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Merry Fucking Christmas! Enjoy guys! Previous Parts: -Part 01 - Part 02 - Part 03 - Part 04 - Part 05 - Part 06 - Part 07 While You Were Sleeping Matt sat down on his bed, lying back and rolling onto his side so he could have a great view of Andrew from across the room as he slept. He watched Andrew’s newly-built chest rise and fall as he breathed in deeply, pulling in oxygen into his now much larger chest, before letting it all out. Matt heard Andrew muttering under his breath. Words that were hard to make out, but they began to make him quiver with desire for reasons he did not understand. He continued to watch his smaller brother slumber, Andrew’s new body partially illuminated under the dim moonlight coming in through the window. It was just enough for Matt to see the curves of his twins new muscles. Andrew murmur’s in his sleep again, having an amazing dream from what Matt was noticing as he watched a new curve being arising. The part of the sheet over Andrew’s larger dick began to rise. Matt paused, not sure what to do next, but Andrew shifts in his sleep, kicking off part of the sheet, letting his new, big phallus spring free. Matt’s throat catches as he watches its silhouette wave back and forth, several inches off of his slumbering bro. His own dick stiffening, urging him towards the swinging metronome of Andrew’s penis. Andrew’s snores were loud, and very deep. He continued to toss and turn on his bed, getting into a more comfortable position, his arm going behind his head, exposing his deep murky pit. The exposure sending a bit of odor wafting out over his area of the room as it began to get stronger the longer it was out in the fresh air, moving towards Matt’s side of the room. His other hand went down to his larger, kiwi sized balls, as be scratched and pulled at them slightly. “Wa….e….” he mumbled. ‘….nt…m…” the words were low but commanding even in his sleep daze. Each time they began to get clearer and clearer. “Want me….” Matt finally hears the two words, loud and clear. Even though it was still almost a mutter under Andrew’s breath, Matt was able to understand those two words perfectly. He pushed aside his sheets, tossing his legs over the edge, and treading the several meters to his brother’s bed. Matt looks down at Andrew, noting how the dim moonlight highlights the strong, masculine body of his growing twin. His own cock throbs, and as he watches Andrew sleep he notices his brother’s does as well. As Andrew rolls over to his side, Matt decides to join him in bed, His legs at Andrew’s head, and vice-versa as they get into a 69 position. Matt looks straight ahead towards Andrew’s cock, gently scooting towards it, eager to have it push between his lips, into his mouth, and down his throat, but he needs to make sure not to wake his twin. The words mutter again “Want Me,” much clearer now from him being this close. Matt can’t take it any longer, scooting forward quickly until he feels his smaller twins dick brush against his lips. Matt opens wide, engulfing the head, sucking it into his mouth, while his own cockhead presses against Andrew’s own, opened, sleeping lips. Pre begins to leak out from Matt’s cock onto Andrew’s lips. In Andrew’s sleep state, he licks his slightly slick lips, feeling his bro’s cock leave a good amount of pre on them. His moth opens, his tongue running along the upper part of Matt’s cock as his lips close around the head and Andrew begins to nurse on the tip like a child suckling a teat. Matt moan’s from the pleasure, scooting even closer to try and get more and more of his shaft into Andrew’s mouth, as he feels it hit the back wall, slowly forcing the head into Andrew’s throat. This causes Andrew to moan, feeling more aroused in his sleep state, his hand going toward the back of his brother’s head, rubbing his hair as he begins to stir a bit. Matt purr’s with joy as he is getting attention from his Twin. He doesn’t care if he’s asleep. He know’s Andrew does not want this to continue to happen, but this reassurance is all Matt needs to keep going. He relaxes his throat, opening it up more so he can swallow more of Andrew’s cock, pushing his lips further down the shaft. He wants his bro’s precious seed, so he makes his tongue dance against the underside of Andrew’s tool, feeling the bumps and ridges of the veins, teasing it as best as he can. Andrew’s throat muscles continue to open and close over the head of Matt’s cock. Matt begins to let out soft, muffled moans of pleasure as his balls start to ache, eager to unleash a bountiful seed. But the thing inside of Matt, the living Symbiote, won’t allow it yet. It prevents him from release, and starts to produce more and more cum, making Matt’s balls begin to fill with more and more cream. Matt is hopeless, able only to do his best to work over Andrew’s cock while Andrew’s sleeping daze returns the favor. Andrew’s sleepiness begins to wear off as his eyes begin to slowly open, his brain waking up. The first thing he sees are two large, swelling testicles pressed against his face, before he notices the cock lodged down his throat… “Mmmmmm mmmmmm” Andrew tries to protest, knowing this is going to not go so well for Matt as his own cock was buried deep into his brother’s throat as well. His cock was uncontrollably hard, there was no way he was going to escape this. Andrew tris pulling away, but Matt’s hands grab onto his thighs and hold him in place, as Matt flips Andrew onto his back. Matt’s still larger then him and has plenty of skills from all the sports he played through the years that Andrew never did. “Mmmmmm….” Andrew protests again, but Matt just doubles his efforts, sucking even harder and faster. Matt was desperate for his brother’s cum, wanting so very much to please Andrew. Wanting just as much to make his twin bigger, stronger, sexier. As Andrew struggled beneath him, Matt drives his dick deep into Andrew’s mouth, until his balls are resting against Andrew’s nose; his wispy pubes tickling Andrew’s chin. Matt let’s out a soft grunt as his cock explodes, sending a large load of cum rocketing down Andrew’s throat. As it hits, Andrew kicks, his body spasming as another inch is added to his height, bringing him to six feet tall, just like Matt. His body swells, more and more muscle added to his frame as he reaches a whopping 215lbs, just five pounds shy of Matt’s own still impressive 220lbs. And his cock, lurching forward in Matt’s mouth as it gains another ½ inch, reaching finally a solid 8, thickening slightly in his mouth, pushing further down his throat. Matt lets out a low moan as he continues so suck, turned on incredibly by this new growth spurt. Andrew gets even hornier with this new flood of testosterone going through his body, causing his own cock to grow even harder. As Matt began to lift himself away after he did what he felt needed to be done, to grow Andrew to Twin like proportions, Andrew’s hands latch onto Matt’s head and thrusts his cock upward to sink his cock all the way up into Matt’s throat. Matt’s cock no longer in Andrew’s mouth. “This is what you wanted?” Matt tries to push Andrew’s body back onto the bed. “I’m sorry bro… Mph… but it’s… my turn…” He thrusts his cock all the way up and Matt continues to struggle. “My turn… to… Uhnn…” His eyes closing as a mighty blast of hot seed fires out from Andrew’s cock and forces its way into Matt’s stomach. “to… protect you.” All Matt can do is swallow or he would probably drown from how much cum was erupting out of his twin’s cock. He begins to feel like he’s weakening, getting smaller, but even though these physical attributes are changing he can only think of how much he truly needs to be wanted now by Andrew. Matt grips onto Andrew’s muscular thighs, feeling them tense up under him as he continues to shoot. All Matt does is welcome every last drop. Andrew also feel’s his brother getting smaller around him, as he drops to 5’11”. Matt’s cock reeling back into his body as it sucks into a slightly above average 7 inches, nowhere close to his whopping original 10. His weight reaching 205lbs. Andrew finally rolls Matt’s body off of him and onto the bed. Panting, his body covering with as much sweat, even covered with fur, his body looked like an oiled up bodybuilder. “What did you do?” “You wanted me to want you. And I did. I wanted you. I still do. I want you so bad, Andrew!” Matt reaches up, his fingers gently brushing against one of Andrew’s furry pecs, feeling how it’s slightly larger than before, slightly thicker. “And I love what my cum does to you. How it makes you bigger. Stronger. Fuck, you’re HOT, Andrew. You know that, right?” Matt moves his thumb and index finger to the nipple on the pec he was rubbing and begins to roll it between his fingers. Is it any surprise that I want you?” Andrew moans in pleasure from Matt’s touch. He pulls his twin closer towards him, lifting him up in his arms, as he stands up and walks towards the full length mirror, Matt’s posing mirror, the one that he would always admire himself in. Andrew places him down, right in front of him. Matt having to look slightly up now, but not by much, as Andrew turns him towards his reflection. Matt can now see who is clearly the larger one in absolutely every aspect now. “Do you see this Matthew?” Matt hated that name. He hasn’t been called that since he was 12. It was the name his parent’s would also use to scold him as a child. “Look what you’ve done. I told you to stop… There is no going back from now on…” Matt looks down at his feet for a moment, then back up at Andrew. He blushes, seeming a bit shy. Certainly not like the confident jock who used to strut around campus like he owned it. “Are you really mad at me, Andrew? I – I thought you wanted this. You can’t be feeling bad, can you?” Matt reaches over and traces his fingers along his brother’s abs, tracing each separation between each block of muscle. “Don’t you feel bigger, stronger, more capable? Ready to take on the world?” Matt moved around Andrew’s larger frame, behind his bro. His smaller body now completely hidden behind Andrew’s reflected image in the mirror. “Don’t you want to be as much of a man as you can be?” Matt asked, his voice distant, as he leaned against Andrew’s strong, broad, muscular back. Andrew feels Matt’s arms wrap around his waist from behind as he relaxes a bit. “I think I’m gonna need a shower. I can’t sleep now…” Andrew turns around to face Matt, placing a hand gently on his brother’s chin. “Everything will be ok, I guess,” He smiles into his eyes. “Just gonna be some adjustments were gonna need to get used to.” Andrew bends down, bringing his lips to Matt’s, kissing him, before heading off to the shower, leaving them both to contemplate. Matt watches Andrew’s strong glutes rising and falling with each step as he leaves the room. His lats curving to meet his beefy shoulders, traps trying to reach up and swallow his neck. He flopped back onto his bed, a huge grin on his face. You’re big now, and hot. But you could be so much more… To Be Continued… Coming Soon Part 08: Make A Man Out of You

Muscle fog ogre’s gift Ch 1 part 6 by Big Zargo Human shopping With the fall of Holmes top borough’s hospital and the death of Oliver, Logan decided that staying in one place was dangerous, for no matter how secure it was Owen would eventually find a way in. Their only hope was to go across town into the forest and reach the gate which would allow one to travel great distances and circumvent Owens magical fog barrier. Logan hands out special talismans to each group which will allow them to activate the gate. Now these groups of 5 to 10 people head out to the gate in hopes for their freedom. Each group sets off in different directions in hopes of giving each group a chance to make it to their destination. Two weeks later. The group led by Sam were holed up in a small store after Elmar twisted his ankle. “Just one more day Elmar and we’ll have to leave. I don’t want to leave you or any man behind, but this store doesn’t have enough food for all of us, or very much at all in the first place. If you’re not ready to go, we will have to leave you,” Sam says with sadness in his voice. Elmar lather on the ground on top of a bunch of women’s clothes, rubbing his ankle. “Don’t worry Elmar I will not leave you behind. I’ll carry you and both of our packs if I have to. With your skinny body will be easy for me.” Reynard says in confidence, flexing his biceps. Knock-knock-knock-knock!! Every man’s face turns towards the front of the store where the noise came from. “Little humans little humans let me in, or I will huff and puff and blow your door down.” The deep voice spoke from outside the store. Grabbing his talisman from his pocket Sam starts walking towards the front of the building. First Sam check the Windows to make sure there aren’t any other ogres nearby by peeking through the shutters and window covers. Then with the talisman in his hand he steps outside of the store. “You’re a brave one, aren’t you?” The ogre says while backing up, Sam’s talisman glowing a harsh bright white light. This ogre had orange colored skin, on a 10 feet tall and wide muscular body, covered in gray hair, short spiky hair connected by sideburns with a strong square jaw covered in a 5 o’clock shadow. His grace blue eyes were gleaming with sexual hunger and the desire to corrupt. Surprisingly to Sam and his group of survivors, the ogre was wearing a kilt made out of brownshirts and had intelligence, unlike the other ogres who were dumb and naked, and wandering the streets looking for their next victims to fuck. “Yes, yes, I am, monster. We will not be coming Owens sex slaves we will not accept his so-called gift,” Sam says with conviction. The ogre roars in agony as Sam’s talismans given by the wizard / Guardian Logan, both burns with pain and forces him to move back from in front of the store. “That’s right you muscle freak get back. The power of this talisman forces you to get back.” Sam yells out. “So be it. Remember this name, human. Charlie. I will come for you and I will make you my personal cum truck,” Charlie says well yelling out in pain. Charlie quickly turns around and starts running away deeper into the mist then deeper into the fog. Looking to the sky Sam sees that the night is coming, soon the mist will transform into the muscle fog; not even the talismans can keep them safe if they are exposed for too long. “We should leave soon as possible. The ogre might return tomorrow with some friends. Judging by the way the sun is setting will have to leave early in the morning; We can’t risk traveling by night,” Sam says to his group, with concern on his face. Sam soon delegates watch time to the group of survivors. With him and Reynard taking the first watch, then Eli and Elmer taking the second and finally Xavier and Tommy. Eli grumble but accepts his guard watch. Each man starts resuming work on securing the area before heading to sleep. “Do you know how much power the talismans have left,” Reynard asked Sam? “It’s still glows green on the back, so it’s still close to fill. But you must conserve power as much as possible. we may not have taken the longest way to the gate, but we still need to avoid the downtown area,” Sam says. Couple hours later The first hour for Eli and Elmer had been pretty boring for the two men. When Eli spotted two ogres. “Yuck, those two muscle monsters are fucking right in front of us,” Eli says with discuss. “I know we should be lookouts, but I don’t think Sam wanted us to watch this all night,” Elmer said. Both men turning around and placing their backs to the door trying to ignore the sounds of Ogreish fucking, Unaware that the two ogres were a distraction. On the roof top of the building that they are staying in, an ogre cloaked in the shadows of night places a stone disk with strange magical symbols on top of the roof. Within 30 minutes the stone magic subverts the protections of the building that the survivors are standing in. Within 10 more minutes the power of the talismans that Eli and Elmer had on them fizzles out. The next 10 minutes Eli and Elmer minds became foggy and lusty as the fog secretly seeps in, wrapping around their legs and slowly turning them into ogres. Xavier was the first one to wake up and the first one to realize something was wrong. He woke up on his own rather than being woken up by Eli and/or Elmer, and he had an extreme case of mourning wood. He had quickly and quietly got up, checking his surrounding before quietly waking everyone. Thanks to the morning light, Xavier could tell that there was a light dusting of Mist all over the floor. Does not take very long for someone to succumb to muscle fog but does take time for someone to succumb to its mist form, Xavier had thought to himself while he was waking up the other survivors. It didn’t take Xavier very long for him to find Eli and Elmer; For they had been transformed into ogres. Their destroyed clothes were on the floor with a trail of destroyed and fallen racks and shelves led to them. “How did we sleep through that,” Xavier thought to himself. There were like two huge bears like men sleeping like babies. Each of survivors grouped together at the back of the store. “Everyone gather your things. We need to leave now,” Sam said in a whisper. “I’ll take point,” Tommy whispered. All of the survivors quickly and quietly gathered all their supplies, before gathering in front of the door to the back exit. Tommy grabs his talisman and fails to notice that the power was gone. he slowly and cautiously opens and seeing that the coast is clear, and that the alley was cleared. He begins walking through the door. “Looks like it’s good and empty,” Tommy said turning his face towards the others. But before Tommy could move away from the door a ball of condensed muscle fog falls upon Tommy’s body. “Eaaaaaaaa!” Before everyone’s eyes Tommy starts transforming into an ogre. The ball of condensed fog passes through Tommy’s mouth and like a balloon he grew and swell with size and muscles. His skin turns into a shade of orange. As his clothes quickly become tight with his growing muscular body. Within a blink of an eye Tommy have been changed from average man into a huge tan heavyweight bodybuilder and yet his transformation was not over. For now, his clothes starting to rip and tear as he grew into a monstrous inhuman size. His shoes burst open revealing his huge growing feet. His belt strains against his growing body before submitting to the changes and snapping off of his growing waistline. The survivors can clearly see Tommy’s growing six-pack in front of their startled eyes. Like an opening mouth, eyes shaped tears appear a pawn side of Tommy’s pants revealing his growing muscular thighs before falling apart onto the floor with his boxers. His cock quickly becomes erect as it begins to swell and lengthen; Inch by inch first from its 5 inches than six than seven than eight then 9, 10,11, and finally 12 inches. With each inch of growth of his cock he leaped out his humanity through his cum, as his balls have been starting to replace with Ogreish cum. As his cock grew so did his balls quickly swelling into the size two big oranges. The straps on his backpack quickly fell off, as his shirt tour from the middle of his chest and back. Survivors witness how Tommy’s shirt bursts off of his huge meaty pillow size pecs and how the monist hair on his body grew and spread-out words over his body starting out with his pecs. From his upper body the growth and transformation propagate to his arms, starting with the shoulders which became huge boulders, then to his bicep which became size bowling balls, wrists that grew too large for the largest of human watches and have that quickly grew into huge baseball mitts which became large enough to cover a man’s face. The worst thing for the survivors to see, is how Tommy’s face change. Starting with his neck bulging thickening veins popping out as skin turns to a shade of orange. The Facial features begin to become brutish, with eyebrow ridge growing and becoming pronounce, with his stubble jaw becoming blunter and square, his nose became more rounder. Tommy quickly grew to the point he completely blocked the doorway of the exit with his size, to the point that the other survivors cannot even see his head. Within a mowing muffled by the wall he came shooting last of his humanity to the horror of his friends in the other survivors. “No way,” Xavier said in stun and shocked. They were all shocked and just standing there but Sam was the first one to break the shock to realize the implication. “Everyone we have to go back to the lobby of the store for we cannot stay here,” Sam says. Breaking the shock that they had over them, and they ran. The group of survivors come back to the main room of the store to find Charlie and his group of ogres ready to meet them. “We will huff and puff and blow you all guys down,” Charlie yells out. Then him and the other ogres took a deep breath before blowing all over the survivors, in a form of a powerful wave. The survivors wet on their knees with grins all over their faces and erect cocks. “They’re all yours believe that one to me,” Charlie said while pointing at Sam. With his words Charlie grabs Sam and peels his clothes off like a banana as if his clothes were like wrapping paper. “I’ll choose the big one,” said the biggest ogre with gray skin. “Nice choice Gareth,” says one of the other ogres. The rest of the survivors try to resist but they were sluggish things thanks to the ogre’s breath magical attack. Each ogre took great delight at picking their humans to turn into ogres and temporary sex slaves. Each ogre stripping their human down and carrying them like a fireman; with the People’s ass facing the heavens and their faces pressed against the ogre’s hairy muscular back. “Let’s secure these humans with the magical bindings, then we will destroy this building and this block buildings,” Charlie said. From the back of the room the now Ogreish Tommy walks in with another more hairy and shorter ogre. “I’m going to take this fine lad with me if you don’t mind? Just a couple more of these groups and one more wizard and this town will be ours,” the short ogre says. “That was the deal, Reginald. Once we’re done converting these humans into our brothers will send you the video of it,” Charlie said. With their goodbyes to Reginald the rest the ogres quickly secured the humans, then began demand their work of destroying the area of the town. One by one the survivors were picked off and tell only Sam, Reynard and Xavier remained; the ogres becoming inpatient and lustful during their breaks. The survivors watched friends, family and comrades being forced to the smelly pits, chests, feet and balls of the ogres and saw how the victims changed. First, they would stop resisting. then they would begin lick and/or sniff the musky area. Then their cocks would become erect, and if possible, they would begin humping and/or grabbing their cocks. These actions would eventually cause the ogre to become erect as well and like moth to the flame the victim would be attracted to it; the victims would begin licking at it, sucking at it, or in some cases tried to rub their asses against it. The ogres would sometimes bend down so that their victims could serve them and another times the victim would kneel a little, instead. At this point the victim skin would start to change color, from a human natural shade to a shade of orange like their skin was becoming tan while those with light brown or brown became a lot darker. Their bodies would begin to grow wider and taller, and with it there their muscles as well. For some the fat on their body would disappear while for others the fat would transfer being evenly distributed against their growing bodies. Like a horror show to the tied-up victims, they watched how the others grew into tan looking bodybuilder’s and/or strongman. Their backs growing and becoming developed, as their trapezius grew on their swelling neck to the point, they suffered bulls’ neck. Their ass, thighs, and calves would swell, their ass was like two huge balls squished together, their thighs were like tree trunks with teardrops etched on the front and their calves were like huge footballs. Body hair had grown or were started growing all over the victim’s body; when they had reached a size 7 feet and their bodies were like heavy weight bodybuilders and/or strongman. The victim’s bodies began to shake and tremble, as their human’s bodies reach to their limit. Then the true change began to happen. Like a second growth spurt the once human victims completely transformed into ogres. There once already huge 7 feet tall bodies had grown to a large 10 feet or taller monster, their pecs, biceps, ass, thighs, and calves would grow until they were larger than humans’ head. All of their facial structure would change that nose becoming blunter, jaw squaring out before being covered by beard and/or 5 o’clock shadow, there eyebrow ridges becoming more pronounced as their eyebrow’s became more thicker and asked their hair grew out and/or became more shorter or even bald. When the transformation was complete the victims now monster cock would shoot at the last of their humanity in a massive orgasm, which the ogre would come before the transformation or after it. The most horrible part of it all was the victims’ eyes, were once there were a glimmer of intelligence and person, now there was dim a mindless hunger for sex and destruction. Their dumb minds and blank expressions of joy made a disturbing site for the remaining victims; for they had become monstrous muscle bear of a caveman in other words an ogre and joining Owens horde of muscle monsters. Once the transformation was done the ogres might have a second wind and began having sex, but once they were done the ogres would begin tearing apart the surrounding area with their terrible strength. The ogres uplifted cars like they were nothing moving them into a pile, they punched through walls like cardboard. They easily snapped telephone poles like twigs, bend streetlamps and sign like slim metal coat hangers. They did not even break a sweat while they were breaking and destroying buildings in the nearby area. What once had taken weeks and/or months to build was now destroyed in a single day, a single afternoon. Once the ogres were done destroying the area so that no one could hide their, the last three survivors were taken to the camp of the ogres the village of tents.

I saw him every now and then. Passing in the lobby, of the building where I work. Or on the parking lot. We've been in the same elevator a few times. He goes to the 27th floor. I work at the 19th. I had tried to figure out a pattern for his whereabouts, not to miss any opportunity to see him, but it seemed to be completely random. He could show up any day of the week, any time of the day. There is a handful of companies on the 27th floor. A law firm mainly, consulting agencies of all sorts, but my money was on "HyperCell", a bio-engineering research company. I bet it was the one he was working for, or with. Two reasons led me to think so : first, there always was a few guys with him, and at least one of them was wearing a lab coat. Second, the man was fucking humongous. Not just tall, but insanely muscular. The suit-like clothes he had on him couldn't even begin to hide the immensity of his build. His shoulders were maybe four feet wide, his chest was like a mountain upside-down, precariously balanced on his narrow waist. He walked with his arms at a 45° angle, stiff, one leg carefully circumventing the other with each step he made - I heard some joking under their breath that he was so inflated he couldn't even walk normally, but to me, he had the most graceful, the most elegant moves I had ever seen. The way he managed to control this formidable muscular mass, while keeping his challenged clothes from exploding at every seam, showed a level of skill that only heightened my admiration for the man. Because, yes, I deeply admired this incredible behemoth. I had never seen anything like him, and every time he appeared the sight of him took my breath away. The first time, I just stood frozen in place, my jaw dropped, I almost fainted. For weeks, I dreamed to approach him, talk to him, but there was no way I could find the nerve to do so. The first time we were in the same elevator, I had to grasp the rail as hard as I could, I had never been so close to him, I had never fully smelled his scent before, I was shaking all over, sweating bullets, so much that it attracted the attention of two men of his party. He always had an entourage of several men, business suits and lab coats as I mentioned earlier, and this also was an obstacle to my desire to approach him. Over time, I got a better grip on myself. No pun intended, sure I "gripped myself" aplenty thinking about him, to the point that a sleepless night wasn't uncommon after having seen him. And directly after each one of the few elevator trips I made in his company, I had to rush to the restroom before going back to my desk. At least to clean myself, but usually more. But, sorry for the grisly details, that was uncalled for. So, I needed a plan. I had to be able to talk to him someday, maybe shake his hand. First I had to deal with my nervousness. I wasn't as helpless as I used to be in his presence, but there still was a long way to go. I decided to rely on psychoanalysis. Scanning online reviews, I chose a practitioner who might get the job done. Luck has it, he really was the right one, as he perfectly understood my infatuation for the colossal muscle man. At first, I wanted to pretend I was attracted to some woman at work, but the moment I entered Dr Mitchell's office, I knew I didn't have to. Some subtle elements of decor led me to believe he wasn't a stranger to the liking of hardcore, male bodybuilding. We spoke at length on the subject, and we became quite good friends. After the first few sessions he even stopped charging me. He was dubious about the depiction I made of the man on my mind, thinking I had an exaggerated, idealized view. Of my "Lobby Dick" as he liked to call him. But once I had switched on my phone and showed him the few pictures I had taken of the beast, I might as well have stood up and kicked him in the groin. What really shocked him, besides the size of the monumental muscle man of course, was that he didn't recognize him at all, and positive he had never seen him before. See, Dr Mitchell is extremely knowledgeable about the sport of bodybuilding, and he couldn't believe that an athlete this big could have passed under the radar. This had to be the biggest bodybuilder in the world. For sure, it made my sessions with Dr Mitchell all the more efficient, as he really wanted me to succeed in my objective. But he had no idea how to help me getting rid of the man's entourage. This was an even more trickier part. As a group they just zoomed in and out of the building, up and down the 27th floor. We talked this through, Dr Mitchell and I, or Yvan and I should I say, as we spent the evening at my place a few days a week. He had been to a lot of bodybuilding shows, been around several serious bodybuilders, even had filled prescriptions for growth hormones and steroids for a while but had to stop as he got investigated. Yvan showed me a lot of videos of bodybuilders being interviewed, fans meeting bodybuilders, bodybuilders in casual situations with friends. That helped me a lot with my confidence, in general, these magnificent supermen were a lot more friendly than I thought they would be, considering how intimidating and powerful they are. More importantly, Yvan wanted me to study how these men react, what makes them tick, what pleases them, what turns them off. How glutton they can be for tokens of admiration, crave for signs of respect, appreciative of recognition of their intellect, wary of excessive demonstrations of affection from strangers. Of course that wouldn't tell me exactly what to say, or how "lobby dick" would react, if I ever had the chance to talk to him. But again that helped me being confident, and any pointers were good to get. Because one thing was for sure, if I found a way to have the opportunity to talk to the wonderful man in private, that would be for a short period of time, and I would have to make the best of it. The highlight of a lifetime. It would never be perfect. But there is nothing wrong in trying. ===================== So, any idea for a plan? To get that private moment with the gigantic monster of muscle? Not asking for a follow up, just taking suggestions

So OK, here goes my first ever attempt at a story. I decided to post it in parts to motivate myself to actually write it instead of thinking of writing it one day. This is going to be a romance story, but at the right time sex will come into play. I'm not sure how you guys will find the dynamic between the characters, it might be perceived as somewhat weird and depending on how things go along the way I might actually include some heavy/dark elements in there. I still want to give it a try. ************************************************************ PART 1 My last 3 internet dates were absolute nightmares. All the guys seemed OK in the pictures and when I talked to them, but when met in person, they turned out to be completely dreadful people I didn't want to meet ever again. So I thought that I really needed to try something different. I needed to change something in the way I chose the guys to date. There was one thing that had worked well for me once in the past and I thought I could try it once again - that was dating a guy without seeing his photo. Kind of a blind date. You'd say - that's crazy. But really, it doesn't have to be. People often hide their appearance not because they're unattractive, but because they don't want to be seen for this or other reason. Sometimes it's because they're closeted, for example at work. Sometimes for other reasons. And in my experience, giving those faceless dating profiles a chance could lead to some really nice dates. So I thought - let's give it a chance once again. It took me just a few minutes to find a profile that somehow made me curious about it. Username: "wanderer". Interesting. His profile stated that what he's looking for is a buddy for having walks around the city with and maybe going to the gym once in a while. Written shortly, but neatly. No mention of sex or his sexual preferences - what a nice change. No stats were provided, only the age, 29, a few years younger than me. I was into longer walks myself and so I thought - let's try. I chatted him up asking saying that I like walks too. He replied, we exchanged a few messages, he didn't seem very talkative, rather straight to the point. At the same time I didn't feel like he was trying to get rid of me. He said that he wanted to go for a walk around in the park in the eastern part of the city, near the river. He suggested to first meet for coffee to get to know each other and that he won't be offended if I say no after meeting him and that he as well might decide to give it a pass if for any reason he doesn't feel that things click the right way between us. That seemed like an honest offer. I agreed. We exchanged numbers and were supposed to meet at 9 the next day. I went to sleep happy that I had a plan for Saturday morning. I didn't expect much, but it was still nice. -- It's Saturday, 8:55. I'm waiting at a junction at the periphery of a nice neighborhood, next to the the café where we were supposed to meet. I text the guy: "I'm here." He texts back: "I'm there in 3 mins." Cool. So I'm waiting and observing - who might that be. There aren't many people around at this hour, but still a enough to give me a chance for guessing. There's a tall guy in glasses coming from the other side of the street. But he just passes me. Oh, another candidate, I hope it's not him though, very much not my type. Oh my... what's that beautiful creature coming from afar? A bearded guy, roughly 6' tall, tight black t-shirt, muscley-beary build, dark-eyed. Haha, a man can always dream... Hmmm, he's still going in my direction. No, that can't be. He saw me. He's a strong 8 in the scale of 1 to 10, no, it's a 9, I'm a 5 on my good days with my 5'7'' and a very average, non-athletic appearance. No, let's not get our hopes up. Fuck, he's coming in my direction and looking me. FUCK. He's actually raising his hand for a handshake. WHAT THE FUCK? - Hi, I'm Greg. - says Greg. I'm at a loss for words. What has just happened? ************************************************************

