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  1. Following on from "Deano's Summer" and the short, eight-chapter novella-length "Deano's Winter" story, I've written a new/third story about Muscle University's most complex but loveable pocket rocket bodybuilder. This one is set mostly at Muscle University, where Deano is studying in his second year, but the characters go to some other places too. It's split into three parts, with a number of chapters per part. There are some new characters as well as lots of familiar names and returning characters from the first two Deano stories and the original "Muscle University" story, including Deano's roommate Shaun, who is a lot more fleshed out here. I also have a Twitter account where I post as Deano here which I set up for the first story where I'll be posting things related to the events of the story. DEANO, AGAIN: A MUSCLE UNIVERSITY STORY (DEANO STORY 3) PART ONE One “We’ll have to get you a suit when you come back for Easter,” my dad says to me from the driver’s seat of his Land Rover. “Huh?!” I say, screwing my face up. I know exactly what he’s talking about. I just feel like getting a rise out of him for one last time before he drops me off at the train station to go back to the Montgomery University of Bodybuilding & Fitness. “For your mum’s bloody wedding!” he barks. I roll my tongue around the inside of my mouth to try and cover up my smirk. My dad gives me a suspicious look. Like he knows I’m just trying to wind him up. Then he lets out a big sigh and turns back to the road. I swear he’s smirking a bit though. “God knows if we’ll find one that fits you!” And now I’m full-on smiling. Struggling to find a suit because I’m both a short-arse AND a jacked-up pocket rocket bodybuilder who’s getting bigger by the week at the only university in the world dedicated to turning its students into pro bodybuilders? I kinda love it. And then I have another thought. If all goes to plan I’ll be competing at the end of term bodybuilding show just before the Easter break. Which means, not only will I be jacked and shredded for mum’s wedding, I’ll also be dark and bronzed from the competition tan. I wonder what Gary’s relatives will think. And dad’s new girlfriend’s son, Archie. And now I’m suddenly picturing how he was with me when we met for the first time last week. All nervous and intimidated. Maybe I should ask mum if I can bring my roommate Shaun as a guest so the two of us can strip off and give Archie a full-on posedown. “Right, text me when you get back,” Dad says when he parks the car outside the station. “And watch what you’re doing!” I pull a face and nod sarcastically as I get out of his Land Rover, failing to smirk to myself as I drag my suitcase into the station. I’ll never admit to my dad how much I miss him when I’m at Muscle University. But then - he’ll never admit to how much he misses ME. On the train from Brighton to London I start thinking about Harry the Bouncer. Even though it all went to shit and ended up being a bit of a disaster, I don’t regret meeting him. And I definitely don’t regret the hot sex we had the day before Christmas Eve. And at least I made things right with him when I saw him on New Year’s Eve. Maybe I WILL go down to the pub he works at and say hi to him the next time I’m down at Easter. I did promise him I would after all. And it would be kinda nice to see him again. He’ll probably cum in his pants when he sees me bronzed and jacked from the end of term bodybuilding show. I keep wondering whether anything more might have happened between us if it hadn’t gone tits up. If I hadn’t seen Ryan North on Boxing Day and acted like a complete twat on that second date with Harry. Obviously, we would have had sex again. (Did I mention how hot the sex was?) But anything beyond that - I’m not really too sure. I mean, he lives back home for a start. And I’m up in Scotland for most of the year. How would things have ever worked? Plus there’s the obvious age difference. I mean, I can’t really imagine introducing ANY guy as my boyfriend to my mum and dad, but one practically twice my age? My roommate Shaun is already back and sitting on his bed in our dorm room with his head buried in his laptop when I (finally!) get back to Montgomery. That seven-hour bloody journey is never fun. I’ve given up on asking Dad if I can get a flight from Gatwick to Glasgow instead of the train. “Do you think I’m bloody made of money?!” is his usual response. Shaun says all right to me and we fist bump each other. He tells me he’s hanging really badly because he went out with his mates last night back home in Nottingham. He’s wearing that tight fitted light blue t-shirt he often wears that makes his arms look stacked. Shaun’s not one of the biggest lads in the year. He’s probably around somewhere in the middle in terms of size. He’s got a great physique though. Big shoulders, deep pecs and a tight waist. His torso has an awesome V shape. And his legs are decent too. He’s about five foot eleven so he’ll never be up against me in the 212 class. I actually wasn’t sure I’d like him on the first day I met him. I thought he’d be a bit too cocky and obnoxious for my liking. I feared he might love himself a bit too. Shaun’s a good looking guy. Blonde hair. Green eyes. He looks a bit like a posh boy, I guess. Like the kind of guy who went to Eton. He’s not like that at all though. Once he opens his mouth and starts talking you realise he’s just a bit of a lad. (And not posh. At all!) I’d be lying if I said I’d never had certain thoughts about him. Right at the start of our first year, I found myself checking him out every now and then. When he’d come out of the shower. In the gym. In Posing Practice 101. That stopped pretty quickly though once I got to know him and we became mates. Then he just became Shaun. Besides, I started having those thoughts about another certain cocky and annoyingly good looking classmate. “Not up for the SU bar tonight then?” I ask Shaun with a smirk as I unzip my suitcase. “Awww, mate. Fuck RIGHT off with that!” he cries dramatically, leaning back on his headboard and still clutching his laptop. Shaun doesn’t really ask me anything about my break. Not that I’d tell him anything about what happened with Harry the Bouncer. I’m mostly fine with not talking to Shaun about stuff like that. A part of me even likes the fact that I’ve got this secret none of the lads here know. But sometimes I have these fleeting moments where I fantasise about telling Shaun that I like lads. And in those moments, I can’t help thinking how nice it would be. To tell him all the stuff that I’ve been keeping from him. To let him know about that side of me. I sometimes think of it as like a rehearsal for when I’m a professional bodybuilder. I’m not exactly going to be an openly bisexual bodybuilder. I’ll be keeping that hidden from pretty much everyone. So me not telling Shaun and Ashley Mosaku and Eric Mafra is like a practice run. I can still be mates with them. They just don’t need to know that bodybuilders turn me on. That I like kissing lads. That one of those lads was Sebastian “Woody” Wood after obsessing about him for most of the first year. And they don’t need to know that last summer I got my heart broken by a guy called Ryan North. “All right, lads, settle down,” Hancox says to us as he walks into our first Advanced Posing Practice lesson of the term on Monday morning. I’m standing in my usual spot in the back of the room with Shaun and Ash (Mafra’s in Thursday’s lesson with Woody and Henderson). “Everyone have a good Christmas? Yes? Do I actually give a shit? Absolutely fucking not!” Hancox jokes. Ha! I love it. I look at Shaun and we exchange grins. Hancox is a total legend. Granted he’s a bit of a scary bastard. But then, I’m kind of used to being around older, scary-looking bald-headed ex-competitive bodybuilders who don’t take any shit. “Right - before you all start stripping off there’s something I’ve been asked to announce. Try not to spontaneously combust in your posing trunks.” I look at Shaun and we exchange confused looks. Hancox starts to tell us about a new thing the university is introducing this term called the “Future Pro’s Training Programme”. Apparently, a group of selected students will each get to train with one of the lecturers for an intense three-month training plan, leading up to the end of term bodybuilding show in April, which they will automatically qualify for. This is where Hancox really piques my interest. I’m determined to get a place on that end of term bodybuilding show after missing out last year. Granted, I stand a pretty good chance of getting a spot anyway, but the idea of it being both guaranteed and embarking on an intense training programme with one of the lecturers here is more than appealing. And then Hancox says something which not only further increases that interest, but sends an overwhelming jolt of excitement running through me. “As part of the programme, the selected students will get to go to the McCarthy Classic in the States to represent the university and guest pose.” Woah. What. The. Fuck? I look over at a wide-eyed Ash, then at Shaun. The McCarthy Classic? I can’t believe it. That’s fucking HUGE! Named after nineties bodybuilding legend Brad McCarthy, it’s one of the biggest IFBB shows on the calendar. Loads of the current top pros will be competing. And we get to guest pose! It would basically be a dream for any budding bodybuilder. And most of the students here at Montgomery University. Hancox carries on. Six students are apparently going to be chosen for the programme to represent the university. Three third years and three second years. It’s open to everyone to apply. Hancox hasn’t really specified what they’re looking for in applicants, but fuck - I REALLY think I have a shot at getting a spot here. I’m one of the best in the year after all. Surely that makes me a top contender? And when Hancox said the words “three-second years” I swear he even looked at me. Okay, that might have just been a coincidence. But I just have this feeling that it wasn’t. I can barely concentrate for the rest of Posing Practice. All I can think about is the prospect of getting a place on that programme. Going to America. Being at the McCarthy Classic in Chicago, surrounded by some of the best pro bodybuilders on the planet. I wonder if we’d actually get to meet them? And then guest posing. Being on the stage in front of the judges. The whole thing is just fucking insane. “McCarthy Classic? Fucking hell, lads!” Ash says to us as we were putting our clothes on at the end of the lesson. His marble-like abs popping through his skin and his big overhanging pes twitching. “You gonna apply, D?” Shaun asks as he covers up his torso with a tight white t-shirt. For some reason, I feel slightly nervous. “Yeah. Probably!” I say, maybe in at attempt to play the whole thing down. There’s an awkward pause. Do I ask the question back to Shaun? It would be kind of weird not to. “You?” I ask him, my voice sounding weird “Mmmm. Might do,” Shaun replies, picking up his backpack and not looking at me. Huh. More awkwardness. Here’s the thing. Shaun is a fucking great bodybuilder. There’s no arguing with that. But I think we both know he doesn’t really have much of a chance of getting a spot on the programme. There are only three places for second-years. Three students to step on stage at the McCarthy fucking Classic in America to “represent the university”. Surely the lecturers are going to choose the three best students in the year? And Shaun isn’t one of them. And then I have a thought which causes a sense of dread to wave through my body. Because if we’re talking about the best three students in our year, there are really only five contenders. Me, Ashley, Mafra, that Banksy dude I hardly speak to and the first guy I ever kissed. The guy who I outed last year which led to me getting suspended. The guy I spent ages obsessing over and then trying to GET over. The first guy I ever really, truly liked. Sebastian “Woody” Wood.
  2. Authors Notes: This thread is a replacement for the merged threads that became partially disabled that this story was previously posted in. That thread will be closed upon all the chapters of the story being reposted into this new thread. But, there is quite a bit of discussion in that thread about the story - good feedback, questions answered and such.. So, to find and read that discussion, please follow the following link. Closed To Protect and Serve Thread I wish to emphasize in the beginning - as some feedback over the time of this story has asked or accused concerning this topic - that no political or current events allegory or commentary is being made in this story. It is a story about love between two people and the monumental circumstances that their love must endure. If there is any allegory or commentary or something thought provoking I wish to encourage in this story it is two questions: What makes someone, anyone, human? Is it simply a matter of genes or is it something more? Is the muscle growth scenarios we all love here REALLY something we would choose to do in the real world? Is the fantasy really what the reality would be like? My thanks to everyone who has supported me with encouragement, suggestions and criticism, questions, speculation, tips, etc. Especially @dredlifter who suggested the original idea when I was looking for a new story idea and who has given me suggestions and proofreading help along the way, and @SeaMusc who graciously allowed me to borrow some of his ideas and the universe he has set his stories in for this one. Please give a read to both of their sets of stories. You won't be disappointed. I have included links to various videos, more information, music etc that can enhance the experience and give some explanation to what I am presenting in the chapters. Feel free to use them. I have also included at the end of most chapters a graphic showing the relative size difference between John and Gabriel at that point in the story. I make references to and include characters based on the real world of bodybuilding. Although these persons are real, they are referenced only to enhance the realism of the story. Any actions described as being made by these real world persons is purely fictional. None of these individuals endorse this work. To Protect and Serve - Chapter 1 -The First Morning “Take me to the magic of the moment / On a glory night / When the children of tomorrow dream away in the wind of change/” ~ Scorpion, Wind of Change Prelude: Just imagine - You’re standing at attention with your peers in your best Class-A Uniform. All around you in the auditorium your friends, family, and fellow officers who can come are here to see the solemn occasion. A freshly earned, freshly shined badge has just been pinned on your chest by the Sheriff. You raise your right hand and take the oath. The oath is a bit different from jurisdiction to jurisdiction, but we boil its meaning down to one phrase - “To Protect and Serve.” So many have taken the oath. Some who took it did little things that made a big difference, while some risked their lives and paid the ultimate price. And some … well … some are special. This is the story of one of those special ones - no, he is even more than that. Though it was not his intention nor mine, he went beyond special. How do I know? He saved me. He has given me a life I could never have dreamed possible that first early morning. And what happened to him? Well, a transformation that is better in the telling. To those who take the oath as seriously as he did; To those who give it a new and bigger meaning as he did; to those who change more than they can imagine by repeating those words as he did, this story is dedicated. This is the story of what could happen if you could protect and serve many thousands of people, and just one man, me, in ways beyond your wildest imagination. ~ Gabriel York A deceptively small man hung his duty shirt onto a dry cleaners hanger and placed it in his locker. As he stood bare chested in the cool air, he appeared to be hiding his body, but he had nothing to be ashamed of - having a lithe but very tight build under that shirt. Nicely shaped, mounded pecs accompanied hard small orange sized biceps. A tight 6-pack graced his lower abdomen to an impossibly small looking waist. He was way better than most men of his age, no “dad bod” here to be sure. But, the man always felt self-conscious in the locker room despite the room being empty. He wasn’t one of THEM, something that had haunted him since high school. He lifted one booted foot and then the other onto a wooden bench before him. Loosening the laces and pulling the side zipper, he removed each boot. He held them in his hands like precious artifacts for just a moment, remembering the first time he put these on. Soon it would be his last, he mused. His time could go on as long as he wanted. But -- he questioned why. What had he done to stay on? What good had he really done? REALLY made a difference? It took but a few more minutes for him to put on his civilian duty clothes (a departmental polo, slacks, and loafers), secure his badge to his belt, and close his locker. Most locker rooms were replete with all sorts of combination locks, but not here. A few men and most of the women officers used them, but it wasn’t exactly necessary. You couldn’t be in a much safer place after all. Deputy Sergeant John Declann closed his locker for the millionth time and went to collect his personal sidearm from the gun locker clerk. He had no sooner than entered the hallway from the locker room, he heard a truly tremendous booming upper bass voice: “WHOA, ONE SIDE DECLANN.” Declann immediately pulled back into the doorway and looked up … and up, to see 5 men in a tight formation with shields and cell-entry equipment. Each one of them was every bit of 6 foot 4 inches plus - although tactical boots always made you look taller than you were. They were more like 6 foot 2 without them - but still, they all out-weighed John by at least 60 pounds of muscle. At his 5 foot 7 inches in height and in normal shoes, he felt positively TINY seeing them pass by. That was sort of the point of those uniforms - to try and intimidate anyone who saw what was coming - and it always did, at least it did Declann. They were in helmets and wore thick padded vests, under which were black t-shirt with black BDUs and those boots below. While those clothes were technically “loose,” they did little to hide every oversized muscle in their massive bodies. Gigantic arms stretched forth from sleeves that seemed to be straining to the breaking point. 2 pairs of arms were thick, powerlifter looking, and 3 more were supremely cut muscle. The CERT - Cell Extraction and Response Team - blew past him looking like they were heading to Mary-pod - the maximum security section. No doubt it was to remove an offender from a cell for morning counts who did not want to be removed. There was no question, he WOULD be removed, no matter what it took. The injury inflicted was entirely the offender’s choice. And, that amount of muscle and its overwhelming power could do plenty of that. Declann had tried out for both the CERT and SWAT teams years ago. But at his 165 pounds, it was deemed he just did not have the physical size necessary. “You have all the skills needed and more Deputy Declann,” he had been told. “You should be proud of that. But some other officers just beat you out in the scores. And we need you on the streets. That is where you belong.” Funny, he thought in a moment of jealousy. It was always those guys who were of larger than life proportions that got the spots, even if their skills were not as good as his. After the group had passed, Declann walked down the hall toward the sally port and stopped. He always did it at times like this, halting at the Officer’s Gym. He looked inside. It was rather quiet, normal at 0545 and shift change. Still, he could see some of the remnants of workouts by the big guys on the force. 45 pound plates left on the sides of incline bench press rack. What looked like 5 plates on a side on the bar on the squat rack. Dozens on the leg press sled. It was a bit of a mess, in truth, but most well used gyms were. Now, Declann was no physical slouch. He always kept in shape and his skills honed as the primary martial arts instructor for the Sheriff’s Office. He could have done well in that room, even though he was pushing 40 years old. Could have grown. But, he sighed and went on. There was just a part of him that never wanted to face big men in the gym. The injustice of being mocked for his smaller size and unfamiliarity with the equipment the one time he went in blazed in him still all these years later. He guessed the big men thought it was good natured fun, but it hurt Declann deeply. So, he kept to his body weight fitness room and small dojo set up in the garage at home. That made him feel less conspicuous. When it came to them, John always saw himself as a small man in boots that were a size too big. And yet - to so many others, he wasn’t that at all. He was everything that made police work an honorable profession. --- John Declann had wanted to be a police officer for as long as he could remember. Since his youngest days, he had been fascinated by police dramas on TV, how they always seemed to catch the bad guy no matter the odds. How they always saved people in distress. In his mind, there was no better calling. No better way to spend his life. He had the mind to be anything he wanted. He excelled in most subjects in school and was a top flight musician. But, those pursuits were not where he heart lay. He was a cop at heart by his teenage years, and he did everything he could to prepare himself. He took JROTC through high school, where he picked up his interest in martial arts and started Aikido lessons. Though he wasn’t the best at team sports, he blasted through the competition at his dojo. He became quite fit from the military style calisthenics workouts he adopted during ROTC summer camps. And, that fitness matched perfectly with his blooming skills with his hands and feet on the mats. Before high school was over, his featured had matured into those of a very fit, handsome young man with striking brown eyes. And he had his first degree black belt, the first degree of many. It took a nearly a year after graduating high school to get his first small town commission to the force. He spent his first 18 months in the jails, and then took and passed his Colorado POST exams. He had been a road officer ever since. Now, he was a Sergeant in the Boulder County Sheriff’s Office - an area not unknown for large scale crimes as it held the University of Colorado. “The Berkeley of the East” though had its full measure of minor offenses. But the area wasn’t exactly the worst gang spots in Denver either. He had for served with true distinction for nearly two decades since - being decorated for bravery multiple times for saving civilians lives under fire. He had saved those intent on suicide. He had even delivered a baby once in a convenience store, and the story made the local news. He had had plenty of hands-on run ins with offenders, but he gave way more than he got, never having much more than a bruise or a black eye on occasion. He just never saw what the community and his immediate superiors did - a good man, serving the people Boulder and the kids of the University the best way he knew how. --- John went out to his car - an unmarked Dodge - cranked it, and began the slow crawl toward the Turnpike then Wheat Ridge. One of the things he learned in his own initial officer training long ago was to never live in the county you worked in. It could always lead to problems with local offenders. So, it was up and over the Flatirons toward home. Even though traffic volume was already increasing as it spread toward Denver in the morning rush, his mind wandered as if on empty roads. He made the necessary turns though the city and came proximate to the University entrances, but was running his schedule through his mind. He was due for a weigh in at the doc’s today. And they usually took his measurements too. Height, waistline, all that stu -- John’s senses caught something in the barely lit dawn. Someone moving way too fast to be normally jogging to the right of his car. Moving toward campus. John slowed his vehicle and his brain went into observation mode. It captured the scene in moments with his practiced eyes and mind. A young man -- looking to be just outside of college age but could still belong to the University. Short, black hair. Trimmed beard. White button down shirt and navy slacks. Looked like there was some money invested in those clothes, certainly not cheap. Behind him, perhaps eight or so paces, was running - and running faster than the first - a white young man, shaved head, jeans and ratty t-shirt, tatted with jailhouse tattoos that stood out even under the fading street lamps. And, then John caught sight of a gun in the rear waistband of the second’s jeans. Semi-auto by the outline. Instinct took over. John turned his car in an instant, hit the flasher toggle for his lights, and wound with wildly fast, yet practiced precision toward the danger. Less than 20 seconds later, John pulled his car to a stop where his instincts said he could cut this off. “Boulder County Sheriff's Office -- ON THE GROUND NOW” John yelled as he leapt from his car and drew his weapon virtually simultaneously. The running suspect didn’t listen, just as John had expected. He instead broke his pursuit of the well-dressed man and taken off toward a side alleyway. But, John was good at his work. The offender was fast, but John - was FASTER. He holstered his weapon as he calculated his movements nearly autonomously. He had chosen his intercept point well. John calculated the takedown, knowing an almost undisputable, universal law - 95 percent of offenders have no idea of how to fight, and the remaining 5% seldom need to fight. And this one looked like the former. It took a few seconds, but just a few, for the whole pursuit to be over. Exactly two PPCT strikes and a normal compliance take down and the suspect wa on his back, with John twisting his arms and putting the handcuffs on. He never even had to hurt more than the punk’s pride. Once secured, John kept his knee in place just under the lower shoulder blades, cuffed arms resting on his quad, knowing a bodyweight advantage and leverage would be critical with this man who slightly outweighed him. “What’s your name?” John demanded as he patted down the suspect and quickly removed a 9mm weapon and several baggies of what looked like methamphetamine. “Fuck you” was the response. John smiled a bit and gave a half chuckle under his breath. He loved this a bit too much when it happened, and some mischievous streak in him just drove him to do it. “OK, Mister Fuk Yu. I am placing you under arrest for possession of an illegal firearm and possession of controlled substances. You have the right to remain silent …” John mirandized the “Mr. Fuck,” pulled him up to his feet, and maneuvered him the few yards to his car. He put the offender in the back seat and locked the door of his unmarked. The guy was going nowhere. Now, to more important matters. John made his way toward the young man being pursued - who had by now stopped and was almost collapsed on the sidewalk. Declann withdrew his cell, called 911, and requested uniformed officers to his location. He was upon the man on the sidewalk just as he hung up. John immediately knelt down to do a quick assessment of his condition. There were no obvious signs of trauma at the first once over. He then took a more careful look at the victim’s features. While he certainly wasn’t of student age, he was still under 30, John guessed. And, he was a very nice looking under 30 to boot. Blue eyes setting off dark, intense features. Old enough to just have the barest hint of a wrinkle at the eye but nothing else. John noted a rather slim body - the size of his own would have been were it not for his training in Aikido and Krav Maga. John felt a twinge of attraction. Yes, John was bisexual, but no one cared among his superiors anymore. Besides, he had always kept that part of himself separate when on duty. “You OK Sir? I can’t see any obvious injuries. Do you need an ambulance? ”John asked as he came and sat down at the man’s level. “Thank you . . . . officer, thank . . . you.” The man panted in reply with a pronounced British accent. “I was . . . just going toward my . . . lab . . . after my tea . . . when this fellow . . . started chasing me screaming at . . me. ” The young man was now gathering his breath, becoming easier to understand. John was a bit surprised to hear that English accent coming from him. Not unheard of, but still unusual in Boulder. “Did he assault you in any way?” The Englishman finally looked up to see John’s slightly older but obviously concerned and kind face. He visibly relaxed as he looked into John’s light brown eyes. “No, he never caught me but he was close. I am not exactly in running shorts and shoes here. But thanks to you, I’ll be OK. I do not know what would have happened if you had not arrived when you did.” “With what I found, I suspect he wanted to mug you. You are rather well dressed for campus, if I may observe. And, forgive me, if he heard you accent, you may have looked like an quick target as a tourist. When the uniform officers get here, you will need to give a statement to them, or you can give it to me if you prefer. We need to make sure this scumbag gets what he deserves.” “Of course. Anything I can do to assist, although I would be much happier speaking to you.” the man said giving just a hint of a smile. It was then that the uniformed officers in their black and white vehicles showed up. John excused himself for a moment, let the uniforms know what was going on, and allowed them to take the offender back to the jail for booking. John then returned to the man still sitting on the sidewalk. Pulling out a notebook he kept on him for times like this, John got all the pertinent information as he had done thousands of times before. Name, description of what happened, when, and why, if he knew. Any details the young man, who he had come to know as Gabriel York, may have remembered before, during, and after. As he took the statement, John became even more convinced this was an attempted mugging, perhaps for more drug money, maybe even more if that weapon came into play. Knowing he had all he needed, John said, “Finally, is there a way we can contact you if we have further questions. The staff from the District Attorney's office will be sure to want to speak with you about testimony if it comes to that. Although with the evidence we have, this one will probably plea. This is not his first time in jail.” Gabriel reached into his pocket for a very expensive-looking leather wallet and removed a business card. “This is my lab contact information. I am easiest to reach either here on campus or with my secretary. My other lab is ...a… well ... it is easier to reach me here. Again I can’t thank you enough, Sergeant.” “Believe me, Dr. York, it was my pleasure. I am just glad you are safe and sound.” John said. “Are you OK to go on your own or would you like me to escort you to your lab? I would be happy to do so.” “Thank you sir, but I think I’ll be fine. My lab is just over the hill in the Biological Sciences building.” Gabriel replied. “OK” John said, handing Gabriel a card of his own with his name, rank, and contact information on it. “This is my card. If you need anything or remember anything else, please do not hesitate to call me anytime, day or night.” “Of course. Sergeant Declann.” The Englishman arose with a friendly hand from John. Almost as an afterthought as he was leaving, York turned around. “Oh, Sergeant Declann, by the way. I do ….ah… certain work down at the Federal Center in Denver. I will have to report this incident to my superiors there and to the British consulate. In case there is testimony or something as you said. They may wish to speak with you. Just to make sure. You understand?” John nodded. Ah, he works with the feds as an international scholar of some kind, and the red tape must be dealt with. “Of course. No problem at all. I’m proximate to the Federal Center half the time anyway.” York nodded an ascent and turned again to walk away. John stood a moment watching - and admiring - Dr. York move until he was sure he was alright AND that he was moving toward the Biology building. He turned around and began to make his way back to his car. As he did, he looked down at the card: Gabriel York, MD. PhD., FACS Research Director/Professor of Medicine Advanced Bio-neurological Applications Project University of Colorado School of Medicine Hmmm, John thought. He looked a damned sight young to be in such a prestigious job, a full professor under 30 and with two doctorates at least. And a fellow of the ACS -- so why talk to the Consulate? John’s “detective sensor” started to sound off in his mind. This advanced applications thing wasn’t a program he was familiar with, but there were so many new research projects on campus these days. But, as soon as the “alert” came, he let it go. Probably a government grant given what he said about the Federal Center. John was reviewing the incident in his mind for his own after action report as he pulled onto the highway. Suddenly, there was a loud roar of a horn and air brakes. John never even saw the tractor trailer that plowed into his car, crumpling it in an instant like so much tissue paper and driving it 30 yards down the highway. Two Hours Later-- Trauma room one at the University of Colorado Hospital was abuzz with activity. At least a dozen doctors, nurses, and specialist technologists in yellow plastic smocks and shields hovered over a trauma bed doing a myriad of tasks to the man laying there. “What do we have?” the lead trauma surgeon said as he came into the room and took up control of the life-saving operation. On of the smocked figures raised up and stepped back, raising his shield. “John Declann, Caucasian male, age 39. Boulder County Sheriff’s Deputy. MVA - car versus tractor/trailer. Passenger was in a seatbelt with airbags deployed but required extraction by fire-rescue. Initial assessment shows superficial cranial abrasions, with most likely a simple concussion. No evidence of other cranial, brain, or upper spinal injuries. Seat belt bruising pattern is highly indicative of internal organ disruption, but nothing so far on physical examination and plain films of the abdomen. Lacerated and collapsed left lung, re-inflated with chest tube. Pneumothorax proximate to same lung injury also responding. Initial x-rays show compromised T-12 vertebral body and possible pelvic fracture. No apparent lower limb trauma beyond cuts and bruises from extrication from the vehicle. CT scans are coming up now for the spinal and pelvic injury areas. This was a driver’s side T-bone crash. I think that this guy’s level of fitness is why we’re talking about saving his life and not pronouncing him.” the lead resident efficiently rattled off. The lead surgeon took a look at the patient, and agreed with the resident’s assessment. John was alive because of his trained, flexible, body and more than a little random chance. But what kind of life was it going to be? The doctor walked over to the computer terminal screens and pulled up the CT scans. The pelvis showed a simple left side Ilium fracture. Non-displaced. Something the orthopods could deal with easy enough. He then flipped to the scan of John’s spine -- and frowned. “Fuck,” he said under his breath as he looked. He sat down on a stool and zoomed, in, out, rotated, and closely examined the different views provided by the technology. The burst fracture was unmistakable and at precisely the worst spot for leg function. As he walked back to John, the doctor barked orders to the residents and nurses, while he removed an ink pen from his pocket. He ran the pen up first one foot and then the other. Goddamnit, he thought. The veteran doc’s heart sunk even more. “Get neurosurg here stat. Tell them severe impact, burst fracture at T-12, CT visualization and reflex response indicative of cord injury.” The room went silent for a moment before carrying on. It was always hard to treat an officer. Much less for this. The supervising physician turned and again just looked at the radiology. The soft tissue injuries were no walk in the park, but were easily fixable, recoverable in just a few weeks, the pelvis in a couple of months, except …. that. There was no hope for that, in his experience. This man would be paralyzed. Five minutes later the head of neurosurgery looked at the same CT scans, and came to the same conclusion. No hope. They could do an exploratory, check and see if by some miracle there was just pressure on the cord from a fragment, but not likely. Better to just do a vertebral stabilization with the orthopods, but his chances to recover function … Declann had been stabilized and was ready for transfer to have his lung laceration repaired. As he was about to be moved, another man in a white coat burst into the trauma room. One look from him toward John, and his eyes moistened. “I...I...can’t believe it.” the black haired man wept at the side of the bed. “I had to be sure.” The man almost looked skyward, “Why him?” Gabriel tenderly wiped a finger down John’s cheek. “Gabriel?” the head of neuro looked up. “What are you doing here? Do you know this man?” “This man, he saved my life this morning, not even four hours ago. Kept me from getting mugged by this man with a gun. Everyone heard the crash and when I saw that the wreckage was his car. Is he going to be OK?” Gabriel was out of breath and had obviously lost clinical detachment between the events of this morning and the shock of seeing the officer who had been so kind and patient with him lying there. He would have been removed if treatment were still going on, but it was basically complete save moving him to OR. The two attendings just nodded toward the computer screens with the radiology still on it. Gabriel walked from John’s head side, looked, and was overcome with remorse and guilt. Had he just been at his normal time, 15 minutes later, none of this would have happened. But, he just HAD to check on a minor experiment. And now, this man lay here because of him. Gabriel zoomed in to the machine’s maximum sensitivity. He looked again and again. Through a choking voice, Gabriel looked around and almost whispered. “Jack, can you send me these scans please? To my secondary lab.” The lead neurosurgeon looked horrified, searching for a reason not to. “Gabriel. You can’t be serious. You know I can’t do that. It violates protocol, federal law--” Gabriel cut him off, almost angrily “Jack you know I can take care of that with one call to Washington.” “What are you going to do?” Jack asked, never having seen such anger in the young, brilliant surgeon and scientist. “IF I can, if there is anything I can do, I am going to try and help this man.’ “You can’t have a man as a lab r--. I can’t sanc---” Jack stumbled. Gabriel stood to his full height, taking on an almost military bearing. “You know I can and will go over your head if I have to. I will have him removed if I must.” Gabriel took a breath and seemed to calm a bit. “Jack I am not promising that I can or will do anything, I do not know if there is anything to do. But I have to try. I owe it to him. He is here because of me. I have to try or I’ll never forgive myself.” Jack knew Gabriel could follow through on his threats in an instant. He had seen some small manifestations of Gabriel’s connections to political power before, and he knew that interference in hospital functions was the very least of what he could do. As much as Jack detested it, with this kind of anger Gabriel could bring down the mountain on top of his whole hospital. But, as it was, there was nothing anyone could do for Officer Declann, not even York. Jack just silently waved his fingers in a gesture of defeat, nodded an ascent, and transferred access to Gabriel as primary attending physician. “Thank you Jack. I owe you about 10 times over for this.” “I WILL HOLD YOU TO THAT,” the older surgeon replied, his voice suddenly sharpened. “And I insist on one thing. Before you present him any of those things you do that I do not have a clue about, you will at least get his consent.” Gabriel looked like he had been shot himself and his voice shook, “I would NEVER do anything to harm him.” York turned on a heel and left the room, walking out of the ER doors, and toward his car in the parking lot. As soon as he was in the vehicle with the door closed, he pulled from his pocket an encrypted cell phone with just one number it could access, locked to his fingerprint. A male voice answered in military precision, “Yes, Doctor York?” “Codeword Ariana. I want the full computer network prepped for simulator study based on some CT scans that will be coming from CU Trauma ER shortly. Run the program with emergent parameters and stand by to report when I get there. Not a proof of concept level scan, Don, but full cellular level calculations. I am leaving the hospital now. We have 24 hours at the most to complete simulations. And...ah.. Don. This is important to me, personally.” “Yes SIR,” the sharp voice on the other end said. Gabriel could not quite understand what he was feeling, this pull toward this man. He didn’t know the man existed six hours ago. Sure, there was guilt and anger and sadness. But, he just could not remove from his mind those eyes he saw this morning. Those haunted, caring brown eyes. Something about him. This John Declann. He did not know what. But he saw it in his eyes. He deserved more than this, and Gabriel would find out why. He would make it happen, he willed it to happen as he drove toward the freeway. This good man would walk again.
