s costume. We watched in awe as the many war machines were wheeled out and lined up for demonstrations. Somehow, I thought Hugh more impressive than they. By the time Duke Conan arrived, all the pomp and ritual left us sweating in the sun, knees trembling from the weight of unaccustomed armor. A couple boys passed out, clattering to the ground, but Hugh looked fine – confined, sweatily pungeant, but unaffected by the heat. While reviewing us, Conan blinked several times when he came to Hugh. “You there, come forward,” Conan ordered. Hugh walked stiffly forward. “How can you fight? It looks like you can barely move.” Knowing he had erred in not previously providing Hugh with suitable armor in case of war – so rare was fighting in these parts – Geoff piped up and said, “He’s had a growth spurt recently and his armor is actually at the blacksmith’s for alterations--” Duke Conan silenced him, eyes glued to Hugh, and said, “I was speaking to the … boy.” He walked around Hugh, suppressing a sigh at the span from side to side, and front to back. He actually ran his fingers across Hugh’s upper back to test if this was some kind of prank. I don’t think he could tell where the steel stopped and Hugh began. Suspicious, perhaps, that beneath the tunic was steel casing of some kind – perhaps plated armor (Houel could hardly afford to fit his entire levy in plate – no one could), Conan came around and ordered Hugh to raise his arms. Then he cocked his ear, listening closely. Hugh raised his arms straight out the side. The links squirmed noisily as the hard surface below changed shape. The entire hauberk rode up several inches. “Now throw your arm back and bend it as if you were going to throw a spear.” Hugh got his arm half-way back when he got stuck. Conan exchanged a dark look with Count Houel and Hugh wiggled his torso, shifting several more belly inches up around his chest so he could move his arm all the way back. As he half-bent his arm, the links twisted and flattened around it. “Make a muscle,” Conan ordered. Hugh obliged. Hugh tightened his fist made his sinews expand, higher and wider. The mail exploded, shooting fragments of steel in both directions. The other warriors yelled and shielded themselves from the painful missiles. The Duke blinked and saw the pale reddened mound surmounting through the shattered mail, splitting the tunic as Hugh made it bigger … and bigger … and bigger still … and with a final straining grin, created two peaks and peppered us with several more links. Hugh looked eagerly at Conan for approval, but Conan simply stood there with his mouth open. So Hugh, thinking the Duke wanted to see more, held out his other arm and flexed it fully-extended. The chain mail tightened noisily while the meat of his back-arm jutted out … getting rounder … bigger … until it shamed the upper arms of most men and held the links at maximum tautness. His front-arm resembled rose in a long arch, trembling a moment against the links until they popped in the middle and ripped open, exposing the deep crevice between the two halves. Hugh then flexed his arm to match, possibly outdo, his other arm – and the mail and tunic obediently tore apart deep into the pit and over the dragon-claw undulations of his shoulder. He stood there, showing off his two beauties, and several women fainted. Female sighs and moans (or I should say, high-pitched sounds – not limited to females) sang through the assembly as he put his hands on his hips. At the same time, he moved his elbows out and widened his back in stages, left to right, left to right, so you could see his it from the front! The links chinked and jumped, the bottom rising higher and higher up his torso … and then Hugh bounced his chest muscles back and forth. Twisted steel shards blew off his chest and showered down on the crowd, often drawing blood. Even the Duke was not immune but nobody stopped him, watching him in rapt awe. Pulling his shoulders forward, he split the hauberk down the sides, tearing steel like old cloth. Strips of unhinged metal flowed off his body like oil. He kept on popping all his muscles until he reduced the tattered armor to old fringe hanging off the coif. For a moment, I felt a communal urge to spontaneously kneel. But Conan’s eyes shone avidly, and he clapped his hands together. He turned toward a pavilion set up for dinner and ordered, “Clear away the food and bring that banquet table up onto the dais. Right up there,” Conan pointed. As servants scurried, I heard him say to Houel, “I think we have a secret weapon against Normandy right here. I will test of his capacities.” Turning to Hugh, he intoned, “Young knave, come forward and show us your pith.” “Please, sire,” Hugh said, bowing and coloring deeply, “I’ve done enough lately, and it makes the other boys – they’re scared of me. I don’t want to scare people anymore.” “It’s not a request, boy!” Conan thundered. “You will do as commanded or face the consequences.” A nod from Geoff removed his objection and he nodded his obedience. Obviously the Duke hadn’t been informed about the bloodbath yesterday’s “consequences” turned into. It took four straining, huffing servants to trundle over the enormous oak-plank table over the uneven ground. While they struggled with the empty table, Hugh pulled off the coif, his arm nearly pressing against his face, and stripped off the remnants of mail and tunic. A flock of girls surrounded him, rubbing shreds of tallow-covered tunic into his white, perfect skin with a fervid devotion that would make the saints jealous. Others caressed his chest and several explored his back. Three or four of them gripped his arms and he suddenly raised them to his sides, the girls hanging off like pennants and giggling with feverish delight. He showed off how his arms charged shape, raising and lowering the girls with only the granite peaks. They swung back and forth but he stood solid as a Maypole. A couple dropped to caress his legs through the boar hides but that alarmed the ancient seneschal, who hobbled over with a loud bell and shooed them all away. The table arrived at the said, but the servants were too exhausted to lift it up the step, so four fresh servants came and heaved, fumbling, with all their might. Duke Conan grinned and commanded, “Everyone - remove your armor and pile it onto the table!” Geoff sent the dwarf troupe over to help, and as boys helped free their masters and shucked their own hauberks, the dwarves made a clever show of passing it along and, climbing upon each other’s shoulders, layering the mail and helmets with exaggerated artistry. The boards of the platform groaned and popped as the weight increased, and increased further. Just when I thought I heard the table complain as well, Conan called a halt, and ordered two goblets to be filled with wine and set at either end of the table. Reaching into a pocket inside his sleeve, Conan pulled out a small cross, gold with garnets and pearls. “If young … young …” (a servant whispered to him) “young knave Hugh can lift this table into the air without spilling so much as a drop of wine from either goblet, I will entrust his master with this, my own devotional cross, to secure his education and his future needs.” A collective gasp went up – knaves were not allowed to own gold. To have a small treasure in trust for the future was unheard of. Conan either doubted Hugh could combine vigor with dexterity and endurance … or he prayed for it with all his soul. Geoff caught Hugh’s shoulder and whispered, “Remember – when you move things quickly then stop, anything not tied down will keep moving. Slow and steady.” I could see Hugh reining his enthusiasm by the set of his jaw. He leapt onto the dais from a stand and surveyed he table from various angles. The platform cricked underneath Hugh’s feet as he circled – the links of armor tinkled and flared in the sun. His additional weight severely stressed a dais constructed to hold a dozen men. The table sported a pair of stout columns carved with spiraling grooves at each end, braced by an inconvenient trestle running the nearly three-metre length of the bankette. And undulating terrain of steel rose in layers above his head. The goblets were nearly brimful. The trestle would get caught between his legs if he straddled it – he’d never get it all the way. I saw now Conan’s strategy – not simply testing Hugh’s brawn, but his strategic thinking and adaptability. And any solution would require more than simple pith. He went around to the back so all we could see was Hugh’s bent, boar-hide covered legs under the table – the armor pile fully obscured him. He squatted and extended his arms at angles underneath. Then he straightened his legs: and the table rose steadily off the platform. Cries of awe and disbelief rifled through the crowd. The platform sank beneath his feet, the wood barking loudly. Widening his stance, Hugh seemed to drop his shoulders and press up from underneath – the towering steel swayed and flashed in the sun. He edged one foot in front of the other, boards sagging loudly from the concentrated weight. Finally, the bottom of his chest-shelf caught against the trestle. He took several deep breaths while everyone else held theirs. In one smooth movement, he powered the creaking table out and up into the air, slipped his head underneath it and shifting his hands to align with the corners for stability. A loud POPPPP! burst from the platform, which bounced dangerously beneath him. One of the builders caught his attention with a glinting knife, and pointed out where the joists were. With a grateful smile (me: jealous), Hugh slowly spread his legs until they rested on the cross-supports. Thicker trusses protested at such punishment – when it was covered with chairs and people, the platform had been silent, solid as the earth – but they took the stress. He whipped his back leg forward and the swirl of interlocking sinews that rose from his waist and twisted around each other to brace the expanse of his upper torso made the carved pillars at the table’s ends look puny. Plus, how such a narrow, flat and tightly-coiled abdomen could rise and moor the broad clustered beef that anchored his oak-branch arms … it defied belief. No blubbery “strongman” rival such power, such beauty. Sweat trickled down the gullies and trenches of his man-flesh, and his groiny-salted scent wafted insensibly through the crowd. Men stirred unwittingly, uncomfortably, some angrily, while girls and women both undulated, their own bodies responding to Hugh’s proximity by lubricating their gyrations and stirring their desires. I felt my own ass and cock discharge an oily moisture as I wiped drool off my chin. Hugh turned his hands backwards and pressed the table high. The mountains of armor shifted slightly but the tremoring goblets stayed dry. As the trestle scraped against his belly – I half-expected to see shavings fall away as Hugh’s serrations carved the wood as it rose. But of course, the ladies had massaged enough cow fat into his skin that it slid easily past them. With his arms extending above his head, his chest bulged out so far out that Hugh pressed his his chin against the top of one to brace his neck. It did not dent. With a final grunt, he thrust and locked his elbows, the bole-thick knotted arms fitting into his shoulder and chest musculature like a complex war machine. The trestle caught on his overhanging chest and bent like a bow in that final thrust – I dug my nails into my legs, afraid the wood would crack. But the squawking wood held and a cheer went up all around. All except Conan, who’s intent face sweated as profusely as Hugh’s, and whose hips jerked violently, his entire body rigid. But Hugh wasn’t done defying our imaginations. Carefully, Hugh stepped to the end of the dais and dropped down onto the first step, bending his arms to keep the table level as he descended. The stair steps squeaked until he got nearly to the bottom, when one snapped with a BANG! Everyone jumped and yelled in fear for him. But Hugh took it in stride, smoothly following the drop while scrunching his body to keep the table level. He dropped his other foot onto the ground, and walked through the last, splintering steps and risers as if they were made of straw. He carried the table directly to Conan himself. Tension gripped the crowd – what was he going to do? For a moment, I felt a flash of panic - he would hurl the table and its contents onto the Duke and pronounce himself King, defying all challengers. I even saw Conan flinch, his guards fidgeting between the call of duty and the sudden will to flee. But Hugh merely lowered the table back down so that it hovered above the ground, and turned it sideways so Conan could observe, and remove, the first unspilled goblet without having to move himself. Then he kept turning, showing Conan and the audience the rippling contours of this back, which tremored in a rapid tattoo from the strain but never flagged from their labors. My eyes were drawn to the perfect globes capping his hide-clad legs - I wanted to grab them and pull him against me – or hang on while he pressed himself into me. But I shook those thoughts out of my head. Hugh stopped again so Conan could take the second goblet and verify that not a drop had spilled from it either. The he completed his circle and, his arms and shoulders beginning to quiver, he lowered the table to the ground as if presenting it as a gift to his lord. Hugh came around, issuing a hot wind of deep breaths and looking as though he could defy Samson and Hercules together. He dropped down on one knee before Conan, his head sinking beneath the rising plateaus of his back. Hugh could barely control his quavering musculature as he recovered from the punishing victory – he vibrated with effort and stilled himself, as he had the bull. In a cracked, hollow voice, Conan said, “Riiii--” He coughed drily, drank half a goblet down and sputtered, half-choking. With wine staining his chin, he said in a tight voice, “Rise, s- … m-my boy. Where is your m-m-master?” Geoff stepped forward, beaming with pride and relief. Conan gave Geoff the golden jeweled cross, and made him swear an oath on the blood of the Savior that that treasure should be used only to secure a future fit for man who will doubtless perform feats of great renown in the service of his lord and land. Again he crowd cheered and Hugh disappeared beneath a roiling female sea. Water, oil, food passed hand to hand through the crowd to care for him where he knelt, and Conan, feeling singularly ignored, stepped over the Houel and called Geoff and Alain to them. “I had thought to test your war machines against one of the menhirs in that field over there – but I think that, once he has fed and rested, we should test them against young Hugh. That will give us a greater idea of how we could deploy him against the machines of our enemies.” Geoff clearly wanted to protest – both the test and the “use” of Hugh in place of a giant rock simply went too far. But it was not his place, and turned away and prepared to speak with Hugh about what he still must do to fully earn the jeweled cross. Myself, I felt Hugh would love dominating the biggest, mightiest mechanisms created by man – if he were fresh. The last few days, he expended more puissance than a dozen or more grown men. Any failure due to fatigue could make him very angry. And I’d seen him angry – Hugh nearly killed an armored knight with one controlled half-punch through his shield. Even a days’ delay would restore him sufficiently. Worried for him, and the rest of us, I tried to tote up how many men would have to pool their strength to accomplish Hugh’s many feats – the horses followed by the bull, then lifting a horse, then chores chores chores; and chores the next morning before bursting armor and slowly lifting a weight that nearly destroyed the dais he stood on. I could see men falling in exhausting, others rushing to sustain an enterprise for which Hugh required no assistance. I felt dizzy – such potency in one boy-man violated every sense of reason and nature. It was a breach in the world, some supremacy stepping down from the world beyond and stretching human belief to its breaking point. I remembered Jacob had wrestled with an angel, and held it helpless in his arms for three solid days before the angel was able to treacherously injure Jacob’s hip, and escape ignominiously the patriarch’s iron grasp. If men have lived before who could dominate even the angels of God, then perhaps such a man could exist again – not a pagan mythical Hercules, but real man, created by God … perhaps to test our faith. See if we would worship the miracle worker or the one true God who made him. I prayed for guidance through this confusion … but my hands weren’t the only part of me pointing towards heaven. “Jealous?” Alain said, coming up behind me, making me jump. “Ah! Sir, uh, n-no…” I stuttered. He gently cuffed my head and gestured to where Hugh had moved to a couch and was being fed and massaged (or groped) by a hundred hands. “Someday you’ll have the girls pawing over you too,” he told me. “But I’m afraid today, no man here can compete with this shining prodigy.” Relief flooded me – he never suspected who I was jealous of…. Mid-afternoon, people stretching from naps re-assembled for the siege-engine demonstration. The first to be wheeled forward was a new battering ram. “In battle,” Geoff explained, “the roof would be covered with wet hides. Thirty metres long, it weighs over a tonne thanks to the iron head. We can fit thirty men on each side.” “That doesn’t look like a ram to me,” Conan said, peering at the head. “It looks like … a fist.” Houel glowed with pride. “That was my innovation. It’s more frightening, isn’t it? Like the fist of God knocking on the door.” Conan rolled his eyes and said sourly, “I think if Hugh stands on that rise over there, he’ll be in a position to test this … fingered thing.” While the engine was wheeled into place, Hugh eagerly ran over and put his hands on his hips. The shadows his wide shoulders and prominent chest cast over his stomach made the cobbles look truly like a stone wall … except that, while he waited, Hugh flexed and relaxed the individual cobbles and rolled his stomach like sea swells. Stone walls can’t do that. Geoff instructed the soldiers, “Let’s start slow – just you ten.” They positions and began swinging the chains faster, and faster, and faster. The heavy SWOOOOOSH through the air conveyed the speed and weight of the ram and for a moment, I seriously feared for Hugh: that ram could knock a bull out more efficiently than Hugh had. It could kill the bull at one blow. Had Hugh met his match? Soldiers swiftly pulled the brakes away while others shove and the machine lurched forward with its thick capped member extending obscenely. An ear-splitting SMAKKKKK! made us wince as the iron fist struck Hugh dead center in his belly. Hugh flew off his feet and the machine lurched backward, shoulders yelling from the shock that rattled their arms. Hugh landed on his shield-tough back several metres away and rutted the turf landing. He immediately sat up and waved he was unhurt, shaking his golden curls to clear his head. The soldiers however hobbled off the platform, gripping their forearms in each hand, faced carved in pain. “That was fun!” Hugh laughed before leaping straight up onto his feet. His stomach blazed angry scarlet beneath his pale freckled chest. He mock-punched himself and clowned like it really hurt, but then he grinned and, stretching side to side and back and forward, assumed his stance for round two. The crowd bubbled with murmuring like a pot nearing the boil – particularly on the ladies’ side. The men gave each other dirty looks at how openly their women displayed such rampant desires – an impotent rage, given their rival. Two dozen new soldiers replaced the first crew and exchanged nervous glances. Once again, the chains swung back and forth, gathering force. It seemed to gather the crowd as well – people swayed back and forth in rhythm, their excitement building along with the ram’s speed. They unleashed the engine with a violent rush and I hid behind my hands. A thunderclap braced the air as Hugh flew higher and faster and farther than before. The log shuddered to an astonished stop and many of the soldiers screamed and fell to the floor from an impact their joints weren’t designed to sustain. Hugh cut a trench through the field and he sank from view. Yet he hooted merrily and we knew that the ram had failed to hurt him again. Yet Conan frowned – I don’t think he expected Hugh to sail into the air, however unhurt he may be. Had he imagined an impossible spectacle? Had he hoped to insert Hugh between a ram and a besieged gate in the hopes of protecting the fortress with Hugh’s stronger build? Clearly that wouldn’t work. I looked at Geoff, who wore the same worried look as my master: an unhappy lord is more dangerous than any war engine. Yet I saw clearly what Conan overlooked: a ram’s force is transferred into the gate or wall, which cracks and weakens as that force flows through it. Hugh did not absorb that force – he repelled it. That’s why the shock surprised the soldiers and why the ram wobbled backwards. It was that repulsion, force being echoed away from Hugh, that propulsed him through the air. A gate made of such material would be impregnable. Hugh alone possessed such material. Again, I shivered, thinking of a living man who could harden himself beyond any other rock or metal in creation. A living man who let me touch him. Cheers and guffs of awe rose from the crowd as Hugh marched back to the frustrated machine, clods of soil falling off the harder bedrock of his back. Geoff rushed over, whispering urgently to him - Hugh smiled like the sun and nodded happily. The soldiers looked frightened. And this time, the ram was fully crowded with men. The crowd mirrored the swinging ram with their bodies, thrusting themselves forward and back in unwitting unison and urging some maximum test which could release their pent-up excitement. The huge log sliced through the air with a deepening WHOOOSH that beat fast and faster until the moment of its release: it sped forward and Hugh unexpectedly leaped at the iron head with his chest. The KKRRRAKKKKK! rang like a church bell breaking apart. Hugh dropped straight down while the entire engine bounce swiftly away from him, the men behind it jumping out of the way and the rowers flying off the sides. Hugh didn’t move. A frozen silence held the crowd until, as a single being, it raced forward. Hugh looked up and sucked in a mighty draught of air, shook his head and looked around, blinking. The crowd stopped, as if the living thing might become a dragon or griffin. A stunned look clouded his eyes – then they focused on the engine rolling to a slow stop, listed to the side where something broke, and all the men crawling away in pain. He remained crouching, catching his wind. Conan himself inspected the state of the ram. A split ran the entire length of the log – it slumped unevenly in its chain sling. Even more amazing, the top two “knuckles” of the fist had flattened slightly, deformed to the sides. “That’s solid iron,” Geoff said, mouth gaping. He turned back to Hugh. Some soldiers were helping him to his feet – he was so heavy it took three to a side and one in back, and they braced their legs jointly against him like buttresses until he steadied himself. He kept jerking his head, the death-knell of the fist still ringing. Geoff kept waving his fingers in front of Hugh’s eyes but the boy batted them gently away and said, in a firm voice I hadn’t heard him use before, “I’m done with having things run into me for a couple of days.” “The trebuchet is next,” Geoff said worriedly. “Shall I--” Hugh shook his head again with a sly grin. “I have different plans for it.” Geoff stepped back, momentarily alarmed by the forthright assurance Hugh now assumed. He walked around in circles, stretching and massaging his crimson chest. I pined to do it for him … and would have done, in front of everyone, had my master not sent me on an errand. His order felt like a dagger in my stomach. I ran quickly, gave a dispatch to a courier, and by the time I got back, the battered-ram had been trundled away and the trebuchet wheeled forward. Two men on each side grunted as they turned the wheels that ran the tackle and slowly raised the mass of iron-bound oak blocks into the air. Hugh wasted no time. “What are we going to do to this?” Conan asked eagerly. “You’ll see,” Hugh answered arrogantly - which seemed to excite Conan rather than offend him. Conan stepped back as Hugh walked behind it, put one foot on the arm resting on the ground, and signaled the drop. The weight crashed to the platform and Hugh roared like a bear as he bore down with his foot. A legging seam burst open, exposing a bovine thigh – and the pivot rod cracked. The entire beam smashed through the machine with an explosion of splinters. Hugh picked up the end and wrested it free, jostling and battering the entire machine. He placed the end of the arm across his shoulders behind his neck and, draping his outside arm over the top, raised the entire thing up parallel to the ground. Then he wrapped his other arm over it . . . snorted like a bull . . . and pulled. His back opened wide like angel wings, his stomach muscles meshed like the gears of the apparatus itself, and his arms filled every space with their compressed, pulsing meat. We heard him breathing heavily in the silence. Hugh’s face contorted in angry concentration, and his elbows dipped. The short length behind his neck actually bent, issuing a CREEEAAAK SNIK-SNIK-SNIK SNIK SNIK FRACCCKK! The heavy bar split open like a monster’s toothy maw. His outside arm pulled and then twisted the broken as Hugh broken bole until it tore away. He pulled more of the bar across his implacable back. One deep breath and again his face strained, pitting the obdurate ridges of his vein-studded neck. His arms too snaked with blue veins nearly tearing through his buttery red-splotched skin. The solid oak held out as long as it could until Hugh’s arms compelled it to