Grow Up! A collaboration between myself and Aardvark. This story was altered from its original form and updated. – “Porter!” Silence. “Porter!!!” Silence. “HEY!!! PORTER!!!!!!” “WHAT?!” Porter appeared at the top of the stairs, staring down in anger at his little brother Bode at the foot of them. “WHAT, BODE? The house better be on fire!!!” “I wanna play the Playstation.” “You have seen me set it up for you ten. Thousand. Times. Why can’t you do it yourself?” Porter said with a huge amount of annoyance as he trudged down the steps. “I always mix up the cables,” Bode shrugged, completely without remorse. The family entertainment center was a bit out of date. The amount of cording behind the television was enough to confuse even the most adept of techies. In the bedroom, Freddie rolled his eyes and set his phone on the bed. He and Porter hadn’t really been doing anything. Just laying back and shooting the shit about what they wanted to do over their last summer before senior year. So far, the only exciting thing was Harry Greco’s big party this Saturday. Because of Bode, they couldn’t just do whatever – he couldn’t be left home alone. Seriously, if the kid could just be a tiny bit older, Freddie and Porter’s lives could be so much easier. Walking into the living room, Freddie saw Porter wrestling with the entertainment center. Freddie arched a blonde brow as he assessed everything. “Your family does know that HDMI cords have been invented, right?” Porter snorted. “You think my father knows anything about technology other than Microsoft Word and Internet Explorer? He’d look at this and say, ‘Oh, it’s not that bad, Port! Get in there and help your little brother!’” “He’s right!” Bode chirped from his position on the La-Z-Boy near the television. “When are they coming back?” The venom exuding Porter’s face could have dissolved solid stone. “They told you literally yesterday. You seriously don’t remember?” Bode shrugged. “Nope.” Freddie facepalmed. “Two weeks. They said two weeks.” “Oh. ‘Kay. Are you done, Porter?” Before Porter could answer, there was a loud crack and a shower of sparks and the brunette leapt back from the television. Bode yelped. Porter hissed and made sure he was uninjured while Freddie checked the television. “This,” he announced, “is dead. Looks like your dad’s modernizing whether he likes it or not, bro.” “I’m telling mom!” Bode announced, hopping off the La-Z-Boy and making for the phone. Freddie ran after him. Porter groaned and put his head in his hands. “I’m in so much trouble now.” “Bode, put the phone down,” Freddie commanded as the younger teen approached the family cell phone. “Porter broke the TV and I want them to buy me a new one so I can play games while they’re gone! I can’t use the one in their bedroom, you can’t plug anything in cause it’s on the wall!” Bode reached for the phone but Freddie batted it away. “Ow! You shocked me!” “It’s your fault he had to tinker with it in the first place!” Freddie snapped. “You have a laptop, play games on that! Stop trying to just fuck up Porter’s life for no-” “That’s a bad word!” Bode gasped. How could anyone be so innocent at this age? Probably because his mother babied him so much. “-FOR NO REASON,” Freddie continued. He gave Bode a light nudge as he held the phone up out of the other boy’s grasp. “Grow up!” “No! I wanna play games!” “GROW UP, BODE!” Freddie said again with another light nudge, except this time Bode went sailing across the room as if he’d been shot out of a cannon. “Holy…” Freddie said, jogging over to the younger boy on the floor. Porter showed up then and saw his friend crouching over his little brother. “What’d you do?!” “Nothing!” “It was… it was nothing…” Bode said, sitting up and giving his head a shake. “I was being rude.” He looked up at Porter. “Sorry, P. I know you were just trying to help me out. I won’t tell on you.” “Uh… thanks.” “Maybe I…” Bode stood up and smoothed down his rumpled sweatpants. “Maybe I should buy us a new TV.” “You? You don’t have that kind of money, Bode, TVs are expensive.” “I have… some money…” Bode said, in a vacant voice. “Yeah… I’ll go upstairs and look at some TVs online.” Porter and Freddie watched Bode walk back up the stairs and to his room. “That was weird,” Freddie murmured. “Least he’s out of our hair for now.” Upstairs, Bode shut the door to his room and groaned, running a hand over his forehead. “Weird… I didn’t… didn’t feel sick when I… uh… oof…!” He put a hand over his stomach, which let loose a rumbling growl. “Unnnh…” he moaned, grimacing. He staggered for his bed, flopping onto it and idly pawing around for his laptop. His hand felt weird. Like it was too big… What was going on here? This was bizarre. “I… I need to get…” What? Get what? His mind grasped for the end to the statement, but found nothing except… workout techniques? What the-? The feeling of too-bigness crept up his arm, and he groaned. This wasn’t right. He rolled over and grunted, as his crotch began to feel tight. He tried to loosen his sweatpants, but the bulge was already there, growing larger and lewder by the minute. “F-Fuck,” Bode murmured, now unconcerned whether it was a bad word or not. He tried to put it out of his mind, though he kept absently pawing at his cock, which ached inside his underwear. To distract himself, true to his word, he opened up his laptop and went to the Best Buy website to search for TVs. Some of them were pretty expensive, but Bode was excited to see a 4K one at a holiday discount with all the trimmings, including everything he needed for gaming. It was $800 – Bode knew that was a lot of money for a TV, but it was worth it. He rummaged through his backpack… why did this darn thing have so many pockets? Finally, he found a Velcro wallet with Bart Simpson on it. It had once been Porter’s when he was Bode’s age, and had gotten passed down. Their mom didn’t like Bart Simpson because he was rebellious, which made Bode like the wallet more. He pulled out his school lunch card, an unused movie pass he was saving for the next Spider-Man movie, and finally found what he wanted: his American Express Platinum card. He wondered if he had enough reward points stored up to get the TV for free. And how to get it? In-store pickup? Bode wasn’t sure if he could drive. He didn’t have a license. Did Porter have a license? Nah, he’d just have it delivered. With a few more clicks and a number typed in, the TV was headed their way. Bode smiled to himself and sat up. His stomach still ached and gurgled with a ferocity the likes of which he’d never experienced before. Maybe he needed some Coke. The carbonation would settle his stomach. So Bode went downstairs, calling out “TV’s on its way” as he turned to go into the kitchen. In the living room, Porter called back, “Thanks, kid.” Kid? Bode didn’t like that. He wasn’t a kid, was he…? Well, yeah, he was kind of a kid. So why did he feel so much older? Ugh, this made his head hurt. He opened the fridge, grabbing for a beer… Wait, beer? No, a Coke. Red can, swoopy-swirly logo. Can in hand, he headed into the living room. “So what are we doing?” he asked. Freddie and Porter regarded him as if his appearance – a teenager with the arms and hands of a seasoned stevedore – wasn’t unusual. A collective “nothing” met his question. “Hmm. We could… I dunno, play charades until the TV gets here?” Bode suggested. Freddie and Porter stared at each other for a moment. There wasn’t anything else to do, they figured, so why not? “I’ll go first,” Bode said, hopping up in front of the entertainment center. He thought for a moment. Scratched his chin. Then he raised both his arms out to the sides and slightly above his head, flashing a double peace sign and a big fake smile. “Arnold Schwarzenegger!” “Popeye!” “Hulk Hogan!” “Um… uh… Gaston!” Bode’s brow furrowed. He’d thought it was super obvious. “John Cena!” “Hercules!” “The Rock!” “No!” Bode said, dropping his arms in annoyance. “Richard Nixon! The V-sign! He made it when the Vietnam War ended!” Porter and Freddie stared up blankly at him. “Sheesh, you guys have never heard of Nixon?” “Was he a bodybuilder?” “No, he was the president!” Bode grew more exasperated. “A bodybuilder? Why on Earth were you guessing wrestlers and Hercules?” “We thought you were flexing.” “I just have big arms,” Bode shrugged, and it was an understatement to say the least. Biceps as big as cannonballs had wedged his sleeves up under his arms. His upper arms – massive, veiny – looked to have roughly the same circumference as his waist. It looked freakish. “You go, I guess I’m not good at this,” Bode barked to Freddie. Freddie leapt up immediately and Bode smiled, reaching up to rub the older teen’s hair. An odd gesture, but no one mentioned it as Bode sat down cross-legged on the floor and folded his gargantuan arms over his chest. Freddie went, almost bending in half and moving his legs to make a sprinting motion. Bode grunted and adjusted his legs a bit “An ice skater!” “A sheep!” Freddie looked at Porter like he’d grown a second head and signaled a “no.” Porter kept shouting out increasingly outlandish answers while Bode grunted, pushing out his legs. They pulsed and throbbed, and the feeling of too-bigness crept down them until there was a tearing noise. His sweatpants had burst! And yet Freddie and Porter didn’t notice! Bode looked down to see two redwoods jutting from his pelvis. Enormous thighs, swollen with fat, meaty muscles which would have been rubbing together if his enormous package wasn’t separating them. It strained against his undies, which looked like they’d give way at any moment. Bode idly massaged it as he flexed his enormous calves. After a minute, making sure not to pop a boner in front of the boys, he looked up. “Usain Bolt,” he called out. Freddie hopped into a normal stance, grinning. “That’s right!” He returned to his seat. Porter stewed as Bode strode up. “Alright, you go, sport,” Bode said, noticing Porter’s irritation. He chuckled fondly and shook his head. No one noted the “sport” comment, and Bode plopped down next to Freddie. He looked the other one over and took in just how fit Freddie was. It looked good. Really good, in fact… Bode had never noticed how handsome Freddie had become. Freddie and Porter had been friends for years, thick as thieves, so Bode saw Freddie almost daily, which had made Freddie’s puberty seem less abrupt. But the boy next door had grown up beautifully. He had a strong chin, a broad chest that Bode knew would eventually get a lot thicker, wide shoulders, and a nice deep voice. Bode imagined an older, bearded Freddie wearing a suit and tie and reading the news. He’d be good at that. And when that tie came off, the neck muscles underneath… the top of that muscular chest on view… Out of Porter’s view, Bode’s hand wandered up to the middle of Freddie’s back and began rubbing. He felt Freddie’s sharp intake of breath, and the neighbor boy’s blue eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t pull away or look over. Bode’s fingers were stretching across Freddie’s back, his palm widening, his knuckles popping as big as quarters. More muscled bulged its way out of his arms, spreading up into his shoulders, and the crew neck of his t-shirt started to pull apart as Bode’s collarbone began extending, eventually bumping him into Freddie. Freddie didn’t move as Bode’s shoulders forced them to snuggle together, growing massively broad, twice as wide as Freddie’s. Bode slid his huge hand down to Freddie’s lower back, and his pinkie rubbed along waistband of Freddie’s underwear. He smirked. “Are you guys paying attention?!” Porter snipped. “Sorry P!” Bode said, his voice cracking. “We’re lookin’.” Bode grunted, adjusting his stance some more. He felt broad and kinda heavy, but not especially thick. Mm, he’d have to fix that… He took a deep breath and turned to watch Porter, who was standing bow-legged and had his hands out before him like he was trying to hold a large gut. Hmmm. “The Fatman?” “The what?” they asked. “Oh, I guess neither of you were around for Jake and the Fatman, were ya,” Bode muttered, not even sure he was around for that show. “Keep going.” Another deep breath and he found himself groaning as his shirt was pulled out. He tugged at it to no avail and grunted again, only succeeding in tearing the shirt off. Muscles bulged underneath his just-short-of-ponderous gut. Abs formed, and he rubbed it. All solid muscle. This was so strange… “A sumo wrestler?” Freddie called. “Right!” Porter called out. Bode clapped a hand to Freddie’s back. “Good job, son!” he enthused. Freddie blushed. “Thanks, Mister Arnell,” he said, getting up to take his turn. ‘Mister Arnell’? Since when did Brode qualify as a mister anything? He wasn’t… he wasn’t old enough, was he? Brode frowned as Freddie began to pose and flex before the TV. The teenage muscles bulged and Brode grunted uncomfortably as his loins responded perhaps a bit too favorably. Freddie had been held back, so he was 18. He was legal. But… this was his son’s best friend. They were practically brothers. And wouldn't getting with Freddie be unfaithful to Alan? Wait. His son? Alan? What the hell was he thinking? His frown deepened as he looked back up to Freddie, who was now doing a pec bounce. Brode belched, feeling Coca-Cola bubbles simmering in his throat. Brode arched his back, his mouth dropping open. His chest felt so tight. He rolled his shoulders back, extended his arms a little, trying to stretch it out. But the muscles didn’t feel like they fit correctly under his skin. He could see little stretch marks forming around his shoulders and under his nipples. He hiccuped, and his chest heaved up, but it stayed raised and began to swell. His view of his lap and stomach vanished. Brode looked down agog at his pecs as they inflated, and suddenly they began bouncing in rhythm with Freddie’s. But now they were much bigger than Freddie’s, and growing still, stretching out enormous and thick like a couple of car tires. “It’s uh-” he said, staring at Freddie. He cupped his hands under his pecs, their weight now so ponderous that he was irrationally scared they were going to fall off. Freddie was making some odd gesture around his neck, little flicks with his fingers. “He’s, uhhh, wearing a necklace?” Porter asked. Freddie shook his head no. Brode felt a tickle and looked down to see hair suddenly flowering out over his pecs. He grinned. Long curls erupted through his skin, covering it in a healthy coating of fluff, just enough to poke through all his collars. He liked being hairy. Freddie raised his arms high above his head. “I think,” Brode said, easing up onto his feet, “that you’re impersonating me!” And as he announced it, his body began stretching upward, muscle exploding out of his mountainous frame, until his chest was eye-level for Freddie – no mean feat, seeing that Freddie was six feet tall. He stared down at the neighbor boy with a grin. “Pretty good, kid. I liked the chest hair bit.” He scratched at his furry pecs and bounced them for Freddie, who stared hungrily. “I love your-” Freddie started to say, before realizing what he had almost admitted in front of Porter. He went crimson and sat down, leaving Brode towering over the two older teens. He looked down at them – but couldn’t see them. All he saw was his chest. Unsure of how to continue, Brode tried to tap his chin as he pondered, but as he did, his lats exploded out, and his arms couldn’t quite move to meet his face. He grunted in irritation and stepped back a bit. Freddie was staring up at him adoringly. Brode grinned at him salaciously before his face fell. A tearing noise stopped everything else dead and he felt his big, fat dick slap his thighs. “Dude!” Porter yelped as Freddie moaned. Brode didn’t stick around to find out what he was moaning about, and beat a hasty retreat upstairs. His cock grew the whole way, hardening and snaking up to fit the underside of his musclegut. Thick, prominent veins snaked along its length and even fully hard the foreskin clung to the swollen head. It stopped around his bellybutton and as soon as Brode entered his room and plopped onto his bed, it exploded, shooting cum all over his tremendous ball gut. He bellowed in pleasure, tweaking one of his prominent nipples and leaning back, one hand furiously jerking his meat. Good God, this felt divine! After almost a minute of unloading, Brode fell back, panting and chuckling as he felt the cum on his hairy gut. Incredibly thick, sticky, and piping hot. God, he was a virile sonuvabitch. But… something felt wrong. This all felt wrong. The more he thought about it, the more wrong it felt, and his mind was soon reeling. He tried to marshal his thoughts. His name was… Brodae. No…? Wait… maybe? It might be Brady… He decided he’d come back to that. Age. Right, that was easy: he was, uh… 20? 30? No, wait! He was 45, definitely. Had his kid at 28. Wait, kid? Since when did he have a- oh, right, Porter! Good kid, made his old man proud in and out of the gym. But why couldn’t he shake the feeling Porter was his older brother? Shit… why was he so sure Porter was from his ex-wife Sheila? He tried to remember, and all that came to mind was a hard-fought custody battle, winning sole parental rights when Porter turned six… then Porter, himself, and his then-boyfriend Alan going out for a celebratory pizza. Porter had eaten until he’d gotten a tummy ache and Alan had held him all night long. Brodae chuckled at the memory, and gasped when he realized how deep his voice was. Loud and booming like a foghorn. It felt wrong. But why? WHY!? “Nothing makes sense anymore!” Brodae snarled, rubbing his bald head. Wait, when did he lose his hair? He had a full head of it… well, wait, he did, up until two years ago when Alan… oh. Oh, god, how could he forget his husband getting cancer? Brodae had shaved his head in solidarity once the chemo started, and kept doing it even after… after Alan had passed away. He and Porter still had nightmares about it sometimes… Brodae sat back, rubbing his eyes as they watered. It still hurt. It still didn’t feel entirely real. Had it really happened? He shook his head. Even if it wasn’t real, which he was sure it was, he couldn’t waste anymore tears on it. Moving forward. That’s what he had to do. No doubt he’d meet someone with as good as he looked! Wait, how did he look? The titan staggered to the mirror and gaped at his reflection in shock. Why did he have some kid’s face!? He moved his hands back up to run them over his smooth head. This gesture pushed his pecs up against his chin, smushed his deltoids against his cheeks, and exposed his furry pits. Another shot of cum splattered over the mirror and onto the floor. He had two voices in his head and both told him he wasn’t supposed to look like this. One was talking about his body – the hundreds of pounds of muscle – and the other was talking about the smooth baby face on top of that mountain of virility. He and Porter had both gotten so much bigger after Alan died. They’d taken their grief out on the gym. They still cried together, sometimes – Porter had come into Brodae’s bedroom just last week in the middle of the night, his handsome face wet with tears like a child’s, and he’d spent the night in Brodae’s embrace. They hadn’t mentioned it since. Brodae knew his boy wanted to be a strong man, but even strong men just needed to let it out now and then. “M-Mister Arnell?” Freddie’s voice was on the other side of the door. “The TV’s here…” Brodae opened the door, his naked body on full display. Freddie took a nervous step back. “I’m sorry, sir-” “Don’t apologize, son. Does Porter need me?” “I don’t think so,” Freddie said, walking into the room and shutting the door behind him. “I think he’s got… everything under control…” Freddie’s nose was almost buried between Brodae’s hairy pecs. He began kissing them. Brodae rubbed his head. “Thanks.” “I wanna… I wanna be just like you…” Freddie gurgled between kisses. He wrapped his lips around Brodae’s nipple and sucked as the big stud guided him over to the bed. Brodae stroked his dick and felt a rubbery texture. A condom. He pulled on Freddie’s shorts and yanked them off, and the teen fell back on the bed with a gasp, spreading his legs wide, staring up at Brodae’s angelic face, moaning and mewling with desire. Brodae groaned back, his jaw cracking. “Fuckin’ Christ!” he swore, rubbing it. It was now comically square, and it didn’t quite fit his face at all. He began to thrust into Freddie’s hole, and the teenager moaned his appreciation. Brodae’s face continued to change. His nose was wide and thick, jutting out and bending in the middle. Most would call it a hawk’s beak nose, but Brodae always thought of it more like an eagle’s beak. Big, majestic, and possessing impressively broad wings – just like Brodae (well, he had impressively broad lats, but the principle was similar). His lower lip plumped up a bit more than his upper one and his lower jaw jutted out a bit more, too. Combined with his heavy new brow and thick eyebrows, he’d look classically brutish if it wasn’t for his jaw and newly clefted chin. He looked downright superheroic. His thrusting was picking up speed, and both he and Freddie were moaning and hollering fit to bring the house down. It was a wonder Porter hadn’t run in with all the noise. Finally, with a roar that would make a gorilla duck for cover, Brodae came hard into Freddie’s tight hole. He shot rope after rope of thick cum deep inside his younger lover, then collapsed onto him, bringing him in for a kiss, his thicker stubble rubbing against Freddie’s. “This is wrong,” he rumbled, running a hand over Freddie’s hair. “Then I don’t wanna be right,” Freddie replied. It was cheesy, and they both grinned. “I just wanna be yours, Brodan.” “Son, you’ve been mine for a long time,” Brodan growled back, cupping the back of Freddie’s head with one hand and kissing him again. They laid like that for a little while, just cuddling and kissing with Brodan’s enormous prick lodged in Freddie’s hole, until Porter walked in. “Dad, I- WHAT THE FUCK!?” Brodan leapt up in surprise, pulling his dick out of Freddie so fast that the blond teen yelped. “Port!” he grunted. He’d… he’d forgotten… he was stark fucking naked… Brodan grabbed around for something to cover himself with. He found the only piece of fabric in the room big enough to cover him – a bedsheet. As soon as he swung it around his hulking form, it tightened around him like a cocoon, stitching itself together until it had become a men’s dress shirt, the same navy blue Brodan’s sheets had been. The buttons over Brodan’s chest fell open, displaying his hairy chest, while they pulled too tight over his bulging stomach. The shirt was tucked into a pair of gray trousers with a higher waist than any pants Brodan had worn before, but since he was a man now, this was how he would dress from now on. He was even sporting a nice pair of brown wingtip shoes all of a sudden. As lines webbed out around his eyes and a pair of trendy eyeglasses fell onto his nose, he looked every inch the superheroic dad he had molded himself to be. Porter blinked at his new father. Hadn’t he been… naked a second before? But no, that was silly… what had he and Freddie been doing…? He’d felt so embarrassed, but now that was only because he’d barged in. “Sorry, guys,” Porter said, “I should’ve knocked.” “S’fine. I just, uh, needed advice about something,” Freddie said, still feeling confusion over his newfound homosexuality. All he could think about was standing up and unbuttoning Mr. Arnell’s shirt and kissing him, worshiping him, sucking his enormous, porn star cock… And he looked at Porter, and Porter had that same chin, that same beefy chest that made his shirts too tight… fuck, Porter was so hot. Had he always looked like that? “You okay, buddy?” Brodan asked his son, with a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “The – the TV is here, they’ve set it up, you just have to sign for it.” Porter said. “No problem,” Brodan said, walking down the stairs, opening another button on his shirt and wiping some sweat off his gleaming bald head. “You Mister Arnell?” the deliveryman asked, dwarfed by Brodan’s immense size. “Call me Brogan,” the bodybuilder said, his pecs vibrating a bit bigger. He took the clipboard the deliveryman offered and signed. Another button popped off of Brogan’s shirt. The titan chuckled. “Sorry about that, brother! I lose more good shirts that way.” The deliveryman muttered something about a “freak” and ducked out. Brogan smirked at that. Yeah, he was a freak, and he loved every minute of it. Freddie and Porter entered as the door shut. “Niiice!” Porter declared, gazing at the television like it was his new best friend. Brogan laughed, but was cut off by his text jingle before he could reply. After a quick glance, he clapped a hand to Porter’s back. “I gotta run,” he grunted. “Work needs me. You be good while I’m gone, alright, big guy?” “Aren’t I always?” Porter replied, before hastily adding: “Don’t answer that. Have fun at work, pops.” “I always do. And don’t stay up all night watchin’ TV. You’ll rot your brain.” Brogan kissed his son’s forehead as Porter made token protests, then wrapped an arm around Freddie’s shoulder. “C’mon, kid.” “Wait, what?” Freddie asked as Porter did the same. “You wanted to be just like me, right? Well, you can start now. Besides, we should spend some quality time together, sport,” Brogan replied with a significant look, and Freddie picked up what he meant, nodding. He fell into step with Brogan and they were out the door before Porter could say any more. They hopped into the huge emerald green F-250 in the driveway – the same color as Brogan and Porter’s eyes – and roared off. The massive DILF glanced over to Freddie as they drove. “About what happened in the bedroom…” “It feels like a dream,” Freddie murmured. “One of the best dreams I’ve ever had. Whatever it was, I’m happy with it happening a lot more often,” Brogan rumbled. Seeing Freddie’s face light up, he laughed. “On a couple conditions, son.” “Name ‘em.” “We keep it secret until next summer and you make good on becoming just like me.” “Deal!” Freddie agreed. “I’m so excited! Like, you don’t even know, sir!” “Simmer down, sport,” Brogan chuckled, turning out of town. Freddie looked confused and Brogan’s smile broadened. “You thought we were going to the gym, right?” “Uh, yeah…” “Well, tough luck. Actually, we’re starting on my other job.” The F-250 pulled into the parking lot of a brick building bearing a pink neon sign. It read “Poker in the Rear” and a man’s hand poking a woman’s shapely rear end. Below that read: “Saturday: Gay Night! Sunday: Lesbian Night!” Freddie blinked a few times before turning to Brogan with a broad grin. “Oh, hell yeah!” Brogan laughed and gave Freddie a deep kiss. “That’s what I like to hear, my love. Now c’mon, I’m on in 20 and you got a front row seat.” “Sweet. Can I maybe get a private lap dance later?” Brogan smirked at Freddie. “You have to ask?” – Well, with Tumblr deciding it knows better than consenting adults a few years ago, I figure it was high time I posted all my stories from there – and some new ones! – over here on MG. I do plan on continuing my Sean series as well, if only for the novelty of fanfiction about other series in the community. Well, that, and I have had that planned out with varying levels of detail for years now. That said, if you enjoyed this story then like it, upvote it, or gimme some thanks. If you wanna be in my good books, maybe even give me some feedback! Also… remember the name Harry Greco. This isn’t the last you’ll be hearing of that party. - Trav