  3. Part 1 – The High School Hero Chapter 1 I’ve never embraced the spotlight. I’ve had many chances at having the center of attention all to myself, but that’s not who I am as a person. I like to be just on the outskirts of the spotlight—close enough that I can feel its warmth and people can see me, but not so close that it blinds me. If I wanted to be magnificently famous, it would have happened. I had many opportunities. Instead, though, I stayed on those outskirts. My life has changed drastically depending on whose outskirts I was staying on. The high school hero, the college con-artist, the West California wild card, the Hollywood hunk—they each changed me in very different ways. But I don’t want to tell my whole life story—every grocery trip, every load of laundry, every DMV line. I do want to give the highlights, though. Because, oh, have I had some highlights. But I’m getting a little ahead of myself. I guess I should really start by explaining my nickname. My name is Gerald P. Vaughn, but it’s my most intimate nickname that really matters. I’ve had many casual nicknames throughout my life, but only a select few have ever called me The Repository. My high school boyfriend gave that particular nickname to me. I didn’t know then why Gregg picked me. He was the hunky hero of the football team. I was the editor of yearbook who spent my weekends writing fan-fic of Spider-man and The Hunger Games. He had firm, taut muscles and dazzlingly blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. I had a somewhat slight frame, and mud-brown hair and eyes. He was well over six feet tall. I was a slightly more than average 6’, my only really distinguishing feature being my height. He came from money and was super popular. I worked at a deli part time to help the family expenses and had a small but tight-knit circle of friends. Gregg and I only met because we had the same AP English class. I’d noticed him freshman year, but I don’t think he even knew my name until we had that English class together. At our little high school in Illinois, any student taking an AP class senior year had to take a special one-day seminar at the end of their junior years to give us our summer assignments so we could hit the ground running come September. That’s where Gregg and I officially met. He asked me out, and we dated in secret all summer. He was still closeted, so we couldn’t date openly, but I was still a teenager—so I didn’t really care. I liked having him as my secret. We would spend muggy summer afternoons in my attic bedroom in each other’s embrace. We didn’t do a lot of talking, but we spent a lot of time together. I couldn’t get enough of his athletic torso and pert pecs. He couldn’t get enough of my kisses. Gregg told me I was an amazing kisser. He wouldn’t be the last. A few months into our relationship, a week after my 18th birthday, we finally decided it was time to go beyond the heavy petting and hand jobs and try some serious sex. After the dance of condoms and lube, Gregg prepared to top me. He pounded me dutifully with his girthy 5 inches, but lasted all of two minutes. Apparently, Mr. Football Hotshot was a virgin before he started dating me. He’d had girlfriends, he'd told me, but I guess none of those girls had gotten as far with him as I had. I wasn’t going to hold it against him; I was a virgin before I started dating him too. When he finished, he told me it was my turn. My head was so filled with stereotypes about gay sex and who tops who that I actually didn’t expect he’d give me a turn topping, and I was so excited to try. I put the condom on my eager (and perfectly average) 6 inch dick, and I began working myself into him. I wanted to fuck him hard and good, but given the disparity in our bodies, I didn’t think I could. Then, instinctively, it occurred to me. “Lend me ten pounds,” I said. “What?” he asked in a fog of sex and confusion. “Lend me ten pounds of muscle,” I repeated, adding, “Please.” Perhaps thinking it was some kind of role play, he meekly said, “Okay. You can borrow ten pounds of muscle.” As soon as he said it, his muscles diminished a little. He was still firm and big, but nowhere near as big as he had just been. At the same time, I felt my body become more solid, stronger, taking up more space. My flat chest blossomed a little, my arms thickened, my abs tightened, my ass firmed. His ten pounds were in my body, and I used them to start fucking him harder and more thoroughly. Gregg looked at our bodies, and a look of joy spread over his face as I picked up the pace of my fucking. “You can borrow another ten, as long as you fuck me senseless,” he said, giving into the passion. Ten more pounds melted off his physique. He still looked fit and healthy with a trim midsection, but he looked more like an up-and-coming football player rather than a football star. I, meanwhile, now looked like I’d been working out for years, building my body up to teenaged muscular perfection. My chest was thick and proud, my arms were strong and solid, and my ass flexed into round relief as I plowed Gregg thoroughly. He came for the second time before I came once. But when I did climax, the might I had in my borrowed muscles flexed and tensed, drawing up close to the surface. Looking down at my reduced boyfriend, my body was thicker and meatier than his, a realization that spurred my orgasm to greater heights. I pulled out and rolled over so we could spoon, and as soon as he had his arms around me, I said, “Okay. You can have them back now.” When I said it, my form returned to its normal state, and the arms around me grew strong and burly, Gregg’s arms as I had come to know them.
  4. Following on from my "Muscle University" story and the "Deano's Summer" spin-off, I've written a new eight-chapter novella length follow-up. Set four/five months after the last story ended, Deano goes back to his hometown of Brighton for the first time since the summer. DEANO’S WINTER (A MUSCLE UNIVERSITY STORY) One “Here he is. The famous Deano!” I smile awkwardly as Shaun’s dad strides up to me with his hand outstretched. A big warm smile on his handsome, rugged face. He’s like an older rougher version of Shaun with sandy blonde hair. He’s pretty built but he’s no bodybuilder. He shakes my hand and then grabs my shoulder. “Bloody hell!” he says as he feels my muscle, his eyes widening. I feel a flutter of excitement and can’t help but smirk. “Shaun wasn’t kidding,” he says, slapping and squeezing my shoulder. “You’re a right little tank!” Shaun pulls a face and rolls his eyes as he lifts his suitcase off his bed. “Well … not little. Only cause, you know …” and then he puts a flat hand above my head to highlight the fact that I’m such a short arse. “Fucking hell, dad!” Shaun says, with a big sigh. “Oi! Watch your language!” I roll my tongue around the inside of my cheek in an attempt to hide my smile at watching Shaun’s dad embarrass him. There’s another reason why I’m smiling too. Because it reminds me so much of how my own dad talks to me. And I know for a fact if he were here right now picking up to take me back home for the Christmas holidays he’d be embarrassing the fuck out of me in front of my roommate and best mate at Muscle University. “What time’s your train then, Deano?” “Eleven fifteen,” I tell Shaun’s dad as I zip my suitcase up. He looks at his watch. “Ahhh, we’ve got plenty of time.” Shaun has asked his dad if he’ll give me a lift to the train station in Glasgow. “Cheers for the lift by the way,” I say, feeling a little awkward. “No worries, fella,” he says. “Bit far for your old man to come and get you, from Brighton isn’t it?” I smile and nod, while thinking, “Thank fucking God.” Even if Shaun weren’t here, the chances are my dad would find some way to embarrass me if he were to come up here and pick me up from campus. And now I suddenly have an image in my head of trailing behind my dad as he storms down one of the corridors of Johnson Hall in a “Deano’s Gym” t-shirt barking at me at an unnecessary volume. “Come on. Get a bloody move on, you little shit! I haven’t got all bloody day!” Half of my fucking year watching the scene and sniggering at my expense. I put my black North Face jacket on over my favourite black Montgomery University hoodie which somehow makes me look like even more of a tank. “You lads ready then?” Mr Hudson says. “Yes, dad!” he whines, pulling a face, causing me to smirk again. As I lift my suitcase off my bed, I feel this strong sense of poignancy. Since our last lecture of the term ended yesterday I’ve felt this weird mix of nostalgia and sadness. That the term is over. And now I feel it more than ever as me, Shaun and his dad make our way out and I take my last look at our second-year Johnson Hall dorm room until the New Year. I’m probably just being overdramatic, but I can’t help it. This has honestly been the best term I’ve had since I started at the Montgomery University of Bodybuilding & Fitness. I don’t really know why. I think it’s a mixture of things. Being a second-year feels a bit more relaxed. It’s pretty cool knowing you’re not amongst the youngest and smallest students anymore. The lecturers seem to respect us a bit more. Even Johnny Hoxton, who I was convinced didn’t like me last year, now seems to have warmed to me a bit. I think. At least that’s the feeling I get. I guess I’ve calmed down a bit too since that first year. That’s probably helped. I’m less of a loud-mouthed twat now. I dunno. I don’t really feel the need to do any of that stuff anymore. Shout out in class. Act like a complete twat. And in turn, I’ve found myself making some new friends and hanging out with people I didn’t last year. There’s a little group of us who have started going to the Students’ Union Bar every Saturday. Me, Shaun, Eric Mafra (still the biggest dude in the year) and Ashley Mosaku who is an absolute fucking beast. Crazy quads. A massive arse. He’s a bit of a loudmouth actually. He’s kind of taken over my role. Cocky as hell. But he’s not annoying with it. I kind of just find it funny. He actually reminds me a bit of mad cunt Tony from back home in Brighton. Kind of like if Tony was a hot jacked tank of a bodybuilder from South London. I’m calling Ash hot (which he definitely is) but don’t worry, I’m not secretly pining after him or anything. I have no interest in ever pining after a fellow student again. Or a bodybuilder slash personal trainer who, oooh, I dunno, happens to work at my dad’s gym or something. No more pining. No more obsessively checking Instagram profiles. No more standing at the back of Posing Practice feeling a knot in my stomach wishing I was the person Sebastian Wood was standing next to and occasionally whispering to and grinning at (I’m not even in the same Posing Practice lesson as them this year). No more lying on my bed with my arm wrapped around my back wishing it belonged to someone else. I’m done with that shit. I’m really fucking done with it. About an hour later and I’m settling into my seat on the train. As I’m taking my jacket off, I notice two men walking through the carriage and towards me. The way they’re looking at me. Fuck. One turns his head and looks at the other (his boyfriend maybe?) and they exchange little knowing smirks. It makes me feel a bit nervous and awkward but at the same time, I dunno, it kind of gives me a little rush too. And now they’re past me and walking into the next carriage, I’m finding that I’m suddenly smiling to myself. I look at my reflection in the train window. I still have the same haircut I’ve had since I started university. Even though I told my dad I was thinking of changing it back in the summer after - well, after what happened, I didn’t. I think I kind of thought why should I change it? Just because - well, just because. This black hoodie used to fit me really well, but because I’ve packed on more size since September, it’s getting a bit tight around my upper arms. I’ll probably have to buy a bigger sized one soon (which will no doubt be way too long in the arms - the perks of being a short-arsed pocket rocket bodybuilder). I wonder if I flexed hard enough the seams on the arms would rip? I smirk at that thought. If I suggested that to Shaun and Ash at the SU bar when we’d been drinking they’d probably make me do it to see if the hoodie actually did rip. I like who I am when I’m with those lads. Even though they don’t know everything about me. Even though there’s this whole side to me they know nothing about. And might be surprised at. I don’t really feel like I’m lying to the lads. Nor do I feel like what they see of me is an act. They just see certain parts of me. And I think I’m maybe starting to enjoy the fact that I have this secret that not many people know about. That I don’t really get to act on or indulge in much up here at Muscle University. (Save for the time I was sitting on Sebastian Wood’s bed wearing nothing but my maroon red velvet posing trunks, pumped and sweaty from flexing and posing for him.) It feels kinda weird to be going back home. The further I get from Glasgow the more the last few months seem like a distant memory and the more I find my thoughts slipping to the last time I was home. I don’t really think about last summer too much. It felt so far away when I was at uni. But now, these memories keep coming back. Things I try not to think about. Even though I sometimes do. As my second train from London begins to approach Brighton, I get that familiar sense of poignancy I always do. I love the familiarity of home. The fact that nothing here changes. I know exactly what’s waiting for me here. My room will look the same as it did when I left. Josh will be the same old Josh he always is. Annoyingly carefree, occasionally hyper, even more annoyingly good looking. Dad will be the same old dad too. I don’t think he’ll ever change. I find myself smiling as I think about that. When I look at my phone I find a text from Tony asking me if I’m still up for going out tonight. Which I most definitely am. I can just imagine what my dad will say about that. I roll my tongue around the inside of my cheek to stop from smiling when I spot my dad’s black Land Rover outside the station. I don’t want him to think I’m, like, happy to see him or anything. “Come on!” he barks impatiently, followed by a loud sigh as I get in the passenger seat. The train was about ten minutes late getting in. “Nice to see you too, dad.” “Why was it so bloody late getting in?” I shrug. “I dunno!” He sighs loudly again and shakes his head. I smirk and turn my head to look out of the passenger window. Same old dad. He really never does change. I think about asking him how the gym is. But then I think better of it. As we drive towards the end of the road I see all of the Christmas decorations lit up in the streets. I’d totally forgotten about this. North Street is packed. There are people everywhere out shopping. It’s only now that I’m starting to realise just how much I’ve missed this town. “You’re erm …” my dad pauses and clears his throat, “not seeing those twat friends of yours tomorrow are you?” Why does he sound weird? I look at him suspiciously. “Why?!” He shoots me a stern look. I’m expecting him to bark something else at me, but he doesn’t. He turns back to face the road. “We’re going out.” “Where?!” I say, screwing my face up. Dad groans. “For lunch! Is that okay with you?” I shrug. “Suppose!” I can’t remember my dad ever taking me out to Sunday lunch before. “With mum and Gary?” “No.” “What - just you, me and Josh then?” He lets out another loud sigh. “When are you going back to uni?” Josh’s dance music is blaring from his bedroom when I get back home. “Do you have to have that music so bloody loud?” my dad barks as he walks into the kitchen and I’m hanging my jacket up. I walk into the kitchen and there he is. My big brother, Joshua, looking even more annoyingly good looking as ever. He’s wearing a tight fitted grey t-shirt. His modest pecs spilling out of the V neck collar. “Yo lil’ broski!” he says to me. “All right?” “Bloody hell. You look HUGE!” he says to me. I look down. Weirdly, I feel bigger than I normally do now that I’m back home with dad and Josh. Rather than on a university campus surrounded by bulging muscle lads. “I should bloody think so!” my dad says. Me and Josh exchange smirks. “What time’s dinner?” I ask my dad, sitting down at the table. “MY dinner’s in about an hour. I don’t know what you’re making yourself. There might be a frozen pizza in the freezer somewhere.” I pull a face and roll my eyes. “WHY?” my dad asks, suspiciously. I shrug. “Going out with Tony,” I casually say. “Fucking hell!” he groans. Yep. There it is. I look at Josh and we smile at each other. “Don’t you be getting into a bloody state for tomorrow!” “Why?!” My dad clears his throat. “Told you earlier,” he says, not looking at me, “we’re going out.” I screw my face up. “It’s only lunch.” Josh gives dad a look. This suspicious smirk on his face. He’s practically giddy. What the fuck is going on? “Haven’t you told D, yet?” he asks. Dad rolls his eyes and sits down opposite me, not making eye contact. “Told me what?” For some reason, my stomach clenches sharply. And I get this horrible feeling that I’m really not going to like whatever my brother’s about to say next. “Dad’s got a girlfriend!” *** And anyone who followed the original thread will have seen these already but I thought I'd include the below illustrations of Deano. The first was drawn by @brawnygods and the second by @Rayjacked - both incredibly talented artists who have profiles here.
  5. So those of you following my "Muscle University" thread will know that I've been working on this - a spin-off story featuring and told from the point of view of the Deano character. For anyone who needs a recap, Deano was the antagonist of that story who spent most of his time harassing Woody for things like flirting with gay dudes on Instagram and wearing pink trunks to Posing Practice 101. But while Woody was reluctantly falling for this new roommate Luke, it turned out Deano was secretly harbouring secret for Woody. This takes place over the summer following the lads' first year at Montgomery University of Bodybuilding & Fitness, where Deano goes back home to help out as his dad's infamous hardcore bodybuilding gym with Woody and Luke and the events of the first story very much still on his mind. I've also set up a Twitter account in Deano's name here and I've been posting and interacting with some lads from here as Deano. I'll also be tweeting the events of the story as I post chapters. Thought it would be a fun extra thing to do to go with the story! DEANO’S SUMMER (A MUSCLE UNIVERSITY STORY) One I can’t stop thinking about it. It just keeps going round and round in my head. The image of the two of them together. Why the FUCK did I go to the Watson House gym on the last day of term? I was doing fine before that. Honest I was. I hadn’t been thinking about him for half as much time as I used to. But now, as I’m on the train from London to Brighton - the last leg of my journey home, all I can think about is what I saw yesterday when I walked into my favourite gym at university. Sebastian fucking Wood in that black vest he always wears, playfully knocking his shoulder against Luke Henderson’s. I know it doesn’t sound like much. But it just did something to me. The way Woody was looking at him. (You should have seen the way he was looking at him.) The grin on his face. And the way Henderson was looking back at him. It’s like the image is ingrained in my memory. Every time I think about it, it feels like someone’s twisting all of my insides. I’m so fucking glad my first year of university is over. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve loved being a student at the Montgomery University of Bodybuilding & Fitness (or Muscle University as a lot of us call it). I get to train and study all things muscle-related with a whole school of fellow meatheads and bodybuilders. What the fuck’s not to love? The teachers are awesome (some more so than others). I get to hang out with other budding bodybuilders all day. And I’m one of the best lads in my year. At least top five anyway. But the last few months have been a bit weird if I’m being honest. There have even been times when I’ve found myself looking forward to the end of term. To going back home to Brighton for the summer. I guess it all started when Johnny Hoxton forced me to do an assignment for the end of term bodybuilding show with him. Sebastian Wood. With his big, thick pecs which hang over his perfect, blocky abs. And all of his shiny posing trunks. (Why does any bodybuilder need THAT many pairs of trunks?) And that smile. That jawline. And the way he’s just sickeningly good looking. Like he doesn’t even have to try. And the way he fucking struts around campus like he’s God’s gift. Mr fucking Perfect. The dude even smells amazing. And all of his twatty put-downs and one-liners which he thinks are SO fucking funny, when most of the time they’re not. Who the hell is Chris Hemsworth anyway? And while I’m thinking about it - what kind of twat name is Sebastian? What kind of twat name is WOODY? Sebastian “Woody” Wood. The bane of my Muscle University life. He didn’t even bother me that much to start with. Okay - I thought about him. Like, a lot. I even thought we might become friends at some point. I kept imagining how that would happen. Like, one day we’d suddenly start talking and just hit it off and that would be it. We’d be mates. We’d hang out. We’d go to the gym together. He’d come round to my dorm room. In that black vest, he always wears. And those skinny jeans which look painted on. His thighs bulging underneath the denim material. His big arse barely contained by it. But then he showed up. Luke Henderson. The biggest fucking joke to ever set foot on campus. I’ll never forget that first Posing Practice 101 when I first saw him. I couldn’t believe they’d let him into the uni. That was definitely Johnny Hoxton’s doing. There’s no way Mike Hancox would have let Henderson in. Hancox is definitely the best teacher at Montgomery. He used to compete in the nineties and early noughties and he’s basically a fucking legend. I can tell he doesn’t really like Woody either. Unlike Johnny Hoxton, who practically lives up his arse for some reason. Hancox’s face when Henderson rushed into that first lesson wearing that stupid Lego t-shirt was fucking hilarious. The dude looked like he’d barely seen the inside of a gym. Okay, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration. He definitely had some muscle on him. But a student at a university for bodybuilders? What an absolute joke. He wasn’t even wearing posing trunks for fuck’s sake. The one and only requirement for Posing Practice 101. He had to do the whole lesson wearing his boxer shorts. And not just any old boxers either. Bright yellow Harry Potter boxers! The weird thing is, at the beginning, Woody seemed to have a real problem with him as well. Hancox forced Luke to do a pose off with another student and Woody volunteered. He really fucking showed him up. I think I started to like him even more after that. But then something even weirder happened. For some reason, they became friends. Woody and Henderson. I suppose it was because they were roommates. Spending all that time together. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if me and Woody had been roommates instead. Whether we would have become mates. Or maybe even something more. Anyway, everything changed after that. For some reason, the fact that they were friends really bothered me. And then I took the piss out of Henderson because he was trying to hit a most muscular in Posing Practice (I mean … you should have fucking seen him!) and Woody just flipped and went mental and pushed me really hard and we kind of had a bit of a fight. And then Johnny fucking Hoxton made us do that stupid joint assignment together for the end of term bodybuilding show (which I’m still pissed that I didn’t get to compete in) and that’s when things got kind of complicated. My train is slowing down on the approach to Brighton station. People around me are starting to shift in their seats, grabbing their bags and luggage and putting their jackets on. I always feel this kind of poignancy whenever I come back home. I guess I feel kind of safe here. Or at least safer than I do when I’m at Montgomery. In moments like this, when I’m looking out at all the buildings and houses and I know the sea is behind them, it’s easy to forget that things at home aren’t exactly perfect. I don’t know what it is about Brighton. There’s a sort of energy to the whole town that I’ve never felt anywhere else. I love the way all the lamp posts and railings on the seafront are painted green. And the way the streets and roads dip up and down. And the sound of the seagulls wherever you go. It feels like everyone is here because they really want to be. I feel strangely proud that I was born and raised in a place so many people seem to be drawn to. (To get an idea of what Brighton looks like… https://www.instagram.com/brighton/ ) I notice a few people looking at me as I walk through the train station. I suppose it’s not every day you see a tank sized junior bodybuilder casually walking (okay - it’s probably more like waddling) with a suitcase dragging behind him. I’m pretty decently dressed too. My body’s covered up by my favourite black Montgomery University hoodie, which I’m now regretting wearing, because I’m pretty fucking warm. Apparently it’s gonna get really hot this week so I guess I should get used to this kind of attention. I swear it would be worse if I wasn’t only five feet, five inches tall. Someone like Woody must get gawped at wherever he goes. Ugh. Fucking Woody. And now my insides are clenching again as I think about my fellow Montgomery classmate. What are the chances he and Henderson will decide to drop out and not return to Muscle University for our second year? God - that would just solve all of my fucking problems. There’s the usual line of taxis at the front of the station. I get this weird feeling when I spot my brother’s red Ford KA. Like I’m both comforted and guarded. I guess there’s a certain version of myself that I adopt when I come back home. Or more so, when I’m around my brother and my dad. I throw my suitcase in the back seat and then climb into the front. “Alright, twat face!” Josh says to me with a big grin. I smirk and do my belt up. “Managed to get through a whole term without getting suspended this time?” he jokes, as we pull away from the station. My chest tightens. I give him a fake sarcastic smile and look out of the side window. He blasts the radio up. Some dance tune is playing and he’s singing and bopping along. Josh never changes. He has this kind of larger than life energy about him. It’s like he only has one setting. And it’s always “on”. Sometimes it’s contagious and charming. Other times it's just bloody annoying. “You do know dad’s not gonna let you just bum around for the summer?” he says. He’s got this smug smirk on his face. Josh always seems to get some kind of satisfaction out of my misfortune. I pull a face. “What’s he expecting me to do?” “Help out at the gym!” For fuck’s sake. I guess that was a given. I hate how my dad just expects me to help out at his gym. It’s not the worst thing, to be honest. But … I don’t know. I guess I had thoughts of maybe doing something different this summer. “I was actually thinking of looking for a job,” I tell Josh. I don’t know why I’m nervous to confess that. I shouldn’t be nervous. Josh immediately screws his face up. Like it’s an absurd notion. Me actually getting a job and doing something away from him and dad. “Why? You know Dad’ll pay you!” Ugh. That’s really not the point. “I know that!” Josh still looks completely baffled by the idea. “Anyway, what would you do?! I mean … who’s gonna employ YOU?” he teases, with a smirk. I flash him another fake, sarcastic smile. “Maybe you could be one of those naked butler dudes?” Then he gasps. “Or a Dream Boy? Nah - you have to be good looking for that!” I shake my head and roll my eyes. “Now I could be a fucking Dream Boy!” I fold my arms and look out of the window again. My brother’s now crossed the line into “bloody annoying”. “Maybe one of those gay clubs on the seafront will hire you as a go-go boy?” My stomach clenches. I don’t respond or look at Josh. I just keep looking out of the window. “Jesus - what’s wrong with YOU?” he cries, hitting me on the shoulder. “I’m tired. And you’re annoying the FUCK out of me!” This big grin emerges on Josh’s face and I can’t help but smile back. Here’s the deal with my brother. I love him and everything, but … God - let’s just say it wasn’t easy growing up having Joshua Watkins as my older sibling. Josh was that guy at school that ALL the girls fancied. No matter what year they were in. He was like a fucking celebrity, for God’s sake. And he’s only gotten more handsome with age. He’s got this part bad boy, party pretty boy thing going on. A shaved head. A ring in his nose. And he’s got these big puppy dog eyes. He got those from our mum. He’d probably fit in in a boy band just as much as he’d fit in in prison. He’s done a few bodybuilding competitions too, so he’s pretty big, but he doesn’t take it as seriously as me and dad do. He’s too much of a party boy. I don’t know where he gets his height from. Me and dad are both short arses, but Josh is six foot tall. So yeah - I was pretty jealous of him growing up. The number of girls who were shocked when they found out we were brothers. I’ll never forget that one girl from the year above when I was in the school canteen that one time. “YOU’RE Josh Watkins’ brother?!” she cried, with her face screwed up. She obviously couldn't believe that demigod, boyband member worthy Josh could be related to me. “Oh - Smithy’s having a birthday thing tonight. You’re coming, right?” Ugh. “Mmmm. I dunno!” “WHAT?!” Josh cries. “Fucking YES - you’re coming!” Smithy is one of Josh’s old school mates. Something weird happened when I started going to the gym, packing on the mass and competing as a junior in bodybuilding competitions. Josh and his older mates all suddenly wanted me to hang around with them. I guess it was kind of cool being initiated into your older brother’s friend group. Most of them are decent lads. Some are pretty beefy too. Okay - most of them are pretty beefy. I think they respect me cause I’m Josh’s little brother. Oh - and I’m a tank sized pocket rocket bodybuilder with biceps bigger than ALL of theirs. Honestly - I like hanging around with them, but they’re all just so full on. I’m really not sure if I’m in the mood for that tonight. “I’ve just spent, like, eight hours on three different trains!” I protest. “Don’t be a fucking pussy. It’s your first night back.” Josh turns the music up. I roll my eyes, but this unexpected feeling of excitement rises up in my chest as I look out of the side window again and see the sea past a row of differently coloured houses in a street that feels like it could only be in Brighton. I mostly just want to go back home, collapse on my bed and watch TV all night. But there’s this other part of me that really wants to go out with Josh and his mates tonight. With anyone in fact. Maybe this is what I need. Maybe this will take my mind off Montgomery University. Make me forget what happened yesterday at the Watson House gym and what has been going through my mind over and over ever since. “Fuck it!” I say to Josh. “I’m in.” “Good lad!” he says, slapping my shoulder again and cranking the volume of the music up even more. I slump down in my seat and close my eyes. Taking the music in. The sound of seagulls in the distance. Thinking about tonight. Only tonight. And absolutely, unequivocally, not thinking about the way Sebastian Wood was smiling and looking at Luke Henderson in a way that no one has ever looked at me before.
  6. Anaxagoras