shiver, quake and surrender. He kept going, snapping the bar into pieces without rest, his breathing hoarse, his tender boy’s face a mask of resolute destruction. By the time he fractured the last bit, his grimace bore a terrifying resemblance to some fairy-tale demon. Slivers and chips of wood dusted his hair and body from oak exploding under unbearable pressure. Beside him, a stack of logs ready for the fire. “Magnificent!” Conan declared, unable or unwilling to stop the gushing females who pawed his dauntless, bloated arms and reverently dusted splinters from the many crevices in his back and lodged in his hair. I got a tingling sensation in my groin that he’d tear the engine apart with his bare hands with so much admiration – and indeed, he jumped onto the counter-weight and, clinging to a cross-bar with his toes, grabbed an iron strap in each hand and pulled. The iron bent up a bit but stopped. Hugh jerked them hard and broke them free, happily bending them up and back. He dropped to the ground, dragging the tortured iron with him. Then, inspired, he dragged the freed lengths toward each other and began wrapping them around each other in a giant knot. Then he yanked two fresh sections loose, working the cold metal like it was toughened leather. Showing off, he held an arm rigid and folded the metal back over itself by simply turning his wrist, zig-zagging in with tight switchbacks. At the same time, his other arm rippled as it twisted the flat iron into a spiral. Conan coughed loudly and Hugh turned, glowing in the sun and gleaming with sweat. He had saved the most trying test for last. Hugh slugged down goblets of water and gnawed on some fragrant apples, which mixed a sweetness into his rapturous he-sweat as secretions from different body areas ran and mingling together. “In war, we have not time to rest, no time for refreshment,” Conan declared. “When our enemies lay siege to our cities and hurl boulders into our walls and through our houses, how shall we respond? I want to crush them – literally.” He turned to Hugh, his bony arm outstretched toward the sacred grove. “These standing stones have weathered every winter, every storm, since time immemorial. Centuries of raging wars have neither injured nor moved them. Some say they were planted in the time before men, by Titans or Giants. Some say only Druid magic could have raised and sunk them into the fields where they mystify us to this day. Surely no mortal men could have moved such behemoths. “Young Hugh, your task is to do what neither man nor nature has ever done before you. Uproot one of those ancient monuments so it may be used to smash our enemies and their war machines. You may choose your victim – but your choice will be noted.” Conan led the way; a crowd of men tried to raise and carry Hugh on their shoulders, but the ponderous hulk proved impossible to lift and manage, so they simply surged around him like a pack of hunting dogs. Hugh scooped up the nearest two damsels and carried them like bouquets of flowers in the crook of each arm. Their dainty hands tried to squeeze the unyielding marble of those arms, twisting their hips as they did so. None of our stones are as big as the ones up north, but the field still looks strikes me as a giants’ graveyard. Hugh naturally went to the largest one, shoulder-height but a little wider than he. I wondered which weighed more, and nearly laughed out loud at the absurdity – an absurdity only to someone who had never met Hugh. While Hugh walked around the stone, inspecting clefts and lichen, Conan whispered to Houel, “even if he can only loosen it, we should be able to pull it free with a team of oxen. And he could easily build a gigantic trebuchet to launch these stones. Perhaps even a conveyance to move to them.” I shuddered. Hugh carried the focused, appraising air of a land agent, factoring dimensions, materials and weights that hobbled the imagination. Without ceremony, he dug his feet in and fell upon the weathered stone, oppressing it with focused forces beyond anything nature herself could muster. After so many efforts, Hugh drew from a deep well of virility that seemed never to run dry. The crowd tensed along with him as we waited for the monolith to give. No one doubted it could outlast the onslaught of Hugh. Never relenting the pressure he built up, Hugh managed to slip his hands, his shoulders, his legs into different positions, seeking a stronger purchase, groping with his senses toward the spot already growing weak under his duress. Worrying the monument from every angle, wearing out its grip on the earth, Hugh bullied the half-buried boulder until he found the place where Creation would buckle beneath his will A breeze ruffled through the grass … but when it passed, the grass still shivered. “Look!” I pointed. As every eye turned away from the hero and toward the ground, it humped and split. The stone listed slightly into the breach and several people fainted along with it. Hugh didn’t let up but churched the ground behind him plowing into the monolith. A hump broke upward between his legs as Hugh silently commanded the monument to lie prostrate before him. Conan choked as the yawning field disgorged waves of loam displaced by the foot of the stone being impelled up into the light. Hugh stepped back for the first time, shaking his throbbing limbs so the muscles tossed back and forth like small animals. He spent a few seconds catching his breath, and the swung himself under the leaning side, grappled for a hold, and pulled with a heavy grunt. The earth vomited in distress as Hugh dragged the stone towards the level and mashed its face toward his feet. The menhir listed drunkenly now but something deep intruded on his progress and held the stone. Hugh vigorously tugged and wiggled the tonnage, breaking the obstruction and relinquishing its hold on the monolith once again. Hugh’s arms engorged in undulating ridges, spurs and peaks. His shoulders bulged nearly as big as his head, their carved fingers digging like claws onto his arms and back. His concave belly shifted right and left, directing dominance from his legs into his arms and rippling around his frame like wind-blown sheaves of wheat. Finally, with one crippling shove, Hugh wrenched the monolith free of the earth, crammed its face into the dirt as the entombed end blasted through in an eruption of soil and small rocks. When I shook the grit out of my eyes, I could barely believe what I saw – nearly as much had been buried as stuck up from the earth. It was twice as big as it had looked, the unearthed portion was dark and wet, with clumps of mud sticking to it like the lichen huddled all over the exposed half. Nearly twice as big as Hugh, it seemed impossible to move it any further, except – maybe – to roll it down a hill (were the ground not flat). Wasting no time, Hugh walked around the far side, knelt and reached one arm over the width of the fallen warrior of time. With a HUP and a HRRRGGGGHH, Hugh leaned backward, bending like a bow. His stomach clenched in sharp relief and long rods rippled in his extended forearm. The rock rose a few centimeters but then fell back into the turf. Undeterred, Hugh nearly bounced it back up into the air – but this time, the side closest to him slipped and fell. The fact that he could lift it at all froze everyone in a tableau of wonder. He wrapped his rock-strewn arms around it and pulled, his neck bulging and face purple, but only managed to lever it off the ground and shift it sideways a bit, farther away from its empty grave. He reached underneath and drove his legs down as he raised the end as far as his knees, kneading the ground to press an advantage – but again the weight proved too much, and he had to drop it. He called for water and wide-eyed, trembling girls brought him several bowls, along with fruit and a hunk of roasted beef. He gorged himself, allowing the girls to lick the grease off his fingers. He rubbed them against the surface of the stone, peeling off layer of flint and coating them with dust. He walked around to the middle and tried to raise it laterally – it hinged up half a metre or more before it slipped free. Hugh’s face clouded with annoyance and I feared his angry fist might turn it into more manageable pieces – but he redirected his impatience into his arms. Reaching one arm over the top, he grunted and craned it a metre into the air – several people experienced spasms of a certain kind – and held it teetering while he tried to shift the weight for the next stage. But the tonnage resisted his power and bobbed toward the earth. With a strangled scream, Hugh stopped it for a moment – held it – but had to let it go. Setting his feet farther apart, he heaved yet again, grappled the monolith higher, his lower arm bursting its skin as it braced the burden, dragged his shoulders back and, staggering once, wrestled it onto thighs – where it balanced, its immensity sinking him into the soil. Hugh took three breaths, rocking back and forth with each one, then leaned further back and levitated the stone onto his chest, tottering around as the menhir fought his dominance. He sidled to a halt and paused a moment, dwarfing mass trapped by his inexorable arms. His face screwed tight with strain, Hugh pressed the under arm up, its sinews bunching and trembling, while the arm over the top actually flipped the rock over – a move that almost went wrong, had his legs not danced and buttressed him to stop it. Then his legs began to shake violently and he sank beneath the stone which pressed against his face. The crowd burst with burbling concern that he might be smashed under the giant rock, his hubris leading to a predictable end – and I was afraid if it brought him to his knees, he’d but unable to continue. But … it didn’t. He didn’t kneel. He waddled toward stonier ground, looking like an ant carrying not a crumb but the entire loaf. Hugh’s knees began knocking as he fought to stand, the perfect globes of his ass quivering in time – but he worked his hands around to the underside even as he fought to discipline his rebelling limbs. Taking advantage of what inertia he’d created, Hugh wasted no time resting but pressed the rock above him – his body near parallel to the ground. Barking ferocious groans I could feel in my breastbone, he manipulated the granite giant up as he straightened his back and fought mightily against his own shaking arms. With hoarse, whistling war-cry, the god-man-boy straightened up and pressed the menhir up until his elbows locked and framed his terrible visage. He continued bellowing as he trapped the stone mountain in the air above him, mocking its desire to reunite with the earth. He lurched several steps before stopping at the end of the softer ground and sought Conan – rooting the Duke to the spot with his eyes. He stayed that way until Conan buckled at his hips and dropped his mouth in something like awe. With a snarl, Hugh then let it drop behind him and flexed his bloated arms until the cramping made him shake them out. Once more the crowd poured over him, massaging and rubbing him – a crush Hugh might not have been able to sustain had not circumstances turned against us. His sweet odor took on a pungeant manly stink, which the air caught and carried back into the forest. Before long, a grisly roar answered Hugh’s call from the forest. My master said to Geoff, “I thought you said Hugh had scared off all the predatory animals.” “He has,” Geoff replied. “There must be a migration.” “Bears don’t migrate,” Alain said, “And that was a very angry bear. Again, a mere whiff of Hugh’s scent has driven some beast to fury.” We got a first glimpse of the foaming, shambling beast, and Geoff said with restrained panic, “Not fury, but madness,” Geoff concluded. “That bear is mad. Its bite is deadly – even a scratch can afflict a man with madness.” People stampeded for the city walls once the bear blundered sideways out of the grove and shook deadly froth from its drooling maw. Despite being clearly spent, Hugh immediately strode to face the monster – and we all felt riveted by the same thoughts – if he were too exhausted, Hugh would be no match for the bear – killed or, worse, infected. A rabid Hugh could lay waste to the entire county. The afflicted are routinely strangled before the madness takes hold, but who, or what, could constrict Hugh’s throat? The archers ran back to the castle to fetch weapons but Hugh advanced alone. “No! Hugh, I forbid it!” Geoff ordered, but Hugh responded only to a higher calling, his fatigue replaced by renewed vigor. He ripped the shredded remains of his leggings and codpiece and tore away even his undercloth, one naked beast facing another. Women tried to turn away and close their eyes, but they had lost the will to resist the sight of Hugh's golden glory. Palming two large stones, he bounced their weight – likely as much as a strong man could struggle up to his chest – and then hurled first one, then the other, in quick succession, his arms like trebuchets – only more powerful. The bear fell, struck on the head and shoulder … but rose up on two legs, now truly angry. Slinging ropes of poisonous slobber across the field, it roared and fell clumsily to all fours, lighting into a lopsided charge on legs it seemed unable to fully control. As if it were under the spell of a sorcerer’s apprentice. Hugh ranged from side to side but the bear turned and faced him, always advancing. The hero crouched on titanic legs and launched himself into the air, rising for several metres and sailing over the bear like a bird of prey. The animal stood and swatted at him but Hugh flew too far and too fast, causing the unsteady creature to fall onto its back. As it struggled back to its feet, it turned so Hugh could leap and plant himself like a spear onto its vast shaggy back. Hugh tried to wrap his arms around the giant’s chest but could barely reach – his fingers touched but couldn’t grip. The bear roared and shook violently, but Hugh’s fingers pierced the dense fur and his legs clamped over its waist. Then Hugh shook back. Savagely throwing his body from side to side, Hugh forced the bear to stumble sideways several paces before it plant its claws and hold onto the ground. He shook the bear again but it lowered itself to the ground – so Hugh threw his shoulders back with a strained grimace. And overcoming the bear’s fury, bent its spine back and its forelegs off the ground. Hugh cinched his arms and legs – the bear bellowed in pain and confusion, outmuscled by something small yet heavy and brutally irresistible. Hugh shook the bear again until its head wove back and forth, and then he arched his back and slammed that head into the ground. A look appeared in the bear’s crazed eyes – a moment of clarity, a primitive instinct for escape. The beast fought against Hugh’s strength with the renewed energies of something now fighting for its life. As Hugh’s shoulders tensed, prying the bear’s up again, it fought him, bucking and shaking, matching him strength for strength. Feeling the iron spine defy him, Hugh squeezed until the bear screamed. Every move Hugh made in directing the bear one way, the bear countered, twisting and scratching the other way. Hugh’s face contorted as his arms labored against the sturdy ribs, his fingers grappling for a link. The bear writhed violently but Hugh closed his eyes and with a hissing sound, linked his middle fingers. The beast wore stark fear on its face, its chest compressed, its hips being wrench by the horrible contortions of Hugh’s legs. I held my breath – I couldn’t tell what Hugh was trying to do, besides hang on. Slowly, by pitching his back fiercely, Hugh guided the bear to the stone he had just conquered. His eyes sharpened frightfully, and with his teeth bared and an almost-evil smile, he arched his back again and clumped the bear forward with his own indomitable torso. With claws clutching helplessly at the soil, the bear realized – as much as it could – it was losing. When Hugh coerced his captive abreast of his trophy, he flexed his entire body, lifting the bear off the ground and slamming it back down. He did it again, and again, each time gaining a greater bounce until with clenched grunt, Hugh actually flipped himself onto his back on the stone’s surface, the quarter-tonne bulk pronged above him. The animal’s legs waved in the air but Hugh’s back spread out beneath him, bracing against each terrorized thrust of the mindless brute. The boy-man had even crushed its roar down to a steady wheezing moan frothed out with its spittle. Hugh’s legs trapped the bear’s hind limbs and pulled them out and away, immobilizing them. He arched up onto his shoulders and bent that iron spine – and squeezed. Hugh shook the bear to the left and clamped his hands more tightly to its chest. He jarred it to the right and a sickening pop came out of the bear’s lower quarters. The wheeze now carried a bone-chilling whine of fear. Hugh tensed ferociously trembling with impossible effort, bending the bear's steely ribs in on themselves. Hugh’s rising growls drowned out the animal’s eerie whistling. Now gripping his wrists, he shrank the bear’s chest further through barbaric will. His arms, buried deep in the fur, rubbed slightly back and forth: their knots, harder than bone, fractured ribs. He rattled the bear like a doll, draining the dregs of its vitality with relentless determination. Its swimming forelegs slowed, and slowed further, and then merely waved as if blown by the wind. Once the bear’s legs stopped moving (though still twitching), Hugh’s legs straightened out, further disjointing its hind legs and hips. The trapped victim emitted a thin, high wail, its tongue lolled out of its mouth, a harsh gurgling sound coming with it. Hugh could have finished the bear off right there, but something terrible had been ignited in the man-boy’s chest – and further below. Hugh rolled off the stone and plopped the weakened beast onto the ground. Arching his own back, Hugh brought his legs forward and clamped them against the stove-in ribs. Pulling the bear backward again and trapping its lower torso with his own, Hugh gyrated up, his ass dimpling and clenching, his manroot thrusting through the densely matted fur. It seemed to pulse with every sharp crack echoing through the circle. His eyes feverish, the shocking obscenity of the tableau held everyone in a merciless grip. Hugh wrangled his arms up, never releasing their unbearable pressures, hands reaching for the animal's head. Gripping the rocklike skull, Hugh's chest rose like twin peaks as he stopped the bear's thrashing. His hands crept down, his bulbous forearms immobilizing the bear's head. The entire crowd buzzed with tension that ratcheted higher as Hugh linked his hands underneath its head. With a grim frown, Hugh straightened back up, fighting the bear's final desperate spasms. With a final choking splutter, the bear’s head rose in Hugh's puissant grip, its long long neck tremoring. Stretching. Tearing. Hugh’s invincible lance jousted with the arched neck, his hips slowly digging up and down. But the bear's neck was too long - even with the skull pressed into the valley of his chest, the neck did not break. He'd either have to be work his way backwards ... or ... My knees gave way weakly as Hugh's sculpted arms sprouted veins along their extreme curves. Hugh pushed the head up in a harrowing repeat of his menhir feat. A thin shrill shriek bubbled out of the gaping maw, big eyes suddenly blank with a resignation more terrible than its death throes. Hugh's elbows inched up, his hands rising to stomach-curdling wet PWOPP sounds. Hugh stretched the neck unnaturally longer even as the bear's tongue seemed to crawl out of its throat. Blood sprayed from tears in the victim’s hide, the skin rending in garish jagged slashes. Hugh grimaced as he grappled the bear's body down – down and away. Hugh pushed his arms towards the sky with renewed gristle. Through the ragged flaps of skin, I could see thick cables of muscle stretching and then rolling up into tight knots. Soon I could see the white bones floating like beads on a broken chain washed in red. His virile member erupted, spewing ropes of viscous pearlescence through the hot fur and into the ragged wounds. His legs gripped the body firmly, riding it with bucking hips and plowing himself violently against the dying beast. Finally, with a triumphant bellow that shook the stones themselves, Hugh extended his arms all the way up and sheared the bear's head off its jerking, dying torso. The torn neck fountained blood, mired with Hugh's own jetting essence streaming up through the coat like grappling ropes. Hugh’s seed-fountain continued even as the blood slowly ebbed, soaking the coat in his milky pith. He shuddered, his naked muscles rippling and drumming fleetly beneath his papery white skin, and making a final grunting cry, Hugh stubbed himself out in eye-flickering bliss. Hugh paused a moment, chest heaving with deep satisfaction, until the echoing pleasures slowly Faded. Shaking sense and awareness back into his golden-curled, blood and semen-caked head, carried the still-lethal skull, dripping blood and froth of Hugh, to the gaping pit that once housed a menhir, and dropped it in. He went back to the corpse, grabbed a loose hind-leg, and pulled it over to the grave, kicking it in. Then, in desperation or derision, I couldn’t tell, Hugh tugged the stone, bit by exhausted bit, until its immeasurable tonnes covered the tomb. Hugh turned and raised his fists over his head, his heavy arms bent and throbbing like the empurpled mast rising above his navel, shaking its own glistening fist. But only briefly - he sank down, hands on his knees his shoulders sinking and his back sagging. Then he was lost as cheering soldiers surrounded him and, in a joint effort, raised him to his feet and half-carried him away from the slung saliva and gore, to a grassy rise shaded by the setting sun. The women broke through the soldiers with kettles and bowls of cool and steaming water, shouldering them away like an invading army. Over their heads I heard him mutter “meat,” and platters passed hand to hand from the high table directly to him. Sating himself, he fell into a deep slumber, oblivious of the hands massaging oils into his muscles. Soon the jealous guards rallied and drove the women away, circling him and facing out to keep so many hungry eyes and hands at bay. Geoff had excused Hugh from the rest of his chores that afternoon, so after I finished mine and got something to eat, I returned to his pallet. He was fast asleep on his back, lying flat on his back with only a modest cloth around his loins. The air near him shimmered torridly, and sweat beaded on my forehead and under my arms. I quickly doffed my togs and draped myself over his mounded form. He stirred slightly, his barrel chest rising, but otherwise I may as well have been a light blanket. Arousal chases my fatigue away, and take advantage of last night’s offer and stretch my limbs, pressing my body against his muscles – firm yet pliable at rest, their density defied my penetrating fingers, but I could press and caress them, trace the expansive flesh as it narrows and gathers into steely tendons. His blood pulsed slowly through them, perfectly balancing his other humors and restoring his incalculable vitality. My own loin covering stirred as I rubbed against the serpent sleeping between the pillows of its generative nest. The serpent rose slightly, stirring waves through Hugh’s body which undulated and stretched in sleep. His mouth pursed and opened slightly and, overcome with desire, I gripped his upper arms and slid myself up onto his chest. My own member lay erect in the alley that ran down the center of his cobbled abdomen – it fit perfectly, caressed and massaged as those muscles rose and fell as he breathed. From the barrel-crest of his chest, I reached down and placed a daring kiss on his thick, languid lips. Still asleep, his mouth accepted mine, rubbing against my lips. I nuzzled the down around his chin and let my tongue slip out, seeking his. His tongue also sought mine and they caressed one another and explored each other’s hot, wet den. My own drool flowed strongly, lubricating our fun, and a distant, dreamy smile invited me to display greater passion. I sucked his lips and licked his teeth, and when I felt his hands land lightly on my ass, I shuddered in anticipation and a little fear: if he rolled over and didn’t wake up, could I support his weight or would I be crushed or suffocated by Hugh’s ponderous magnitude? I stretched my arms over his and wrapped my legs over his thighs, encouraging him to stay put but offering my nether orifice for his rising python. He gripped me tighter, so tightly I winced and bit his lip by mistake – his eyes opened drowsily and for a moment, we gazed at each other with his hands clasping hindside. Just then a sharp laugh startled us both (and several of the horses). Hugh raised his head as I turned and saw a buxom young maid with a startled look on her face. “You boys are incorrigible!” she said a little loudly. Hugh rose up on his elbows and sloughed me off to the side, where I adjusted my loin cloth and blazed bright red. She paid me no mind. “All rested, hero?” she said saucily, tugging coyly at the lace that held her bodice together. “How would you like a real woman to satisfy you. I promise it’ll be better than some smelly bear.” She spread her knees and pressed a palm into her skirt with an open mouth. Heat kindled in Hugh’s eyes and his groin snake bobbed up through the folds of his cloth. She walked backward toward a stack of hay bales in the shadows. Forgetting me, Hugh rose – like a mountain growing before my eyes, or a dragon taking off from its lair, his body simply kept going and going and going until he was up and around the corner. But Hugh stopped short, looking uncertain. “Come on,” she cooed. “No one will care. You’re a man now. You do what you want.” Hugh fidgeted against the cloth restraint binding his eagerness. “My master said I would grow weak if I did it. I don’t even, you know, do myself. Not as often as other boys.” “You’re no boy, and no