Part One “You realize that every time I fuck you I grow.” “What?” I asked, looking up at him as I searched for a specific pan I loved to use to make omelets. “Each time I bang your hole I grow. It’s slight, but I can tell. I’m also stronger the next day in the gym,” he replied and I suddenly realized he was being serious. “It’s like you feed me, somehow . . . or feed my muscles.” “Dude, it’s just your imagination . . . or a little leftover thrill of how good I am,” I said smiling. “You are good – the best I’ve ever had, as a matter of fact, - but this isn’t imaginary. Since I’ve been dating you I’ve added an inch to my arms and it’s not been that long. I’ve added the kind of muscle weight I never imagined I would. I thought I had plateaued – but you’ve taken me through that glass ceiling. I’m growing, man, and it happens after we make love. I can feel it happening, now. All because of us throwing it down in the bedroom this morning. I’m heavier, too.” “Oh,” I said, “maybe I shouldn’t make omelets, then.” “It’s muscle, babe – I weigh more because I’m gaining muscle.” This thought immediately turned me on. Looking at his huge muscled body and contemplating that it was getting bigger . . . heavier . . . stronger – well, that was almost too much for a petite, bulge-loving, always a bottom to comprehend. He smiled – simply because he saw in my eyes that I was beginning to understand. I stood up and placed the pan on the stove. It was only at this moment that I wondered why this information was being shared. He stepped closer – towering over me in height and size. Just one hour ago his huge body had been pounding mine into my mattress – making me feel all wonderful inside. I took advantage of this new information and treaded in a previously unchartered territory. “So, it goes to reason that if you grow from having sex with me, then we should be doing it a lot more.” “That would make sense . . . don’t you think. I mean, I would like to grow. Wouldn’t you want me bigger?” he answered, realizing we were thinking of the same thing. “And logically, that would mean if we . . . let’s say . . . lived together you could basically plow me any time we were both home.” “Yes, that seems logical,” he answered, moving so close that huge bulging pectorals almost pressed up against me. “Are you saying you’d like to live together . . . and get bigger?” I asked. “Are you inviting me to live here and would you like me to get bigger?” he asked, looking down at me. “Is all of you getting bigger?” I asked, teasingly, and then ran my tongue across my upper lip. “Definitely, all of me,” he answered, wrapping his vein-covered monstrous arms around my body. “Hmmmmm, that sounds nice. But what would you tell your Baptist preacher dad and your entire Bible-thumping family?” I said, snuggling up against his hard body. “I’d tell them I live with my boyfriend,” he said, bending down to kiss my forehead. “Maybe, you should also tell them that I’m making you grow,” I suggested. “They think I’m too big already.” “Is that even possible? Being too big,” I asked. “Are you going to tie my shoes when I can’t bend over?” he said. “We’ll get you flip flops,” I answered. We stood there for a while – his big arms squeezing me, comfortably. I was already so small next to him. I began to fantasize what it would be like when he was ten times my size. I’m pretty sure he was fantasizing the same thing, for his hefty tool was beginning to stiffen and push my crotch away from him. It did feel bigger, or was that just my imagination . . . or wishful thinking. His pecs made the best pillows. I stood there, motionless – suddenly wishing we were back in bed. “How did you notice you were bigger?” I asked, my face deep in the crevice between his pecs. “My t-shirts are tighter. Hell, even my underwear is tighter. My head is closer to the top of the doorframe. You seem much smaller.” “All of that turns me on,” I replied. “Everything turns you on, my little Boo,” he said, laughing, and his big chest bounced up and down. “Everything about you,” I quickly added. “I want you to move in.” “I’m thinking it would be ideal,” he answered. “Just because you’ll get bigger?” I asked. “I shouldn’t lie – that’s a major part of it, but also . . . I don’t like sleeping alone. I don’t like cooking for one. I don’t like knowing you’re not in the next room. I don’t like being a big and strong man without someone to show off for . . . to cuddle . . . to fill with my hard meat.” “You always know the right things to say,” I said, almost purring. “Marry me.” “What?” I asked, pulling my upper body away from his and looking up at him. “Make an honest man of me . . . marry me,” he repeated. “Your family will murder me. You - marrying a poor, short, white, Catholic boy from a hick town in Tennessee. To a well-established Brooklyn family with lots of money, that’s quite a step down. Are you sure, growing big is worth the estrangement?” “Poor? You sold a start-up for an insane amount of money and own a beautiful brownstone.” “Yeah, but my parents used to live in a trailer. Not that there’s anything wrong with a trailer. I remember dating a cute boy named Bobby from Kentucky who lived in a trailer. He had the biggest . . .” “Biggest what?” he asked, squeezing me hard. “Biggest cock,” I said with the little breath remaining in my lungs and then quickly added, “until I met you, of course.” “That’s better,” he said relaxing his squeeze. “You still haven’t answered my question.” “Oh, I thought it was rhetorical. I’ve been trying to get you to move in here for months.” “That’s not the question I’m talking about,” he replied and squeezed his arms teasingly – as if I would be crushed again. “Ohhhhhh, THE question. Let’s see, do I want to marry a guy with arms so big that I can’t reach around them with both my hands put together? Do I want to marry a guy with such a protruding chest that when he’s coming around a corner you see his nipples a good ten seconds before you see the rest of him? Do I want to marry a guy that got down on the floor the other day and had me stand on his abs so he could get in a workout by lifting me up and down as he tensed his stomach? Do I want to marry a guy that plows me so expertly that quite often after sex my voice is completely gone because I have moaned and yelled so much? Do I want to marry the guy that just told me he is growing – in size and strength – every time he welcomingly invades my body with his gorgeous, giant, manly tool? Is that the question you want me to answer?” “Yes, please.” “The answer is yes . . . yes, a thousand times yes. Marrying you would make me the happiest man on earth. Wait, I’m already that guy . . . this will just make it even better.” I knew my answer would make him squat a little, letting his arms drop down to my waist, and then lift my small body into the air. He loved picking me up. He did it as often as he could or as often as I’d let him. Sometimes, he’d even tell me to get onto his back while he did normal chores. There I’d be – piggyback riding his monstrous frame while he brushed his teeth or made a sandwich. No evening was complete, either, if he didn’t get to do at least twenty reps pressing my body into the air as he lay on the floor. He said it was his favorite way to build his chest. I wrapped my legs around his strong, hard core and let my stiff cock press against his cobbled stomach. I was always in danger of exploding when my tool rubbed against the stone-like ridges. He looked down at me, completely accepting the fact that we were now betrothed – destined to be together. He clearly wanted to return to our original conversation. “I can feel the billions of cells in my body reproducing over and over – making new layers of muscle. It’s like metal hardening as it cools or lava bubbling up and then turning to stone. I’m getting thicker and bigger – kind of like how my cock responds when you are around. Yeah, my entire body is getting a hard-on for you – but it won’t go away even when I calm down. I’ll still be bigger and denser. I can’t even begin to explain the pleasure it gives me . . . that you give me.” “I don’t know, buddy – hanging on to your monstrous traps is giving me lots of pleasure. Maybe I get a small glimpse of what you’re feeling. You do feel bigger, though. I’ve hung on to your body so many times that I have the shape of every bulge memorized. My hands have to be wider to grip places where I’ve grabbed before. And you seem a lot harder, if that’s possible.” “It is. I can feel the same thing from the inside, as well. I think you’re going to turn me into something . . . I don’t know . . . maybe indestructible.” “Yeah, I like the sound of that,” I replied, rubbing my crotch harder against his abs. “I want to get big, that’s for sure, but my desire for hugeness is tied much more to you than my own desires. I want to be big for you. It’s something that grows stronger within me every time we make love. It’s like I’m destined for greatness, but that greatness somehow involves you. It’s like all my life – growing big as a teenager and beyond – was leading up to the point where I met you. I was laying a foundation for the true size, definition, and power that would build in me after I was with you. We’re connected in some way – through a long history going back thousands of years. I can feel it – in every fiber of my growing body.” His words felt like some giant page of my life’s story had just been turned and a huge plot twist had been revealed. The feelings he spoke of were the same in me, as well – suddenly awakened by his awareness being shared. We were deeply connected in some way that could not be explained, yet alone, fully understood. It was as if he was being increased to be my protector – my bodyguard . . . and, yet, so much more. I could feel his skin – ever so slightly – stretching beneath my hands. He was, indeed, growing . . . getting thicker. It was mindboggling. How was it even possible for a man’s body to thicken? The idea of his muscle meat getting denser and denser – making him expand, making him get stronger – made me want to have him constantly plowing me. Knowing that from now on I would be able to detect the changes – maybe it will be slightly more difficult to wrap my arms around him, maybe my hands would have to be spread much wider to grab his biceps, or maybe the full weight of him on top of me will become unbearable. I looked forward to all of this. He watched my face as my mind fully explored what could happen to him. He understood everything that was racing through my head. “I now know my sole purpose for living . . . it is you. I let you claim me completely. I offer my muscles, my knowledge, my love in service to you. I exist to make you safe, happy, and satisfied. You are my priority. We are no longer two . . . we are one.” The big man had clearly entered into some realm that was beyond me. He was speaking to me, but he was saying the words as if his brain was confirming some pre-programmed mantra. He sounded like a machine – hell, he looked like a muscle machine, but this was different. He seemed to be speaking as if another being had taken over his body and was telling him what to say. The huge man, when finished with his words, put me down and knelt in front of me. It was confounding, to say the least. It was also slightly unnerving. And then it was gone. He looked up at me and smiled. “What are you doing?” I asked. “What do you mean?” “Why are you on your knees?” I continued. “To make the proposal legit,” he answered, tensing his pecs to cause a stirring in my groin. “I already said yes,” I answered. “Yeah, well I guess I just wanted to seal the deal,” he responded as he stood up – his humongous bulk giving off warmth and making me feel small. “Um . . . you kind of went away for a few minutes and said some crazy sounding things about me being your priority and the two of us are now one. It was a little spooky.” “What are you talking about, dude?” he said, wrapping his big arms around my waist again. “I just went down on bended knee to tell you I love you.” “Which was nice, of course, but then you looked weird and said…” “Shhhh, my everything. I sense danger,” the big man said, as he interrupted me to tilt his head upward – as if listening to something in the distance. “When I tell you to move, my love – I want you to go to the bedroom and get under the bed. Do not come out until you hear my voice tell you to.” “What are you talking about….” My question was suddenly interrupted by something plowing through the concrete wall a few feet from my head. The sound was deafening. I looked over to see that it was a fist – attached to a large arm. The thing had just plowed through the wall like a sledgehammer doing demolition work. My big lover’s arms released me immediately and the huge man sprang into action. He grabbed the wrist of the arm sticking through the wall with both of his hands and jerked inward with what I knew was a tremendous force. I heard the body that was attached to the arm slam into the other side of the wall outside of our apartment. I heard a gust of breath leave whomever was attached to the arm and I saw the wall of my apartment buckle inward as if a big wrecking ball had pounded the other side. My lover had just pulled someone into the concrete with enough force to make an indention the size of a big body. I briefly contemplated the fact that the arm had not come ripping off. “Go! Now!” my big lover said firmly, but softly, and before I left I saw him push the arm outward and then jerk it back in again with more force than before, making the body on the other side slam into the caved concrete wall for a second time.