    muscle breast Let's Make a Bet

    My boyfriend Travis has always been a big dude. We’d been friends ever since freshman year in high school. And I mean, he was big then. Always tall…not ferociously so, but definitely a head and a half above me. Good abs, decent legs, not much on the biceps. But holy shit, this boy had always owned some huge pecs. They were disproportionate, without a doubt. He actually looked like he had breasts if he turned the right way. That was the joke I’d always make…I’d call them his boobs, smack them lightly, he’d laugh and usually push me. He said it was genetics, but I’d always find him in the weight room after school, pumping iron and nothing else. I’d tell him that he needed to vary his workouts or he’d only grow one muscle group, but I think he was too lunkheaded to really get it…that, and I think he knew what he was doing, too. Well, senior year arrived. By then, I had figured out just which kind of people I liked…and Travis was one of them. And like I said, he’d always been a big dude. Still head and shoulders above me, but he’d bulked up a fair bit in four years. Gentle biceps, carved abs, stellar legs (he had joined Varsity soccer, you see). But yes, as I’m sure you’re jerking to, his pecs had ballooned. He was bigger than most the girls in our grade. Fat and weighty, yet impossibly wide and strong, shirt stretching and fabric busting, he actually had breasts at this point. I’m sure his back would have been sore every morning…if his back wasn’t wide enough to be a small table. We had kept close, even with him being a total jock and me a theatre idiot (and I use the term endearingly). The routine was the same. He’d chat idly about his workout, I’d call them boobs, smack them, and he’d shove me over. He was a strong boy. The last day of senior year arrived. It was bittersweet for sure. Travis and I had promised to keep in touch; I was going to Oneonta, he was going to Binghamton. Close, but by no means an easy drive. We were chilling after our last class, alone in the hallway. It was nostalgic, for sure, but I was trying to work up the courage to tell him how I felt. How his smile melted my heart, how he was just such a sweetheart and a goofball and how I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. Ah, high school. So when he smiled sadly and bounced his pecs hard in his shirt, I kind of felt my body moving on it’s own. “Me and the boobs are gonna miss you!” My hands went to smack his pecs like always…and lingered. Before I knew what I was doing, my hands had completely enclosed his pecs and were squeezing gently. Travis’s eyes closed tight and he let out a startled grunt. I drew back instantly, trying to play it off. “S-sorry, a bit much…” He opened his eyes, gasping gently. “D-do that again.” Shocked, I slowly gave his pecs another thick squeeze, a little more firmly than before. Travis visibly rocked, biting his lip with those perfect teeth. Gasping in pleasure, his eyes fluttered as I chanced another grope. I became very very aware of a swelling bulge in the front of his gym shorts, thick and gorged. He was big everywhere! The more I squeezed, the harder he got. The harder I clenched, the harder his cock pulsed to life. I began to rhythmically squeeze and knead, my own cock swelling as I massaged and fondled my crush’s immense, heavy pecs. Finally we both seemed to realize where we were. In no time someone would walk down the hallway and see us. Travis’ eyes flickered naughtily and he grinned down at me. “Like them, huh?” I flushed hard, averting my eyes. “Wh-what can I say? Always had a thing for your b…pecs…” He snickered, slowly but surely peeling off his shirt. I flushed even harder, looking down the hallway. “T-Travis!” He grinned, letting his shirt drop to the floor. I got hard the second his enormous, heavy pecs tumbled out to rest on his washboard abs. “Relax. We’re adults now.” He pulled me in, humping our cocks together slowly. “And you can call them boobs. I have you to thank for getting me so into them!” He was getting closer and closer, my hands trembling as they rested on his bulging pecs. “T-Travis…” He was inches away, his breath hot on my lips. “Would have never grown them this big…never gotten so enamored with them…if not for you.” And then he kissed me. Lights exploded in my brain as his lips pushed into mine. My hand went to rub his carved, angular jawline as my other continued to squeeze and fondle his behemoth pec. As he pulled off slowly, his mouth broke into that dazzling grin I’d grown so fond of. He hitched his thumbs into his waistband, cock still rock hard under his shorts. I grabbed his hands quickly, head whipping down the hall. I hissed through closed teeth, mortified and impossibly aroused at the same time. “Travis!” He wiggled his eyebrows, smirking cockily. “Who cares? What will they do? Send us to the principals on the last day of our senior year?” I pushed him just out of view, breath coming fast. “Travis, please! L-let’s find a bathroom or something…” He touched my chin with his baseball-mitt sized hand. “Let’s make a deal. If you give me a hand job right here, right now…” He leaned in, humping once, firm and hard, sending shivers through us both. “…I’ll be your boyfriend.” My breath caught in my throat. Travis kissed me again, guiding my hand to his throbbing member. Jesus, he felt huge. “T-Travis…let’s be real. We’re going to different colleges…you’re obviously going to find others…” He pushed me against the opposite wall, in full view of the adjoining hall as he pinned my arms above my head, kissing me long and deep, his huge pecs shoving against my chest. “Do I look like a fucking idiot to you? Why would I go for a dime a dozen twink or chick when I have my best friend, my biggest admirer and encourager…right here?” This was a side I had never seen before…and it was turning me the fuck on. Cocky yet sweet, arrogant yet charming…I could see us together for a LONG time. Gazing into his perfect eyes, I slowly freed my arm from his vice grip and snuck it down his shorts. My hand closed on what felt like a banana of flesh. Shivering in fear and arousal, I slowly began to stroke it, my hands traveling along what felt like nine inches of cock. Travis smirked, bringing my other hand to his bulbous pec. “No no, in the open. And keep squeezing my tit. It gets me rock solid.” God, he was really something. Gulping nervously, I tugged his cock out of his shorts, gasping in pleasure as it sprung up. Easily nine, maybe ten. He was huge in every way…Travis smiled, guiding me gently into the center of the hallway. Now if anyone turned the corner or walked out of a classroom, we’d be spotted. I was shivering so hard I almost thought I had hypothermia, but yet I continued to squeeze and stroke at a solid pace, hoping to get it over with. Travis bit his lip and grunted gently with each spastic motion, his hips bucking as his huge back arched, shoving those fat pecs into my hand even further, flesh spilling out of my fingers. He leaned in hard and kissed me, humping one last time before his cock throbbed, firing thick and heavy against the wall behind us. He went good and strong for a little bit before gasping for air, collapsing against me. I grunted in effort, struggling to support his full, muscular weight. Finally he picked himself up, tucking his shrinking cock back into his waistband. Kissing me quickly on the lips, he pulled his shirt back on, to my gentle dismay. “Well, a bet’s a bet. Guess I’m yours now, gorgeous.” I flushed nonstop, and it only got worse as he lovingly patted my butt. “Hey…I don’t own you, Travis.” He winked, putting his hand around my waist as he kissed my forehead, an easy feat for his six foot something frame. “I sure hope not! This is a mutual thing.” The bell rang, giving us a one-minute warning. He chuckled. “Damn. Must have been a thirty second orgasm. Always have been quick, I guess.” He kissed me again, eliciting yet another blush. “I’ll text you, babe.” The word sent a shiver up my spine…and not a good one. It was the feeling that this would maybe last until he came again…or got bored of me. It would be intense and pseudo-romantic…but hardly real. An experiment in his life game. I wouldn’t even last a week. Well, that’s what I had thought. Six months later, I was so head over heels in love with my enormous boyfriend that life seemed covered with a cheesecloth. We’d text all day non-stop, and Facetime every night. Every night he’d steal my heart a little more and show off his magnificent boobs. Hehe yeah, I called them that now. He was a huge fan of bets…he had made one a few weeks into our relationship. If he could go up a cup size in one semester, I’d never call them pecs again. I had gotten cocky and raised it to two cup sizes, thinking he’d never make it and I’d never get used to calling those melons breasts. Well, I was wrong on both counts. I LOVED calling his chest muscles titties, and my boyfriend filled a DD perfectly, if not a little snugly. I’d even convinced him to buy one, and he loved showing off his boobs to me every night, fondling his own bra-clad chest as his cleavage heaved. He told me that he could orgasm just by rubbing his boobs too hard, and I believed him. He said that if he wore too tight a shirt in public, he’d pop a boner if he so much as stretched. I had considered daring him to do it…but I wasn’t that cruel and that was more his gig anyway. He made me a bet one day…toward the end of the semester. I was chatting with him as usual, just dazedly gazing at his tits. We did that sometimes…he would just bounce those fat melons and I’d stare, sometimes for hours on end. He was turned on just as much as I was. By now he could almost get those things to nudge his chin with each pop. He paused, staring lovingly at me as I took him in. “You’d look really good with long hair, baby.” I paused, smiling. “Yeah? You think?” Travis nodded, huge breasts undulating in rhythm. “Yeah. I can picture it down to your cheeks…or even your chin.” I chuckled. “I do hear I’d look decent with a mane.” Travis popped that cocky grin I loved so much. I had a feeling I knew what was coming. “Let’s make a bet.” I raised an eyebrow. “Another? Last one didn’t go so well for you.” He grinned again, bouncing those mammoth boobies heavily. “I think it worked perfectly.” He looked over himself, smirking. “Okay…if you grow your hair all next semester, no cutting it…then I’ll work on my other muscles.” I chuckled. “Other muscles? You mean you haven't been?” He laughed, a booming chuckle that twitched my cock. “Babe, I was way too focused bulking up two cup sizes for you! If I put my full effort into my body…hehe well…you’ll have to see.” I swept my hair off my forehead, feigning indecision. It did get oily quickly when it was longer…but this was just too good an opportunity to pass up. “You got yourself a deal, gorgeous!” “Oh, and…well, I wanna be surprised.” I tilted my head. “How do you mean?” He bit his lip, like it was painful to even say it. “I don’t wanna Facetime.” My jaw must have dropped, because he smiled sheepishly and sighed. “I know, baby, I know. It’s rough. But think how worth it it will be!” I had to agree. I was one of those suckers who loved a sudden change…coming back after a few months and seeing just how different people had become. And with his penchant for growing, I knew Travis wouldn’t disappoint me. “Yeah…all right, then. But you better be HUGE, hon!” He chuckled, heaving his breasts. “You fucking know it, babe. I wanna see you adjusting that hair every few seconds!” I chuckled, winking. “It’s a bet, my big tittied boyfriend.” He bit his lip as his boobs jumped. “Mmf…do that again.” I grinned…yet another of our rituals. “What? Call you out on how fucking ENORMOUS your boobies are?” He moaned gently, palming a fat breast. “How thick and round and heavy your breasts are becoming?” Travis gasped, squeezing more and more. I noticed with glee that neither hand was on his cock. He looked at me, tongue out gently. “Oh my god, I have BREASTS.” I growled happily, stroking myself. “No…you have BOOBS, big boy. And they’re only gonna evolve into HUGE….” He shuddered, huffing as he squeezed. “…FAT…” His eyes rolled as his modest biceps flexed, hands cupping his cantaloupe-sized chest muscles. “TITTIES!!” He moaned loudly, pinching his nipples. Both of us froze as gentle drops of milk dripped from his huge melons…and then he came. Hard. Bellowing like a beast, my beautiful Travis bounced his tits hard as he orgasmed like a bull, pumping seed everywhere. Finally he calmed down, grinning. “Jesus…you see that?” I laughed, smiling myself. “You’re so big you’re lactating…and you can orgasm hands-free…” He licked his lips. “I think I’ll be trying to do that a lot more.” I winked. “I look forward to it.” As his libido subsided, he smiled warmly. “I’m gonna get so fucking huge for you, baby.” “I look forward to it, Travis. Good night.” “Love you.” “Love you more, my busty boy.” He hung up and I promptly spewed my load in barely concealed ecstasy. Wow, life was good. And after a few more months…life got better. I was missing my man. A whole semester without seeing him was tough. Texting was one thing, but I felt like I was lacking. Not seeing his super tits for nearly a half year was taking its toll on me, but I knew it’d be worth it. Besides, I had a surprise of my own for him. What I hadn’t told my boyfriend when we’d made that bet was that my hair grew fast. Like, crazy fast. As in I needed to cut it every month fast. So six months of not getting it cut? Travis probably thought it would be to my cheek…maybe my chin, what with it being just past eye level last time he saw it. Well, it wasn’t at my cheek, or my chin. My hair was long enough to lightly drape on my shoulders nowadays, a veritable blanket of blond locks that flowed and tossed whenever I moved. I was absolutely in love with it, despite all its tedium. I had to condition it every day, keep it clean, and brush it constantly. It was ridiculously soft and fluffy, and it had been hell at first to keep it out of my face. But I was used to it by now, and had no problem with all its swaying and draping across my face and neck. I couldn’t wait to feel it fully resting on my shoulders, and the light pricks and itching of my hair tips tickling my shoulders were a good omen of what was to come. I was eating lunch at the dining hall, wondering why my big boyfriend had been quiet for so long. Usually he couldn’t go more than a few minutes without texting me. He was on the lacrosse, soccer, AND tennis team (see? Total stud and a half), and his practices were usually an hour long. He’d always tell me how even sixty minutes was torture for him, and he’d count down the minutes until we’d chat again. Sometimes we’d pull all-nighters just texting and teasing each other, being without Facetime and all. Some might consider it puppy love or unhealthy, but personally I was willing to run that risk. Travis was my type and then some: sweet yet kinky, protective and possessive yet totally understanding…all of psychology’s red flags rolled into one, complete with a pair of breasts that would make Cardi B raise an eyebrow! But I was currently almost three hours without a text…he’d once gone two and a half for a bus ride for a lacrosse game, but he wasn’t scheduled for a game today. I wasn’t one to get unduly worried or spam messages, but it was a bit odd! Just as I was about to send another text just to check, two hands clamped over my eyes. A deep voice whispered in my ears, my heart hammering as I realized I wasn’t about to be kidnapped. “Guess who?” I sighed, thinking it was one of my prankster friends. But…the hands were too big, the voice too deep even in a whisper. Maybe it was my suite-mate? He was a big dude, but not one for this kind of crap. Pulling forward, I turned in annoyance. My breath caught in my throat as my gaze tilted up…and up…and a little further up. As the face of my dreams broke into a goonish grin, I couldn’t help but let out a squeal as I tackled him in a huge hug. “TRAVIS!!” He hugged me tight, kissing me deeply as a few people turned to look. “Oh my fuck, baby…I missed you so much!” He held me there for what seemed like forever, lips together. Then I realized how tight his arms felt…and how high my feet were off the ground. “Tr-Travis? Did you…grow?” He didn’t respond at first, nuzzling his nose in my long silky hair. “Holy shit…I didn’t believe it at first…thought no way did my honey grow this much hair in only half a year! But you did…and I’m so glad I’m not the only one who went overboard.” I could barely comprehend his words, but his voice sounded deeper somehow…and it felt like iron cords were pressing into my back. “Overboard, Travis?” My voice was barely a squeak I was so excited. He put me down and backed up a few steps, and my vision almost swam. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it when I had turned to greet him, but now here he was…in his full glory. And he was GLORIOUS. He was taller…somehow in six months, he had put on a very visible few inches; where once my head had been just at his lips, now it was barely at his shoulder. I mean, that was a fucking half foot for sure! How had he grown an inch a month!? And even in his loose blue shirt, there was no denying how much muscle my boyfriend had stacked on. He had been relatively well-built before, although maybe more on the leaner side. It had still been buffer than I could ever hope to be, but I suppose it had been a pretty standard size for a sports jock. But once strong shoulders had evolved into immense, broad shelves connected to a thick bull’s neck. They had nearly doubled in width, obviously to house the gargantuan torso he was now sporting. His tits had ballooned even heavier and thicker, but widened to completely fill his shirt on either side. And yet they were still so burgeoning and beefy that they formed deep cleavage that seemed eager to suck in the fabric above it. Nipples that looked more like half-thumbs tented his shirt on each breast, wiggling and bobbing with the slightest movements. But his arms had gotten HUGE! Very snugly filling his sleeves, his gorged biceps formed thick cannons of flesh. A massive, snake-like vein twisted down his arms to branch rather heavily across his forearms and down to his huge, baseball mitt hands. Thick triceps flexed and bunched as he moved, obviously adding to the sheer size of his swollen, beefy arms. Blinking in shock and disbelief, I could only open and close my mouth for a few seconds as Travis grinned cockily down at me. He let his behemoth tits undulate and flex slowly in his shirt, nipples visibly swelling in arousal. “Now there’s the reaction I’ve been dying for.” I suddenly became painfully aware of the pulsing erection in my shorts, the obvious result of seeing my boyfriend’s sudden, enormous growth. And knowing him, he’d probably whip it out in the middle of the dining hall. I didn’t miss the naughty glint in his eyes. “Bathroom, Travis! Not here!” He laughed, and I realized his voice really had dropped a little; it hadn’t been my imagination after all. “I’m not THAT lewd…although watching that hair bounce is getting me horny…” The fleshy banana was beginning to outline against his shorts. Thankfully that behemoth hadn’t seemed to grow any…his lower half in general looked pretty unchanged: toned defined soccer legs with strong calves. Thank god…if he had ballooned all over, I may have had to convince myself the whole thing was a dream. Not that this whole scenario didn’t seem unreal! Motioning, Travis walked off toward the restrooms, nonchalantly adjusting his cock like it was normal. As he moved and I followed, I couldn’t help but flush as I took in his back. Jesus Christ, it was huge. His shoulders had been one thing, but watching his gigantic, extra-wide back shift and tug at his shirt, I found myself having to adjust my own cock as it throbbed even harder with lust. I tilted my head, though, as I took in the rest of his back. From the front, I hadn’t much paid attention to his waist. I had noticed a little lip, but I had assumed it was his eight pack and his v-line becoming even more defined. Yeah, my man had an eight pack. But…he was stocky! That back slimmed down a bit beyond his lats, but there was a slight bulge on either side just before his hips. And they were way too big to be v-line indicators…and those didn’t show up from the back. Did my ripped shredded Travis have love handles? No possible way! He didn’t look chunky at all… My breath was coming in gasps and huffs, my face flushing with arousal, lust, romantic delight, all forms of emotional baggage! As Travis entered the bathroom and locked it behind me, I couldn’t help but squeeze one enormous arm dazedly. Oh, fuck…it was real. All that massive muscle was there in front of me, firm and swollen and delicious. Travis smirked, flexing that divine bicep for me. I almost fainted at the enormous ball of muscle that SURGED to life, huge knot of flesh hardening into a massive sphere under my fingers. Winking slyly, he peeled his shirt off, body coming into view for the first time in almost half a year. Everything was just as magnificent as I’d hoped. Even the loose shirt he had been wearing couldn’t mask the gargantuan torso housed underneath. His pride and joy sat heavily atop his chest, seemingly weighed down by even more tit flesh. His nipples had visibly swollen, fleshy fat nubs bobbing with his breaths. But the best part was what lay beneath his mammoth boobs. His once-proud eight pack had indeed vanished. I could barely make out the outline of his first two abs, but the rest had been transformed into a big, fleshy paunch of meat. He really did have love handles, twin swells of fatty muscle that burgeoned from his hips to meet with his new chunky belly. No wonder he looked so huge and heavy everywhere else, he’d bulked HARD! My brain locked…the only thing that I could think to say bubbled up from deep in my subconscious, spurned on by the monster of beef and brawn in front of me. “Daddy…” Ah, Freud would be proud. Travis paused for a bit, grin splitting his face. “Ooh, I like the sound of that!” At my stunned silence, he bounced his tits before slowly guiding his hand under his new tummy swell. Giving it a hefty jiggle, he grinned even wider as I watched that new bulk wobble and ripple like a bowl of Jello. “Figured I’d dirty bulk to help things along…and I guess I let it get a bit out of hand! But it feels amazing, baby, you have no idea.” I gently reached out a hand, feeling my fingers sink into that soft pudge. It was maybe two or three inches of sink before that undeniably firm base, but it was still two or three inches of alpha beef that was brand new…and seriously hot. My hands traveled up to rub the ferocious underswell of his colossal super tits. Biting his lip, Travis moaned teasingly. “They’ve gotten SO sensitive lately. I blame all the milk I’m storing in there daily.” My face got even redder, my breath coming hotter and heavier. He hadn’t mentioned that! In fact, I’d forgotten a bit after that one cam session. “M-milk?” “Thought I’d surprise you even more with that! Yeah…guess all those feminine hormones helped get some more weight on the tits! Made my bulk softer too…good thing, ‘cuz I hate those gross ball guts.” I could only nob absentmindedly, eying those huge gorged nipples. No wonder they were so big…he was probably pumping them! And his boobs most certainly WERE bigger than before…added muscle and a generous layer of thickness from his beefy bulk had turned them into impossibly wide, enormously thick ultra boobs that were only so perky and supple because of the ungodly amounts of muscle in his chest and back. Travis sighed happily, running his hand through my hair. I was once again reminded of how tall he’d gotten. “Holy fuck, I missed my perfect worshipper boyfriend. Been itching to give you a taste of the nice creamy dairy your moo cow stud is holding these days.” Those words, combined with the spectacle that was my behemoth of a man almost brought me to orgasm then and there. But thankfully, I regained a little of my composure. As I gazed up at him, I couldn’t help but chuckle, leaning up and up. “Is it gonna make me grow too?” Travis smirked with that beautiful cocky smile I loved, kissing me deeply. “I sure hope so. Wanna bloat that ass up so I can give it a smack.” I flushed happily. Over the course of our relationship, we’d both realized that sex didn’t really hold much interest for either of us. Blowjobs and anal weren’t really on our radar, but that didn’t mean we couldn’t appreciate the assets the other was packing. How this mountainous god of a boy found any assets on me, I’ll never know. But he was quite literally bulging with them himself. “Mmmmm Big Travis gonna give his twink a bubble butt?” He shivered a bit at the name, pushing his enormous body into my slim one. “Yeah he is. And my beautiful boy is gonna give me some even thicker, heavier, milkier boobies.” I couldn’t hold it anymore. I buried my face in his cleavage. Travis moaned happily, wrapping his giant arms around my face and smothering me in his deep tit crevice. He held me there until I tapped out, panting hungrily as I tweaked his plump nipples. “You really lactate now?” Travis nodded, smirking. “I mean…only a few drops, but I can still milk myself!” I chuckled. Of course he couldn’t shoot rivers of milk! He wasn’t a girl, plus he wasn’t mutating. He was still human, and still a guy. But even a few drops was proof of how monstrously boob-tastic my boyfriend was. “That’s so amazing, Travis.” I looked up, kissing him deeply as he ran his hands through my hair. “You look so good, baby boy.” I flushed at the name. He was even cockier, a sort of permanent smirk etched into his features and a definite swagger to his posture. It did give me a thought, though. “Travis? I totally get how long we’ve been apart…have you…been with anyone else?” His answer was immediate and fierce, before I could even stammer out my insecurities. “FUCK no!” He paused, sighing as he ran his hands through my hair, looking into my eyes. “Sorry. Hope that didn’t sound defensive. Trust me, people have wanted to get with me. Like, a lot of people. But none of them were you. I wasn’t even tempted. I just wanted to grow and grow and grow for you, and you alone.” I could see that he wasn’t lying. I almost teared up, but held myself together. I kissed him deeply before pulling back. “Holy shit, you really are the perfect boy.” And just like that, his swagger came back. And somehow he seemed even more massive than a few minutes ago, frame looming over mine. “You’re just figuring this out now?” He chuckled deeply, grinding into me with the force of a freight train. I moaned gently, clutching his huge back as I tried desperately not to orgasm. “Ah…T-Travis…” He paused, humping in long slow pumps. “Hey, uh…how much do you like me?” I chuckled, knowing exactly what was coming. “Mmmm dunno, Travis…depends on how much you’re wagering in this bet!” He laughed, a deep booming baritone. “You got me all wrong, babe! No bets this time…just a request.” He actually pushed me into the wall, hefting my legs up into his arms as he kept humping. I was over the moon. He leaned in, breath hot in my ears. “I think I’ve done enough for you to start giving me some pet names. I give you plenty!” “O-oh! I do love those, and I would have earlier! I…I just thought they were too mushy for you.” Travis smirked, pushing me harder into the wall as he got a bit more forceful. “I’m a sweetheart, baby, you know that! And I’m not talking about mushy names…” He paused, licking my lips slowly. “…I’m talking about some names to make me feel big.” I bucked wildly, gasping. “Wh-what? Teasing your massive swollen boobies isn’t enough?” He shuddered, bucking with me. Our erections were rock hard, oozing pre. We were both so close. “Just imagine how much inspiration you’d give if you called me some…more beefy names.” “Or it would go right to that swelled head and you’d stop growing!” He grinned, lowering me a bit so that his tits pushed into mine. “Never stop growing. And come on, you love this ego as much as I do.” I smiled, breath coming hot and heavy. “You know? I sure do, Titan.” He moaned loudly, pulling me back so that he was lifting me off the ground with no problems. “Fuck, just like that.” “Jesus…you’re so fucking STRONG, Big Alpha Travis!” He got a wicked glint in his eyes, holding me tight. “I like that name you mentioned earlier…what was it again?” I bit my lip, heart hammering. “Wh-what…? Daddy?” He bellowed in delight, slamming me against the wall as he came, humping into me as his cock fired. I couldn’t help but release with him, shooting my own load in ecstasy. As we gasped and groaned, bodies smashing together, he slowly let me down. As we panted for air, he ran a finger through my long blond hair. “You see? This is why no one even fucking holds a candle to you! But now I wanna make a bet.” I rolled my eyes, orgasm doing nothing to ease my excitement. Travis’ increased size was just so new and delicious! “There it is.” He smirked. “You’re a fan of the tummy, yeah?” I growled playfully, poking the inch or two of wonderful pudge sticking from his lower abs. “It’s fucking amazing!” “Thought so! All right…if you call me Daddy, I’ll gain thirty pounds by the end of the semester.” At my expression, he held up two baseball mitt-sized hands. “In private, in private! Not in public, obviously.” My heart started hammering, desires clear in my head. With post-orgasm clarity settling in, I found that…I had no problems with it. On the contrary…I liked it. But I wasn’t letting him take all the credit! “Ah, ah! My turn…IF you gain thirty pounds, THEN I’ll call you Daddy.” He grinned, chuckling. “You are such a vixen, babe! I like it, though. You got yourself a bet!” We sealed it with a kiss, same as always. “Now…I’m actually skipping class and practice for you, so I’m afraid I can’t stay over.” My heart sank. I really wanted to cuddle with that new weight! “Oh…okay! The fact that you came all the way is still amazing!” He nodded eagerly. “Yeah…plus, I got a new challenge! You’ll keep growing out your hair?” I nodded, tossing it playfully. “Imagine how long it’s gonna be.” He growled happily. “With how much it’s grown over this six months, I’m chomping at the bit. I’ll keep growing bigger, and you keep growing prettier.” I smiled at him. “I’ll do my squats every day.” He swatted my ass gently. “Really are gonna grow your Big Travis a bubble butt!” I laughed, nuzzling into him. “Talking in the third person? Your head’s gonna pop if that ego gets much bigger!” He smiled. “You know you love it.” I ran my hands over his arms, marveling at how much his tits still pushed me away from him. Boy had foot-long boobies! Okay, maybe not THAT much, but they sure looked and felt like it! “I do love it, Titan. I love you more.” He kissed the top of my head with minimal difficulty. “Love you too, baby boy.” A little over half a year later, I was eagerly waiting at our favorite diner. I’d left college today, and had promised to drive right here to meet him. I was desperately hoping he’d kept his end of the bet…because I was eagerly wishing to fulfill mine. Our daily talks just turned me on more and more, and I was quickly growing to adore his dominant, domineering nature (although I’d never let him know it). Freud would love me, but calling him that particular name would really fit our relationship. His pet names were becoming gradually more feminine, and he was encouraging me to embrace my less masculine desires. With my body slowly changing to his wishes, I figured a little mental push wouldn’t hurt either. I guess my genetics were just as geared toward growing as Travis’ were, because I’d gone up three waist sizes in just six months. But unlike Travis, my belly hadn’t gotten any bigger. No, those extra inches went right to my hips and ass. The squats really had done the trick, my butt swollen into a huge meaty bubble. It was muscular enough to be round, but somehow soft enough to jiggle a bit when I walked. My hips had thickened a fair bit too, legs nearly touching with the added mass on them. My lower half was monstrously disproportionate now…I just figured it would match my boyfriend’s immense upper half. True to my word, I had kept my hair growing. It had gotten really annoying, so I was tying it up in a loose ponytail these days. But because I was meeting my busty boy today, I had it untied. Long silky locks flowed and shifted just below my collarbone, pulled out of my eyes by my hair tie. I have no idea how it grew so fast, but I wasn’t complaining at all. I’d been working my core, and I was boasting a modest skinny-pack, exposed by my new style. While nerve-wracking at first, I’d slowly become used to and excited to wear some gayer clothes. In the winter, I had rocked some skinny jeans and jean jackets. Nowadays, I loved wearing my crop tops and even my booty shorts to show off my ass. Which you better believe I was wearing today. I had to make the best impression! I had my back to the wall, determined not to be taken by surprise like last time. And then Travis’ truck pulled into the lot. My heart began to hammer, and I mean hammer. My imagination was going wild, if my boyfriend’s legacy of growth was any indicator. He pulled into a spot…and waited. I had to smirk. That cocky tease! Finally, when I thought I was going to have to open the door myself, he got out. I…I couldn’t. I just absolutely could NOT. How…the FUCK…did he keep growing?! He was taller, no doubt in my mind. I wasn’t sure if I’d be even with his chest at this point! I mean, I was short, but he had to be nearly six and a half feet. And he had to be nearly half that wide! Shoulders were wider and broader, arms were even more gargantuan, behemoth biceps swollen and tensed alongside burgeoning triceps. To be honest, his stomach hadn’t put on as much as I thought. But it was beyond noticeable now, where before it had just been a subtle bulge. All those thirty pounds seemed to have gone right to his ass and boobs, though. His monstrous bubble of an ass had gotten even bigger than mine, damn him! His legs were huge and defined when he moved, but thick and meaty at the same time. And his TITS! They were even wider, thicker, and starting to slope with all the weight piling on. He had to be wearing a triple-XL shirt, and yet there was no denying how puffy and mountainous his nipples had gotten, the perfect capstones to those bra-busting mega breasts! He looked more mature, too, jawline filled out and his hair a touch longer. He stopped as he saw me, shaking his head in disbelief as he lumbered up to me. I couldn’t help but grin as he took up more and more of my vision, loose white shirt doing nothing to hide the godlike bulges heaving all over his body. We just stared at each other for a good minute, disbelievingly checking the other out. Finally he broke the silence. “You never said I had to stop at thirty pounds…so I put on another fifteen. Hope that’s okay.” I shook my head before sighing. “I think…I think I need to feed my Daddy before he gets skinny again!” Travis moaned happily, burying me in a deep kiss as he ran his hand down my waterfall of hair. “HOW did this get so long?” I grabbed his boobs, squeezing hard. “HOW did these get so big?” He smacked my ass, rather forcefully too. “And how did this get so enormous?” I did the same, although I barely made a dent in his. “Ditto!” He huffed loudly, glancing over his shoulder. “Do we have to make our reservation? I just want to take you to my truck and have my way with you right now.” I bit my lip, pressing my hand into his belly. Oh, it was even softer! And there was definitely more than before…I guess his boobs were just so big now that his tummy looked the same size. “God, it’s tempting. But I do really want to see just how much you can eat now.” He slipped his huge hand around my waist, guiding me into the restaurant. “A fuck ton, believe me. We’re gonna be here a while.” I grinned. “Just more time for me to admire my Daddy’s new body. How much do you weigh?!” He chuckled, smacking his ample belly fat. “Tipping the scales at just over 270. I’m hoping to break 300 by the summer’s end!” I shook my head in wonder. “At your rate, you may break it by summer’s start!” He shrugged those colossal shoulders. “Wouldn’t be surprised. I’m gaining super fast now that I don’t cut at the ends of bulks.” I growled playfully as we entered the place, digging my hand into his bloated chest. “And probably just eat anything that crosses your path, big boy!” He squeezed my ass in full view of the waitress at the desk, making her flush a bit as she took us in. “That’s big DADDY to you, little man!” I flushed as hard as the poor girl that lead us to our table, hissing through my teeth. “Not in public, Travis! Jesus Christ!” He chuckled, popping his gorged tits through his shirt. “People get us confused, actually. But come on…you’re dressing and looking like a slut, why not act like one?” I blushed even deeper as we sat. “Because I don’t have your ego to boost my confidence…or your size.” He chuckled, grunting as he squeezed next to me. His boobs were very nearly resting on the table, belly gently pushed into the counter as his ass pushed him forward in his seat. “I wouldn’t say that! Your ass got enormous, baby boy! Fuck, this is a little tight.” I nodded breathlessly. “Gonna start needing bar seats if you keep growing.” He winked at me. “You know damn well I’m going to! I’m fucking pissed you go away for the summer, though. You really have to go to that camp?” “Yes, Titan. I’m the archery director. They’d be lost without me! Besides, we have a month and a half all to ourselves! Plus, it’s two whole months for us to bulk up for the other.” “Fine, but we’re Facetiming this time around. I wanna see my gorgeous boyfriend…and I’m sure he wants to see his Daddy keep expanding.” I giggled gently. “I really do. You’re too big to keep me in the dark.” He leaned his full weight into me, encouraging his soft squishy love handle into my hand. “Baby, I’m too big to fit into some doorways.” “Going to have to fix that, for sure! We can’t have you fitting in any, can we?” He smirked cockily as our drinks arrived. “No, we can’t!” The waitress eyed us both a little hesitantly, as if convincing herself that such a behemoth mountain of a man could really be with a twink like me. “Any appetizers, guys?” Travis grinned, and I knew this was the start of something wonderful. “Now that you mention it…” Now, I like boys with appetites. The bigger, the better. And it stands to reason that bigger boys have bigger appetites, so I knew Travis was going to be eating a lot. But…nothing could have prepared me for what I witnessed. I finished my meal in about thirty minutes; I’m a slow eater! Travis was not a slow eater, but he still finished in about ninety minutes. I watched six appetizers, four entrees, fourteen glasses of milk, five slices of cake, and three extra-large milkshakes vanish down my monster’s gullet. I could barely house my rock-hard erection under the table! Finally he finished his last shake, patting his domed belly. “Now normally I’d let loose with a massive burp, but we’re in public and I figure you don’t want to be embarrassed.” “Tr-Travis, you ate practically half the restaurant. How do you afford to eat like this? I-I don’t think I can pay for what you just devoured!” He smirked, leaning back and slinging a giant arm around my shoulder. “Well, I’m usually at college, and they’re all you can eat. And uh…I never told you this, but I’m fucking loaded. I don’t need to worry about cost.” Before I could respond, he ran his hands through my hair. “And I didn’t want to overstep my bounds so early in the relationship…but I think we’re in deep enough now. I don’t want you to worry about the cost of anything ever again. I want you to uh…well, rely on me for money.” I gulped. That was risky…like, beyond risky. And controlling…as much as I loved his dominance, this was next level. “Travis…I-I love you, but I’m not willing to give you my finances.” He leaned back a bit, eyes wide. “Oh god! No no, nothing like that! I don’t want a dime from you! That would be too much power. I just mean like…let me pay for you. I’ll buy you stuff if you want, and you can do whatever you want with your own money! I just wanna spoil my baby boy.” I blushed, a bit ashamed at having misinterpreted. I mean, it was still a little red-flaggy, but we’d crossed that line long ago, hadn’t we? And who didn’t love a boy who wanted to pay for you? “Then it’s a deal…” I leaned in, kissing his cheek. “…Daddy.” He bit his lip, chuckling. “Sugar Daddy now, I guess.” I rolled my eyes. “You just want more titles with that word in it, don’t you?” He nodded, grinning as the waitress brought the bill. And let me tell you…it’s exciting to have a boy with money. No worries about providing for him, and if he’s generous it’s just a bonus for you! This gorgeous beefy hunk of a boyfriend shelled out more than one hundred dollars without batting an eye, sighing happily. “That’s better. In lieu of sounding sexist, it’s fitting that the big man pays for his lady.” I flushed, tying my hair up. “I ain’t a lady. Check downstairs…I only have long hair!” He grinned, lumbering out of the booth. Oh sweet fuck, he looked bigger. “And an ass you could eat off, and a lovely new teen girl style of dressing up! But that’s good…I like my princess feminine.” My heart spasmed, cock twitching. “Wh-what did you call me?” He shrugged, sheepishly grinning. “Princess! My tiny little princess…and her big fat Daddy.” I patted his belly, enjoying the pumped stomach under the layer of cushion. “You’re not fat…not yet.” He growled, hand lingering on my ass. “Is that a challenge?” I chuckled, walking with him out of the restaurant. “It might be. I like Daddy with some chunk on him.” He patted his thick belly, smiling. “It feels amazing. Just getting out of the shower in the morning gets me stiff. Never been anything other than shredded, so this is really hot. I can feel myself jiggling more every day.” He opened the door to his truck. Before I could make a rendezvous, he pulled me inside, throwing me on the seat as he lowered his enormous weight onto me, humping eagerly. “I’ve been SO fucking horny for you…you and your new title. The second I hit 220 I couldn’t stop fantasizing about you calling me…mmf…do it for me.” I gasped, cock hard in seconds as all 270 beefy pounds mashed into me. “D-Daddy…Oh, Big Daddy…my Big, Beefy, Bulging, Behemoth Daddy!” He moaned loudly, humping harder. “That’s my name from now on, got it?” I nodded, biting my lip submissively. “Yes, Daddy. Whatever my perfect alpha Daddy wants.” He growled hungrily, biting my hair gently. “Mm I do kind of like you being all submissive…but I did fall in love with that sassy, sweet personality. Although…it’s not bad in the bedroom. I do carry all the weight, literally.” I nodded, huffing. “I’m so horny, Daddy. Been dreaming of calling you that for months now.” He raised an eyebrow, kissing me sweetly. “Well, the deal was for thirty pounds. I gained forty-five. So…maybe I need a little more.” “Mmmm you got it, Big Daddy. My Big Daddy deserves every inch of worship he gets…getting so big and bulky and beautiful for me.” Travis pursed his lips, shrugging. “Naw, maybe not then. You’re sounding like a slave, haha! I wanna pamper you, not own you.” I smacked his monstrous breast gently. “This is new territory and you know it! I have no idea what’s cute, what’s hot, or what’s going to get domestic hotline on our asses.” Travis laughed, kissing me long and slow. “Just do what comes naturally. Remember how I always used to cheat off you in AP Bio? You’re a fast learner and a smart cookie.” I grinned. “You sweet talker, you. I have the best Daddy in the world.” He pursed his lips as I twitched my lip. “Yeah, I heard it that time. Freud’s ghost just got a little stronger.” He raised an eyebrow. “You want to stop?” I shook my head, grinning. “Hell no, Big Daddy Travis!” He buried his lips into mine, my hands tangled in his hair, and we made out hard. Pulling back for air, I grabbed his tits to elicit a sharp moan. “Take that shirt off, Daddy. I wanna see all that added beef!” He stripped slowly for me, allowing me to see all the new muscle he’d stacked onto his arms and pecs, as well as the lovely extra chub he’d loaded up on. He really had gotten pudgier, but all that extra breast meat offset the aesthetic. Still, it just told me his pride and joy was still liable to expand. “Your nipples are fucking HUGE, Daddy! You been milking?” Travis nodded. “They’re taking really well to the pec exercises I do! I still can’t milk like a cow, but I’m glad they’re naturally puffy instead of that gross pumped look.” I massaged one half-dollar sized areola gently, causing Travis to buck gently. “And they keep getting more sensitive. I wore a skintight athletic shirt once, just for shits and giggles. I literally orgasmed after only five minutes. Gotta wear loose shirts or else I have accidents.” I chuckled, rubbing his supple nubs. “Same old, same old! Maybe you ought to go shirtless, then.” Travis chuckled. “Believe me, it’s tempting. Once it gets warm enough, I’ll be letting the gains show every waking moment! I’m finally proud of my gut.” I gave it a rub, squeezing the ample chub stacked on top of his food-stuffed belly. “Trying to gain more?” Travis shrugged. “If I can! I’m not for it or against it, really. I hate those gross ball guts, but as long as I’m gaining pudge I’m happy! Can’t resist the powerful wobble when I walk.” I sighed, wrapping my arms around his neck as I nuzzled into him. “Neither can I. Daddy looks amazing with some meat on his bones.” Travis smirked, grinding his crotch into mine. “Do I, princess?” I flushed again. “Tra…Titan, please. I’m not that feminine.” Travis smiled gently, pushing my hair off my forehead. “No, you’re not. You’re just my type. You’re everything I ever wanted and more.” I smiled weakly. “You’re just saying that so I’ll squeeze your boobs.” He chuckled. “That too. Hey uh…you still having issues with your family?” I frowned a bit. I hated talking about that, even to him. “Yeah. It’s a lot worse…I don’t really want to go into it.” Travis nodded. “I get it, for sure. But uh…listen. You have all your stuff with you, and knowing you, you haven’t told your parents a thing. So why not…come live with me?” I paused, lust forgotten entirely. Oh, that would be heaven. But I couldn’t… “Titan, I couldn’t! It would be such an imposition. I know your parents like me, but there’s no way I could ever…” He grinned. “That’s just it! I have my own place!” I shook my head. “What? Travis, you’re barely out of your freshman year in college and you have your own place?” Travis nodded, grinning even wider. “Name’s Daddy, cutey. And that’s absolutely right. Parents are trying to let me experience the real world, but I made it big with a sweet job, so I’m living pretty! Would be no problem to take you in. Was hoping to surprise you with it…and I guess I did!” I was silent for a while; this was a lot to process! Could I really do that? It was way too big a step in the relationship, but it made perfect sense if we weren’t dating. There were pretty much no downsides…if my stupid parents suffered, that was just a bonus for me. Let them stress…although I knew they wouldn’t. Finally, I let my gaze drift back to my bull boyfriend’s gaze. God, he had such wonderful eyes. And he meant every word he’d ever said to me, I could see that. He loved me. “I uh…I guess you got yourself a roommate…Daddy.” He smiled ear to ear, kissing me deeply. “Oh baby, you won’t regret this! I’m gonna take such good care of you, I promise! You’re gonna be the happiest boy on the fucking planet!” I nuzzled into him, content to just relax in his giant embrace, have him hold me close. “I know you will, Big Daddy.” To make a long story short, I still am the happiest boy on the planet. I went to camp, Daddy grew even more, and we started living together! It’s incredible how persuasive he can be…in only two months, he really opened me up. A nudge or two every so often from him, and I was begging him to call me his princess. He loved doing it, and I love it when he spoils me. And oh, does Daddy spoil me. New clothes, all the food I want, jewelry and expenses and everything! I wonder how Daddy manages it when he eats enough for three men every meal! We both went back to college, but only I graduated. Daddy dropped out to take a position in California! I moved with him, happy to be away from my awful family. We (and be we, I don’t mean me) started making huge sums of money, and upgraded a few times until we were very comfortable living in pleasure. Shortly after I graduated, Daddy and I decided to make it official. He proposed to me, and we got married in private to live happily ever after!! We’re still living together, and I love every inch of my Daddy. To be honest, sometimes it’s hard to remember what his real name is! To me, he always has been and always will be my Big Daddy, Travis! And I’m happy to be his princess~ and I finally look the part, too. I get my hair cut so that it’s just lower than my shoulders; that’s the length Daddy likes it. He convinced me to grow my nails out a bit, and talk with a gay whine in my voice. Well…after doing it so much, it kind of stuck. So now I really sound like a total gay boy, but I think Daddy was aiming for that all along. I dress like a slut every day, and my ass is even bigger just in case Daddy ever wants to give my back door a test drive. I bulked up a bit too, thanks to Daddy’s constant pampering, so I’m definitely in the twunk category now, almost bridging into the hunk label! I like to think I resemble Daddy at the end of high school, but even if I do, the current deal is just so much better anyway. Daddy stopped growing at six foot nine, and finally let himself bottom out at just over 360 pounds. He’s so incredibly handsome, matured and aged like a fine wine. Despite his bulk, he’s ridiculously muscular, with no weight to pad up any of the huge bulges spread over his arms, shoulders, or legs. But despite that, his belly is just as soft and blubbery as he likes. Daddy never drinks beer or carb loads, in fear of growing that muscle belly he so despises. He almost resembles one of those Arnold Strongman challengers, except he’s so much better looking…and a lot more shredded, if you can believe that. He also refuses to ever compete in something like that…he’s afraid he’ll hurt himself. Please…it would take a team of elephants to hurt my Big Titan husband. And thank god he didn’t: he’d probably end up shaving his head, growing a beard, and tattooing himself up. Thankfully, we hate all three. Daddy’s also naturally smooth, so I never have to worry about any gross body hairs getting in the way of that perfect, beautiful beef. And the thing that started it all…those incredible, wonderful, monstrous super Daddy boobs…are the stuff of legend. They actually do stick out eleven inches from his body (we measured) now, the perfect mix of healthy muscle and wobbly fat. You can see them from behind, even past his enormously wide back! They bounce when he walks, and when he flexes them they smash into his chin. His nipples are the size of D-batteries, and his areola are almost dinner-plate sized, swelling off the bottoms of his tits in mountainous swells of flesh. We never did get him to lactate as much as he wanted, but every day brings something new! His clothes are just too ridiculous, so Daddy walks around naked for convenience sake. It’s almost made some messy scenes, but thankfully I’m usually dressed so that I can divert attention. Any kind of shirts make Daddy erect and orgasm in just about a minute if he moves enough, but he’s so cocky now he loves the challenge. I usually end up cleaning his sticky, massive underwear and pants two or three times a day. But despite his enormous, insatiable size and ego, he’s still my Travis. I love my Daddy more than he knows, and I know the same applies to him. He’d do anything for me, and he does every day. I have no doubts we’ll never even get into a fight…we’re too sick and twisted to be normal. Our relationship is probably ridiculously unhealthy, but we couldn’t care less. We’re happy, and that’s all that matters, right? Mm, Big Daddy’s calling me now! I better go see what my humongous husband wants, before he teaches his little princess a lesson!
  7. muscleaddict

    m/m Muscle University

    Ok guys, here’s the new story I’ve been working on. It’s of a similar size and scale to my last story "AJ & Noah". It’s told from the point of view of Woody (real name Sebastian Wood), a handsome, sassy, self assured (some might cocky) bodybuilder with a cheeky Instagram persona. Woody attends Montgomery University of Bodybuilding & Fitness; the only school in the world dedicated to turning its students into pro bodybuilders, where lessons include Posing Practice 101, Anatomy & Aesthetics and A History of Bodybuilding. There are a few references/Easter eggs to AJ & Noah and some of my other stories in here for anyone who’s familiar with them! I’ve got my friend @reeddune working on some illustrations too which I’ll be sharing soon. MUSCLE UNIVERSITY One I open my eyes and this feeling of warmth washes over me. I genuinely can’t remember the last time I woke up this happy. I look over to my best friend Emily lying in the bed next to me and she gives me this happy knowing grin. There was nothing particularly extraordinary about last night. Just two friends getting a bit drunk and going to the local gay club. But everything about it was awesome. The atmosphere. The people. And I just want to do it all over again. “How’s the head?” she asks me. I smile and shrug under the duvet of her bed. “I feel fine!” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe how much attention you were getting last night!” I beam back at her. “I’m used to it!” I reply cheekily. Even though I’m actually not. At least not these days. Emily grins and playfully rolls her eyes. “I loved it when that guy asked to feel my biceps!” I say excitedly. Emily giggles. “And then his mate joined in!” she says. “They were so funny!” I turn away from her and look up to the ceiling. God I love this room. This house. This town. Everything here is so … normal. It’s the complete opposite to my life at my own university. And now I feel a sudden pang of sadness at the realisation that none of this is mine. It’s Emily's. This is her room. In her student house. In her university town. And I’ll be going back to my (exceptionally not normal) student life in a few hours time. “I’m just surprised you didn’t meet someone and abandon me like you normally do!” Emily quips, with one eyebrow raised. I look over at her and smirk. “I probably should have done! It’s pretty much my only chance to pull these days!” “Seb, there must be other gay guys at your uni?” I pull a face. “You would think!” It might sound a little crazy, but I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if I was the only gay guy at my university. We stay silent for a while. “Is that club open again tonight?” I ask. She looks at me suspiciously. “Yeah?” I wiggle my eyebrows up and down. “What if I didn’t go back today and we go out again tonight?” What If I don’t go back at all, I think. “Erm … don’t you have an exam tomorrow morning?” I pull a face. “Meh!” Emily grins at me. I know she’d love me to stay another night, but we both know that I’m going to be sitting on that train back to Scotland in a few hours time. I sigh, pull the duvet down and look at the thick, perfectly pumped pecs bulging off my chest. “What do you think, boys? Do you wanna go back to Scotland today? Bounce once for yes, twice for no!” Then I bounce my pecs twice. Emily giggles in response. “The pecs have spoken!” I exclaim. She giddily beams back at me and everything suddenly feels good again. I love who I am when I’m with Emily. I love who I am when I’m here. It’s different to how I am at my own university. I don’t feel like I have to put on a front. I’m not competing with anyone. I can let my guard down. I can relax. I guess (like everything else here) I can be normal. Well, as normal as a sixteen stone bodybuilder with arms twice the size as most lads’ my age can be. A few hours later and we’re at the train station, my holdall thrown over one of my ridiculously broad shoulders. My train leaves in fifteen minutes and I want to get a good seat. As much as I love visiting Emily, the seven hour train journey to get there and back is never exactly fun. “Are you still coming down for your birthday next month?” she asks. “Yeah! Of course!” I can’t imagine spending my birthday at my own university. Jesus. How fucking depressing would that be? A couple walk past us; a boy and a girl. They both stare at me as they do and the girl pulls a funny face and looks at the boy wide eyed. Emily looks at me and we both grin. “Jeez! It’s like no one has ever seen a bodybuilder before!” I say. Emily laughs. “You’re definitely a novelty down here!” Something pulls in my stomach. A desire. This is what I want to be. What I should be. A novelty. A rare thing. Something out of the ordinary. This is what I want all the time. I suddenly feel a heavy sadness that I have to leave. “Do your think your uni would let me transfer down here?” I ask Emily. She gives me a sad smile. I know the answer to that one. “I’m not really sure if they’d be able to match your course!” I roll my eyes and manage to smile. Of course they fucking wouldn’t. No other university in the world would be able to match my course. I’m stuck there for another two and a half years. And then … well then there’s a very good chance that I’ll get to live my dream. It’s one small mercy I guess. The light at the end of the tunnel. The one thing I cling to during my shittiest days. Luckily the train isn’t that busy so I manage to have two seats to myself for the entire journey. On the journey down here two days ago some unfortunate fucker had to sit next to me. Because I’m basically built like a brick shithouse, I was spilling over onto his seat. The poor bastard was squashed up with half of his body hanging out into the aisle. Of course, there are some guys out there who would probably enjoy sitting next to me. Some who’d probably walk over hot fucking coals for a chance to be squashed up against my huge, muscular body in fact. The randy buggers. I divide my journey time up by revising for tomorrow's exam, listening to Spotify, staring at how huge and devastatingly sexy I am in the reflection of the train window (did I mention I’m a bit of a handsome fucker as well as being a two hundred and thirty pounds bodybuilder?) and thinking about how I’m going to spend the evening when I get back to my dorm room. By the way, you heard that right. I live in a shared fucking dorm room. Ugh. Just like the ones you see in all those films set in American colleges. Two beds. Two people. Two complete strangers chosen at random by a computer being forced to share a room. I mean … fucking seriously? My university is probably the only one in the UK that has them. They say it helps the students to bond. Really it’s just a cheaper way of housing us. It’s not like I can live off campus either. Trust me, I would if I could. But it's impossible. Because my university is in the middle of sodding nowhere. I’m complaining, but in actual fact, I’m one of the extremely lucky few first years who doesn't actually share his dorm room. Woo-hoo! My old roommate Craig (who was noisy, messy and had about as much banter as a brick) dropped out a few months ago so I have the whole room to myself. It’s mostly great, though there are times when I find myself getting a bit bored. There’s even been a few times where I’ve suddenly realised that I’m talking to myself. I have no idea what that’s about. Half way through the train journey I go to use the toilet. There’s a big mirror on the wall. Christ, I look huge. I’m always a little taken aback when I see my reflection in a foreign mirror. And this is no exception. My shoulders look ridiculous, my famously thick pecs (at least in the world of online muscle fans) are bulging underneath my plain white t-shirt (you should see them in a vest!) and my arms look straight up fucking monstrous. I guess I’m kinda known for my arms. I don’t mean to sound like I’m bragging, but you should see the size of my biceps. They just fucking explode off my arms when flexed. My triceps are pretty crazy too. I mean, at this point I’m basically just an all round freak. Strangers in the street would probably run away from me screaming if I wasn’t so bloody good looking with it. Which people feel the need to remind me about quite a lot on Instagram. I’m always getting told how handsome I am by random users. And it’s not just on Instagram. I read a crazy comment on a muscle blog once where someone said I wouldn’t look too out of place in one of those American high school films where the hot jock guys always look way too old to be playing teenagers. I kinda loved reading that. Then I started imagining what kind of character I could play. I was thinking an unusually buff, British exchange student all the girls go crazy over but who’s actually secretly gay. Then some big Hollywood producer could snap me up and put me in a Marvel film as a superhero. Or as some mutant freak in the latest X-Men film (no CGI needed). I mess with my brown hair a little, which is getting a bit too long at the top, to restyle it. I turn my head to the side and look at my jawline in the reflection of the mirror. People are always mentioning my jawline on the Internet. Then I wiggle my eyebrows up and down and flash a big, cheesy grin at my reflection. And then I laugh at myself. Because I’m such a fucking knob sometimes. I lift my t-shirt up and HOLY ABS. God, I love my stomach muscles. They really fucking POP. It’s like I’ve got six big cobblestones trapped under my skin and they’re trying to burst out. They’re definitely amongst the best developed and most aesthetic abs of all the lads in my year. An idea pops into my head which I can’t resist following through with. I whip out my phone and take a picture of myself, flexing the bicep muscles in my right arm in the mirror while pulling a funny face. Then I load up Instagram and type a cheeky caption. Me and this bad boy bulging off my arm are on a train back to MU. Everyone keeps staring at me. It’s like they’ve never seen a muscle monster before. Weird! #huge #biceps #watchmegrow #freak4life #hellyeah #sexymonster And BOOM … the post is up and my sexy face and bulging biceps are out there for all the world to see. Or all twelve thousand of my Instagram followers anyway. My chest flutters with excitement at the thought of all the likes and comments that will, without question, soon come flooding in. As I walk (well, more like strut) through the carriage to return to my seat, practically every passenger looks up at me. I clock one guy I’m fast approaching who has his head buried in a book. I cough loudly as I walk towards him and he casually glances up. This comical, shocked expression takes over his face and his eyes look like they’re about pop out of their sockets when he looks at me. Ha! I give my new admirer a mischievous smirk as I strut past his seat. And no doubt half the carriage are now checking out my obscenely huge, round arse which is stuffed into my painted on skinny jeans. When I settle back into my seat I load up Instagram again on my phone. I feel a surge of excitement because (as predicted) the reaction to my latest post is crazy. The likes are going mad and new comments keep popping up. Someone calls me a “super freak” (love it). Another person says I’m “so so handsome”. I get called huge, unbelievable and some dude tells me he wants to get his hands on my biceps. The filthy bugger! I like every comment, and even reply to some. Thanking them, or saying “hell yeah” or “I need to get even BIGGER”. For some comments I just leave an emoji. One gets a winky face, another gets the emoji with the one eye closed and the tongue sticking out (I LOVE that one) and, fuck it, the guy who wants to feel my biceps gets the face blowing a kiss emoji. It’s flirty. It’s cheeky. It’s outrageous. And it’s so fucking ME. I love getting all that attention. I love making people go crazy. And I love turning people on. Knowing that they’re aroused by my huge muscles. God. It’s such a bonkers and powerful thought. I jump in the Uber I’ve booked when I get to my final station. The poor driver looks fucking terrified. As we drive to my campus this unsettling feeling churns in my stomach. This is the worst part about going to visit Emily at her university, or going back to my parents for long weekends or holidays; the horrible feeling I get whenever I have to return. If I were in a better mood, I might give my Uber driver a cheeky flex of my biceps before getting out of the car. Instead I say thanks and reluctantly get out. I pause as I look at the assortment of big brick buildings before me and the surrounding greenery. There’s nothing particularly remarkable about my university campus from the outside. It looks like any middle tier university in the UK. I breathe a deep sigh as I look at the only clue that this is anything but an ordinary university campus - a graphic image of an arm with big, flexed bicep muscles on the side of the Prince House building sitting next to the following words: “MONTGOMERY UNIVERSITY OF BODYBUILDING & FITNESS. MAKING TOMORROW'S TOP BODYBUILDERS.”
  8. theseventhwave