man is your master,” she chided. “Not even the king can rival you. Besides, we all saw what you did to that bear. Are you weak now?” She threw a horseshoe, which he caught. Spreading the fingers of that one hand around the prongs but not taking his eyes off her, Hugh squeezed – and crushed the metal shoe as if it were clay, until it snapped in two. Yet he didn’t let it go – gathering both parts into his palm, he folded them in half – both at the same time – until the outmatched steel could bend no further and broke again. His clenched the pieces in his fist and mashed it again, his forearm filling with rocks that scrubbed against each other. A metallic tinkling seeped out between his white-knuckled fingers. When he opened his fist, shattered fragments of steel rained to the floor, unidentifiable as having ever been a forged horse shoe. “Guess not,” he replied with sheepish excitement. The maid had watched wide-eyed, bosom heaving and mouth opening and semi-closing in excitement of her own. Though she massaged both her breasts and released them, she stiffened and shivered as if fulfillment had ignited without any external stimulation. Her eyes hooded with breathless hunger. “Then, what are you waiting for?” she half-dared, half-begged him huskily. That was it. His loin cloth ripped around his vibrant erection has he flung it away and pulled her to him, immediately entering her. She gasped as his girth stretched her open more than ever before, but he didn’t rush to the finish line. Hugh’s natural instinct for lovemaking took over – building, teasing, pulling back, slowing down then racing, all the while withholding his essence. His manfunk wafted through the stable with a delirious mixture of wild musk and protective warmth. Her eyes rolled up into her head – however vigorously he slid in and out, he was gentler, more controlled – stronger – than any man she’d been with. And … he made her wetter than ever before. Mixed with the leakage from his powerful organ, they slid against each other like eels. She clutched at the hay behind her, her nipples like craters as another pleasure wave washed through her. Again, instinctively, Hugh let her subside and then whipped her up until the storm broke in her several times before he unleashed his own deluge. Hugh’s arm shot out and grabbed a shovel, the blade warping in his grip. He shot into her with such force she instantly came again, biting her lip to stay quiet. His ass dimpled and writhed for so long I realized I would get no sleep tonight – perhaps never again. My own midsection rocked as I spurted in envious sympathy. I massaged myself dry with my under cloth and was about to return to the pallet, when I saw it – he wasn’t pulling out. He was clearly still turgid. Still filling her. Still thrusting. She smiled hungrily, grabbing his ass and pulling herself against him. He slammed into her hard this time, again and again, jiggling her breasts and body, shattering her composure and driving her to wild abandon. She thrashed and ground herself against in rhythm against him, whipping her loosened hair from side to side and moaning gutterally like a cow in calving. In full control and awareness of their danger, Hugh smoothly grabbed a leather work glove and gently shoved it into her mouth. She chewed it like it was dinner. He came again, dimpling longer than before but sluicing in and out and spilling long tendrils of cock drool. I stayed crouching, hardening again and barely aware of the pain. And as I suspected, he didn’t quit. More like he was still getting warmed up. But the maid began to flag, endless pleasure addling her brain. She shuddered periodically, ranging between an empty smile and a tense incomprehension that only Hugh’s persistence could dismiss. Her sopping hair lay lank over her shoulders, her breathing hitching from his power and then siking into a heavy, coarse wheeze. He came a fourth time and she moaned in mindless pleasure and pain. His seed spurted down and ricocheted off his pendulous ball sac … as if she were full. For the first time, he pulled out completely, his knob painted her belly and breasts with his man-lime. A steady stream ran down her legs slowly, like freshly-rendered glue. His sword waved challengingly, throbbing with purple ardor. His exhales came fast and heavy and his red eyes burned with feverish intensity. For a moment, he wasn’t sure what to do but then, face enlivening, he lifted her into the air, spun her around and did what I had so longed for: took her bunghole like a rutting beast. The pain shocked her awake and she screamed into the glove. Her torso impulsively clenched around him but hadn’t the strength to expel the invader. Sliding her up and down on his breed shaft with one hand, he pulled out the glove stuck his fingers in her mouth, attacking her defenses on two fronts. Her panic retreated and as they joined into a single oscillating being, his body commanded hers to banish pain and feed greedily on pleasure alone. Obediently, her body obeyed and her tension fell away like the tattered remnants of her clothing. He bobbed her up and down endlessly before clenching his ass and releasing another eruption of manly lava. Feeling his own control fight for command against greedy, voluptuous gluttony, he wrapped one arm around a stud and squeezed. His arm crunched into the wood – splinters broke out around it. He squeezed pitilessly as the ecstasy of another tidal wave rolled out of him and utterly submerged her. Solid oak creaked and split loudly. Finally he eased down, left the poor oak post alone, and rested his back against a high stack of hay, holding her up with one hand and simply staying still. But staying within her. Not softening. Not at all. The crippled beam groaned as the weight of the roof shifted into its weakness. The groaning excited Hugh and he slowly began plumbing her for a sixth time. Something broke in my mind – a relaxation, an acceptance of such unbelievable strength and stamina. A kind of faith moved my heart that I never felt at mass. My body responded by releasing another white libation, globs of it billowing forth before the ecstacy could catch up – it rushed in late and quaked me to my soul, submitting my life to this thundering, earth-shaking deity before me. Hugh focused intently on her, careful not to bruise or injure her as he ground her back and forth in semi-circles. Her limbs flopped randomly, their motions aimless and simply sparking off stray bolts of joy her weaker frame could not contain. She shuddered again as another convulsion gripped her, and her seizure gripped him and undammed yet another flood of his virility into her guts. Not only the stream down her legs increase, now from two willsprings within her, but her belly began to bloat. Hugh looked as though this premature release – stimulated by her and not commanded by him – had cheated him. He stayed in and bucked her a little roughly, making her jaw chatter loosely, until he pasted her insides a seventh time. Ignoring how her rib cage expanded in his grip, Hugh plunged deeper with an urgency he hadn’t shown before. His bull-balls slapped the back of her ass as he chased the shimmering bliss he caught so easily again and again. His back stiffened and spread apart and the overflow of another cascade splattered his nutsack and thighs. Her eyes opened with bemused surprise as she belched and … smelled Hugh in it. The maid passed out completely and slumped on him, twitching and jerking like a dreaming dog. His face glowing with greed for a vein of gold that ran deeper and deeper into the mountain, he kept excavating for it. A series of short hard rams made her burp his salty musk, made her breasts flop along with her arms and nodding head. The hammering sped faster and faster until his cheeks became a blur. Then suddenly he stopped and mashed her down as if he were trying to snap his manhood off. But that prong stood up to him defiantly and rebuffed his efforts. Within the frenzy of his ninth fusillade, a heavenly smile pierced his face like a sunbeam after a storm eliciting a heavenly smile to spread across his face. The sun banished the storm and he slowed down to a steady strum. Pinning her against a wall of hay with only his horn of plenty, he put his hands on his hips and wiggled them, watching her bob like a puppet. Hugh didn’t like her leaving him alone like that - so he leaned forward, placing one fist on either side of the hay beside, and supported her with It while staring intently into her face. His presence penetrated her dazed mind and dragged her back to consciousness – while he stayed still, spreading and pulsing with her, her own grinding movement down below betrayed her return to paradise. He began slow rotations, lazy figure eights that hardened him until his balls hitched. Then, again, he became … perfectly … still…. But she shook with warring tensions and seized with unhinged rapture. He grinned with masterly hauteur and withheld himself until she scratched violently at him and seemed she’d shake herself apart if he did not feed her. Still he waited until her panting desperation opened her eyes – he locked them to his – and she seemed to wither and bloom at the same time within his gaze, her mind turning inside out beneath the fullness of his revelation. Still he waited. Still he grinned. Finally, drool spilled in rivulets out of her mouth, followed by a plaintive mewling bordering on despair. He nodded, slowly, over and over as he felt her identity disintegrate – and then he released the hounds of war. Her chest inflated from the inside, a strangled cry of incredulous surrender rose from her gaping mouth, and her breath, redolent of his salt, filled the air and made the horses rustle and neigh. His own fecund odor returning to him from inside her kept his demonic prick sharp as he tunneled even deeper into the mountain for that skein of gold. His muscles flinched - he had ridden himself raw – and now every motion exploded in his brain. A mere normal man would pull away, flee, his brain melting. But Hugh was made better. He carried her gingerly to a worktable, sweeping clean its surface with his arm, and laid her down. He stood upright so that the pressure bore down on his virility, and though it bounced her up a little, it soon settled down. Standing there, hands on his hips, his massive chest rising and sinking like storm billows on the open see, he defied every extreme sensation – he refused to withdraw, he would not pass out. Hugh willed every impulse into submission, and wrung the savor out of each moment. They could not gang up on him. They could not overcome his control. His chest rolled triumphantly as he disciplined his own rebellious passions and directed them to serve him one more time. The lightning from this battle shot into her. She twitched wildly, arms and legs spasming and battering his ram inside her. He conducted the unbearable pleasures until he chose to let them go. Throwing his head back, he barked and howled, reached up and grabbed a roof joist: and each time her leg kicked or her hand flicked, his fingers sank deeper into the splintering oak. He swayed there, his head shaking slowly back and forth and veins pounding in his neck. With a moan of pure satisfaction, his shoulders twitched and his hips swiped her back and forth across the table. He froze and braced his legs and ass. An eleventh milking surged into the maid. Her body swelled, her neck fattened – and his puissance gushed out of her moaning mouth in driving bursts. My body wrenched a third helpless time together with gripping alarm. I felt immobilized but somehow I shouted, “Sir!” as his seed trickled out of her nose and not only from her ears, but also her eyes, like pearly tears. Hugh’s eyes whipped open and he turned and glared in mad fury. I fell back, my cock now heaving drily, and mustered all my courage. “She needs a doctor!” He looked back and for the first time saw the swollen main, his viscous ichor still seeping from her head. He pulled out suddenly and a bucket’s worth of slime whooshed out and all over his legs. He lifted her in one arm and, with the other, battered a hole in the side of the stable. He ran into the village, naked and not only erect but still foaming like … like a mad bear. He woke the doctor by breaking his door in half. The doctor clutched his blanket in terror, then saw the girl and jumped up so Hugh could place her on the bed. Though he was no longer in her, the overflow continued to leak out, spreading slowly over her body. All the time, though her eyes fluttered pure white, the smile never left her lips. The doctor pushed gently on her belly and semen oozed from several openings at both ends. He turned around and, seeing Hugh’s still-drooling plowshare, started in amazement before recovering himself. “Young man, I’ll take it from here.” Tears stained Hugh’s beautiful features. “I didn’t mean to … will she be all right?” “I’ve never seen anything like this,” the old man confessed. “So long as nothing inside her has burst, she should pull through. Though I doubt she’ll ever be the same. You should prepare yourself however: I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a father, several times over. Such prodigious … vigor … might likely plant a prodigy of seedlings in this young girl.” Turning away, he muttered again, “Like an Irish rabbit.” Hugh seemed stricken so I gripped his unyielding arm tight as I could. “Come, you should rest again. And I can’t carry you if you fall asleep stark naked in the street.” Hugh shuffled out and embarrassedly propped the shattered boards door back in the doorway. Overcome with a surge of relief or joy or something, he grabbed and lifted me high into the air, shook me wildly with an ecstatic grin on his face, and draped me over his shoulder like a potato sack. I could feel the slimy slap of his dick against my feet as he trotted down the moonlit street. My hands explored the battlements of his back under the guise of holding on: the central pennant-poles, the squarish berms of annealed flesh over each shoulder blade, and the ramparts that spread to either side. The feeling his shoulder rippling back and forth against my belly made me come again but, having nothing left, it hurt more than anything. I wouldn’t have traded it for the world. Back in the stable reeking of fornication, he flung me onto his pallet and stared down proudly. “My friend!” he said, beaming, chest flaring. Then, treating me more like a pet than a friend, he lay down beside me, enclosed me with his irresistible arm-mass and tucked my face into the deep pit of foggy musk between his chest and back. He fell to sleep immediately but my heart raced like a hunting hound. His bushy hairs tickled my forehead and soon his peace encompassed me. I dreamed I was running beside him and wagging my tale forever and ever. THE END

The Roommate's Gift It all began in John’s first year of university. It was an unassuming request; ‘one roommate required for a year lease downtown. John had instantly fell in love with the apartment, but he knew he couldn’t pay his bills without splitting the cost. Kareem had answered the ad almost as soon as it went up on the internet. John thought he was an ordinary guy. Also a first year, and wholly in love with the apartment as well. He had a short beard, olive tanned complexion and piercing green eyes. At first glance, John was not incorrect in assuming that he was from somewhere in the middle east, Kareem’s slight accent only confirmed his assumption. It soon became clear that Kareem was a perfect fit for a roommate. He was clean, organized and didn’t seem like he would have any problems paying for the second half of the rent. John helped him move into the apartment and began preparing for the start of the school year. Shortly after Kareem had moved in, John was woken up one early morning by the clash of pans from the kitchen. He cracked his door open and peaked through. What he saw took his breath away. He knew that Kareem had some hidden bulk under the baggy clothes that he usually wore, but nothing could prepare him for the sight of the muscular man shirtless in his kitchen. Kareem was huge. His body resembled that of a competition bodybuilder, only perhaps a little less leaner and definitely hairier. John retreated back into his room unnoticed. He regarded his own body with distaste. He was pale and skinny, with just enough fat to cover up his abs completely. He had basically no body hair to speak of, which suited him just fine. The only part of his body that he had any pride for was his legs. Good genetics and a lifetime of bike riding had given him swollen calves and cut quads. He went back to bed, dreaming of what it might feel like to have a buff masculine body like his roommate’s. School began and John found himself thrust into the daily grind of life. School and a retail part-time job kept him busy enough so that he barely saw Kareem. This didn’t stop the two from becoming closer and closer, and before either of them realized it, they were best mates. It was one dusky evening when John’s life began to change. Kareem was probably a better cook than John could ever hope to be. He was initially uncertain about the dishes that Kareem put in front of him, but he had yet to have a bad bite, so he never refused anything. Both of them were exhausted from a full day of classes, but John was especially exhausted after getting rejected, once again, by a girl he had been seeing for a couple weeks. Settling down to the steaming food in front of them, John blurted out his desire to have a body like Kareems. “That would get the girls’ attention,” he said dejectedly into his plate. Kareem looked up quickly and regarded John with those piercing eyes of his. “You should come to the gym with me tomorrow,” he said matter of factly. His pecs instinctively twitched under his tank top as he said it. “Yeah maybe. But I’ve tried the gym before, and it just doesn’t seem to work for me! The only things I can ever get to grow are these damned legs.” He looked down at his lower extremities with bewilderment and frustration. “You probably weren’t eating enough,” Kareem said dryly to him. “I think I know how to help.” The slightest smile appeared on his face. He pushed his bulk out his chair and strode over to the kitchen cupboards. John watched him rifle through the numerous spices and herbs that he kept in the cupboards, before he produced a small glass container. “Salt,” he said. “From my hometown, it will help kick up that food a bit.” John didn’t think the food in front of him needed more salt, in fact it was plenty salty already. But he only watched as Kareem knocked some of the salt into his hand. The grains were ruby red and almost seemed to play with the light in the room. John had never seen salt like that before, but he’d also never seen most of the things in Kareem’s spice cupboard, and he tended not to ask. Kareem sprinkled it over John’s food before plunking back into his own chair and tucking into the food. John watched suspiciously as the red crystals dissolved. He shrugged and began to eat. The next morning, John was quite literally woken up by his stomach. Its desperate cries moved him quickly out of bed and into the kitchen. He was not surprised to see Kareem frying up breakfast for the two of them. “Good morning,” he said sleepily before sauntering into the bathroom. “Morning,” Kareem announced, not turning away from the sizzling frying pan. He smiled to himself as he heard the click of the bathroom door closing. John looked in the mirror. “Huh,” he said flatly. His lanky body didn’t look as lanky anymore. In fact, he thought he looked pretty good! He had the first signs of some muscular definition in his chest and arms. The bulge of his legs seemed to push his boxers slightly wider than he had ever noticed before. Oddest of all, he seemed to have a slightly shadowed patch in the middle of his chest, closer inspection revealed budding hair that he had never noticed before. He rubbed the stubble on his face, that also seemed darker and denser than he had ever noticed before. It looked like he only had to wait a couple of weeks before he would be sporting a full dense beard. John wasn’t stupid, and it didn’t take long for him to figure out what had happened. An image of the glass container with the red salt sprung into his mind. He reached into the depths of his mind, trying to remember some factoid of biology that would explain what the salt had done to his body. Nothing came to mind. “Was it dangerous?” John wondered to himself. He realized he didn’t really care, he just needed more of it. Kareem was sitting at the table with two steaming plates as John left the bathroom. He stopped himself from smiling, the transformation had already begun. John had reacted quickly to the crystals, better than Kareem ever had, he was glad that he had only given him a little bit. “Breakfast is ready,” he said cooly. “I’m sorry I started without you, but I need to get going, anatomy class at 8:30, remember?” “Yeah, no worries. Thanks for breakfast!” John watched Kareem curiously as the big man shoveled the last bit of food into his mouth and grabbed his bag. They exchanged goodbyes and all at once, John was alone in the apartment. He wasted no time in seizing his opportunity. He opened Kareem’s cupboard, expecting to find the usual mess. Instead he found exactly what he was looking for. The red salt was there, right in front of him, almost like it had been placed there on purpose. He didn’t give it much thought, only grabbing it and emptying a generous amount into his food. Just like before, it absorbed into his food. Only this time, there was so much that it left a reddish hue. He hesitated for a second, unsure of what he was doing. “It’s only salt,” he laughed to the empty room before shovelling the red food into his mouth. He admitted, the taste wasn’t fantastic. The salt was indeed salty. But he ate it all. Afterwards he only sat there, waiting. But nothing happened. Maybe he was mistaken? Maybe he just hadn’t looked at himself in a while and it was just Kareem’s calorie dense food that had caused him to grow. That wouldn’t exactly explain the hair, but it made more sense than muscle growing salt. John pulled on a shirt and pants, ignoring the feeling of tugging fabric. He would have to take the bus, there was no way he was making it to campus in time by walking. As he flashed his student ID to the bus driver he suddenly felt his skin flush and his head go light. He quickly chose a seat in the back, happy that there was barely anyone else in the bus. His whole body seemed to go numb and cold, he realized he was sweating. John could feel every heartbeat along almost every inch of his body, as if his heart was pumping overtime. And then he felt it. An unmistakable feeling of heaviness enveloped him and he began to grow. He looked at his forearm with a mix of disgust and ecstasy as he watched it fill with hot, hard muscle. Thick veins pushed against the skin under his arm, and as his muscles grew they appeared on the backs of them as well. He watched with bated pleasure as his forearms pumped themselves larger and larger, and thick hair began to mat on their tops. John gasped as he felt his sleeves fill up from his swelling biceps and triceps. A tiny groan escaped his lips, which only drew the gaze of a few bus passengers who looked away before they noticed what was happening. He felt the fabric stretch and stretch until the material was skin tight over a pair of massive bodybuilder arms. A vein ran down each arm, even visible when they ascended into the sleeves of his shirt. Unbeknownst to John, a deep crevice was forming between his ballooning pecs. It was visible above the collar of his stretching V-neck shirt. He reached with a veiny muscle hand to grope a growing pec. The muscle was hard and warm under the thin fabric, he could feel it slowly expanding under his touch. He looked down at himself, suddenly aware that his chest had grown into a thick shelf of muscle. He rubbed under the shirt, not surprised to feel a modest amount of soft hair covering the hard muscle. As his back widened and his shirt tightened, an obvious eight pack was suddenly visible on his torso, pushing the material into eight neat mounds under his heaving pecs. He flexed an arm, delighting in the ball of muscle that formed and the explosion of vascularity that suddenly stood in stark relief against the smoothness of his skin. His attention was suddenly diverted to his lower half, as he felt an overwhelming tightness. His legs were huge! The bulky, hairy mounds of muscle were spilling over his seat. Luckily he had worn stretchy running shorts, and the bulk had only made them ride up, revealing his now god-like lower limbs. He felt ripping and knew that his boxers had given way to his growth, giving him relief from the tightness and allowing his muscles to grow into the soft fabric of his shorts. A couple veins ran down his massive calves, making them look even more cut and athletic. He again praised himself for wearing flip-flops, as even his feet had grown. They were long and thick, corded with athletic looking muscle and veins. He kicked off the useless flip-slops absentmindedly. And just as soon as it started, it stopped. John’s shirt clung tightly, but securely to the muscle man’s torso. His hairy, meaty pecs were overwhelmingly visible above the deep V collar. His previously baggy running shorts were filled with hard hairy muscle, making them resemble compression shorts. He brought a meaty hand to his chin, only to realize that a short dark beard had grown. The transformation was complete. John had a body to rival his roommate’s and he knew it. The bus trundled to his stop, just beside the main quad of his university campus. The sun was out and hundreds of students were milling around the grounds. John noticed that many of the guys were shirtless. He wasted no time in pulling his off, finally ripping it a little bit in the process. He was the biggest man on campus now, he knew it, and he loved it. Thanks to Kareem’s gift, university was about to get a whole lot better. This one's pretty PG.. Let me know what you think!