MY GRANDAD’S MUSCLES [Omnibus Edition with a new instalment coming soon] My father’s father became a recluse after his wife died. I never saw much of my grandparents growing up, but Grandad had a good reason for not showing up for Granny’s funeral. It was because my deadbeat father was there, and that was enough of an excuse. They’d hated each other. My father was never sober for more than a few hours at a time. My mother was just as bad, only her poison of choice were prescription painkillers chased down with as much weed as she could get hold of. So yeah, Grandad sold his business in the city and moved west to run a farm. It had always been his dream to completely get out of the rat race and live off the grid. We wrote to each other after he moved away. To be honest, I’d not seen much of him as a kid. He was always busy running his gyms. He had four of them. Once he’d even offered my father an olive branch by giving him his own gym to manage, if only he’d get off the booze. But dear old Anthony Ridge was too far gone, and his liver was on its last legs. Alcohol doesn’t just destroy your body and mind. It also wrecks family units. Speaking of ‘units’, we lost our home in 2010 because our mortgage arrears were crazy, so we had to move into a unit in a trailer park after the bank took back what was theirs. I didn’t really mind. There was just the three of us. And the unit was small enough not to accumulate too many possessions that could be thrown around during drink-fuelled rows. At least my father never raised his hand to me. He fell asleep one night with a lit cigarette in his mouth. My mother had already collapsed into bed, high from her cocktail of back pain meds and weed. I was staying over at my friend Rod’s place, which was what saved my life. By the time the fire brigade got the fire under control, the unit was just a smouldering shell of its former self. After my parents were laid to rest, at a modest ceremony attended mostly by my mother’s side of the family, I got a letter from my Grandad. He wasn’t one for using phones, so letters were his thing. He asked me how I was doing. I was staying at Rod’s; he’d been my crush since early secondary school, and for a time it was just me and him. But now he’d gotten Cindy Fleming up the duff, and both of them just just gone 18, so things weren’t good between Rod and his folks. Too many arguments. And since the unforeseen pregnancy Rod and me started quarrelling more than I cared for. When I told this to my Grandad in a letter, the reply I got back inside of a week said simply: “Come and live with me.” The letter came with train fare and a map on how to reach the farm. I had just finished my final exams at secondary school, so it was either get a job at a fast food place, or go live with my hermit grandparent. I really didn’t have great prospects, and Rod and me were drifting in different directions anyway. I decided to accept my Grandad’s offer. I took with me only what I could carry. Rod’s dad wanted to drive me to the station, but I declined. I needed to stand on my own two feet anyway. Besides, the train station was only a few minutes away by bus. The train ride took three hours. I arrived in the quaint village of Dundrevan just when it started to rain. It was a little after four in the afternoon. I took shelter in a tavern not far from the station. It was a poky little place; only two customers, one an elderly man nursing a pint in a corner. The other was a guy about my age, very handsome, but clearly drunk. Just as I entered, the barman was advising him he’d had enough to drink and to stop tearing up beer mats and flicking the pieces everywhere. “Do you do hot food?” I asked the barman. Only toasted sandwiches were served here, but I hadn’t eaten since breakfast at Rod’s, so anything would be welcomed. So I had a toasted cheese and ham sandwich and pot of tea. I never touch alcohol; I vowed from an early age never to turn into my father. When the rain stopped I decided to follow the map route to the farm. It was about a mile outside the village, but I didn’t mind the walk. The sun had come out and it even started to get a bit warm. I considered taking my shirt off; we Ridge men are blessed with really great genetics. I didn’t work out at all, but I looked like I did. Although my skin was a tad milky, my chest and abs were quite defined. I had a bit of muscle on me, and I wasn’t afraid to show it off. But this place was really deserted, so no one would see me. Or so I thought. I made my way down a narrow laneway with honeysuckle bushes to my left, and seemingly endless wooden fencing with the bark left on, to my right. At the end of the lane I was about to pass a phone box, when someone stepped out of it and looked at me as though he’d known me all his life. “Fuck me, lad. If you’re not related to big Gordie Ridge, then I’m a monkey’s uncle.” The man was in his forties, a bit overweight, with a comb-over to hide his bald patch. His shirt looked like it hadn’t been ironed, ever, and he smelt of onions. But he seemed jolly, and at least he wasn’t carrying a knife with intent to rob me of my duffel bag. “Er, he’s my Grandad. I’m going to stay with him at his farm,” I said simply. He was right in the sense that facially I looked more like my Grandad than my father. “Well now, this is the thing. You’ve got quite the walk ahead of you, lad. And you might want to cover yourself up there. You have to pass the convent and you’ll give the nuns heart attacks with all those muscles on ya!” I liked this man immensely. “I’m not really that muscled,” I said, feigning bashfulness. Like I said, I didn’t work out. What I had on me was a natural thing passed down. Pity my late father decided to abuse his body rather than maximise on what nature gifted him with. “Well no… no you’re not, if you don’t really mind me saying. But the folks around here are somewhat in awe of Gordie Ridge. He’s like a folk legend around these parts. But you can tell you’re a chip off his block, definitely. My name’s Silas, by the way. Silas Brandywine at your service.” “I’m Stephen. Stephen Ridge,” I said, putting my shirt back on. I didn’t want any nun fatalities on my conscience. “Why are people in awe of my Grandad?” I thought back to when I last saw him. I was seven, so ten years ago. He was big, then, but nothing jaw-dropping, although back then I viewed him through the eyes of a kid. I remember seeing weight-lifting trophies at his house, but I’d only been there a couple of times. Silas eyed me with a twinge of curiosity that made his eyes gleam and his ruddy complexion to bloom as he concentrated his visual summary of me. “Haven’t seen him recently, have we, Stephen Ridge?” The community police officer in an archaic Fiat Panda trundled past, sounded the horn at Silas, who summarily waved back. This was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone, and was about two decades behind the rest of the world. “Not since I was a nipper, Silas,” I chirped, trying to be pleasant. I was tired from the journey, but I was grateful for not having a short fuse. “Oh well then, I might give ye a bit of advice, kiddo.” Silas drew closer to me as though he were about to reveal the secret to life itself. “When you faint at the sight of him, make sure you land on something soft, lest you crack your head right open to let out the shock.” “Er, okay… I think.” I decided to continue on my way. I stopped just before the convent. A mischievous thought ran through my mind in which I was topless once again and flirting with the nuns working in their apiary, causing them to come over all flushed and taken by my boyish good looks. I decided against it. Did they even have an apiary? For some reason I believed that all monks and nuns kept bees. After the convent the map told me to cross a field as a shortcut. I walked for another fifteen minutes, maybe. Then I came to a red iron gate, recently painted by the looks of it. A sign nearby said: “Ridge Farm. Keep Out!” So I’d arrived. I wondered how many acres of land my Grandad owned. It was the only farm for miles around. I couldn’t see any livestock, but maybe he wasn’t that kind of farmer. Then I saw the out-buildings beyond a range of oak trees. There were three white, rectangular sheds; obviously these were the nucleus of Grandad’s farming enterprise. Beyond that nothing but trees, trees, and more trees. The house itself was typically rural, probably a hundred years old or more. There was a barn and a pen in the courtyard with six pigs in it. So maybe he was a pig farmer. But if so why did he only own six pigs? My Grandad was in the barn. I could hear him singing, although I couldn’t put a name to the tune. There was a lot of clanking of metal, and grunting to go along with the singing. I didn’t want to frighten him by just appearing at the door; he was in his sixties, after all. Isn’t it dangerous to sneak up on an old person? Then I noticed an old-fashioned bell sitting on a windowsill up at the house. I opted to use it to announce my presence. The grunting, singing, and clanking noises ceased. I’d gotten my Grandad’s attention. He came out of the barn. I looked at him. My breathing seized up. Silas Brandywine had been right about one thing. I fainted. *** When I came to I was lying on a couch in what could only be the living room of the farmhouse. I immediately noticed the renovations; the door frames were taller and wider than standard door frames. The ceiling, too, looked higher than you’d expect a ceiling to be. The interior furnishings were rustic and old fashioned. A painting of a milkmaid milking a cow hung over a spartan mantel. A grandfather clock in a corner ticked somnolently. Shafts of dying sunlight permeated the room in which dust motes seemed to hang, fixed rigidly in time itself. I instinctively felt my head for evidence of injury, but there was none. I was thankful for that. As my senses grew more attuned to my surroundings, my nose picked up the delicious smell of… was it beef stew? I got up from the couch, a little wobbly on my feet, but I soon regained my balance. I followed the smell of the stew to the large kitchen at the rear of the house. It needed to be big, because my Grandad was, well… HUGE! He was shirtless, save for an apron which he let hang untied at the back. His back was the widest, most muscular back I’d ever seen. And there wasn’t a hair on his back or shoulders, unlike my dad who seemed to have gotten the hairy gene from my grandmother’s side. He wore khaki cargo shorts and was barefooted. I gauged his height to be between 6’ 10 and 7’; the Ridge men had always been tall. I myself stood at an impressive 6’ 4”. At 18 I probably wasn’t done growing yet. My dad had stopped growing at 6’ 5”, the waster. He could have been impressive, instead of a deadbeat. Gordon Ridge wasn’t a weight-lifter; well, maybe he was in his younger days. But now he was utterly a bodybuilder, and the biggest, most muscular man I’d ever seen. “Uh...Grandad?” “Hope you’re hungry. My beef stew is the best in the world, Stephen. You’re probably famished from your trip.” My Grandad turned around. I feel terrible for admitting this, but my dick instantly firmed up at the sight of him. Yeah, I know we’re related, but I wasn’t prepared for what he had built of himself. I blamed my stiffy on a chemical impulse in my brain, or something like that. He was incredibly handsome. So what if he was sixty-four? He’d been stunning-looking in his youth, as I recall. Time had been good to his brand of handsomeness, with lines of age in his face that would look destructively hampering on others. But on him they gave him a wisdom that commanded respect, along with his obvious size and strength. Thank heavens I hadn’t tucked in my shirt; it hid my arousal well. I really didn’t want Grandad to get a ‘pervy’ vibe from me. I didn’t want him to know I’m gay, not yet anyway. I had no idea what he thought of such things. I hoped he wasn’t a homophobe like my father was. “I could use a hot meal, thanks.” I tried not to stammer. But he could clearly tell I was astonished by how he looked. He was overwhelming. “You’ve grown up well, Stephen. You were only a bean when last I saw you. What are you, six three, six four?” “Four,” I replied shakily. Grandad’s smile was warm and reassuring. I had nothing to fear here. “I was shorter than you at that age. But as you can see, a lot of growth came later.” He wasn’t smug, or modest, so when his arm raised up to form a single bicep pose, I think he did it without realising. A huge, melon-ball bicep formed and bulged upon his command. My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. He picked up on this and played it down with a chuckle. All he said was: “Thirty-one inches. So far.” He winked proudly and went back to tending to the stew. He suggested I wash up before supper. He told me where the bathroom was. I was so relieved to get up there so that I would masturbate, get that over with, and, hopefully, keep my arousal to a minimum. This is purely chemical with me. There is no way I would allow myself to develop an unhealthy attraction to my own progenitor. When I returned to the kitchen, there was a big bowl of stew waiting for me. Grandad was already seated on the other end of the big oak table. He tore off a chunk of bread from a sizable loaf before handing it over to me. “I like to dip the bread in and use it like a spoon. Then I just drink down the remainder out of the bowl. I don’t get many guests up here,” he said between chews. A quivering smile formed on my lips, so I decided to copy his method, and dipped some bread into the stew. It was very tasty, and he didn’t skimp on the beef either. The obvious elephant in the room was his physique, but he didn’t seem interested in bringing it up during our first meal together. “Thank you for taking me in, Grandad. I was at a bit of a crossroads,” I said. I can’t remember ever eating a meal this good. My mother had never been one for cooking. Dinner had almost always been take-out back then. Living at Rod’s had been better, but because both his parents worked, dinner was usually more convenient than nutritious. This was new to me. I ate three big hunks of bread and finished all the stew in my bowl whilst Grandad helped himself to seconds, and then thirds. “Sorry, but I have to eat big to stay big,” he said, after demolishing the third bowl. He let out a very loud and very manly belch, then leaned back in his big farmhouse chair and patted his cobbled belly. He still had the apron on. I really hoped he’d remove it. But sitting opposite him gave me plenty of time to take in the enormity of this man. He really was a super-human in every sense of the word. His rugged, handsome head was supported by the thickest bull-neck I’d ever seen. It just seemed to widen as it sloped down to his mammoth traps, and they in turn sat on shoulders capped with thick, rippled deltoids. He had to be at least five feet wide at the shoulders, maybe more. His chest was just beautiful; thick, bloated pectoral masses that made the neck of the apron look like a length of yarn threaded through a handkerchief. I loved the way he had to lean forward and hunker down over his bowl so as not to get any stew on the table. This position highlighted his shoulders best, for he flexed and bulged his muscles without thinking. His biceps and forearms looked powerful enough to snap concrete blocks in two (I had no idea as to feats of strength he’d demonstrate for me later). “Um, you don’t wear shirts then?” Oh why did I go and ask that? I could’ve asked him about the farm, and what he did here, but I had to let my dick do the talking instead. I hope he didn’t take offence. He smiled and ran a finger around his bowl to pick up the last dregs of stew, which he then sucked clean. His bad manners at the table made him human. His muscles made him a god. “I mostly wear just jockstraps when I’m alone here. I get them specially made. Really comfortable and with just the best support a man can get. But the shorts are out of respect for you being here.” Oh my god, I felt myself thinking. That is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard. I think I needed to wank again. My Grandad was not only super-huge, he was super-sexy. I had to think about the nuns at the convent I’d passed earlier, running around in only their knickers whilst chased by swarms of angry bees. That helped with my arousal a little. “I wear jocks sometimes. Rod and me were on the school rugby team, but we sucked at it.” I just wanted to keep the subject of jockstraps alive. “Who’s Rod?” “My best friend. I was living with him and his family for a bit after the… you know.” I didn’t want to bring up the subject of the fire. I knew enough about Gordon Ridge to know that he never discussed anything to do with his son. “It was good of them to put you up like that. But I’m kin. Your place is with me now.” Grandad got up to clear the bowls into the sink. He emptied what was left of the stew into a plastic container and placed it in the fridge. I helped by washing up. Later Grandad said he was going back to the barn. “What do you get up to there?” I asked, as if I didn’t already know. “Bodybuilding,” said Grandad with a smirk. He took off the apron and chucked it into a basket he kept for dirty laundry. I could finally get a proper look at his torso. Every muscle was just popping out of him. He was ripped beyond belief, but carried immense size also. I couldn’t begin to guess at his weight, but he was at least three times as big as a Mr Olympia super-heavyweight competitor. Why the hell did he shy away from public life and waste all this muscle on a lonely farm in the middle of nowhere? If I looked like him I’d be all over the internet, doing talk shows, winning trophies, being fucking amazing and loving every moment. I guess he had his reasons. “Oh Grandad, you’re enormous,” I couldn’t keep myself from mouthing. He smiled warmly, his face creasing up with wrinkles that only complimented his good looks. “One day, maybe,” he said simply. My erection bloomed under my shirt. The thought of this white-haired behemoth actually getting bigger than he was now almost made me bust a nut there and then. “You… you, don’t think you’re… er… big enough?” I stammered. My cock hurt inside my shorts. It needed adjusting. “Nope… not by a mile, Stephen.” And to illustrate his point he flexed a most muscular which caused alarmingly defined muscularity to burst from his skin. Every last part of him heaved with muscle clarity, and as he grunted and groaned — leaning into the pose with rising force — his face and neck flared red from the effort. He kept flexing, demanding more blood to course into his muscle fibers. I felt my own blood coursing as I witnessed this incredible spectacle. “I’ll never be big enough,” he grunted, this time changing to a full lat spread pose. His upper body widened and thickened; his pecs heaved upward and deep striations cracked across their mighty surfaces. He partially rolled up his shorts before lifting his arms to clasp the back of his head with his hands. He then pulled his abs taut. They almost crunched with definition. He rolled his mighty thighs one after the other, and the clusters of muscles there boiled with size and ferocious power. He relaxed and flexed, alternating between the two in order to give me quite the show. I don’t think he was aware of his own erection, but I could see the tenting happening in the front of his khakis. It didn’t feel weird. We were two guys hanging out, right? Then he said: “Come to the barn. Watch me lift.” My mouth formed an aghast “O” shape. I was related to probably the biggest bodybuilder in the world, and now he was inviting me to watch him lift. I had two choices: I could accept his invitation, and, hopefully find some way to ‘relieve’ myself again without him noticing, or I could run for the hills back to Rod’s place and put all this out of my mind. But Grandad had shown me nothing but kindness, so it would have been wrong of me to run out on him, especially now that night was fast approaching. Once the pigs were put into their night enclosure, Grandad and me went into the barn. It smelt a little of pig-shit, but he filled his lungs with a great deal of it and it seemed to energise him a little. I supposed I’d have to get used to the smells of farm life. It was as typical a barn as barns come, although there was a squat rack, bench, and free weights present. As he lit oil lamps I could see more things, specifically a leg press machine and another for doing lat pull-downs. He pretty much had his own gym here; he used to be in the business so he used what he needed to isolate every muscle-group. But there was nothing magical about the set-up here. How, then, did he get so big? There was also a scale in the barn, one you see at livestock fairs. Obviously a standard human scale was too small for my Grandad. He stepped out of his shorts and flung them over his shoulder. It was as though he was suddenly unaware that he had a guest. He went over to the scale and stood confidently on the pressure pad. “Hunngh! Only five up from yesterday,” he grunted. He looked disappointed. “Five… pounds?” I couldn’t believe what I’d heard. But then he’d just eaten a lot of food, so the scale was obviously picking up on that. “I gained fifteen pounds on Wednesday. That was a good day. Only five since yesterday. Gotta lift now, Stephen”. Oh well, at least he was aware of me again. The jockstrap looked amazing on him. It was white and black; the thick black waistband married well with the white pouched front and supporting straps at the rear. He was beautiful to look at. Every last inch of him was manliness exaggerated beyond belief. And as he muscle-waddled over to the bench to begin his evening presses, his dick meat and weighty gonads bobbed and swung heavily before him. He was very hung, but then, so was I. Well, not as much as he was, but I had a dick worthy of a porn-star. Those Ridge genes again. Fifteen pounds, did he say? But such gains so quickly were impossible. Maybe there was something in the water. But if that were so, then the few people I’d so far met from the village didn’t reflect this theory. It had to be something else. I couldn’t chalk it up to just genetics alone. If that was the reason, then… did it mean that I, too, had the potential to look like Grandad? I was stunned to silence as I watched him deftly load up the bar with crazy amounts of weight. I did a quick count of the plates and added the weight up to be… fuck… a metric tonne? Could a bar really hold that much? Maybe this gear was specially reinforced for Grandad. Didn’t he need a spotter? He positioned himself correctly on the bench, and gripped the bar firmly enough to make his knuckles glow white. He eased it off the rests and took the strain. It wobbled a little at first, but as his confidence grew, so did his strength. He let the bar come down near his enormous pecs. Then he pressed up, slowly at first, but once a rhythm kicked in, a man/machine synergy came into effect. I watched Grandad own the iron, play with it like it was a toy, and press it repeatedly, over and over. It was as if his chest grew with every inhalation, every measured, controlled movement. And when he exhaled, it was audibly masculine in its output. By the time he’d hit his seventieth or eightieth rep, he was screaming like a man possessed. I actually felt a little scared of him at this point, but I was as rigid as my erection, now, transfixed to the spot and unable to stop myself from being ‘blown away’ by the power of my father’s father. He got up from the bench when he was done, and flexed his pecs a few times. Then he cupped each one firmly and felt up their combined mass. “Good pump there,” he said simply. He pounded them a little, like the way gorillas sometimes do with their chests. It was so manly. I turned around to adjust my junk in my pants. Grandad didn’t seem to notice. He’d already moved over to the leg press. The machine was set to two tonnes. I couldn't believe the numbers. “Climb on up, Stephen. I could do with the extra weight,” Grandad said with a smirk. “Oh, er….I,” I didn’t know what to say. I suddenly felt awkward. And I really wanted to shoot another load. “I hope you’re not afraid of heights, lad. You’ll be helping me out around the place, and some of the work will involve climbing. You’ll have to get used to it.” His tone was more adamant-sounding now. I was fine with it. I wasn’t one for freeloading off my generous grandfather and had every intention of pulling my weight and doing my fair share (whatever that turned out to be). “Er, okay. I’ll get right up there, Grandad,” I responded. I gingerly climbed up onto the carriage of the machine. Not the most comfortable thing to sit on, I must add. I had to somehow wedge my arse between the weights and the foot plate, although my feet occupied the side of the foot plate opposite where Grandad’s feet were positioned confidently and correctly. Looking down at him from this angle — where he was seated at an incline — he was all chest and groin, both of which bulged almost obscenely. He was clearly erect himself, but that was fine. We were two guys hanging out, right? He was just showing off, getting me to climb onto the carriage. I mean, I only weigh about 225, so my weight on top of two fucking tonnes was negligible. “Ready? Hang on to your britches,” said Grandad. And he began to take the strain. At first I thought he was going to tear some muscles and lose to the weight. I had visions of tumbling off the thing. But this didn’t happen. He began to push the colossal weight; it barely looked as if he was straining. His face showed only determination; other than that it was devoid of emotion. He almost looked disappointed at how easily his juggernaut legs pushed both the weight and his grandson upwards, over and over. I held on as best I could, but after thirty or so repetitions, I began to feel seasick. Grandad sensed this and decided to let me off. “The machine is maxed out. I'll need a new one designed. Maybe there's a way to lash two together, one for each leg.” He suddenly seemed lost in thought. “Your legs definitely got a good pump there,” I remarked, and this seemed to please my progenitor to the point where he blasted out one pose after another. I wanted to ask him what his secret was. But I decided it could wait. I needed to use the toilet in order to ‘rub one out’ again. But before I could leave the barn: “So you like your old Grandad’s physique, huh?” Grandad bounced his hefty pecs over and over. I couldn’t help but notice how his cock was so swollen and hard, it had pushed the waistband of the jockstrap away from his body. I felt inwardly disgusted for allowing my gaze to linger there. If he noticed, he didn’t seem to care. “You’re like nothing I’ve ever seen before.” He came over to me and ruffled my brown hair, like he did when I was seven. I didn’t mind if he still saw me as that little kid from ten years ago. “Ever thought about bodybuilding?” I shrugged. Sure, I had inherited the best genetics a guy could ever hope for. Maybe I could do more with my body. “Not really. I just try to focus on not ending up like dad!” SHIT, I shouldn’t have mentioned him in Grandad’s presence. “That alcoholic piece of CRAP!!!!!” Grandad’s temper erupted. From what I knew of him, I’d always seen him as an easy-going, never angry type. But now… He swelled up in size; was it my imagination or did he really have the power to ‘hulk out’? He did that growling “Incredible Hulk” pose you often saw the character do on the show just before the Hulk ripped off the remains of his shirt and after Bixby changed into Ferrigno,. Muscles and veins bulged hugely under his skin. There was the back half of a broken tractor just outside the barn. He jogged over to it and began to lift it off the ground. How much did half a tractor weigh anyway? Seething with anger, my grandfather lifted the machinery over his head like an average human might lift a toddler onto their shoulders. Then he ripped it to pieces and flung the pieces far and wide. I prayed they wouldn’t hurt someone. “I did everything for him,” he barked, and the pigs nearby began squealing and adding to the ruckus. I think Grandad needed to calm down. I was genuinely scared now. He made a most muscular pose and more and more huge muscles bulged insanely all over him. Was he… growing? Snarling like a slavering beast, he tore up a length of fencing, posts and all, and hurled them into a far field. Then he muscle-bounded around to a garage area, and I almost wet myself when he single-handedly ripped the door off the garage and then dragged a four-wheel drive outside where he could better pick it up. My Grandad was lifting a fucking jeep like is was made of balsa wood. “I even gave him his own gym. But what’d he do? Got fucking wasted again. Didn’t even try the 12 steps. Well I’ll give him 12 fucking steps alright. GRRRRRAAAAAWWWWRRRR!!” I’d never seen a jeep do an impersonation of an aircraft before. How high did he throw it anyway? I listened for a crash sound. After thirty seconds, nothing. A minute passed. Maybe it came down in a lake. Who was to say? I was terrified of my Grandad now. I shouldn’t have mentioned my father to him. I plucked up the courage to leave the barn where I’d been standing just inside the entrance. My Grandad was rampaging about the farm, looking for more things to destroy. Out of sheer desperation, the pigs broke out of their enclosure and ran for their lives, squealing noisily. Grandad made eyes at the house itself. If he could throw a jeep so far, then he could easily demolish a house with his fists. Where would we live then? I needed to intervene. “Grandad… stop… please. Anthony’s dead, remember? I promise I’ll never mention him again. Just please don’t smash anything else.” That seemed to calm him down. My Grandad was even bigger now. I couldn’t believe such a thing was possible. He was totally naked since his ‘hulk out’ had caused his junk to grow to humongous proportions. Somewhere about the farm, his jock lay in tatters. His mighty chest heaved with every exerted breath. It looked as though he was still pumping up. It’d been a crazy day. My massively muscular Grandad was a giant of a man, and completely naked before me. Strangely, my erection had subsided, and I was glad I could think with my brain again. He was silent for a time. Then: “I’m sorry about that, Stephen. I’ll go put some clothes on.” A kind, warm smile returned, replacing a face of pure malice and rage. “Just a jockstrap will do, seeing as you’re used to that and all,” I remarked, trying to further lighten the moment. Then I took my shirt off, just because it seemed right. I left my pants on, though. That would have been weird. Grandad gave me the once-over and nodded his approval. “You should lift, lad. You remind me of myself when I was your age. Although, I had a good fifty pounds on you. Come inside. I have an apple pie in the fridge. I always eat pie after a workout.” And so that was how my first day went living with my super-strong, massive bodybuilding Grandad. I’d probably spend the night beating off in my new bed. Turned out the pie tuckered me out and I decided to turn in. Grandad was bigger now, so he struggled in places around the house that weren’t designed to accommodate his new size. He’d have to make more renovations. But at least there still was a house to renovate. *** I suppose it was to be expected Grandad would have me up at the crack of dawn; it was the farming way, right? Despite his massive size, I hadn’t heard him come into the bedroom to open the curtains, leave a cup of tea on the nightstand beside my bed, and also a special gift next to it. But he’d been in and out without waking me; the first rays of glorious morning sunshine permeating the room was enough to rouse me out of a somewhat restful sleep. I swung my feet to the floor, rubbing sleep out of my eye with one finger, whilst taking the teacup up to my lips with the other. The tea had sugar in it; I normally took it just with milk. But I didn’t mind. It was a nice gesture. An even nicer gesture was the other gift he left me: a brand new jock-strap; I guess these were now my ‘work clothes’. Anyone else might have been creeped out by this, but I didn’t feel that way. My Grandad was an exceptional person, and I liked to think this was his way of bonding with his grandson. It was all good in my book. I decided to ‘break it in’ immediately. This helped to waken me up and begin acclimating to my new life at Ridge Farm. It was so comfortable and it made my package look awesome. I looked at myself in the mirror (yup, the room came with a full-length mirror). The jock really did my body justice. I felt so manly, and looked so athletic. Had my first night at the farm caused changes to my body? I thought I looked more muscular, but maybe it was wishful thinking. I was tall, therefore any additions to my muscularity would have to be significant ones, right? Still, I found myself ‘making muscles’ to my reflection, and within a couple of minutes I was erect as fuck. I wondered how long it would take my milky skin to get tanned as I worked outdoors. Grandpa’s skin tone was so healthy. He really didn’t look sixty-four. I decided to take a quick shower and beat off under the spray. I would probably be horny for the rest of the day anyway, so maybe it was best I ‘milk’ myself as early as I could. When I went downstairs — wearing only my new jockstrap plus the sneakers I arrived in — Grandad was slaving over the stove again. This time he didn’t wear the apron. That pleased me. He, too, wore only a jockstrap. I will admit to the guilty pleasure of sprouting a semi at the sight of his massive delta-back supported by a waspish waist, which itself drew its foundation from the biggest, juiciest muscle-butt I’d ever seen. It bulged gorgeously out of the straps of the jock which framed it perfectly. The muscle dimples that popped in and out of the glutes as he worked on breakfast were a sight to behold. His legs worked clumsily against each other for space, but he had it nailed down. There was something so arousing to see a bodybuilder get so huge that it made walking look awkward. But there was nothing awkward about Gordon Ridge. He was truly magnificent. “Good morning, Grandad,” I said simply. He turned around, looking huge. He smiled at me, noticed I was wearing the gift he’d left me, and then nodded his approval. “I hope you like porridge,” he said, “It’s very nutritious. This is my special recipe, lad. A healthy body is required for labouring on the farm.” A healthy body? In his case that was an understatement. He beckoned me to sit at the table where there was a place set out for me. Next to my bowl was some sort of milkshake in a tall glass. I gingerly sniffed at it. “What’s this?” I inquired. “My morning shake. It’s full of all the essentials. I rounded the pigs up single-handedly. But you’re going to help me repair the fence I smashed last night.” He appeared somewhat rueful. His rage of the night before actually seemed like a dream to me now. He ladled a hearty two dollops of porridge into my bowl. The breakfast had an ‘earthiness’ to its aroma. I couldn’t put my finger on it, though. Still, I was as hungry as a growing 18 year-old can be, so I dug into my breakfast, and was pleased when it came with two rounds of wholemeal buttered toast. Grandad sat down opposite me to eat. His appetite was as massive as he was. He was already through his first bowl of porridge by the time I’d taken my fourth spoonful. I must admit that he was a really good cook. “Your strength is incredible, Grandad,” I couldn’t wait to say. He smiled gratefully. I think he was glad I was here. A guy like him shouldn’t spend so much time alone. Although, I had yet to learn how he associated with the local village folk. Silas from yesterday mentioned he was a legend to the people around here. “I could be stronger,” he said simply. I had to comment: “Is that, like, a curse to a bodybuilder?” “What do you mean?” He eyed me through air that could have been sliced apart with a knife. Did I say the wrong thing? Oh, I really didn’t want to piss him off again. I liked this house. I didn’t want it reduced to rubble. “Er… um… I didn’t mean anything sinister, Grandad.” I chose my words carefully. He remained silent. I nervously dry-swallowed and felt my stomach churning up butterflies. My bottom lip started quivering. I spoke slowly, carefully. “I mean… do you feel, sometimes, that you can never be big enough? Are there limits to how huge you’d like to be?” Please, please, please, don’t hulk out on me, I thought to myself. Did I mention Anthony this time? I hoped that my Grandad didn’t isolate himself from society because he couldn’t control his temper. He broke the ensuing silence by chewing a piece of toast noisily. Then he knocked back his morning shake before getting up to refill his porridge bowl. After what seemed like a small age, he answered my questions. “Yes to the first question; no to the second.” Then he opened a kitchen drawer and took out an old newspaper. He handed it to me. “Turn to page four,” he instructed. I opened the newspaper. The date at the top was from two years ago, not long after Granny’s funeral. The main article on the page read: “CHILD LABOUR RING FOILED BY FLYING TRACTOR” In the early hours of Monday morning, an organised syndicate of illegal child labourers had their operation destroyed by a tractor when it struck their base of operation, a hitherto abandoned creamery near the village of Dundrevan. Five of the six men, all non-nationals, suffered minor injuries, whilst one remains in a critical condition in hospital. Police who shortly after arrived at the scene discovered twenty-two children — also non-nationals, with ages ranging between 8 and 14 — wandering about the area in a state of apparent confusion. The children are currently being cared for at the Sisters of Mercy convent where they are being treated for shock and malnutrition. Examination of their living conditions revealed that the children were being used to manufacture narcotics intended for sale both here and abroad. Police are keen to question the men involved, and it is not currently known how a tractor happened to fall from the sky with precision enough to end this brutal crime against innocent children. I was a little confused, not sure what Grandad was expressing by showing me the newspaper. He then opened up: “The nuns tipped me off about the place. This fucking place. Honestly, one police man, and he’s close to retirement, too. He couldn’t investigate a pimple on the end of his nose. So the Mother Superior came to me. She said she was passing there one day and heard what she thought was a child getting beaten. And where was PC fucking Plod at the time? Playing cards and drinking gin with Silas Brandywine. No wonder those human trafficking bastards set up shop here. Perfect place to get away with all kinds of shit.” Grandad paused to flex his muscles. He brought both arms up to a double biceps. When he said his biceps were thirty-one inches yesterday, they looked thicker than my waist now. Veins popped out of his skin and seemed to help him inflate himself bigger. I was hard as a rock again, but I was seated at the table, so he didn’t notice. “So I did what any father would do. I saved those kids. The tractor was here when I bought the place, but it was shot. I’d staked out the creamery myself, getting the layout and all that. My hearing is pretty good, and I could tell that the children weren’t in the main house, but in one of the outbuildings, probably used to store the dairy products prior to shipping when the place was operational. It was heavily padlocked, which wouldn’t have been a problem for me.” He paused to crank out a most muscular. OMG, he looked bigger — way bigger — than yesterday. That could only mean his strength was increasing by the hour. I had to ask another question: “Why didn’t you just bust the kids out there and then?” “I guess I have a flair for the dramatic, Stephen. Plus, I couldn’t tell if those wankers had guns or who they were connected to. Was it a localised operation, or was there something bigger behind it?” He shrugged, causing his massive pecs to heave and flex. Veins erupted across his shoulders and chest. “I planned to demolish the entire house, but my aim was off. Fortunately the tractor hit the part where most of them were sleeping. It’s a disappointing miracle only one of them was seriously injured. But he lived. They all were extradited back to whatever shit-pile they crawled from. The kids were all orphans, but I hear they’re doing well in foster homes and such.” “That part of the tractor from last night. Was it…?” “Yup, the very same. After the police were done with their investigation, they just up and left. The buildings were demolished for safety reasons and what was left of the tractor was just lying there when I returned a few weeks later. I decided to keep it as a memento.” “Aren’t you worried the cops will connect you to the incident through the tractor remains?” Then I remembered: he completely destroyed what was left of it last night. “Pimple on the end of his nose,” Grandad reminded me, referring to the local constabulary’s incompetence. I had to ask another question: “What does your heroic deed do with how huge you want to get?” Oh I hoped this question wouldn’t set him off again. I silently cringed and my erection subsided. Grandad didn’t answer immediately. For a moment he was lost to his flexing. He performed weight-free bicep curls before me, his attention rapt on the bulging balls of muscle that erupted out of his arms as he flexed and pumped them. He grunted with something akin to minor satisfaction. “Back then I weighed less than half of what I do now, which of this morning is one hundred and twenty-five stone.” He paused to allow me to take that one in. Wait, he said ‘stones’. I had to do some mental arithmetic. I couldn’t believe the number. “You’re over 1700 pounds. Grandad… that’s… it’s…” I didn’t have the words. “I plan to weigh over a tonne before the week is out, lad. See what I did back then to free those kids? I must be way stronger now. I moved here to get away from shit. I was stressed out trying to keep my businesses afloat. Too many gyms completely saturated the market and my profits were diminishing. Before I knew it I was taking out second mortgages on the properties, but haemorrhaging capital faster than new bills get printed. And your grandmother’s cancer was so hard to bear.” He didn’t elaborate. I hadn’t known Granny all that well; you can blame ‘dear old dad’ for that one. But Grandad was opening up to me, now. And that was a good thing. It helped me to acquire a better understanding of the person he is, and the events that led to him looking the way he does. But there was more to learn, and I’m sure he’d tell me when he was good and ready. “But I have to get stronger, Stephen. If those fuckers — or their associates — ever come back here, I want to be so fucking strong, they’ll shit out of their windpipes in fear when they see me. No child will ever again unduly suffer on my watch.” He performed a full lat spread. Fuck, he was huger than when he last did that pose. His muscles opened up and expanded in all directions. His upper pecs seemed to suck his head down into them. He liked the feeling so much that his junk swelled massively into the biggest boner I’d ever seen. He was hung like a horse; no… his made horse dicks look small. “And then there’s the… wall,” he said, sombrely. My eyebrows peaked with curiosity. I was already tugging my pud with one hand beneath the table. If Grandad noticed, he didn’t respond. We were just two guys hanging out, right? Perfectly natural for blokes to get off to one another’s manliness. It’s only hormones and chemical exchanges, nothing more. Okay fuck it… I fancied the shit out of him. My own grandfather. But it’s not like he’d been in my life much prior to this. We’d been pretty much estranged because of the bad blood between a father and his son. Couldn’t I just pretend that we weren’t related, simply to make masturbating less awkward? Wait, what was this about a ‘wall’? “Wall?” I’d been close to coming, but I was glad I didn’t. My curiosity got the better of my libido. Was he speaking about a real wall or a figurative one? I had to know more about what was going on here, especially now that I’d put down roots. In fact, I’d yet to learn about how important a role ‘roots’ played in all of this. “If you’re done with breakfast, I’ll show you around more of the farm,” said Grandad. Then he did a side-chest pose and his muscle-tits gobbled up a huge amount of space. Dimples and striations erupted across their masses. My dick went from semi-flaccid to rock hard in a heartbeat. “Oh shit,” I groaned, my words emerging as a panicky croak. I leapt up from the table, my jockstrap hugely tented out in front of me. I cupped all that I could of the bulge with my hand and made a beeline for the stairs. I had to get to the bathroom. But before I got to the upper landing, I came swiftly, my body and organ convulsing in unison. I staggered on the landing as the orgasm overwhelmed me. Once in the bathroom I locked the door and massaged my dick further where it poked out of the jock pouch. Sticky creme coated my dick and my pubic hair was slick with it. I needed to take a shower. Then I noticed that one of Grandad’s jockstraps had been left in the well of the shower. I guess he’d forgotten to chuck it in the laundry. I think I did a bad thing then, but you can decide for yourself. I picked up the jock and attempted to wear it. It was wet from the shower, but I didn’t care. It was a kinky thing to do, right? But fuck it, this new life of mine was exceptional, and full of the unexpected. Of course, I was lost inside the jock. The pouch was huge; it had to be for Grandad. The straps at the back hung loosely below my arse, hardly touching it at all. The waistband was also loose around me. I had to hold the jock with one hand to keep it up. I finally gave up and let it fall to the floor. Then I picked it up and took a little sniff. It smelt of the extremes of bodybuilding. It reeked of manly musk. It cooked in the juices of sweat and precum coaxed into being by the heavy lifting of massive weights, over and over again. It sang of strength and power and ever-increasing mass. It shone with magnificent, masculine muscularity that showed no signs of ever stopping. It was the garment of a god. I wasn’t worthy to hold it, much less attempt to wear it. I stepped into the shower and turned on the warm spray. Then I wanked again… and again. How I came three times in just a few minutes was a mystery. But there was power in this place. And I think it was rubbing off on me. I wanted it to. I wanted to be just like Grandad. *** In less than half an hour my Grandad brought me on a tour of the farm. I hate to say this, but there really wasn’t much to see. The pigs were the only livestock he owned. I asked him about this as he led me from one utility shed to another. He showed me where the generator room was. It was hooked up to several solar panels, plus a single wind-powered turbine some ways off. I hadn’t noticed the tall propeller on a stick when I’d first arrived the day before. Together the devices gave the farm all the power it needed. Grandad was off the grid and didn’t owe shit to anyone. Another building housed nothing but composters, which Grandad said was great for the soil and helped him get rid of household waste with little pollutants. He went on to explain that his toilets drained into a tank that fed into the compost. Nothing was wasted. I guess a big man produced a lot of crap. “The pigs aren’t for eating, but they serve their purpose. Although… lately I haven’t needed to use them much.” He didn’t elaborate until he took me to the field farthest from the farm. It was populated primarily by oak trees. Each tree was a mighty old thing, with a presence that felt ancient. Grandad perhaps sensed my curiosity and explained. “Last year one of these old girls got struck by lightning. Only quick reflexes from your old gramps here stopped the entire plantation from burning down. Still, wasn’t much left of her when I pulled her remains right out of the ground and cut away a cross-section.” “Don’t tell me, you didn’t use any equipment to pull up the remains, right?” I think Grandad liked the fact that I was interested in how things operated here. “Well, I used a saw to cut through the stump, but I used my strength to rend the stump from the earth, yes.” He bounced his huge pectoral masses with lofty pride. Then he added: “I wasn’t as big then as I am now. It took me a good ten minutes to get the stump out of the ground. The roots went down a mighty ways. But I won through in the end.” “You’d probably do it in half that time now. You’re huge.” I didn’t need to remind him. “Halve that time again, then lop off another minute,” he said with a smirk. “So you examined the age of the tree from its rings, yes?” There was a keenness in my voice now. He heard it and it pleased him. “Indeed. The lifespan of oak trees can vary. The really old ones can live for over five hundred years. But these babies… they’re far older. I needed a really strong magnifying glass to count those rings from the cross-section. Each ring counts for one year of growth. I gave up at seven hundred and fifty.” “Wow… so they’re something special then.” I wondered where this was going. “Not just the trees themselves, Stephen.” He hunkered down to dig for something between the roots of the nearest oak. In less than a minute he produced something round and dirty, like a clump of soil matted with leaf clutter. He tossed it to me. “What do you make of that?” I don’t know why I did it, but I immediately brought the object close to my nose. It’s odour was familiar. It was the same ‘earthy’ smell I’d gotten from the milkshake he’d made for me earlier. “What is this?” “You’ve never seen a truffle before?” “Aren’t they fancy chocolates?” “No… real truffles are fungi. But unlike regular mushrooms, they don’t put up parasols to spread their spores. They reproduce underground, amidst the root structures of trees. Different trees can produce different types of truffle. There are white ones, black ones, red ones, and so on. And some of their names are associated with the trees under which they spawn. I’m not going to go all scientific on this. I’ll keep it simple.” The truffle I held felt like it weighed about a half pound. I cleaned off the soil and revealed its somewhat greenish-purple hue. It looked like it was faintly glowing, too. Grandad had more to say on the subject. “They spread their spores via animals that dig them up and eat them. Pigs are great at this, although dogs are better. I’m not overly fond of dogs, and I picked up those pigs for a pittance. I originally had twelve. But four died of either old age, or twisted guts. Don’t worry, I didn't waste the meat. A man’s got to grow, right?” A lat spread just for the fun of it reminded me that I was in the presence of a muscle giant. “So you just let the pigs wander amongst the oaks and they dig up the truffles for you?” Grandad nodded enthusiastically. “Well, I need to be present, else they’ll scoff them up real quick. I usually just clap my hands when they find one and they obediently drop the booty. That one you’re holding in your hand — even though it’s a small one — will fetch about two hundred quid. I once unearthed one that weighed over eight pounds, but it’s quality was way beyond what you’re holding. It bought me that jeep I flung into the air last night.” He paused to frown and lament his questionable actions of the night before, but he chirped up quickly enough. “I hope it didn’t kill anyone, although I think we’d have heard something by now. I no longer fit inside cars, so it’s not really a loss.” After a short pause: “Try some,” he insisted, indicating I should eat the smelly fruiting body. “Seriously? You want me to eat this?” “Yup, just rub off the excess soil and start chewing. It’ll do you good to try it. I want to test a theory.” So I was to be my Grandad’s guinea pig. Speaking of the pigs; he said some of them died from twisted guts. I hope that wasn’t from eating the truffles. “Well, you obviously know best,” I said, but I really wasn’t fond of the idea. “You had some in your shake this morning. It’s fine. Truffles are an expensive addition to cooking, highly prized in top restaurants the world over. These ones… well, they’re special.” I decided to trust my Grandad. I cleaned the tuber as best I could and then tentatively sliced some off with my teeth. It was like chewing a really dry potato, or what I imagined that would be like. There wasn’t really any flavour; more an aroma than anything else. So I chewed, and chewed, and finally forced the bolus down my throat. I coughed a few times and my eyes watered up. Grandad grinned broadly, then he slapped me on the back, hard enough to leave a red patch. I almost went flying; I guess he sometimes forgot how immensely strong he is. “Oh grow a set of balls, lad. Now tell me if you feel any different.” I didn’t feel anything. Not at first. But then… something happened. I felt a tightness all over. It started beneath my arms. I wasn’t sure I cared for the feeling at first, but then I realised I was growing. That feeling under my arms came from my expanding lat muscles. The tightness was followed quickly by a warm, tingling sensation. “Oh fuck… is this really happening?” “It sure is, Stephen. You think I got this way just by bodybuilding?” The feeling continued. My muscles were growing, expanding, gaining more dominance over the rest of me. My neck thickened, along with my traps and delts. My shoulder bones widened to better accommodate the new muscle mass. My — oh fuck — I was getting pecs… better than the modest ones I sported before. Slabs of manly chest muscles sprouted from my front and hung weightily; okay, nothing like Grandad’s, but hey, I shared much of his genetics, and now he’d revealed to me something about this place that turned men into gods. My abs and obliques tightened and toned up, sprouting bulges that made my midsection look beautiful. I looked down at myself and watched as six bellies popped out of my abdomen and became ripped and hard. My six-pack was better than it had ever been. I fanned out my arms to better accommodate my new lats. I couldn’t wait to see myself in the mirror. I felt tickled by the muscles that sprouted from my back, and I instantly shot up in the dick department. I didn’t care about having a boner. I didn’t want this feeling to end. My legs, too, gained size, with defined cords of muscle that stretched my skin tight. My calves grew big and hard and I marveled at the veins that effortlessly popped out of them. I brought my arms up to form a double biceps pose. I looked at each taut but prominent upward bulge, and my dick got harder and harder. “Fuck, Grandad. This is… it’s… it’s… incredible,” I exclaimed, completely in muscle-growth reverie. Was it okay to be this self-absorbed? I didn’t care. I never wanted this feeling to end. But it was over all too quickly. Maybe this was a dream. I pinched myself to see if I would wake up. The pinch itself was interesting. I could barely grab any skin. My body fat was far less than it had been. I’d gained quality muscle, nothing else. “Huh,that’s it?” “For now, lad. But you’ve proven something to me. The truffles work best at the beginning. The more we eat, however, the less effective they are. To get to my size you have to put in serious training. Lately I’ve been spending most of my waking hours just bodybuilding, and bodybuilding, and body-fucking-building. But it’s not enough. To achieve my ultimate goal, which is ultimately endless, I guess… I’ll need help to fully unlock the potential of these truffles.” I was now hooked on a feeling. That feeling was muscle-growth. “I want to be huge, Grandad. It’s got to happen,” I almost barked anxiously. I flexed my left bicep over and over, twisting my wrist and squeezing my fist so as to make my forearm pop like crazy. With my other hand I cranked one off, not even realising I was masturbating in front of my Grandad. He didn’t seem to mind. “You’ll get there. After all, you’ll have the best trainer. But it’s not going to be easy. When I first grew after tasting a truffle, I gained a little more than you did. I was already big from weightlifting. But I wasn’t a bodybuilder; I’d never had that kind of conditioning. But a few more truffles changed that.” To emphasise, he matched me pose for pose. We growled and goofed about for a bit, enjoying our muscles and our erections. Grandad really felt and behaved younger than his years. I wanted him to be a pal as well as a mentor. “Next time I found a better quality truffle. I ate it all, but gained a little less muscle than before. This has been going on for almost two years. Of course, I don’t always find good quality truffles. I tried experimenting with different varieties. I’d go out into the wilderness and uproot whole trees: poplar, spruce, ash etcetera. I replanted them here. I hoped, somehow that if their root structures produced truffles, that I could sort of mix the spores about, to create new strains. But the supplanted trees didn’t thrive. The oaks always overwhelmed them. So I’m basically left with one variety of truffle.” “But all we need is one variety, right? These things are magical,” I added. He nodded. “Well there is an exact science to it. I contacted a scientist colleague of mine from way back. I’ve been supplying him with truffles for over a year now. The results have been mixed, but he’s been working to isolate the muscle-growth properties of the truffles using radiation and various refining techniques. So far the results have been promising. I’m waiting for him to get back to me soon so I can get a concentrated dose. But he moves around a lot, due to the somewhat unethical nature of his experiments.” He paused to lose himself to his thoughts again. I could tell he was dreaming of getting absolutely HUGE! But if muscle-enhancing truffles weren’t enough, there was more to discover at Ridge Farm. He took me to one of three rectangular white outbuildings, the ‘sheds’ I’d seen upon my arrival the day before. Each one was devoid of windows, and the only way in was through a single, heavily padlocked door. There was also a thumb scanner (very fancy). He unlocked the padlocks and placed his thumb on the scanner. A red light on the panel turned green and there was a little ‘beep’ sound. He showed me in. There was nothing inside but a stairwell that led underground. Overhead a fluorescent light hummed more loudly than I cared for. He led me down a passageway that seemed to go on forever. His shoulders scraped the sides of the passage and he commented on this: “I’ll have to widen this passage. Getting too big for it. I like the feeling.” Eventually we stopped. There was nowhere else to go. The passageway ended, opening out into a roundish space, and dominated by what appeared to be a large, black metal wall. Track lighting along the ceiling of the shaft gave us plenty of illumination. “I found this quite by accident. I was clearing some trees to make land for ploughing, shortly after I bought the farm. I didn’t know at the time I would become a truffle farmer. I just wanted to get down and work the land and see what inspired me. It helped me with the grief process, I guess. “I wasn’t anywhere near the size I am now; I’d not yet discovered the truffles. But the building above is where a sinkhole once formed beneath my feet. I fell twenty feet into this shaft, although back then I had to crawl through it. I’ve widened it since then, and put in the lighting. I thought I was done for, but I could see where I was going, when really I should have been blind in the darkness. There was something down here emitting light.” He paused to allow me to take it all in. Suddenly he had me thinking of spacemen. “Feel the ground. It feels warm. And somewhat soft. At least when I fell I didn’t break anything, although I’d dislocated my shoulder. And it hurt like hell. But I was made of tough stuff, even back then. Here, feel the metal wall, too.” I did just that, and I could feel vibrations and a little heat emanating from the wall. “Where we are now is directly below the field of oak trees where the truffles grow. Something beyond that wall is providing them with the muscle-growth properties. Something I’m determined to discover. There’s only one problem.” I looked at him with all the incredulity I could muster. This was so much to take in; it bordered on surreal. “I can’t get through that wall. I’ve tried everything short of blowing the shit out of it and risking destroying the oaks above. No more oaks means no more truffles. There is only one way to get through that wall,” said Grandad somberly. I said nothing, but I already knew what his answer would be. “We’re going to bodybuild. We are going to build our fucking bodies to gigantic proportions. That’s the key to getting through this wall. Brute strength. Enough of it will reap the ultimate reward. Forget everything about yourself that came before this day, lad. From now on Stephen Ridge is a bodybuilder. And may we both be damned if you don’t become as big as me… or even bigger.” I was reeling from this. I actually felt light-headed as my cock got harder still. And it felt huge when I held it in my hand, rubbing it gently as I quietly got off to my Grandad’s plan. “Oh fuck… I’m gonna come. Grandad, I can’t fucking hold it in. Suh-sorry for… this… unnnnnghhhh!!!!” I just about managed to get my dick out of the jock pouch before shooting a big, salty load at the very wall we were now both determined to breach. Grandad didn’t mind. We were both men; NO! Not men. We were bodybuilders. Grandad soothed me with nothing but fondness and conviction. He believed in me. So much had happened in less than a day, but my path in life was now set out before me. I had to ask something: “What if we do get through that wall — when we’re both big enough and strong enough — what then? What if whatever’s behind that wall is locked in there for a reason?” “We’ll never know unless we try. It’s a mystery I need solved.” And as if to emphasise his point, Grandad pushed against the wall. He pressed with all of his strength, grunting noisily as he channeled every last ounce of his incredible might. His body exploded with size and power. His skin almost burst apart from the strain of new muscles bulging, getting impossibly bigger. Veins erupted all over him, carrying blood to every muscle fiber. “WHY WON’T IT FUCKING MOVE?????” For the first time since I’d been here, his exertions got the better of him. But his body looked beautiful beneath a patina of sweat that made his muscles glisten. “Hey… it’s okay, Grandad. Give it time. When I’m as big as you, we’ll both bring it down.” I placed a reassuring hand on his bicep. I felt its power and its hardness. It was mind-blowing. I had another question. “You said that each time you eat a truffle its effects are lessened. But if that’s so, how come you look like you’re growing right in front of my eyes?” A valid question, I thought. “Let me show you the next building to this one,” he said simply. At that we headed back to the surface, leaving the ancient mystery of the metal wall behind. The next building was locked the same way as the first. Grandad soon had us inside. My jaw dropped. The interior was about sixty feet by thirty. And it was crammed full of bushels of truffles, all of which had been cleaned thoroughly. They were bigger and smelt mustier than the one I’d eaten earlier. “They’re better quality truffles. I’ve been stockpiling them. They’re worth hundreds of millions of pounds. Occasionally — maybe one out of several thousand — I find an absolute pearl. A truffle of extremely high quality. I’ve found ten of them so far, each one weighing about six pounds. I sent two to my colleague for his research. The other six… well, this is why I’m the size I am today. And bodybuilding, of course. It’s how I continue to make massive gains. The better quality truffles reap the greatest rewards. Then I grow, so I can lift heavier weights and eat larger amounts. Rinse and repeat, lad.” I was held aghast by this revelation. “Please tell me you have more of them left. I want to grow huge so badly, Grandad.” My appeal didn’t fall on deaf ears. “I kept one for you, yes, lad. However, I’m a little reluctant for you to try it just yet.” Panic rose in me. I had been bitten by the muscle-growth bug, and now I was addicted. I wanted more, so much more. “But if I get huge now, we’ll be able to get through that wall sooner. What if there are even greater ways to grow our muscles beyond that wall? It could be a spaceship that crashed here thousands of years ago. Or… or… it could be the meaning of life or shit like that. Grandad, don’t hold back on me now. Not after showing me all this.” If I sounded frantic, I couldn’t help it. I was a kid denied sugar all of his life who’d suddenly discovered a lollipop. “It’s the best quality I’ve ever found. I could have easily used it on myself, to maybe pack on another five hundred pounds or more. But I’m sixty-four years old. You, however, are still going through puberty. That means you still have elevated levels of growth hormone in you. You’re not done growing yet. I’m a little scared to give you such a hefty dose so soon. You need to be introduced gradually to such potency. You could potentially grow to thousands of pounds. Your height would be incalculable. And if you consider my hulk-out rage from last night, and the damage it did, you could be out of control with testosterone- and truffle-fueled outbursts you may not be able to suppress.” He stopped talking, but rubbed my shoulder soothingly. “We need to do this right,” he said after a time. “You just need to trust your Grandad.” I calmed down and nodded my understanding. I then asked: “What’s in the third building?” “Something you need to see. I warn you… it’s not for the faint of heart,” my Grandad cautioned. “I need to see it. Please.” I had my cool head back. I was thinking clearly. Grandad nodded and so we went to the third building. It was just a big refrigerator. I felt instantly cold, but it didn’t seem to bother Grandad. It looked like a room where autopsies are carried out. And I wasn’t wrong. There was a large reinforced table in the centre of the room. A hulking mass lay on it, covered with a shiny, metallically-woven blanket. “One of the pigs was pregnant when I got them. She was the first to ingest what I believe might have been a high-quality truffle,” my Grandad said. He removed the blanket from the elephant-sized mass. The thing underneath was quite dead. It was the biggest pig I’d ever seen. It was also hugely muscled. “She died giving birth to it. She had three in all; two females. This was the male. I think the effects of the truffles only affect males. That’s why the mother and its siblings weren’t affected. It grew to this size in three days. But the critter was brain-damaged and couldn’t use its legs; a mercy, I guess. Had it gotten loose, there’s no telling what damage it could have caused. I euthanized it with poison to stop its heart. It took a lot to kill it, too.” “Why do you keep it here?” I was a little horrified. I suddenly wanted to take Grandad’s advice and be careful where the truffles were concerned. “I know… I should be rid of it. My colleague, Dr. Weiss, took plenty of tissue samples for his research. He was based here, for a while. But he likes to move around for reasons I won’t go into.” “We should burn this to the ground, and everything in it. It doesn’t feel right having this here, Grandad”. “I agree. We’ll do that after we fix the fence and then have lunch.” I was eager to get to work doing chores around the farm, so I could test out my new muscles. I weighed myself on the regular bathroom scale. The readout said “277”. I was amazed. I’d gained over fifty pounds, just from chewing on a low-quality truffle. I couldn’t wait to break that scale and have to use the big one in the barn. Then I thought about the dead monster pig. But I trusted my Grandad. He was experienced in the use of the truffles — and learning more about them all the time — so I knew I would be fine as long as I followed his advice and learned all I could from him. I knuckled down to work, eat, learn… and grow! ONE YEAR LATER Rod came in a massively long spurt as his dick responded to his third time eating a truffle, each one of better quality than the last. It never got stale to watch him engulfed in the throes of orgasmic muscle-growing bliss. His response to the truffles had been even better than mine. Okay, he didn’t share the exceptional Ridge genetics, but he’d already packed on more than one hundred pounds of muscle after just two truffles. We had to respect the potency of these miraculous, earthy fruits. Too much too soon could be catastrophic. I had my ‘little’ Mr Olympia in Rod, now. But he wouldn’t be little much longer. His growth was phenomenal so far, as was mine and Grandad’s on a daily basis. “Are you ever done jizzing?” I laughed when his body shuddered near the end of his climax. Even though I outmuscled him by nearly three thousand pounds, seeing him react to a growth spurt of his own, always made my dick super-hard. At thirty-six inches long, and twenty inches thick, my dick was beyond formidable. I couldn’t wait for Rod to get big enough so I could fuck him without ripping him a second arse hole. “I’m a major jizz machine, Ste,” said Rod, cupping as much spunk as he could so he could give it to me as a tasty treat. I loved to taste all that my boyfriend could provide. Today marked our sixth month as a couple, so it was an anniversary of sorts. A lot had happened in a year, but I’ll keep it brief. Grandad continued to bodybuild and grow bigger and bigger. I benefited from his mentoring so well, and also from controlled but consistent doses of high-grade truffle. It so happened that only the best quality truffles didn’t perish, so most of what Grandad had stockpiled in the second white building eventually turned to mush. But they made great compost, as Grandad hated to waste anything. When his height reached twelve feet and his weight close to eight thousand pounds, Grandad decided we needed to move. I was fast approaching eight feet in height and I weighed just over three thousand pounds. We needed a third body to help bring down the mysterious underground wall. So far Grandad and me could only dent it, but it proved that we were getting stronger and eventually, one day, we’d get beyond it and find out the secret to the truffles. But we were too big now to avoid eventually drawing unwanted attention. Okay, living pretty much in isolation helped, and the good folk from the village nearby were okay living near two amazing giant muscle men (with a third well on the way to massive ‘muscledom’). They would keep our secret. Still, though, Grandad felt somewhat exposed. With help from Doctor Weiss, we moved in secret to an isolated island off the west coast (airlifted by helicopter inside a metal cargo container under cover of darkness is no way to travel, believe you me). There we could live a happy life, build another farm and continue to bodybuild our incredible physiques. I went back to see Rod three months after moving to Ridge Farm. By then I looked bigger and better than any Mr Olympia winner. Rod couldn’t believe it was me, and when he popped an instant boner at first sight of me, I knew then what I’d secretly suspected all along. He was as gay as I am. Okay, he’d accidentally got Cindy Fleming pregnant, but they split up when he admitted this to her, and she didn’t want the baby anyway on the grounds she was too young to be a mother. So she put the tyke up for adoption. This left Rod a free agent. When he saw the bodybuilder I’d become after just three months, he had plenty of questions. So he listened when I told him my amazing secret. He wanted in, although he was cautious. I talked it over with Grandad, and he agreed that Rod should come live with us. I craved a boyfriend, and we needed a third huge bodybuilder to help bring down that wall. Grandad was now very rich after investing some of his monies earned from regular truffle farming in the stock market. He could afford to employ a permanent security team to guard Ridge Farm on the mainland. As soon as we were big enough — and we needed to get Rod up to a massive size, too — we’d return secretly to the underground shaft to work on the wall. Grandad wanted Rod and me to have a special day, just to ourselves. So he packed us a hefty lunch of about a million calories to get us through the day. We were down on the beach on the south side of the island. The spray from the ocean felt delicious on our naked muscle-bods. It was a strikingly beautiful summer afternoon. This place really was a paradise. It was the ideal habitat where muscle-gods could grow in private and not give a shit that we’d outgrown the regular world in favour of our own veritable Olympus. “We should have asked Gordon to join us, you big bodybuilding bulge-monster,” said Rod, and I loved it when he called me playful names like that. Then the truffle kicked in, and he began to grow. It wouldn’t be as much as the last time, as the effects of the truffles diminished with each use, so he’d have to hit the weights big time if he was ever to catch up with me. But he got more and more beautiful with every pound of muscle gained. I, too, had a lot of catching up to do with Grandad. He really was something to behold. Today he was tending to the oak saplings and truffles he’d salvaged from the mainland plantation. He’d decided to raze the original oaks to the ground and destroy any chances of truffles falling into the wrong hands. A muscle-growth epidemic would prove disastrous. Now that the oaks were no more, he decided he’d nothing to lose trying out explosives on the wall. As he’d suspected, the C4 did nothing. But the new oak plantation on the island was doing well, so far. Thanks to the compost formed of the spoiled batches of stockpiled truffles, the new oaks grew at an extremely accelerated rate. Within a year they were already nurturing new truffles in their root structures. Now and again Grandad would find a high-quality one, and he was only too happy to share it with me and Rod. His desire to grow bigger and stronger would always be with him, and we had the power to grow forever, if we so desired. But he usually took a slightly smaller dose of truffle than he provided to me and Rod. We needed to grow, and get bigger and stronger. So much bigger. We never wanted this feeling to end. Rod packed on even more muscle as we rolled around on the beach making love. I let him enter me often, and soon he’d be big enough for me to fuck him. I really couldn’t wait for that day. Later we ate a lot of food, then made love again. We went for dips in the ocean and tested our strength by hurling boulders around. Rod got a great pump out of lifting weights he couldn’t even attempt prior to his latest growth spurt. “One day we’ll get through the wall, all three of us,” I said to him as we lay on the beach, tired from our exertions. He was small compared to me, but I loved to engulf him in my massive musculature whilst cooing softly to him in his ear. “I hope the power to grow even huger is in there. It has to be if it’s been feeding the roots supporting the truffles all this time,” said Rod. “Yeah we need to get huge. I’d love to one day make Grandad look like a baby standing next to me,” I quipped. “He won’t like that,” came back Rod’s jovial remark. I loved him so much. I kissed him over and over. “But what’ll he be able to do to me? I’ll be the biggest bodybuilder ever. He’ll have to step aside and let a real man take charge. GRRRRR!!!!” I made a huge single biceps pose. At my command sixty-six inches of rock hard, steel muscle flexed and bulged, big enough to almost blot out the sun. Rod grew instantly hard again. Then we fell asleep in each other’s arms and only when the rising tide lapped at our exceptional muscle-bods, did we rouse ourselves awake and head back to New Ridge Farm. It had been a good day. But it could only get better. Grandad was making beef stew. Even MORE amazing muscle growth to come, and will the secret of what's behind the wall eventually be revealed?