    m/m The Symbiote War - Chapter 16

    If you haven't read Chapters 1 through 15 - here are links: Chapter 1-7: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1689-the-symbiote-war/ Chapter 8: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/4428-the-symbiote-war-chapter-8/ Chapters 9-10: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/5517-the-symbiote-war-chps-9-10-and-eventually-the-rest/ Chapter 11 is on page 3 of the previous thread. Chapter 12 is on page 4 of the previous thread. Chapter 13 is on page 5 of the previous thread. Chapter 14: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/15351-the-symbiote-war-chapter-14/ Chapter 15: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/19698-the-symbiote-war-chapter-15/ Chapter 16: Sunday Evening – What have I done? The walk back to Mark’s place was quiet. Mark seemed lost in thought. I felt as if my poor brain was short-circuiting. What does all this mean? What will this growth do to Mark? To our relationship? Will he be the same person? Am I the same person? I can’t keep my eyes off Mark – or more specifically, his new muscles. With this new growth, he’s now just a bit taller than me – but not enough to really make his pants look short. But it’s his muscles that are stealing the show. His shirt now clings tight across his pecs, and the neckline can’t hide the flared mounds of his traps. The sleeves are stretched tight around his bulging arms – which highlights the swell of his delts. I can see the muscles in his arms flexing as they gently swing with every step. But my gaze keeps returning to his pants – his muscle growth is really impressive down there. His pants cling to his well-developed quads and are now stretched tight across the shelf of his sexy booty; so tight that the pants sort of ride up and cinch under his butt – making the front pockets flare out like two elephant ears. Speaking of elephant… I can clearly see the massive outline of his erection pointing toward his hip – almost sticking out of his pocket at the waistline. It bobs up and down with each step he takes. Damn he’s hot! We arrive back at Mark’s apartment; he misses getting the key in the keyhole. “Hmm… The keyhole is a bit lower than usual.” He ushers me in and closes the door behind us. For a moment, we just stand there in silence staring into each other’s eyes. Finally, Mark lets out a sigh. “You must be a ball of emotions.” “Read me like a book, you have.” My tired attempt to channel some Yoda to lighten the mood. He smiles. “Like an open book, you are.” His ability to be nerdy is one of his many adorable qualities. But his genuinely warm, charming smile steals the show. And to have all that bound up in this tight package of muscles is just kryptonite for my heart. “It’s been a day.” Not knowing how else to sum up today’s turn of events. “How are you feeling?” He sort of spreads out his arms and looks down at his body. “This will take a bit of getting used to. But I can’t lie, I feel amazing. My body feels hard, dense. And I’m horny – like really horny – my cock feels like it’s going to bust out of my pants. Did Shawn mention anything about feeling this horny?” “Well… Shawn would typically cum after each round of growth. So maybe that’s the answer to your question. And we were focused on getting out of my dorm – so you haven’t had that opportunity.” Mark pulls his shirt off – revealing an impressive, dense-looking six pack of abdominals – tight and hard. He previously had sort of a lean, slightly muscle-y frame, but now any fat has disappeared, replaced by hard muscles vacuum-sealed under a thin layer of skin highlighting the dense cables of each muscle fibre. He runs his hands over his abs, and up to his pecs, giving them a squeeze. “Well, if he has a fetish for muscles, then this sort of growth would be quite a turn on.” “Yes, quite a turn on.” I say almost hypnotically – watching the muscle fibers in his shoulders dance as he feels up his body. “This feels a bit unfair. You’ve been working so hard in the gym to earn your hot muscles, and I’ve gotten these without any work. And I believe I may now be a bit buffer than you – no offense – you’re still a sexy muscle-stud.” “No apologies. You rescued me. And… This is so…hot.” I can’t resist. I reach out and cup his pec, giving it a bit of a squeeze. My thumb slides into the cleft between his pecs – I can feel the individual muscle fibres as they undulate beneath the skin. His skin is quite warm, and his muscles are hard – there’s no visible fat, so no cushion to soften those dense muscles. “Mmm…” I let out a soft moan. Once again, my hardon is straining in my pants. “Corr. You’re killing me here.” Mark reaches down and unbuckles his belt. I can see his erection – straining to poke out of the pocket at his hip. He undoes his button and unzips. In order to get his pants down, he has to push his boner in toward his hip – and with some stretching, he’s able to get his pants down past his impressive obstacle. He shucks his pants and stands straight up – he only has on a small pair of sexy red briefs – which are completely defeated by his massive hardon. He’s so rampantly erect that it’s pulling his waistband away from his hip – and I can clearly see a girthy piece of meat that’s almost as thick as my wrist – and long enough to poke past his hip. Previously, I had only caught a brief glimpse of his flaccid cock – which was still a good size. And I had certainly felt his boner through his pants – so I knew that he was carrying an impressive tool. But now… Mark reaches down and gives his boner a squeeze through his briefs. He lets out a low growl of pleasure. “…so horny…” Mark pulls his briefs down and releases his cock – the thick tree-trunk stands perfectly straight out from his body. “Oh fuck.” He’s perfect. “Yes, that’s exactly what I want to do.” He replies. He leans in for a kiss. I grab on to his hard delts and pull him in. He cups my ass with both hands and drives his tongue into my mouth. I run my hands across the mounds of muscle in his back and try to squeeze his firm glutes – they’re solid. His hard boner is sandwiched between us, I can feel it poking up into my abs – a very thick pipe that almost reaches up to my nipples. With tongues intertwined, we start making our way down the hall toward Mark’s bedroom. He pulls my shirt off over my head. And having his tongue out of my mouth gives me a moment to speak. “Mark. How is this going to work?” “Oh yeah… You have a point.” He picks up on my concern. “Perhaps a condom?” “That should work.” Mark leaps off to the bathroom while I strip off the rest of my clothes. He returns opening the wrapper and taking out the condom. He’s framed in the light from the hallway – the outline of a physique model who’s taken a liking to the gym. His glorious tree-trunk cock pointing directly forward is bobbing as he walks. I’m already at full erection, and my balls churn at the sight of the gorgeous hunk of man. “Let me get this on you.” Mark kneels down in front of me, grabbing the base of my dick. “You have such a beautiful cock.” And just before beginning to roll on the condom – he quickly rams my boner down his throat – providing a bit of lube for the condom. I can see a bit of moisture on his lips – was that pre-cum, or just saliva? If it was pre-cum, it likely wasn’t enough for any noticeable growth. Now that I’m covered, Mark stands up and we resume our tongue fencing. I used to be stronger than my nerdy boyfriend – but I would now agree with Mark’s assessment that he’s got the upper hand in the muscles department. He’s able to manhandle me down onto the bed – he’s on top and has me pinned – not that I’m trying to escape. My one hand is trying to make a dent in his ass, while my other hand is strumming across the ripples in his deltoid. Our two cocks are grinding against each other, fighting for space between our sandwiched bodies. I can feel the heat from Mark’s thick cock – and he’s leaking pre-cum – which is providing some lubrication as he’s grinding on top of me. Mark whispers, “I need to fuck you.” “With that giant piece of meat?” “I’ll go easy.” Like any good gay boy, Mark has a bottle of lube stashed beside the bed. He’s already got me on my back – he lifts my legs in the air and positions himself. He gently massages my hole with a lubed finger – teasing. My cock throbs and my balls churn with anticipation. He leans in for a lingering kiss, and then plants a trail of kisses down my neck and across my chest. His finger is gently massaging my prostate. My balls tighten up; my cock throbs. Mark removes his finger and directs the lubricated head of his cock toward my tight hole. I can feel the warmth and the moisture as he gently rubs his cockhead around my sphincter. He’s taking his time – my cock is throbbing in anticipation. Mark slowly begins to apply pressure, gently. He’s a pro at taking his time. His teasing is effective – my anxious anticipation is turning into eager desire – I want his cock deep in me. I feel the release as the thick cockhead fully enters. Mark pauses for a moment, leans forward and plants another string of kisses across my chest. I can feel him slowly rocking back and forth – applying just enough pressure to ease his massive cock in a little farther, and then backing away enough for me to feel the release. My cock is pulsing – I can feel every heartbeat in my raging erection. Mark continues to rock back-and-forth – his cock slowly driving deeper – I can feel the engorged head pushing its way farther up my ass. Finally, I can feel his firm balls nestled into my glutes. Mark takes a pause, leans forward and gives me a gentle kiss. Then he starts grinding – rocking back-and-forth – his cock pushing and pulling deep inside my ass. I am in ecstasy – my balls are clenched tight – my cock is on fire. He’s grinding my boner between our bodies. My hands are clamped tight on his glorious muscles – dense and hard to the touch. I can feel myself nearing climax. And I can also feel Mark nearing climax – as I can feel his thick cock swelling with the approaching orgasm. As he nears the edge, I can feel his muscles clench in anticipation – getting harder underneath my hands. This just excites me further – and then… Through my clenched teeth, “I’m gonna cum!” And I can feel the moisture flood my abs. Oh no! The condom has come off! It’s been dislodged with all that back-and-forth grinding. Mark hasn’t been swelling with an approaching orgasm – he’s been absorbing my pre-cum! And now I’ve just cum all over my abs! Mark is still lying on top of me – still eagerly fucking my ass. And now I can feel my cum drying up, being absorbed by Mark’s already gorgeous body. The first thing I notice is the surge of growth in his cock – the thick cockhead pushes a little deeper and the girthy shaft swells further. I can also feel Mark’s muscles growing – he’s becoming heavier. His pecs widen and push harder into my chest. I can feel his delts widening and thickening underneath my hands. And his eyes inch slightly up toward mine as he adds new height. He’s clearly stronger than me now – his thrusting is increasing in intensity. Impaled on his cock, I’m grinding on the bed as he’s fucking my ass. “Oh fuck yes!” (that’s me) “I’m gonna cum!” “Cum in my ass Mark!” I can feel his cock finally swell with the oncoming orgasm. The hard muscles of his body lock up – he freezes in place as his balls clench, his cock surges – and I can feel the intensity of his orgasm deep inside my ass – shot after intense shot. After the eternity of orgasm – Mark unfreezes. He collapses on top of me in exhaustion. His body is weighty – but even post-orgasm, his body is still densely-packed, hard muscle. He picks his head up and gives me a tender kiss. “You’re fucking amazing.” He has the more adorable post-sex puppy dog eyes and warm smile. “Thanks. You’re amazing too… And, if you don’t mind me saying… also rather heavy.” “Oops.” He lifts his torso up – and I can breathe freely. “Be gentle coming out.” Referring to his massive cock still stuck up my butt. “I’ll go slowly.” His cock was massive before, but now – even post orgasm – it is gigantic. Definitely as thick as my wrist – and hanging over a large set of balls, it is still hanging half-way down to his knees. The rest of him is just as impressive. Mark stands up beside the bed. His frame has filled out. He’s developed a gorgeous set of rounded delts that are corded with muscle fibres. And where the mounds of his delts come to a taper, out springs the mountains of his biceps and triceps – his biceps look as if he is smuggling a pair of softballs under his skin – and each one has a prominent vein. His pecs have become a bit of a shelf, pushing out over his abs. The ridges of his abdominals are now more prominent – and are clearly showing a solid eight-pack. His stance is now wider to accommodate the growth in his quads, which flare out from his tight hips to give him an impressive “X” shape. I stand up beside him – and I am now looking at least two inches up whereas before we were close to the same height. “I guess I’m going to have to get used to being the short one.” “If this happens every time we have sex, this could start to become a problem. How about we shower and get to bed – it’s been a long day. In the morning, we can discuss plans.” Although I really wanted an excuse to get my hands all over Mark’s muscles, we decided it would be safest to take turns in the shower. We curl up in bed. Due to Mark’s new size, it just makes sense for him to be the big spoon. He wraps an arm around me, and we curl up together. His muscles are firm, and I can feel the very sizeable lump of his cock nestled in the cleft of my ass. His breath is gently tickling my neck. This is heaven – and I am quickly asleep.
  9. Chapter 1 Cal was searching frantically in the supply room. “Let’s go, boys! On the field in five!” Shit shit shit.” His first practice and he didn’t have a uniform. He counted himself lucky to be on the football team as a freshman, but being late to his first practice wouldn’t bode well for his future. His parents had helped him buy his own set of pads, pants, and cleats, but he was supposed to get a jersey from the school. If it wasn’t for his ass of a math teacher he would’ve been early to get a jersey, but now he was shit out of luck. Pushing aside old bags of deflated balls and pads that still reeked of B.O., his hopes dashed by a jersey only to find a huge tear in it. He could feel his heartbeat faster as he counted down the seconds. “Fuckin finally!” Pulling a jersey out of the corner, he inspected it quickly. Still sporting the school colors but in an almost retro design. No holes, rips, and it didn’t smell that bad, it was, however, nearly 4 sizes too large. Standing at a proud 6’0 and 183 lbs, Cal was a size large, an xl accounting for his pads. Checking the tag, it was a size 5xl. Putting it on, cursing his luck. Checking in the mirror, the collar and sleeves were disproportionately huge, the waist billowing halfway down his thighs. Still, it was manageable and would probably last until he could get a fresh jersey. Running out to the field, his oversized jersey billowing around him. The other players were already on the field doing warmups, Coach Stevens off to the side talking to the quarterback and a couple of other seniors. Joining everyone else for what seemed like a couple of laps around the field, Cal took the opportunity to check out his fellow teammates. It was hard to tell under everyone’s gear, but it looked like Cal was the biggest freshman there. He was still clearly outmatched by some of the more seasoned athletes. Still, he was proud of how far he’d come. He spent his junior high years playing soccer and only recently started lifting weights in his free time. By the time Summer started, the repeated soccer practices and games started to lose their excitement. It had started out fun, the competition, the training, the wins. But after a few weeks, it didn’t seem as exhilarating. Soon lured by the intensity of football, Cal found himself admiring the lifestyle. The games, the intensive training, the social life. Starting in June, he began working out, increasing his calorie intake, and even started taking supplements. He remembered fondly the thrill of first seeing the fruits of his labor. After two weeks of his regiment, he felt his shirtsleeves starting to bunch up over his biceps. Soon he could feel his pecs start to press out against the fabric. He practiced flexing in the mirror, seeing his muscle tone increase week by week. By the time Fall came around, he proudly marked his progress over the summer in his head: 1 inch taller and 23 lbs of bulk added to his powerful frame. Cal could feel his pulse beginning to rise as he quickened his pace. The excitement of actually being on the field, Cal tried to take it all in. The smell of sweat and fresh grass filling his lungs, his cleats digging into the field as he jogged ahead. Completing their laps, the players gathered round for a quick introduction and an overview of their games for the season. Remorsefully, Cal accepted that he wouldn’t be able to play most of the season’s games. Going out on the field in groups, Cal paired himself up with two other freshman newbies for some beginner tackles. Trusting his size and abilities, Cal prepped himself to rush the faux quarterback and the poor guy protecting him. The ball was thrown and Cal launched himself at the receiver, taking him down in a tumble. Cal could feel his muscles vibrating with energy as he jumped back up, ready to go again. That whole afternoon, it seemed like nothing could tire him. They kept going until sunset. By then everyone was ready to collapse, but Cal felt like he could keep going for hours. Getting home and tossing off his sweaty clothes, he got into the shower. Feeling the heat from his pumped muscles escape into the frigid water, Cal relaxed his energized body. As the water crept up in temperature, he paid close attention to his groin. Proud of what he had for his age, Cal soaped up his schlong and balls. Swinging to its full 6.5 inches, he gently stroked it. Getting out of the shower, his hard on bouncing up and down, Cal started to towel off his muscular torso. Looking down, he could feel something off about his point of view. His normally small but hard pecs looked bigger, protruding further out. Checking himself in the mirror, he could tell his frame was much thicker than it was that morning. Jumping on the scale, it read 195. “195? What the fuck?!” Out of nowhere, a deep voice behind him chuckled, “Awesome right?”
  10. musclelovingtwink

    muscle growth Addicted

    Chapter 1 When I met Dane, he wasn’t exactly what you’d call normal. Even at that time in his early twenties, he was 6’3” and well over 200 pounds of shredded muscle. We worked out at the same gym. I fit my workouts in around my university schedule, but it seemed like whatever time I went, there he was, dripping with sweat and lifting some ungodly weight. Within the first week of my working out there, he had met my eyes more than once and smiled as he noticed the slack-jawed expression I usually had while I was ogling at his feats of inhuman strength. One Friday night, he stopped in the middle of a set to come right up to me. “You like what you see, man?” he said, flexing an incredible bicep in front of my face for emphasis. It had a perfect split peak and the striations were beautifully visible through his paper-thin skin. “Y-Yeah.” I managed to say. Struggling to tear my eyes away from the immense arm and to look him in the eye. He smiled even wider, showing off a set of perfect, straight, white teeth. Aside from the physique of a god, his jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes made him the absolute picture of beauty. “Good,” he said, “Because I’m gonna be the biggest there ever was.” He stretch out his hand and shook the limp appendage that was my arm. “I’m Dane.” “Lachie.” I replied. What happened next is still a complete haze to me, but the next thing I remember I was in the locker room being fucked senseless by the most perfect Adonis I’d ever seen. Looking past my own face reflected in the mirror as I gripped the sink, I saw the golden god of a man. Like me, his eyes saw nothing but himself. Both his and my gaze raked every shredded inch of his torso. His perfect 8-pack abs crunched with every thrust, beads of sweat rolling over the deep clefts between them. There wasn’t so much as a hint of fat on his whole body, yet his pecs were so thick and so rounded that they hung over the top of his abs, casting a shadow down. In that moment I wished I’d been born a contortionist just so that I could suck the perfect broad nipples that hung below those pecs while he kept fucking me. I felt his hands dig into my sides, knowing bruises would absolutely be there within minutes. The sudden flex telling me he was close to climax. I looked into his face and he spared me the briefest of glances. Sweat dragged his perfect, dark wavy hair down until it just teased in front of his eyes. His lips twisted into a cocky half-grin accentuated by his inhumanly square jaw, and I felt his monstrous cock explode inside me. It truly felt like a bomb going off deep inside me. How one man could hold that much cum inside him seemed impossible, and he didn’t strike me as someone who had dry streaks. He had to take a good step back to pull all 11 inches of still-hard, tremendously thick meat out of me. I slumped onto a nearby bench, absolutely wrecked while he stood for a second still admiring himself in the mirror. The man had just done a workout that would turn the strongest of men to jelly then spent a solid ten minutes ploughing me with the force of a jackhammer and he wasn’t even winded. It only just occurred to me how in the blur of passion I’d let this guy fuck me in the open in a very public bathroom. I was shocked at the lack of interruption, but blushing furiously I realised the amount of noise I’d made had probably warned people not to come in. Hell, it had probably warned people a block away. Still buck naked, Dane strutted past me to open up a locker. God his ass was so huge, round and striated that, had I not been completely devoid of the energy to move, I probably would’ve sunk my teeth in. He swung a leg over the bench I sat on, bearing his still rock-hard cock right in my face. Saying “balls the size of chicken’s eggs” strikes me as cliched, but I’m gonna be honest here, if your chicken was laying eggs this size you’d have your face in a record book. They slung under his cock and just laid out on the bench. “You don’t mind do you?” he asked, and breaking eye contact with his dick (with some effort) I noticed he had a needle and a small vial in his hands. Without waiting for an answer, he drew on the needle and filled it with a clear, faintly pink fluid from the vial before plunging it straight into one of the enormous testicles sitting in front of him. I’m not afraid to say I flinched, a lot. As the plunger of the needle dropped, I swear to god, I watched veins spring up over the surface of the massive ball, and snake their way up the thick shaft. I can’t attest as to whether he was fully hard when he shot up with the strange liquid, but as the veins sprang out from his cock, it definitely throbbed just a little larger. He laughed in that beautiful deep voice. “Sorry about that, but right after is the best time to do it.” He looked at the look of shock and awe on my face and grinned again. “This is some secret shit, real experimental,” he said tapping the vial with a broad finger. “Don’t tell anyone, I wouldn’t want to have to hurt you.” I looked up at him with more shock, and less awe, and he gave me a quick wink. He stood up and turned back to the locker. Once again I was struck, not only by the sheer perfection that was his ass, but also by just how wide his lats were. The man had to be at least three times as wide as me. I noticed the odd protrusion of his veins was still spreading over his form, albeit less intensely than it had at the point of impact. He pulled a pair of white briefs on that struggled to leave anything to the imagination, in fact, the waistband couldn’t match the tightness of his waistline, as his immense cock and balls pulled it forwards. He pulled on some loose gym shorts and an even looser stringer and strutted towards the exit. He turned back at the door, glancing over vein-covered traps to call back to me. “I put my number in your phone, text me.” I looked at the pile on the floor where I’d left my clothes to see my phone sitting neatly on top. Putting aside the fact that it was pin protected, and I hadn’t seen him have any time to do so, I found a new entry in my contacts under “Dane – BF.” I had no idea what the hell had just happened or what I’d got into, so I just pulled my clothes on, and avoiding the stares of everyone in the gym as I made the walk of shame, I headed home to pass out.
  11. Hi, everyone! So I'm starting this experimental series to see if a more traditional narrative would work here, and I would really appreciate all feedback and critique to help me improve. This is mostly going to involve more plot and character than growing, although there will still be a lot of growing done. It just won't be the main focus (for now). Writing is something I don't normally get to do on a regular basis, but it's something I want to make a living out of, so all advice is incredibly welcome. I am more than willing to alter the way the narrative develops and is written depending on how people prefer their pacing and writing. Thanks and enjoy! Hard at Work [Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5a -5b - 6 - 7 - 8a - 8b - 8c - 9 - 10 - 11a - 11b - 12a - 12b - 13] PART 1 Working at my job wasn’t exactly the most exciting thing in the world, but it paid the bills. On an average day, I would sit at my desk, wondering how a bachelor’s degree in Chemistry got me a job in human resources. It’s not like I had particularly good chemistry with other people either. During my time at the company so far, I’ve only been able to get close to two people. One of them was a co-worker of mine named Marcus. He often pulled pranks on me and made childish jokes at my expense whenever we took a break for coffee. Normally, him being a 23-year-old man, anyone would expect some sort of maturity or sense of responsibility. Marcus was nothing of the sort. He played around far too much and just did whatever the hell he wanted to. Every attempt our boss had at scolding him fell on deaf ears. With any other employee, our boss’ words would stop us dead in our tracks. Boss had that charismatic, authoritative aura about him. Unlike Marcus, our boss, Mr. Wesley Smith, or just Wes, took everything seriously. He had a reputation to uphold. Sure, he had his fair share of dad jokes every now and then, but people in the workplace were already so used to Marcus’ absurd antics that nobody ever really noticed. The three of us were often referred to around the office as the “threesome of power.” In one way or another, we all held some sort of power around the office. Wes had his obvious influence and status. Marcus had his absurdity and over-all charisma. Compared to them, I didn’t have as much. All anyone ever told me was that I was the glue that held together our little threesome. In my opinion, it’s just an excuse to call us a threesome since we’re always together. I wasn’t a big fan of the name, honestly. Especially since I was the only gay one. The main reason people chose to describe us as a “threesome” specifically is that Marcus and Wes were probably the most attractive and sought-after guys at the workplace. Marcus was 5’11” and pretty damn attractive. He had wavy, blonde hair that looked like it was streaked with chocolate, and his eyebrows were incredibly thick and a deep chestnut. Of the three of us, he also had the best body. He had been a model in his university years, so he developed a toned, muscled body with a deep V-shaped torso and disproportionate pecs and shoulders. On the other hand, Wes wasn’t bad looking, but all his time spent in bars showed. He was a good-looking man for his age, 31, having South-East Asian genes, and he had a strong square face that accentuated his stocky figure, being only 5’6”. He did go to the gym after work, but he developed a gut after all the vodka. People often say his most attractive feature is his cat eyes. His eyebrows also tilted inwards, so he always had this fierceness about him. It didn’t seem like he was meant to be built in any way besides a small tank either. While Marcus and Wes were the stars of our threesome, I was labeled the “DUFF.” I was only 24, but the new terms the kids kept coming up with always got lost on me. I was the least attractive among us, I must admit. 5’7” isn’t exactly a height anyone would be flaunting off. It’s not that I looked like Quasimodo though. I was just… average—nothing spectacular about me. On one particularly rainy day, Marcus approached me at my desk, wearing his favorite sky blue button-down. He leaned over the divider with a coffee in his hand and sipped it so loudly it echoed. “What are we gonna do about the rain? Do you wanna just move bar night to Wes’ condo again?” he asked. “Yeah, but have you asked him? We might still be banned since you wrecked his condo the last time.” Marcus flubbed his lips, nearly spilling his coffee on my desk. “Don’t worry about it! Wes’ll understand. Besides, this time we got someone to clean our shit.” “I’m not cleaning your mess this time, Marcus.” “Not you, stupid. I meant the new intern. Wes said he was coming in today.” I looked at him, puzzled. “What new intern? No one told me about any new interns.” “That’s because you never join the meetings.” “What? The last meeting we had was two months ago, and literally all we talked about was how you put red food coloring in the water tanks to make it look like we were drinking blood.” Marcus laughed. “Well, now we just have meetings at the bar. I managed to convince him to move our meetings to the conference room with the dancers.” He chuckled. I sighed. “Fine, whatever. What’s his name? The intern, I mean.” “Ah, wait.” Eric brought out his phone. “I’ll ask Wes.” We waited for the phone to pick up. As soon as we heard Wes’ voice, Marcus didn’t hesitate to yell. “Yo, Wes!” I could hear an audible sigh come from the phone. “What’s up, Marcus? I’m kinda busy right now.” “I just told Dory about the new intern, but I forgot his name. What was it again?” “Froy Adamson. 20 years old from Harbridge University. He just texted and said he was coming up. Could you two let him in and show him around? Thanks.” “Sure thing, sir.” Marcus bounced his head to the side and looked at me as if he were planning something. He always did his squinted eyes, raised eyebrows, and pouted mouth. It was a staple of his. He wasn’t fooling anyone doing a face like that. I wonder if he ever noticed. He put the phone back in his pocket. “Well, Dory, looks like you’ve got some more work to do.” I knew it. “Seriously? Didn’t he tell us to handle him? To-ge-ther?” Marcus shrugged. “Well, I’ve got some work to do, and I’m reeaally tired.” He yawned. “You can handle the kid by yourself, right?” I said yes, and he was off, walking back to his desk. I don’t know why I let him do this to me. He’s lucky he was hot. Before I could prepare myself for the new intern, there was a knock coming from the glass door. I got up and headed over. Only people without access cards couldn’t get in and had to knock, which meant it had to be the intern. If I heard correctly, his name was supposed to be Froy, and a student at Harbridge… damn, someone was loaded. I got to the glass door and saw him standing outside. He was wearing a black button-down with his sleeves rolled up and skintight black jeans. They must have been pretty big too since he looked like he had to be at least 6’1”. His jet black hair was short and cropped with little spikes sticking up. He had a cute face too. He had the most precious baby button nose and pronounced dimples, making him look younger than he actually was. I wouldn’t be surprised if girls crushed on him everywhere. He had a decently lean body, but he definitely had bodybuilder potential by the way his broad shoulders stuck outwards, much like Marcus’. However, it didn’t seem like he was the braggart type. If anything, he was a bookworm. He looked like he lived and breathed in a library. All he was missing was a pair of glasses, but instead, he had the most perfect eyelashes. The poor thing seemed soaked by the rain. I opened the door for him and let him come inside, causing him to shiver in his shirt from the cold, freezer-like office temperature. He smiled at me and giggled nervously. “Sorry, sir,” he said with a nervous smile. “I forgot to bring an umbrella. I didn’t think it would rain today.” My heart hadn’t fluttered in so long by a guy’s voice. The last time I felt this elevated was when I was still in college and chatting up the star football athlete before he got caught doping and got expelled. I missed having crushes like this. Thankfully, Froy seemed to be legal. A co-worker of mine already got fired once for having “intimate relations” with an underage intern. I wasn’t going to be next. “It’s fine. Are you Froy?” I asked. He nodded. “Yes, sir. I was supposed to start last week, but my mother had an emergency at the hospital, so I couldn’t leave.” “It’s fine, don’t worry. Family first,” I said. “Did you bring an extra shirt? You might get sick if you wear that wet shirt here all day.” “No, sir. I don’t have anything to change into. Sorry.” I grabbed his forearm. “It’s fine. Here, I’ll let you borrow one of my backup shirts.” “Sir, are you sure?” “Yeah, it’s fine.” I brought him to my desk where I grabbed him a seat. My co-workers who passed by would smile at him, enticed by his cute face and meek demeanor. He’d greet them back with a small wave and shy smile. Some people even came up and asked me if he was my new boyfriend. How many times did I have to tell everyone that I’ve never had a boyfriend before? They were just making the boy uncomfortable. I brought out a plain white shirt from my emergency kit and handed it over to him. He looked it over and thinking about it now, it was probably too small for him. Such was a con of being six inches shorter than someone. He held it up to the light, trying to estimate its size. “I don’t think it’s gonna fit,” I said. “Could I try it on, sir? Just to be sure?” “Sure, go ahead. Just don’t tear it.” I leaned back into my seat as I watched him begin unbuttoning his button-down. At the back of my mind, I knew this was leaning towards sexual harassment—and on the first day of his internship to boot—but I couldn’t help myself. The kid wasn’t reacting negatively either, so I guessed he was okay with it. A lawsuit was the last thing I needed. He started from the top-down, exposing his lean muscle underneath. He had a decently-sized chest for his leanness, and I never noticed how perky his nipples were underneath the black fabric either. There was no body hair on him too, just like Wes. “Nice abs,” I said. He blushed. “Ah, thank you, sir.” “You go to the gym or something? You play sports?” “No, sir. I used to be part of the gymnastics team, but I quit so I could focus on my studies.” Froy raised up his arms and tried squeezing into my shirt. He stuck his head through the tight hole and did his best to stretch out my shirt to fit in as much as possible. He looked ridiculous. It was like a man trying to wear a child’s dress. “You’ve still got a nice frame. If you went to the gym, I bet you could build it up easily,” I said. He looked ridiculous in my shirt. The sleeves didn’t even reach past his shoulders, so the fabric dug into his armpits. The shirt only reached the first set of abs, exposing his core and defined pelvis. It looked like a crop top. How he even got into something so tight is still a mystery to me. “Sir, I’m not sure I can wear this.” “Obviously.” I punched his abs. “Come on, let’s go ask someone else. I’m too short to be lending you my clothes.” “You’re not too short, sir.” “Yeah, you’re just too tall.” I told him to take off the shirt. He looked like he was in too much pain to be wearing something so ridiculous before we found a better replacement. As he raised it over his head and pulled his arms through the sleeves, he accidentally tore it down the side from the left sleeve down to the hem. He froze in panic. “Sir, I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to break your shirt. It was an accident, sir, I swear.” “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It’s just a shirt.” His lean torso was now exposed to the cold of the office again, but at least he wasn’t squeezed so tightly in my shirt. I didn’t want to kill him before Marcus did. I couldn’t afford that kind of blood on my hands at my age. No way my salary was going to cover it. I led the tall kid over to Marcus’ desk at the other end of the office. Marcus looked visibly disturbed, watching in silence as I approached with a tall, shirtless kid following closely behind me. I didn’t know what he was going to say or do. His eyes just kept darting back and forth between us, seemingly asking me, “What the fuck is going on?” “Hey, Marcus, this is the intern, and he—” “Why is he shirtless?” Marcus interrupted. I looked back at Froy, looking lost as always. “He got wet in the rain, and I told him I’d get him a new shirt. I tried giving him mine, but, uh…” Marcus raised an eyebrow. “But what? Dory, I need to tell you as a friend that you are very small. Did you try lending him your shirt? Was it too small? Did you come all the way here, to my cubicle, while I’m working, to ask for a shirt from me?” “Yes.” “Alright, here you go.” Marcus dug into his drawer and tossed Froy a clean, black shirt. Froy looked confused but put on the shirt. It fit him perfectly. Thankfully, Marcus’ tailored shirts to fit his broad shoulders and chest fit Froy just right. It was a bit short at the hem though. His pelvis would peek whenever he moved, but he was well-covered. The sleeves also accentuated what muscle he had on his arms, as expected from Marcus. “I have to say though, he’s got a nice body,” Marcus said. “The ‘overtime work’ he’ll be doing later is gonna be a nice work-out.” “Marcus, he’s not a maid.” “And I’m not Frida Kahlo.” “You aren’t.” “Shut up,” Marcus said. “Hey, kid, you’ll be coming with us after work, right?” Froy’s eyes grew wide. “Uh…” “Marcus, it’s only his first day. He doesn’t even know our names yet!” “It’ll be fiiiine. My name’s Marcus Fringe, and there’s your Sir Dorian Yale. You can just call us Marcus and Dory. Our boss is Sir Wesley Smith: short, stocky Asian dude. You can call him Wes. If you ever wanna come work for us, you could be a part of our little circle of friends here. We got cookies.” “Oh, I like cookies,” Froy whispered. “Stop fucking with my intern, Marcus.” “You’re not my mom.” Wes’ office was right in front of Marcus’ cubicle. Any time Marcus made too much noise or whenever Wes would leave for the washroom and caught Marcus doing something stupid, Wes would be the first to scold him. He often threatened to lower his pay, but Marcus didn’t care. They were too close to actually do anything like that. As we were talking, the door to Wes’ office opened. He walked out, wearing a skintight banana yellow collared shirt that showed off his muscles and small gut. Every shirt in his wardrobe seemed to be skintight. I remember him telling us once that he was raised to only wear the tightest clothing because it makes you look bigger. He was only 5’6”, so I could understand why. “Why are you making so much noise, Marcus?” he asked, standing in the doorway. “Oh.” I waved at him. “Hi, sir. This is Froy, the intern. I was just asking Marcus for an extra shirt since he got wet in the rain.” “Well, take care of him then. Show him around the floor or something, I dunno,” Wes said. “Oh, and Dory…” “Yes, sir?” “Take him out with ya later, aight? We’re gonna have a little fun.” Oh god. “Yes, sir.” Wes was returning to his office when Froy spoke up. “Oh, sir!” he said. “How do I get through the door? I don’t have an access card.” “Hm? You don’t need an access card. You just grab the handle, twist it, then pull. That’s how you open a door.” “Wes, never speak again,” Marcus said. “What about this?” Wes whispered. “Or this ♪?” he sang. “I’m done,” I said. “And I’m just getting started!” He fired double finger guns at me with the silliest grin, laughing at himself immediately afterwards. We all separated and went back to our work for the day. I finished up the rest of my work as fast as I could so that I’d have more time to tour Froy around the building. It was just a hunch, but I thought he’d appreciate the convenience store. The store has an unlimited sundae cone deal where you could get as much ice cream as you wanted as long as it’s in one continuous swirl and it doesn’t fall over. When we got there, I saw his eyes light up like a child at the carnival. He wasted no time and immediately ordered a sundae cone. I didn’t even have to tell him. It seemed like he was used to doing this sort of thing already. By the time the ice cream was five inches tall, I was getting worried. It looked like it would fall at any moment. “Froy, are you sure you wanna keep going?” “Yes, sir! I’ve done this before. My mom calls me a master at this.” By the time it reached 8 inches tall, he stopped the machine. He stood still at first, watching it intently. It looked like he was trying to connect his soul to the sundae, becoming one with its spirit or something. When he finally got it to stabilize, he smiled. “See, sir?” he said. Then he raised it up and dunked it in his mouth, all the way down to the cone. My eyes grew wide. Froy just took in 8 inches of freezing cold sundae in his mouth like it was nothing. “What the fuck? Did you just eat the entire thing in one bite?” He nodded, still swallowing the ice cream. When he finished, he accidentally exhaled into my face, filling my nose with his cold, breath-infused chocolate smell. He apologized and offered to wipe it off my nose. I had to tell him to stop since he still had the cone to finish. “How the fuck did you do that?” “My brothers taught me when I was younger how to exercise my gag reflex so I could take in more things. I could fit a whole foot-long in my mouth too!” he said. “It just got kinda messy… so we had to stop.” His face sunk. The cute smile he wore faded away after it seemed like he remembered something. “What happened?” “They, uh, taught me to give them blowjobs when I was 12. I thought it was normal for a few years, then they got arrested for selling drugs when I was 15. My mother told me they were horrible to me and told me what they were doing to me was wrong. So now I’m trying to find a job to pay for my mother’s hospital bills since I’m her only family left. She already used up all her savings on my tuition.” I felt horrible for him and found myself hugging him. He was stiff and caught in surprise at first, but he softened up and wrapped his arms around me too. I didn’t know he lived like this. I couldn’t take advantage of someone like him. It wouldn’t be right. “I’m so sorry.” He gave his ice cream a quick lick. “Don’t worry, sir, it’s fine. I’m over it now. I still miss them though.” “Who? Your brothers? They molested you as a kid. You shouldn’t be missing them. They deserve to rot in prison.” “We used to play games every day outside our house. They even bought me a goldfish once for my 14th birthday since it was all they could afford with their own money. I named him Pudge.” We headed back to my desk upstairs after finishing his ice cream and filing for his access card. The issue with his brothers was something we didn’t want to bring up too much in case he got triggered. More than half the office had already gone home for the day. Marcus, Wes, and I planned to leave for Wes’ condo at 8pm with Froy together. After I finished up, I asked Froy if he was okay with it. It was only his first day as an intern. I wouldn’t be surprised if he declined. Who knows what we might have been planning to do to him outside office hours? “It’s okay with me, sir.” “Are you sure? I haven’t even told you what we were doing.” “Oh, uh,” he said before chuckling nervously. “We’re going to your sir Wes’s condo to drink. Wes and Marcus just want you to be their sober caretaker, so you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” Froy waved his hands. “Oh, no, sir, it’s okay with me. I’m used to being the sober one with my friends.” “Oh, okay. And don’t worry about something bad happening to you. None of us have ever done anything crazy before. Besides, Marcus is straight, and Wes is bi, but he has a family. I’m the only gay one here.” His eyebrows shot up. “You’re gay, sir?” “Yeah, why?” He looked away. “Nothing, sir.” That led me to wonder. Was he also gay? I guessed I could always figure that out some other time. After we packed up, we headed down to the basement carpark where Marcus and Wes were waiting for us at Wes’ truck. There were paper cups everywhere. It seemed like they’d been waiting there for a few years by the way they were lounging around and drinking coffee endlessly. When we got there, Marcus walked up to me and grabbed me by the shoulders. “What the fuck took you so long?” he asked. His pointed gaze shot into my skull. “You told me not to fuck with your intern, but is it really me you should be worrying about?” “We were just finishing up some shit. It took longer than expected. Sorry ‘bout it.” “Just get in the fucking truck already!” Wes yelled. “The vodka isn’t gonna drink itself!” I sat in the passenger seat, with Marcus and Froy in the back. It was the system we developed together when we first started hanging out at bars a few months ago. Marcus hated seatbelts and feeling claustrophobic, and I preferred the safety of the seatbelt. The three of us normally went out to the bar down the street on foot, but tonight, we decided to head to Wes’ condo instead to avoid the rain. The only thing different was that we had Froy with us. “Hey, kid, what was your name again?” Marcus asked. “Uh, sir, Froy Adamson, sir.” “Froy?” Marcus began to chuckle. He was visibly struggling to hold in his laughter. “Like fro-yo?” Froy was silent. “...Yes, sir. Frozen yogurt.” Marcus released his contained laughter, nearly keeling over his seat. Froy became worried and began to panic. Wes and I had to reassure him that making fun of people’s names was just something Marcus did on a daily basis to everyone around the office. Marcus was only a year younger than me, but he had the heart of a child that he never grew out of. We loved that about him. Marcus placed a hand on Froy’s shoulder. “I like this kid,” he said. Froy blushed. “I’m sure you do,” Wes said. “Everyone loves yogurt.” “Don’t predate on my intern, Marcus!” “I don’t wanna hear that from you, Dory!” Marcus said. “Hey, kid. I’ve been planning on going back to the gym again. If you ever wanna come with, just tell me, okay? You look like you’d be a great workout partner.” “Hey, what about me? Why do you ask the intern before your boss who you KNOW goes to the gym?” Wes asked. “How tall are you again, Wes?” Marcus asked. “Right now, about as high as your chances at a promotion, Marcus.” Marcus threw his arms around Wes’ seat. “Hey, come on! It was just a joke! It’s just too hard to be gym buddies with someone so short. Plus you’ve got that tiny gut.” “I can’t help it! Vodka might as well be my blood of Christ.” “So you’re a cannibal?” “What do you think happened to my first boyfriend?” The conversation continued for the next half hour on the road. Froy and I remained silent for the most part while Marcus and Wes bantered, with us being brought in every so often as jokes. Marcus couldn’t let go of “fro-yo.” The rain blocked the streets and kept us in traffic longer than we would have wanted. Wes began getting calls from his wife, asking about where he was since his kids were getting impatient after being locked up for so long. When we got to the forest separating Wes’ condo complex from the city district, Marcus brought out these small white pills he hid inside a tic-tac box. The resemblance was uncanny. Froy and I watched him, unaware of what the pills would do. No one was around to help if Marcus did something stupid. “Hey, Wes. You want a tic-tac?” Marcus asked. Froy and I watched in silence, fully aware of what Marcus was trying to do. “If you’re trying to bribe me for a pay raise again, it’s gonna take more than a tic-tac this time.” “No, seriously, come on. It’s just a candy. Completely free. No strings attached.” Wes held out a hand, and Marcus placed one on his palm. “This better not be another one of your fucking pranks, Marcus. The last one is still giving my kids diarrhea.” Wes threw the small white pill in his mouth without any hesitation. Suddenly, his stomach grumbled loudly. “God damn it, Marcus.” Marcus laughed and slammed his hand repeatedly against the back of Wes’ seat. Froy shifted closer to the door in fear. “What did you give him, Marcus?” I asked. “Dying in a car crash with you was not on my list of things to-do today.” “Mine too,” Froy mumbled. “Relax! It’s harmless. I already tried it on my dog, and nothing happened to her.” “I’m not a dog, Marcus! I’m your boss!” “And I’m not a scientist!” “That doesn’t make things any better, Marcus—Oh, my god... what the fuck is going on...” Wes looked uncomfortable, shifting around like there was a cactus on his seat. I looked down and saw that he was growing a tent in his pants. At first, I thought it was just viagra, but then a wet spot began to form. Wes’ face was red as a tomato and was completely speechless. I could smell the familiar smell that filled my room after school as a kid. Wes came. He came right in front of all of us. He didn’t even have to touch himself or do anything for it either. I looked back at Marcus and Froy, and Marcus’ face was frozen in a face of pure glee. He had the expression of a child witnessing Santa for the first time and couldn’t be happier. Froy on the other hand was completely mortified. The poor thing didn’t know how to react. Wes was barely able to keep his focus on the road because of the way he was feeling. He just came in his pants. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what that pill did to him. Wes stopped the truck at a nearby tree and turned off the truck, running out and checking the damages at a tree out of sight. The three of us followed suit. Marcus didn’t even look the least bit guilty about what he just did. Froy stood by me, waiting and watching for what happened next. “What the fuck did you give me?” Wes asked. Marcus waved his hands in the air. “Nothing! I swear it was just a bunch of random shit I found in my kitchen. I didn’t think it would do anything.” “Well, it did! Now my favorite pants are ruined.” Wes stepped back into the moonlight where we saw a massive wet spot all over his crotch. If we didn’t know it was cum, we might’ve mistaken it for piss just by its sheer quantity. I didn’t think it was possible to cum so much. Judging by the defined outline running down his left thigh as well, it seemed he was hiding more than just one secret. The short man had to compensate somewhere. “God damn it, Marcus.” “Come on, I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean it. I was gonna try it on myself, but I wanted to see if it—” “If it killed me?” “Well, no, but—” “I can’t believe I already wet myself… I haven’t even had a fucking bottle yet. You owe me for this.” Marcus shot me a look of relieved anguish, knowing he wasn’t going lose his job or his friendship. He walked up to Wes and helped him clean up by the tree. While Wes and Marcus were off cleaning up, Froy and I wandered a bit off to the forest to take in the beautiful nighttime scenery overlooking the city. The city lights shined brightly over the trees. They gave off an iridescent spotlight-lit night sky that shadowed the tree leaves and branches, blocking out the stars but lighting up the darkness. “This is a great view,” I said. “Yes, sir,” Froy replied. As we were enjoying our quiet time alone together, Froy noticed what looked like a shooting star in the empty sky. Wes and Marcus came over and joined us in staring at the falling light. A thought occurred to me, however, that this was not how falling stars normally worked. It looked as though it were literally falling out of the sky. I’m pretty sure falling stars aren’t supposed to look like they’re coming straight at us. “Hey, that’s no fucking shooting star, you idiots! That’s a meteor!” Wes said. “Hide behind something!” We could barely react when we saw that it was already a building’s height away from us. Froy and I hid behind a nearby tree. Marcus sprinted across to the truck with Wes. The burning rock rang a piercing loud screech in our ears before crash landing into the clearing between us and the truck. Flaming debris flew everywhere, covering the area in a black soot. Smoke filled the air for a good few minutes until we were able to breathe and see things again. All four of us emerged from our hiding spots and eyed the strange rock. Froy, Wes, and I approached it hesitantly, watching it from a distance in case it had any surprises waiting to pop out and do some serious harm. It could have had some new viruses or small flesh-eating aliens hiding inside. I highly doubted our job’s insurance program covered space AIDS. Meanwhile, while three of us were being careful, Marcus decided to make a headstart and gingerly walked up to it. He stuck out his hands and felt the intense heat emanating from the meteor. “What are you doing, Marcus?! Get back here where it’s safe,” Wes said. Marcus looked back and smiled. “Relaaax, it’s not gonna do anythingI” When the rest of us got to surround the meteor, it seemed to have cooled off. All four of us examined it closely, checking for any dangerous movements or glowing substances sticking out. For the next few minutes, it just seemed like it was a regular, boring old rock—from space. It didn’t grow a face and sing show tunes like I expected. I’d be lying if I said wasn’t disappointed. “It just seems like a rock,” Froy said. “Obviously,” Marcus said. “But what’s inside?” “If it's anything like your head, not much,” Wes said. “Then there’s nothing to worry about, right?” Marcus stepped into the crater and slammed his hands onto the meteor. He began pressing down on it with his body weight, trying to pressure it to crack open and reveal whatever monstrosity was inside of it. Froy and I backed away while Wes stepped forward and tried prying Marcus off of it. “Marcus, what are you doing?! Stop!” “I just wanna see what’s inside! It might have space diamonds, Wes!” Marcus let out a yell as he used all his strength and cracked open the meteor. From the crack, a neon green liquid splurged out, spilling onto Marcus’ shirt. He panicked, wondering what the hell the scentless, luminescent goo was, when suddenly the crack opened up further. It erupted, blasting a mortified Marcus with the strange gunk. He was covered head to toe, front to back, unable to even open his mouth or eyes in pure horror. The meteor now looked unstable. It was rumbling, and cracks began spreading from where Marcus first breached its outer shell. More and more of the green liquid spurted out. It didn’t seem long before it would explode. Marcus grumbled for help, running towards Wes. “Hey, stop! Don’t get that shit on me! I just got my pants dry!” Wes yelled. Before Marcus could even get to him, the meteor exploded. Nuclear green slime flew everywhere. Marcus got blasted back onto the ground by the sheer amount he was covered in. He didn’t look like he could move very well at all anymore. Wes was yelling out Marcus’ name when the goo flew into his mouth and covered his entire front from head to toe. I could hear him yelling as he swallowed it. “Sir!” As the meteor exploded towards us, Froy ran up to me. He used his body as a shield to block me from the slime, with his back spread out against the meteor. I looked up at him and saw fear in his eyes. Neither of us could move from where we were as we were frozen in absolute shock about what just happened. The meteor settled down, and there was green slime absolutely everywhere. It coated the trees, the grass, the soil, everything. Marcus was absolutely drenched in it, struggling to even stand up. Wes ran to a tree and began vomiting, trying to expel whatever he swallowed and trying to get himself clean again. Froy’s entire backside and his arms were completely covered. He shook his body as much as he could to try and get it off of him. “What the fuck just happened?” I asked. “That fucking—pfthuh—piece of shit meteor just fucking exploded!” Wes yelled, spitting out the remnants. “Are we going to fucking die?!” Marcus yelled, on his knees, crying in anguish at the sky, looking like a grotesque smile monster. “I don’t wanna fucking die, god!” “This is all your fault!” Wes said. “I’m fucking aware of that, Wes! I wasn’t expecting the meteor to be a fucking water balloon filled with green shit!” “Okay, everyone, just relax!” I said. “We just need to get clean and report this to the police so they can clean it up or something.” Marcus and Wes turned and glared at me, clean and dry from head to toe. “We can’t tell anyone about this! If the authorities find out we fucked with some meteor and got caught with some disease, then we might be forced to spend time in a lab until we die,” Wes said. Marcus pointed at me. “And why the fuck are you dry? Did you tell your little boytoy intern to be your shield?!” “No, he ran up to me himself. I didn’t tell him to do anything, Marcus.” “Fucking shit, man…” I stood watch by the truck while Froy, Wes, and Marcus cleaned themselves up by the river. It was nearly midnight when they got back looking absolutely exhausted after trying to get every drop of slime off their bodies for the past few hours. They dumped all their clothes in Wes’ gym bag and got into his truck in nothing but wet underwear. ‘Uncomfortable’ could not even begin to explain the atmosphere. I couldn’t even be bothered to appreciate all the hot, semi-naked bodies surrounding me when I was still reeling over what the hell just happened. I’d already seen all of them shirtless before at least once, but I had yet to see Froy’s business. Did he prefer boxers or briefs? Was he a shower or a grower? It didn’t seem that important. All I knew was that Wes was thick and hung like a motherfucker. “This has to be our secret, got it?” Wes said. “No one else can know about this.” We all agreed. None of us were in the mood to get dissected or experimented on for the rest of our lives. As Wes drove away, heading to his condo, I took one last look back at the scene. The meteor looked like a cracked egg that got blown up in a microwave. However, what seemed strange to me was how there seemed to be a lot less slime than before. What used to be a complete sheet of glowing green slime over everything was now mostly back to normal with some freckles here and there. It must have either dissipated in the atmosphere or got absorbed into the ground. Either way, it didn’t seem like that was just going to end there. I could feel in my gut that this wasn’t the last time this meteor was going to be a part of our lives. If the slime did get absorbed in the ground and trees, then what would happen with humans? There was no way they didn’t at least absorb some of it. There was just no way. Regardless, this was going to be our secret from now on. It seemed our little threesome just became a foursome.
  12. YoungHunk69