“THE ANATOMY LESSON” by LuvsMusl “Brian?” He was surprised to hear Coach Porter calling him from the other end of the locker room. Brian had taken to putting in extra sessions in the weight room after practice. The school’s compact but well equipped gym was usually packed with other kids, football players and wrestlers, mostly, until six o’clock or so. He would take a half hour break after football practice, gulp a mix of high energy carbs and BCAA’s, and then grab an hour or so in the gym by himself, lifting intensely without any distractions. Lifting was his passion, his obsession. He had no particular plans to seriously pursue bodybuilding or any other sport. He just loved the feel of the iron, and seeing himself get stronger week by week, and watching his muscles grow steadily bigger and harder. He looked up and smiled as Porter strolled toward him. “You’re here pretty late, Coach. Prepping for Friday night?” A jayvee game was being played the following evening. “No, just catching up on lesson plans and stuff. That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” Brian shrugged slightly, pantomiming ‘what do you mean?’ “I’m about to do Anatomy with my senior Men’s Health class. Our class, I should say, since you’re in it.” “Okay…” “I was watching you in the weight room earlier…” Brian reddened a little, somewhat disconcerted at the thought that Coach had been secretly spying on him while he trained. “…And I was thinking. What if instead of just using those dumb charts, like every year, I get an actual guy, one of my athletes, to stand in front of the class and model the different joints and muscle groups as I point them out?” “Y’ mean –“ Porter chuckled at the anxious look on Brian’s face. “Yeah, dummy, I mean you. Just look at how well-defined your muscles are. It’ll be much clearer to people what I’m talking about than if I just point at flat diagrams on a chart. Am I right?” Brian went into his own head for a moment. He wasn’t much of an exhibitionist. Of course, it always made him feel good when girls, or other guys, made comments about how great his body looked. But now he pictured himself standing naked, or almost naked, in front of a room full of his classmates and teammates, being made to pose and flex. He couldn’t quite decide whether he hated the idea… or if… Porter decided for him. “Let’s just spend half an hour and see if we can plan it out. Grab a quick shower and then come on back to my office. Just your briefs. We can do a Speedo or something on Monday.” Without giving Brian a chance to answer, the coach turned and strode back toward his office. In the shower Brian thought more about the idea as he soaped himself up and started rinsing off. He was suddenly more focused than normal on his hard-earned eight pack, his thick pecs, his muscled arms and legs… all the while imagining the other guys in class staring at him in astonishment. In envy. Fuck, he suddenly thought. Why am I hard? A little disturbed that the image of himself preening and flexing in front of the twenty other men in his health class turned him on so much, he got to work furiously stroking his meaty cock (“My best body part,” he would joke whenever a girlfriend saw his thick 9.5 inches for the first time.) The giant boner was refusing to cooperate. He had to turn off the shower head and keep grabbing more palmfuls of pink liquid soap. Coach is waiting, he thought. How long have I been in here? Finally, to get the job done, Brian turned his mind back to the image of him flexing his massive physique in front of a roomful of admiring, lesser men. This got him a little closer. To cross the finish line he had to flex his pumped-up left bicep, and stare hard at the thick vein that crossed the deep, perfect separation between the muscle’s two heads. At the same time cranking his swollen tool with the other hand until finally, thankfully, he came, in a series of five emphatic spurts. Red-faced and breathless, he turned on the cold water to rinse his river of cum off the shower tiles, and off where it had splattered back onto his thighs. Porter sat at his desk, nervously laying out his anatomy notes. What’s taking him? “Coach?” He looked up and saw Brian, a little shy in skimpy red briefs, filling his office doorway. Filling was the right word. Dirty blond hair still wet from the shower, the kid, without gym shorts or a tank top interrupting the flow of his physique, looked like a young god. Porter felt something stirring downtown, and reflexively averted his eyes, glancing, for a moment, at the framed photo of his wife and two kids on the desk. “I’m, uh… ready when you are,” Brian mumbled, the hesitation in his voice suggesting otherwise. “Good. Good. We’ll get started in a sec.” Porter stood up, not sure how to begin. He found it literally impossible to avoid staring at the kid’s beautifully symmetrical, exquisitely sculpted body. He’d seen Brian in clothes, or in his football uniform, a thousand times. But seeing him now, like this, he realized that the boy’s perfect proportions disguised the reality of how big and full his muscles actually were. “My God, Brian, you really do have an amazing physique. What are you weighing right now?” “One ninety-seven, Coach,” Brian offered proudly. “My goal is to hit two ten by the end of the school year. Without sacrificing this…” He ran his palm over his flat, shredded midsection. Coach smiled. “A hard two ten, huh? And you’re what? Five eleven?” “Five nine.” Porter let out an impressed whistle. “That’ll be quite an accomplishment. Especially for a 17 year-old.” “I’m 18, actually. I missed a lot of school the year my family moved here, so I repeated fourth grade.” Porter felt himself blushing bright red and it terrified him, sickened him even, that his heart had leapt when he heard that Brian was over 18. What was he thinking? Brian noticed it, too. Was Coach turned on by him? Could Jack Porter, the school’s famously tough, macho, hard ass football coach possibly be aroused by the sight of his shirtless body? Were his muscles that impressive? He had no conscious intention to test this. But, apparently, there was an unconscious urge, because without any thought Brian tensed his pecs and they jumped for a second, ever so subtly, briefly revealing the nice separation between his upper and lower chest, and the deep indentations where the side of his pectoral muscles flowed into his delts. The look that flashed momentarily in Porter’s eyes told Brian everything. Oddly, instead of feeling uncomfortable he found himself growing more relaxed. Fully on purpose this time he lifted his arms and clasped his hands casually behind his head, knowing full well that this would accentuate the V-taper of his torso, bring his obliques into high relief, and flex his biceps into perfect, solid globes beside his head. “Let’s do this,” he said, suddenly sounding like the man in charge. Porter cleared his throat, knowing that if he didn’t his voice would break. “Um… I usually start with the midsection.” Brian moved to lower his hands, but the coach stopped him. “No, keep ‘em like they were, that’s perfect.” Brian interlaced his fingers behind his head again, this time tensing his body so that everything popped. “Yes, yes, that’s good,” Porter said, his words colored with way more excitement than he’d intended to convey. “I won’t do my whole spiel. But I’ll start by talking about your... your… uh… rectus abdominus… upper obliques… serratus anterior…” As he listed the muscles Porter’s hands moved over Brian’s body, gently at first, outlining each muscle as he named it, then pointing out all the individual examples of that type. “Very impressive, Brian,” he said, unable to stop himself from commenting. “Looks like every muscle in your body is perfectly developed.” “Thanks, I work hard at it.” Throughout the process Brian had kept watching the coach’s face, his eyes, enjoying the extreme reaction his physique was causing in the older man. It wasn’t clear whether Porter noticed his own breathing getting heavier, or his fingers spending more and more time on each of the muscles he enumerated… stroking and feeling its density, its elegant shape, its meaty perfection. But Brian noticed, and it thrilled him to his core. I fucking own this guy, he thought. I bet I could get him to do anything. As if sensing Brian’s thoughts the coach’s voice got a little soft and dreamy as he continued his exploration: “External intercostals. Beautiful.” He forgot to talk for the next minute or so as his hands continued wandering, tracing the transversus abdominus -- the muscular V that framed Brian’s lower abs -- and finally rested, once again, in the middle of the boy’s phenomenal, marble sculpture of a stomach. “Punch me,” Brian said. “What?” “Hit me, Coach, with your closed fist, as hard as you can.” Porter chuckled nervously. “I boxed in college, Brian. I had twenty-two amateur fights, I won most of them. Trust me, you don’t want me to hit you.” “If you want to touch any more of my muscles you’ll do it. And not a love tap, either. I want you to pull back and slam me with 100% of your full strength.” The coach was incredibly aroused by Brian’s confidence. And he craved seeing just how strong, how rock solid the kid’s magnificent eight pack was. He set his stance for maximum leverage, pulled his big fist back, and torqued his entire, solid 230 pounds toward Brian’s midsection. The 18 year-old didn’t budge, not a centimeter, didn’t register the blow at all, as Porter’s fist connected with the cinder-block wall that was his midsection. “Fuck!” Coach shouted in pain and pulled his arm back, moving his fingers to see whether any of the bones in his hand had cracked or even broken. Brian laughed, reveling more and more in his newfound power. “Pretty fucking hard, right? Tell the truth. You’ve never anyone with a body like this, let alone a kid.” He put his hands on his 28 inch waist and flared his lats, creating a mind-blowing V in a move that also showcased his spectacular, pumped-up delts, biceps, triceps, pecs… and of course that stone wall of a stomach. The coach was momentarily speechless. “N… No, Sir.” The ‘Sir’ surprised Brian. But no less than it shocked Porter, who had no idea why it had come out of his mouth. Well, he had some idea. Emboldened, Brian bent his right arm under his chin and flexed it, causing a diamond hard, perfectly shaped bicep peak to rise like a steely half moon above his brachialis. “Hey, Coach,” he teased. “Feel that shit. You know you want to.” Coach put his still-aching hand on the boy’s bicep and squeezed it, flushing with delight at how insanely hard and ungiving it was. He might as well have been squeezing a cue ball or a trailer hitch. “Go ahead, kiss it if you want. Put it in your mouth.” Porter met the boy’s gleaming eyes, which showed just how much Brian was getting off on teasing and dominating him. He leaned forward and kissed the stunningly perfect bicep as Brian flexed it again, making it even harder. Porter put his mouth around the granite sphere and sucked it as if it were a thick, juicy cock, slurping and moaning in delight. He would have gone on forever if Brian hadn’t finally stopped him, pushing the coach’s head away, disappointment and frustration darkening the older man’s face. “You like that, don’t you,” Brian teased, now “popping” the beautiful peak, making it jump, over and over, from flaccid to granite hard, a perfectly shaped beef balloon bouncing and swelling. “Boom! Boom! Boom!” “I like it very much, Sir.” “I’m a thousand times the man you’ll ever be. You know that, don’t you? And I’m still in fucking high school.” Brian was on auto-pilot now, improvising, riding his muscle bronco for all it was worth. “Yes, Brian. I mean, yes, Sir. It’s true.” “Fucking right it’s true. You’re hardly a man at all, compared to me. More like a worm. An insect. Next to this you’re nothing.“ He hit a tight most-muscular pose and his 18 year-old body congealed into an edifice of powerful, carved-up beef, veins like quarter-inch pipes throbbing in his thick neck, his brutal shoulders, his ungodly muscular arms. As the boy held the pose, twisting slightly left and right to deliver the full measure of his intimidating virility, Porter couldn’t keep himself from reaching down and stroking the excited thing that was growing inside his gym shorts. Seeing this, Brian stopped flexing, pushed the coach’s hand aside and grabbed hold of the man’s hard cock through his pants. “Is that what my big muscles do to you?” He squeezed Porter’s dick a little harder. “Yes, Sir. I love your big muscles. I live for your muscles.” Brian grinned, still not letting go. “Does it ever get this hard for Mrs. Porter?” He tightened his grip even more, staring into the coach’s eyes, grinning with amused contempt, a bald challenge. A surge of fury formed in the older man’s gut and rose to his throat, an instinctive reaction to his pupil’s brazen disrespect. But before Coach could act on this Brian lifted his callused palm to the coach’s cheek and gave it a patronizing pat. “It’s okay, Jack. My body has reduced better men than you to complete submission. Much better men.” Porter’s anger instantly shrank to a tiny pebble, washed away in the tidal wave of the muscleboy’s cockiness, his effortless dominance. A wet spot of pre-cum had started growing on the front of the coach’s pants. “Okay, let’s finish the lesson. I’ll flex my big teenage muscles and you tell my homies what they’re looking at.” Brian turned his back on Porter and unpacked a masterful rear biceps shot, a sweeping landscape of sculpted flesh that caused the coach to grab his desk for support. The boy reached his hands up and pulled his back into a tighter version of the pose, forcing even deeper valleys in the mountain range of thick muscle: “I’m waiting.” “Sorry, Sir. I’m sorry…” He had to catch his breath before he could start. “Well, um… those are your… your...” “Yeah, yeah, my fucking traps. My fucking lats. My beautiful fucking rhomboids. You’re boring me.” “But –“ “Shut up, worm. What about my glutes? …Are we going to talk about my glutes, Coach?” Without turning back around Brian pulled his briefs down and kicked them out of the way. Porter found himself staring at the most staggeringly beautiful 18 year-old muscle ass in the history of human asses. His knees buckled and he was on the floor, reduced to servitude by the sheer force of youthful male perfection that loomed in front of him. Brian clenched his curvaceous onion and it consolidated into a rock hard matrix of gluteal magnificence – deep grooves and solid ridges striping his shapely butt like the protective armor of some prehistoric creature. Coach made a little noise, from deep in his throat, like the cry of a dying loon. And then he lunged forward, propelling his face toward the tawny curve, the shadowy crescent that promised the fulfillment of his darkest, most joyful and secret dreams. But before Porter’s tongue could find its target Brian pivoted around and whacked Coach in the jaw with his massive billy club of an erect cock. When the older man recovered Brian grinned and wagged his big piece in Coach’s face, making it bounce with pure muscle control, which left his hands free to stroke his abs seductively. “It’s quite a bit bigger than yours, Jack. I guess that’s no surprise.” “No, Sir.” “Maybe if you’re a good boy I’ll let you suck this muscle cock.” “I’ll be a good boy, Sir. I promise.” “Who owns you, little man?” “You do, Sir.” Coach jerked a little, he was starting to cum in spite of himself. “Who’s your muscle master?” “You are!” “Who?” “You, Sir! Brian! Brian Hansen!” Brian laughed and shoved his battering ram of a tool into Coach’s mouth. He grabbed the back of Porter’s head and slammed it repeatedly against his own hard abs, rhythmically fucking the older man’s face as Porter gagged and choked in delirious ecstasy… holding on for dear life to the teen muscleman’s flaring vastus lateralis. With each hard thrust Brian yelled out a command: “Take that teenage cock! Eat that nasty dick muscle! Brian Hansen is God! Brian’s muscles rule your worthless life.” Coach gargled a worshipful assent, somehow forcing it past the wide pillar of cock that filled his throat. Suddenly Brian pulled out, stepping back and stroking his swollen red erection, which was still slick with the coach’s saliva. “You want some of this hot muscleboy cum?” “Yes, Sir!” “How bad do you want it?” “More than anything! A million times more than anything I’ve ever wanted!” “Then work for it. Talk about my muscles.” Brian continued massaging his engorged cock, no longer looking at Coach but instead giving full attention to his raging boner as Porter clamored to gather his thoughts and began talking: “You’re the king of muscle. You’re a boy with the body of a god. Your biceps are giant mountains of male power. Your body is the Master of all men. Every time you flex your giant muscles it’s like you’re fucking my brain, my heart, my soul. Fuck me, Muscle God! Fuck me with your big, powerful, fucking muscles!” Brian was getting closer. “Don’t stop! Grab hold of my balls.” The coach happily did what he was told. “I want your muscles, Brian. I love your muscles. Your muscles own me. I’m a lowly slave to your giant teenage muscles.” Brian was now really close. “Whose teenage muscles?” “Your teen age muscles! Muscle God Brian’s fucking powerful, godlike teenage muscles!” About to cum, Brian shoved the coach aside and continued the chant himself, crying out triumphantly with each stroke of his truly magnificent cock: “My muscles!... My muscles!... “Brian’s!... “Fucking!...Powerful!”... “Godlike!”….”MUSCLES!” And with that he shot, his 18 year-old firehose spewing thick muscleboy cum on the coach’s face, in his cum-hungry mouth, on his shirt, across the desk, drowning the anatomy notes in a huge pool of hot, creamy spooj. For a long moment they just sat there, man and boy (though it’s not entirely clear which was which), physically and emotionally spent. After a while Porter grabbed a gym towel and wiped the cum off his face. He smiled, shyly. “Thank you, Brian. I really mean it.” Brian shrugged. “No worries.” He stood up and noticed that his dick, still semi-erect, was continuing to drip cum on the coach’s carpet. Porter saw it, also. “Don’t bother about that. I’ll have the cleaning crew come in and spruce this place up on Saturday. Or maybe I’ll have the jayvee squad do it.” He chuckled at his own joke. “I guess I better go shower.” Porter looked up at the kid, who was more pumped and shredded than ever after the intense flexing session. Mother of Christ, he thought. That boy truly is a god. “Oh, Coach, one more thing. Could you maybe write me a pass to get out of fifth period on Monday? That way I can come here and pump up before Health class.” Porter grabbed his pad and scrawled out the note. He presented it to Brian, noticing the way the kid’s triceps flared into a huge, striated horseshoe as he leaned on the desk to take it from his hand.” “Thanks.” He flashed Porter a dazzling, toothy grin. “I can’t wait for Monday.” “Neither can I.” “And don’t worry, Coach. I won’t tell anyone you’re a fag.” He winked playfully and swaggered out of the office. His dimpled glutes seemed to mock Porter as they bounced and flexed into the darknesss of the locker room.