Just had an amazing workout and this short scene occurred to me. Wanted to get it down. 1. Early Sunday You walk onto the gym floor. 6'2'' 240. A Bear Daddy on the rise. A few months into focused attention on growing strength and size. You are enjoying the gains, the increased power, the reminder of your masculinity and dominance. You swagger in and survey the room. You will be smashing chest and shoulders today. Any worthy pups today? Yes, a shorty but thick. Great chest and calves. A cleanshaven redhead. He looks put together for 9am on a Sunday. You have a good feeling he may be growing boy in search of a master. You get to work. Super sets, drop sets. Decline bench, military press, cable machine, hammer press, db press, db flies. Your pump grows and grows. Sweat soaks your tshirt. You smell your own musk and the bear cock thickens. You can feel the eyes of the clean shaven muscle boy on you. When you look up, he is often turning away. You cock thickens further. He is working hard himself. You are impressed by his focus...on his workout and on you. You end the workout in front of the mirror with cross body hammer curls. Pure vanity. The Bear Cock is steel hard and leaking in your tight jockstrap as you gaze on how thick your shoulders, arms, and chest are. A true Man. A Muscle Bear growing into a God. You come out of your self worship and see that the boy has left. Ah well, another day. You head to your locker, strip off your clothes, enjoying how the sweaty shirt clings to your pumped body, how awkward it is too move with muscles too pumped and shaking. You walk to the shower, towel in hand, cock half hard swinging between your thick thighs. The shower threatens to bring you to full mast again as your soap up. Every movement reminding you how thick you are. Your hands roaming over a furry chest, thick and hard. Your arms and shoulders like steel. You savor this feeling as a reminder for when your motivation fades on difficult and long days. Any sacrifice is worth this feeling, this masculine testosterone-soaked feeling. You towel off and wrap it around your waist. Standing in front of the sink, you survey what you are building and you are pleased. You have a belly, yes, but it looks powerful when it is overshadowed by a thicker chest, capped by mounded shoulders, and thick thick arms. You shavr your neck and cheeks, enjoying how difficult it is with your still pumped arms. When finished, you take off your towel to wipe off the excess shave cream. Dropping the towel, you step back...wanting to see it all. The self lust rising again. Just then, you feel a presence behind you at the opposite sink. And its the boy. Unbidden, your cock thickens as you see his thick lil smooth ass in the mirror and all you want to do is FUCK. You chuckle. He looks up at the sound and your eyes meet through the mirrors. You raise your arms into a double bicep flex, your eyes leaving his to gaze on your size. Just a quick flex but a test. How will this tasty meat react? ... ... ... ... It all happens in milliseconds but your heart leaps. His gazed stayed. He wants it. He needs it. You pick up your towel without acknowledging him further and walk to your locker. Your test in pumping hard. Something is getting fucked today and deep. This pup or another. Your needs must be met. After getting dressed, you head to the elevator and as you wait you hear someone else exit the locker room. Is it the boy? You don't find out until you enter the elevator and turn. It is the boy and he is looking good. Red hair slicked up, clean shaven, blue-red flannel, jeans showin off his bubble butt... The door closes. You raise an arm to scratch the back of your neck. Your thick bicep strains the threads of your tshirt. "Great way to start a weekend, eh?" You say The boy looks down then towards you. "Sure is" He says quietly The bear cock thickens and you tell him your name. "I'm Matt" he responds "You were working harder than anyone in there today. What's driving that, man?" You ask as the door opens. "Just wanna get big" He says as you both exit the elevator. A pause "...like you" You smile and know it's on. "You free? I think I need to show you just how big I am" "I am" he responds The bear cock thickens *To Be Continued*?

I posted this story a few years ago but then removed it, anyway it's back now so I'm going to try to release a chapter a day as they're quite short. All characters are 18 so don't worry about that, it's only set in a High School for convenience. Chapter 1 I’m probably not the first and I doubt I’ll be the last person to say I hated high school. Actually that’s not fair, I have nothing against the building or even most of the teachers it’s just the other students that made me hate the place. Thankfully I was only a month away from graduating so I could finally put this place behind me. I was probably what you’d describe as an above average student. I had good grades and was pretty smart; the problem is I just never felt like I fit in anywhere, like I was a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. I hated playing sports and I only watched them if I really had to. I was smart enough to roll with the nerd crown but they never seemed to want me around. I wasn’t into the same things as them and even though I was probably smart enough to join their clubs, I still felt like I wouldn’t be welcome. I’d only been in this school since the start of my senior year and I didn’t make any friends at all. There was the initial fascination with the new kid when I arrived but that soon fizzled out and I was pretty much left alone. “Mind out wide load, I need to get to my locker.” I slammed my locker door and stalked off. The last person I wanted to deal with right now was Jake Lowe. He was one of those irritating people who got on with everybody. He was popular, bright and involved in everything at school, not only that but he was a good looking guy too and everybody wanted him. I know it sounds like I’m jealous and I probably am, but he just had so much going for him. The worst part was I was sure I had a crush on him and that told me that I was probably gay. I’d tried dating girls over the years but it never felt right, so when I moved here I decided to just trust my feelings. Thankfully I didn’t have many classes with him and I was able to avoid him as much as possible. He always felt intimidating to me, especially as he had people around him all the time so I always felt it best to stay off his radar. The only problem with that was our lockers were right next to each other so I tried to get my stuff first before he and his entourage turned up. I tended to tune out other people in school; I was used to moving around a bit being an army brat so I’d never made long lasting relationships. My parents had left the army and returned to civilian life now so this was where they were going to stay permanently, but building relationships when you’re shy like me isn’t easy. Most nights after school I’d stay on late as the place was pretty quiet and it was easier to get on with what I needed to here without too many people around to distract me. Jake also stayed on after school but for an entirely different reason; thankfully he was on the other side of the building so I wouldn’t be seeing him. I know it sounds like I’m a little obsessed with him but he really is hot and if I wasn’t so shy, and he wasn’t so popular then I might try to get to know him better. As it was though, I tended to keep him at arm’s length so I didn’t run the risk of being hurt by him. After I finished up at school I headed home to get some food. Over dinner I was pretty quiet but my parents knew me well enough to know I was ok. I told them about my day at school but I could tell my mom was still worried about me not having any friends. I assured her I was fine and found it easier to concentrate without people distracting me and she was ok with that, but I could still tell she was hoping things would change for me. I went up to my room, took off my shirt and looked at myself in the mirror. It’s difficult to be objective about your own appearance as you don’t want to sound too derogatory or too vain. I’ve been told I’m quite handsome in the past and I liked the way I had my hair done. My dad probably would have wanted me to have a military buzz cut but I preferred a little more volume to my hair. I twisted my body left and right and I could see why Jake had made that wide load comment but I didn’t let it bother me, I just climbed into bed and drifted off, safe in the knowledge that there was only one more day until the weekend. Fridays were always my favourite of the school days, not only was it almost the weekend but I had most of my favourite subjects then. I liked subjects that challenged me rather than less taxing ones like geography or social studies; I wanted something I could get my teeth into rather than being bored with easy subjects. As usual Jake had his flock around him but I was able to avoid them as much as possible. I could tell a few times he’d looked my way though I just avoided looking up in case I made eye contact and betrayed myself with a goofy smile or something. I stayed on after school as usual and was surprised when I was interrupted by Jake. “I thought I’d find you in here.” He said, making me stop what I was doing. “What are you doing here?” I asked with surprise. “Well that’s a fine greeting.” He looked a little wounded. “Sorry, I just meant you don’t usually come here.” I blushed, trying not to offend him any more. “With good reason.” He said, with a slight look of disdain as his eyes travelled around the room then he turned back to me with a smile that almost melted me. “I knew you’d be here so I came to find you.” “Me? What for?” “Well, I need your help with something so I wanted to see if you were free over the weekend.” I couldn’t believe my luck, he actually wanted to spend some time with me, but I still wasn’t sure. “My parents are away this weekend so I’ve got the house to myself. What do you want help with?” I asked. “I’ll explain over the weekend, shall I come to yours then? It’ll be easier without anyone else around.” I was still confused about what he wanted but I agreed. The strange thing was, when I gave him my address he never wrote it down or saved it in his phone, he just seemed to remember it like he already knew it. “Cool, I’ll let you get back to all this and see you tomorrow, around 9 ok?” “Sure, see you then.” I was still confused as to what that was all about but I suddenly realised I was going to be alone with my crush tomorrow and started to get really nervous. I finished up quickly then headed home again, knowing that my parents were already out of town for the weekend so I had the place to myself. I busied myself for the rest of the night putting things away that I didn’t want Jake to see or anything potentially embarrassing, and then went to bed with a mixture of joy and worry coursing through my body.