    muscle growth Max’s Muscle Blog

    This is a new story I’m starting that will be written as several blogposts documenting the muscle growth of a guy from a stick to a god. I will update it once every day or every other day, and it will include pictures. Hi, I’m Max and this is a new blog I have created to follow my muscular progress. I’m about to start taking this new supplement called Alpha Mix. (I’ve heard it’s been banned in most countries). I’ll be taking it every day before I work out in my high school’s weight room. I’m super pumped to see if it helps my muscle growth! Here goes nothing! Day 1: Well, as you can clearly see, I’m not a very muscular guy. I just started working out again last week, so I’m pretty new to this. Every time I’ve started working out, it seems like all the other guys in the weight room seem to laugh at my skinny little body, so I’m hoping to get at least a bit bigger with the help of this Alpha Mix. Speaking of Alpha Mix, today was the first day I tried it, and even though nothing has changed, I felt strangely confident all day, and my whole body felt almost like it was throbbing under my skin after the workout. That’s definitely never happened before. Anyway, I jerked off a bit when I got home later, and I noticed something strange. My cock felt a little odd the whole time, and then my cum was a bit oozier then normal. I just shrugged it off, though. It must just be a weird side affect of Alpha Mix.
  13. Part 1 I had graduated from art school a few months ago, but was still working as a barista at a coffee shop. Finding work as an artist was tough, so I had to keep working that crappy job until I could find something better. To take my mind off of that, I went to the gym to workout. Even though I didn’t know that much about lifting weights, I did what I could to build muscle. I always admired (and lusted after) huge muscle guys, wondering how they got so big. I had an athletic build, but my body was extremely small compared to those guys. I always wished I could be as big as them. When I hit the gym floor, I noticed two massively built older guys doing the bench press together. They were both wearing string tanks, tight shorts, weight belts and training shoes. They looked like they were 6 feet tall and weighed 280 pounds each and about 50 years old. Both were ruggedly handsome, one bald with a beard, the other with short dark hair and a mustache. And both their cocks were showing in those tight shorts underneath large muscle guts. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them as they took turns lifting the bar, loaded with four plates on each side. One grunted out rep after rep, while the other one encouraged him to keep going. They would slap each other on the chest after each set. “Good job, man! Looking pumped!” I could see their dicks harden and grew during the set. I moved to a flat bench next to them and hoped to get a better look while I worked my chest. I put 45-pound weights on each side of the bar and tried to get to ten reps. After a few, I started to struggle. “Hey little man, need some help?” I heard a deep voice ask. I looked up and saw a bald, bearded face staring down at me above a pair of massive pecs and a huge bulge. “Um, sure,” I responded. He put his hands under the bar, helping to guide it as I continued to push up and down. “There you go, keep pushing. Stay in form. That’s it.” His encouraging words helped me through the set, as I finished out the full ten reps. I sat up and turned to him and smiled. “Thanks, that was helpful.” He smiled back. “No problem. Do you want me to spot you for the rest of your set?” “Oh, I don’t want to interrupt your workout with your friend over there.” I motioned over to the other daddy, who was talking on his phone and adjusting his cock. “Oh, he has to take care of some business, so it’s all good.” “Ok, sure!” I got excited that this huge muscle daddy was helping me workout and I started to pop a boner in my sweats. I laid back down on the bench, hoping he didn’t notice my hardon. I started my next set and he guided me through it. His deep voice calmed me as I focused on lifting the bar up and down. The weight didn’t feel as heavy now. I did two more sets, feeling pumped at the end. “Good job! You got a nice pump from that!” He exclaimed, looking down at my pecs. I blushed, still feeling tiny compared to him. I looked down and caught his dick moving in his shorts. “Yeah, good job!” said the mustached daddy, who walked over, or waddled more accurately. His dick bounced as he moved. “Thanks. I’m pretty new to working out, so I’m still trying to learn the ropes.” I smiled sheepishly. They both exchanged glances. The bearded daddy said, “You want to work out with us? We can show you a few things. We have been doing this for awhile.” He raised his arm, flexed his thick bicep and laughed. My cock hardened immediately. “Sure!” I said, surprised at the invitation. They both slapped me on the back and chuckled. “Good! I’m Terrell and this is Tony.” Both reached out their meaty hands to shake my much smaller one. My cock quivered at their touch. “I’m Josh. Nice to meet you.” They led me over to a cable machine and set the weight up. I followed their instructions as they taught me proper form and technique. Hearing their deep voices tell me what do while working out my chest turned me on so much. I had to keep adjusting myself so my hardon wasn’t visible. But as the workout went on, the more intense it got and I soon forgot all about that and just focused on lifting weights. All I could hear were their voices telling me what to do as my pecs pushed themselves to the limit. By the end, my chest felt destroyed, but totally pumped. “Great workout, Josh. You really killed it!” Terrell said patting me on my chest with his giant hand. “Yeah, I’m impressed,” Tony remarked, also patting me on my chest. “Really?” I was practically out of breath and completely drenched in sweat. They were both covered in sweat and their pecs had swelled even more from the workout. I felt like a toothpick standing next to them. They were so wide and thick, packed with dense, veiny muscle. Every time they moved, their muscles twitched. I felt light headed being surrounded by so much muscle. I bent over to catch my breath. “You ok, Josh?” Tony asked. “Yeah, but I think that workout killed me, though.” Both laughed. “Good, that way you know it’s working!” He slapped me on the back. “We gotta run, but you wanna work out with us again sometime?” I looked stunned. Why were these muscle gods so willing to help me? “Um, yeah, I’d love to!” “Cool. How about you meet us here tomorrow at the same time?” “Ok, see you then!” I wiped sweat from my face. “Make sure to eat plenty of food today and get lots of sleep. You don’t want to waste those gains!” Then Tony reached into his duffle bag and pulled out some pills. “Oh, and take these supplements, they will help you recover from the brutal workout today. We want you nice and rested for the torture we’re going to put you through tomorrow! Haha!” I laughed nervously with him. “See you tomorrow, Josh!” said Terrell, patting me on my bubble butt while he and Tony waddled out of the gym. I was stunned. I felt so lucky that those two muscle daddies trained me. And they were going to train me again! I eagerly popped the pills that they gave me and washed them down with water. I went home, ate a ton, and then went to bed early, dreaming of those two muscle daddies. Part 2 The next day I bolted out of work and ran straight to the gym. As soon as I walked in the door, I saw Tony and Terrell standing at the front desk, looking massive. I got hard instantly. I hoped I could make it through the workout without embarrassing myself. They smiled and waved at me. “Ready for your next training session?” Terrell asked while putting his meaty hand on my shoulder. My dick twitched from his touch. “Yeah, I’ve been looking forward to it!” “Good! And it looks like you kept that chest pump from yesterday!” Tony beamed as he put his hand on my pecs. My dick twitched again. I was in heaven. Terrell handed me some more pills and a bottle of liquid. “Before we begin, take these supplements and pre-workout. They’ll help you get a better workout and pump.” I happily swallowed the pills and washed them down with the drink. I could feel my body already getting pumped. “Good boy,” he said while patting me on my ass. We made our way to gym floor and started my training session. They stood on either side of me as I lifted, correcting my form as I went. Once again, their deep voices lulled me into a trance, my mind focusing only on lifting weight. I could feel my muscles swelling as the weight and intensity increased. Before I knew it, I had finished the session. My back and biceps were on fire. “Great job, Josh! Your back is looking yoked!” exclaimed Tony from behind me while putting his hands all over my back. He moved closer and I could feel a bulge press slightly into my backside. “Fuck, man, your guns are looking big!” cried Terrell from the front. “Let’s see them. Give us a double bi!” Hesitantly, I raised both my arms and flexed. They had never felt so swollen before. His eyes lit up as he moved closer to feel them. “Thatta boy!” he said squeezing my arms while gently pressing his pecs and bulge into me. I waivered and felt like I was about to pass out. “Easy there, Josh! You ok?” Terrell released my arms and held me by my waist. “Yeah, just a little wiped out from the workout.” I wiped the pouring sweat from my forehead. “Looks like you need to eat. Wanna grab a bite to eat with us?” Tony asked. “Uh, sure,” I replied, still unsteady from the intense workout. “I gotta shower first, though.” “No problem. We’ll wait for you by the front desk.” He patted me on my ass as I headed to the locker room. I quickly showered and got dressed. I was half expecting them to be gone when I came out, but there they were, still looking massive. I couldn’t believe my luck. We headed down the block to a small restaurant and found a booth to sit in. I sat on one side where Terrell joined me. Tony sat across from us. Both guys were so big, they couldn’t fit on one side together. Even with my much smaller build, Terrell still crowded me as his large arms sat against mine. My dick pitched a tent in my pants. After we perused the menu, the waiter came over and his eyes widened as he looked at Tony and Terrell. I could see his dick move in his pants. “Um, what’ll you guys have?” Looking at the menu, Terrell ordered. “I’ll have the whole chicken, two orders of rice, and two orders of steamed broccoli.” I gulped at the thought of eating that much food in one sitting. Tony chimed in, “Yeah, I’ll have the same.” “Wow, you guys are hungry!” the waiter marveled. “Well, you gotta eat to get big,” boasted Tony as he flexed a bicep. The waiter balked at the size of Tony’s arm. Then the waiter turned to look at me. “Um, I guess I’ll have…” Terrell interrupted. “Why don’t you start him out with half of what we ordered, and we’ll go from there.” I looked stunned. Why did he order for me? “All right, I’ll bring it out when it’s ready!” He turned and went to the kitchen, adjusting his pants along the way. I was about to speak up, when Terrell turned to me, his big, brown eyes boring a hole through me as he spoke. “I didn’t want you to lose any of the gains you made today, so I ordered you the best and healthiest option here. I hope you don’t mind?” All resistance faded in me as he said that. “I don’t mind. You know what’s best for building muscle,” I acquiesced. He smiled and patted my leg. “Good boy.” Tony rested his elbows on the table and leaned in, his arms flexing as he did so. “You did great today Josh. We think you have the potential to get big. That is, if you want to.” “Yeah, I do. I’ve always wanted to be big. But I’ve never been able to grow past a certain point.” “We can help you if you like. We’ve been looking for a boy to train and you have the determination, seriousness, and looks that we require. Would you like us to train you?” His arms flexed some more. My cock hardened and shifted in my pants. “Yeah, I’d love that, but I can’t afford trainers right now. I’m just a barista at a coffee shop!” They both laughed. “No, we don’t want your money! But, there are some things we would require from you.” The muscles on his big arms rippled, from his forearms to the top of his delts. I got a little lightheaded. “Like what?” I was excited about the prospect of training with them all the time and getting bigger. Terrell chimed in. “Well, you would have to do everything that we tell you to do. But, you’ve already proven that you can take direction, so that’s good.” He squeezed my leg with his hand, grazing the hardon in my pants as he did so. “And we would need to monitor your bodybuilding progress closely. Like making sure you eat and sleep enough, that you’re taking the right supplements, and taking proper care of your body.” I got even harder hearing Terrell say those words. I had always wanted someone to train me and make me bigger. “So that would require you moving in with us. We have a large brownstone where you would have your own room and privacy. It’s not that far from here.” My mouth dropped open. They wanted me to move in with them? I just met them yesterday! “Um, wow, that’s a lot to take in. I don’t know…” Tony reached under the table and grabbed my leg. “You can think about it. But we would pay for everything: room and board, food, and supplements. All you have to do is workout, cook and prep food, and grow. You wouldn’t have to work. We just want to make sure you grow as big as possible.” They were both looking at me and I didn’t know what to say. Could I just uproot my life and move in with these guys? But the idea was awfully tempting. I hated my job, I lived in a crappy apartment with a lousy roommate, and I always wanted to be big. Plus, I would get to spend time with two incredibly hot muscle daddies! “You know what, that actually sounds great to me. I’ll do it!” They both cheered. “Perfect, we can head over to our place right after we eat!” Terrell said just as the food arrived. We all dug in and happily devoured our meals. Part 3 is below
  14. GrowManGrow

    m/m My Arms

    If this type of story is your cup of tea, please consider subscribing to my GrowManGrow Patreon page for more like it: https://www.patreon.com/growmangrow 10 inches God, I hate my arms. Let me explain. I inherited a good height from my dad (I’m 6’2”), but none of his bulk. Instead, I got a fast metabolism and a super-skinny frame from my mom, and as a result only weigh about 130 pounds soaking wet. Most of this thinness can be covered up with the right clothes, but not at work. I have a job as an Assistant Manager at a fast-food burger restaurant, Big & Beefy, and we have to wear short-sleeve polo shirts as a part of the uniform. My long skinny arms stick right out of those sleeves for the whole world to see every day. Even when wearing a size small shirt, my arms comes nowhere near to filling up those sleeves. And worse than being skinny, my arms are weak. Really weak. I can barely turn over the fry baskets when they’re full…it’s a real struggle with these twigs attached to my shoulders. I watch some of the female employees do it with ease and wonder how much stronger than me they must be. So yeah, like I said. I hate my arms. 12 inches OK, so 6 months ago a gym opened on the ground floor of my apartment building. It’s a new chain so they were offering a discount, so I signed up. I had tried working out a few years back, but I didn’t make any gains and gave up. I’m not sure what’s different this time, but I have made a little progress. Maybe my metabolism is finally slowing down now that I’m 26? Who knows, but I’ll take it. I’m up to 145 pounds and my arms have grown from 10 inches around to 12 inches. They don’t have any real shape yet, but at least there not so terribly small anymore. And I lifted a very full fry basket the other day and didn’t even have to grunt, so I know I’m getting stronger, too. 14 inches I feel SOOOOO much better about myself since I started working out 9 months ago. I’m up to 160 pounds and have 14-inch arms, and my overall appearance has improved. One of my co-workers said I no longer appeared sickly, which is the only positive comment I’ve had about my looks in years. My size small shirts have been getting really tight lately, so I’m just about ready to move up to mediums. I think two things have really helped: first, I’m eating a lot more than I used to. I’m not sure how many calories I’m ingesting, but it must be somewhere around 6,000 per day. We get all the free burgers we want at work, and I’ve been stuffing myself with them all day long. You gotta eat big to get big, right? I’m not sure about my training, however. I’ve been following this routine I got off the internet, but I think I may hire myself a trainer from the gym to see if I can take things up another notch. 16 inches Big news – and lots of it! Thanks to the advice from my trainer, Miguel, I’ve managed to add another 2 inches to my arms in the last few months. He’s really helped me blow up my triceps and add some decent mass – not just on my arms, but all over. I’m at 190 pounds now which may feel about average for a 6’2” guy, but remember I started way back at 130. So to me, I feel like the Hulk! Also, and maybe I’m burying the lede here, but I had SEX! Yes, for the first time in what feels like forever, I was able to satisfy my carnal desires with another person. Her name is Abigail, and she’s a customer at the burger restaurant. She’d been getting very touchy and flirty, and last week when I was working late, she showed up as I was leaving Big & Beefy and asked I could walk her home since she felt so safe with a “big, strong guy.” Abigail had plenty to say about my body as we walked – she liked my firm pecs, which were about to split through my size medium shirt, and she liked how thick my quads looked in my tight chinos, but she absolutely LOVED my arms. She kept running her fingers up and down the veins and saying how sexy they were, and that really got me hot and bothered. I was already hard by the time we got to her door, and a few minutes later we were fucking like bunnies. This is the kind of thing that is only gonna make me work harder in the gym. 18 inches Miguel cannot believe how big I’ve gotten in such a short time. I’m up to 220 pounds of solid muscle, and my arms now stretch the tape to 18 fuckin’ inches! It’s not just the size, but the shape of my arms that’s impressive – they honestly look like those in the bodybuilding mags. I’ve got a decent peak on the biceps, a well-formed horseshoe shape on my triceps, and great definition between the muscles. And they’re not just for show – Miguel’s workout routine has made me so much stronger, too. Right now I’m curling 200 pounds for reps, which feels insane because I used to struggle with those 5-pound fry baskets just over a year ago. The other guys in the gym are always stopping and watching when I lift my overloaded barbells, and I know some of them are either dying to ask me how I got so big, dying to give my arm a squeeze, or dying to get me in bed and see the rest of my body. They’re definitely noticing at the restaurant, too – both guests and other employees. Everyone is talking about how huge I’m getting, and Abigail has some tough competition for my bedroom time – there’s also Courtney, Selena, and Chet. Yeah, that last one’s a guy, but he gives the BEST blowjobs I’ve ever had. 20 inches I tell you, I’m turning into a fuckin’ monster of muscle. My arms are now 20 inches around at their peak, fully twice the size as when I started lifting. I’m up to 250 pounds and also grew an inch to 6’3” (maybe my body needed more room to accommodate all the fresh beef?). I’m way bigger than Miguel now – I passed his stats about a month ago, and after watching him lick his lips as he stared at me in the gym shower, we decided to give the other members an eyeful when I full-on fucked him with my super cock. God can that man really take it up the ass better than all my other lovers. In other news, I left my job at Big & Beefy. I was getting too large to fit behind the counter, and I’d already blasted through the largest size shirt they had (ironic for a place called Big & Beefy, right?). So now I’m looking for a new gig to support myself and a new source of the 8,000 calories a day I need to keep growing. 22 inches I got a surprise the other day: a text from the owner of Big & Beefy. He asked to meet, so I Uber-ed up to his home in the swankier side of town. Apparently, business has dropped off since I left the restaurant, as there were a lot of guests who came in just to see the hunky Assistant Manager. I told him that I didn’t think coming back to work would be a good fit, and he agreed – and that’s not why he asked to meet. He said he was looking for someone to be the face (and body) for Big & Beefy since he’s about the rebrand the concept, and he thought I would be the perfect model. I was flattered when he asked, and even more flattered when he showed me the agreement and told me how much I would be paid – for a few hours work, I was going to earn more than I had at the restaurant in the past two years. I immediately said yes. I guess I should have tried to be humble and say something like “I cannot believe you think I would be a good Big & Beefy man,” but hell, I am perfect for the job! I just passed 275 pounds and got my arms up to 22 inches. I go sleeveless all the time now – not because I cannot find shirts that fit (I can, but it ain’t easy), but because I want the world ogling my pythons wherever I go. I love every minute I spend in the gym blasting them with weight, making them grow and grow and grow. I’ve also shaved off all my body hair so that nothing distracts from the glory of my muscles, and on the advice of one of my lovers (Selena), I shaved the hair on top of my head and cut off my scraggly beard. She works as a stylist and thought I would look a lot tougher with a cleanshaven head, and she was right – I look like a fuckin’ bull now. Oh, and the restaurant owner, Nick – he not only liked how looked for professional reasons, but also for personal ones. At the end of the meeting at his house, he was trying desperately to hide his boner, but it was really sticking out in his slacks. He’s not my usual type – a bit older and kinda flabby – but I walked right up to him, shoved my flexed right arm in his face, and told him I could tell he wanted me as more than just a model. Nick didn’t even hesitate a second before his hands and tongue were all over my arm – I guess it must have been a while since he had sex, too, or maybe he just really was into me. We ended up spending the rest of the day together either in his bed or in the kitchen chowing down on everything in his fridge. 24 inches Today’s the day of the photo shoot for Big & Beefy, and I am more than living up to my end of the bargain. Just last week I got my weight up past 300, and my arms are now 24 fuckin’ inches around. Truly insane. Yeah, my chest is 70 inches, and my quads have gotten up to 35 inches, but everyone always notices my arms first. It probably doesn’t hurt that I am constantly flexing them and showing them off. They’re just so MASSIVE – not even Arnold in his prime had bigger or stronger arms than me. I was given a 4XL Big & Beefy shirt to wear for the shoot, and it was so snug I could barely get it on. We did some shots of me eating, and then working out. It was funny – they thought they had brought enough plates for the barbell to challenge me, but they were about 75 pounds too light, so one of the production assistants had to run and buy more weight. I ended up curling 300 pounds over and over again for the different shots, and by the end my pythons were so fuckin’ pumped with blood – they must have been closer to 25 inches. The director then took some video of me flexing and damn if my muscles didn’t just rip right through the sleeves while he was filming. It was so HOT and the production team was thrilled with the footage they got. Nick was thrilled, too. He was watching the shoot in the studio but had to excuse himself to the bathroom three times during the day to…well, you know. When we got back home, I fucked him twice and listened to him tell me over and over what a beast I was. Oh, and yes, I moved in with Nick. I made it clear to him that we were just fuck buddies and not boyfriends, and that was fine with him. He set me up my own bedroom, installed a gym in the basement, and even added a full-size pool for me in the backyard. His personal chef makes me whatever food I want, and his personal tailor takes care of all my clothes. All day long I get to eat, lift, and fuck whoever I want. 26 inches The new branding campaign started for Big & Beefy, and it’s been a HUGE success. My face and body are plastered on billboards and posters all over the city, and the restaurants have been packed with customers. Nick told me last night that things are going so well he’s going to take the company public and make himself an even bigger fortune not only for himself, but he plans to share 50% with me. I may use the money to get my own place, but who knows, I’m pretty comfortable right living here and may just stay put. In addition to giving me anything I want, Nick is also a very giving lover…he is happy to pleasure every inch of me for hours on end without expecting anything in return (but he definitely likes getting fucked while holding on to my arms). The only thing that won’t stay put is my size – I’m still growing larger. I’m at 330 pounds of beef and my arms – my truly spectacular arms – are now a mind-boggling 26 inches around. You have to see ‘em to believe ‘em. 26 inches is roughly the circumference of a volleyball, if that helps you picture them. But mine aren’t just shapeless globes – they’re thickly corded with rock-hard muscle, covered with giant veins, and make me look strong enough to lift a car (I haven’t tried yet, but I am willing to try!). My whole body is huge, but nothing makes me feel more like a fuckin’ stud, and nothing else gets the same amount of attention, than my arms. In fact, I got offered $1,000 by a guy at the beach last night just to touch them, but I made him pay me two grand instead (well, I let him suck my cock in the cabana as well). Turns out he was some tech guru and ended up giving me $20K to spend the whole night, which I of course accepted. Also, Miguel still comes over every so often for worship session – I don’t charge him for his tickets to the gun show, since he helped me more than anyone to reach this immense size, and he knows my body so well and makes me cum gallons more than anyone else. Ok, enough writing for now. I gotta get into the gym for another workout. It’s arm day again – to be fair, that’s pretty much every day for me. I’m gonna blast them hard and see if I can pump them up to 27 or 28 inches. Nick’s bringing a friend home tonight and I want to impress them both with the biggest arms in the world. God, I love my arms.
  15. londonboy

    m/m Thick, Thicker, Thickest

    “You did that on purpose.” “Did what.” “You intentionally bumped into those two guys and sent them flying to the floor.” “What? Why would I do that?” “Because you saw them messing with me over at the dumbbells rack. You wanted to get back at them for giving me grief.” He smiled. The grin did not make him less intimidating. He still looked like a freaking mass of muscle . . . but with a smile. Dirk was massive. There was just no other word to describe him. His traps were a lot bigger than my entire shoulders. His delts looked like bowling balls had grown under his skin. His pecs ballooned out like two mammoth blimps flying side by side. And the dude’s biceps looked like two whole giant beef shanks hanging in the butcher shop. His balding head matched all the humongous shiny bulges everywhere else on his body. And the trimmed reddish-brown full beard and mustache gave him a dangerous Viking look. But it was his massive muscles – freakishly swollen by intense lifting – that a person always noticed first . . . whether he was fully clothed or jut wearing shorts rolled up his giant thighs, like now. “Did you see how they bounced off me like they’d been hit by a Mack truck.” “They were hit by something much more powerful than a Mack truck, dude.” Dirk’s grin got bigger. It pleased him when I talked about his body, his size, or his muscles. If I continued to talk about him – more than just a passing comment – he’d start getting excited and the bulge at his crotch would grow massive, too. Dirk was a size queen when it came to his own body. Bigger was definitely better. He loved talking about his muscles . . . but he loved it even more when someone else talked about them. And don’t get me started about the indecent boners that would sprout up any time someone asked to feel his arms or his chest. The dude was a walking carnival act – screaming for attention. We’d been late for so many restaurant reservations because he’d have to be a muscle goodwill ambassador doling out flexes and offering groping sessions on the street. I started telling him our dinner time was forty-five minutes earlier than it really was, just to accommodate him making someone’s night by posing at a stoplight. Walking in town with him was like walking with the Hulk. Even though he wasn’t green, people stared as if he were. Who could blame them, though . . . like I said, the guy was freaking massive. “No one messes with you . . . ever. That’s just the way it is. They should be happy that I didn’t get really mad. I think their heads are still spinning from smacking into me, though, and that makes me happy. They sure skedaddled out of the gym quickly after being introduced to my non-moving mass.” Dirk was now looking at himself in the large mirror along the opposite wall of the locker room. I could tell he was getting himself a little juiced from staring at his own body. He tensed his rock-hard stomach and mounds of abs muscles burst through his skin. He then shook out his quads and flexed them afterwards, causing a convoluted roadmap of veins to instantly appear. It looked like highways traveling over mountains and through valleys. The orange-sized head of his dick started pushing against his black shorts and I instantly knew that big Dirk was horny. This typically happened after a workout, but the definitely one-sided altercation with the two bullies had made his pump even more orgasmic than usual. “I need to be thicker.” “What? Are you crazy, man?” “I want to be thicker . . . much thicker.” “Most double-wide trailers are thinner than you, Dirk!” It was clearly an exaggeration, but my comment made him smile, again. Dirk’s chest was about fifty-eight inches thick. He was the thickest man I knew. He had just sent two big grown man flying to their butts because of his dense body – but it wasn’t enough. Dirk knew of bodybuilders who had chests that measured over sixty inches. He wanted to be thicker than that. But he didn’t just want a thick chest. He wanted every part of his body to be intensely thick. He wanted to be a tank of a man – unstoppable and immovable. It’s what he talked about all the time. “Thicker is better. The thickest would be best.” I imagined his chest ballooning out even more. I envisioned arms that were so swollen they dangled at a forty-five degree angle – biceps too huge to let his limbs rest by his side. I thought about a neck as thick as an oak tree. I longed for a stomach with abs so enlarged they were like speedbumps made from asphalt. I wondered about legs so thick they could be columns holding up a balcony in a palace. I dreamed of Dirk so massive the ground shook when he walked. Speeding cars would be totaled if they hit him and he wouldn’t even have a scratch. I contemplated sharing these ideas with Dirk, but the intense activity already happening at his crotch told me it wasn’t a good idea. His long thick dong had flopped out of his shorts before, just because he got too excited. “Dude, if you become any thicker I don’t think you’ll be able to move. I have to help you with your shirts, as it is.” “I’m as flexible as shit, man, and you know it.” To prove his point, Dirk bent over and put his head between his wide-as-shit calves. His upper back exploded wide with mounds of muscles popping out everywhere. I was bummed that I couldn’t see his round, firm, bubble butt from where I stood. It was truly amazing that this hulk of a man was able to bend like that. He flexed his arms while he was upside down and I saw how massive his triceps had become. He swung his body back up with ease and grinned at me. His arms were still flexed and the peaks of the biceps competed with his bald head for being the highest thing around. “I just have trouble with my shirts because I like them tight as hell, hugging all my massive muscles.” “Truer words have never been spoken.” “Gut punches. Now.” “Come on, dude, can’t we give my poor fingers a break for a change?” “Nope. I pretend they’re bullets and I’m not feeling a thing.” It was a post workout routine. No matter what. I always complained, but we both knew I loved it as much as he did. Hitting his abs felt like hitting rounded bricks. They weren’t just hard – they were solid, like the way a building is solid. I had a feeling Dirk wouldn’t have felt an aluminum bat slamming into his stomach, but we hadn’t advanced to that level, yet. I stepped in front of him and sent both of my fists slamming into his stomach with a loud smack. I knew Dirk got off on the double gut punch. It was the loud whack sound of my knuckles hitting his tight, unyielding muscled abs that got him excited the most. It would take a few minutes for the stinging pain to leave my fingers and wrists, but we both loved watching his chiseled tummy repelling my hardest punches. I pulled my hands back and moved my fingers around like I was playing an ‘air’ piano – trying to flick out the pain. “I’ve got a concrete wall of a stomach, man,” Dirk said, looking down at the red marks left by my fists. “And it’s only going to get thicker and harder.” “Well, my punching days are almost over, then, big man,” I said in reply. “I’m not breaking fingers just to give you a little rush” Dirk barely heard anything I was saying. He was too busy looking at himself in the mirror and running his left hand up and down his rock had stomach. He smacked his palm against his abs and a loud wallop echoed throughout the locker room. I saw a red outline of his fingers left on his stomach and I knew the slap had been intense. It was perfectly clear that my punches weren’t felt, at all, and he needed his own powerful hands to make his abs respond in any way. There was a guy about seven lockers away who clearly got a little scared of the hulking muscleman beating his own abs, for he gathered his bag and clothes and went around the corner to find another place to change. “You’re scaring the other patrons,” I said, chuckling to myself. “Good,” responded Dirk, as he tensed his eye-popping, massive pecs. His mammoth chest was gorgeous. Two rounded concrete pillows of muscles. When he showered, water dripped off of his nipples hitting the floor below, since the nubs pointed straight down because of the hefty massiveness of his pecs. There wasn’t a shirt in the world that could hide those huge puppies. Dirk usually left three or four buttons undone – to show off his enormous man-tits, but mainly because he couldn’t have clasped them shut even if he wanted to. Dirk believed a man’s chest was a key indicator of his power. He thought pecs should make it instantly clear how strong a dude was. He always said if the person you’re talking to doesn’t move their gaze down to your chest within the first fifteen seconds, then you weren’t big enough. People talking to Dirk didn’t waste three seconds before their eyes traveled down to his massive mounds of muscle. Hell, some people actually never looked him in the face – their stare stayed glued to his pecs. I found myself having to adjust my crotch any time he decided to bounce his pecs for his own or someone else’s enjoyment. “Gonna put another inch on this chest in the coming month, dude.” It was a statement of fact. It was Dirk telling his body an order. It was the kind of self-inspiration that had turned the guy into the hulk that he was. Like a true alpha, he told his muscles what to do. The words ‘try,’ ‘hope,’ or ‘might’ were never used by Dirk. If he ever began to strain on a lift of some kind . . . like when he was curling a dumbbell . . . he’d look down at his biceps and bark out an order. He’d say something like ‘Come on you fucking puny arm – be a big man and lift.’ And every time, whatever body part he was ordering around would listen and respond immediately. He was a general and his muscles were the platoon he commanded. And his army of bulges never disobeyed an order. Lifting heavy weights definitely made Dirk big, but I believed it was more about how he intimidated his own muscles into growth. I’d seen him growl at his own biceps before and I swear the thing expanded a little simply out of fear. He did the same thing when he was coaching me through a set. He’d boss my much smaller muscles around like they were minions doing his bidding. I had definitely grown, so it clearly worked. Dirk was obviously now working himself into a little lust-filled moment – staring at his own body always really turned him on. “Jacked today, bro. Feeling it more than usual. Taking care of bullies without even raising an arm gets me so stoked. They felt like tiny insects bouncing off of me. Loved watching how my hard pecs didn’t give at all when they smashed into them. Fucking A, I’m loving how swole I feel.” I knew better than to interrupt his self-adoration. When Dirk got to talking about his own muscles, there was very little that could change his focus. He just needed a few minutes to get a ‘muscle high’ from staring at his own body. Who could blame him? I did, however, know I was supposed to stop him if he started to get indecent – with what he was saying or in regards to how big he let himself get below the belt. It was always important to stop him before there was any kind of wardrobe malfunction and he ended up sprouting major wood way beyond the waistband of his pants or out through the legs. Also, Dirk had a tendency to squirt more thick pre than most guys did when they had a full blown orgasm. He was just a walking cum machine – definitely due to the size of his muscles. I, of course, got off on listening to Dirk talk about his own body. It was one of the hottest things I had ever heard or seen. He simply lusted after his own hugeness more than anything else. And, for me, that was like the best foreplay, ever! I had to force myself to encourage him to stop when he was getting close to losing control. It was like when he flexed to intimidate some guy – he lost all ability to maintain his composure. He’d growl loudly, and throw his body into mind-blowing pose after pose – scaring dudes until they pissed themselves or emptied a big load into their undies. I, myself, had come close to losing control many times when he was Hulking out in front of someone – and I wasn’t even gay, just really into muscle. “I’m going to be the thickest freak to ever walk the planet, man. I’m going to be scarier than a charging elephant. I’m going to be like a bulldozer plowing through a flimsy, little wall. I’m going to be a tsunami of muscle blasting up against a coast. I’m going to be massive.” He tensed every possible muscle in his body one by one as he spoke. It was like watching a multi-ringed muscle circus with several acts performing at one time. My gaze had to dart around to try and catch the full show. However, I also quickly noticed the show at his crotch was growing bigger and bigger by the second. Dirk was loving his own words and his own posing even more than me. I knew the circus was going to turn very pornographic if I didn’t quickly figure out how to stop him. I knew the perfect way to change Dirk’s focus. “Dude, your traps are looking a little small, today. Don’t you think?” The tensing of muscles stopped. The discourse about his own body and what it felt like ceased immediately. The big man’s gaze zoomed instantly on his trapezius muscles – flexing only them. The things were humongous – much bigger and thicker than my entire shoulders – but desperate times called for desperate measures. I needed to stop him before he turned the locker room into a bathhouse – full of nudity and the smell of semen. Dirk’s neck, traps, and delts ballooned into something that looked like they had been morphed. He had traps for days and they were more powerful looking and bigger than any I had ever seen, but the guy couldn’t stand the thought of part of him looking small or weak. It was his greatest fear. It was his constant worry. I had succeeded in pulling him away from the intense explosion his self-worship was heading for. After he looked at his own gigantic traps for a few seconds, he turned his eyes on me and a knowing smile crept across his face. “Thanks, buddy. I was losing control, again, wasn’t I?” “Just a little, Dirk. I needed to figure out a way to bring you back to the moment. Your traps are looking more powerful than ever, dude. Not to worry.” “I just get so lost in my own muscle, dude. It’s like I go into another world when I watch myself flexing.” “Who can blame you? If I had a body like that, I’d be flexing it non-stop.” “You have a fine body, bud.” “Thanks, but it’s like comparing titanium to cheap plastic when you’re standing beside me, big guy.” “Oh fuck, I feel as tough as titanium . . . that’s for sure.” “Watch it, there, tiger. You’re going to go down that muscle rabbit hole, again. Stay focused on the here and now. Let’s not get thrown out of another gym for indecent behavior . . . although I think they’d be scared to try and throw someone as big as you out.” “I can’t help it man. I just get lost in picturing what I’m going to become. I mean, I know I’m big, now, but I’m going to keep growing . . . keep getting thicker, heavier, dense as fuck. I want to be able to walk through walls and not even notice. I want to be too heavy for normal furniture. I want to sound like boulders rubbing together when I flex. I just got to get thicker . . . much thicker.” “How many pounds have you added in the last three months, Dirk?” “I don’t know . . . I guess about twenty.” “And all of that was hard muscle, dude. Freaking hard muscle. Imagine what you’re going to look like after a year.” “Aw fuck man, I’m imagining it and it’s hot as hell. I’m just going to have to stop buying clothes because I’m going to grow out of them every two or three months. I’m a freaking muscle growing machine, dude . . . and I just can’t stop. Speaking of parts of me growing . . . when are you going to let me tap that fucking hot ass of yours, man.” “Dude, you know I’m not into guys.’ “Well, you certainly seem like you’re into me.” “That’s because of all the huge muscles, man. I’m definitely into muscle. Who wouldn’t be into a thick, massive body like yours?” We both looked down at his chest, arms, and abs – like we needed proof of his hugeness or something. We were both lost in intense muscle admiration for a few seconds. It was almost like we were seeing the huge bulges for the first time. He wasn’t even flexing, but every part of his body was bulging hard. Just standing there he looked jacked beyond belief. I could tell he was on the verge of getting lost in his gorgeous body again. I wondered if I needed to head him off before he went down that path. To my surprise, he brought himself back. It seemed he had something else on his mind. “I could pound you so good, man. These muscles make me a fucking pounding machine – guaranteed to satisfy. I could just take you and have my way with you, you know. How would you stop me. Picking you up and turning your body any which way I wanted to – that would be hot. You’d definitely feel all my thickness as I plugged you, dude.” “Sorry, man. I’m into muscle and not dick. I’m along for the ride for making you grow bigger because it’s going to be awesome seeing just how huge you get. I’ll be your coach and your biggest cheerleader, but I don’t want to be your boy toy. Besides, you go through boys like you go through toothpaste – you squeeze all the freaking juice you can out of them and then discard them like trash. I like my bedmates to be soft and round – not bulging out of this world and hard as concrete.” “I could show you something definitely harder than concrete, buddy. Once you go jacked you never go back. Forget the ladies, man, I can take you to muscle heaven.” The fire hydrant in his shorts was quickly moving to full mast. This was a typical conversation after one of his intense workouts. He always got super horny and talked about his lust for me. As hot as his body was and as hot as it sounded when he talked about how much he wanted me, I was just not into guys – even monstrous guys. I just adored his huge muscles and watching him grow. I was also a little scared of what his giant body, not to mention his giant tool, would do to me in bed. He probably weighed more than an SUV loaded down with concrete and I got the feeling his thrusting power would be like a wrecking ball coming through the side of a building. He was now staring at me like he was a giant lion and I was a little gazelle he’d cornered and there was no escape. The lust in his eyes was definitely flattering, but the way he balled up his fist and tensed his arms was a little nerve-wracking – like it was taking every ounce of his incredible strength to keep from pouncing on me. “Um . . . Dirk . . . it’s me . . . remember? The one you just recently promised to protect . . . to make sure no one messes with me.” “Oh sorry, dude, I was just lost in my thoughts about smashing that body of yours against the wall as I lifted you off the ground with my thick, massive, hard-as-hell cock. I’d love to dump my cream filling into that hot little body of yours. My big battering rod would thrust into you like a girder supporting an entire skyscraper. Feeling you bob up and down as I flexed my huge dong supporting all of your weight. Oh man, plowing you so hard and hearing you moaning for me to slam you harder, deeper – with my muscles flattening you as I bang with all the power I can. Fuck, I want you so much, buddy.” “Dirk, man! Snap out of it. There’s no way I’m letting you get that third leg of yours anywhere near my ass. Dude! Calm the fuck down. Go take a cold shower or something. You’re scaring me. Remember, you get this way post workout!” I saw reality seep back into his eyes. He kept his fists clenched and his muscles tensed, but I could tell he was coming down off of his testosterone high . . . his adrenaline rush . . . induced by lifting heavy weights. It reminded me of when the Hulk would change back into Bruce Banner, but Dirk didn’t get smaller when he calmed down – he stayed jacked beyond belief. Finally, bulges relaxed and he released his fingers – looking a little less scary than he had before. The fire hydrant stayed fully engorged, however, so I knew he wasn’t completely back to earth. He could still be sent back into orgasmic ecstasy by nothing more than a soft breeze or a casual compliment on how thick he was looking. “Damn, bud. Forgive me. I just need sex . . . all the time . . . but especially after a good workout. My best cardio is fucking pretty, young, super tight things. I love to flex while I’m plowing, so I can watch my muscles grow. You sure you don’t want to take a walk on the wild side with a fucking huge, thick gorilla, man?” “I’m sure, Dirk. I’m flattered that you fancy me . . . but I’m not interested in being flattened like a pancake by your massive body. I like being the dominant one in my relationships and your alpha-ness is off the charts. I wouldn’t stand a chance in any kind of competition against you. Your pecs, alone, have more muscle than my entire body. And you like to curl the amount of weight I’m benching. I think I’ll stick to smaller bodies of the female persuasion, if you don’t mind.” “Suit yourself, dude, but you have no idea what you’re missing out on. I could carry you around all day as you rode my big thick tool. Just thinking about it makes me feel thicker . . . heavier . . . like the room should shake when I walk. Aw, dude, I’m going to go crazy if I don’t plow something, soon.” “How about that new guy you have the hots for . . . you know the one you met the other night.” “Oh hell yeah . . . that fitness model. The one we listened to as he talked about how huge he was and acted all cocky with that group of admirers. Then, I walked up behind him and the looks on the faces of his entourage told the dude something freaky was standing behind him . . . that, and the fact that I blocked out so much light. That tight-as-hell tank didn’t hide a thing, did it? When he turned around, you could have pushed him over with a feather – that’s how astounded he was. He was frozen, like a statue . . . in total shock. Oh fuck, just thinking about how he thought he was so freaking huge until he got a gander at true massiveness. If he had been a puppy, he would have had his tail between his legs – all scared of this alpha. Speaking of tails, that guy has one of the hottest asses I’ve ever seen. Firm, protruding, gorgeous ass cheeks that were made for plowing. He’s exactly what the doctor ordered for my afternoon. I think it’s time that little fitness model found out what a true massive alpha is really like. That was a good idea, buddy. Let’s text him right now to see what he’s up to. I have a feeling he’ll cancel any plans the moment I invite him to drop by. Boy howdy, big Dirk is going to get some tight ass!” I knew, right away, that I had narrowly avoided being slammed between the mattress and Dirk’s big body, yet again. It was always touch and go for a few minutes after every workout. I never knew if I was going to be forced into something I really didn’t want to do – but I knew there’d be no way to stop Dirk. He was just too massive. The dude’s huge fingers were having trouble punching the text into his phone. He often had me do it for him. Mainly because he’d crushed a few expensive smart phones in frustration. This was a long text, which made me think Dirk was being a little subtle – for a change. Usually, when he was needing sex, he’d message a guy saying, “My cock needs to plow you. 8pm, my house” or “Your ass stuffed with my big rod. Now.” The big guy was always short and to the point and he was never turned down. I was beginning to think I was the only dude that had actually told him no. This text, however, was longer and he was kind of mumbling what he was typing. “Hey handsome. Thought you might like to see me in just my posers. Just finished a three hour workout. I could flex all my humongous bulges for you. You could grope for a little foreplay. I’ve also got enough bottles of wine to get us to the point where we don’t care what happens next. Available?” “You’re such a fucking romantic, Dirk.” “Hey, don’t tease me. I promised wine, didn’t I?” The phone made a noise. The fitness model was already responding – as if he had been sitting there waiting for Dirk’s text. The big man’s face lit up and his arms tensed a little as he read the response. I could tell the model was saying yes, because Dirk’s shorts bounced joyously at the crotch. He clearly wanted to share the response. “Available and my toothbrush is already packed. Send address details. I could come now.” “Well, it’s clear Dirk-man is getting some handsome ass, tonight. I’m happy for you big man.” “It doesn’t really matter if they’re good looking, bud, since their face will be plastered into the pillow the entire time. It does matter, however, if they are tight as fuck and able to take my intense pounding. This guy was built – I think he’ll be able to take me being a little rough.” “A little rough to you, man, is like a bulldozer plowing through and flattening a little wooden shack. Just don’t break him.” “Ha! I’ll try not to. You sure you don’t want to come over and join us. I could use you as back up for when he’s too tired for another round. Trust me, I could get you used to the gay life, dude. I could make you never look at another woman. Come on, let me pop your cherry.” His mega-hard, bulging pecs had pushed me against the row of lockers behind me. The even harder head of his raging hard-on was pressing into my lower stomach, like the barrel of some rocket launcher. He placed his hands on the lockers beside my head, so I was completely surrounded by vein-covered muscles – bulging with power. For a split second, I let the musky stench of him envelop me – along with the intense heat he was radiating. My mind drifted to what it must be like to be held by his humongous arms and squeezed by all his strength. I quickly shook my head and snapped out of my muscle trance. Lately, this had been happening a lot – me contemplating Dirk having his way with me. I could tell that Dirk sensed my temporary thoughts – like how a big animal can sense fear in its prey. I placed my hands on his chest and pushed. He didn’t budge, but he did chuckle at my feeble attempt. He leaned in closer, his chest smashing into my body even harder. He brought his mouth to the side of my head. “You’re waiting until I’m even thicker aren’t you, bud? You want me to be at my thickest when you finally give into me. You want it to feel like a mountain has been placed on top of you when we share a bed, don’t you? I’m going to be massive . . . heavy as shit . . . and strong as fuck. You saying ‘no’ to me makes me grow, man. I could have my way with every man in the world, dude, but it wouldn’t matter. All of this hugeness is because of you. Don’t worry, I can wait. Waiting just fuels me on to pack on more dense muscle. Colossal Dirk will one day show you what you’ve been missing. But it will only be when you’re ready. In the meantime, I’ll just keep getting thicker. And no matter how many hot, stacked fitness models I pound, dude . . . know that none of them makes my muscles bulge the way you do. None of them makes my massive cock as hard as you do. None of them makes me want to be thicker . . . the way that you do. See you tomorrow, bud.” It was like the back end of a bus, which was pinning me to a wall, finally pulled away - as he stepped back. He was somehow jacked even more than he had been just seconds ago. Clearly, chatting that way to me made him tense even bigger. His excitement permeated every inch of the room. It was infectious, too. I wanted him. I wanted to feel his heavy, strong body pressing into me. I wanted to feel his cock poking into me like a spear. I wanted to feel his breath on my neck as he bent his head down to talk into my ear. It was insane. No other guy interested me, at all. I was into women and had been all my life. But the size of Dirk, the density of Dirk, the cockiness of Dirk, the power of Dirk – that was different. He was getting thicker every day. He was growing. He was becoming a freaky massive muscle monster and I knew – one day – I would finally offer myself to him. It would be an act of complete adoration to this muscle god. I watched as he grabbed his gym back and waddled away – not even stopping to put on a shirt and not even caring that his huge fire hydrant of a cock was making his shorts pop out like a circus big tent. I finally took a deep breath and counted to ten – begging myself to not explode.
  16. dangerdanger