It happened at the West Oceanville Library. I was sitting at the front desk with a large stack of books besides me, just waiting to be cataloged into the library database. Behind me sat Doreen, an older woman with auburn hair and blues eyes. She was a quiet woman, did her job, participated in small talk, and went home promptly at 9:00 p.m. Mondays through Fridays. To my left sat Bill, he was about my age, blonde with steel colored eyes, and incredibly slim. The man could eat a whole chicken wrapped in bacon every day for lunch and never gain a single pound, much to the dismay of his calorie counting wife. Half a dozen others worked in and about the library, always working or giving off the illusion of working. After several months, I had finally broken my habit of watching the main doors. No longer did I glance up every time the doors slid open. Like my coworkers I fell into the habit of greeting library goers two or three feet from the front desk. It was mid-morning; the library was dreadfully empty. Just row upon row of books, magazines, encyclopedias, and dictionaries neatly scattered through the right wing of the building. To the left were dozens of computers lined up in long rows and several private rooms with electronic devices and furniture. It was very quiet and so empty; looking up even to see a coworker walking about just reminded me how empty the building truly was. Maybe that's why I fell again into my habit of watching the doors. When I first saw him, he appeared to be at the edge of the parking lot. At first there was nothing particularly eye catching about his appearance. No absurd hairstyle or piercings or tattoos, nothing that made him stick out form so far way. I simply acknowledged him and returned to my work. The moment my hand reached out top book on my large stack of books, the front doors slid up. He stepped onto the carpet; it was a heavy step that sounded throughout the library. I could feel my coworkers look in the direction of the sound, but I didn't look. I already know the source of the sound, a man in heavy footwear. As the man approached the front desk, I continued the process of cataloging. Something was immediately wrong. The man was supposed to be near the edge of the parking lot, and yet he was now inside and I could feel the man approaching. His heavy steps, the resulting vibrations, the disruptions in the air, everything about him seemed wrong. Before I could take another look at him, a shadow fell upon me. A shiver went through my spine. I raised my head and straightened my spine to find myself staring at a large grey canvas. Usually I met the eyes of normal sized men and women, but on that day I met the largest chest I have ever seen. He seemed to be seven or eight feet tall, maybe taller. The man wasn't just tall; he was a towering mass of muscle. If a woman had a son and raised him on a diet consisting purely of proteins, growth hormones, and steroids, that man would be the result. Unlike so many muscular men loitering about the towns of California, this man didn't wear an obscenely tight t-shirt. His t-shirt was loose, though it did nothing to hide his expansive chest, high traps, or ape sized shoulders. Those shoulders were simply too massive to belong to a human, an ordinary man could comfortably sit upon either shoulder. For what seemed like an eternity, I continued to stare at the man. The more I stared the more I became convinced he wasn't real. One second his chest was expansive, the next it was astronomical. Even through the t-shirt, it was apparent that the crevice between the man's pectorals was wide enough to completely engulf either of my forearms. The slabs of meat on either side were just that, slabs of meat. Granted they were slabs large enough to make any butcher groan at the task of cutting such meat. Together they didn't even form a chest; they couldn't possibly form anything that could even remotely be considered the chest of a man. Each pectoral had more flesh and muscle than an ordinary man has in his whole body. Due to their sheer size they bulged out together a seemingly impossible distance from the man's body, but that wasn't the most astonishing thing about the heaving densely packed hemispheres of muscle. Unlike most bodybuilders and gym-rats, this man's lower pectorals weren't the thickest part of the meat; his pectorals appeared to be uniformly thick. It was a strange sight, an abnormal sight, but his was fascinating, captivating, I could not look away. I continued to take in the man's dimensions for what seemed like an eternity, before he spoke up. "Excuse me, I'd like to get a library card," his voice sounded off through the entire building in a rich melodic brass tone. Several seconds passed before I could regain my thoughts. I tore my head away and started searching for the proper form, like my life depended on it. After nearly tearing through every drawer in my area, I remembered there was a stack of papers right next the stack of books. I grabbed a single sheet of paper and handed it to the man. "Fill this out. You also need to present a valid form of ID and a recent bill with you current address," I said, while not really hearing myself, just going off an old habit. How could I possibly pay full attention to myself when a Herculean giant was standing mere two feet away? Craning my neck almost toward the ceiling, I still could not clearly see the man's face. His chest was simply too big, from my angle it actually blocked out a large portion of his face. His clear ocean blue eyes were plainly visible under matching dark eyebrows. His dark black hair was short and unstyled, the urge to style my hair after his embedded itself into my mind. Looking at his nose and ears, they looked unnatural. They were straight and full, and somehow they looked just as thick and muscular as the rest of his body. If he wrinkled his nose and wiggled his ears, it would be more akin to flexing his nose and ears full of muscle instead of cartilage. Continuing to stare, I felt something was off. I was staring too much, and not doing my job enough. The man grabbed the paper, and did something unexpected. He stepped aside and pulled out a pen from his right pocket, He then placed a forearm larger than most men's quads on the counter and began filling out the library card request form. Nobody filled out the form in person, they always took it home. However than man was prepared, he planned ahead. Even without seeing his bill or ID, I knew that he had them, but at the time such trivial thoughts were blocked almost entirely out by another set of thoughts. Once again I found myself captivated by the man's muscle mass. His right bicep not only filled the sleeve, it stretched it. There must have been one or two inches of empty space when his arm was completely relaxed, but pressed against the counter, the sleeve was being stretched by an arm that would make a gorilla green with envy. His right bicep, it seemed to swell upwards toward the sky; a large beige hemisphere, sitting atop untold number of other hemispheres forming deep crevices and mountains. The muscle was stunning, but it was the veins that really stole the attention. Running down the center of the bicep was a thick tree root of a vein, except it was dark and blue. From that vein spread out an extensive network of smaller veins running throughout his bicep, up his shoulders, and along his forearm. That right forearm causally resting on the counter was larger than either of my quads. With every flick of the wrist, hundreds, thousands, of muscle fibers bounced around like an earthquake. His forearm actually bunched up together and grew. With every twitch, it seemed to grow bigger and bigger. The round hard muscles jumped around violently, the veins joined in and began twitching. It was terrifying and amazing at the same time. I could not look away; I was enamored at the sight. He kept writing and I kept watching. I knew he could feel my looking, but he didn't say anything. Not once did my eyes ever left his body, never did his eyes leave the paper. We maintained our positions for one maybe two minutes, but it seemed like forever. I had enough time to take in every single detail of his spectacular body, of every muscle, of every vein, of every hair on his forearm. He was not every hairy, in fact I assumed he shaved his arms. There were short dark hairs mixed with shorter blonde hairs. I began wondering how it was possible to shave his arms, which such bumpy muscles and thick flaring veins, when he looked at me. His ocean blue eyes locked onto my sandy brown eyes. He didn't smile or anything, he just looked and straightened his body; I was eye level with his crotch. It looked like a circus tent, like there were either three socks stuffed inside or mountains of air tucked safely away. Instinctively I knew neither was the case, the man was simply endowed like a porn star, like a beast with large genitalia. I could not see anything, not clearly anyways, but I knew his testicles were larger than eggs, his penis larger than a toilet paper roll. Suddenly I felt inadequate. Never in any locker room, restroom, or bedroom had I felt inadequate. None of my partners had ever complained, statistically I was not any longer than most men, but I was slightly thicker; thick enough to give some pain and discomfort to my fiancé, if we did not engage in sufficient foreplay. He saw me stare, he could not have missed it; I made it so painfully obvious. He really must have been used to the attention, because he did not seem angry or irritated, his facial expression did not change in the slightest. The man simply held the request form out for me to receive. With trembling hands, I took the form and glanced over it. Everything seemed to be in order; I just needed an ID and a bill. "Do you have a current ID and bill?" "Yes, sir." At some point he had taken out a driver's license and electric bill; he handed them to me. I grabbed the license and bill, glanced them over. Still sitting on my rolling chair, I pushed off against the ground toward the copier. Waiting for the machine to warm up, I noticed my coworkers were stealing glances at the man. Their faces showed a wide array of emotion, fascination, disbelief, lust, envy, among several others. None even attempted to be discrete, they just stole a glance whenever the urge hit. From his request form, ID, and bill, I saw his name was Serge Laurent. He was only 6'4 and just two months older than me. He lived on beach front property, isolated beach front property. The amount due on the bill was rather substantial, even for the large houses that comprised his neighborhood. A million and one thoughts raced through my mind, as the copier finished. I tried to piece together Laurent's life going off his body, and bill. He undoubtedly had money, which allowed him to spend all day working out and, most likely, feasting on protein rich food and various muscle growth compounds. Physically he was attractive, his face at least; his body was something else. He was obviously not a bodybuilder. Laurent's body was far beyond the reach of any old school or current bodybuilder. Of course his body was large and musclebound, but it was also perfectly symmetrical, it was aesthetically pleasing even to people who were disgusted by bodybuilders. Running through memories at the beach, I could not help, but compare Laurent to the occasional bodybuilder or meathead. He was so much taller, so much wider, he possessed unparalleled symmetry, he had them completely and utterly beat in every sense of the word. With his muscles and height and looks, he could undoubtedly do anything. He could destroy every bodybuilding competition, dominate every strong man contest, own every high fashion runway, manhandle every professional footballer or wrestler, he could literally do anything. However, I had the distinct idea that he didn’t. I returned to the man and handed him his belongings. Then I grabbed a temporary card and gave it to him, and explained that he would receive the actual card in the male. We exchanged a, 'thank you.' He went on his way toward the computer area and sat on the far side. Laurent was a towering mass of muscle, but he was not, at least from our short encounter, cocky or domineering. He was polite and, from his choice of clothing, modest. Immediately I pulled out my smartphone and started searching his name. Tens of millions of hits popped up. His website was the first; it was littered with dozens of images. In most of them he was wearing shorts and posing, either by himself, or with at least one woman. Each picture showed his unbelievable size and definition, each one seemed Photo shopped, but after staring at the man first hand I knew the pictures did not due him justice. If anything the pictures made him look 'small.' Or maybe it was the clothing that made him somehow look bigger. Either way, the man was a beast. Navigating his website wasn't difficult; I made my way to biography page. The man was the biggest thing in the world of fitness, literally. His father was a bodybuilder, his mother a dancer. They trained him to build up his body; he took to it and grew. Through his entire life he grew and grew, until he was a quarter of a century old. By the time he entered the fitness world, he was the tallest and heaviest male model. In three short years he mangled to grace the cover of over a three hundred magazines, romance novels, and newspapers, while appearing on various television shows. Continuing my search, I found that several movie studios were eager to have him take up a lead role in a summer blockbuster; dozens of companies sought to endorse him. I glanced over at the man, and gasped. With just a side view at his jawline, I could tell it was incredible; large, defined, angular. He was clean shaven, his skin smooth and clear, yet at the same time it looked rough, like sandpaper; a man's skin, a working man's skin. However that was not why I gasped. The tent in his shorts was higher than the table. Much higher than the table, it towered over the table, and it was not empty. He was not aroused, he was simply that large. Stealing glances at the man, I could not help but wonder how the man was even able to sit. He completely dwarfed the chair. His legs were far too massive to fit under the desk, his knees were uncomfortably high, his fingers had to be too big for the keyboard, but somehow he managed to type away. He must have been typing away at 80 words per minute; the rapid movement caused the muscles and veins in the arms to twitch dangerously. The towering mass was terrifying, and yet I somehow knew it was just an unintentional show. The man would never intentionally hurt anybody, it must have been apparent. After Laurent walked in, dozens of people slowly started trickling into the building. Most of them stopped near the front desk, not because were in need of assistance, but simply because they caught a view of him. Many stared, and even more chose seats that would allow them view the giant. Nearly forty library goers and staff repeatedly stole glances at the man as he continued to type away. There was not a single doubt in my mind that I was stealing the most. I became confused, as I continued to watch the man. Never in my life had I reacted to another man in such a way. The fascination was too great; he made me feel small and inadequate. It was not intentional, he did not mean to cause such feeling to bubble up, but it happened. The feeling was plainly visible on the faces of many men, who also felt small around him. A couple looked like they wanted to approach the man, but he was unapproachable with those massive twitching muscles. The more I watched the more I become enamored; I simply could not look away from his muscles. My face became red, my stomach sank. Excusing myself, I went into a restroom stall; inside I unbuttoned my pants and allowed my penis breathing room. With my right hand I fondled my penis and started picturing Laurent with all his oversized bulging muscles, those veins, his face with those clear blue eyes, and even his penis. Nothing, no growth on my part. No elongation, not a single extra drop of blood rushed to the external organ. Confusion further set in. I could not keep myself from staring at the man, or rather his muscles, but I was not psychically attracted to him. Somehow, in my mind fascination become intertwined with attraction which led to confusion. I was not sexually attracted to the man or his muscles, but I was mentally attracted to the muscles. I wanted the size the strength that he had. Returning to my station, I blatantly began searching his name again. A 28 year time line appeared with many pictures for every year. Unless he really was raised on purely protein, steroids, and growth hormones, the man was a complete natural. Each picture showed Serge Laurent a little taller and more muscular than the last. The time line was perfect, a perfect record of his growth, of his life. There was not a single picture where he was unbelievable bigger, no sudden extreme growth. The growth was gradual, a result of 28 years of working hard and eating right. At 28 myself, I could not possibly reach that man's level, nobody could. However, that did not mean I could not return to the gym, or take up running again. I wanted to improve my own physical shape; I wanted mass, size, muscle. That's what I wanted, muscle.

The Traffic Jam Half a dozen drivers angrily honked their car horns in frustration at a young man, as he walked through a slow moving traffic jam. He stopped in each lane and refused to move until a blue Subaru, managed to merge into said lane. The pair repeated the process several times, until they reached the rightmost lane and exited the freeway. "Pretty sure we are not supposed to do that, Spencer," said the driver. "Come on Jacob, did you really want to wait for a two mile long traffic jam to clear up?" "Well no." "So now we're out. No harm done to anybody." "I guess." "Dude you're too intense." Jacob gave his passenger a look, "I don't think you know what intense means." "Sure I do. You're always like, 'We can't do that,' or 'We're not supposed to be here,' dude you need to lighten up a little." "Yeah, yeah, you say that now, but one of these days you are gonna end up in jail for defacing private property or trespassing." "No I won’t." The two friends continued the drive for thirty minutes before they arrived at a large government building, near the center of down town. The building was roughly eighty years old, and stood as a contraction amid a sea of modern metallic and glass rectangles. There was character in the white painted bricks, and finesse in the detailed edges and borders. "You boys are late again," said the receptionist; a dark haired, pale skinned woman with an icy demeanor. "Sorry Eleanor,” said Jacob "We got caught up in a traffic jam," said Spencer. "According to the reports, the traffic jam hasn't moved at all in the last twenty minutes. Not to mention it's been an ongoing thing since seven." "We got off the freeway and drove here on the regular streets." "Yet you are almost an hour and a half late." "It's a long drive, and it took me a while to convince Jacob to get off the freeway." "I'm sure." "What? You don't believe us?" Eleanor stared down Spencer with her steel colored eyes; a hard soul piercing stare. Jacob tried not to pay attention, to not fall under the woman's spell. "I'm sure you have work to do, so why are you standing in my lobby trying to start an argument?" "I'm sorry, ma'am. It won't happen again." Spencer broke eye contacted and started walking towards the main elevator. Jacob followed suit, and felt a wave of cold air penetrate his body, despite the lack of air currents. Once in the elevator, he turned around to find Eleanor staring right at him. Thankfully the doors closed, almost an instant later. Spencer turned to Drake with a look of anger, "Dude, why didn't you say anything?" "I don't know. She scares me?" A look of total disgust spread over Spencer's face, "She scares you. You are a man, how can you be scared of her?" "Her eyes are terrifying. Besides you caved." "Because I didn't have any back up." The elevator doors sprang open and the duo walked out still arguing, until they reached their separate offices. Spencer left in a huff complaining that Jacob needed to grow a spine. After an hour somebody knocked on Jacob's door. "Come in." "Jacob do you have a moment," asked Melinda, a slender nearly flat chested woman, with brown eyes and brown hair. "What do you need?" "All the electronics in the building are freaking out, and there isn't a single IT person anywhere." "I can't really help you with that." "Actually I just wanted to know if your stuff is acting up." "Let me check, I haven't done anything other than power on my monitor." Jacob typed in his login information and waited for the screen to finish loading. Just before the Windows logo disappeared, the screen cut off, then returned to the login screen. He again typed in the required information, but nothing appeared on the monitor. "That's weird." "Check your phone; I was having problems with mine." Jacob pulled out his phone, unlocked it, and tapped the internet app. The camera app opened up instead. He closed it, and again tried tapping the internet app, only for the calendar app to open. "The wrong apps are opening." "Mine's basically just a brick, it won't do anything." "That is..." Jacob stopped mid-sentence upon taking a look at Melinda. Her breasts were no longer A cups, but instead appeared to be rather full C cups. Gone was the thin almost stick like appearance from ten minutes beforehand, and in its place an hourglass. An hourglass with generous bottom curves and a top seemingly still developing. Her lips curled in a snarl, as she realized Jacob was staring. "...strange." A button from her blouse popped right off and hit, Jacob square in the forehead. Melinda was stunned. She looked at Jacob then down at her breasts and yelped. "Oh my god. My breasts. My breasts are huge. Are...are those my hips? I need a doc," another button pops off and hits Jacob, hit time in the eye. "Jacob are you alright? That wasn't supposed to happen. I mean...god I don't know." She was paralyzed with fear, afraid to approach. Jacob sat in his chair rubbing his injured eye for several seconds until he heard a tearing sound. With his good eye, he saw Melinda's breasts grow to the point of no return. They destroyed the confines of her bra and proceeded to completely popping all the upper buttons on her blouse. The poor woman desperately attempted to cover her abnormally large areolas, as she fled down the hall. Jacob rose from his seat, wanting to wash his eye out; he suddenly felt dizzy. Disoriented, he started rushing to the door. Through his right eye, he saw the sleeves of his shirt were several inches too short. He lacked the time to stop his momentum, and plowed headfirst into the doorway before crumpling to the floor. "Jacob, Jacob. Oh dude what happened to you?" asked a frantic looking Spencer. "I'm not sure. I think I somehow grew," he responded as Spencer offered a hand. Up Jacob went, and up, until he was nearly a foot taller than his 5'10 friend. Through the pain in his eye and forehead, Jacob saw the height difference and became started. He stumbled over his feet and fell forward into Spencer. "Whoa dude, I got ya." "Thanks. Hey you are not Spencer." "What of course I am. Dude you should lie down, there's some blood running down your head." Jacob could feel something running down his face, lots of it, and yet he couldn't focus on the flowing liquid. The stranger standing in front of him, sounded like Spencer and had Spencer's clothes, but he wasn't Spencer. His man had red hair, green eyes, a triangle jawline, dark stubble, and the body of a power lifter. The shoulders were far too massive, the thighs and arms too bulbous, but most prominent was the gut. Like the rest of his body, the gut was visible through several tears in the man's clothes, it looked like a beach ball with ridges. Like somebody inflated Spencer's six pack, by pumping air under the skin to see how far it would stretch. "You can't be Spencer. He is blonde with an athletic build." The man cranked up his head, "Obviously I know that, I'm Spencer." The man started to help Jacob lie down, but used too much force and slammed Jacob into the floor. "Jacob I'm sorry, I don't know my own strength anymore. I don't know anything anymore. Everyone is transforming; growing, shrinking, gaining weight, losing weight, changing hair color, changing eye color, the list just goes on and on. And you're bleeding. Come on let’s get you to the bathroom." The stranger grabs the injured Jacob by the waist and starts guiding him to the bathroom. Still disoriented, Jacob can hear screaming from all over the fifth floor. A naked woman holding two clipboards to her Amazonian body runs past them. Behind her runs and elven woman, short and doll like. Near the bathroom there is man or beast, crawled up in the beetle position. The duo couldn't help but watch as when they recognized the man as Mr. Williams, the seventy-year-old senior manager, balled up on the floor crying. Most of the dense white hair covering his body suddenly fell off, the remaining hair turned pitch black, a dense bush sprouted on the his head. The leathery skin covering his body came alive, all the marks and imperfections slowly disappeared leaving behind pearly white skin, completely blemish free. A lifetime of bacon, pasta, cheese, and beer disappeared in a matter of minutes; the excess skin shrank away, leaving the man looking anorexic. That didn't last. The tissues under the skin started expanding and as his bones began reshaping his body; wide shoulders to go with a narrow waist, and high cheekbones to complement an angular jawline and deep set eyes. Muscles stacked together form the impressive six pack and solid arms of a French underwear model. However the man crawled up on the floor could never be an underwear model, not without facing accusations of stuffing his underwear. A pair of lemon sized testicles and a soft six by four penis sort of dangled out in the air, as Mr. Williams straightened himself out. The dark black hair on his scalp grew longer. The pitch black hair on his head and brows, matched his treasure trail; all of it contrasted with his bright baby blue eyes. The man was no longer seventy; he was probably 22 at the most. Williams stared at his body, then at the lanky giant, and power lifter before running off, sprouting wood. "Spencer what was that?" "What I was saying before. Everyone is transforming, though I don't know why that guy was naked to begin with." Spencer pushed open the restroom door and half dragged Jacob inside. It was difficult getting Jacob's head into the sink on account of his new height. After two minutes of struggling, Spencer gave up; he forced Jacob to his knees and shoved the man's head under running water. "Here press these against your head." Jacob grabbed a wad of water towels out of Spencer's large and calloused hands, and firmly pressed against the gash on his head. The pain and dizziness subsided. His brain began thinking again, rationalizing, trying anything to make sense of the situation. He stood up to his full height. "Spencer you are taller." The thick man managed to grow four or five inches during the walk to the restroom. He looked as if somebody had taken a picture, clicked on the corner and stretched it out. No apparent loss of muscle or fat due to the height increase. "Holy shit you're right. Fuck my face itches, it's on fire." He rushed to a sink and started splashing water on his face to no effect. No fire, other than a dense red bread of fire red hair to go with his the brighter eyebrows and eyelashes. His bottom lip became fatter, the top lip thinner. The nose bridge flattened a bit, the end extended a little ways downward, past the nostrils. Something happened to his ears, but whatever changes occurred where hidden by a thick lion like mane of dark red hair. The gut started expanding again. Growing and growing outward, the six abs on the surface managed to cut deeper and deeper with each passing second. His shirt tore, his pants and underwear tore, and so did his socks. Suddenly the restroom seemed too small. Spencer's gut and pecs bulged out about the same distance. His arms were probably larger than Mr. Williams' chest; his legs were definitely larger than the pretty boy's body. He was a massive wall of muscle covered with a padding of fat. Despite being five or six inches taller than Spencer, Jacob felt incredibly small in his presence. Spencer just seemed to overflow with overwhelming power and strength. For several seconds his body continued to swell like a balloon. "I didn't want this. I don't want to be fat," screamed Spencer has he brought his hands to the sink and knocked it from the wall. It crashed on his feet, but Spencer didn't react. Surely it hurt, though his face didn't even show the faintest sign of pain. It showed excitement. Spencer stepped away from the demolished mess, giving Jacob a good view of his genitals; the carpet matched the drapes. The equipment was probably larger than Mr. Williams', but it looked smaller given the power lifter style frame. Spencer gripped the veiny shaft and started jerking off. "This is amazing. Oh yeah. Fuck yeah. I'm so hot. I'm so fucking hot." Without warning the guy just started humping a sink until he destroyed it too. Due to lack to the lack of experience with his new body, Spencer didn't last long enough to destroy a third sink. He shot a load right into the mirror in front of himself, and kept shooting until collapsing to his knees. "Dude I feel like I can cum forever. Diana, I need to find Diana." As Spencer passed, Jacob couldn't help but notice the difference in height; four inches, maybe more in his favor. He didn't open the door; the red haired giant pushed it, tearing it off the hinges. It flew across the hall and slammed into the opposing wall. 'Holy fuck,' thought Jacob. He could not believe his eyes, as his best friend turned into the world's biggest bull. He couldn't believe the strength of the bull, to tear down a sink, rape another, and to send a door flying. It was surreal, it wasn't possible, and yet the overbearing stench of his cum served as reminder that it had happened. Through the cum, cut the smell of fresh blood. Jacob looked at the paper towels clutched to his forehead, all dark red and dripping blood. He threw them on the floor, and stepped over the debris, to look in a mirror. His face was his, though it was covered in blood. Turning the cold water knob, while still staring at the reflection he frantically stared splashing water on his face. The blood slid off, revealing the gash had healed. No scar, no mark, not even the slightest hint of redness. He continued to stare at his reflection for several minutes expecting some sort of change to occur. It didn't; not after five minutes, not even after ten minutes. He stepped out of the bathroom and started walking around. The entire fifth floor was a mess. Papers thrown about, plants overturned, office supplies littered on the floor, and holes of various sizes in all the walls. "Jacob? Jacob is that you?" Jacob turned around, "Yeah it's me," he said to an Asian woman. 