Chapter 1: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14262-the-librarian/ Chapter 2: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14459-the-librarian-chapter-2/ Chapter 3: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/14606-the-librarian-chapter-3/ Chapter 4: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/15004-the-librarian-chapter-4/ Chapter 5: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/15434-the-librarian-chapter-5/ Chapter 6: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/15680-the-librarian-chapter-6/ Ok, time for the final chapter. Sorry this took so long. I felt like this wasn't my best effort so I struggled to get it finished. Hopefully it is still good enough to give you some, ahem, satisfaction ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ CHAPTER SEVEN The next morning Tom crept out of the hotel room. He briefly stirred Austin awake for a long goodbye kiss. Stretching his arms, the young man smiled warmly as their lips met. “Wow, Tom. Last night was incredible. I can believe you fucked me four more times.” Austin grinned and gave Tom another long passionate kiss, feeling the overnight stubble of the big man giving him sensuous scrape on his own cheek. “Mmm, I'm going to miss you. I'm so exhausted though I just...need...some...more sleep.” Austin laid back down and drifted back into slumber. Tom examined the tight ripped body of his conquest, admiring how he had completely worn out such a fantastic specimen of young manhood. The thought made him grin, but he smiled even wider as he noted how tight his clothing was. All the exercise last night, along with the catalytic affects of the growth powder had pushed him to new dimensions. He rested that afternoon and enjoyed some new chapters of his book while lounging out in the backyard sun. The bright sun glistened off his newly engorged muscles, deepening his tan. After five more chapters he lightly dozed off and was awoken by his buzzing phone. It was Jack, he wanted to get together with Tom that night before he had to head leave town. [How about another workout and then we go out?] the text from Jack said. [I'm down for the workout, but how about I treat you to a nice meal at my place.] [Hard to say no to that! Lift at 5:00pm?] [See you there!] Tom treated himself to a filling pre-workout meal. He felt like he ate more than he ever had in his life, no doubt due to his new size. Of course, his meal was assisted by a mixed protein shake with more of the powder mixed in. He wasn't about to stop this growth train. An hour later, his body rested and fueled, Tom made his way to the gym. Since it was Sunday afternoon the place was practically deserted. Only a couple of the hardcore members came in on Sundays. Tom was now firmly established in that group. “HOLY SHIT, DUDE!” Tom heard Jack's deep voice behind him. Smiling, he turned around and eyed the hot body of Jack. “Damn, man, you look bigger every time I see you. You must be on some crazy hardcore cycle right now. I'm jealous!” Jack waltzed up and wrapped both his hands around Tom's biceps. The large librarian instinctively flexed as he felt the calloused palms on his dense arms. “There is no way my hands can even get close to wrapping around these monsters, damn dude!” Jack groped and explored the other parts of Tom's body. Tom soaked in the praise from the hot man feeling him up. Like Tom, Jack was also in a stringer tank and some mid-thigh length gym shorts. He noted with extreme satisfaction that his own arms now seemed to be larger than Jack's own 22” cannons! Being taller sometimes it was hard to tell. Tom noticed Jack look around the rest of the gym, only spotting two other lifters completely disregarding the pair. Making sure they weren't looking, Jack smirked and gave Tom's prodigious bulge a surprise squeeze. The big man jumped but found the move very erotic. Jack chuckled. “Yep, that big monster is still there,” he said quietly. “C'mon man, time to GROW!” The duo had no particular plan for this workout. It was primarily to be used as a form of muscle-man foreplay for their date. They opted for a full body routine to hit the major muscle groups. First up they started with some incline presses. The warmup sets progressed and soon another realization hit Tom. Where he used to end his incline benches with 225, he now using that as a warm up. “I'm feeling it today, Jack! 225 has never felt so light!” Jack, not knowing Tom's secret, was surprised. “Really?. As huge as you are I woulda thought that was nothing for you.” The two men added quarters. Once again 275 was also light. Tom hefted out 10 easy reps. Jack did as well. Finally it was time for three plates, a full 315. Jack got under the bar and repped out a hard set of ten. He stood up and swung his arms back and forth and flexed his pecs. “Nothing like that feeling of a huge pump, eh Tom?” Tom stared at the deepening cleavage of his muse, then realized his own pecs were just as big. He slid down on the bench and repped out another easy ten! “Damn, big man! Making me feel small today, haha,” Jack teased. Weight was added. First 355 then 385. Jack was able to pound out another nine and then six reps respectively. But Tom got another easy set of ten at 335 and then a hard fought set of 10 again at 385! By now the other two lifters had left. Tom and Jack had now worked up a good sweat and Jack stripped off his stringer, making Tom whistle in approval. “You are beastin' today, Tom. Get that tank off...wow.” Jack whistled back. “Ok I'm good on these, you want to try more? Gotta go till failure, big man.” The two then loaded on another plate on each side. Four plates per side. 405 total pounds. A weight that a few months ago would've seemed impossible not just to bench, but to squat or deadlift too! Tom slid onto the bench, Jack smiling handsomely down from above, his big pecs looming above the bar. “You got this, stud,” Jack encouraged. Tom lifted the bar and slowly let it fall to the massive exposed shelf of his pecs. After a quick hold he drove his elbows up, easily raising the bar. Again. Then again...and again! After the sixth rep he began to feel the weight, but with perfect form, he continued. With some monster grunts he forced out another three reps. From above, Jack noticed how deeply red and flushed Tom's chest muscles were getting, almost like a sunburn. He coached his growing buddy. “C'mon man. Keep growing. Those pecs aren't big enough. Make them big. HUGE. PUSH IT!” Another rep was eeked out. Large drops of sweat began to fall down his pumped chest muscles into the gorge in between. “GAH!” Tom grunted and extended his elbow, panting heavily. Jack commanded. “One more! DO IT!” Tom lowered the weight, slowly, perfectly, controlled. The cool bar grazed his tanned flesh, creating a bridge between the grand canyon below. With a grimace and grunt he pressed. The bar slowly moved up. Jack yelled for more effort. The bar moved slowly but nevertheless, never stopped moving. Up and up the bar raised. With one final push Tom's elbows were fully extend and Jack helped rerack the sagging bar. Tom jumped up and ROARED a most muscular flex to no one in particular, savoring the insane pump and feeling of masculine accomplishment. He felt like he could rest his chin on his pecs they were so bunched up. He turned around and Jack was staring in awe. “Shit dude, that was awesome,” he said quietly, reverently. Jack reached up and put his palms on Tom's chest. “Wow, man. I've never seen someone get such a huge pump.” Jack pressed into the dense pillows of muscle, feeling the warmth and heft of the pectoral meat. His fingers dug into the muscle until Tom flexed, instantly forcing Jack's grip wide and out. Tom relaxed and Jack kneaded them some more, using his palms and fingers to feel the roundness while his thumbs slipped down and rubbed Tom's nipples. “OH SHIT!” Tom sucked in some air at the erotic shock sent from his nipples down to his cock, which was already filling with blood. Jack smirked and looked down at Tom's shorts. “Haha. Down boy. We still got more muscle to pump.” Tom caught his breath, reached out and snatched Jack's big forearms pushing them away from his pecs. “Well, then you better be careful what you touch, there mister,” he said with a grin. Suddenly he leaned forward and gave Jack a quick kiss, leaving him stunned. “And there be much more of that and other things later, stud,” Tom said as he stepped away and unloaded his side of the weights. Jack's own bulge expanded as he smiled and helped unload the bar. The rest of the workout proceeded much the same. Tom set a new personal best on each and every exercise they did, even squats! Being a tall man, he notoriously hated to train his legs, but with his hard work and the help of the powder, his legs were becoming quite possibly his best muscle group. “Those wheels are enormous, big guy! You're quads are even bigger proportionally than mine. I gotta feels these beasts.” As Tom performed his leg extensions, Jack's hands were all over the bulging mass of sinews. On each hardcore flex at the top of the motion, Jack made Tom hold the position while his nimble hands traced the separations. “Fuck man, look at that insane rectus femoris, that huge vastus medialis! All so huge and and striated. Burn those muscles. Force that blood into them, Tom. GROW!” Tom grunted and groaned, forcing rep after rep until he could do no more. The weight slammed down so hard and was so heavy that it launched his large body up forward. Luckily, since Jack was in front massaging his legs he was able to catch him...sort of. “Woah there, stud! OOF!” The heavy weight of the monumentally buff librarain falling at him surprised Jack. He wrapped his own big arms around Tom and Tom did the same for support. Their sweaty pecs smacked against each other. Jack briefly held firm but the enormous weight of giant librarian and his own tired and pumped legs sent him backwards. Jack, being no stranger to holding heavy objects was able to control his fall, first sinking to his butt and them on his back as Tom landed on him chest to chest. Their arms were still wrapped around each other and Jack savored the feel of Tom on top of him. Chuckling, Jack spoke, “You just couldn't wait to get me on my back, could you?” While on the ground Jack began to flex and grind his hips into Tom. As the feeling returned to his quads, Tom grinned down at Jack. “You better be careful there wriggling like that under me. I may not be able to control myself.” The two laughed and stood up, Tom doing so in a very slow and wobbly manner due to the insane pump in his legs. “Easy there, big man,” Jack said as he helped Tom up. The rest of the workout processed with more intensity and new personal bests. After each pump Tom seemed to swell larger and LARGER. It was like his pump was compounding on itself. The two men finished up with biceps. While Tom was cranking out dumbbell biceps curl with 85 lb dumbbells Jack sauntered up right behind him and felt up the big man's arms while he ground his bulge into Tom's glutes. “Perfect reps, big Tom. Force that blood into those peaks.” Jack leaned forward to Tom's ear, “Watching you is forcing a lot of blood into my cock.” Tom let his arms fall to his side and turned to see Jack's face behind his shoulder and gave him a knowing grin. With their full bodies pumped to the max the two headed to the locker room. By now the gym had closed and the two were the last humans in the building. The attendant has closed up and left. “Just make sure the door is closed behind you,” the young man had said with a wave. In the locker room the two disrobed their renaming clothing. Once naked they simply stared at each other. Jack licked his lips as he eyed the incredible physique in front of him. Tom did the same. “Tom, you are incredible. So big. So dense. I've never seen this kind of full, bloated, dense musculature on a man so tall. And everything is still tight and defined! You're still rockin' that six pack. Geezus. How much do you weigh? Shit, you look like you are closing in on 300 lbs.” Tom's cock had reached full mast as he stared at the naked bodybuilder before him singing his praises. Jack chuckled and joked. “I bet you are carrying 20 lbs just in you COCK. Fuck, that thing is huge...” Tom stepped on the scale and digital display calculated. The number that show made Tom moan and his dick leak. 313 lbs. “Holy shit. Dude you are one of the biggest bodybuilders there is, do you realize that? You almost look stage ready with how shredded you are. Very few men, probably less than five, have ever stepped on stage at the Mr. Olympia weighing over 300 lbs. And you look like you have room for even more muscle! Your body is perfect. You are making me leak just looking at you. And so handsome too. You've got it all.” Tom wrapped his big arms around his smaller yet still massive lover and kissed him deep as their two swords of flesh fought each other below. “Tom, can I measure the rest of you? I want to know what kind of stats come on a man so BIG.” With a smirk, Tom replied, “Oh yeah, go and measure. Everything,” he added with a sexy wink. Jack grabbed the tape measure and began taking Tom's stats. He started at the bottom and worked his way. Crouching, he wrapped the the tape around Tom's calves. “21 inches. Bigger than most bodybuilders' arms. So hot.” At the news Tom reared up flexing his diamond boulders into extreme relief. Jack slid his hands up Tom monstrous thighs, giving the pillars of power some love before the big reveal. He ran his strong hands up and down the long but massive muscles, Tom's bulls nuts bounced along the top of Jack's hands at the top of this admiration strokes. He gave Tom's right quad a kiss and then taped them. “34 inches. Fucking monster wheels, big man. Mine are just a hair over 32.” Jack now stood up, letting the tip of Tom's cock drag along his own incredible physique as he rises with a grin, causing Tom to shudder due to the sensation. He wrapped his big arms around Tom's waist, grabbed his mighty glutes and pulled him tight, leaning up to give the big man a kiss. He released the kiss and stood back with the tape in hand. “Unreal, Tom. Your waist is just 32 inches. These abs are so tight and deep.” As the stats were revealed Tom just closed eyes and his cock pulses. He knew he had grown but the knowledge of just hot much bigger he'd swelled in the last couple of days had his bulls churning and his cock throbbing. Jack slid his hands upward. “Lift your arms a bit, big man. With all that chest and arm meat I need some space for access. Heh heh, I hope I can reach around these giant pecs and that barn door back of yours.” Tom chuckled, “'Barn door back'”? “Oh yeah, stud. I'm originally from Nebraska so all your hugeness reminds of beefy bulls and farms of the heartland. Ok now drop those arms.” Tom let his arms fall and his big pecs bunched up even more, seemingly growing in front of Jack. “Do you like big chests, big guy? Because yours is enormous. How does 62 inches sound?” “MMMMMmmmmmm. Oh fuck, I'm so big!” “Yeah you are. A beast of huge, aesthetic muscle. Incredible proportions. Ok, you ready for those big arms? FLEX THEM!” Tom quickly brought his arms up a tremendous pose with a growl. “Oh yeah, look at those giant arms. So big. These've gotta be some of the biggest muscular arms I've ever seen. I gotta feel these.” Jack then engaged in some hardcore admiration of Tom's arms. He nuzzled his nose against the mighty hanging ham-sized triceps, bulging downward to the floor. He then rubbed his stubbled cheek upward until he brought his lips to kiss the melon-sized lump of his biceps. He swirled his tongue on the peak, pointing it to trace the split peaks. Covering the muscle in his saliva as his hands caressed Tom's triceps. “Ok, I'll have to revisit these arms more later, let's find out how huge these arm. Oh shit, big man, I hope I have enough tape for this cannonball arm. Unreal guns, dude! Bigger than the last few Mr. O's! These arms are almost 24 inches HUGE!” “UUUUUUUHHHHHHHhhh,” Tom groaned in pleasure. It took all his effort to keep from painting his admirer's pumped physique. “Hold it in, Tom. Hold it in.” Jack leaned in close as Tom regained control. “Hold it in, because I want that inside of me later,” which only tested Tom's self control even more, causing Jack to chuckle. “Ok let's grab our post workout shake and then jump in the shower. We need to clean up...and maybe have bit more fun.” “That's sounds like a great plan, Jack. Bur first, you forgot one measurement.” Jack smarks his forehead dramatically, “How stupid of me, to forget perhaps the most impressive part on your already impressive body.” With a devilish grin he adds, “Well, let's measure those forearms!” The joke caused Tom to throw his head back and laugh. Jack laughs with him and then reached down, tape in hand. “Wow, look at this thing. It's good thing we don't have a ruler because it wouldn't be long enough! I just put the tap at the base. And no pushing in, no cheating on the length! Hehe. And then we stretch the tape out along to the top of this LOOOOONG cock. Look at all those inches go by. Six, seven, eight, nine. Still plenty more to go. Another inch...and another...almost there...” “..And there is Tom. You are the proud owner of a 13.25 inch monster cock.” Tom moaned in deep satisfaction. He instantly had to step away so that Jack's fingers are no longer touching his tool else he would explode like an atom bomb. It was now confirmed that Tom had one of the biggest cocks on Earth! Over twice as long as the average male. It made him feel even more manly and powerful. He closed his eyes as the feeling of sexual power faded, just slightly enough to allow him to control himself. He opened his eyes to see Jack smiling back. “Thought I lost you there. We will definitely have to revisit this and all of you very soon. But first, let's fuel up so we grow even more.” The two naked bodybuilders headed to their lockers to pull out their post-workout shakes. As Tom eyed his cup, the desire to grow more coursed through his body. He reached into the small tub of the special powder. Jack noticed, “An extra scoop today, eh?” “Oh yeah. A big workout with a studly lifting partner. I feel extra motivated today.” The bodybuilding librarian ended up mixing and extra scoop and half of his special powder. The two men filled their shakers with water and chugged down the protein-laden drinks. A warm feeling of energy spread throughout his frame. “Tom, you got some protein shake dribbling down your pecs, let's hit the showers and clean that up.” Jack reached out and swatted the bulbous glutes his larger friend and the two strode into the communal shower. Jack turned on the showers and let the water heat up until a nice steam buildup filled the tiled room. Jack squirted some shower gel into his hands and began to lovingly work the soap into Tom's body. “I'm gonna need a handful of this stuff for each muscle group, you've gotten so big.” At Jack's direction, Tom flexed whatever muscle Jack scrubbed. Starting with 'pecs', Tom cranked down into a most muscle pose. Jack worked the soap all over the pectorals that hardened into stone with the flex. Jack's soapy fingers traced the striations in Tom's upper chest. At one point he tried to insert his fingertips into the muscular gulch in between but was unable until Tom relaxed. Jack took extra time to work the under shelf, feeling and lifting the heavy flesh. With a grin he used his soapy fingers to tease and then pinch the big mans nipples, causing the hunk to shudder. “MMMMMmmmm feels so good, Jack. Wash my big muscles.” “With pleasure.” Jack turned Tom around and began to wash his back. He worked his hands over the lumpy, tanned expanse. Squeezing the lats and the traps. Tom couldn't see him, but Jack then squirted a bunch of gel on his own chest, lathered it up, wrapped his arms around Tom. Jack was using his own muscular chest to scrub Tom's back while he reached around to soap up the bumps and canyons of his abs. Tom felt Jack's tumescence nestle in between his bouldered glutes like a bratwurst in a bun. Jack used his strength to squeeze their bodies together into one. In front, Tom grabbed Jack's forearms and undulated his ass causing Jack to moan in his ear. Jack eventually releases the grip and walks around Tom again where he instructed him to throw up a double biceps pose. “Amazing. So fucking beautiful. Look at these canons. Those deep, DEEP pits flanked by pec, delts and biceps muscles. Rawr!” Jack growled then first spent three straight minutes licking Tom's right biceps muscle. Sucking and licking up the shower water that coated the glorious muscles. Tom flexed and unflexed making the muscle pump. Tom could feel the effects of the growth powder and knew that with every flex his arms were swelling with a trace of new size. Jack attacked his pits and the heavy hanging meat of his triceps as the two men moaned in muscular delight. Finally, once Jack had his fill he soaped up the mighty arm and then repeated the process with the left. Jack then dropped to his knees and worked his hands up each calf muscle and then the trunks of his legs. With so much quad muscle it again took a fair amount of time to give the legs the proper attention. Each of the four quad muscles were so large and defined that Jack was able to wash each one individually. Tom once again felt the pump in his legs growing, not just from the recent workout but the swelling recovery aided by the powder. Once each leg had been washed, Jack looked up and begins to kiss Tom's engorged cock. He took time sucking on the shaft and head of the mighty pole before using his slick wet hands to masturbate his Adonis friend. “Oh fuck, Jack! Suck me, stud. Suck that huge man cock!” After another few minutes of cocksucking, Jack then handed Tom the gel. Tom then began his own session of cleaning and sensually admiring the muscle stud in front of him. It was a dream come true. For decades Tom had dreamed of getting to feel up a true bodybuilder. Not some in-shape wannabe, but a true, ripped, bulging musclehead. Just like Jack. Even though he now had the body of his dreams, his excitement was inflated getting to feel up another bodybuilder. His big hand traced all over Jack's body, who flexed each muscle that Tom explored. Like Jack did, eventually he attacks the wide bulging mass of Jack's back, pulling the smaller yet still huge man against his immense form. With his height and longer arms Tom reached around and over and massaged Jack's nipples and cock as he nibbled on his traps and shoulders. He grinded his own rock hard cock into Jack's muscle butt. Jack turned his head and moaned into Tom's face, “Oh fuck. Fuck. So hot. You've got me so damn horny. I can't wait until after dinner. Do it, Tom. Fuck me. Fuck me with your giant cock.” Tom couldn't believe what he was hearing, but Jack's words made his cock surge with hardness. Perhaps it was the raging hormones of being so turned out, as Tom's entire body felt flush again even within the already hot spray of the shower. Tom reached his hand down to Jack's butt and began to use his fingers to loosen him up. Jack leaned forward slightly bracing himself against the shower wall. Once ready Tom slightly bent his knees and lined up the plum-size head at Jack's entrance, casing the bottom to moan. “C'mon man. Put it in. I need your muscle cock. That big bodybuilder cock!” This was it. Tom took a brief moment to remember the decades of lusting over bodybuilders. Austin was hot and fit, but he was not a bodybuilder. He remembered back years when we still fucking women. Would this feel better? Worse? The same? With a flex of his glutes the head popped in, breaching Jack's tight hole. “FUCCCCKKKKK!” Jack yelled. “So...so... BIG. AHHH!” Tom saw stars as the unreal sensation of masculine pleasure flooded his system. Every muscle flexed at the power he was feeling. Jack's tight butt along with his globular gluteus maximus muscle massaging his power tool nearly sent him over the edge just from initial penetration. Tom thrust in a couple more inches. “Geezus, Tom! You are stretching me out! Biggest I've had by far!” Hearing this only spurred Tom on even more and stoked his confidence. “Biggest by far, you say? Guess what, there's A LOT more to go!” “Fuck yeah, stud. Fuck me. Fuck my muscles!” Tom grabbed Jack's shoulders and with leverage slowly thrust the rest of the way in, causing Jack to hiss and Tom to groan some more. He held himself deep inside as Jack adjusted. Once he was ready Tom began to retreat and reenter, thrusting many inches in and out at a time. “There you go, big man. I normally top. I only let the biggest and best take my ass. You are the BIGGEST AND BEST! Fuck!” Tom continued to fuck Jack. It was far better than any woman or Austin. Jack's tight glutes and strong built body squeezed his cock with more sensations than anybody he'd had sex with ever before. Not to mention while simultaneously getting to feel the bulging muscles of the man he was pounding. As Tom continued to thrust Jack continued to moan louder and louder. “Fuck. It feels like your cock is actually getting bigger! Are you getting close?” Tom could have erupted at any time yet he noted Jack's words. His eyes had been rolled up and closed as he let the erotic sensations tickle his body. But he opened his eyes at Jack's words and looked down. It was then that he too noticed that Jack felt...tighter on his dick. Tom eyeballed his arms looking more vascular than ever. The cephalic veins on his arms were pulsing visibly. He released one hand from Jack's shoulder and flexed for himself. He could see it. His biceps were bigger. His cock was bigger. He was growing. Growing while inside of Jack. Tom looked down to see his pecs pumping up larger and larger. As he looked down his chin collided with the pec meat, impeding his downward gaze. He could feel himself slightly adjust his stance as his quads and hamstrings grew in every direction. The sexual exertion combined with the extra powder was causing him to swell right in front of his eyes! Jack, of course, could not see as he was facing forward and downward, nevermind the fact that his eyes were closed from the extreme bliss he felt as Tom's dick raked his love-nut. But he felt the effects inside. Tom couldn't help but voice his excitement. “I'm growing so big. So fucking huge. Ripped. Vascular. Bulging. I love being big. Being huge. And I can't wait...to...grow...fucking...BIGGER!!!!” With final thrust all the way in, expanding Jack's ring to new limits, Tom unloaded his essence. Instantly Jack's own cock began to expel juice onto the shower floor. With grunt after grunt Tom orgasmed, his body trembling as he pumped up even bigger. Jack continued to shoot as well, though tapering off well before the god-like bookworm bodybuilder finished. As the feelings of bliss drifted away, Tom wrapped his brawny arms around Jack and stood him upright, grabbing his chin, turning his head and kissing Jack. Tom wondered internally just how much bigger he had grown. At least another 15 lbs, maybe even 20. All added in less than 30 minutes of hot steamy shower time. He was thankful that at already over 300 lbs, another 15-20 wasn't too noticeable. The two made out for a few more minutes before Tom's removed his bull cock from Jack. “Tom, that was amazing.” “Thanks, Jack. I thought so too. You just helped me fulfill a dream of mine.” “Well, big man. Let's say we go have that nice meal...and then perhaps we can come up with some more dreams...or fantasies to fulfill after!” “That's sounds awesome, Jack.” “Yes it does indeed. Cripes, Tom. You pump up so huge with any exertion, even fucking. You are totally swole!” Jack reaches out and feels Tom's flexed arms, which look to be encroaching on 25 incredible inches. “What can I say, Jack. My body LOVES to grow. Let's get dressed and have that meal.” --- Jack would spend that night with Tom and the two would engage in hours of muscle play and bodybuilder lovemaking. Sadly, in the morning Jack had to return back home up north the next morning. Once he departed Tom looked in his cupboard and located the tub of growth powder. He used so much during the last few days to pack on nearly 75 lbs of muscle that was he nearly out, disappointing him. Arriving at the library that morning before the others, he prepared himself for what he would tell Susan and the rest of his workers about his new growth. He was already huge to them at the end of last week, maybe they wouldn't notice the growth? Fat chance, he thought to himself. 75 lbs is a lot to hide, especially since he hadn't had a chance to upgrade his clothes yet. Those XXXL-Tall shirts all felt painted on. Oh well, he would think of something. Tom walked into the closet which now seemed like a much tighter fit compared to last week. His shoulders must've been another 6-10 inches wider. He located the last tub of powder and went to inspect it. As he turned to leave his massive shoulders collided with the old wooden shelves, causing the flimsy end panel to snap off. “I'm like a literal bull in a china closet in here,” he chuckled to himself. As he inspected the broken end panel of the shelf he noticed and opening in the wall behind. It was small, about the size of an electrical socket and at first that's what he thought it was. Until he noticed some strange markings around it. He reached in to grab the opening. With a tug, a large section of the wall slide forward by and inch or so. “What the hell?” Using his Herculean strength, Tom easily moved the large shelf away from the wall. He was then able to fully remove the wall section, which ended up being about a 3 x 4 feet chunk. As he set the dislodged wall panel aside he looks inside. It quickly becomes apparent that the current wall of the closet is a false wall. As he peers inside the opening it reveals a thin, long space behind the current wall, about three feet wide. And in that thin space is more shelving. And all the shelves are filled with the black tubs of that magical growth powder. THE END.

In this space will be the links with the story, enjoy! Intoduction and chapters 1-4: Chapter 5: Chapter 6: Chapter 7:

Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad October 21st, 2022 2200 Hours Twenty minutes later, Casey stood in the center of the main Valhalla laboratory, stripped down to a tight shiny black micro posing suit, bulging dangerously in the pouch, and threatening to burst. His muscles glowed. He was huge, enormous, the biggest he had been yet in his young life. Lightly oiled, his youthful brown skin gleamed in the clear white LED light. Dr. Zaftig stood at his side, beaming with calm inner pride. But Casey was nervous. There he was, stripped down to bulging posers that barely covered his manhood, and ready for review. For the first time. And as always, in some place deep inside him, he was embarrassed by his hugely oversized penis. It was just too big. One by one, the 18 bodybuilders filed in silently from their post-White Cap-workout showers in the next wing, looking over the gigantic new recruit with studied casualness. For almost two years they’d grimly listened to Dr. Irving’s deliberately passive-aggressive progress reports. Casey was this, Casey had that, Casey lifted this much, Casey was however-big, Casey was the hope of the future. Etc. They were weary of it. They were angered by it. And some were threatened by it. And perhaps, just a little fearful? No: not fearful. Challenged. And in the case of Hension, Blankenship, Lang, Meyer and Waring, more inspired than anything else. “If he’s that big, I wanna be bigger,” said Hension one afternoon at lunch, to no one in particular. Chad smacked him on the back of his head, and with a short grunt, Hension came a little in his jock. “Sorry. I forgot you liked that.” “I’d like it more if you were a girl.” Hension had long since given up hiding his particular fetish. He took a big mouthful of beef and chewed, ruminating. “You wanna fuck pussy? Abdul can arrange.” From across the table, Abdul grunted and shook his head. “He don’t want pussy.” “Naw. He’s right. I don’t. Hot pussy don’t dig muscles like mine. I just wanna chick who knows how to slap my face right. Good and hard each time. Back and forth. Pow, pow. Leave hand prints. Then I wanna fuck boybutt pussy. And suck some big dick.” Hension looked at Abdul. “Yours, maybe.” Abdul nodded slightly. “Sure, you suck dick good. Any time.” He sipped his coffee. All chuckled a little, but everyone was still thinking about Casey. Over the last few weeks, a few had gone so far as to belly up secretly to the cadet gym two-way windows late at night to watch and study Casey’s lonely training late night training sessions. There the giant teen was, alone night after night in the vast half lit gym, fully clothed, muscles bulging in the yards of a completely enveloping, dripping cotton sweatsuit, insanely going through punishing reps, hurling buckets of sweat, drawing blood, banging out steaming iron reps with teeth-clenching screaming pain, grimly determined, all the while screaming and moaning to himself: Gotta get bigger Gotta get bigger Gotta get bigger….. And on it went. Night after night. The boy was insatiable, indefatigable. As if nothing could ever stop him. And now, the time had finally come. Casey watched them file into the lab. Outfitted in crisp, clean tan khakis and wearing skin tight Army regulation green t-shirts, hair still wet from their post-workout showers, they were an intimidating herd of hardcore beefmeisters. Huge, cut, and vascular to a man, their massive physiques almost aching with heavy, rippling muscle. Casey had been watching them for months, grabbing glimpses of them on campus, running, bicycling, practicing their posing, whenever he could, just as he knew they had been watching him as well in the corridors and working out in the cadet gym. He even knew a few of them by name. Private Lang and Corporal Alvarez, who were always together, Private Gunst, Private Waring, Private Jin. He had never spoken to any of them, out of shyness and awe. And he even recognized Corporal Obatu from Raw Weight Gym. He nodded bashfully to him. Obatu grinned hugely and waved with his huge paw of a hand. “Hello, Casey,” he said in his best Isaac Hayes. “Hi!” Casey said eagerly, but caught the glance from Zaftig. He resumed his blank expression, readjusted, and gazed ahead, eyes high. He squared his shoulders and stood with his pecs pointed high in full 'bodybuilder rest' pose. Of course Casey knew nothing of the cum-blasting shower orgy from which the men had just emerged. And to a man, rather feeling drained, all were primed and ready....for whatever came next. A few had their hopes, but discipline would prevail. Tonight was presentation. Only. Or so they thought. The men looked him over. “Hmmmm,” muttered Schumacher. “Damn he’s got big nipples!” someone whispered. There was the sound of that someone being smacked. In the second row of bodybuilders, an astonishingly handsome young bodybuilder stumbled and grabbed the back of the head. “Hey!” said Hension, indignant. “Shut up,” said Chad. Casey was excited. These men were seriously huge, each and every one far even bigger than Miles Donovan. Though he was almost sure he was prepared for them, even so – man alive! This was a lotta muscle. He gulped with nervousness. Sergeant Moster entered last. Casey stared, suddenly stricken. He’d never seen Moster before. Even in his clean white loose-fit baggies, he was the biggest muscleman Casey had ever seen in his life. It seemed to him he towered over the others, though truth to tell, if he’d been calmer he’d have noticed that at least 3 of the men were close to him in size and muscularity. Close. But not the equal. Not yet. “This is Staff Sergeant Rod Moster,” said Dr. Zaftig. Behind Moster, Dr. Irving scurried into the room, struggling noisily with his omnipresent video camera, lights, and clipboards. “Sergeant Moster will be supervising your training in the future.” “Yes, sir!” Casey had never been prouder. He stood straight and tall. Moster strolled over to Casey. “So this is Cadet Rockland,” he said slowly, appraising him up and down. He seemed to take over from Zaftig, who stepped back, offering no protest. Here, Moster was in charge. Moster circled Casey. He looked impressed, in spite of himself. Finally he had to give in. He turned to Zaftig. A moment passed. “He’s got great bones,” he said quietly. “Yes, great bones,” said Zaftig. “Bones like that come along once every three generations.” “He could go the limit.” “Maybe. Can’t tell yet.” What’s all this about bones? Casey wondered. He gathered it was something good, though, even great, so he stood erect, proud and tall. He fixed his clear blue eyes on the wall straight ahead and stood at attention. To a man, the 18 glanced down at the boy’s pendulously swaying posing suit pouch. The soft, thick bulge lay slack than halfway down against his right quad. Lang licked his lips. Next to him, Blankenship dug his elbow into Lang's abs, nodded, smiled, and winked. He pointed to his own mouth and with his fist simulated taking in a big organ. Moster barked out a few terse questions. “How old are you, Casey?” “18.” “What was that?” “18.” He corrected himself, and barked, “I’m 18, sir!” “That’s much better.” Moster smiled, amused. “And how much do you weigh, cadet?” “310 pounds, sir.” “Hmm. Really. Good. Good for you, son.” Casey readjusted and stood a little taller when he heard the huge black man say "son." Now the 18 were murmuring and looking him over with critical sharpness. Looking for weaknesses, looking for a lack of symmetry, looking for a spot of subcutaneous fat. And no weaknesses were to be found. One short young ginger muscleman whose name he didn’t know was smiling at him sardonically. He was uncommonly good-looking, as were they all, but something about him looked mean. He whispered to a grizzled older bodybuilder next to him, who was bigger and even meaner looking than he was. The older guy scowled. He was perhaps 40, bald, with rough deeply tanned skin, a day old beard, and a chest coating of iron-grey hair. Casey couldn’t help but notice the heavily looming bulges in the crotches of their khakis. As he tried not to stare, the pretty one who had gotten his head smacked reached down the front of his pants for some adjustment. Moster followed his gaze and smiled a little. Zaftig, as always, was clueless. "Tell him to turn around." "Casey, let the men see your back." Casey turned full around, facing the rear of the lab. He readjusted. He couldn't see the men's faces. But he could hear them. A few moaned quietly. "Jesu Christe, check out dem glutes..." Two round, rock hard butt cheek globes, glinting with light filled the room. No one could look elsewhere. Meyer, the deaf mute, stared, his mouth slightly open. He turned and nodded vigorously to Abdul, toweing over him, pulling at his belt. "Yeah, I see them," said Abdul, careful to face Meyer so he could read his lips. "Them. Er. Him. I see him." "For the record," said Zaftig airily, "Dr. Irving and I think Casey's traps and rear delts may be his best bodyparts." "Yeah, they'll do," said Alvarez. His hand went down to the front of his pants absently. His bulge was beginning to get a little bigger. "Now that's a bubble butt," said Obatu. "Sweet, sweet cupcakes. Cupcakes for a man to enjoy...." Casey was coloring deeply, glad the men couldn't see his face. "Lat spread, Casey," said Zaftig. Casey complied. Bat wings spread wide, fists plunged into his sides. His spread his legs slightly for the full effect. "And now, rear double biceps." Cannonballs shot to the ceiling. The glutes hardened slightly, veins popping, striations shining like rivers of platinum. "All right, then, turn back. Sergeant?" "Yes." Moster walked to a lab table and picked up a thick 4-foot iron bar. He tossed it at Casey, who caught it handily with one hand. It weighed about 75 pounds. “See what you can do with that, son.” Casey paused. “Sir?” “I’m not going to say it twice.” Casey nodded. He imagined the sergeant wanted him to bend the bar. He wanted to impress him, so he raised the bar high over his head, and easily bent it into a U shape. He brought the bar down and inspected it a moment, and then walked respectfully over to Sergeant Moster and handed it to him eagerly. Moster took it. “Okay, fair, fair,” he said, nodding and showing the bent bar to the group. Some of the men began to nod and chuckle. Casey returned to his spot and resumed his muscle-ready stance. Moster took the bar in his powerful hands, and bent it back to something like its original shape. He grinned, his big white teeth shining. Then he threw the bar into the air, caught it, and with a single movement powerfully snapped it in two. Casey’s jaw dropped. “Damn,” he said. “Dr. Irving, let’s hear the man’s measurements.” “We haven’t taken his measurements for a month, Sergeant.” Moster glanced down over Zaftig, his deep voice resonating. “You present a new cadet to the team, and you don’t have his recent measurements? Zaftig, you’re getting sloppy.” “I thought perhaps you might want to record the cadet’s measurements for yourself, Sergeant,” Zaftig said slyly. He wasn’t intimidated. Moster looked at Zaftig expressionlessly, then called back over his shoulder. “Private Tiffany, step forward and take the man’s measurements.” The short ginger bodybuilder stepped forward cockily. He looked younger than Casey, though Casey guessed he was really just his age. His wavy red-black hair fell in a forelock over his forehead. He had freckles. His skin was butterscotch tan, his eyes a deep, rich blue. And, like the others, he was hugely muscular, packing well over 220 pounds on his 5’6” frame. Casey noted the perfect round shape of his strong young baseball biceps, rife with rivulets of veins, and the piston-thick forearms. His heavy shoulders bulged with packed muscle. He could have moved pianos with one hand. He was bow-legged, his quads swaying gently outward as he walked. In his fly, his package appeared to be nearly as big as Casey knew his own to be, but on such a short guy it appeared twice as big. He looked as if he had to walk around his dick with each step he took. And he looked vaguely familiar. “This is Private 1st Class Joe Tiffany. I see you’re wondering about his age. Private Tiffany, get the tape measure and the clipboard from Dr. Irving. Tiffany here is 19 years old. He started with The Protocol when he was 15. I’m sure you two will be great buddies.” Casey didn’t know what to make of this. He decided that even with the kid’s big muscles, thick package and all, he didn’t want to be buddies with him. “Okay,” he said. “Hello.” Tiffany stepped forward, extending a hand as if to shake and, as Casey leaned in, walked past him, instead taking the tape measure and clipboard from Dr. Irving. Turning back, he graciously handed just the clipboard to Moster, and strolled confidently over to Casey. He looked up slyly at the baffled, tall young musclemen towering over him. “Hi, Casey,” he introduced himself breezily. “I’m Joe Tiffany. You’re very lookin’ good, man. Like the buzz cut.” Casey gazed down at Tiffany, perplexed, who grinned back at him serenely, displaying two rows of perfect white teeth. He was smart and smooth, and he grinned easily. He made Casey nervous, all the more so when, for a flash of an instant, he detected a wicked twinkle deep in Joe’s eyes. Joe winked at him. Then he wiped his face clean and looked back at Moster, all innocence. “Sir, I need some help, sir.” Moster snorted impatiently. “Corporal Schumacher, get Tiffany something he can stand on.” From the line the older guy Tiffany had been whispering to strode to the desk area and returned with a metal stool. He tossed it in the air to Tiffany, who caught it easily. While never very bright, Casey was all the same possessed of unquestionably fine animal instincts. He knew trouble when he saw it. He glanced up and down the older man Moster had addressed as Schumacher. His muscle density was impressive. His arms were thick, ripped and veiny. Two iron cross tattoos graced each forearm. His skin was calloused and rough, and his hands were huge, with bruised, knotty knuckles. He was now leaning in to Tiffany, so close to him his heavy pecs were almost touching his face. Casey could see the outlines of two heavy brown nipples in his tight Army regulation green t-shirt. Schumacher shot a dirty look up at him, and pushed his pecs into Tiffany’s’ face. “I told you before I want to see you my room. Later.” He spoke in a low tone. The muscleboy stepped back indifferently and spoke with offhand innocence. “Hey, it’s late, dude. I don’t think so tonight.” He pulled out the tape and turned to Casey. Schumacher glanced briefly up at the muscleman towering over them both and sneered a little, but Casey could spot the dash of respect in his eyes. He turned back to Tiffany. “I mean it, punk. In my room. Later.” “Leave me alone, old man. I have work to do with the young dude.” He stepped on the stool without looking again at Schumacher and stood before Casey, holding the tape measure and smiling sweetly. His words stung. Schumacher looked up at Casey and silently mouthed the words H-A-N-D-S O-F-F Casey returned the look dumbly. “Later,” Corporal Schumacher snarled to Tiffany. Moster looked up. “You have a problem, Corporal?” Schumacher turned and strode away. In the corner of the lab, Dr. Irving was recording every moment on his ever-present video cam. Standing on the stool, Joe was now a little taller than Casey. He squatted down just a little, stuck his butt out behind him for support, and brought his eyes even to Casey. He looked him up and down and whispered in his ear. “Let’s see how big you really are, buddy,” he murmured. He brought his hand down and flicked his own crotch gently with his thumb, turning his broad back for cover. Only Casey could see him do it. He looked at him out of the side of his eyes, suddenly nervous about this big little bodybuilder, who clearly had more than his share of cojones, and his dangerous muscle daddy friend, who clearly had issues. “Whenever you’re ready, Private.” “I’m ready, sir.” “Good. Get to it. Right biceps.” Casey snapped his right arm to attention and flexed the biceps full. Tiffany let out a low whistle. “Bring it on home, baby. Nice peaks. Cannonballs, even. Swole. Nice.” “Yeah, yeah,” muttered Casey, flexing both biceps now, trying to be casual. “Get to it, Private,” repeated Moster. “Okay, measuring. Sir! I’m guessing 23 inches, sir!” Casey glanced contemptuously at him with one eyebrow cocked high. “Try that again,” he said levelly. Tiffany charmingly fumbled with the tape measure and double-checked. “I’m sorry, sir,” he reported. “26 inches, sir.” “That’s better.” Casey looked forward and tried to make his face serene. He was already getting pissed. What did this young asshole know? Moster made a note on his clipboard. Behind him, Schumacher was fuming. Casey imagined he could see smoke coming out of his ears. “Left arm.” Casey lowered his right and brought his left forward. Pow - Ka-boom.. .. Tiffany brushed the rocky peak with his fingertips. “No touching the goods,” Casey hissed. “26 inches, sir.” Tiffany was all smiles. “Chest.” “Let’s see, Superman, just how we’re going to do this. Turn to one side?” he inquired sweetly. Casey just looked at Tiffany. “Damn it, cadet, turn! Do as he asks.” Moster was getting impatient. Casey turned. “And expand your chest.” Casey’s giant pecs roiled and blew to their fullest size. Tiffany gently reached around Casey, and by tossing one end of the tape from one hand to the other, he coyly avoiding touching him with all but the tape and his lightly pinching fingers. “68 inches.” “Hmmm. There’s room for growth. Waistline.” Tiffany climbed down from the stool and brought the tape around Casey’s taut abs. Again he managed not to touch him. Even so, Casey felt a slight stirring from his crotch. “32 inches.” “32?? Dammit, Zaftig, what have you been feeding this boy? Chocolate cake? Twinkies?” I’m no boy, thought Casey. And I don’t eat Twinkies. His crotch twitched again. He glanced around the room and saw other crotches twitching as well. 6 or 7 of the men seemed to be sporting half erections, bulging in their khakis. No one said anything. All expressions were deadly serious. It was as if no one noticed, minded or cared that more than a half dozen of these musclemen were now sporting serious wood. “I’m sorry, Sergeant,” said Zaftig. “I haven’t felt it was the time, before tonight, to put Casey under your advanced care and guidance. He wasn’t quite ready, I felt.” “Assuredly. Casey, things are going to be a little different for you after tonight. Quads.” “33 inches, sir.” “Dayumn….” muttered Hension. Then the sound of the back of his head being smacked again. “Ouch!” In back, Karim Abdul watched stonily, not reacting. He, Moster, and Dr. Zaftig were the only men in the room whose flies remained unexpanded. Even Dr. Irving was by now showing a little bulge. “Room for improvement everywhere,” said Moster. He made a note on the clipboard. “Calves?” “28 inches.” “That’s good, anyway. Feet?” “I wear 18 DD shoes,” Casey answered. “Speak when spoken to, Cadet Casey. But thank you. Inseam.” Inseam? “For the uniform.” Oh. Tiffany crouched down and placed the tape just at Casey’s ankle, and brought it up. He paused. “With or without testicles, sir?” he asked. “Without.” Moster was impatient. Tiffany was getting on his nerves, but he wasn’t about to show it. “Sorry, big boy, but you got a couple of low-hangers there. Pardon my fingers?” In a swift move that startled Casey, Tiffany, ignoring Casey’s growing tumescence, gently cupped Casey’s balls in his hand, lifted them and delicately moved them out of the way. “Shucks, dude, they’re pretty heavy,” he smirked. Casey was thoroughly humiliated. He felt like knocking this punk's block off, realizing that if he did he’d probably kill him if he even tried. He said nothing. “42 inches.” “Good. Now Zaftig, leave us alone with Casey. We all want to get to know him better.” Zaftig glanced over at Dr. Irving, who had withdrawn to the far corner of the room to be as far away from Moster as possible. He nodded towards the door. Irving cleared his throat and buttoned his lab coat. Zaftig leaned in and whispered harshly to Moster. “No touching. Leave him be.” Moster nodded. "Sure, of course. We'll be nice." Zaftig and Irving left the lab together. In the corner, the video camera whirred, its red light blinking, unheeded. As soon as they were gone the other 16 men came forward. Slowly they circled Casey, Joe Tiffany, and Sergeant Moster. “That’s all, Private Tiffany. Get back in line.” Moster turned to Casey, paused, and began to speak with great deliberation. “I’m the man in charge here. Going forward, you’ll do what I say. These men have all been through it. It’s your turn now.” The bodybuilders gazed evenly at Casey, who stared back, his head slightly bowed. He had neither seen nor imagined such a landscape of muscle in his life. He was beginning to get intimidated. “The motherfucker’s huge,” murmured Private Lang appreciatively. “Yes, sir.” Casey forced a smile, and he saluted. Moster smiled back, a grim humorless smile. “It would seem that you want to please me. Is that the case, Casey?” “Yes, sir, I do, sir!” “Glad to hear it, son. You have a few more years of hardcore training ahead of you. You have great potential, boy, but you haven’t realized it all yet. Has he, men?” Mutters. We’ll get you down to the gym tomorrow and we’ll all shake it out together. Men, you’re done here tonight. Dismissed. Go to bed. Good night.” Moans of general disappointment. Schumacher and Karim Abdul remained silent. “That’s all men.” A pause. “You too, Tiffany.” “Not just yet,” said Abdul. Moster looked at him, his eyebrow raised. “Corporal?” Abdul turned full to Moster. “Not just yet. I want to see if he can take it.” Moster knew full well what he meant. “Take what, Corporal?” “Get him a singlet,” said Abdul to Lang, who eagerly turned and scampered out of the lab. “You know where to meet us,” he called after him, perhaps unnecessarily. The men could hear Lang’s running footsteps as he hightailed it gleefully down the long hall to the locker room. Moster sighed. “Do we have to go through this? Again?” He remembered that when Alvarez was admitted to the program, Abdul had demanded to meet him in the wrestling ring right off the bat. He looked around. All the men were smiling in anticipation. Casey was baffled. “A singlet? We gonna wrestle?” “Yes, son, we’re going to wrestle,” answered Abdul. “You wrestled before?” Casey remembered his brutal ring training with Ramon Ramon, who never failed to pin him, even though he was only half Casey’s size and weight. “Yes, sir.” “Good.” Abdul turned to go, slipping out of his t-shirt. Casey could see he was wearing a singlet underneath, and was surprised he’d missed it before, considering how tight the t-shirts were. Karim was walking away, going for his belt, when he turned back. “You comin’?” Casey gulped a little. “Yes, sir.” The man who stood before him was fearsome indeed, a dark, mature Arab with blackened, hairy, super dry, super vascular, magnificent superheavyweight muscles. The thick black hair of his chest was like a matted carpet, tinged with grey and curling around the heavy, downward pointing nipples. His python-thick cock unfurled heavily in the singlet crotch, heavy, soft, half-visible behind thin, quivering spandex, pulsing, veined, thrust forward between powerful hips. His waist was impossibly narrow, his abs like 8 anvils, his pecs and biceps bulging with muscle and ridic veins. He spread his legs wide. “Hey, look,” breathed Blankenship, staring. Casey looked down, a little panicky, and saw his own massive cock was now tent-poling his posers. Reinforced or no, the 5 square inches of cloth that still managed to cover his big penis head were straining, the fabric ready to tear to shreds. His veiny blond shaft was completely exposed, pointing straight up and out. Curling thick tendrils of his young blond pubic sprouted generously from the juncture of his penis and his vascular, rocky pubis mound. He colored deeply, squatted slightly, tried in vain to readjust himself, his fingers digging deeply into the side straps, trying to control the pouch, which was nowhere near equal to covering Casey's looming erection. Suddenly Casey's penis head ripped through the black cloth, an alien bursting out of a stomach. Casey looked up, utterly distressed. “Don’t worry about it, Casey,” said Moster quietly. The men turned and looked back, and for the first time, got a glimpse of Casey’s humongous penis, half exposed, throbbing behind his expanding posers, which was tearing slightly, ballooning away from his hips. Blond, thick-skinned, massive, covered with luscious veins. “I’d call that a suckable fuck machine of the 1st order,” said Blankenship. He licked his lips a little. Casey looked humiliated. “I asked you a question,” said Abdul. “Are you coming?” And Casey came. “He seems to be,” said Alvarez drily. Just a little precum, appearing at the tip of the piss slit, dribbling down the corona onto his erect shaft. But it was enough. His face turned beet red. He looked up, his eyes hopeful. "Okay?" he finally asked. The men nodded in satisfaction. Abdul ignored it. “Then let’s go, asswipe.” He turned and walked out of the room, headed for the wrestling ring in the next wing. The musclemen followed, each one turning slowly and massively, heading for the door. “Let’s go, Casey,” said Moster wearily. He threw him a towel. “Here, cover up if you’re embarrassed.” “Thank you, sir,” said Casey meekly. “Though with a machine like that you should be proud, not embarrassed. Tiffany!” Moster called out. “Get Dr. Irving back in here and tell him to move that camera down to the wrestling ring.” He smiled grimly. “I have a feeling Abdul may be a little surprised.” __________________________________________ Want to read "The Twenty" from the start? Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland  "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1 "The Twenty" - Chapter 23 - Field Trips, Part 2 – Casey Rediscovers Muscle Worship, and Makes a New Friend "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 24 - Further Encounters 5: Sam and Casey Again, and Moster and the Cadets