    m/m Tomás [ESPAÑOL]

    UNO Conocí a Tomás durante las vacaciones de verano. Yo acababa de recibirme de profesor de Matemática y como el resto de mis amigos había tenido que ingeniármelas dando clases particulares. Por suerte para mi frágil economía el asunto resultó bastante bien y en poco tiempo, gracias a la ayuda del boca en boca y la suerte de encontrar al "Peor Curso de la Historia de la Humanidad", en poco tiempo me encontré dando clases particulares todos los días. Así que cada día visitaba una casa diferente donde encontraba los mismos chicos y chicas que no entendían nada de nada, que si les hablaba de ecuaciones podían llegar a decir que ellos no querían estudiar química y que si por casualidad se me ocurría preguntar que era lo que no entendían largaban respuestas del estilo: —De mitad de año en adelante nada. Así fue como una tarde particularmente calurosa conocí a Tomás. Su mamá me había contactado por recomendación de la mamá de un amigo de él. Tomás tenía diecisiete años y al parecer las matemáticas no eran su fuerte. Lo que primero me llamó la atención fue el tamaño de la casa. Mi padres no eran pobres, ni mucho menos. Tenían su departamento y su casa de fin de semana en el country, pero yo nunca había visto una casa de semejante tamaño en medio de la ciudad. ¡Ocupaba media cuadra! La madre le pidió a una de las mucamas (tenían mas de una) que me llevara al estudio del fondo y se fue ella misma a buscar a su hijo al segundo piso. Atravesamos la casa y salimos al jardín más grande que vi en mi vida. Tenían una pileta olímpica y una cancha de tenis que solo ocupaba menos de la tercera parte e todo. En pocas palabras: una mansión. La mucama me abrió la puerta del estudio y me pidió si me podía traer algo para tomar. Le pedí una limonada. Lo que sucedió después me resulta medio confuso ya que no estaba preparado. Había dado clases a chicos de esa edad y más grandes también. A mis treinta y cinco ahora me daba cuenta de los chico que había sido a mis veinticinco aunque yo en esa época no me daba cuenta. Quizás por eso no asocié lo que estaba viendo con nada más. Un hombre salió de la cancha de tenis después de hacer frontón durante un rato. Llevaba puesto solo un pantalón debajo del cual asomaban unas piernas enormes, largas y musculosas que se tensaban con cada paso que daba. Se podían ver la forma de los músculos con cada movimiento, así como la casi inexistencia de grasa. Eran unas piernas propias de un hombre... y que hombre. Por sobre el pantalón comenzaban los abdominales más grandes y perfecto que hubiera podido imaginar sobre los que sobresalía un pecho enorme y poderoso que brillaba con cada rayo de luz. Todo ese cuerpo de hombre era coronado por unos hombros del tamaño de melones de los que salían dos brazos más poderosos que había visto. Era un cuerpo que emanaba una fuerza impresionante. Una musculatura que parecía estar empujando por crecer todavía más. Se tiró al agua antes de que pudiera ver su cara. Nadó hasta el extremo cerca de donde yo estaba y solo con la fuerza de sus poderosos hombros se elevó hasta salir. Fue la muestra de lo que un hombre era capaz si se proponía crecer, volverse fuerte y solo eso: seguir creciendo. Se elevó en toda su increíble altura y pude ver el rostro de niño de diecisiete años. Agarró una toalla y se acarició apenas cada parte de su enorme y poderoso cuerpo. Todos sus músculos exhalaban juventud, fuerza y una potencia sexual de la que yo ni siquiera había tenido una pizca. Me tendió la mano. —Vos debés ser Diego. Su mano era enorme y fuerte. Sus dedos eran los dedos de un hombre desarrollado y poderoso. Tomó mi mano entre las suyas y al saludarnos pude ver el imposible bicep de su brazo marcándose con el menor movimiento. Yo estaba tan anonadado que un hombre pudiera ser tan joven y tan musculoso que no pude decir nada más que: —Si. Tomás me sacaba más de una cabeza de altura. Era un hombre joven y poderoso. Lo más parecido a un semental salvaje y brillante. La cercanía con sus músculos enormes brillando cerca de mí me hizo perder el hilo de la historia que me había estado contando. Se puso la toalla sobre el hombro y se fue a buscar una remera. Yo quise ser esa toalla.
  17. GrowManGrow

    m/m I See You

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

    m/m The Freshman Forty (Parts 1 and 2)

    “Bro, I’m home for the summer,” the text from Max said on my screen. “I need to chill tonight. My parents are already driving me crazy. Up for some company?” “Sure,” I wrote back, thinking about how it had been over nine months since we had seen each other. “The dungeon at five?” “Perfect. I’m going to need some food, though. I eat all the time. Gained some weight at school,” he shot back. “Didn’t we all! I think they call it ‘The Freshman Fifteen.’ Mine was caused by beer. We can order pizza. My parents are gone for the weekend,” I typed back. “Sweet. See you five-ish,” Max replied. I went down to the basement – otherwise known as the dungeon – to make sure it was suitable for hanging out. I’m sure it hadn’t been used since I had left for college. To my surprise, I found out my mom had clearly been cleaning it. There was a big screen for playing video games, a set of weights in the corner, some mats on the floor for rough-housing, and a couple of beat-up sofas for laying around. To my joyful surprise, there were also beers in the fridge – my parents having realized that Max and I were now responsible enough to drink. When it got close to five, I threw some popcorn in the microwave, so we’d have something to eat right away. It would be good to catch up with my best friend. “Yo! Bonehead! Where are you?” yelled Max from somewhere upstairs in the house. “In the dungeon. Get your wimpy little ass down here. Popcorn is ready,” I yelled back and I heard Max bouncing down the steps and I turned to greet him. “Holy hell, Max, what happened to you?” I had looked over expecting to see the dweeby body of my best friend since second grade, but what greeted me was something totally different. It was still the childlike face of Max – with the pouty lips and sultry dark eyes, but the body now looked like he had been through the same body enhancement program as Captain America. My best friend was wearing a gray, threadbare, Matrix t-shirt that hugged new contours and bulges that had not been there nine months ago. It was like someone had supersized Max. “The Freshman Forty,” he replied, smiling. “I wondered if you’d notice.” “Notice! How could I not? Damn, man . . . most freshmen just gain a lot around the gut from being lazy and drinking a lot. You look like you’re the Hulk but you’re only angry enough to bulge into some kind of young bodybuilder. Wait! Did you say Freshman Forty? Are you telling me you’ve gained forty pounds in just nine months,” I exclaimed, unable to process what he had said. “Yep, actually forty-two pounds of hard-earned, college boy muscle, dude. I kind of went crazy at the gym at school. I went down on a whim one day and found out that I really liked the way hitting the weights and machines made me feel. I loved the pump, dude. And soon, my clothes started getting really tight and that just made me more of a wild man than I already was. Then, people started to comment about how swole I was getting . . . and people even asked to feel my arms and stuff. I found out quickly that being groped by some adoring fan was boner heaven for me. From that moment on, all I could think about was getting bigger, man. I started doing an early morning workout and an early evening workout. And then this guy introduced me to protein shakes and that’s when the growth really took off. Fuck dude, I just gotta show you all the improvements,” Max said, as he pulled off his t-shirt in one quick move. I gasped out loud and fell back onto the sofa . . . like someone had just shoved me really hard. My dweeby friend, Max, from down the road now had pecs that ballooned out hard, beefy, and muscular. He had abs that could be seen and counted! It was like his stomach had turned into a brick wall. And his fucking arms were all veiny and huge – making him look like he could lift me and the sofa without any problem. I suddenly realized I was harder than shit in my jeans and my face shot red with embarrassment. “You’re like a young Arnold Schwarzenegger, dude! You know . . . before he moved to the States, when he was still just hanging out in the Alps. You’re fucking huge, Max!” I said, unable to control myself – I was completely in awe of my friend. “Oh, hell yeah, dude. I knew you’d be into it. I’ve been thinking about how it would be when I finally got to show you my new size. And I’m fucking still growing, man. Two pounds of muscle in the last week and a half. I’m going to get these arms up to twenty inches before the summer’s out!” Max said, tensing his entire body as he spoke and then he threw his right arm up into a flex. “Look at that, man. It’s already eighteen and a half.” My mouth dropped open wide as I let out a uncontrollable moan. I could feel myself leaking a little from the sight of his jacked up, humongous biceps. It was magnificent. Max was staring at it, too, and I could tell he was into that mound of peaked muscle as much as I was. I glanced down and saw the outline of a thick, huge, hard beef-stick pressing against his pants. My best friend was getting off on his own arm and I didn’t think there could be anything hotter in the entire world. “Being fucking jacked, man, makes me so horny all the time. I’m busting out three or four loads a day, just from flexing or staring at myself in the mirror. I sometimes cum when I’m lifting . . . the weights rattling as I shake from the explosion. But I keep pushing the weight into the air, man, I don’t stop. Ejaculations seem to fuel my workouts and I grow even more during those sessions. The school’s wrestling coach keeps begging me to join the team, but I keep telling him no. I’m not interested in competing, dude. I just want to keep growing. It’s like I can’t get enough muscle . . . ever. I just want to be fucking huge,” Max bellowed, as he flexed his arm even harder, making the peak swell up higher. “Your body’s so fucking hot, Max,” I said through heavy breaths. Max dropped his arm and looked down at me. He looked like some living Greek statue standing there, all pumped and huge. He didn’t say a word. He just stared at me, as if he were processing something. He made his pecs roll up and down, watching my gaze following them the entire time. It was like he was teasing me or giving me some kind of test. He then crunched his abs, hard, and watched as my eyes got wider. He reached down and undid the button on his jeans and pulled them open a little. “Protein shakes seem to have enhanced other parts of me, too, dude,” he said, his voice dripping in sexiness. “I noticed,” I replied, licking my lips to let him know of my approval. “Come punch my stomach, dude,” Max ordered. “What?” I asked, not sure if I heard right. “I haven’t just gotten big, man. I’ve gotten powerful, too. I’ve got the strength to match the muscles. Punch me. I love hearing a guy’s fist smack up against my tight abs,” Max replied. “Something tells me you’ll like it, too.” I could feel the wetness at my crotch – copious amounts of pre were flowing in response to Max’s jacked body . . . and his cocky attitude. I remembered when he was a scrawny kid wearing Spiderman briefs when he came for sleepovers. Now, he was packed with more muscles than Peter Parker. He squared his newly broad shoulders as he turned his body completely towards me. It seemed like the temperature in the basement had gone up about twenty degrees since Max had taken off his shirt. I was sure his thick body could produce that kind of heat. My best friend had clearly gotten tired of waiting for me to move. He stepped over to the sofa, bent down, grabbed the front my shirt and easily pulled me up to a standing position. He then let go and stepped back, again. “Punch hard, dude,” Max said. “You can’t do any damage. Watch your fingers, though. We don’t want you getting hurt.” “This is like a dream, bro,” I said, softly. “Does this feel like a dream,” Max said, grabbing my hand and placing it against the hot, hard flesh of his cement-like, bubbled abs. “Oh fuck . . . it’s like a concrete wall,” I said, without thinking – I was just responding to his chiseled body and the quickly jerked my hand back in shock. “Oh, bro, that so fucking turns me on . . . you saying that. I sometimes crank out five hundred sit ups, just to make my abs poke out super hard even while they’re in pain. Watch this, man.” Max balled his hand into a fist and then swung it out and slammed it back into stomach, quickly. It all happened so fast, I wasn’t prepared for it. The loud smack caused by his abs absorbing the punch made me jump. Max did it three more times – his fist flying as fast as lighting. Each loud smack echoed against the basement walls. His tight stomach had red marks all over it, but those abs were clearly hard-as-hell and he hadn’t felt a thing. There was a half-grin across Max’s face. He had noticed me jumping every time his fist hit his stomach. He had clearly liked my reaction. “Your turn. Don’t you want to see what kind of abuse my muscles can take, dude? Don’t you want to feel my abs stand up to you hitting me with all your might? Don’t you want to experience my power?” Max asked, knowing his words were making my balls ache. My mouth went dry. I felt a little light-headed, and my cock hurt like hell from needing to spew, but I wasn’t ready to explode. I knew Max wanted me to wait, too. He was putting on a show I’d never forget and I was enjoying the ride. I calmed myself, spread my legs into a wider stance for stability, balled my fingers into a fist, drew my arm back, and then let it fly into his stomach with all my might. My wrist kind of compacted in on itself and sent a jarring pain up my arm as my knuckles made contact with Max’s unyielding, brick wall of a stomach. The sound of my fist hitting his abs was even louder than his punches had been. I couldn’t believe how easily my powerful punch had been stopped. I immediately had to shake out my hand and arm to ease some of the pain. Max’s grin got bigger. “Freaking powerful punch, dude, but I didn’t feel a thing. Damn, watching your fist fly into my stomach and it not really registering at all gets me so fucking worked up, dude. And it makes me feel so incredibly jacked! Sorry about your hand, dude. It’s going to hurt for a while, I’m sure. Go ahead, take another feel of my rock-hard abs, dude. I know you want to,” Max said, smiling at me. I didn’t even need to think about it. I reached out with both hands – even the one still in major pain – and started feeling the guy’s mid-section like my life depended on it. It felt like he had lead pipes pushing out from under his skin – hard rows of muscle expanding with each breath. It didn’t feel human – the steel-plated belly of this soon-to-be twenty-one year old who used to complain that he could never beat me in an arm wrestling match. Now he was taking full-on power punches from me like they were nothing more than whacks from feather pillows. My hands were shaking with excitement. “Get ready, dude, I’m going to make it even harder. I’m going to blow your mind,” Max said, and then he bent his arms, leaning forward, and crunching his stomach intensely. “Fuck man! Your abs feel like steel,” I exclaimed – letting my fingers ripple down the firm, bulging ridges. “I’m going to have an eight-pack before we go back to college, dude. I’m going to need you to pound on these things once or twice a day this summer, just to keep me motivated. Don’t worry, we’ll get you some boxing gloves. We’ve got to protect those delicate hands of yours. Fuck, look at those abs, man, Hot as hell, right?” Max said through gritted teeth, still crunching with all his might. “I just got to keep getting bigger. It’s like the only thing that matters is size, dude . . . and definition. Check out my arms, man.” Max raised his vein-covered, huge biceps beside his head and slowly brought his tightened fists inward, causing his arms to explode upward with what could only be described as muscleboy power. I stopped all motion with my hands and just stared from one jacked arm to the other. My best friend watched my face and smiled as I basically lost all functionality by the shock of seeing what used to be skinny twigs now having become giant, split, muscle peaks that screamed of strength and the kind of manhood that made people gasp. “You’re a fucking muscle god, Max,” I said, almost in a whisper – my awe could not be hidden. “I’m so glad to find out you’re into all this muscle, too, dude,” Max said, looking at his own flexed arms. “Do some pull-ups using my arms, man. Watch how my flexed guns can hold all of your weight. I just love showing off my strength for you.” Again, I did not need to be told twice. My body trembled with pleasure as I moved close enough to Max to feel the heat radiating from his tensed body. Our hard, bulging crotches banged into each other and we both let out soft moans of pleasure. I reached up and latched my hands onto thick, stone-like, flexed muscle-mountains. I let my body press against his upper torso – noticing how it felt like I was pushing against a slab of concrete. I bent my legs, bringing my heels up, and my crotch twitched dangerously close to explosion when Max’s arms didn’t dip even slightly and he accepted the weight of my entire body like it was nothing. “Fuck, dude, it’s so hot that my arms can hold all of you with no problem. You gotta crank out some pull-ups, man, as I walk around. Fucking feel the power,” Max said, sending me into new muscle lust territory. Beads of sweat were dripping from the end of Max’s nose and I suddenly realized we were both breathing hard and grunting like animals in the wild. I pulled my body upward, slowly, loving how my throbbing cock rubbed against his crotch and hard abs – feeling unbelievable even through my jeans. Max started taking a few steps around the basement as I pulled myself upward and then slowly let my body slide back down his now slippery, sweaty body. Max started growling loudly as he kept his arms locked in their flexed position, not giving in even a fraction of an inch because of my weight. I pulled myself up again, letting my lips brush quickly against Max’s jutting right nipple, which sent intense shivers up and down his pumped body. Three pull-ups were the max my small arms could crank out, so I had to let my feet fall back down to the floor – wiped out from the exertion, but not too tired to stop myself from groping Max’s sweaty, hard, flexed arms with lust-filled enthusiasm. “So fucking hot, dude! My arms barely felt your weight . . . your entire body! Oh damn, that has gotten me so jacked. I’m about to burst from the power I’m feeling. Three cool pull-ups, by the way, dude, but now let me show you what my big arms can do,” Max said, still flexing. “Grab hold of my body and hold on tight. I want to give you a little ride.” I obeyed my new muscle master – not because I was scared of him, but mostly because the idea of hanging onto his sweat covered, hard, bulging body excited me beyond belief. Max’s arms were still raised, so I wrapped my arms around his upper body, barely able to make my fingers meet since he had packed on so much muscle. My face was smashed up against the ridge between his mammoth pecs and I inhaled his muscled musk. I then wrapped my legs around his newly thicker-than-shit thighs, thankful that his jeans helped me to have some traction to stay in place. Even with my extra weight attached to his body, Max easily bent his legs and jumped up the few feet to grab hold of the metal beam that stretched across the basement. In the past, we normally had to get chairs to reach the beam for pull-ups, but Max had no problem taking us both up to the thick piece of anchoring metal. “Bro, you sure you put on that Freshman Fifteen up at college? Because you seem as light as a feather. You hefted yourself up on my arms for what . . . three pulls, right? Pretty impressive, dude, but let me show you what these monstrous arms of mine can do. Let’s bust out fifty lifts to pump up my guns into something special for you. Let’s show you just how jacked I can get these muscles. I think it’s going to get us both even more jacked below the waist, as well – if you know what I mean. I can’t wait to show you my protein enhanced rod, dude. I’m thinking you’re going to enjoy it as much as you like my muscles,” Max said, starting to quickly and expertly lift both of our bodies up to the beam. I watched his guns – loving how the veins started popping out thicker . . . harder . . . and loving, even more, how his already bulging biceps grew bigger, thicker, and more gorgeous with each lift. I squeezed Max’s body with my arms and legs even more tightly – knowing, instinctively, that his hard body probably didn’t feel it. I could, however, feel his now man-sized cock throbbing noticeably through his jeans. The dude definitely enjoyed his own strength and loved watching his arms swell up as much as I did. I lost count around his twenty-first lift, mostly because of my amazement at how effortlessly he could pull his weight and mine up to the beam. “Holy fuck, look at my body, dude. I’m blowing up huge. It’s like I’m going to pop soon. Your buddy, Max, isn’t going to stop any time soon, dude. I’m going to become a muscle mountain. Forty pounds of muscle in nine months! Just imagine what I can turn into in nine years. You won’t be able to wrap your arms around my body soon, man. I want to be so colossal I have to turn sideways to walk through doorways. I want to fill up elevators with my freaky muscles so other people won’t fit in. I want to have to sit on only reinforced furniture. I want to blow your mind, dude,” Max said as he continued to easily crank out lifts – obviously lost in self muscle lust. “You already have,” I said looking up at his now mammoth, red, sweat-covered peaks that now made my own arms look like toothpicks. “Fucking hell, I feel like I could shove over a mountain,” Max said, dropping his body back down to the floor with a heavy thud when he landed – causing me to slightly slide down his sweat-dripping body. “I swear I even forgot you were attached to me, dude.” Max walked around the room with me latched on to him, like I was nothing more than an apron or something. He then stopped and wrapped his arms around my torso, squeezing so tightly that I was forced to let my legs come undone and drop. The big guy chuckled as he looked down and watched my eyes bug out as he applied more pressure to his bear hug. He knew I was loving it, though. He could feel my crotch twitching for joy up against his. I couldn’t help but again notice the size of his giant boner as it pressed into me. It seemed that everything about Max had been supersized. I was in muscle heaven. He lessened his grip and let my feet touch the ground again. He kept his arms around me, though, and grinded his crotch slowly into mine. He smiled and I could tell he was about to take our reunion to a new place. “I’m still a fucking virgin, dude. I couldn’t think about anyone’s hot mouth around my hard cock except for yours. How about it? You want to suck me off while I flex all these big muscles for you, man?” Max asked. “I’ve learned that if I flex while I cum, my body’s growth is magnified. This could be the beginning of you turning me into a freak, dude. Care for a suck?” “Gladly,” I said, softly, feeling his humongous arms. “I can think of nothing that would bring me more pleasure.” My words caused even more sudden growth to the python he now sported in his pants. I was mistaken to think he was already fully hard, because he thickened even more and the thing snaked out longer. Max allowed me to pull back so I could look down at his open fly. I sucked in loudly, as soon as I saw a thick, monstrous mushroom head poking up beyond his pants. Of course, muscular, confident Max would choose to not bother with underwear. His cockhead continued to move upward – proving that he still hadn’t become fully engorged. Max reached down and pushed his jeans down past his balls and then stopped. I quickly realized it was going to take too much effort to get the tight pants beyond his muscular thighs and neither of us wanted to wait that long. I took a long, open-mouthed gaze at a cock that surely would have been perfect for porno films. This was no young man’s dick – my best friend from elementary school had clearly grown into his manhood during his freshman year of college. Balls, matching the size of what you’d find on a billiards table, hung low and looked magnificent framed by two ripped, muscular quads. Thicker than my wrist and clearly much longer than my ass chute, Max’s cock stuck straight out and was crowned by a blood pumping, dense vein – just like the one on both his biceps. It’s base was also surrounded by a forest of dark, curly fur. The head was plump, clearly a mouthful and then some. I looked up at my friend and he smiled at the shock on my face. “Didn’t fucking expect that, did you, buddy?” Max teased. “I swear the thing grew just to keep up with my muscles. Every time I weighed myself, I was pretty sure half my gains were because of my cock and balls. No one at college comes close to matching my size and, trust me, I see a lot of schlongs in the showers at school. Bet you never thought I’d grow such a manly tool when we were kids, did you? This giant thing is so ready for a test drive, buddy. You’re going to make me the happiest muscleboy in the world.” “If I don’t choke to death first!” I said, quickly – making him laugh. “We can take it nice and slow, bro. That would be best for me, anyway,” Max said. “My body is so jacked right now I think I’m going to explode the second your lips meet my dick.” “You’re so fucking huge, Max. I think you’ve grown some since you got here,” I replied. “Wouldn’t doubt it . . . I’m so tensed I feel like I’ve just come off a three-hour lifting session. Just think about when I’ll be five times bigger than you, dude . . . and even ten times bigger. I bet my cock keeps growing just like the rest of me. I hope so, at least. Fucking hell, I know that throat of yours is going to give me orgasmic pleasure like I’ve never known. Don’t worry, dude, I’ll open you up, slowly,” Max said, stepping towards me and placing his hands on my shoulders. Max pushed lightly and I resisted on purpose. This caused him to look me in the eyes and, instantly, he knew what I was doing. He pushed harder – his biceps getting bigger from the exertion. My legs wobbled but I stayed firm, making Max’s face slowly move into an ‘eat shit’ grin. My best friend inhaled, deeply, making his chest puff out like he was some giant wrestler taking on two opponents at once. He took his right hand away from my shoulder and flexed his biceps in the space between us. He then squeezed my shoulder with his left hand – hard enough to make me squeal – and pushed down with what seemed like the weight of the world. My knees buckled, immediately. Max didn’t let me hit the floor hard, he was in total control. His left hand guided me gently to my knees and then he let go. He raised his left arm into a flexed biceps pose, too. Max then turned his waist, slightly, making his giant manhood slap against my cheek. There wasn’t pain, for the thing hit me lightly, but there was a lot of instant pleasure. It felt like a full two-liter bottle of soda was tapping the side of my face. I reached up and grabbed a handful of Max’s balls, realizing, instantly, that my hand was too small to hold them both, completely. I squeezed and two things happened. First, Max let out a deep moan that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up with excitement. And then a big blob of thick cum gurgled up from the slit of his large dickhead. It was like I had found the fountain of youth. I leaned in and let my tongue swipe that chalky man-honey straight from the source. It tasted intensely masculine, salty, pure, and like it could provide all the basic nutrients I would ever need. I licked my lips and then opened my mouth wide, taking all of Max’s fist-sized head into my mouth at one time. The dude’s already tense body, shot even more rigid “Fucking hell!” he yelled as he quickly forced himself to recover, keeping his arms flexed the entire time. “I’m not going to last long, buddy. I’m so sorry. I’m just too fucking stoked to finally be plowing your throat. Imagine how quickly I’m going to explode when it’s your ass I’m stuffing with this big thing.” That thought made me clamp my ass cheeks together. I had definitely never ridden something as huge as Max’s cock and I wasn’t even sure I was ready for that. In the meantime, however, I opened my throat as much as I could and Max could tell that was an invitation for him to start slowly shoving his battering ram into me. As promised, Max took his time. His heavy breathing told me it was for him just as much as it was for me. He wanted this to last, but he knew his body was already teetering on the precipice of complete, abandoned release. Tears welled in my eyes as that huge cockhead plowed slowly down my throat. I regulated my breathing and allowed my mouth to relax as much as I could. Looking up at Max’s bulging arms took my mind away from any pain and soon, the big guy was moving his crotch back and forth into my face, my throat accepting all of him. Max’ breathing made it sound like he was towards the end of finishing a marathon. He kept releasing his arms and then flexing them, again – each time harder and bigger. “Aw fuck, dude, I can feel myself growing! That is one fucking hot mouth. I’m not going to last much longer,” Max said. It made me happy to know that even with his huge muscles, Max could not hold back the building tidal wave inside his big, heavy, hairy balls. Every vein on his body was thick with blood since every muscle was now super tensed. The dude’s chest looked like a road map of a street-congested city. I knew the miniature Hulk was about to explode and what an explosion it was going to be. Max’s arms were jacked into bulging mountaintops. His chest was ballooning out so much I almost couldn’t see his face from below. And the dude’s abs were popping like bulbous speedbumps stretching down his stomach. I sucked like it would be the last thing I would ever do. I wanted to give my muscled best friend a blow job to remember. I wanted to give his body the kind of workout that would instantly give him gains that would make him apeshit crazy. I wanted to cause Max to grow huge. “Ohmyfuckinggooooooood!!!” Max screamed, loudly and deeply – it was more like a bestial growl. To call it a ‘gusher’ would have been selling Max’s ejaculation short. His rod emptied into me what was clearly voluminous buckets of semen. It felt like every freaking part of my insides was going to be full of his warm, oatmeal-thick spunk. The dude’s new muscles must have made him churn out juice every single minute of the day and he seemed to have been saving it up for a very long time. I swallowed quickly and deeply, but gobs of Max milk still dribbled down my chin. The big guy was still flexing away while he continued to thrust his giant man-sausage down my throat. I looked up as he tensed his arms even stronger and squeezed his eyes tight as a few remaining thick drops of cum shot into me. It definitely felt like I had now gained the Freshmen Fifteen just from the deposit muscleboy sent streaming down my throat. Any thoughts of our little sex session having tired Max out were quickly discarded as he dropped his arms, pulled his still-rigid cock from my mouth, and then went alpha crazy. “Fucking A, that was hot-as-hell, dude! God, I feel so freaking pumped! It’s like I’m on fire or radiating intense nuclear rays or something. I already feel like I could orgasm again. Look at my freaking jacked body, bro. I’m fucking Superman! There’s only one way to show you my gratitude for that blow job, man,” Max said, reaching down to shove his pants to the floor and step out of them. The big guy then bent down, grabbed me under my arms and lifted me to my feet – and it seemed like he used about as much effort to do it as I would have to lift a t-shirt. Max then stuck his hands down the front of my jeans and with one giant pull he ripped the button off, sending it flying and tore the zipper open. He then pushed my jeans down, so my hard cock popped straight up against my stomach. Max let out a loud whistle of appreciation as he gazed on my stiffness. Compared to his, my dick was nothing to get excited about, but I could hold my own with most guys. There was no need for muscleboy to get down on his knees for what he wanted to do. He had other ideas. Max grabbed me at the waist and picked me up. I soared up into the air – Freshmen Fifteen and all – with it taking no effort at all for the big arms holding me. Max maneuvered my body like I might as well have been a blow up doll or something lighter. The dude’s gorgeous mouth sucked in my hardness in one swift gulp and then he immediately started push-pulling my body into his throat. I was already so wound up by his body, his monstrous orgasm, and just his cocky alpha-ness that I spewed on his third powerful suck. I didn’t produce the tsunami-sized wave of cum that Max had, but I emptied what was definitely a thick load for me into the excited mouth below me. Max continued to hold me in the air and walked around the room as he lapped up every drop of juice my balls could produce. When he was sure I was totally empty, he tossed my body down onto one of the sofas and then immediately started flexing again. He began with a most muscular pose accompanied by a loud growl – actually catching me off guard and scaring me a little. “I’m fucking power, man!” he yelled, his face turning red from the exertion of the pose. “I feel fucking invincible. Dude, look at me! I am so fucking jacked! I can feel myself growing right now!” Max took his balled up right hand and pounded hard on his pecs about ten times. He then did the same against his abs with his left hand. Both arms were then thrust up into a double biceps pose as the guy let out an even louder growl. My spent cock shot instantly hard again when I took in his flexed arms. Then, in a flash, he had dropped his arms and he was smashed up against my body – pressing me into the back of the couch with enough force to break it. Max grinded his huge hard cock against mine as he brought his lips up to my mouth and his tongue rammed its way in. It was the most savage kiss I had ever received and I was shocked by how much it turned me on. I could feel my empty balls somehow producing some pre-cum that leaked out. Max’s hard muscled body compacted me into the sofa with so much power I had a feeling I was going to be a few inches thinner by the time he was done. I knew if he continued to thrust his huge cock into mine for much longer, I was going to spew again. And I wasn’t sure there was anything left in my body to release – which made me worry about having a heart attack from the intense empty explosion. Max, even as excited as he was, must have figured out how my much smaller body could not take the same kind of physical abuse as his. My muscles hadn’t been enhanced by nine months of lifting heavy weights. He knew his new muscleboy status meant he had to take it easier with us mere mortals. Max pressed his mouth into mine really hard for a few seconds, then he pulled his face away and rolled onto the sofa beside me. “I just knew you’d be into muscle,” Max said, his huge chest heaving up and down, beautifully. “I’m not usually,” I replied. “I’m into yours, though, Max. Cause I’ve always been into you.” He looked at me – really looked into my eyes and smiled. Suddenly, it dawned on me that he had been into me, as well. I smiled back at him, reaching over to grab the biceps nearest me and run my hand all over it. He looked down and watched me appreciate him. He then, suddenly, got up from the sofa, found his pants, and fished something out of the back pocket. He then came back and sat beside me, this time close enough that we were touching. He tossed some folded up papers on my stomach. “I brought you something,” he said. “What are these?” I asked. “An application to transfer classes already taken to my college. I figured we could get an apartment off campus and you could help me grow, while I walk around nude all the time and let you grope me anytime you like. That is, if you think you can handle it, bro,” Max said, leaning over to kiss my shoulder. “Well,” I said, “that all depends on how you answer this one question, muscleboy.” “Yeah,” Max replied, “What’s that?” “How big do you want to get?” I asked, looking deep into his eyes. “As big as I can,” he answered without any hesitation. “Right answer,” I said. “I’ll submit the transfer papers, tomorrow.”
  19. photoguy