'There aren't any Asian women in his department,' thought Jacob. "Jacob, it's me Trisha," said the woman. Trisha was a brown haired woman, with hazel eyes, and pear build. She was motherly, probably because she had five children and seven grandchildren. The new Trisha most definitely didn't have the body of grandmother. Her hips were wider than the average woman's, but her large bust completely overshadowed them, giving her an apple build. The build was only further accented by the wide square shoulders of a seasoned Olympic swimmer. Her round face was distinctively Chinese, but that body was too out of place, far too big standing at six feet tall. "Please tell me you're in the right mind," said Trisha. "I am." "Good." "Do you know what's going on?" "Well, when I saw Williams I thought the transformation changed a person to their youthful prime, but he was made more muscular and more handsome than I remember. Then I started seeing other people. Diana became a Kate Upton look-a-like with a fuller figure. Rick shrank from 6'2 to 5'5, and now looks like a miniature incredible hulk. Spencer is a red haired giant power lifter, Samantha is an elf, Gina an Amazon, Anna a bodybuilder, Jessica and Rose look like supermodels, Greg and Tim look like underwear models, Silvia, Melinda and few other just grew giant breasts and experienced minor changes. I'm Asian. Honestly I don't have the faintest idea what's going on." "I need a moment to process." "You don't have a moment. All the electronics are malfunctioning, the doors and windows are all locked, we can't leave the fifth floor, and to make everything worse half the staff is fucking all over the place." "What?" "Richard is like fifty now and encouraged Rick and Jessica a threesome with him. Spencer and Diana are destroying everything in sight. Gina and Silvia are taking turns with Greg, and Troy won't stop touching himself. "There's nothing we can do. I am not about to get between Spencer and Diana if that's where you were going with this." "Of course not," she snapped angrily, "Look we need get out of his building now." "You just said everything is locked." "I know. And just to make matters even worse, none of the windows are breaking." "Are you fucking kidding me?" "We've tried everything, they won't break." "Damn, it looks like we'll need Spencer then." "Why?" "He is stronger than he looks. He completely destroyed two sinks and tore a door of its hinges without even trying. Maybe Rick is super strong too. We need them both." "I hate to do this to you, but you need to get him away from Diana. Do you understand?" "Unfortunately, I do." "I'll handle Rick." "Good luck." "Good luck." As Jacob ran around the broken office, he saw a muscular body lying unconscious amid a stack of bodies. Closer examination showed the body was female; Anna, unless another woman suddenly became a bodybuilder. He saw young man with a lean and muscular body thrusting his hips into the anus of an elven woman. Three statuesque women huddled together in a circle, attempting to tie together torn clothes to protect their modesty. Searching the entire floor for the thick red head turned out much harder than imagined. He wasn't anywhere in sight. Spencer was a screamer, and Jacob couldn't hear anything resembling the man's screams. He heard the voices of others having sex, but not Spencer. Refusing to give up, Jacob started running. He fell again and again, due to the lack of coordination, but he constantly rose to his feet. After half an hour of searching he saw them. Spencer had Diana wrapped in his meaty arms; he was walking around, bumping into walls, plants, and even other people. When he stopped it was only to destroy a wall in fashion. The monster pinned Diana against a wall, and began thrusting the entire length of his phallus into her, putting his entire weight into each thrust. On the fourth thrust, the muscles in his ass tensed momentarily and then expanded in one jaw dropping moment. He shoved her right through the wall, slammed her into the ground and kept thrusting away. She screamed in agony, but he didn't listen. All Spencer wanted was his prize. His body began to swell, either due to receiving a pump or another growth sequence, and he thrust into Diana with such force that something actually cracked. She screamed, he roared into her face and deposited the largest load in his life into her. Eventually he pulled out of her nearly dead body and walked away. "S...Spencer, um are uh are you..." "I'm great man." "What about her?" "She'll be alright. Just needs some time to recover and what not." "She isn't fine. There is no way in hell is fine. I heard something snap, she might have broken a bone or something. You almost killed her." "Dude relax, Diana and I have a special relationship. She loves pain. Both giving and receiving. Yeah I'll admit I was more forceful that I should have been, but when she wakes she'll want more." "I don't believe you, nobody could possibly enjoy that." Spencer gave a smirk, "Diana enjoys it. This is what I mean by you're too intense. You can't believe that somebody likes rough sex. It's too weird, too out of the ordinary for you. That's probably why you haven't finished transforming." "What are you talking about?" "I'll be honest with you. When I was a kid, I loved watching wrestling. I wanted to be big and strong like all the muscular superstars. Then one day, I saw a different kind of wrestler, the big power lifter type, with mountains of muscle hidden under thick layers of fat. At first I thought they were gross, but when I watched them throw around the bodybuilder types like rag dolls, my mind changed real quick. I've always wanted to be massive, but it just wasn't in my genes. I thought the fitness model look was pretty okay, so I settle for that. Then today happened and now I'm huge, just like I always wanted." "What about the red hair?" "The hair makes me look like a beast, a wild dangerous beast, which I am. I got the body, the face, the hair, and the genitals of a muscle beast." "It isn't possib...." "You're right it isn't possible, but it happened. Just think about it for a moment. Williams was an ancient dinosaur, now he looks a model and is probably younger than either of us. Anna over there has a muscle fetish, in case you were wondering. Almost all the women have D cups or bigger. All the guys have huge dicks. Do you know how much men and women care about tits and dicks? I wanted a large beastly body, now I have it. I wanted a bigger dick, now I have it." "It can't be that simple." "Of course it can, at least today it is. So then Jacob what is your fantasy?" "What?" "Come on man, don't play dumb. What is your fantasy? You like being tall, don't you? You believe in the height, because there are plenty of people who are 6'10, 6'11, and seven feet even. It's unusual, sure, but it happens." "That's crazy, you are crazy." "Dude yesterday we were body twins, 5'10 at 180lbs. Today I'm at least 6'5 at like 400lbs, and you're 6'10 still at 180lbs. It's time to give into your fantasy. You only have one chance so don't mess it up. Come on man grow." "What about Rick he was 6'4, why would he shrink down to 5'5?" "It was probably to see a ‘how the other half lives’ type of thing. The guy is wider than I am, and it would look amazing at his previous height." "But he shrank." "Yeah, maybe for the shock value; it adds to the fantasy." "Explain that." "Okay. It's like short people wanting to be tall. As insane as it may seem to you, there are tall people who want to be short. So anyways if Rick had kept his height, he'd be scary or disturbing as fuck to people not into muscle. As a short guy, he's not so intimidating or shocking. Now stay with me for a bit. Take a group of people and tell them to elect a leader, chances are they'll look to the tallest person in the room for leadership. People gravitate towards tall people, because tall people warrant respect. A similar thing occurs with muscle mass. Athletes, dancers, models and various other occupations go hand in hand with desirable amounts of muscle; most people think bodybuilders are over the top and don't take their passion or sport seriously. Rick wanted to put himself in a position where people didn't respect or take him seriously." "Now you are just fucking with me." "No it's great. I saw Richard trying to snag a threesome with Jessica and Rick. Richard is like 6'2 maybe 6'3 and buff, like a smaller version of me. He's like a stereotypical old muscle guy, thick arms, chest, legs, and gut, and hairy too. The dwarf was being all submissive, agreed right away with everything he said. Something about Rick was off; I couldn't look away from the site. Rick was eating Jessica, and Richard was about to stick his cock in Rick's ass. This is where shit gets crazy. Rick's ass cheeks are spread out, when suddenly he rolls away, and knocks Richard to the ground. He starts whispering in the old man's ear, next thing I know Richard is his hands and knees begging Rick to be gentle. He wasn't." "So his fantasy was to be short and wide, so he could dominate tall people?" "All people, but especially tall people." "That can't be real." "It is real just accept it," the giant starts bouncing his massive meaty pecs. Dozens upon dozens of pounds of thick muscles began jumping up and jump menacingly. Suddenly he went into a most muscular pose. Despite the thick layers of fat, all the muscles were clearly visible; his upper body nearly doubled in size. Still flexing, "This is real dude, now it's time to get into your fantasy." "No, you are just trying to rationalize something that can't be explained." "You still think I'm lying about Diana, don't you?" "Well some nasty bruises are starting to develop around her vagina." "I'll show you that I didn't force anything on her." Spencer swaggered past Jacob to Anna. During the course of the conversation she regained consciousness. He supported her head and whispered into her ear. Then he positioned himself at her vaginal lips; no foreplay or anything. His penis was still coated with his and Diana's cum, he began thrusting his hips. Gently, after a few minutes he became more forceful, though still relatively gentle. "See dude, we've been going at it for almost twenty minutes and I haven't broken anything. I'm not smashing her into anything, because she isn't into that. Diana over there is a masochist, she fucking loves pain. It's that simple." Not wanting to watch his friend have sex Jacob left the area. He watched his fellow workers, even the ones trying to fashion themselves something to cover their nudity, seemed happy. Nearly everyone wore a smile. Some women even complemented each other on their new appearances. Jacob stopped to ask several about their transformations. They repeated the less graphic details of Spencer's explanation almost perfectly. Jacob began to believe them, but a sliver of reluctance refused to leave his brain, so a coworker directed him to Rick and Richard. Rick sat on the edge of the conference table, legs hanging off the side. Lying on his lap was a cum covered Richard, ass hanging out in the air. How the table managed not to tip was astonishing on its own. Rick was tiny, maybe even less than 5'5. His chest was unquestionably larger than he was tall. Unlike Spencer, Rick had very little if any fat on his body. Beneath every square inch of his skin, was probably a solid foot of muscle. Every muscle and vein was overly pronounced, ready at any moment to rip apart his skin. The simple act of breathing, made it seem like his muscles would rupture the skin. "It looks like we have guest, and you didn't say hello boy," said Rick. "I'm sorry daddy," replied Richard in an almost fearful tone. "Sorry isn't good enough boy," shouted Rick. He raised his monstrously large right hand, flexed his arm for the guest, then opened his palm and spanked Richard. The sound was truly deafening. It shook all the muscles in Richards’s ass cheeks, it shook the table, and it parted the air to generate powerful currents. It was unbelievably painful, like a concentrated car collision in the form of a single palm. Jacob noticed that Richard was crying, but he also noticed that ejaculate was dripping down Rick's inhuman left quad. "Now what do you say boy?" asked Rick with a stern tone. "Hello Mr. Blount," said Richard in between pants. "Hello" "Good boy. Oh sorry Jacob, I'm not taking to you, I'm talking to little Dick here." "I wanted to talk to you about the recent transformations." "Ah right away. Dick give daddy a kiss and then be on your way." Timidly, the 50 year old man reached up and kissed his master of the lips. Then hairy beast jumped to his legs and began walking away, but not before Rick could deliver another spank. Richard jumped up in surprise and rushed out of the room. "What the fuck was that?" "That was my fantasy." "A mock incestual relationship with a man twenty years older than you? You sick fuck." The miniature hulk gave a hearty laugh and showed his brilliant white teeth. As he sucked in air, his diagram expanded, which in turn expanded his overly large torso even farther. For a second Jacob could have sworn he actually saw ruptures in the skin. "Calm down. That's just the dynamic in this relationship. You said it yourself; he is twenty years older than me." "Was that his fantasy?" "Yeah I think it was. His fantasy probably didn't involve so much spanking or rough sex, but the premise is the same. He supposedly wanted to be the dominate male partner, and in his mind that meant being older, 6'3, and 320lbs. Unfortunately, it takes more than height, muscle, and age to be dominate. It's a state of mind and he didn't realize or have that." "And you did?" "I had before the transformation." "Then why tran..." "Transform all. It's simple really. I thought it would be fun. Little guy bossing around the big dominant alpha male or bringing the stuck up bitch down a peg or two." "You are hardly little." "Well in terms of height I am. The muscles are bonus. They can add or take away from the situation. Look man I don't know why this happened, but believe me I am enjoying it. I'd rather not explain to my roommates why I'm suddenly 5'3 and weight 450lbs. However, I wouldn't complain about this being a permanent change." "Okay say I've accepted this whole fantasy coming to real life, how can you possibly weight 450lbs? There would be no way for you to move." "The weight is just a guess, going off my personal fantasy of course, and I don't really care for the science or magic behind it. So tell me, if you believe why haven't you transformed?" "Because I don't have a fantasy in mind." "Well when you do, I'd love to see it. Dick, come back here," he smiles, "In case you still have doubts. Dick walked back into the room and immediately took his position on Rick's lap. Rick placed his hand on Dick's lower back. It was out of proportion to the mini hulk's body, two maybe three times too large for his frame. He removed the hand and curled all but one finger. It alone was significantly larger a jumbo sized hotdog. He took the finger and started playing with the Dick's ass. "You want to leave don't you? This is what I was talking about, the mentality to dominate. Of course I could never dominate you into having sex, but little Dick here loves it. His fantasy isn't to dominate, it's to be dominated. He just gave himself a bigger body so his daddy could enjoy it more. Isn't that right little Dick?" "Yes, sir." "Good, now then." There was no warning. Rick shoved his muscle bound finger into Dick's entrance, and forcefully began exploring. Dick's entire body started bucking wildly. Rick placed his left arm around Dick's back and slipped his right calf over Dicks flapping hair legs to regain control. Rick applied more force to his finger; Dick responded accordingly but couldn't move at all due to Rick's pin. The master eventually removed his left and to grab some cloth behind him. Then wadded the cloth into a ball and stuffed it into his toy's mouth. "Will he be alright?" "Naturally, this is our fantasy," the mini hulk somehow managed to stick in yet another finger. Jacob turned away, "How strong are you?" "Why are you changing the subject?" "Trisha and I wanted to get some muscle before attempting to knock down a door or something." "Yeah she told me. It didn't work, not matter how hard I pushed it didn't budge." "Maybe if you and Spencer tried together." Rick momentarily pulled out of Dick and tossed the big man on the floor. The paper skinned hulk walked over the east wall of the conference room and rammed his forefinger through the drywall. To really drive the point home he started punching through the material, taking out massive chunks with each strike. With the last punch, he left his arm in the wall and started walking. His arm tore away at the building, as the man walked around the room. There was no resistance to be offered by the drywall, none at all. Casually, he returned to his sitting position on the conference table and waited for Dick to resume his position. "Listen Jacob, I just punched through the wall like it was tissue paper. Those doors and windows aren't gonna break anytime soon. You know, I'm amazed you can talk so casually as I finger a guy right in front of you." "You act like you've done it before." "Dozens of times." "Ordinary this would disturb me, but for some reason today it does not." "That's what Trisha said earlier, before joining in." "So the three of you?" "No, little Dick here strictly prefers dick. I on the other hand, am more flexible. Speaking of which little Dick here is nice and loose again. So unless you want..." "I'm going." Jacob walked out of the room, but caught a full view the reflection of a mirror. Dick was on the floor, Rick was plowing him hard. So hard, that with each thrust Dick was actually pushed forward several inches. 'That is going to lead to serious rug burn,' thought Jacob. Jacob continued walking around the floor. Most people had settled down, and some had even returned to working. He found Spencer still having 'gentle' sex with Anna; despite her own impressive size and power she appeared small and frail wrapped in his large arms. Diana was still half dead. He continued to wander around and by accident found the new Troy, a perfect replica of a monstrously vascular comic book character. Like Williams, he appeared to fantasize about a male model body, though with an extra thirty or so pounds of muscle. "I see you are enjoying yourself." "Yeah man." "How come you aren't out with everyone else?" "Jacob, I'm so ripped and flexible now that I tomorrow I won't have a reason to leave my house." "Assuming the transformation is permanent." "I know what's behind it, and I'll make sure the transformation is permanent." Jacob couldn't believe his hears. Troy knew the secret and instead of telling anybody he was caressing his abs and flicking a long hard nipple. "How do you know? What is going on here?" "Actually I'm not entirely sure, but I have a pretty good idea." "Well hurry up." "It's Eleanor." "What?" "Dude she is a witch or some kind of reality warper." "Well given all the crazy shit that has happened in the last few hours, I can believe in witches and reality warper, but what makes you so sure she is behind this?" "I've worked in this building for the last fifteen years, and during those fifteen years anybody who managed to piss that woman off, suddenly disappeared or has their life ruined." "Well I've worked here for two years, and Eleanor is definitely intimidating, but I've never seen hear actively go after somebody." "You've just never seen her work. She is the receptionist, okay. When some cocky little shit walks in, she is the first person they deal with. When an arrogant business person or lawyer walks in, she has to deal with them. All she has to do is stare at them with her cold icy eyes, and suddenly all the bravado, all the swagger, the self-importance, it all goes away. The most powerful and influential people in the city are completely terrified of her. The mayor's assistants don't even come here anymore; they send the interns. Speaking of which, do you remember Christine Hath?" "She was the girl who only showed up for one day of her internship." "Yeah, that's because on that day she pissed off Eleanor. From what I heard, Eleanor was going through some documents on a tablet, when Christine showed up with a manila folder. Eleanor took the folder and went through the documents, and found a couple that needed to be signed. She told the girl, 'You need to get these signed,'' and handed the folder back. The girl was like, 'I'm done for the day. You get them signed,' and then took the folder and slipped it between Eleanor's fingers and the tablet, before basically skipping away. The day afterwards human resources gets a call, Christine's mother saying her daughter wouldn't be able to continue her internship due to medical problems. Last month, Melinda apparently saw her at the high school. Her face was covered in a thick layer of makeup and looked really bumpy. Mel tried to talk to her, but she ran away; a student told her Christine had suddenly developed huge boils all over her face and body that refused to go away." "Well everything that's happened today, I guess that's believable. Anyways why are you so certain that Eleanor, with all her magical reality warping powers, will allow you to keep your body after today? Or even live?" "Because I can’t lose all this." He stood up and began posing. His body was simply amazing; hard and round in the all the right places. His arms looked like somebody stuffed in two hemispheres and some lamb chops in a peach colored bag. His waist was either too small, or his pecs and legs too large. Though the most impressive thing about his body wasn't the muscle mass or the shear vascularity, it was the penis. Probably eight inches long and five inches around, flaccid; most likely the largest in the office when erect. "My wife is going to love playing with her new toy." "Yeah. Well good luck with getting the transformation to keep." Jacob left Troy's office before the well-endowed meat bag could begin growing erect. He wandered around the office some more, to find Spencer having anal sex with Anna. Her body was covered in his ejaculate; she moaned in pleasure as she attempted to meet his thrusts. Back in the conference room, Dick was lying on his back, legs pointed straight up in the air. Rick was on his knees for once, brutally shoving a thick log into Dick's anus. Jacob eventually returned to his office, and noticed there was no blood on the floor or on the doorway. "I see you're back," said a woman. Jacob turned around, nobody was in sight. He looked around for several seconds for the source of the icy voice. Suddenly he felt a cold finger touch his lower back; he turned to find Eleanor staring up at him. She was completely unchanged from earlier. "So, are you a witch or what?" She smiled, it was beautiful and apocalyptic at the same it. "The former." "Are you responsible for this?" "I am." "Why did you do this?" "Boredom." "Boredom." "How? How is any of this even possible?" "Well as you now know I am a witch. Despite my appearance, I am actually 200 years old, and for a magic user age is power. Of course old age also leads to wisdom, which typically equates to power if not versatility. So anyways, I used my magic to enter every one's mind and pulled out their physical fantasy and then brought it to fruition." "Is it really that simple?" "Heavens no. I had to use my own power to enter the minds of twenty different people and search for each person's unique fantasy. To build the fantasies, I had to use my magic and the ambient magic in the environment to convert mass from one form to another. To top it all off, I decided to give you all the power. That way the transformations were gradual and more entertaining. Of course my explanation is still too simple." "So you did this all for your own entertainment?" "I had to. Only a fifth of the workforce showed up today. I didn't have anything to do, or anything to pass the time with." "Why didn't you just use the internet?" "I don't think you understand me. I'm a witch, why would I waste my time watching kittens play with yarn, when I can do all this." "Surely you are abusing your power." "I invented the concept of being old and not giving a damn about anything that I don't care about. Plus, I'm the leading expert in human, beast, and demon transformation, so I can pretty much do whatever I want." "Which is transforming people into their personal fantasies for your amusement." "That was just because I was because I had nothing to do. Besides nobody got hurt or died or anything. And because I'm in such a good mood today, I decided to work a little extra magic. So anybody who wants to keep their new appearance may do so." "So you can make the changes permanent." "Yes I can, but usually I don't. You see the world has changed greatly over the past few decades. If I leave you all like this, people will ask questions. Imaging going to get your license renewed and explaining why you are a full foot taller. Or Williams explaining why he is twenty-one instead of seventy. So because you all provided so much entertainment today, I will cast a spell on you. Every person you think of will have their memories of you rewritten to believe that you grew into your current form. This spell is very powerful, and it will change your appearance in any photograph or video, anything with your image will change." "That seems too good to be true." "It's not. The spell will only change memories and images, but everything else will be as it was. For example, Rick is now 5’3; there is no way for him to reach the gas or brake pedals on his truck. Changing memories doesn't help the fact that Williams is now twenty-one, or that Trisha is now twenty-eight year old Mulan with E cups, or that Richard made himself fifty. The birthdays don't match up; if they want to keep their bodies that means giving up their old lives and starting anew. Fortunately the rest of you didn't change your ages, so a few memories switches will fix everything." "Okay, so I've finally accepted this whole fantasy coming to real life thing, but I haven't shrank yet." "Yes I can see that. You were satisfied with your appearance, and only wanted to know how it felt to be taller. The magic took an extreme effect because you only wanted one trait changed. You wanted to be six feet even, but the magic added an extra tens. Tell me; were you comfortable in your old body?" "Yes." "Are you comfortable in your new body?" "Not right now. I mean if I had time to adjust to my longer limbs, maybe I would be." "Would you be comfortable in any body?" "I guess, eventually?" "Well then you won’t mind if I take this opportunity to change your body myself." She raises her hands, white smoke begins to swirl around them, and then it happened. Jacob grew another two inches taller, bringing him to an even seven feet tall. His clothes exploded off his body, as the meaty muscles under his skin expanded. They grew and grew, until he felt bloated. However he wasn't bloated. He was completely shredded; every muscle group was developed to the point where it prominent poked out of his body. His chest alone was easily the size of his desk; the skin even matched the brown shade of the wood. His traps were unbelievably high, almost to the height of his head. His arms weren't even recognizable as arms anymore. They were earthy mountains, covered with trenches and a vast network of train tracks. His legs were, naturally larger than is arms, and followed the same structure, but to a more extreme level. The witch summoned a large mirror. Jacob saw his body and jumped back in shock. He didn't even look seven feet tall, he looked eight or nine. His chest was unquestionably the largest chest on the planet. The six pack he had worked for, was still there, only larger and with deeper cuts. The most shocking thing was his genitals; large round potatoes with a fittingly large tube steak. Once he got over the shock of his body, he looked into this face. Same dark brown hair and ears, but everything had changed slightly. His nose was straighter, his jawline board and more angular, his eyes were amber colored with a gold ring around the edge. "What did you do?" he asked in his new baritone voice. "You said you would be comfortable in any body, so I gave you a new one." "I thought this was supposed to be my fantasy." "Well I decided to make it your wife's." "She isn't into this kind of thing." "I noticed. She liked your old body, but did desire a bit more muscle and height. The magic was once again extreme in your case." "Will you change me back?" "No. At least not right away. You said yourself that would probably be comfortable in any body, so try it out for a few days. If it doesn't work, I will return you to your original body." "Um, okay." "Good. Now then I've decided to close up early. You'll find a set of extra clothes in your bottommost left drawer. Now if you excuse me, I have to inform some others of my decision. By the way can I trust you to keep this a secret?" "Sure." "Good then I will leave your memories intact. Bye now." "Bye." Jacob checked his drawer and true to the witch’s word was a set of clothes: a button down shirt, briefs, shorts, and a pair of sandals. Jacob almost tore the briefs as he attempted to raise them up beyond his quads, small tears actually did appear in the fabric. It was stretched tightly in all directions everywhere, except at his waist. The shorts were easier to put on they slipped almost perfectly over his quads. He pulled a string on the waist band and tied it, then tucked over two feet of excess string into his shorts. After several minutes he found, the shirt would only button enough to cover his abs, leaving his desk like pecs exposed to the whole world. His arms, though covered, might as well have been naked. As he left his personal office, he noticed how his pecs bounced with each step. They jiggled and flexed, the veins danced across the twin surfaces. He found his entire body seemed to have a muscle seizure with every step. The striations grew and deepened, the veins sometimes didn’t stop popping out even after he stopped moving. Jacob was so in awe of his body that he didn’t notice that the entire fifth floor was completely clean and fixed. No papers thrown about, no toppled plants, no broken walls, absolutely nothing out of order except large muscles and big breasts. He found Spencer and the pair walked outside, complementing each other’s new bodies. As they approached the Subaru, Jacob remembered something the witch said. Everyone’s memories had been altered, but not the life decisions he had made. Jacob and Spencer stared at the Subaru and wondered how one, let alone both of them would fit inside.