The Prelude to this story may be found HERE The preceding chapter of this story may be found HERE * * * PREFACE The initial part of this chapter is unusually violent, at least implicitly so. Sensitive readers be warned. This segment of the story is crucial to the narrative structure. The author do not defend rape or domestic abuse. My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter Ten 'Hanced now. BIG. His titanic presence had left the ModPod, anabolic power still surging through his muscle fibres, flowing through his veins. Had watched himself in a mirror and almost cummed. His big hand caressed his vein-covered incomprehensibly big muscles. Entered the suite he shared with Sir ... Shared with the little cunt. The old runt waited for him with an expectant smile and eager gaze. "Look at you! Look at you! I will assiduously engage in adulatory blandishment in the most sesquipedalian of manners. I’m overwhelmed!” He was BIG now. HE was Sir now, and the little cunt deserved a ride on his manhood. No greeting. No pleasantries. Straight to the essentials: "Kneel." His voice sounded like the sound of a sub-woofer now. He took his terrycloth gown off and threw it away, revealing his vein-covered massive presence. YEAH: VEIN-COVERED MASSIVE PRESENCE. He stood there, imposing, with his brutal and obscenely bulging thighs wide apart in an assertive stance, and watched the little cunt obey him. Yeah! His dominant Alpha-ness had manifested and asserted itself, forcing the obedience of lesser men ... The little silver-haired fragile old runt between his legs, fumbling, struggling to swallow his manhood and failing, because of the girth of his telescopic man-cannon ... His dick throbbing ... His entire body throbbing, because of the aftermath of the 'Hancing-process ... The scent of Alpha musk in the room ... the scent of pre-cum ... His anger rising, because the cunt wasn't able to give head ... lifting the runt effortlessly, the runt moaning because of his display of strength and superhuman POWER ... Ripping the trousers off the runt – no time for pleasantries and romance and titillation and other tosh, because his will was focused on the goal of immediate and total RELEASE ... so the old wanker had to excuse, because Brad Maxxx wanted maximum release, and Brad Maxxx was a Bad Boy Alpha ... the old cunt had even payed for Brad Maxxx to become a Bad Boy Alpha, and he would get it ... Yeah, he would get it all ... The old cunt screamed when Brad entered, and screamed when Brad adjusted the position of the toff on Brad's man-pole, like a piece of pork on a skewer ... Look! No hands! Even his dick was insanely strong and muscular now, carrying the weight of a baseline man on its own, though admittedly a tiny and insignificant baseline man ... When Brad began to throb (and throb harder, throb more intensely) the cunt screamed again, but it didn't matter, because Brad was in charge, and Brad was the dominant Alpha, and Brad was BIG now, and Brad's man-meat was like a homing missile now, with the target set on total release, and the old cunt asked for it ... Yeah: Sir would have what he wished for ... Here it was: An 8 foot veiny Hulk-like behemoth with a dominant Bad Boy Alpha mindset, just as ordered, and this dominant Bad Body Alpha throbbed very hard now, throbbed very intensely now, and felt his Hulk-like POWER circulate in his veins and all his muscle fibres, because he was ... Uh! He was ... YES! SOON! ... throbbing Alpha ... HE WAS THE STRONGEST MAN IN THE WORLD!!!!!!!! * * * When he woke up Sir wasn't there. At first, it didn't alarm him. The bathroom perhaps. They could both need to use the bathroom. Then he felt hungry. Without waiting for the frail toff, Brad lifted the phone and ordered a 'hancer-sized breakfast, and return to doze. He woke up again and watched the news. Something about King George VII meeting Joseph I, King of Scots, and then something about wood-based plastics. He switched the screen off. Room service. Breakfast. So hungry after his final 'hancing. No sign of Sir. Then a knock. He didn't bother to dress. Naked in all his ultra-masculine glory he opened the door and received three envelopes. Strange. A document, largely written in incomprehensible legalese. "... on behalf of our client, Dr. Oxford-Cambridge ... not press charges, unless the individual known as Mr. Maxxx refuse to sign the non-disclosure document ..." What the fukk? A hand-written letter: "I'm sorry Brad. I'm sorry for what you did to me, and what I did to you. It wasn't a good idea after all, only an ill-advised attempt to turn a daydream real. Do you even remember, that you raped me? My lawyer tells me, that I would be prosecuted according to the Illegal Enhancing Act, enacted by the Canterbury Parliament, if I pressed charges against you. What do you say about parting of our ways, and leaving each other alone? I have arranged for a return ticket to any destination in the world, if you ask for it in the waiting area – aeroplane or zepp, whichever you prefer. Let my lawyer know where to send your remaining belongings. Some days it was fun, wasn't it? Yours sincerely Hulk-daddy" A message from the lobby: "Dear Mr. Maxxx, Until told otherwise, you will remain in your suite. A nurse will ensure, that you don't suffer any adverse medical effects of last day's 'hancing. The company is aware of last night's events, and Dr. Oxford-Cambridge has been brought to hospital. An enhanced guard will be stationed outside your door, until the legal position of the situation has been clarified. Dr. Korsakoff" Confusion. Contradictory feelings. Legal position? Rape? He wasn't a bad person ... He didn't ... The dawning comprehension ... The rising guilt ... The other feeling rising: No one tells this fukking awesome Alpha Bad Boy what to do ... Was it himself, or was it the mind-implant Sir wanted installed inside his mind? No money from his Hulk-daddy anymore? The following days were a haze, and afterwards he didn't remember them particularly well. No adverse medical effects. No sight of Sir. No opportunity to apologise or say farewell. Ticket to New Vancouver. Trouble to enter the Federation of Cascadia without a passport and a smartwatch, until the border authority took his fingerprints. Told him he was Maximilian Brzęczyszczykiewicz. Didn't feel right. Didn't remember any Maximilian Brzęczyszczykiewicz. He was Brad Maxxx, the strongest man in the world. The days. The weeks. The months. A journalist seeking him. Refusing the journalist. Non-disclosure document. No flat. No phone. No watch. No one paying for his a-Gram account anymore. Sleeping rough. A rush or two when other Bad Boys picked a fight and he won. The pain and the hunger. Shelters were not dimensioned to feed 'Hancers who didn't feed their muscles properly. Guilt. Denied admission to his usual shelter after a fight with a 'hanced veteran. Dark night. Rain. Soaked. End his life? Nothing mattered. Pain and hunger. Guilt. Dark. Soaked. Dark. A kid on a bench watching a vintage commercial. A platinum blond 'hanced giant with an aesthetic physique wearing a He-Man costume shouting: "I have the power!" A fragment of a forgotten memory stirring. Hot 'hancer-guy. Seen him before. * * * A pleasant male voice answering: "Nelson." "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. It must be in the middle of the night where you are, too, but I don't know who to call. My name is Brad Maxxx. 'Hancing has made a mess of my life. You are so darned impressive, and I don't know if anyone else can help me." He let out a sob. * * * Next chapter may be found HERE

The Prelude is found HERE The preceding chapter is found HERE My Hulk-daddy is Paying Chapter Eight After checking in at the ’Hancing company’s guest-facilities and taking showers, following the company's standard procedure, they had entered the same cinema or movie theatre as last time, but this time, Brad knew what to expect. The company was located in one of those new, growing coastal cities of the Siberian Federation. The Arctic Sea was the hotspot of trade and new opportunities, and it wasn't a coincidence, that the Siberian Federation was known as "Asia's Breadbasket". There was a joke about all combine harvesters – horse-driven or hydrogen-cell driven – to be produced in Siberia. Brad had shivered in excitement. His dreams would come true. * * * The first time they had gone there, Brad had noticed a lot of hot guys: Some of them probably working at oil rigs or gas extraction companies, some of them with the outward demeanour of soccer hooligans. He hadn't expected Siberians to look that hot. The second time he was less surprised. The company was seemingly wealthy, and didn't attempt to hide it. It surrounded its customers with opulence and comfort. While Sir had taken care of the paperwork, Brad had glanced at one of the big screens in the lobby: Something about a conflict between the Third French Empire and the Nigerian Realm over the Solar Power Fields in the Protectorates of South Algeria and Mali. The faces of Napoleon VII and President Dangote briefly flashed on the screen, and then there was something about the United Kingdom of Wessex, East Anglia and Midlands leaving the Geneva Convention in order to ”take back control”, but Brad's attention wandered to the other screens depicting 'Hanced men. Soon. Soon he would look like one of them. He could feel his manhood grow inside his Adidas bottoms. The word ”big” floated through his brain. * * * The first time they went there, the information had overwhelmed them. The first time, Sir wanted him to rejuvenate. Though Brad had found the request strange, he allowed Sir’s wish come true, and he didn’t regret it: His baby face didn’t look mature the way he would have wished himself, but his horniness had reverted to the intense level he had experienced when he was eighteen or nineteen – No: turned up into something even more intense, than when he was eighteen or nineteen. This time, he was Sir’s horny st00pid jockboi. Even more intense. He remembered the scientist they had met last time, Korsakoff, talking about his ultimate goal and Sir’s ultimate goal yet beyond reach, which caused disappointment for a few seconds, until Dr. Korsakoff explained: In order to reach that goal, Brad had to undergo the process in two separate steps. An ordinary man wouldn’t be able to handle the extreme dosages and power levels involved in reaching his ultimate goal, so before taking that step, he needed to become more than an ordinary man. * * * Shivering, with naked feet, and only wearing a short-sleeved compression shirt and a pair of posing trunks, Brad stepped inside the glass cylinder. Dr. Korsakoff closed the door behind him. Now, Brad was alone inside the cylinder, isolated from the rest of humanity. Alone with the hancing process. Alone with his desire. Alone with his urge. ”Big.” The word ”big” floated through his brain, loaded with a significance a baseline man wouldn’t understand, at least not a baseline man outside the ’hancer scene. Loaded with significance: His aim, his goal, his purpose, his burning desire and his deep-seated urge. ”Big.” And then his contradictory feelings returned. ”No!” Not the contradictory feelings! Not the awkwardness he had tried to escape! Not now! He felt warm. Sweat trickled everywhere, because of the injection Dr. Korsakoff had given him more than an hour ago. His body reacted, but his mind was trying to steal his moment of triumph. Not the contradictory feelings! Blurry memory … Only fragments before his first ’hancing. Nice blokes Bob and Vitaly, who ’hanced him for free, and delivered him to Sir. ’Hanced him for free … allowing him to flee his past. His past with the contradictory feelings … He didn’t want to remember how baseline he had been, how weak. That baseline pipsqueak wasn’t him. He was a ’hancer now. He was Sir’s baby-faced jockboi now. He had been ’hanced. He was bigger than most men. ”Big.” He shivered in delight. There was a hissing sound in his breathing-mask, and there was another hissing sound inside the glass cylinder. Dr. Korsakoff had tried to explain all the fancy scientific details, but the details didn’t matter. What mattered was, that he was becoming big. ”Big.” But the feeling of an icy lump in his gut didn’t go away. Weak in the past. Fleeing the past. Fleeing more recent shame. Had to repay Sir. Sir paying for his ’hancing. Sir paying for his food and supplements. Sir’s ’hancer-sized gym. Repaying … Sir’s pitiful asparagus-dick creaming Brad’s buttcheeks … Sir not man enough to reach to Brad’s hole, even less enter it, which was just as well, because deep inside Brad didn’t want Sir to … didn’t want Sir to use him … felt pity for the little Sir … so tiny … so old … not bold enough to ever take up a gym habit himself, not bold enough to try ’hancing himself, only daring to watch a substitute … watch Brad … ogle Brad … Anger awakening … Sir using him and ogling him … Anger swallowing shame … Anger and disdain welling up … Disdain for the weak little pathetic toff, who hadn’t it in him … Not like Brad. Not the courage to take the leap. Not the discipline to pump iron. Not the true urge. Not the true urge of a ’hancer. Not the true urge of a ’hancer like Brad. Brad big now. ”Big.” The humming sound was switched on … increasing in intensity … the sound he was familiar with now, after two ’hancing procedures … humming sound of ’hancing equipment, that would soon … ”Uh!” Oh, yes! The build-up now … Brad swallowed. The build-up now, accompanying the humming sound … He knew what to expect, but he knew that he wouldn’t know what to expect, when the next phase would start soon … The pleasure, when increasing discharges of Hypertrophic energy began to bombard him … bombard his body … bombard his muscles … energize his flesh … The pleasure and the anger and the disdain … Leaving the past beyond … Leaving embarrassing memories of his own weak and feeble past beyond … Leaving the shame beyond … leaving all awkwardness beyond … Become a 100% strength-obsessed mountain of enhanced steel-hard brawn who never suffered from any lack of confidence, and only lived for the pump, only lived for his own pleasure and progress and didn’t have to bother with everyday worries, because his Hulk-daddy was paying … ”Big!” The all-pervading word ”Big”, loaded with a significance a baseline man wouldn’t understand, at least not a baseline man outside the ’hancer scene. Loaded with significance: His aim, his goal, his purpose, his burning desire and his deep-seated urge. To become BIG. Happening now. At last. Finally! Becoming BIG. Yes! Happening! His body! The growth! Happening! Now! Becoming BIG! And the other all-pervading word. The word ”Becoming”. Uh! Yes! He inhaled eagerly. The inhalation gas. The nano-bots he needed. The myostatin-inhibitors he needed. The DNA-alteration circulating within his system now, with no turning back … the irrevocable transformation … who would want to revoke it? Not Brad. Becoming. Yes! The other all-pervading word … ”Becoming!” The warm, inviting sea existing where consciousness meet unconscious sleep reached out for him, and his consciousness tumbled, tumbled, as he had been told to expect, into the depth of visions, memories, sleepiness, when the analgesic formula removed any pain from his skeletal growth … The strange scraping sound of of bone growing faster than it is meant to. A weird sensation of becoming … Taller … Wider … Almost asleep, but only almost, because he could feel himself becoming … Taller … Wider … Memories floating. Memories arising. The commercial before … The film about the available options … The men on the screen moving, smiling at the audience, and a narrator describing the options: ”Each customer want to realise his own unique goal. We are glad to offer our customers a wide range of options, and each option is available with additional features and modifications. We offer you DREAMBOAT – an option highly popular among our customers’ wives, girlfriends or boyfriends, and an option, that will not interfere with duty and interaction at work.” Brad had smirked when he had watched the men filmed to exemplify what the DREAMBOAT option included. He already was well beyond the physical shape of the winking and smiling fitness models (with their stylish hairdos) going under the DREAMBOAT label. He was already well beyond their level … bigger than them … Uh! yes! Bigger! Blood rushed to his dick, at the realisation of his own physical superiority to these ’hanced men. This was not the option he wanted to go for, and he had felt relief, when Sir didn’t gave any sign of going for a lesser option. Uh! ”Big!” The narrator had continued his speech: ”The second option was initially designed to help the discerning VIP enhance his bodyguards or bouncers to a suitable level of operative efficiency, but it has since become the option of choice for any customer who aim at a masculine physique that will be outstanding both at work and at leisure. It also come with loyalty implants for those VIP’s who want to ensure, that their men are unfailingly trustworthy. If this is your option of choice, ask for BOUNCER.” The men on the screen had moved confidently, some of them wearing expensive suits struggling to contain the bulging physiques inside. Another bulge at chest-height told about the handguns hidden inside the jackets. Still no sign of Sir going for this option. Yes! Although a tough-looking option, Brad had wished for something more than this. Something more. Something bigger. Something more … extreme. Another scene on the screen, another persuasive description: ”If from news or if from real-life encounters, the presence of hyper-marines among us changed which ideals men would deem possible, for others or for themselves. The male physique beyond former limits is now available for civilian customers. For the man with a sense of duty or for the Bad Boy out there, go for the option PATRIOT. It is also a mandatory preparation phase for any of our remaining options.” The swag was overwhelming, stunning. The men on the screen were all sporting military-inspired haircuts, and none of them was shorter than 6’4’’, most of them taller than 6’8’’. The sight of their necks and traps had mesmerised Brad the first time he had watched the commercial, and the allure of the men’s confident gazes enchanted him. Quite a few of them were wearing the clothes usually associated with the Bad Boy sub-culture, within which ’hancing had become extremely popular. At their first visit in Siberia, Dr. Korsakoff hadn’t allowed Brad to go any further, because the dangers surrounding the remaining options, so, last time, Brad had reached the option PATRIOT with the additional rejuvenation Sir had demanded. Sound of bone. Taller. Wider. His baby-faced PATRIOT physique. Becoming taller, wider. Hissing gas. Breathing. Inhaling the gas for internal use. Surrounded by the gas for external use. Taller. Wider. The all-pervading word: ”Becoming!” He returned to consciousness. Returned to the delicious awareness of his 7 feet body, to the exciting awareness of his still growing 7 feet body inside the glass cylinder, to the sound of raw meet stuffed into a leather sofa, which was the sound of his own swiftly increasing MUSCLE MASS. Returning to the all-pervading and voluptious feeling of …. Of … … BECOMING! With another hissing sound and with a squabbling sound, the exterior gas was now gradually replaced by the solution, Dr. Korsakoff had mentioned. The solution of anabolic salts. Brad felt movement. The cylinder moved from a standing position to a reclining position, and it was adjusted, lowered, into the structure Dr. Korsakoff had called a ”ModPod”. Brad continued to inhale the gas, while his pleasantly convulsing body became submerged in the solution of anabolic salts. Warm green luminous liquid through which bolts of hypertrophic energy bombarded his defenceless body. Bombarded! Yes! Charging him! Charging him with the energy to grow! Charging his ever-growing, yes even more growing, strength. His … Uh! Primed for the … Primed for the dangerous phases beyond … The dangerous phases not every ’hancer dare to explore. The dangerous phases of BECOMING only available to those men who has overcome their fear – the men, inside which the true, deep insatiable urge to BECOME BIG was burning. The one-pointed urge … To BECOME BIG … The phases beyond … His body began to shiver pleasantly, and a buzzing sound was building. He was eager now. Eager to embrace whatever the buzzing sound meant. The build-up. Primed. Beyond. And then it exploded. His mind exploded in ecstatic pleasure, wrath, embodiment, masculinity. His body … It felt like his body was hit, but not in a bad way … so hard to think now … He … The anabolic power streaming into him and the hypertrophic energy crackling … His bulgingly muscular body becoming harder, even harder, and growing in all directions as he became wider, taller, beyond comprehension. Hulking out of the struggling compression shirt … which was the purpose for the shirt to begin with … The sheer strength … His man-rod obscenely stretching his poser to the utmost, happily throbbing as all his muscles were throbbing by incomprehendible energy and power. Expanding. Evolving. Growing. Throbbing. His body. His entire body. Growing into an ecstatic state overwhelming his mind. Overwhelming. Overwhelming. The commercial had called the next step SUPER POWER, and the men on the screen had looked like real-life superheroes. Sir had moaned at the sight of these men, and the narrator had gone on and one about ”emulating one’s heroes”, but it was when Brad had watched the last and remaining option, he had known … Uh! Yes, it was when he had watched the imposing, unfathomable mountains of sheer muscle mass in the next option, he had known … that he craved the option known as ”MEGAMASS XTREME 3000” At last! Now! Undergoing MEGAMASS XTREME 3000! Watched the goal towards which his deep-seated urges and desires were directed. Leaving the past beyond … Leaving embarrassing memories of his own weak and feeble past beyond … Leaving the shame beyond … leaving all awkwardness beyond … Become a 100% strength-obsessed mountain of enhanced steel-hard brawn who never suffered from any lack of confidence, and only lived for the pump, only lived for his own pleasure and progress and didn’t have to bother with everyday worries. Nothing mattered now. Only growth mattered. ONLY GROWTH MATTERED! Yes! The meat-slabs, that were his pecs now, his chest the chest of a superhero or supervillain. Meat-slabs. His palm rubbing his rockhard baseball-abs. His palm clenching his unyielding steel-hard bowling-ball bicepses … His bull-neck … FUCK! YES! EXTREME! Even more! His 8 feet body! His fukking 8 feet body! He wouldn’t know what to expect. He had entered the unknown. Alone inside the cylinder, isolated from the rest of humanity. Alone with the hancing process. Alone with his desire. Alone with his urge. Beyond humanity. Superior. Overwhelming. ”Big.” Becoming. He remembered, when he and Sir had both agreed, that Brad would undergo MEGAMASS XTREME 3000! At last! Now! Undergoing MEGAMASS XTREME 3000! Mind! Body! Exploding! Superior! Veins crawling all over him. Cock throbbing. Mind throbbing. Muscles throbbing. His entire body throbbing. Uncontrollable, limitless, energising, empowering … BECOMING! POWER-BRAWN The rushing sound of his pulse in his ears and the feeling of his pulse in his neck. He was an expanding titan. For a moment, fear had him in his grip, because the transformation was uncontrollable, but he didn’t want to control it anymore. He wanted his wrath and his pleasure, his strength and his masculinity to manifest as flesh: Convulsing, throbbing, growing flesh, through which invigouring power let his inner muscle-beast out: Yeah, the muscle-beast. The smug, confident, undefeatable, virile, power-buzzing muscle-beast, which had lurked inside him for so long. He relished in his steel-bending and rock-crushing strength, and the struggling poser snapped. Entirely naked, his vein-covered monstrosity of a body floated and bobbed inside the ModPod and was a living conductor of hypertrophic energy and anabolic power. He was a living battery, charged with the power current of thousands power houses, and he was a power house himself. The power of vitality itself filled him limitlessly. Nuclear bombs exploded in his mind, when the uncontrollable power transformed into the monster-bruiser he had dreamed about. An ineffable powerblaze stormed in his every fibre. He brimmed of unlimited and unconquerable might. He was strength. He was power. He was virility. He was brawn, he was muscle. He was pure masculinity manifest as unyielding flesh. He was now … BECOMING He was now … MEGAMASS XTREME He was now PERFECTION BEYOND ALL … Mindless muscle-frenzied ecstacy enrapted him, because he was BECOMING PERFECTION BEYOND ALL LIMITS!!!!!!!! * * * Next chapter may be found HERE