    brothers Fraternal - P 8 up now

    Hey guys, Longtime lurker who’s finally decided to take the plunge. Not much exposition here - suffice it to say the characters are 18+ fraternal twin high school seniors, one of whom is developing a bit faster than the other... Anyway, definitely not literature; I just want us all to nut like crazy till we’re dehydrated. ************** Fraternal Part 1: Daydream Believer Matt stared off into space, blocking out the droning teacher, dreaming about his twin bro. Fuck, what if Derek kept growing? What if he shot up and out, towering over him, hitting 7’? His massive, sweaty muscles hulking with veins and striations, bulging and flexing rock hard with man power. He’d storm into their bedroom, casually breaking the door down with one massive fist, ducking down and turning sideways to squeeze through the opening... “What the fuck?!” “Sorry lil bro, but I got so fuckin horny workin out! I need your ass,” Derek growled, his deep bass voice matching his ruggedly handsome, thickly bearded teen face and gigantic body. His veiny monster dick was rock hard and leaking a thick rope of precum, slanted off to the side and ripping through the heavy material of his shorts. Derek flexed his abs and cock hard, blowing his shorts and jockstrap apart completely, his monster dick flipping upward and slinging precum onto his briefcase-sized pecs and into his thick teen beard. A big rope hung off his heavy mustache, right over the full lips, and his incredibly long powerful tongue unfurled to lap the salty goo off sensually. Derek strode over to the bed, his huge feet thudding. He reached down and grabbed Matt by the throat, his giant paw wrapping easily around the jock’s neck. He lifted his bro out of bed with one fluid motion, barely registering the weight on his hulking arm. He dangled Matt in midair. Their eyes were completely level, while Matt hung eight inches off the floor. “Enough talk. Fuck time!” Derek roared, flipping Matt around and impaling his beefy ass on the dripping, veiny 13” long x 3” diameter monster dick, the apple-sized cockhead busting past his glutes and stretching his ring wide open. Matt saw with horror in the mirror that he no longer had a tight puckered little manhole, but thanks to Derek’s repeated battering a gaping, sloppy, loose-lipped mancunt hung from his jock boy ass and hugged the giant meat wetly. His back arched as he begged for more, goading his twin into a frenzy of musclefucking, globs of hot precum belching out of his red, prolapsed, destroyed pussy, the massive cock distending his abs like some kind of alien invader. Matt watched through tears as Derek’s incredible girth dragged his guts inside out, filling him like no other man could. Suddenly Derek gripped his side hard with one huge paw, slamming Matt down until Derek’s dick was buried to the orange-sized balls. He flexed hard, a full body flex that made the veins on his muscles and cock surge, forcing him to grow outrageously bigger, stretching out Matt’s already wrecked asshole and lifting his body up. “Unnnf... so fuckin BIG...” he moaned, clamping his mancunt down and suddenly erupting like the fucktoy slut his bro’s muscle and dick had transformed him into. “Grrr, yeah, fuckin’ big.. an’ gettin’ BIGGER!” Derek growled, suddenly straightening up his towering body and flexing to appreciate his new height and power, Matt’s whole body weight supported easily by Derek’s steel-hard monster. Razor-cut striations jutted out even more across the insanely muscled expanse of this body, while veins pulsed and bulged even thicker. Fuck, Derek was noticeably bigger and leaner than he was earlier that day, bulging with raw masculinity and dripping with sweat. He felt Derek’s balls swell and tighten up as the first cannon blasts of cum began to batter his guts, his gaping pussy meat sliding up the veiny shaft from the force... RRRRING! Matt snapped to attention back in class, dick spent and dripping down his leg, as the bell rang.
  20. This is my first story. I like to think that my writing gets better as the story unfolds. Of course there are always misses and hits, but please continue to read, and give me your feedback. Authors live for your feedback. The Wall I’m a successful Wall Street executive. My life is good. In fact, sometimes I think it is too good. I don't complain. My office is in the city, and I have a nice home on Long Island from which I commute to work every day. My work days are long and sometimes stressful, but I enjoy the challenges, and I decompress by obsessively working out in the gym and working in my garden. The garden is beautiful, but I always thought that it was lacking a few defining structures; so, when the idea hit me that a beautiful stone wall would create the backdrop it deserved, I hired a reputable landscape contractor who could make my ideas into reality. I was so excited. Monday was to be the start of the new wall project, and I had been thinking of little else for weeks. Unfortunately, the garden, where usually I love to entertain, was about to become a construction zone. So, the weekend before, I decided to invite my friends John and Ernie over for lunch by the pool and an afternoon swim. They accepted and had asked if they could bring couple of their friends along that they thought I would enjoy. You see, John and Ernie are toned and attractive enough, but they know I what really like is muscle -- lots of it. I get off on big, beefy, masculine men - physical men who enjoy rough housing and showing off. Nothing turns me on like a big man who’s willing to rip off his shirt, wrestle me into a bear hug and show me that he’s at least a strong as me. I work out a lot myself, and at 6’2” and 245 lbs, I make a worthy competitor. I like feeling the strength of other men, and I love being tested and felt up and appreciated by big men even more. I had left a note on the front door for Ernie and John and their friends to let themselves in and meet me on the terrace by the pool. They arrived single file down the garden path - first John with a big hug and a whistle, and then Ernie with pat on my rump and a tousle of my hair. Then, Ernie made his hands into fists and started pounding on my pecs. “Someone’s been working out!” Another whistle. Then with a squeeze, “You’re gonna need a binder for these things if they get any bigger, Max.” Then Ernie doubled back for grope of my arm and said, “Oh wow! I can’t get my hands around it. You may be getting too big, or is there such a thing?” Now Ernie and John know I love a little admiration and that I don’t really have a limit for too big; so, I knew they were up to something when they started fawning over me and teasing. I also know that Ernie and John are aware that throwing a little admiration my way goes straight to my dick, and I was just starting to chub up a bit when their two friend showed up next, sending me straight to full mast steel in seconds flat. John said, “Maxie, if you’re not careful, you may get as big as our friends Eric and Lars here.” Gulp... “Max, meet Eric and Lars. Boys, this is our host Max.” Oh my God. Two men of my dreams, Eric and Lars were big and tall and looked like superheroes in shorts and polo shirts. Eric was fair skinned and dark haired, and Lars was golden all over – hair, skin and eyes - like a lion. I was slack jawed and salivating, and they looked pretty hungry for me as well. With a firm squeeze of my rump Ernie said, “Well, isn’t anybody going to say anything? Hellowwww? Gentlemen…?” Knocking on the top of my head, “Hellowwww... Is anybody in home? ... Earth to Max!” Startled back into civility, I offered my greeting to both Eric and Lars, and we said our polite hellos while continuing to survey each other’s physiques like hungry wolves eyeing fatted lambs (or in our case, like other hungry wolves. I couldn’t stop staring, and I couldn’t seem to maneuver my hardon into a less obvious position. It was straight up, hard as a rock and going nowhere. The attraction was so strong, that I think it was actually uncomfortable for Ernie and John, although, Ernie could always come up with a quip or a bitchy remark to lighten the tone. “OMG, you three! get a room! Or should I just jerk you off right here so we can get that lunch we were invited for today. AND DRINKS! I'm sure we were promised DRINKS!” Then nodding to the iced pitcher by the grill, “Maxie, my dear, get it in gear. Those margaritas are not going to serve themselves!” Long story short, the afternoon was fantastic. Besides being absolutely gorgeous hunks of prime muscle beef, Eric and Lars were also interesting and witty and delightful. They were just so damn sexy that I couldn’t stop staring and fantasizing. Every hearty laugh expanded a massive chest. Every lift of a fork flexed bulging biceps. A twist and stretch near the end of the meal made Eric’s shirt rise up above his navel, exposing the base of a rippling 6 pack. I stayed hard for 2 hours. When lunch was through, I offered the pool to my guests and indicated a changing room just off the deck. Eric and Lars acknowledged acceptance with a nod and set off to get changed, but John and Ernie declined, saying that they had eaten and drunk too much and needed a nap instead and would just head home early if I didn’t mind entertaining Eric and Lars for the afternoon. John gave me a wink and a peck on the cheek, while Ernie just groped me in the crotch and said, “I’m sure you three can find something fun to do without us,” and then, “I hear Lars is quite flexible.” A few minutes later, Eric and Lars emerged from the pool house, and I didn’t know if I would pass out right there or just cum in my shorts. My God, those boys could fill out their speedos. And talk about perfection, each in his own way the definition of what manliness should be. Eric was fair with a swirling pattern of dark hair on his chest, a defined trail down the middle of his abdomen, with more abundant hair over his thickly muscled legs. Lars was golden all over, with honey colored skin and a light dusting of golden hair all over his chest, forearms and legs that shimmered in the sunlight, making him look like a salted caramel ready to be sampled. Both of them were hugely built. Eric had absolutely enormous legs, butt, back and arms. Lars had the biggest pecs hanging over the tightest abs and most defined atlas belt I had ever seen. I was slack jawed, and they were all grins. I think Ernie and John must have alerted them ahead of the game that they could have some fun with me, and when they dropped their towels on the chaises and started rubbing suntan oil onto each other, then I had to get in on the action. I walked over, and Lars started flexing his pecs, bouncing the huge slabs up and down and saying, “Hey, Eric, have you noticed how Max can’t stop staring at my pecs. I think he might be a chest man. What do you say, Max? Do you want to help Eric put some sunscreen on my chest?” Before I could reply, Eric said, “No, Lars, I think he’s an arm man. Look how his dick twitches in his pants when I flex like this.” Eric flexed a huge arm in front of my face, and true to form, my dick twitched and pumped out some precum that made a wet spot on the front of my shorts. Lars then said, “You know, I think John and Ernie said that more than anything else, Max would like to flex for us. I could definitely go for that. Why don’t we get him out of those clothes and see what he’s got. From the tent in the front of his shorts, I don’t think we’ll be disappointed.” Eric then grabbed my shirt by the hem and pulled it up over my head while Lars unbuttoned/unzipped my shorts and pulled them to my feet. It happened so fast I could hardly react, but my dick responded, all nine inches of it, throbbing straight up toward my pecs and leaking copious precum as my guests made their inspections. Eric let out a low whistle and moved close behind me, pushing his own hardon up against my butt while reaching around me to rub sunscreen onto my chest and shoulders. “Hey, Lars, his chest is almost as big as yours, but I think you should get closer so that we can more easily compare.” Lars nuzzled up front, grinding his still speedo-covered erection into my hardon while flexing his pecs and his abs. “Hey Eric, he does have an amazing rack, but I think I’ve still got him beat. What about his arms? They look pretty big. Why don’t you each flex a biceps for me so I can decide who’s is bigger?” Eric’s right arm appeared in my peripheral vision and flexed into an enormous peak just beside my right cheek. I couldn’t help but turn my head and begin licking it, and I thought I might cum right then. Lars interrupted, “No! No! No! Do not cum yet. You may not cum until the comparison is through. Okay, Max, flex that big arm for me and let me see how yours feels compared to Eric’s.” I flexed with all my might, turned on like I had never been before and somehow willing myself not to come until permitted. “Oh, man, Max, your arm is as big as Eric’s, but I think his peak is still higher." My dick was shuddering like crazy, and the precum was leaking in a continuous stream. "Yeh, big man, you and Eric are close in the arm department, but his back and ass are like nothing you’ve ever seen and can't be beat by anyone. Turn around, and Eric can drop his trunks and you’ll see what I mean.” With that, still sandwiched between the two musclemen, I turned around and then watched as Eric took a step back, turned around and raised his arms into a double biceps. My hands were instinctively all over his arms and shoulders, and my cock was shuddering but somehow still under control. “Rear lat spread,” commanded Lars, and Eric complied, lowering his fists to his waist and forcing the wings of his back to spread as wide as any back I had ever seen. Then, while Eric was still flexing, Lars reached around and pulled Eric’s speedo to the ground. That ass was magnificent. High, tight and covered with a light dusting of hair. As Eric shifted weight from one foot to the other, the landscape of his gluteus muscles flexed and rolled. I could see some glistening sweat and a tuft of slightly thicker hair at the base of his spine, disappearing into the top of his ass crack, and I nearly blew my load again. I had never seen and ass that beefy and beautiful before. I needed to be inside that ass, and I needed it right then. Seeming to sense my need, or maybe revealing his own, Eric leaned over and grabbed his ankles. Then Lars grabbled a glob of precum from my dick and lubed Eric’s hole. Then Lars commanded me to flex my own double biceps pose while he positioned my dick at Eric’s hole. He then shoved his own 8-inches into me, which in turn forced me to enter Eric with a single thrust. Mphggh! It was pleasure beyond anything I had ever dreamed. With Lars fucking me and squeezing my biceps while I was fucking Eric and feeling his big muscle ass, I finally came, buckling over Eric at the same time that Lars came and buckled into me, and Eric came and nearly buckled to the ground. I must have pumped a gallon of cum into Eric. Lars was still feeling my arms and my pecs and ramming my ass, and I just kept cumming and cumming, worshipping Eric’s huge muscled body from behind while myself being worshipped the same. Finally, we were done and exhausted and laughing and lightly wrestling and flexing and feeling and then doing it all over again in the opposite direction and several different combinations. Eric and Lars stayed for the night and most of the following day. Then we said our farewells, and they were gone. Like I said, the weekend was relaxing. Now it was Sunday evening, and I needed to get ready for the week. Let me know if you enjoy the story so far. I can continue it if you like.
  21. Heya y'all! It's my first time actually posting anything on this site (that i can remember, at least) and the first time I try my hand at writing this kind of story. but since I read a lot of content from lots of authors both from here and from the previous website, I figured it was time to give a small fraction of it back. Fair warning; English isn't my mothertongue, so any mistakes are entirely mine! Without further ado, here's part one! I hope you'll enjoy it. Male Hunger Part one The humid air of his room had gotten warmer. Bran huffed and licked his lips, tasting the salty sweat racing down his head, hips rocking, his wide hands wildly jerking off his thick cock. He groaned lowly, racking a cum-covered palm through his short hair and started slapping his dick on his 6-pack, splashing precum everywhere. After a few beats, his heavy balls surged higher.. And Bran stopped, out of breath, hands off his penis, his body tensing, muscles flexing hard to keep himself from cumming. After a few long seconds, he brought a veiny hand to his mouth and licked the pre off his thick fingers, one after the other. The taste of pre and the weight of each rough fingers in his mouth had him shuddering so much his eyes closed. Bran roughly pinched his nips and grunted quite loudly as saliva filled his mouth. His other hand skimmed down his thick pecs, along the valleys of his abs, to finally grasp at his thick shaft. He fisted his dick and – the immediate, overwhelming pleasure had him gasping out and snorting air back in, nostrils wide, hips pumping- he distantly recognized the potent scent of his own musky sweat and semen, different, stronger than ever before – He needed more. “Fuuck…,” he growled out, kicking his muscled legs further apart. He needed just a bit more. His other hand left his fluid-covered pecs to tug at and massage his bloated balls, the sensations shooting up sparks up his body. They felt so good, so full, he threw his head back on his pillow; his pre-covered hair coating them. He rocked his hips harder, the sound of his bed hitting the wall getting louder. He distantly heard some of his dorm neighbors hit the wall back but he couldn’t find it in himself to give a single fuck; his attention solely focused on pleasuring his thick, weeping cock. “Fuck!,” he snarled, teeth bared, as release started sweeping through his body. He tensed ever more, both hands tight on his shaft now, tense, striated pecs protruding more and hiding the root of his dick. Not that it mattered; his eyes were focused on the way his cock thickened even more, despite the two fists holding it. Long moments passed, during which his heavy balls, usually hanging low, pulled up and sent its fiery magma up. Bran panted wildly, wide eyes almost rolling backwards, as the first load of semen burst out and arched up the wall behind him, almost splashing on the wall. Some of the thick magma dropped back down and landed on his face, in his mouth, in his hair and on his pecs. After a few tense seconds, as the thicker and warmer liquid and its unusually strong taste coated his taste-buds, a second explosion of semen went out. It did much the same as the first. The third was much the same. “Mmhhh… So good...,” Bran moaned lewdly, in a pleasure-filled haze, as his body alternated between tensing and releasing loads of thick cum over and over. He groaned some more at the ninth; the final shot, the rest of his release dribbling out thickly and utterly flooding his abs. Still in a daze, heart beating loudly in his ears, Bran stroked his heaving belly, sliding the thick white goo over his wide torso, up his neck, down to his pubes. He thoroughly coated his still-rock-hard penis and huge, heavy balls in the stuff. Then he scooped as much as he could and licked it up with one hand, the other dedicating itself to playing with his hard cock. After a while, Bran’s stomach cramped. He was quite hungry but couldn’t be bothered to move. But the sleepiness he expected after such a release didn’t come: he started feeling antsy, as though he had had too much caffeine. His cramping stomach decided him; he would eat something, maybe watch something mindless on the TV, and then he’d go back to bed. But as he got up, something felt off; but Bran shrugged the idea away. He did the same with the vague idea of putting on clothes; it was too much trouble, besides no one was there to care besides himself. And he felt quite warm; he was still sweating. The fact he used to care a lot more about not being buck-naked in the dorm, even in his room, a few weeks ago amused him distantly. His feet thudded and left perspiration on the floor as he left the cum-covered bed and wall behind him. He felt something warm hit his legs and snorted in amusement; his hard-on was still leaking. Feeling even hungrier, Bran headed straight to the small fridge and opened the door. The sudden light had him squinting -the sudden cold surprised him – as he bent his head to search for something good to eat. The cold felt good against his warm flesh and he shuddered in delight. He reached for a can of coke, rose back up, and drank it in a few big gulps. He drank another, and another after that. Then, stomach feeling less empty, but still needing fuel, he went back down and was about to take another can when he noticed something and huffed out a short laugh. “Fuckin’ hell,” he whispered. So focused he had been on filling his belly, he hadn’t really noticed that his still leaking hard-on had coated some stuff in pre. He smirked, shook his head and took out some leftover – spaghetti bolognese – to heat up while he turned on the light, searched for a fork and a big plate. After serving himself, he set himself in front of the TV and, before turning it on, he couldn’t help but checking himself out. His reflection showed him as he was; sitting on a slightly-too-small sofa, large arms bursting out off thickly muscled shoulders and traps rising high of his bull neck. Big legs spread wide, cock high and thick, still dripping, heavy balls low and resting on the sofa. His tight musclebound gut and the V-shape low on his hips partially hidden by his wide and 10 inches long cock, his tits hanging low on a decent pair of round pecs, biceps close to 17 inches and veins and striations both easy to see on his 6’3 frame… All of those were pretty good reasons for the deep satisfaction he felt at looking at himself, a smirk reflecting such masculine pride tugging at his lips. His cock pulsed heavily as pre made his abs glisten and- his stomach cramped: he took a big bite of his meal, burped loudly – the coke – huffed out a laugh, and, feeling a bit more satisfied but still quite ravenous, he demolished his meal. But before he knew it, he was back at the fridge, pulling out enough to make another, albeit bigger meal – he was that hungry. But a man his size needed to eat quite a lot to stay so big. He smiled. “’m damn glad Ian’s not back yet,” he snickered, “he’d freak if he saw me right now”. He slapped his belching cock absently, a meaner smirk on his lips. “Though I know how I’d shut him up, mmffhhh…”, Bran closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, imagination running wild, his cock pulsing harder. Bran then smiled and stole an under-cooked chicken breast from the frying pan, too hungry to wait any longer. He munched on it, muscled jaw breaking it down fast, and his strong neck moving as he swallowed, eyes glazing over in pleasure, drool dropping from his lips. Too busy eating, he didn’t notice the bigger veins appearing all over his studly body. He was too taken up by the need to fill his void-like belly. Meanwhile, the scent of his body, of male pleasure and exertion slowly but silently got stronger in the warm and humid air of his room.
  22. My first real fiction story that I've ever written, I was inspired by a pic I came across recently (I've attached it in this chapter). While there is muscle growth in the story, it is not the main focus. Hope you enjoy it! Chapter 1 – the mysterious stranger I was feeling good, in the middle of a road trip around my state. Travel options were limited thanks to a pandemic sweeping the world. I hadn’t planned anything specific for this trip, which was a new experience for me - I was usually meticulous and planned for everything I did, right down to the informal plans over a usual day. I found not making plans for this holiday really exciting and freeing, a good remedy to months of working from home and not being able to socialise or go anywhere. As a 38-year-old man who was only discovering his social life in the last few years, meeting guys and having sexual experiences, not being able to build on my life in my new home was a downer. I’d moved from another state 9 months ago, and barely got to explore when the state went into lockdown. While I was no adonis, I kept myself active with biking, walking and other exercise, and was told I looked attractive and younger than my age. I had an average build, kinda hairy, and what would best be described as a “dadbod”. I had been self-conscious about my body and people seeing me naked for many years, but getting used to the idea that I’m attractive enough, fairly fit and looked after myself, despite having a below average penis size. I found in recent years I became more comfortable being social and putting myself out there to meet guys and looking for anything from a one-off sexual experience to a relationship. On this day I had been on a short hike up a beautiful mountain, and gone mountain biking in an area I’d never been before, which was always fun and challenging, since I never know what to expect when I ride in new places. I was on my way to my destination for the night, a small country town about 3 hours drive from where I was bike riding. My plan was to research caravan parks and choose one to set up my tent and sleep. I wasn’t much for camping, but thought it would be good to switch between hotels and camping each night. My GPS was directing me through all these quiet back roads through bushland, and I was happy to blindly follow the directions, enjoying seeing different areas of the countryside. About 2 hours from my destination, I spotted this young guy just walking along the road, shirtless and barefoot. It was lightly raining, and it didn’t seem like this guy had planned to be there, certainly not dressed in so few clothes and in the middle of nowhere. I slowed down and pulled over just past where the guy was walking, since it felt right to check if he was OK. As he walked up to the passenger side of my car I noticed how toned his body was in the side rear-view mirror, even though I couldn’t really make out his face properly. I lowered the window as he approached, and as he looked through the window I got a full sense of how attractive this guy was. He looked about 22 years old, shortish black hair, tanned skin (I suspected he was Latino) and a baby face. I tried not to stare at his beautiful torso – it was lean and muscular, not overly beefy, with a small amount of hair all over, and a visible treasure trail leading from his belly button down to his shorts. His abs were a taut and solid six-pack, and his whole body looked like solid muscle, with veins protruding and snaking throughout his skin. The fact that he was also dripping wet left me speechless for a few seconds while I took in his form. I asked: “Are you OK?” - it seemed like the best way to approach in the situation we were in. “I’m not sure, I don’t know where I am or how I got here” he replied. My hunch about him being Latino seemed to be confirmed by what sounded like a Spanish accent, which I found sexy as hell. “What was the last thing you remember?” I asked. “Hmmm…I remember getting up this morning, not really clear what happened since then” he replied. The whole situation seemed really weird, and I wasn’t really sure how I should react. I also wasn’t sure whether I could trust what this guy is telling me. On the other hand, I couldn’t think of a reason why someone would lie about being in the middle of nowhere without shoes or a shirt though, despite it being summer and really hot outside. While I was not in the habit of giving rides to strangers, I couldn’t leave him out there, and the fact that he was ridiculously hot was somewhat encouraging as well! “Can I give you a ride somewhere, maybe a hospital to get you checked out?” I asked. He spent a few seconds thinking, and then replied: “I would appreciate a ride, I’m not really a fan of hospitals though”. “Where can I take you then?” was my next response. “Do you think I could hang with you until I work out what to do next?” he said. I took a while before I responded - I’m generally pretty cautious in unusual situations, and while I wanted to help this guy out, the whole thing was uncomfortable and sketchy in my mind. I was mulling over all the possible scenarios of what could happen if I take him with me, and the possible other options I could offer. I needed to get a little more information if I was going to offer an alternative. “Where do you live?” I asked. He took a few seconds again before he responded, which made me increasingly suspicious. “I’m actually from Colombia, but staying in Australia for a few months and travelling. I’ve been staying with various people along the way” he said. Now my red flags were lighting up, it was starting to sound like a setup, him just trying to get someone to use so he can get to the next place on his travels. The lack of clothing and baggage didn’t seem to fit that line of thinking though, and he seemed genuinely confused by his situation. Since I was doing an unplanned trip by myself, the idea of having company might be good, and as long as I’m careful with my valuables there didn’t seem to be too much risk involved. The shorts he was wearing seemed pretty small when I saw them, so if he had a weapon there weren’t many places he could hide it! I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt but make my expectations clear. I told him that he could stay in a hotel with me that night (in separate beds of course) and I would help him with what he needed to continue on his journey (within reason), but after that he was on his own. He agreed and I got out of the car to get a beach towel out of my baggage so he could dry off. As I gave him the towel, I asked him what his name was, he replied it was Jorge (pronounced hor-hay), which I thought was a really sexy name. I wasn’t sure how I was going to deal being around this hot guy who was probably straight and certainly not interested in someone twice his age. I was pretty adept at making friends and relating to younger people though – my nephews are in their early twenties and like hanging with me, and I had several close friends who are Jorge’s age as well. I figured if I can be helpful and friendly it’s a great chance to get to know someone new, even for just one night. On the trip he asked me a lot of questions about myself, including some quite personal questions about my dating life, which was a little confronting. He made me feel comfortable enough to discuss it with him though, not sure why! As part of the discussion I told him I was gay, but had never really been in a relationship, and was starting my adult social life later than most people. I’m always worried about telling people that, since it makes me seem like some kind of outcast or loser. Jorge seemed genuinely interested in learning all about me though, although he seemed really guarded about his own life when I asked. I did manage to confirm he was gay though, using the old “do you have a girlfriend back home?” question. He seemed quite relieved to tell me about his sexuality, and he mentioned that he’d never been in a relationship himself. While that didn’t mean anything was going to happen between us, it at least made me feel more comfortable in my attraction for him, and gave us more to talk about. I asked Jorge to use my phone to look up some hotels in our destination, but he needed a lot of help, it seemed he’d never booked a hotel before! In the end I decided we’d make the final booking once we get to our destination, and I could go through the details myself. Once we’d gotten to the destination, I found a hotel that had a room with a queen and single bed which would be perfect for us, and close enough to the centre of town so we could go for a wander and get food and stuff. While Jorge seemed comfortable (and sexy) in just shorts, I thought he should be more dressed if we were going to eat out somewhere. I lent him a t-shirt and some flip flops, both of which seemed unfamiliar to him - I figured it was just a result of his upbringing. It seemed like he found wearing clothes and footwear…inconvenient? I thought it would be nice to find some food familiar to him, so we went to a Mexican restaurant in town. We enjoyed some great food and conversation, with me mostly answering his questions and him telling me very little about himself. His questions became increasingly sexual, I got the impression he hadn’t had much sexual experience and was curious as to how it worked. After dinner we walked around a nice lake and then to our hotel room. We chatted for a while sitting on our beds, then we both had showers and got ready for sleep. I took the queen bed and Jorge was in the single. Just before I turned off the light Jorge asked me: “After everything that’s happened to me today I would feel safer if I could share the bed with you, is that OK?” Apart from getting a sudden boner I was wondering whether it would be a good idea. Considering how naïve Jorge was about a lot of things, I thought it might be good for him to have a nice experience with a guy who wasn’t just going to take advantage of him. I said it was OK so Jorge climbed into my bed. He was naked, and I was just wearing boxer shorts, which was my usual habit for sleeping. Initially we just lay on opposite sides of the bed, and all these thoughts were going on in my mind, thinking how much my plans for the day had changed since coming across Jorge on that road. He was so handsome and friendly, and so strangely naïve about certain things, I was wondering how he’d been able to travel successfully all this time. After a while, maybe 20 minutes, Jorge shuffled over to my side of the bed, and put his arm around me, resting his hand on my chest in a spooning position, with me facing away from him. I instantly got hard, I was not accustomed to this level of affection. He whispered: “You feel so good to hold, I hope this is OK with you”. I put my hand over his and said: “it’s OK”. Feeling his solid muscles against my body felt amazing, and I could tell he was hard too. Feeling his solid chest pushing into me with each breath was so calming I fell asleep fairly quickly.
  23. MuscleLvr321

    super-strength Great Genetics

    The sun shone through my bedroom window, illuminating everything in its path in a warm, yellow glow. The rays bathed my bed, and me along with it. The sudden pleasure of warm sunlight slowly and peacefully woke me up. A smile grew on my face; another day of being perfect. I stretched with a sense of pleasure and satisfaction as my incredible, chiselled physique was warmed by the sun’s light. It was for exactly this reason that I did away with any sheet or quilt. I wanted to be woken like this; by the sun that made my Adonis body shine. First, my feet. Size fifteens. And if they give you any idea of the rest of me, they were both beautiful and powerful looking. The tendons themselves looking like machine parts, rather than human parts. Next, my calves. Twin diamond-shaped, diamond-hard beauties. Each one too big for a normal man’s hand to full engulf. Whenever I walked they bunched, hardened, and flexed. My quads are up next. Massive. Powerful. Godly. The ripples of the muscles, and the ridges that ran through and around them. Complimented by a network of veins that looked like lightning bolts, some of which faded down into my lower legs and calves. Above these tree-trunk sized miracles was my remarkably narrow waist. Narrow in comparison to the rest of me, that is. Currently resting on one side of my waist were all seven inches of my flaccid manhood. And trust me, when I wanted, I could give way more inches than that. Just above this intimidating python was what could be mistaken as a cobblestone pathway. On second glance, you would clearly see that it was just an insanely defined, flawless eight-pack. Each ab a clear dome, separated by all others by deep cuts that could each easily hold a bit water. And that was before I tensed or flexed. Flanking these eight rocks were some more-than-impressive obliques. Wave-like muscles that, like the quads, rippled dutifully. It was as if they wanted me to look more beautiful than I already was. Above my abs were the two reasons why I couldn’t see my abs. Two almost square-like slabs of what felt like titanium. And yet, I could bounce and jiggle both as if they were made of a softer clay. Better known as my pecs, these bulbous, meaty marvels were kept apart by a narrow crevasse that ran between them. On either side of these two steel-hard pieces of beef were my boulder shoulders. Like my calves, no normal man could ever hope to fit a whole hand around one. Too big, too muscular, too vascular. Hanging from them were they most powerful, strongest pair of arms you’ll ever see. Biceps that formed into perfect peaks that rivalled cement in terms of solidity, followed my forearms that exuded strength, and ending with a pair of hands that could easily fit around my calves and shoulder. And don’t forget the criss-cross of veins that mapped my forearms, and that one delicious vein that runs down each bicep. The one that every gym rat longs to see; the definitive proof that one has achieved muscle. I roll over onto my front so that the opposite side of me can enjoy some few minutes of warmth before I get up. My expansive, rippling back swells in delight at the feel of the warmth. My back alone is literally heavier than most average men. My triceps, second only to my biceps, both unleash a powerful flex as they help me turn over. And finally my ass. The two delectable globes of prime beef. Just like my pecs, I could bounce them with ease, and on a moment’s notice. Once I decided that I was adequately warmed up, I rolled back over and got out of them bed. All seven feet of my rose to my full height. Aside from the lush locks that flowed from scalp, and the uber-masculine stubble that coated my gorgeous face, I was completely hairless. All of my godly definition was as clear as the day outside. Plus, not a single blemish. Ever. I didn’t get them. Already my seven inches were approaching nine as I flexed my body, and took the time to feel myself up. Hard, sold, powerful, strong. I had great genetics. And I haven’t even told you about my strength yet. I threw on a pair of red boxer shorts that were stretched thin over my quads (despite being the largest size the store had to offer). My heavy footsteps resonated as I marched with a sense of power and authority from my room to the kitchen. My muscles all the while flexing, tensing, bunching. You would not want to be in my way! “Moring pops”, I say as I entered the kitchen and saw that he was already making me breakfast. Poor Dad. I guess genetics have a way of skipping generations. “Morning big buddy!” said my dad, genuinely excited and thrilled to see me. And even more thrilled to see me in just boxer shorts. Dad was a normal man. Little to no obvious muscle, balding, a bit of a flabby beer belly, the makings to a double chin, and a body with hair and blemishes. But a kind heart, and all the love a dad had for his son. He himself was wearing just a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, both of which were noticeably loose on him. I approached him, took a handful of the back of his shirt collar, and smoothly lifted him off the ground until his bare feet were left dangling over a foot off the ground. Dad was 5’10’’, and about 150 pounds. But to me, that was nothing. He might as well have been ten times that weight, and I still wouldn’t have noticed. I gave him a kiss on his head. “Pancakes?! Fuckin’ A old timer!” I said gleefully, eyeing the mountain of pancakes that Dad had made specifically for me. I ate like a dozen horses after all. “My big man needs to eat” he said, looking on at my perfect, angular face with pride in his eyes. Of course he was still dangling in my grasp. He casually swung his legs back and forth a small bit as I surveyed the pancakes, enjoying the feel of being held off the ground. “I’ll take all of those” I said, gesturing to at least ninety percent of the pancakes, “You’ll have whatever is left”. “Yes son” said Dad. Dad always did what I said. Like I good beta, he knew who the alpha was. I set him gently back down onto the floor. Not because my arm was getting tired, but because I wanted him to get back to work. “You’re looking especially amazing today son” he said, tracing his fingers over my steel abs. I didn’t need to tense them. Even in their un-tensed state Dad didn’t have a hope of denting them. His fingers, to me, felt so small and fragile. I smiled down at him, as I towered above him. “I’m guessing there’s something you want” I said, smiling wryly at him. “Eh…I’d like to buy some new clothes…” he said, nervously looking up at me, a hopeful and bashful grin on his face. I controlled the finances, even though Dad was the one with a job. “Go on” I said, crossing my arms. In doing so, my spectacular pecs ballooned into two globes of pure power, while my forearms flare in terms of both muscle and veins. For good measure I flexed my legs too, just to complete the image of the god looking down upon the weak man. “Just some new jeans and a scarf. October is just around the corner...don’t wanna be cold now, do I…” he said, looking a little more nervous by the sight of my stance. He knew of course that I would never hurt him, but it was still fun to laud some power over him. “As long as you don’t spend more than a hundred. I want more food in this house before the end of the week” I said, patting Dad affectionately on the head. “Yes!” exclaimed Dad triumphantly, “Absolutely son, no more than a hundred”. After I consumed my feast of a breakfast at an alarming rate, I headed out into the back garden for some early morning light exercise while Dad got to the cleaning. I approached a beaten down looking SUV. No bothering to stretch (because I didn’t need to), I squatted down, grabbed the SUV at two points along its underside, and stood back up. The entire vehicle came with me. I began to curl the SUV like it was nothing more than a fifty bound barbell. I was only doing this just for the sake of waking my body up. I actually began to daydream a small bit as I effortlessly pumped the vehicle up and down. It used to belong to Dad, before he got a new one. He was more than happy to let me have it. After a few minutes of this, I dropped the SUV with a bang. I sighed as I looked down at it, bored by its inability to stimulate my imagination. However, my arms had flared up with an almost inhuman pump. Thanks to my genetics, only the smallest amount of exercise was necessary for me to maintain by perfect physiques, and the superhuman strength that lay within. Out of sheer boredom I began to poke holes in the SUV’s exterior with just my index finger. I did find it satisfying to watch my finger sink in and out of the metal like it was a hot knife carving through butter. At one point I simply grabbed a handful of a door and easily tore it off the vehicle completely. I amused myself as I mangled and deformed the lump of metal in my hand, like an infant would manipulate playdough. “Looking good Jake!” called out a voice from behind me. I turned to see Mr. Roberts standing on his side of the fence that separated my house’s garden from his. Mr. Roberts was an elderly, kind man who had lived next door all my life. He had watched me grow, and always took the time to compliment me on my body and strength. “Hi Mr. Roberts” I said as I swaggered my way over to them fence. I made sure to flex my muscles as I walked, just to demonstrate the level of power that was approaching him. Not to mention that fact that I was still crushing and mangling the metal lump in my hand like a stress ball. “Well look at you!” said Mr. Roberts as he surveyed my glorious body. I was still only wearing my boxers, so pretty much everything could be easily seen. “Yeah, just doing a bit of weight training” I said, and started bouncing my pecs as I looked down at them. Instead of a light jiggle, I opted for a more vigorous bounce. It always amazed even me how still the rest of my body was as my pecs danced. “Stunning” whispered Mr. Roberts in a reverent tone as he reached over the fence to place one of his small, feeble hands on the nearest pec. He had always loved the smoothness of my muscles. And I never had a problem with him feeling any damn part of me that he wanted. “So how are you this morning, Mr. Roberts?” I asked, striking a front lat spread for his entertainment. “Good” he said as he ran his fingers along one of my biceps. I switched to a most muscular to help accommodate his desire to worship my arms. “But I was hoping that you’d be available to help me with something” he said, as he placed his hand in mine. Mr. Roberts always enjoyed holding my hand, probably because they were so warm, and he was more vulnerable to the cold. “Sure” I said, closing my whole hand around his gently, running my thumb lightly over the back. “I was hoping you could turn my car around for me. In my old age I’ve become…less able for precise reversing” he said, and we both laughed. From a standing position, I bent my knees, flexed both my quads and calves, and cleared the four-foot fence in a single bound, landing perfectly on the other side beside Mr. Roberts. “Goodness me!” he said, beaming at my display of athleticism, and delighted that I was now that bit closer to him. I took his hand gently in mine, and allowed him to lead me to his car that was parked at the side of his house. I couldn’t help but notice just how small and weak he was. He was short than Dad, and no doubt frail from old age. We were walking so slowly because of him. “Here Mr. Roberts” I said, as I effortlessly scooped the man up into one of my arms. He gasped as my casual display of strength. “Save your energy” I said, as I nestled him into my powerful chest. “Thank you Jake” he said with a tone of sincerity, and began to run a hand over my pecs once again. Once we got to his car, I gently set him down and gave him a quick hug, enveloping him in my powerful arms (which he happily felt up during the hug). “Now then” I said. I approached the car and promptly hauled the front half off the ground with a single tug of my left arm. I could hear Mr. Roberts gasp again behind me. I walked my hand along the bottom of the vehicle, slowly raising the back half, until the entire thing was above my head. A quick one-eighty degree turn, and it was facing the way Mr. Roberts wanted it to be. I easily and gently place the car back on the ground. Mr. Roberts was standing there, slack-jawed from the sight of my superhuman strength. Not to mention that his pants was tenting; impressive for a man of his age. I decided to help him out. Side-chest. Double biceps. Front lat spread followed by a back lat spread. Another pec bounce. Every single bit of exquisite curvature and masculine sex appeal my body had to offer I put in display for Mr. Roberts. My muscles flared and flexed with power and beauty. I turned my back to him and began twerking. My bulbous glutes bounced sensually. Not even my skin-tight boxers could hold them down. I ended the routine with another side chest. I then marched towards Mr. Roberts with supreme confidence. Mr. Roberts was shaking, still slack-jawed, and in awe of my appearance. He was leaving out this low, continuous moaning sound. I placed my large hands on his scrawny shoulders. I leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Cum for me”. Mr. Roberts let out a moan of ecstasy as a large, dark wet patch appeared at the front of his trousers. I fell forward into my arms which easily supported him. By the sounds (and feel) of it, he was experiencing multiple orgasms. I carried his limp and exhausted body into his house, and laid him down gently onto his living room sofa. His feeble hands took one last feel of my muscles (my shoulders and triceps to be exact) before he finally passed out, and began to sleep peacefully. His trousers were completely soaked. I left his house and headed back towards the SUV, leaping over the fence once again. Damn it felt good to have great genetics.
  24. rmorris