Hey guys! Hope everyone has been enjoying the new forum like I have. If you haven't already bookmarked my brand new website, I posted this story earlier today. It's been a long time since I've written a macro story, and while it still mostly focuses on muscle, I'm sure there is going to be something for everyone in this story. Enjoy! ******************************** It was strange to say that someone would want to outgrow their own home, but high school senior Zachary Parker wanted exactly that. He stood there naked in the bathroom, a giant of nothing but muscle and young teen sweat, eyeing his shower like it was the competition. He knew today just had to be the day. The young teen was teetering on 400 pounds of solid muscle after this mornings workout. His body felt so incredibly pumped, so unstoppably huge. He knew immediately as he put one foot into the shower that things were definitely different. The small growths that he had been experiencing were nothing compared to the explosion of muscle that had happened earlier. There was no telling how huge he had grown this morning (with a smashed scale now sitting in his bedroom). All he knew was that the shower began to make this horrific cracking noise, the pipes inside the walls strained, and even the tiles began shattering like glass. “It’s finally happening...” Zach snickered. It was actually almost hard for the muscle teen not to get aroused at this point. He had been fantasizing about this moment for so long, he almost didn’t even know where to start. He figured he would do something that would typically be innocent, washing his body for example. There was almost that sinister chuckle as he popped of the cap. There was no way the shower going to hold, just no fucking way. As he began lathering up his mountainous hairy pectorals, the first bolt blew off the wall, bouncing off his 70 inch muscle chest. Zach just laughed and continued casually washing his chest, hearing the strain of the metal framework, the impending destruction of the all the grout and plaster holding everything together. With a flinch of his giant hairy legs, a flex his mountainous arms and barndoor-wide back, he triggered another small growth. It was almost frightful how comical the young god thought the whole thing was. There was such an overwhelming amount of joy he felt feeling his body squeeze and fill the tiny space, just like when he had outgrown the houses small door frames. With barely any effort, and what felt like pounds of muscle packing onto his frame, his shoulders and legs become wedged and almost stuck between the showers bending frame... STRRRAIIINN CRACK Zach watched in amazement. The cheap walls around him collapsed to the floor like they were nothing to him; childrens architecture in the face of a real god. With his body now totally unleashed, completely exposed, there was almost a part of Zach that wanted to just keep growing until the he filled the entire bathroom. A fun thought, bringing him a small chuckle. He figured though he should probably wait, he wanted to enjoy every minute of this. He arrogantly stepped on the broken shower door and crushed the plastic frame beneath his feet. After the shower it was onto the clothes, his third favorite part of the morning. Everything he wore was a size XXL and up, yet it still seemed to be no match for his hulking muscle boy body. The once super sized varsity football tank barely even reached the upper part of the teens hairy brick plated abs. It was all caught between the teens boulder sized hairy pecs which seemed to almost stretch over a foot off his breast cage, nipples the size of fucking pancakes, the most immense canyon of hair and muscle. Next came his fully tailored briefs, white just the way he liked them. The pouch was specifically designed for the teens heavy nut suck and enormously large foot long cock. Truth be told though, as crazy as it sounded, his manhood was almost starting to look comically average when compared to the size of his gigantic muscle body, small even. Even though Zach was a little disappointed that it had seemed to stop growing like it once did, there was a small satisfaction knowing that he managed to make MELON sized testicles look small. By the time Zach got downstairs for breakfast, he was the definition of obscenity. After his briefs, the giant teen had somehow manage to squeeze himself into his last remaining pair of custom 46X38 jeans. His dad nearly choked on his coffee watching the morning news. Even though he lived with the giant muscle teen twenty four seven, nothing could have prepared him for the way that Zach looked this morning. “You see something you like old man?” Zach taunted, flexing one his gigantic arms. He knew what his dad was looking at, it was the same thing he was always looking out. While his father was mostly straight, he recently learned that the man was a total fag for big muscle arms, and now that his monster teen biceps were a record breaking 28 inches in size, chiseled like some hairy fucking mountain of muscle, engorged in the most disgusting display of vascularity, he knew there was no way his dad would stand a chance. Zach just arrogantly whiffed his own pitts, watching his father's crotch bulge between his jeans. It really was only a matter of time before the old man would crack. Eighteen years old and he was already among some of the biggest muscle studs in the world. He was literally a factory of testosterone, dripping with power, effortlessly packing on more muscle and hair then most bodybuilders could ever dream of. "How b-big are they now s-son...?" His dad could barely ask the question. Zach menacingly thumped a little closer. It must have been his undersized white tank and swollen blue jeans that was making his dad really whimper today. He knew it really was the perfect choice of outfit to show off his unstoppable growing teenage physique. He never understood why so many muscle men hid beneath their baggy gym clothes all day when they could look like this. The clothes were so tight, so painted onto his super roided out muscle-boy body that you could even see detail in his rock hard nipples and firehose sized cock. After all It was because of this his own old man was literally sitting there in his recliner with a full on erection beneath his jeans; no remorse, no hiding, he had totally lost it over his big muscle boy. The drool just wept from his dad’s lips like an endless river, I mean school girls had more control than this. That’s not to say there wasn’t a small part of Zach that was totally getting off on this moment. After all what son doesn't look forward to totally dwarfing their dad when they grow up. “Why don't you take a guess" Zach finally decided to start, raising one of his meaty muscle boy arm. His triceps hung there like huge hairy slabs of meat, while his bicep, it was like looking at a mountain of muscle, swelling bigger with every passing second. The young teen smirked as his unmatchable and magnificent muscle peak went flexing past his own eye level, swelled beyond his own head, squeezed into his own face. It was long until the freaky mammoth peak reach it's full and daunting size of 28 inches. “O-oh my g-god, LOOK at it!!” His father stuttered pathetically "Ooooh yeah that's right, biceps bigger than your fucking waist!” Zach squeezed his bicep that much bigger. It was then he looked down with a sneer and watched it happen like clock work. His fathers cock, like every other man’s, began throbbing faster and faster between his legs; the size of his young muscles, the enormity of his pits, the sheer stench of his musk, even the straightest of men couldn’t handle it. His dad just shamefully began blowing what had to have been the biggest load of his adult life, right in between his own jeans. He clenched the sides of his armchair as he continued to look up, struggling to hold back his cries of pleasure. "You know I'm going to outgrow this entire house right dad?" “Breakfast!" His mom shouted "Yes!!" Zach said with excitement. The teen rested his giant arm, leaving his now humiliated father to soak in his own shame. The entire house now made that daunting thump as he took each hulking step towards the completely loaded breakfast table. His mother like most mornings had prepared a meal large enough for a whole feast; pancakes, sausage, eggs, bacon, potatoes, all piled up like endless rolling hills, enough for ten people at least. Zach felt his large cock bloat between his monster legs like it always did before a feast. The notion that every bit of this food would soon turn into raw muscle was such a get off. He couldn’t wait to get in there and stuff his face so he could grow even more. “Thanks for breakfast mom” Zach gently kissed her on the forehead "w-wow just look at you this morning" Just like his father, his mom seemed to have an extreme attraction for certain parts of the male physique. For years he had been catching her stare down at his monster muscle thighs and epic bubble butt, but just like his dad, this morning she couldn’t resist from full on “deer in headlights” mode. She was especially glancing at his hefty horse-sized teenage package. Zach smirked having to admit his lower half was ridiculously gigantic, in fact it was almost becoming a struggle to walk. He figured, in the same unorthodox fashion as earlier, that he would give his mother an equally as impressive show. “You like these legs mom?” Zach widened his stand, slowly beginning to flex his guerilla sized thighs. It was only a matter of seconds before the blue denim began to snap and tear along what was probably the most muscular legs in the human race. Zach eagerly watched her awestruck face as the first tear had formed along his right leg. The denim fabric was practically painted onto his skin at this point. You could see everything, absolutely every freaky detail of his monstrously out of control thighs. There wasn't a single doubt that they had to 38 inches of bone crushing hairy muscle, yet there they were growing bigger, beefier! SNAP “Ooooh yeah…” SNAP “Get a load of this mom!!” Zach chuckled like a kid at Christmas. Both seams had blown open, relieving only momentary pressure. Lucky for him though, it was far from over. As the arrogant stud flexed even further, It wasn’t long before the rest of the blue denim threads began snapping away off his jeans like power-lines in a thunderstorm. His mom squealed and covered her mouth as the most monstrous hairy thighs began squeezing out of his large denim jeans. Zach had to keep adjusting his stance wider and wider to accommodate the irregular amount of size his ultimate leg flex was taking on. They already had to be a freaky 39, maybe even 40 inches of solid muscle, biggest on the planet! Within his own two feet spread almost further apart than he could bare, the large bulging zipper that contained his jaw breaking cock BURST open. THUMP His mom fainted. “Is she ok!?” His little brother spoke up, watching the whole spectacle from the large breakfast table. When Zach finally turned around, his little brother could see why there mother fainted. Between his barely held together jeans was the teens giant manhood stretching his white briefs between the gaping zipper hole. The poor kid couldn’t even grasp how anyones cock could ever achieve such size. The enormous and freaky cock head looked bigger than his own fist, a piss slit so huge you could stick your tongue down it. “You know I’m starting to think my clothes aren’t going to last through the day...” That’s all Zach said. He knew his giant cock was tenting his briefs through his jeans, exposed for his little brother to lay his scrawny virgin eyes on, but he didn’t care. He looked back down at the opulent breakfast feast and felt his stomach rumble with immense hunger. He began walking forward, feeling the house truly thump this time. Dishes in the cupboards rattles, the floorboards beneath his giant feet almost bent. He knew colossal thighs must have been approaching near the immobile territory. There was such strain and heft to his footsteps, enough even to make Zach wonder just how much bigger he could grow. As he pulled out one of the chairs, even attempting to sit down almost seemed to be struggle. His thighs were just swollen against one another. He widened his stance once more, wrapped his legs around the specially reinforced seat. You could hear his remaining clothes crack and strain. It was always the sound people heard before the teen would burst through his own clothes, before thousands of more dollars would be spent trying to keep him looking somewhat normal and decent. "How much you want to bet I could eat this whole thing Jeremy?" He said with a cocky grin, watching his little brother poke away at small plate of food. With one of his huge burly hands he lifted one of the serving plates up to his face. His monstrous cock just bulged even bigger underneath his briefs as he gazed his hunger upon 24 deliciously scrambled eggs. With one of the now seemingly small forks on the table he began wolfing them down his throat. Only a few minutes later he moved onto the meats, the potatoes, and finally finished off with the pancakes. Of course with all this new fuel being added to his body, Zach started to slowly grow once more. As he consumed what must have been over 20 pounds of food, what remained of his jeans began tearing away hopelessly. He didn’t even have to flex this time, even move, he was just getting bigger! RIIIIIIIIPPPPPP "Fuck yeah, look me grow little bro!" Zach was so unapologetic. He continued to eat like a beast, packing on muscle faster and faster, scarfing down every last bit of food on the table. He even grabbed his brother left overs and lifted the plate to his mouth, dumping the food into his mouth like some dump trunk, finishing it all off with one loud gulp. SNAP The chair collapsed. With his now unimaginable weight, it sounded as if a bomb went off as he went crashing to the floor. His little brother just squealed as the hardwoods beneath his global butt exploded upward, the dust and plaster from the ceiling went falling to the ground, and the walls and windows surrounding the kitchen cracked; It felt as if a fucking 6.0 earthquake had just hit the house, yet It was really just one teens accidental destruction. Zach just laughed arrogantly, slowly picking himself back up. His tank had ripped free during the incident, and what little denim remained on his legs soon began to rip free as he stood up. Standing there now in just his barley strapped on briefs, Zach looked around realizing he must have now stood almost 7’5”! “I think I’m going to have to start thinking of a new goal with the way this house is shrinking so fast...” Zach laughed deeply. The excitement of his impending demolition of his childhood home was getting him so rock hard he couldn’t bare to stop. Jeremy nearly pissed his pants as his own gigantic brother raised both of his large arms in the air. So powerful they seemed, yet you could tell there was significantly more of a struggle to move then there was before. Zach knew within an instant that extreme immobility was beginning to take place. There was no longer a space reserved for the him to wash his hair or even scratch his neck. It was just muscle swelling into muscle. Zach teased though anyways, playfully trying to demonstrate a simple crab pose from his onlooking kid-brother. He barely got half way before his biceps squeezed into his face, his elbows bumped into the ceiling above. His biceps had to to be well over 34 inches at this point, so big in fact they threatened to crush his own face like a grapefruit. Unlike most men though who would cower in fear over this situation, Zach just snickered, and reached his tongue out for one massive worshipping lick. "You know I think I can guess what muscles you like most..." Zach sneered down at his brother “... you like my pecs don’t you?” Zach thumped closer, towering over two feet taller than the barely adolescent teenager. With one of his big hairy knuckled hands he relentlessly squeezed one of his boulder sized furry pecs like some crazed muscle worship video. He almost felt bad taunting him like this, the kid was always so nice, so supporting of his insatiable desires. The fact was though, even a boy of his age wanted to see something like this. “You know I can barely see below them...” Zach chuckled “That’s not to say I don’t want them bigger though” Zach gripped his fist together in front of him, purposely ballooning his mountainous pectorals almost two feet off his breast cage. With the small whimper his brother seemed to release, he knew this was his muscle of choice. It was only a few seconds of growth before Zach literally couldn’t see below them. He grinned with a freaky satisfaction knowing that he would no longer be able to see his own two feet, suck on his own cock, do anything remotely normal. He just proudly kept on growing them until they became so enormous, so astronomically huge, that even his own chin helplessly started to be pushed up. “Are these big enough for you yet little bro!?!” Jeremy whimpered. He had always admired the superheroes in movies with a nice thick set of pecs, but this was taking things to a whole new level. Massive rolling hills of hairy muscle, bigger then fucking tires, now hung from his macro-addicted big brother’s chest. He wanted to lick and worship every inch of this chest, suck on those rock hard freaky sized nipples. As he thought about this though, he heard the strain of something below. He gulped and slowly looked down, not wanting to almost see what he knew had been growing... “Ooooh yea, DIG IT little brother” SNAP Zach’s briefs went exploding onto Jeremy’s head. The poor kid whimpered as the most horrendously musky and pre-cum soaked fabric covered his face. The smell that crept into his young nose was intoxicating, so musky and yet sweet he almost didn’t want to stop smelling. After what must have been finally a few minutes, Jeremy reached up pulled down the yellow cum stained fabric, witnessing the tremendous thump of his brothers head hitting the ceiling. Zach casually reached up and pushed his hands against the ceiling. There was that extra moment you could tell he thought about it, what he was really doing. It was short lived, because only a few seconds later, that thought turned into delightful chuckle. “It’s time the world witnesses a new god...” And with that, Zachary, outgrew his house.