    The Arab Prince

    This is my first ever written story published here. I have actually written one story before, but it was lost when my old laptop gave up. I've been hesitant to put anything here as I don't want my story telling getting too judged, but, this is an idea which is so hot to me, I just had to share. I hope you all enjoy, and any feedback is much appreciated, or feel free to drop me a message. “So, anything else that needs discussing before the next news meeting?” My editor asks. “Umm, well, is there anything I can be focussing on?” My voice slightly cracks, I’ve only been at the BBC offices for a few weeks but I’m trying to make myself come off as keen, but not too keen that everyone around me hates me and thinks I’m going to gun for their job. The World Service has been through some really, really tough months, job cuts, redundancies, people moving abroad to other networks, the BBC was not the place everyone wanted to work anymore, and certainly a young 25 year old upstart like me joining the most respected name in news worldwide might rub some up the wrong way. My game plan was simple, move in the right direction but slowly, and never appear too fast or eager. I genuinely wasn’t there to steal anyone’s job, certainly not deliberately. “Actually, there’s something we want you to do, wait behind.” The room vacated, everyone doing awkward British nods and smiles at each other as they left to complete their tasks. “We’re impressed, you’re progressing well,” she says, “so we’ve got a small interview we’d like you to do, but it is an important one, and it’s a foreign assignment so it’s a good first job.” “Oh wow, okay,” I pause, “go on.” “Prince Abdul Al-Aziz Al-Hamza is shortly to take over the small island nation of Thazzan,” she starts. “Isn’t that the country which has insanely high oil revenues but doesn’t really look after its people?” “Oh yes,” she says, “we’d like you to go there and interview him. His father’s in his dying days and he’s willing to give one radio interview, specifically radio, we don’t know why, to discuss what’s next for his country.” This was a perfect scoop, I mean, it was going to be boring as hell, but good. By boring as hell, I mean there would be no chance for real questions. Interviews with dictators and their sons always followed the same format and went on the same lines, how thrilled the people are to have them and how many changes they have planned for the country. No-one actually ever takes these kinds of things seriously. “I’m a bit concerned about LGBT rights,” I say, after a few moments of pondering. “They’re inviting you, it’s not going to be a problem, in fact I’ve already checked that,” she replies. “Wait you what?” I ask, rather startled. “You’re our only free reporter, so I was upfront about it,” she replies, calmly, I forget my editor has been doing this for years, “we used to check this kind of thing with reporters in other slightly homophobic countries nearby, it’s standard practice.” “How is that, remotely standard practice?” I ask, blood pressure raised. “Because then there’s a record that we checked that it was fine for you to go as a gay man, actually it protects you from being arrested for debauchery if they were to find out you were while you’re there.” “The last thing I’m going to do is hook up with some guy from a country where it’s so repressed and I can get thrown in jail for it,” I say, almost losing my temper, but, then remembering this is the person in charge of assignments, “but thank you for your concern,” I add, through slightly gritted teeth. “Can you leave this evening? It’s either this evening or an early morning flight I’m afraid. You can leave the office now. We’ve planned around 4 days for you there, there’s a visit to some oil refineries, some oil treatment works, some oil fields, and then the final day is the interview itself,” she says, “did you know the country’s economy is almost entirely dependent on oil?” She asks, with a wry smile. “I could have guessed.” I say. ******************************************** 24 hours later and I wake up my first day in Thazzan. The air conditioning perfect, the hotel nice, the BBC could never afford a really, really nice hotel, especially for an inexperienced reporter like me, but it was comfortable. Certainly more comfortable than most hotels around the M25, although that’s not saying much. My first visit to an oil field was boring, as I guessed all the visits would be. I ended up having a chat with the manager as we were wrapping up. Oil was booming, he was telling me, no he wasn’t concerned about the sudden drop in oil in the coming decades as the country was investing now, yes he was very confident in the new Prince. “He telephones in to our board meetings across the company,” he said, excitedly. “Oh so he is more hands on than most bosses?” I ask. “Oh, absolutely,” he says, “much better than in neighbouring countries. He always dials in and he’s very good at giving direction, after all, the country shares the oil wealth so we have to do it for the benefit of all.” He replies. It’s worth pointing out at this point that corruption indexes but Thazzan at one of the worst in the world for corruption, and the UN has repeatedly said that even though they have all this oil wealth, it is not trickling down to the people. Pleas have been made repeatedly to have the wealth shared more effectively, it’s all gone unheeded. I look up from his desk, sure enough, there was a smiling Prince Al-Hamza, probably embezzling huge amounts of this money for himself, not that the people would ever know. I hated myself for thinking this, in a country of such poor gay rights, but he was hot. The guy was hot. His Excellency, or whatever his formal title was, was hot. He had the kind of manicured facial hair and beautiful dark brown eyes that really turned me on to Arab men. Not one guy so far had really piqued my interest, but the Prince did. “Ah yes, it is his official portrait, we are all very pleased with him,” the manager grinned. I notice the date mark in the plaque next to his smiling image. “2008?” I ask. “Yes, why?” he asks. “That’s ten years ago.” “It is the most recent official portrait, he is twenty there, if something more recent comes, then we all have to change. We used to change them once every six months.” “Oh right, so does he look like that now? I mean, during your teleconferences?” “Oh no, you misunderstand, we never see him, he calls in on the phone.” This struck me as odd. I sat back in my chair and looked at the image of the attractive Prince in full Thazzan flowing white robes of national dress. It also made me wonder why the man had specifically asked for a radio interview with the World Service, any Prince on a good PR job would be after BBC World News on TV, not radio. TV had a better reach and could be used on YouTube, radio, not so much. “Have you ever seen him? Met him? He’s nice?” I ask, digging. “Nope, but he is a very kind man, he cares deeply about the people,” says the manager, “sometimes when oil revenues fall, he will call me personally and discuss.” “So he’s never visited your oil field?” “A Prince is far too busy for something like that, he has many diplomatic things to attend and people to look after, I would not expect him to come visit.” “But it’s your country’s main source of revenue?” I ask. “Of course!” He replies, he’s not going to comment further. I let his last two words hang in the air briefly, most interviewees will almost always talk more when you leave the room quiet, this man, not so. Perfectly trained in PR. The two officials standing near the exit to the office probably didn’t help either, while they were there ostensibly to help me around, they were almost certainly there to make sure all my visits were perfect. With that, I left the facility. ************************************** My final day had arrived, this afternoon I was told I had an hour with the Prince, to ask him what I wanted. He wouldn’t answer any question we hadn’t planned from the news team, but we could at least try. He would give highly scripted answers to complex questions and that would be done. I didn’t know why the BBC was going through with this total farce of an interview, but there we are. I was taken to the royal palace at 1pm. The huge, vast building opened up like an oasis in the desert as we drove nearer. An enormous monolith dedicated to housing the ruling family, it had hundreds of acres of perfectly manicured grounds and guards every few metres. I was shown into a big room, then another big room, and finally another big room. I was sat down at a table with a phone on it. “The Prince will talk shortly.” I was assured by a small man in perfectly fitted attire. I got ready to read through my notes for the upcoming questions, I got out my radio microphone, I worked out the best lines of attack. I thought I’d start out slow and ask about oil revenues, then start asking why the country was still not dealing with its poverty effectively. The phone rang. I looked around, but I was in this empty space alone. I gingerly picked up the receiver. “Hello?” I asked, my voice cracked slightly, I needed to drink more, the country was too hot. “Hello, I believe you have some questions for me,” came a slightly deep, immaculately accented English from the other end of the phone. My mouth went immediately dry. “Your Excellency! I didn’t realise we weren’t doing this in person?” “I am a very busy man. You must understand.” “I do, I do,” I say, biting my tongue, before realising I needed to state the obvious, “how am I supposed to do a radio interview over the phone?” “My people will record it,” he says, assuredly, here’s a man no-one has ever said no to. “I can’t do that,” I say, holding back a frog in my throat, “BBC guidelines, I have to record it myself.” “Why?” “You could tamper with the recording, it has happened.” A deep laugh came from the other end of the receiver. “Surely not?” he asks. “Yes.” I reply. “But you would know if it had been edited, you’ll have done the interview.” “Yes but that isn’t the point.” “Okay so what is your first question?” He asks, pointedly. “No, no, I’m really sorry, I have to insist, I have to interview you in person. There’s no point in me being sent all the way here in order to get audio from a telephone recording, I could do that in London.” “London is a beautiful city,” he said, randomly. “Yes,” I say, slightly caught off guard, “it is.” “I have many houses there, would you like to know how many?” “Yes, actually,” I say. “A few, Knightsbridge and Belgravia, all of my neighbouring royal families have houses in the same areas, you know, it’s a second home for us, so many of us in the Middle East are educated in London or around London, we like the UK.” Whilst this is interesting, I get what he’s trying to do. Distraction techniques don’t work with me. “I can’t do the interview like this. It has to be in person.” There’s a loud sigh let out on the other end. Then, some barking of Arabic at an assistant. “Wait,” he says. More Arabic is exchanged. A second voice enters his room and more Arabic is discussed. They have a slightly politer form of Arabic in Thazzan, clearly, more like Lebanese, softer, not the harsh guttural tones of Saudi Arabia. A new voice joins the line. “Hello, I am chief lawyer and legal officer here at the palace.” “Oh hello,” I say, just a trifle taken aback from this new development in proceedings. “It is highly against protocol to let people meet the Prince himself.” “I know, but it is also highly against protocol to even invite foreign journalists to talk to your officials, so this is a rather new day for you, isn’t it?” I say, smirking slightly at the way I am holding myself, surprising myself, really. A long sigh is let out. “We can let you see him,” he continues, “but you don’t have a camera, do you?” “Well I’ve got my phone.” “Surrender the phone, you need to hand us everything bar the microphone and any notes you may need.” “Okay.” “There’s also a contract you need to sign, what you in the west call a non-disclosure agreement, you do not discuss the Prince’s appearance with anyone, not even your colleagues or direct bosses.” “What?” “It is radio isn’t it?” “Yes.” “Then this is not a problem, the contract should be there now, it’s standard royal protocol to not discuss the Prince’s appearance.” “Why?” I struggled to hold back laughter, this was bizarre protocol. “I cannot comment, sign the form, you will see him.” “Thank you.” I say, to his rather curt previous remark. The perfectly dressed assistant who showed me to the table comes back in, this time a gold tray with a piece of paper is handed over, as well as a fountain pen. “Please sign,” he says, bowing. I read through it, it is literally nothing else other than that I must not discuss his appearance with anyone, no hidden clauses, nothing confusing, just that one stipulation. I shrug and sign, if this is going to give me the high quality audio interview we need, that’ll be it. “Please,” he gestures frantically, “leave this room, turn right, walk to the end of the corridor, it is the last door on the right.” I really didn’t need those instructions as a man had now come to stand next to me, and started walking very closely beside me. He was hot, too. I needed to focus. ******************************************************** The doors clicked open upon my approach, but no-one else was going into the room with me. They swung open and I walked in. The room was markedly cooler than the rest of the palace. To the left, at least twenty floor to ceiling windows looked over a perfectly manicured garden being tended to by a multitude of staff. I walked in, distracted by the windows and what they had to show. There didn’t appear to be anyone in the room, I meandered slowly towards the vast view of the courtyard, and the gardens beyond. “Hello?” I ask. My voice dying in the room as it bounced off the walls and marble floors. Nothing. “Hello?” I say, voice slightly raised. I hear footsteps and two men are now leaving the room behind me, the doors click shut. I frown. I hear heavy footsteps, ones more sounding like a rhino crossing the perfectly varnished, clean, white floor. I see a broad man approaching in a beautiful crisp, white national dress. I say broad, he’s across the room and I can see that he is built like a tank. He continues to walk heavily toward me, each step making a noticeable sound on the floor. This is a man who works out. I see it is the Prince, he has barely changed facially, but there are some noticeable changes. He extends an arm to shake my hand and smiles broadly, at which point I notice his neck is almost thicker than his head. Even under the free-flowing gowns of the Arabian Peninsula, it is obvious that this man works out, all the time. He places his large hand into mine and says the Arabic for welcome, I extend the same courtesy back. As he walks towards me, one leg is being placed purposefully in front of the other, clearly due to huge legs. The arms are stretching at his national dress, and it is by no means small. “It is nicer to see you in person,” he says, “my people were very talkative with your editor, I have heard much about you, you have been in the BBC long?” That perfectly accented English makes me weak at the knees, he has a perfectly manicured beard and immaculate teeth, the deep brown eyes make me melt and that thick neck makes me swoon, I wonder what he’s packing underneath the robes. “A couple of years,” I say, looking solidly at his neck. “You will see I am different to portraits, I am more of a man now,” he smiles. “I can see there have been some changes,” I reply. ***************************************** He turned his back to me, his huge, broad back stretching at the seams of the otherwise flowing robe. He walks off to a couple of extremely comfortable looking chairs at the other side of the room, still near the windows. I’m focusing on how heavy his footfall is with each step, his purposeful gait gives the air of someone who is used to dominating a room. He sits down, the chair creaks under his weight, I pretend not to notice. “I don’t have much time, I’m sure you’ll appreciate I am a busy man,” he says, straight away, rubbing his left hand with his right. “That’s fine, I want about half an hour with you, if that’s okay? Just to clear up all the questions the world media have.” “I completely understand, please, I will answer the best I can.” I look through my notes. “May we begin?” I ask. He nods and smiles. “Oil revenues are increasing, aren’t they, how do you use these to pay for the infrastructure of Thazzan?” “My kingdom is very fortunate to have been blessed with such resources to help us out. We have historically always struggled with our economy, imports and exports. It is just one huge export, but it helps out my country hugely, we are moving into the 21st century.” “Do you think the country could be doing any better?” I ask, trying to look at his arm slyly while he rubs his mouth with his right hand in thinking. “I think we have historically had problems with corruption, from previous administrations before my branch of the family came to power, we had big problems.” “What do you say to people who say that the country still has too many problems, too much poverty, for one which last year was estimated to make a few billion dollars a day in selling oil?” He shifts in his chair, it creaks again, he pushes his head back, his neck looks as though he just flexed it, is he trying to intimidate me? “Of course there will always be these problems, but in a Muslim society, we do the best we can to help those in need, I hope that these problems will continue to be eradicated, any poverty is too much poverty.” He shifts in his chair again, he looks uncomfortable. I think he doesn’t like asking questions from a media which actually searches. This is not the fawning state media he’ll be used to. “What are you doing to promote tourism? I understand you are bidding for worldwide sporting events?” He looks relieved at this question. “We are bidding for the World Cup, and for more sports to take place here, we need to boost our economy further with tourism and to show the correct Arab culture around the world, you know, Arabs are seen as so hospitable, yet everyone just associates us with terror attacks, it is awful.” The chair lets out a larger creak as he shifts again, he takes a deep breath. “In terms of your tourism economy, what -“ “Stop,” he interrupts. I momentarily pause, still looking at my notes, rather taken aback by his interjection. He reaches forward and rips the batteries out of my recorder, his huge arms at work under that national dress make me do a double take. “I am sorry, I am not feeling well, I had a brief illness last week, and I thought I would be okay, but I just need to get some water. This is off the record, illness is something my people would not associate with me.” I’m rather taken aback by the admission here, but pause. It’s highly unusual, but if he wasn’t feeling that well at the beginning of the interview then why did he proceed anyway? I ask him this. “I thought I’d be okay, but…” he lets out a long sigh, I notice the chair is creaking again, surely he can afford better chairs, “pass me some water.” He gestures at an ornate table, about five metres away, it has two huge pitchers of water on it and seven glasses. I walk over and pour some out. Hopefully we can bond over me helping him. I have my back turned to him and I hear another creak, he lets out a low groan. He isn’t going to be unwell is he? I can’t be accused of trying to poison him, can I? Is this a trap? I suddenly realise this man knows I’m gay in a highly homophobic country, is asking me to pour him water and hand him it, he could accuse me of all kinds of things, there are literally no staff in here. I don’t carry poison, but what can they accuse me of? I turn back around to face him, he’s sweating. “Are you okay? Should I get staff?” “No, honestly,” he lets out a huge burp, covering his mouth, swearing under his breath in Arabic, “I need some water.” He shifts back in his chair, then more upright, both times the chair makes the loudest squeaks and creaks yet. I rush back with two glasses of water. He has some beads of sweat forming on his forehead. This has to be real, he can’t be faking it at this point. He gulps down both glasses. His face is red, sweaty. “Can you stay longer? We may have to reschedule, I think,” he says. “Yes of course I can, what -“ I’m interrupted by the sound of ripping fabric. His eyes let out a look of panic, briefly, locking straight on to mine. I have no idea what to say, the pause hangs there immediately after the ripping. He continues to stare at me, rabbit in the headlights, as I notice the seams on his shoulders are giving way, the previous flowing robe now bursting at the seams. We both continue to stare at each other. In the corner of my eye I can see the seams getting wider on his shoulders. “Are you -“ I’m speechless beyond that, I don’t know what to say. I’m standing in front of him in the chair, staring. He continues to stare at me, almost completely vacantly at this point, but still panic-stricken. There’s no more words to be formed, I fantasise about this kind of thing all the time, every day, but is it actually happening? Had I finally gained the ability I had always wanted to have? This is the kind of thing I read about on muscle fantasy forums every night, night after night, after work, one handed typing, as I read hot stories of men growing. But this guy is doing it actually in front of me. This isn’t a wet dream. He lets out a deep breath and burps again, says something else under his breath in Arabic. I, automatically, in my British sentiment, excuse him. He thanks me under his breath. The pregnant pause continues, it’s unbearable, I want to watch him grow but I can’t believe it’s happening. There’s no batteries in my microphone, I can’t take notes. I just continue to look at his face. He continues to take in great gulps of air, a bead of sweat forming at the end of his nose and another trickling down the left side of his face. Finally, both stretches of fabric covering his shoulders give way and tear. At this point I sit down, my burgeoning erection had been going since I realised that this was happening, and that he wasn’t actually unwell. He smirks, gently. “You like this, don’t you?” He says, absent-mindedly rubbing his exposed left shoulder with his right hand. I can’t reply. I am staring. My boxers are wet. “Being trapped in such a small, island nation with only a few hundred thousand people and such bad gay rights, I was thrilled to find out a gay reporter was coming.” My mouth is dry. The chair creaks again, he didn’t shift in it this time. “Imagine how surprised I was to find that the security detail provided to you by my security services included that you were a member of the muscle growth forum?” Rumbled. I feel the colour drain from my face. I really want a glass of water now. “When we got into your account, had a look through, you’ve always dreamed of being the guy who encourages, stays the same while his partner gets bigger,” he continues. “I have to say, when I was handed the report by my special security services, and I came across that section in the online activity chapter, I knew I had found the man for me,” he groans under his breath and throws his head back, closing his eyes while something else rips elsewhere. My mouth is as dry as the desert outside. I struggle to prevent my hands shaking wildly. “I bet you want to know why poverty is so bad in my country, why healthcare is so bad,” he says, opening his eyes, staring at me again, those deep, beautiful eyes. I nod, mouth open, catching flies. “I have always wanted this,” he says, grunting a bit at the ‘this’, “ever since I was a child, I wanted to be bigger and better than everyone, I went to school at a private institution in England, I could never become the rugby player I wanted to be. “I have always felt like the only one in the world, who wanted this, like you do, but for me. But then I realised, I’m coming to power, let’s spend my family wealth on the one thing I want, I can be in charge of the government, let’s change government research and development from medical research to muscle.” The chair underneath him lets out two staccatos of creaking. He groans a bit. “My family makes billions per day, of course I use it for the people, and some offshore, but at least one billion of that goes into this.” He stands up, the robe falls to the floor, I involuntarily make a sound like the slut for muscle I’ve always known I have been. “You are literally looking at the only guy in the world who can grow, and grow on command. I have pills, I popped some before you came in, I take them when I want, they’re not perfect, I rarely go out in public, sometimes the growth takes over, so I rule from my palaces.” I look at the striations of muscle across his body, the tensing and flexing, the beads of sweat dripping down his hairy chest and arms, the only clothing he still has on are his undergarments, sandals and his headwear. He reaches out a hand to me, and pulls me out of the chair, I’m weak at the knees. His hands lead me to put my left hand on his chest, my right on his left arm, he tenses both areas. I feel a wet patch forming. “No-one is allowed to touch me except family, that’s a sackable offence in royal palaces,” he continues, “but you, you have always wanted this, you don’t want to admit it but a multi-billionaire prince who can also grow must also be something you want.” He flexes his left arm, I realise my voice box is involuntarily engaged as I let out a huge, sudden breath, I feel my body tense all over. I came. He looks at my now sticky trousers. “Well, well, well, your profile was not fake.” “I’m so sorry,” I say, shakily, sweating, barely able to get a word out, voice cracking. “Why are you apologising?” I stare, dumbly, I can’t take the situation in. “When you came in I was around 270lbs, I’m around 6’3, at this point I’m usually 100lbs more than that, there’s more to go, yet.” This makes me acknowledge the current situation and regain some ground. “How big do you,” I say, I pause to run my tongue round my mouth, “how big do you go?” “Well I only took a couple, so, erm, 200lbs more? I’ll end up somewhere around 500, it’s not an exact science.” My dick is hard again. Throughout all of this, I have noticed how huge his penis is, but there’s been so much else to take in. “And you’re hard again! Oh this will be fun,” he playfully states. He lowers his under robe, a huge, footlong, and thick as a wrist dick springs out, balls the size of small lemons. “You may touch elsewhere, I have no intention of firing you,” he flashes a shark-like grin. ********************************** I gingerly touch his huge, throbbing cock with my hands, left hand towards the hilt, right hand towards the head. I push the skin back towards the hilt and forth towards me, I start gently jacking him. “I love that you’re into this,” he grunts, “I usually have to get prostitutes, no-one likes a man to be this size.” I try and steady my breath, I want to have a calm conversation and not get too ahead of myself. “This is something I’ve noticed, there’s some sizes that most people just think are too much -“ I start to say. “As if there’s a too much,” he says, before groaning again under his breath. “I couldn’t agree with you more,” I say. I grip his huge dick slightly more with my right hand, keeping the rhythm going, while playing with his enormous balls. “Once I finish I usually start shrinking a bit back to my normal size,” he says, “sometimes it takes a few extra hours to reduce down.” “Your normal size is something I was impressed by,” I reply. “Oh believe me, it can go so much more than that,” he says, smirking, “actually, I’m taking the stuff so often it seems to have a residual effect, my smaller sizes are much larger than they used to be.” He flexes his hairy pecs, I moan and bury my face in them. He lets out a moan of approval. As I rub the left side of my face into his pecs, he raises his left arm and shows me its progress. I groan involuntarily, lean over and start kissing the huge growing bicep and tree trunk arm. He’s even thicker and bigger than he was before. “I like food too much to be a ripped god, but I guess from your messages on your muscle growth profile you like men beefier anyway,” he says, his voice has now definitely dropped an octave. “Size and mass are my thing,” I say, leaning over to kiss his now much enlarged arms. “You’re perfect,” he says. I hear a low rumble come out of his chest as his body expands further. “I must be getting close to the 400lb mark,” he adds. I step back, my hand still working his huge, perfectly cut and girthy footlong. He has expanded. He’s now starting to seriously take up my view of the room behind him, even when I step back. “Oh my god,” i whimper, under my breath. “So you’re enjoying this?” He flashes me a grin with those beautiful, perfect teeth. His eyes catch the light streaming in through the windows. The dark brown gets turned to a slightly reflective brown in the sun. He’s perfect. He lets out a low moan as I run my tongue along my lips. His huge arms envelope my back and he holds me tight to his huge chest. My face is buried in between the crevice of his impossible pecs. His slabs of abs, not super defined, but there, press into my stomach beneath my shirt. He squeezes me harder and I let out an involuntary whine. He gets his big hands under my armpits and lifts me just above the ground so we are eye to eye. “I told you I get bigger,” he says, his eyes looking at his enormous biceps. I can see them actually swelling, now that he’s holding me. Every pump of his heart is leading the muscles to engorge slightly more. In this position, hovering just a foot above the ground, his huge body visibly expanding in front of me, I feel something I didn’t want to feel again this quickly. My dick starts tensing incredibly hard, and before I know it, my cream trousers are once again coated on the inside. He looks at me closely as I groan under my breath. Then he realises. “Again?” He says, his voice even deeper than before. Those perfect teeth make another appearance in between smiling lips. My face flushes and I nod. He puts me down and starts unbuttoning my shirt and undoes my belt as I take off my clothes hurriedly. He gets to my boxers and runs his fingers along the huge wet patch. I’ve always been proud of how much I can cum. He rubs his fingers into it, and takes them to his mouth, and licks gingerly. “You taste good, actually,” he says, hesitantly. I hear him groan slightly under his breath. The traps and his neck now have no definite start or end point. He reaches out his hands and forces off my shoes, boxers and socks. I stand naked, in front of the Prince of Thazzan, he at around 450lbs I must guess by now, just his undergarments on, torn clothes on the floor, sandals and head garment still on. He holds me close to him again, my back clicks slightly as he squeezes me, I whine again. He kicks off his sandals and pushes me to my knees. He bends his huge body down slightly to lower the undergarment to his ankles and slaps his heavy dick across my face. His hands connected to his huge swelling arms wrap around the back of my head and force the dick between my lips. He gets two thirds in and I gag. My jaw is fully relaxed as it’s the only way to ensure I don’t bite any part of it. He pulls my head back and then fully back into his dick. It gets around 9” in. I gag again. I look up at him, eyes watering, his eyes and eyebrows just visible beyond his pec shelf and huge stomach. “I’m going to have to train you,” he growls. I feel my dick start to helplessly tense again. It’s looking up at his huge body that’s doing it. I beg internally for it not to happen as his huge dick tries to explore my mouth further and work further down my throat. I try and pull my head back but it’s useless to try something like that when there’s a 480lbs muscle guy restraining you. I close my eyes as they water, tears streaming down my face as I let out a moan on his dick and I shoot across the marble. I open my eyes and look up at him through the tears, dick still firmly lodged down my throat, my breathing partially constricted on it. He smirks, “you’re passing all my tests.” He grabs me under the armpits again and lifts me up, puts me down on the ground and my feet land in my own sticky mess. Great. He takes two steps back and I can feel every bit through the marble. “It’s solid foundations beneath this, you know,” he boasts, “that’s how heavy I am.” He gets on to the floor, when his hands touch the floor I feel reverberations too. “Pass me a pillow,” he says, I dumbly oblige, standing in my own cum. “Lie down, head on the pillow,” he growls. I get on my front on the cool marble floor as he stands up. Bones and joints click in his body. “On your back. I want to see you when I do this.” I dread what’s coming. He’s a monster. I knew this was going to happen but I’m still not prepared for it in the slightest. He lifts me legs with such effort as he gets on his knees, and the floor shakes, that I feel my ass and body being lifted up, up to my neck. “Oops,” he grunts, “you weigh nothing now.” He sits my feet on his shoulders and look up. I’ve never been more turned on. If I tilt my head left or right he still dominates my view. I feel the pain as my hole is stretched beyond belief. His now 500lb body lowering into me. Every inch feels like six with the added girth and pain. I am paralytic from pain and can’t even scream. My mouth is open but no sound comes out. He lowers his head right up to mine, forcing my legs back into a position I didn’t think possible, but his weight made inevitable. He kisses me on the lips, before moving his mouth to my ear. “This is my biggest, do you like?” he rumbles. He raises himself back up as his dick starts working in and out of my hole. I just want it to be over. He can train me, but the pain is too much. It would take years to adjust to a dick like this. I finally find my breath and let out a yelp of pain. He puts his right hand beside my head, I feel the ground shake, and his left hand covers my mouth entirely. “Shhhh,” he says, “I thought you liked guys my size,” he smiles. He removes his left hand from my mouth and flexes his left arm in front of me. My hands reach out for his arm like a thirsty person reaching for water and I realise both of my hands have no chance of ever being able to reach around his huge tree trunk arms. One hand barely covers a quarter of the circumference. “Do you like guys my size?” He asks, flexing his hulk-like left arm as I reach at it like a pathetic kitten. “Yes,” I moan, in between trying to breathe when not all of the 12 inches are inside. “This is two pills,” he gives me a wide grin, “I’ve got an unlimited supply,” he continues. I moan in approval, my hands now roaming over his impossibly huge, hairy chest and body. “I can grow like this any time I want,” he continues, as I continue to feel his burgeoning form, “any time,” he repeats. His thrusts get stronger, heavier, I feel his dick tensing inside my hole. “If it were up to me I’d be big like this all the time,” he says, I feel my dick starting to tense again involuntarily, I know what’s coming. “I want to be bigger than this, and I can get bigger than this any time I want, I only want to be this kind of size, only you understand,” he lets out a load groan and I feel what’s coming. His dick is pulsing hard deep inside my gut. “I have no limit!” I yell. I feel my hole suddenly flooded with sperm, his orgasms seem to actually be getting stronger. He lets out a deep, masculine roar as he collapses onto me, my legs flexed fully back beside my head. My dick tenses again and pumps out what it can from the very active half an hour it’s had. His orgasms seem to subside slightly before he groans into the pillow again, his full 500lbs of weight is seriously restricting my breathing and I start to panic slightly. I feel his huge strong dick continue to pump and tense inside me before he lets out a slightly higher pitched grunt and he feels less heavy on me. We lie there, breathing heavily.
  25. This story uses a character from @MadMutter, Jolias (at his request, so yes I have his agreement), this is what he looks like if you have never seen him (in this story, his body was not so muscular at the beginning): https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DzT340qWoAgJVhF.jpg https://www.deviantart.com/madmutter/art/Jolias-Ready-for-Raccoon-City-784139560 And the other character, his boyfriend, is Max (brown hair, glasses). I planned to post the full story in one time but it would takes too much time. This story should have 7 or 8 chapters so no, it's not finished. I hope it will meet your expectations. As usual, feedbacks are welcome ! Enjoy ! Jolias and Max: The cock ring Level 1: From zero to fit Max was in the Jolias's bedroom, lying on his boyfriend, their lips were stuck and their tongues were dancing, when suddenly... I was lying in the Jolias's bed, with Jolias, well, rather ON Jolias, we were in the middle of a kissing session. Gooooosh I loved these kissing sessions, to taste each other's saliva, feeling our tongues dance. Then suddenly... *DING DONG* I stopped to kiss Jolias and looked towards the door. Hu ? Who is it ? "Oh crap !" replied Jolias. "I really hope that this my package ! I've been waiting for it for weeks ! Jolias got up, quickly put back his tshirt. Craaaaaaaap he was so beautiful, this amazing body, slighty muscular, this tanned skin. I fell in love every time I looked at him ! Jolias went to the front door to see who it was. "... FUCK YES ! IT'S HIM !!" he yelled. Excited, he quickly opened the door ! "Hello ! A package for M. Jo..." "Yes, it is for me !" asked quickly Jolias. Fuuuuck he was really excited ! I was wondering what he could expect promptly. It looked like a kid receiving his Christmas present. "Please sign here." asked the delivery boy. He hurriedly took the pen and signed. "Thank you very much. Have a good day !" said the delivery boy. "You too !" asked Jolias then he closed the door. "Oh YES ! I got it ! I got it ! I got it !" repeated Jolias, clearly very happy. To be so happy, it must have been very important ! "Dude, what's happening to you ? What is this package that makes you so excited ?" "Haha ! A little gift for both of us !" replied Jolias, in laughing. "A... gift ?" Jolias tore the package, not even taking care to open it properly as he was so impatient. And finally, he showed the gift. "TAAAAAADAAAAAAAAAAAA !!!" he yelled, by showing two rings. Huh ? Two rings, it is also excited just for that ? ....... OH FUCK ! Don't tell me he's going to propose to me ? "Eeeeehhhh.....rings ? You were so excited just for two rings ?" I wondered. "Jolias, are you... going to propose to me?" "Gnuh ? .... Ah no haha ! No no no hahahaha ! Nothing to do with a wedding, well that will come too of course but this is for something else ! It's not a ring that you have to wear on your finger" replied Jolias. "Huh ? To the ear then ?" "Nope !" "To the nose !" "Nope !" ".... FUck Jolias, Are you going to tell me what the fuck this is for?" I said, with a touch of annoyance but also intrigue. Jolias had a little smile. He pulled his shorts down and his underwear and passed his dick in the ring. "WHAT THE HELL ? Is it for... ?" Wait, was that for what I think it was? "Hahaha it's a cock ring !" A cock ring ? He was as excited about a fucking sex toy ? "Go ahead and put it on, I'll give you a demo." It was a ring, made of a slightly elastic material to fit the size of the dick. I put it on and placed it at the base of my cock. Gooosh it squeezes, as if someone was grabbing my dick. "Well... an now ?" I asked. Jolias was playing with his phone. "The nice thing about these is that they are..... connected !" He had barely finished his sentence when I suddenly felt intense vibrations at the base of my cock. It was as if I was masturbating myself but much stronger and more intense "AAAAAAAAAAAAH Fuck !!!! Fucking fuck !!! Crap ! HOLY CRAP ! What is this thing? OOOOoooOOOOOOOOOoooOHHHHHHHHH aaaAAAAAaaaaAAAAAaaaAAAAHHHHHHHH !!!!" "It's intense, right ?" In a few seconds I was already panting as if I had fucked for one hour. It sent me a wave of pleasure on wave of pleasure. "Crap Jolias ! I think I will... I will....I...aaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!!!!!!!!!!!" My cock started to spit its white liquid, a dozen charges that splashed on the ground. Fuck, I had rarely come like this, not so fast !!! "Ha.... ha..... ha....... ha..... ha...... ha" It only lasted a very short time and yet it was as if I had had an intense session of over an hour. "So, did you like it ," asked Jolias, in smiling. "Oh crap.... oh fucking crap..... it was... it was... intense !" "Hahaha ! Yes, the first time surprised me too ! And as you saw we can control it via an app ! I actually thought we could have fun with this". I could feel a shiver of lust in his last sentence. "Have you ever been turned on in the middle of the day and felt like having a little session ? But not being able to satisfy you because it would be too visible ? Well, with this we can !! Well on the other hand, you'll have to try to refrain from screaming and hide your wet patch hahahahaha !! And to "spice up" the game, because you know I love to eat VERY spicy food, as they are connected, why wouldn't each one control the other's ring. Wouldn't that be fun hehehehe ?" I must admit that the idea was very fun but on the other hand it would be much less nice if everyone understood that you were in the middle of orgasm. But I must say that what I loved about, was this sexual tension that we maintained it made our sexual relations very much more intense and enjoyable. And if there was one thing he was good at, it was coming up with ideas to push lust even further. And this was his latest find. "Yep, we can try this !" I said. "Perfect !" he replied, not hiding his joy. Jolias drop down his short and released his "monster". Craaaaaaaap ! I think I'll never get used to this amazing view. Long, thick, venous, his member was in the image of his body: perfectly perfect ! He put the ring around his cock. "Max, give me your phone." I gave him, he fiddled few seconds then: "....... here it is, it's installed ! Just open the app, select the ring and enter the password. Well, I wouldn't want anyone else playing with my dick hahahaha !" "What's the password ?" "makemecum123" "......." "Well... we check that it works ?" said Jolias, in smiling. I opened the app, I selected the ring and I entered the password. As soon as I did, a small light lit up on the ring. "Oh crap ! aaaaaaaaaaaahhh... fuck....ggnnnnnnaaaaaaaahhhh....it's...ooooooooooohh...so...aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh... gooooooood....aaaaAAAAAAAAaaaAAAAAHHH oooOooooOOOOooOOOOOHHHHH !!!!!!" Jolias was moaning about 15 seconds then.. "Oh CRAP !...I'm....aaaaaaaah....cumminNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH !!!!!!!!" Like me, his dick spat out its white juice. A dozen charges splashed on the ground. "ha......ha.....ha....ha.....ha....craaaaaaap....ha...ha...ha... it's even better than I imagined and damn, it's not going to be easy to hold back !" Jolias pulled up his short and watched the clock. "Well, I thin it's time to go to college... And (boy)friendly advice Max, take several underwear and pants in your bag, you're probably going to cream on some hahahaha !" "Hehe but look out Jolias... because I can return the favour hehehehe !" "Ah but I hope so !" The school was only about ten minutes on foot, on the way, I couldn't focus on other thing than this embracing sensation at the base of my cock. It wasn't unpleasant, I just wasn't used to it. Arf, the first course was philosophy. I dislike this course, the teacher was so boring. Jolias and I were still sitting next to each other, by the way, that was how I met him, I remember staring at him for several seconds and then when he noticed me, I couldn't look at him all the way, but my heart was racing, it was only the next time we started talking, he never told me but I'm sure he didn't sit there by chance. But today we decided to step aside, so that we could admire the other in action without appearing too suspicious. If we were seen moaning, next to each other, I think our notoriety would take a big hit. Craaaaaaaap, as planned, this course is sooooo boring... Discreetly, I took my phone and send a message to Jolias. *Man, this course is so boring ! Can't wait for the end !* Few seconds later, he replied. *Boring ? Even with... this ?* As soon as I finished reading the sentence, my eyes were widening: I felt an intense vibration at the base of my dick FUck ! Fucking fuck Jolias ! Not now dude ! And I received another message: *Hahahahaha you should see your face dude ! And I know what you are thinking: not now, right ? But this is war my dear Max hehe ! So...enjoy ! :)" Crap, fucking crap !!! If I was at home, I would have enjoyed it but not here, no way that I cum in course ! I closed my mouth and clenched my teeth. Oh fucking crap ! It was so good ! How do you want to resist to this ? I try to seem normal but inside, I was clenching my teeth to the max, I squeeze my fist and I'm sure you could see veins on my forehead. Fuck Max ! Don't come, don't moan, Don't come, don't moan, don't come, don't moan... and of course it was already over for the last one. "......NNggnhh............." ... and obviously during a moment of silence. "Are you alright Max ?" asked the teacher. CRAP he noticed ! I tried as best I could to answer... "...nnngh....yeah....yeah...just...a...slight indigestion....It's...it's..okay..." He looked at me in disbelief... and continued Oh gosh thanks ! I was looking towards Jolias: he was completely amused by the situation, unable to hide a slight laugh. Crap Jolias, my vegeance will be a dish best served cold, or rather a cum best served hot ! My face started to turn red, I couldn't take it anymore, I need to cum. I spread my legs so that my trousers don't stick to my underwear. I could resist for a few more seconds and then the floodgates opened. My cock was spraying my underwear of his white liquid. I tried to stay stoic and produce no sound. but I could be seen to have a slight spasm with each load. And if you find that easy, I invite you to try, no sound, no reaction: it's FUCKING hard. I don't know how many loads I shot, but my underwear was warm, soaked and above all sticky. Fortunately, I put tightening boxer, which helps to keep it out of the way. But fucking crap, I couldn't spend the rest of the day like this, especially since I feel like I shot more than usual, so... go toilets ! But for to not be suspicious, I asked the teacher. "Hem, sorry Mister, but I need to go 2 minutes at toilets." "You are a big boy now Max, no need to ask me but thanks, just don't disturb others" Ouf! This was one of the advantages of the college, be able to slip away whenever you want. if I had been in high school, it would have been a disaster. I went out quickly of the room, in trying to not show that I had flooded my underwear. Once in the toilet, I checked that there was no one, I would lock myself in a cabin and took off my trouser. ...... HO-LY CRAP !!! I was right, I was swimming in cum. My underwear was almost entirely soaked ! SHit, I had rarely shot so much !! Craaaaaaaaaaaappppppp !!!! It was warm, thick and sticky, creamy. It seemed... delicious ! if I wasn't at school, I would have tasted it but really not a good idea. Well, I had taken an airtight bag and especially deodorant, A LOT OF DEODORANT. If I could hide my trophies easily, there was one thing that was less easy to hide: the smell. If I'd just put it in my bag I'd be toast in two seconds. I put on clean underwear and returned in course. When I entered in the room and Jolias saw me, I could see his smile grow. Oh man, wait, it will be your turn soon hehehe ! No sooner had I returned to my seat than I received a message from Jolias: *So, how the battle went ?* And I replied: *I was able to hold off the attacker for 5 minutes but they gained ground and broke through my defence. The courtyard of the castle was invaded !* The wording was weird but I don't want anyone to pick up my phone and see "Oh I have the best orgasm of my life in middle of course, I flowded my underwear !" And Jolias replied: *Hahahaha needed the biggest walls !* Yeah well I would have liked to see him there... Finally, the course ended, the next was history course. Jolias disliked this course. So we were going to make it more interesting ! But I would strike when he least expected it. the class started and the teacher began a long monologue (and yeah, it was boring). But personally, I was concentrated on Jolias, which, as it went along, almost fell asleep and at some point, he ends up closing his eyes... YES ! it was time to strike ! I'll give you the best alarm clock ever, my dear Jolias ! I opened the app, I selected the ring and entered the password... mmmh.. what was it again ? .. Ah yes, "makemecum123" and don't worry Jolias, you will cum hehehe ! Just before to apply, I looked Jolias, he was almost slept. Haha dude, you're going to have one of those wake-up calls, the best of your life ! I confirmed. Almost instantly, he opened his eyes at once. He tried to hide it but I could see clearly he was panting. Then he looked me. I gave him a discreet wave of the hand then I sent him a message. *In war as in war my love !* I saw him slighty laugh but quickly interrupted, he was clearly tense, as strong as I was. So, it's not easy Jolias, right ? I could see by his head and his fists, completely closed and clenched, that he was fighting hard. Then, like me, he couldn't help but let out a slight. "NNNGHnnnnn.........." "hem Jolias... are you okay ?" asked the teacher. Jolias was lucky that his very tanned skin didn't show quickly that he was blushing but I knew it, he was embarassed. "nnnngggnn.....Yeah.......yeah...just......just a little indigestion..." Oh the copier hahahaha ! I tried to show if he had already came or not. And suddenly, I had had my answer. I saw his eyes opened even wider, his fists clench harder and he had like spasms. That's it, the fire hose had just been turned on and then several dozen seconds later he relaxed. Well, no doubt, his underwear should be totally soaked. I didn't see wet patch on his short, he had managed it well but knowing him, he had to put on several layers of underwear. ".....sorry Mister but... I have to go to toilets, just 2 minutes" Hahaha crap, he's going to steal all my excuses or ... ? After few minutes, I sent him a message for know the situation. And he replied me: *Maaaan, I put two walls for to have better defenses and... the first layer is COMPLETELY destroyed ! Fucking craaaaaaap ! And the second one took a lot too ! It's so insane !* Hahaha well, this first battle was full of surprises and intense ! In any cases, it was fucking hard to control not to say impossible but that's what was good !! Jolias come back few minutes later, with a bag which must smell the deodorant hahaha ! Finally the courses ended and I joined Jolias outside. "So, how was your battle ?" he asked me, in smiling. "Fuck man, it was insane and insanely hard to be retained !" "Hahaha yeah, I agree, but little advice: put several underwear, it will help to absorb. Especially since, I don't know about you but I shot twice as much as usual" "Yeah, I had the same thing, impossible to stop, it shooted again and again and again. My underwear was totally soaked" I replied "Hahaha we will not have to forget to make turn the washing machine this evening if not one will be very quickly short of underwear !" said Jolias. "I have to admit that we're going to use dozens of them a day ! By the way, I have to go to the city, I wanted to buy some new clothes, are you coming with me or are you going home ?" "Of course I'm coming with you !" "Well ! ... AH ! Here is the bus !" As usual we put ourselves in the background, it was more discreet and I do not know but ... I expected another "attack". Indeed, Jolias was playing with his telehpne and I was expecting to feel my ring vibrate at any moment, especially since he liked to do it in uncomfortable situations. And getting a gift in the middle of a bus ride was not a comfortable situation. Suddenly, I saw him raise an eyebrow, as if surprised... I wonder what made him .. !! aaaaaAAaaaaAAAAAAaaaAAAAAaaaAAAAHHHHHH !!!!!!! SHIT !!! FUCKING SHIT !!! I fucking knew it, he couldn't help it !!! Fuck Jolias, we are in a bus and you'll make me flood my underwear now ? Seriously ? OOoOOOoOOOOoOOOooooOOOOHHHHH !!!! Fuck, fucking fuck !!! It was good, it was... so fucking good ! Like in class, I was trying to hide it but you could clearly see that I was tense and trembling slightly. Fuck ! AAAAaaaaAAAAAAaaaaaaaAAAAAaaaAAAAHHHHHHH !!!!! But something new has happened: you know that feeling you get just before an orgasm ? Usually you feel it "where it belongs" right ? Well, here I had the impression that it was... spreading. It was not just my pelvis area, NNNnnnnngnnnngnnnhhhhhh !!!! I also started to feel it in my legs, my chest and little by little it spread to my whole body. OoOOOOooooooOoOOOOoooooOOOOOHHHHHH GOOOOOSH !!! it was like... I had a total masturbation of my whole body. And I was hot, more and more. And I looked at my arms and I could see that I was more vascular. And I could feel my heart beating super fast Fucking fuck.... FUCKING FUCK ! What was going on ? What the fuck was going on ? It wasn't normal, it wasn't normal at all !! I was trying so hard to resist, some tears even flowed but.. Don't cum Max, you're in a bus, your body seems to have an erection and it all makes no sense but don't cum ! ... Damn it was hard ! It was FUCKING HARD ! Even harder than in class... Jolias nudged me and showed me his phone. On it was written: "So, this battle ?" As I suspected it was him but... I don't think he noticed that there was anything different here. Maybe I was having an allergic reaction... In any case I really had the feeling that my body was congested. And it seemed to increase. Then a wave of pleasure went through me and I knew the fight was lost. My "cannon" was about to fire ! And few seconds later, I fired... I shooted, big load after big load, covering my underwear of cum and trying to swallow my moans and... shit, FUCKING SHIT ! I could see a wet patch on my pants. Not huge but it meant that my underwear was not enough. And clearly, he was flowded, I could feel it sticking to my skin. Then the "congestion" disappear in same time than I stopped to cumming. Honestly, I was a bit panicked. I was not surprised for the masturbate session but for the other thing, it wasn't clearly normal. I almost felt like my whole body was... swelling... But it's ridiculous, muscle growths as in the cartoon didn't exist. However, I really the feeling to be... pumped. And Jolias did not seem to have noticed. Well, it's our stop. we got off the bus and I tried not to show too much of my wet patch, well, here it was not just a wet patch, it had widened. "Fuck dude ! Thanks for the surprise attack, now my underwear sticks to my skin !" I said, sarcastically. "Hahahaha !! It was boring so it was necessary to spice up this journey a bit, no ?" "Yeah super... but now I have a underwear soaked of cum and I have to go in a shopping center full of people, thank you very much..." "Hahahahaha !! Don't worry, I have my stock of underwear and pants, we are going to need it I think. And little advice: put two or even three underwear. We don't know what can happen.." he said me in smiling. Crap, I bet he was going to do it again in the mall... I took his underwears and pant, found a quiet place and I changed my clothes..... FUCKING CRAP ! No wonder I had a wet patch; my underwear was completely FLOWED ! CRAAAAAAAAAP !! Well, if I put this in my bag it will stink... I was getting rid of my old clothes and dressed me again. Yes, it was really the right time to buy new ones ! We entered in the mall.
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