So this is one I had posted on the old forum. I lost all of my other stories, but I found this one and figured it still deserved to live on. Hope you enjoy it. Being a bartender actually turned out to be a pretty good day job for a witch. Mixing drinks wasn’t too different from mixing potions, and placing my bar in a college town meant I had plenty to keep me interested. There’d been plenty of times I’d used concoctions to alter people’s evenings, but it was always in good fun. Love potions were extremely easy to make, and it’s not like these kids weren’t coming out and getting drunk in order to get some anyway. Now, when you’ve been around as long as I have (about 500 years), you’ve seen it all: peace, war, love, heartbreak, fear, joy, hate, sorrow…you name it. I was convinced that the human race was nothing more than something to play with and profit off of, and nothing was going to change my mind. I suppose you could say that I’m pretty powerful as far as witches come, but seeing as how I hadn’t seen another witch in about a century, who could say? We basically kept to ourselves, and it’s not like anyone knew I was a witch. Witches don’t age like humans, but we look like them, so to anybody else, I just looked like a tall slender brunette in her late 20’s/early 30’s. Being 5’10 let me be kinda busty, and I had fun flirting with the boys. I’d slept with one or two just for fun, but when you’ve been around for 500 years, it’s hard to impress me. The one thing I had never done though, was actually alter a person’s physical composition. It was a hard spell, and people tend to go crazy with it. With modern technology, people can have plastic surgery and alter themselves all they like. That’s not my job and I’d decided to keep it that way…until… It was a Tuesday afternoon, and the bar was completely empty. It was kind of strange for there not to be a single soul in sight, but with midterms taking place, business picked up during the weekend as people drowned their sorrows, but during the week it was pretty dull. Then, in walks this guy. He seemed pretty unphenomenal. 5’7, probably 130-140lbs if I had to guess. Kinda skinny and a bit on the short side, but he had a handsome enough face. He was in a short-sleeved red button down shirt and khaki shorts. He had short brown hair and as he sat at the bar and looked up at me, I was shocked by his beautiful crystal blue eyes. As he sat down at the bar, he sighed and kept his head down. He was obviously having a bad day, so I tried to be cheerful. “What can I get for ya, sugar?” I asked. He kept staring at the bar, which was a waste since his eyes were the only exceptional physical quality he had. He kept drawing circles on the wood with his right middle finger, pondering. After about a minute, he looked up and just said “Something strong. I’ve had it pretty rough recently, and I need to either get drunk or find a magic solution to all my problems, so unless you’ve got something like that, I’ll be getting drunk.” He chuckled, and for some reason I thought that was the most endearing thing I had ever heard. The boy was cute, and couldn’t have been older than 21 or 22. I checked his ID, and sure enough, he’d just turned 21 a couple months before. I decided I’d see if I could help him out. I’m a witch, and he did ask for a magic solution after all. I leaned over the bar towards him and asked “What kind of problems ya got?” As he looked up towards me, his eyes stopped on my exposed cleavage before making their way to meet mine. “Lost my last two girls to…” he paused and sighed again, “…bigger guys” I made an audible “awwww” sound as he said that. I’d seen it in action. Tall beefy guys are definitely more successful at the bar than those like this guy of the shrimpier variety. It was something even I understood. Bigger guys were more attractive. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for this kid. He was kind of like a sad puppy, sitting in front of me, begging for a treat. I recalled his name from his ID. “Tyler, I’ve got something for you. It might not solve all of your problems, but it’ll make you feel better.” I know that I had pledged not to alter people, but for some reason my heart just went out to this guy. He was so pitiful looking that I just knew a bit of size would boost his confidence enough to really turn it all around for him. I walked to the bar and began mixing the concoction. I hadn’t made this particular potion in a few hundred years, so maybe I added in a bit too much of something or another, but it didn’t matter. The liquid was dark brown and looked like beer, but it smelled so sweet. I only poured him a shot glass full and sat it in front of him. “Try this.” Is all I said. He grabbed the glass and threw it back without question, and immediately the changes began to take place. He sat the glass down hard, and I knew he was feeling it, too. He shut his eyes and put his hands on the bar. They expanded and his fingers thickened. It spread up his arms and veins became visible as they thickened and lengthened. The short sleeves of his shirt filled up with his newly expanded beefy biceps. He threw his neck back and it thickened, too. He grunted and it sounded as though his voice was deepening. I had forgotten that the spell did that, too. His shoulders broadened and his chest heaved out. It grew so big so quickly that I nearly jumped out of my skin when a button shot off of the shirt as such a high velocity it shattered a bottle behind the counter. The loud POP of the button snapping off and the shattering of the glass nearly gave me a heart attack, but Tyler didn’t notice at all. His beefy pecs were now exposed as the shirt was opened for all to see. I peered over the bar to get a look at the rest of him. His stomach had surely tightened into a six-pack and his shorts were looking strained as his legs grew thicker and longer. I began to hear all sorts of ripping sounds as seams broke on his shorts and his sneakers. He shifted in his seat as his package grew, too. I’d added a bit extra to that portion of the spell. Well-hung men get places in life, ya know. The growth happens fairly quickly, and soon he’s brought his head back and he makes eye contact with me. He stands up and he’s now a bit taller than I am. I’d put him at about 5’11-6’0ft and a solid 180lbs now. I glance down at his crotch and see a visible outline of a sausage dick. Not bad! I think to myself. “This is amazing! What did you do?” Tyler is speaking so loudly, and his new deep voice is so…sexy. No, I’m not about to make a move on this guy…but maybe doing a bit of…quality control, wouldn’t be so bad… I’m having my own internal struggle, but I manage to reply, “You asked for a solution to your problems, so there ya go!” I wink at him and push my chest out a bit. He frantically scans the bar and shouts “I…I need MORE! I NEED YOU TO GIVE ME MORE! I’M NOT BIG ENOUGH YET!” His dick pulses in his shorts, a vein pops out on his neck, and a wet spot starts to form on his crotch. “Slow down tiger! You’re a pretty big boy already, and besides, I don’t think you’d be able to pay for this stuff if I charged you for it.” I try to sound seductive. I don’t know why I can’t control myself, but I want him so badly at this point I can hardly stand it. I’m not sure how he takes it, but he leans in to whisper into my ear “Oh, I can pay for it…” I melted right there. His deep, smooth voice was so sexy. He reached a huge hand up to my face and stroked it with the back of his hand so gently. I reached out and put my hand on one of his huge, meaty pecs. It was solid as a rock. I quickly turned and went back to the drinks. I made my way across the bar, hearing glass break under my shoes from the bottle that broke earlier. I didn’t care. I made a whole big glass of the potion and he was reaching for it before I had even finished it. I handed it to him and he chugged the entire glass. As soon as he finished, he threw it to the floor, shattering the glass. It was then that it hit me…I’ve literally made a huge mistake. ”RRRRRRRWWWWAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!” is all he can manage to say. He stands up and holds his arms out. He’s already showing signs of being obscenely huge. Again, his hands swell to a size big enough to palm a basketball. His arms explode in size, his sleeves tearing like tissue. He flexes those beautiful massive biceps. They’ve got to be over 20 inches. His traps swell up and his bull neck expands even further. His chest and back swell simultaneously, and I duck under the bar just in time as the rest of his shirt buttons fly off like bullets, striking glass and wood, and piercing into the wall behind me. He inches taller towards the ceiling. His thighs swell to look like cedars, and the push out his now engorged melon-sized ballsack and still growing dick. You can physically see it through the remnants of his shorts. A look of discomfort spreads across his face and one of his huge hands reaches down and tears away the rest of the fabric surrounding it, unleashing the beast. His huge dick is oozing semen. It runs down the long, thick shaft and begins coating his balls that are still physically churning and growing. It then begins dripping onto the floor. He continues to expand in every direction for a few more moments before it finally slows to a stop. “Oh my god…” is all we both say. We’re both shaking and horny. He’s a 7ft tall behemoth, and he’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. His still beautiful striking blue eyes meet mine, and he reaches across the bar, picks me up gently, and lays be across the top of it. I know he’s going to fuck me right on my own bar, and I want it. He’s so huge he can straddle the bar effortlessly. As he does, his huge dick and ballsack spread across the wood, and I’m so turned on I can’t stand it. My panties are soaked and all I want is for him to be inside me. I’m a witch, and I know I’m probably the only one who can take it all. It’s got to be a foot and a half long, and it’s as thick as a fucking soda can. Neither of us can say anything, but we’re both breathing heavily as he makes his way towards me. He reaches around me and tears my top off. He then reaches down and rips my jeans like they’re tissue paper and removes my panties the same way. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced. He fondles my huge breasts with such power and yet such delicacy. Already coated in his own precum as lubrication, he makes his way inside of me. It’s physically hot and literally the most filling experience I could imagine. Me, lying across the bar naked and him, behemoth straddling it, we make love. We made passionate, lustful, beautiful love right there. He reached his hands around either side of the bar and gripped it tightly, crushing the wood as he finally pushed his entire dick into me. I moaned loudly and he made a sound of astonishment. As he continued to fuck me, he got faster and more aggressive. I looked up at his huge biceps and saw that he began to swell yet again. I felt his dick engorge even more within my body. How the hell this is happening I have no idea, but I’m so turned on by it. He doesn’t grow much, but it’s noticeable for sure, even for his size. He roars again as his head balloons and he begins to fill me with his semen. There’s so much that my stomach swells. It fills me up and begins to dump out of my vagina all over the bar. There’s so much semen that it pours down the sides of the bar and coats the floor. We both breathe in sync as he continues to move in and out, up and down. It was a ride like neither of us had ever experienced. I thought for sure that after all of that, he’d be finished, but he doesn’t go soft and instead repeats from step one. We fucked four times, and as he moved, there was an audible sound of us moving through the slimy semen everywhere. It was incredibly hot. After his fourth orgasm he finally pulls out and lays back across the bar himself. How in the world it supported him I will never know. I couldn’t sit up. He eventually stood up, leaned over me, and gave me the gentlest kiss on the lips I have ever received. I grabbed his face and returned the favor more violently. After our Kiss, he made his way to the door, and stooping down and turning sideways, made his way out onto campus completely covered in his own semen and butt naked. I admired his thick ass as he made his way out. Still not a soul in sight, I slid myself off the bar and into a puddle of semen. The bar was damaged, there was glass everywhere, and I was a mess. A quick spell would get all of those things in order before customers came that evening. ”That was fun. I should do that more often.” I thought to myself as I cleaned up the bar.

I am hoping there are other fans of the IFNB out there… It is, in my opinion, one of the best, consistent and intensely erotic muscle fiction series out there! I have been VERY in to the ongoing muscle fiction of the IFNB for a few years. It is a unique work, because it is not told like a traditional story but is told via "reports" from the world of the IFNB (International Federation of Naked Bodybuilding). Every post is coverage of a contest, backstage or personal profile of huge, hung, alpha-aggressive athletes. Over the course of the short posts, story lines and themes emerge and it becomes VERY hot. The creator(s?) clearly know the real world of competitive bodybuilding yet also have broad-ranging imaginations. Everything from vanilla muscle worship to hardcore gang rape and everything in between! Old-young, coach-jock, hetero and homo, extreme sex and basic showing off . . . it all seems to happen in this world. The cool part is that they acknowledge in clever ways how this has been going on in real life and why none of us are familiar. They are tethered to real life (even if the muscle growth stuff is sometimes pure science fiction), so it makes it hotter. I also like how they RESPOND TO OUR COMMENTS and the storyline follows the fans' interests. The hot discussions and sub-fantasies that emerge are sometimes as hot as the posts themselves. I really get into chatting IFNB with other fans, so thought I'd post here and see who else loves these stories?

Hello again! This is the third chapter in the Dylan series. Unlike the majority of the original chapters, this one actually used the fact that Dylan was underage as a plot point, so I had to slightly rework the story to account for the fact that he is now 18. Enjoy, and don't forget to comment! ------ A Morning with Dylan Dylan woke up with one thought on his mind: food. The muscleboy sat up and stretched, yawning while he expanded his huge muscles and watched them flex and roll. He looked around, confused for a moment, before he remembered where he was; Kyle’s apartment. Putting on his now-dry basketball shorts, Dylan went to check on Kyle. The blond photographer was fast asleep, but Dylan needed food, and he needed it NOW. Looking at the time, Dylan saw it was only 6:00. The local grocery stores should be opening up any time now. Unfortunately, Kyle's apartment wasn't very close to any shopping districts so it would be quite a walk to the nearest store - nearly 10 miles. Dylan quickly wrote a note that said, “Out shopping, will be back in an hour, -Dylan,” before posting it to the door and walking out. There was only one thing that Dylan loved as much as working out, and that was running. In track meets, Dylan would always stand out. Most runners were skinny and had long, bony limbs that didn’t weigh much so that they could run faster, but not Dylan. His musclebound legs blasted him forwards with amazing speed, leaving the other competitors panting in the dust. Dylan weighed nearly twice as much as the heaviest runners, but he was 100% muscle, and rather than slow him down, the teen’s hulking body made him faster than any other kid could ever dream of being. As Dylan headed towards the store, he started to feel a tingling within him, a nagging feeling telling him to run. The boy jogged at first, feeling the morning breeze stroke his powerful body, then slowly increased his speed. After two minutes of jogging, he got tired of this and broke into a mad sprint. He dashed by trees and people, dodging obstacles, not even stopping for cars as he flew recklessly down the streets. One woman cursed at him and, laughing, Dylan simply flexed his bicep at her and dashed away. Dylan loved the feeling of the wind blowing in his face, trying to stop his muscular body from ripping through the city at breakneck speeds but failing, the resistance nothing to the barrier-destroying propulsion of his explosive calves and powerhouse thighs. The boy, high on his own speed and power, accidentally struck a metal signpost. Dylan felt a sharp pain in his arm, but only momentarily, as his muscles quickly recovered. Looking back, he saw that the signpost was not as lucky; his momentum had caused it to bend over at an awkward angle, the metal twisting into itself because of his boy muscle. That sight made Dylan hard, and his huge penis engorging in his shorts caused him to slow down. Fortunately, the boy was already approaching the store at that point, so he coasted into a casual walk and checked the time. 6:21. It had taken Dylan just over twenty minutes to run a full ten miles. The young stud congratulated himself as he walked towards the store. Dylan tried to open the door, but it was locked. A short, small man came out and glared at Dylan. He didn’t look very impressive, with an angry red face and a balding head, but that didn’t stop him from fuming at the young musclegod. “Can’t you read the sign?” he scolded, “We don’t open until 7!” Dylan rolled his eyes, “Dude, big deal. I’m a little bit early, so what? C’mon, let me in.” “No!” the red-faced man shrieked, “Rules are rules! I can’t let every half-naked bodybuilder barge in as if they own the place! Wait outside!” The musclegod was starting to get annoyed at the short guy. Dylan unconsciously flexed his muscles, which were pumped from the hard run and looking even bigger and more intimidating than usual. “Look, dude, if I stand out here I’m going to have to wait over half an hour. Just let me get my groceries and leave, okay? I don’t want to start any trouble but you’re really pissing me off.” The employee looked like he was about to punch Dylan (which would have been a very, very bad mistake) but before he could do anything a well-endowed blonde walked out of the store. She wore the same uniform as the angry short man, a dark blue polo shirt with the store’s name printed across its front, but her tremendous breasts were spilling out of it. Dylan’s jaw dropped when he saw the size of her jugs. “Are you giving our customer here trouble, Nelson?” The tall woman asked. “N-no,” Nelson stuttered, “This man over here, he was trying to get into the store. I know you told me not to let anyone in before 7, so…” The blonde shook her head in dismay, “I don’t think you understand Nelson. We always treat our customers best. Especially customers as handsome as Mister…?” “Tadeo,” Dylan smiled, “I’m Dylan Tadeo.” “Great! My name is Samantha Moreno, but you can call me Sammy. I’m the manager here. Sorry about Nelson bothering you,” she gently shooed him away, and grumbling, the short man stormed off, “But that won’t happen again. Normally, we have a pretty strict policy on clothing, but for you, I think we’ll make an exception.” Samantha lifted her finger and tenderly ran it across Dylan’s bulging pecs. She gasped at their massive size, their smooth, fine hairs and ponderous density. Dylan smirked at the fortunate turn of events. He forgot his hunger for food in exchange for a hunger for pussy. “You like muscle, Sammy?” The blonde dropped her hands and stroked the boy’s abdominals, amazed at the hardness of all eight bulging muscles. “It’s my favorite thing in the world.” “I can show you all my muscles, if you want,” Dylan suggested. Samantha glanced into the stud’s eyes. He was so confident, so masculine. “There’s a room in the back that nobody ever uses. I’m sure you could… show me your muscles there.” She led the enormous muscleboy to the back storeroom, anxious and yet excited. Samantha hadn’t been this giddy since she first went on a date in middle school, but this sexy musclegod whom she had only met a few minutes ago was already making her mad with desire. His enormous muscles and cute face stirred a need in her that no other man had even made her feel. Samantha had dominated every man she had ever met, but she failed to realize just how dominant Dylan really was. And she also failed to realize just how huge the young stud was... everywhere. The blonde turned around to see Dylan looming over her. Growling, the musclegod tore off Samantha’s shirt and lifted her entire body in his arms, suffocating her soft, petite frame in his hulking muscles. Sammy was suddenly overwhelmed by so much hot, pulsing strength that she nearly passed out – or she would have, if Dylan hadn’t thrust his tongue into Sammy’s lips and kissed her with the ferocity of a tiger. Samantha returned in kind, making out with Dylan’s perfect face and basking in the manly taste of his mouth. Dylan quickly pulled their lips apart and gazed at Samantha, his eyes burning with lust. “A lot of chicks say I’m too big,” he growled as he placed Samantha on the floor and seductively slid down his basketball shorts, “But they all manage to take me. Some with more screaming than others.” Samantha’s gorgeous blue eyes widened as the muscleboy unsheathed his gigantic tool. Huge, hot, and veiny, it was just like the rest of Dylan's body. That monstrous, drooling fuck-cannon was either a woman’s biggest fear or her biggest desire. Fortunately, for Samantha, it was the latter. Dylan saw the need in Samantha’s eyes, the same need that everyone had whenever they saw his beautiful nude body. Dylan stepped towards Samantha and flipped her over so that her smooth ass faced upwards. Grunting, the muscleboy rammed his cock deep into Samantha, all the way to the base. Samantha screamed at first, just as Dylan had predicted. But Dylan had also predicted that Samantha was a total size junkie, and he had predicted right. By the third ass-splitting thrust, Samantha was moaning in pleasure, pleading Dylan to fuck her even harder, to be even more brutal. Dylan gladly obliged. Standing up, the huge stud lifted the blonde on his cock. Samantha gasped at the sudden change in elevation, unaware of what Dylan was doing. The musclegod carried Samantha on his cock over to the wall and began to fuck her against it, using nothing but his powerful glutes to provide her with brain-numbing, orgasm-inducing pleasure. Each thrust was twice as hard as the one before, and Samantha, impaled on what was probably the world’s largest cock, cried in ever-escalating ecstasy. Dylan fucked so hard that the concrete wall actually started to develop cracks; somebody would have to pay a huge repair fine later. By this point, Samantha had already orgasmed several times, but Dylan had yet to achieve climax. Pulling the tired and delirious woman off his sexweapon, Dylan grabbed it with both hands (he had to, because that cock was simply too big for one) and started erupting all over Samantha. It was not a short series of bursts, but a continuous jet of incredibly powerful cum, splattering all over the blonde’s naked body. By the time his orgasm had subsided to a dribble, Dylan’s manly essence had practically covered the entire room. “God damn…” Samantha groaned, “That's the best sex I've ever had. I never even dreamed that a man could fuck that hard.” Dylan chuckled to himself. “What’s so funny, mister?” “You called me a man, Sammy. How old do you think I am?” The blonde was taken aback by this question. “Uh, you look pretty young, so… maybe mid 20s?” Dylan burst out laughing. “Nowhere close, girl. I’m only 18, still in high school. I’m barely legal and I'm already the best fuck you've ever had.” Samantha's eyes widened, and her rapturous grin transformed into slack-jawed astonishment. “Shit, Dylan… you’re joking right? You could win any bodybuilding award you want with a body like that... and your monster dick, you fucked me with that thing like a master... and how the hell do you have such a sexy face.... there's no way that anyone that young could be so perfect...” “Better believe it, ” the muscleboy smirked. The blonde gazed at Dylan's impossibly beautiful smile one last time before her eyes rolled up and she fell to the floor, unconscious. Samantha simply hadn't been able to comprehend that a man as young, handsome, and powerful as Dylan could exist. When she woke up forty-eight hours later, Samantha would remember it all as simply an incredible and sexy dream. Dylan shrugged. “Time to get some groceries.” --- Dylan arrived back at Kyle's house about half an hour later. The muscleboy gently tapped on the door, and when nobody responded, he lightly grasped the metal knob (so as not to crush it in his fist) and turned it to enter inside. The photographer was typing on his laptop, heavy metal playing loud. Kyle turned off the music, looked up, and was greeted with Dylan's irresistibly handsome face. The stud was wearing a black shirt with a large pink heart in the middle of it with text that said “I Love Big Muscles!” and a silhouette of a bodybuilder under it. The shirt was obviously two sizes too small, but it would do an adequate job of covering the boy’s muscle-bound torso for now. In each hand, Dylan held half a dozen grocery bags that seemed to be filled to the brim, and overflowing. The teen walked over to the kitchen and dumped the bags onto the counter. Kyle’s mouth dropped as the bags unleashed a gargantuan pile of food. There was no way that he could finish it all, even in a month. Dylan chuckled as he removed the last few items and threw the bags away. Kyle stared unbelievingly at all the groceries the boy had brought. There was everything he could think of; milk, juice, yogurt, butter, bread, cheese, meat, fish, vegetables, eggs, pasta, ice cream, and more. And it seemed that the boy had brought everything in abundance, almost as if he had gone to every alley in the store and stocked three times as much as he needed. There was enough food here to feed a family of six for a week! "How much did you get?" Kyle exclaimed, "This is excessive!" “Calm down, Kyle, calm down,” the muscleboy placated him, “I got it all for free. There’s a real nice lady at the store who helped me out. I told her that I needed to get some groceries but I didn’t have any money, so she gave me some stuff for free. She gave me this t-shirt, too.” The blond stared at Dylan, unconvinced. “Okay, I kind of persuaded her a bit. But she really liked my muscles. As you can see,” Dylan pointed to his shirt, which was desperately struggling to contain his beefy biceps and heaving pecs. “She gave me all this food one-hundred-percent out of her own free will, I swear.” In reality, after fucking Sammy, Dylan had made it clear to the employees that he better get what he want. All Dylan wanted, of course, was food, and lots of it. Being a true meat-loving carnivore, he ended up devouring four pizzas (bacon, pepperoni, BBQ chicken, and sausage) and three gallons of milk for breakfast; a bit heavy, but Dylan knew he could burn off the calories in a few minutes of jogging thanks to his incredible metabolism. Dylan also ordered the poor employees to pack up a dozen bags of groceries from every end of the store. Nelson raged at the teenager, whom he accused of “robbing us blind,” but a dangerous flex of Dylan’s biceps shut the red-faced man up quickly. Kyle shrugged. “Well, food is food. I’m probably not going to finish it all, but thanks anyways.” “No problem,” Dylan winked, “I’ll be happy to eat anything you leave behind.” After the two had cram-packed the groceries in the fridge (which took surprisingly little time thanks to Dylan’s lightning-quickness), the muscleboy went back to the bedroom while Kyle ate a bowl of cereal. A few minutes later, Kyle was done and headed inside to talk to Dylan about the next photo shoot. There, he saw the teen, positioned above the floor and held up only by his feet and hands, doing push-ups. Dylan burned through them at a rapid-fire pace. He would do fifty push-ups in thirty seconds, then change to one-arm push-ups and crank out fifty more. Then he would switch arms and blast through another fifty reps. In less than two minutes, Dylan had finished one hundred and fifty push-ups, and his biceps were ridiculously swollen with pump. But Dylan wasn’t done; the muscleboy lied down and clasped his hands behind his head. He then started doing crunches with single-minded determination, repping them out even faster than he had his push-ups. The hulking teenager somehow managed to reach one-hundred reps by the time a minute had passed. Despite their speed, these weren’t the hasty, rushed crunches of an amateur, but the perfect, refined crunch of a professional bodybuilder. The only reason Dylan could pump them out with such mind-blowing speed was because of his extreme level of fitness - any fat that might have existed on Dylan's body was so miniscule that it was not visible to the human eye. Dylan jumped up and turned around… and bumped into Kyle. His enormous chest slammed into Kyle’s head and sent him flying backwards on his rear. Dylan didn’t even seem to notice the collision until he looked down and saw Kyle sprawled on his ass. “Shit! I am so sorry!” the muscleteen bent down and lifted the photographer up in his mighty arms. “You okay, Kyle?” Kyle rubbed his forehead. “Yeah, I’m fine. My head hurts a bit where you slammed into me, but that’s it." Then, jokingly, "You’ve got to watch where you’re going with a body like that, stud! You could hurt people by just touching them!” The musclebound adolescent blushed. “Sorry. I was just so into my warm-up, I didn’t even notice that you came in. Hey, take a look at this!” Dylan slowly peeled off his shirt and tossed it on the floor. Kyle’s jaw dropped, and his cock rose. He had seen the teenage musclegod shirtless before, but this was the first time he had seen him after he had pumped up. The boy’s thick, dense pecs, which were swollen from the earlier push-ups, protruded in front of him so much that they actually created a shelf big enough to carry, and crush, a carton of milk. His abs pushed the definition of what abs are supposed to be; they were eight of them, perfectly defined, containing so much muscle and size that they actually bulged outwards. It wasn’t the fatty kind of bulge, but the bulge of too much powerful and sinewy mass trying to occupy the same space; his abs created a dense wall of muscle that looked strong enough to deflect bullets. Even his arms somehow managed to overshadow their previous hugeness, biceps and triceps exploding in opposite directions, expanding with every breath, with every pump of blood through their veins. “You like?” Dylan winked. Kyle sat down on the bed, mouth ajar. “You look amazing.” “And that’s just from doing my warm-up,” the adolescent bragged. “You should see how huge I get after a real work-out!” This was the moment Kyle had been waiting for. “I bet you get absolutely monstrous when you’re pumped, don’t you, big guy?” Dylan chuckled, “You have no idea.” “Then maybe we should go to the gym and take a few pictures of you working out. I’m sure those photos would look incredible.” Dylan’s eyes lit up. “That’s a great idea, Kyle! When can we do it?” Kyle smiled. This would be his best shoot yet. “We can go right now.”