Tales From A Muscle Growth Cartel Part 1 - Sometimes Drugs Give You More than a High Jack was a drug kingpin of sorts. Like any potent drug, people craved it, they came to him, offered him their life’s treasures and he gave them their fix. In a world where usually only the strongest survive and only the smartest staid on top, he was doing quite well for himself and living an easy life. That was because in Jack’s case there were no rival drug lords because what he had to offer nobody else could give. His drug came from within. Jack had a special ability that no one could explain. You see, he found from an early age that his cum had an odd effect on people. When he fucked someone or they sucked him off, their bodies would change. When he was only fifteen he and his best friend started screwing around and before they were done, Charlie was bigger than the captain of the football team with a dick that looked like it came from a donkey instead of a person. That’s when he learned that the more cum someone consumed, the more they would change. Which brings us to the second unique thing about Jack. He knew from the first time he had ever jerked off that there was no limit to the amount he could cum. The more he jerked, the more his cock and balls grew to keep up. Of course there were times when he lost control, leading to his room having to be renovated several times before he left home. Then after he was done, over the course of several hours, his nuts would slowly shrink back to their usual fist size. At an early age, Jack used his “gifts” on his friends. This caused him to have so many friends that his high school dominated almost every men’s sport they competed in while he was there. Then he noticed a strange thing. About a month after fucking his friends into a new body they started to lose their muscles and no amount of weight lifting could maintain what they had. Eventually after a year they would end up skinnier than they were before with a smaller dick. Jack would fuck them all again and their killer bods would be restored but they never lasted as long the second time and the third time was even worse. Soon every jock in his high school was addicted to his cock which is when he realized the potential for a business opportunity. After he graduated he moved to LA where he found many who were desperate for his services. There were so many aspiring models and actors that needed an edge. When they couldn’t pay he would have them do favors for him that were worth even more. All of his body guards were simply guys willing to give up their lives for a continuous supply of his cum. Which was convenient because while his talents left him with a muscular frame, sometimes the demand for his juices left his balls so huge he couldn’t walk so they had to carry him. He built a reputation for rarely leaving his mansion in the hills and never wearing clothes. Which brings us to an early afternoon in the spring. He was sitting on his couch, his bowling ball sized nuts were sitting on the cushions, resting from a busy morning and his 12’’ soft dick was splayed over his thigh. He was watching the news and eating lunch when one of his body guards walked into the room. Chad was nearly seven feet tall. His massive package was hardly covered by the speedo Jack made all of his people wear. “That guy from last night is back. Pretty sure he’s just as broke as he was. You want us to beat the crap out of him?” “Who, Kyle? No, I figured he’d be back,” Jack answered. “I have a job lined up for him. Let him in.” Kyle was dressed in a white polo with khaki’s. He looked more at home on a golf course than a drug din. About five years ago he had decided to skip all of the hard work and take the ultimate short cut for the perfect bod. The cum infusions had become so frequent lately that even though he had a great job at a software company, he had blown through his savings and his girlfriend was starting to notice things going missing. His biceps bulged against the sleeves of his polo, but not like they had last week. But pay day wasn’t until next week and the bank refused to give him more loans because he was so deeply in debt. Not to mention all of the money he owed Jack. He walked in the room looking nervous and immediately had an uncontrollable hard on. The smell of that sweet cum that he wanted so badly was hanging in the room. “Kyle, have a seat,” he said affably enough. “So I was thinking, you know that if you just hook me up this one time I’ll pay you double for it next week,” the visitor said darting his eyes from side to side, nervously. “Now Kyle,” the practiced speech that he had said to so many began, “I don’t run a charity. You want something of mine, you have to pay for it.” “Yeah, Jack, I will. I just need the stuff now and when I get the…” “You already owe me thirty grand, you gonna make it forty?” Then his voice became softer. “No, no Kyle. I need something that’s worth more than a promise. Did you have time to think about my little job offer I gave you last night?” “Look, I have a job and girlfriend, I can’t just whore myself out for you.” “Please, man, spare me the girlfriend line. You guys always want the perfect bod so you can screw around. Don’t pretend that you want to look like that to be loyal.” He laughed. “Besides, you’re gonna have a pretty hard time convincing the guy that you’re begging for a fuck from that sex is something special that you save for your sweet heart.” “But that’s different…” “Ha! Sure it is. How long you think that relationship’s gonna last when she realizes the money is all gone and that perfect body shrivels up. You’ve got about two weeks tops before you look like a smack addict.” He laughed in his face. “Look, I don’t like to cut people off. So work for me and get all you want for free.” “All I want?” His hands and lips started to tremble. The thought made him go hard instantly. “Did I stutter?” “I mean I…” Kyle murmured something incoherently and Jack started to play with his cock. Precum started to ooze down the semi-hard shaft filling the room with even more of that oh so potent cum musk. “You know what you want. Fuck the chick, she can’t give you this. Crawl over and have a taste.” When Jack said crawl he meant it and Kyle knew the only way to get a free taste was to humor him. So got on his hands and knees and moved over to the couch where he began to lick the sweet jizz. “Fuuuuuck,” Kyle groaned as his muscles began to tingle. The growth was always accompanied by the most intense pleasure of his life. “Fuck yes, I’ll do it.” He said trying to suck down as much jizz as he could. “Not so fast.” Jack reached over Kyle and pulled his phone out. “Call the chick and tell her you’ve found someone else. I don’t want her wondering where you are and calling the cops.” “But my…” Jack shoved his face against the jizz fountain as he whimpered his protests. “Fine, fuck, I’ll do it,” he cut in. So after five minutes of listening to the most pathetic conversation he had ever heard Jack signaled him to hang up. Kyle was visibly shaken by what he had just done but a cum load to the face made him snap out of his stupor. “Come get breakfast,” Jack taunted. Kyle launched himself at the dick sucking away. Jack was jizzing like a faucet and with each gulp Kyle could feel his bi’s, tri’s, pecs, and delts swelling. “Mmmm fuck yeah,” he moaned, the growth made him forget about what he’d just done. He savored every drop as his shirt began to fit him like it did last week, so tight. He was waiting for Jack to pull out like he always did but it didn’t happen. He even looked up at him expecting to be told he’d had enough but Jack was just groaning with his eyes closed. Suddenly Kyle felt his shirt give way. He heard a loud rip as his pecs burst out of his polo. His cock emerged from his waistline as his ass and thighs began to shred his shorts. His balls sank down like grape fruits and touched the floor. He was becoming freakishly huge but still he didn’t stop. He wanted more, he couldn’t think straight anymore. His cock grew thicker than his wrist and began to drool cum all over the floor while each of his pecs swelled larger than his entire chest was before he came in. His nipples were continuously pushed further down by his expanding chest. His eight pack abs looked like swelling boulders. Meanwhile Jack’s balls had expanded into beach ball sized nuts to keep pace with all of the cum as they churned out more and more seed to fuel Kyle’s transformation. Kyle’s mind slowly gave way to the pleasure. All he could think of was fucking and sucking as he was dumbed down. His cock grew fatter than a normal person’s arm as it grew between his gigantic pecs and began to splash jizz into his own face. Still he continued to bore down on that cock, not caring about the freak he was becoming. Jack’s balls grew so large one of them fell off the couch with a tremendous thud. Each one weighed over one hundred pounds. Kyle felt hands grab him from behind and pull him backwards. He struggled to reach the cock again but there were four of them and he was delirious from the cum. They shoved his face into his own cock massive head which was already at mouth level. He instinctively started sucking that instead and he was dragged down a hallway into a bedroom. His volleyball sized nuts trailed along the floor. They hoisted him up and placed him on the bed but he was so engrossed in stroking his massive cock and sucking himself that he barely noticed what was going on. He was impossibly huge he was almost 7 ½ feet. His 800-pound frame sank into the sturdy mattress. His arms were so large that he could barely reach his cock. Jack could be heard in the other room talking with his muscular attendants. “No, he’s not done yet. The client wants them bigger.” The body guards arrived again and this time they were carrying Jack’s huge nutsack. Each massive ball was being toted by one of massive men. “Spread him!” Two body guards spread Kyle’s legs and Jack forced his way into the tight hole. A hydrant of cum poured into him and he groaned in uncontrollable pleasure. Kyles were bulging uncontrollably, striving against each other for space. His arms became so beefy it became harder to move them. Suddenly he couldn’t reach his cock anymore. As Jack pounded away, Kyle became more and more of an immobile sculpture. When he could no longer do more than wiggle, Jack pulled out. Kyle was laying there helplessly, his fat cock was drooling all over his face. “Ughh—you said all cum I want! Want more!” “And so I did. I just never said it would all be mine. I have a few clients who are willing to pay more money than you’ve ever made to use your body as a jungle gym. Have fun.” Jack laughed as they carried him out. In the world of instant gratification Jack was like a casino. He provided thrills, a rush, and temporary gains you could never achieve on your own but in the end, the house always won.

(My apologies to everyone looking for muscle growth . . . I'm just really into romance this holiday season) There are a couple of basketball courts in a small park across from St. Monica Church in Santa Monica, California. The place is usually a sure thing if you’re looking to be part of a pick-up basketball game on any given evening of the week. I live a few blocks away and I’ve dabbled in hoops all of my life. I can hold my own with any of the players that come there for some fun. I also like it because the small beach community of Southern California almost always guarantees some hot eye-candy on the teams or in the crowd doing other stuff in the park. I’m never opposed to checking out the merchandise even if I’m not planning on purchasing anything. I’m a fit, thirty-two-year-old, bearded, tall jock. I know I turn heads, but I also know I’m not super-model material. I’m just an average bloke, who likes basketball, outdoors, and checking out hot asses. I’m not into labels, so I don’t use them – for myself or other people. I tend to not overshare in situations, but I’m also not some tightly wound psychopath, either. That sounded a lot like a label, didn’t it? Bottom line – I’m just a normal guy, whatever normal means, right? Some people freak out when I tell them I’m gay. Not sure why, they just do. I don’t go around blaring the fact with a megaphone, but this important information has become very useful when I’ve helped one of my elderly neighbors with a task and they want to set me up with their ‘gorgeous’ single daughter or niece. I usually unveil my preference with a simple, ‘I’m sorry, I like boys,” which usually confuses the hell out of said neighbor who’s trying to fix me up. I’m also not very good with the gaydar or the entire business of flirting. A friend once told me I’d be too clueless to know if a guy ran me over with a truck to get a date – and she was probably right. I just tend to miss the subtle signs – a glance, a smile, someone grabbing my crotch. Okay, it’s not that bad . . . but I am pretty clueless when it comes to someone coming on to me. This evening of basketball was ripe with eye candy. It seemed like our court had become the United Nations of hot men . . . and women, by the way . . . who were out for a great game. I was holding my own as lead scorer for my team when Selena, a cute girl who’d become a friend, pulled me aside during a water break. “Don’t look now, dude, but the daddy stud at the playground is cruising you.” “What?” I asked, breaking the cardinal rule and immediately looking in the direction she referred to. “Okay, Mr. Obvious, deduction of points for the party foul,” Selena said, laughing at me. “Which one . . . I see a lot of daddy studs,” I replied, not even catching on to the fact that I shouldn’t look. “The biggest one,” she replied. “You mean the bodybuilder with legs as big as silos?” “Silos?” Selena said with a weird look on her face, “Oh yeah, I always forget you were a farm boy. Who else would call legs silos? Yeah, he’s been checking you out the entire game.” “You’re hallucinating. Did you have some of those special brownies you make before you came to play?” I teased. “No! But they do sound good right now. Every time you get the ball, he turns to watch the game. If he were a cartoon character his tongue would be hanging out to the ground. He is staring at you right now.” Again, I looked and, sure enough, the dark-haired man who was the size of a truck was looking in my direction. When our eyes met, he smiled and tilted his head back quickly, in a way that made my toes curl and my heart beat faster. I immediately glanced down at the ground. God, I was so bad at flirting. Instantly, I assumed I had been mistaken about the guy’s actions and I looked back up. He was still looking and still smiling. I turned to see that Selena was watching Mr. Beefcake, too. It must be her he’s looking at, I assumed. “I think he might be on your team, Selena,” I said. “I think he’s flirting with you.” “You have the worst gaydar on the planet,” Selena shot back. “That man is Liberace with muscles!” That’s when we were called back to the game. Selena walked away and I glanced back at the behemoth at the playground. His gaze was still on me. It didn’t follow Selena. Again, the guy smiled and nodded his head – as if he were confirming that it was me, he was looking at. I blushed – returned a half smile, while awkwardly jerking my head to acknowledge his presence. This made his smile grow. I turned back to the game. When someone points out the elephant in the room – or the guy as big as an elephant – you can no longer ignore it . . . or stop thinking about it . . . or stop stealing glances at it. To say my game went downhill after the break would be an understatement. It was like someone had replaced the previous talented player with a non-athletic stick figure who tripped over his own feet. My team ended up losing by many points and it was definitely because I had lost my groove. I had become too obsessed with how I might look to Mr. Muscles and got distracted every time I looked over to see him smiling at me. “I think from now on I’ll wait until the end of the game before I mention anyone flirting with you,” Selena said as we said goodbye. “I think that would be best,” I replied and gave her a hug. “Message me later to tell me what he feels like. He’s so my type. I love muscles,” she said as she walked away. I glanced back to the swing set and noticed the big man was no longer there. He was no longer pushing his kid lightly on the swing. I did a sweep of the playground and didn’t see him – and the guy was so big that you would not have missed him. I couldn’t believe I had not had the chance to talk to him. I kicked myself for not speaking to him sooner. I sat on a bench and started tossing my things into my bag – bummed about missed opportunities. “I’m sorry I made you lose the game,” came a deep voice from behind me. I turned around quickly to see the handsome bodybuilder standing on the other side of a fence that divided the entrance to the playground and the courts. It was probably to keep kids from getting in the way of the game and, more likely, to keep players away from the playground. I stood up, staring open-mouthed. The guy was so much bigger than I thought, now that he was a little closer. “Um . . . no, you didn’t. I just . . . kind of . . . lost my concentration,” I quickly replied. “Because of me,” he added. “Yes . . . because of you,” I conceded, smiling. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, smiling too. “You should. I don’t like to lose,” I answered back. “You seldom lose,” he said, awkwardly. “How do you know that?” I asked. “I’ve watched you play a lot . . . I hope that doesn’t sound creepy.” “Um . . . no, it’s actually kind of flattering,” I said. “Funny, tonight’s the first time I ever noticed you . . . sorry . . . I mean, you’re kind of hard to miss.” “And I’ll take that as a compliment,” the big man chuckled. “I usually hang out back there at the picnic tables with the parents. Tonight, I decided to be hopeful and take a chance on catching your eye.” “Oh my god, I forgot about your boy! Where is he?” I quickly asked, looking around. “He’s my nephew and my sister just came to pick him up. That’s why I had to disappear for a few minutes. I hoped you wouldn’t leave before I got back.” “Your nephew . . . I just assumed he was your . . . oh my, I hadn’t even considered there might be a mom or another dad. Wow, that’s crazy. I mean, there still could be someone else . . . I don’t want to assume that there isn’t. I mean you could be married or in a relationship,” I had suddenly started stammering. “I’m not . . . married . . . or in a relationship,” he said, quickly and with more urgency than he probably intended. “Um . . . are you?” “No! No, I’m not,” I shot back, with just as much awkwardness and urgency. “We sound like teenagers. I’m T.J. Henderson. It’s short for Thomas John.” “I’m Awan. In my country it means…” “This moment . . . or this time,” I interrupted. “How could you possibly know that?” Awan asked. “I lived in Pakistan for two years,” I replied, quite pleased with myself. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any hotter,” the large man said, clearly not caring how it sounded. “Why were you in Pakistan?” “Can’t tell you,” I answered. “Or if I did, I’d have to kill you afterwards.” His face shot full of confusion and, possibly, a little fear. I immediately thought about how culturally insensitive I was. This kind of joke might not be funny in his country. I worried that I had already ruined the good thing we had going on. I panicked and quickly tried to fix it. “Sorry, I’m kidding,” I said. “I came up with a new type of irrigation system for desert regions a few years back and I spent time in your country teaching people how to use it. I loved Pakistan. I’ll go back someday. I still have friends, there.” “I knew you were kidding, by the way. I just wanted to make you sweat a little. You’re even hotter when you’re sweating.” I didn’t know what to say. This enormous, dark-skinned, bearded muscleman was calling me hot. I knew, instinctively, that my underwear and shorts were not strong enough to hide my erection, but I didn’t look down or adjust myself – not wanting to draw attention to the fact that Awan caused me to get hard. I smiled, clearly a little embarrassed, and he just waited in silence – forcing me to speak. “What do you do?” I asked. “I’m a professional bodybuilder,” Awan answered. “Clearly a professional,” I said, and he knew it was a compliment. “I’ve never known a bodybuilder.” “Now you do. I’ve never known a basketball player.” “Well, I’m clearly not a professional,” I said, smiling. “You could have fooled me. You look pretty talented,” Awan said. “I’m okay . . . that is, until you smiled at me,” I replied and we both laughed. “Do you play?” “When you get as big as me you kind of have to give up contact sports or sports that could have contact in them. I tend to knock people to the ground when I bump into them,” the big man said. “I can see why. Hey, Awan, it’s starting to feel like you’re visiting me in prison. Do you mind if we either got on the same side of the fence or, even better, went somewhere to get a bite to eat? I’m hungry. That is, if you have time.” “I’d like that a lot and I have all the time in the world,” Awan said. “I’m glad your friend, Selena, was so nice.” “What? What about Selena,” I asked. “Didn’t she tell you? After your game last week, I asked her if you were gay . . . I’m sorry if it offends you, but it’s really hard to tell with you. Anyway, she confirmed what I hoped was true and suggested I stop by again this evening,” Awan answered. “Why that little . . . No, she didn’t tell me. She just said I should check out the guy flirting with me,” I replied. “Wait until I see her.” “Oh wait,” Awan said, laughing, “don’t get me in trouble. I just didn’t want to offend you if you were straight.” “I think even straight men would be flattered if you flirted with them, Awan,” I said, causing him to turn slightly red. We had already started walking towards the end of the fence and the gate where he could leave the playground area. I was caught off guard by just how enormous he was when we were finally standing a few feet apart. We were practically the same height – he maybe had half an inch on me – but his bulk was like three of me put together, and I was a decent sized guy. My face must have shown my shock. “Yeah, sorry about that, T.J., my size can be a little surprising,” Awan said, turning even a darker shade of red. “Man, I just didn’t realize how big you really were until I was standing so close. Jesus, do you live in the gym?” I said, clearly teasing and trying to make him feel less awkward. “My friends say I do . . . especially when I’m getting ready for a competition,” he answered. “You must have one coming up,” I said. “No, it was last week. I competed in Las Vegas,” he answered. “Let me guess . . . you won,” I said, sure of his victory. “Um . . . yeah, I did. How did you know?” he asked. “Just by looking at you Awan. Just by looking at you,” I said, smiling and shaking my head at his monstrous body. “The good thing is – since the competition is over – I can eat whatever I want, and I love pasta! And pizza!” he added as we started walking in the direction of Luigi’s. “Man, you’re really big,” I said, after stealing glances at him as we walked to the restaurant. “I can’t imagine the kind of dedication you have to have to get to be your size.” “I’m sure you practiced lay-ups with the same kind of dedication,” Awan said, clearly wanting to move the conversation away from his body. “Maybe so, but my lay-ups don’t come close to matching your size, Awan,” I said, not catching on to what he wanted. “I bet people in Pakistan went crazy when they saw you!” “Yeah, guys my size are pretty rare, there. It’s not like California, where there are bodybuilders everywhere,” Awan replied, chuckling at my persistence. “I can tell you want the conversation to move elsewhere but let me just say this – even in California guys your size are few and far between, Awan. Trust me. And how in the hell do you deal with all the staring? We haven’t walked more than five steps without having someone stop to gawk,” I said. “I haven’t really noticed, T.J.,” he replied, looking around, “I guess I was too focused on you.” It was my turn to go red in the face. I did smile, however – genuinely touched by the compliment. We were about a half a block from the restaurant when a group of college girls stopped us to see if they could have a picture with Awan. I, of course, was asked to take the picture. I was confident in my looks and, usually, enjoyed many a stare from men and women, but this evening it was like I was invisible. One good thing about the moment was that it gave me a great chance to really look at Awan’s body. It was overwhelmingly incredible. I was into athletic guys and was proud of my own physicality, but never had I given huge bodybuilders more than an appreciative glance. I’m not sure why, it was just one of those things. However, watching the man being coerced into flexing his arms – barely contained in a dark blue polo – made me wide-eyed because of how truly huge they were. I also cut off the tops of heads in one of the shots because I was too focused on Awan’s massive chest – stretching out the material of his shirt so beautifully. “Are you two on a date?” the blonde who took her phone from me asked Awan. “I don’t know, ask T.J., here. I hope we’re on a date,” Awan answered, looking up at me and smiling. “So, Mr. T.J. – is this a date?” another one of the group asked me. “We all really hope so, because you two look hot together.” “Um . . . yeah . . . yeah, it’s a date,” I stammered back. “Oh geez, I just love it when two gorgeous guys get together!” the blonde screamed, and the entire group chimed in with their agreement. There were a few individual selfies with Awan and the blonde actually took one with me, making me feel a lot better. And then they were off – as fast as they had come upon us and the sidewalk was quiet. Neither of us moved. I was watching the girls walk down the sidewalk, fully aware that Awan was looking at me. I turned to see him smiling. “What?” I asked. “You like me. You really, really like me,” he teasingly said. “Come on, crazy man,” I said, shaking my head and walking to open the door to the restaurant. I also took off my ball cap and tried in vain to smooth down my hair. “I like guys that do those kinds of things,” Awan said, as soon as the hostess had seated us in a large booth – noting that Awan wouldn’t fit comfortably in the small ones. “Do what kind of things?” I asked, glancing up from my menu. “Open doors for people and take their hats off in buildings,” Awan answered – beaming at me. “Manners were drilled into me as a child, what can I say?” I replied. “My mother would absolutely know if I kept my hat on in here and she lives thousands of miles away. I do it mostly to save my hide. And, in all honesty, one of the reasons I held the door for you was I thought it would be fun to see people’s reactions when you walked in. I forgot, however, that your huge body would be blocking my view.” “Why are you so obsessed with my size, Mr. Thomas John Henderson,” Awan inquired. “Hey, you remembered my name,” I replied. “Of course,” he said. “I’m not obsessed. It’s just that I’ve never known anyone as big as you. I mean I’m friends with big guys, but none of them come close to your size. It’s just that . . . well, I’m fascinated to find out how you manage . . . being so big. It seems like some things would be really difficult,” I answered, honestly. “Like what?” Awan asked. “Oh, I don’t know . . . let’s see . . . okay, take my condo for example. I have a very small bathroom off the front foyer . . . you know for guests when there’s a party. I know for a fact that you wouldn’t fit in the room. Your shoulders are too broad,” I answered, quickly avoiding other things that were crossing my mind. “You’ve got other bathrooms, right?” “Sure,” I said. “I’d use one of them,” Awan answered. “But yes, you are right. There are some places I just have to avoid. Airplane bathrooms are the worst – not to mention airplane seats. I also once got stuck in one of those photo booths with a friend. It took me a long time to pry myself out and I think I bent the wall a little. I used to take my nephew to see movies or things like Disney on Ice, but the kids sitting behind us couldn’t see the show . . . come to think of it, neither could the parents.” “Now, you’re just teasing me,” I said. “Maybe a little. I’ve just gotten used to being big, T.J., and it doesn’t bother me. All of our choices in life make us have to give up other things. A bodybuilder’s life is hard, but it has its benefits, too.” “Like what,” I asked. “Like this,” he said, and he raised his eyes to the waiter across the room. In seconds . . . no, in milliseconds the guy was standing next to our table, pen in hand, staring at Awan with a goofy smile that said he was ready to do anything for the big man. “Beer, T.J.?” “Yes. A Stella,” I replied, trying my best not to laugh. “Make that two Stella’s,” Awan said to the eager waiter. “Yes sir,” the guy shot back and hurried off to fulfill the giant’s wishes. “Please know, T.J., that I did that merely to show you something. I do not use my size to get special attention . . . well, sometimes I do, but I don’t do it a lot. I’m not demanding in that way,” Awan quickly explained. “I don’t think I should be entitled to anything because of my size.” “Well, you should be entitled to bigger clothes, don’t you think? Trust me, I wouldn’t be sitting here if I thought you did act entitled, Awan,” I said, reassuring him. “It was pretty impressive, though, getting the waiter so quickly.” “He’s into muscle, so it helps that I work out,” Awan answered. “How the hell do you know that?” I asked. “He keeps having to adjust himself,” Awan replied, but didn’t look up from the menu. I turned to see the waiter doing an awkward move from leg to leg as he reached down to lessen the tension of an obvious boner – a good sized boner, too. I got the distinct feeling the thing had actually snaked out to the top of his underwear and he was trying in vain to get it back it. I chuckled a little and then turned back to Awan, who was a deep shade of red – clearly uncomfortable about having pointed out the waiter’s predicament. I placed my hand on his, noticing immediately that his fingers were twice as thick as mine. I smiled and forced myself to not look down at his huge mitt. The beers were delivered. “Dude, you’re hot,” I said, “Don’t be embarrassed just because some guy sprouts some wood looking at you. Take it as a compliment.” “I do. I really do,” Awan responded, quickly, “I just don’t want you to think I always want that kind of reaction . . . or, worse, expect it.” “Well, if an elephant walks into the room, it’s going to be noticed,” I said, patting his hand and then pulling mine away – the contact was making the temperature in the room shoot up. “Yeah, well, Mr. T.J. – you’re an elephant, too. Most of the moms on the playground and some of the dads are always taking notice of you when you’re playing ball and saying how hot you are,” Awan said with a smile, as if he had won some contest. It was now my turn to blush. Awan noticed. We both stared at each other for a few seconds and then got embarrassed at the same time, so we simultaneously took a big gulp of beer. I glanced at the waiter – anywhere to distract me from Awan’s gorgeous eyes. The poor man was still trying to get his hard-on in a comfortable position. I looked back at the elephant in the room. “How does someone have sex with a bodybuilder the size of you?” I asked, catching Awan off guard with my bluntness and he choked on his beer. “What?” he said between coughs. “Dude, you’re as massive as a house! You could probably flatten a little guy like a steamroller when you climbed on top of him. I know I’ve crossed a line, but it’s been on my mind ever since we sat down, Awan. You’re as wide as the booth!” I exclaimed – making it clear that these thoughts had been building up inside me for a while. Awan paused for a few beats and then smiled, saying, “I’ll answer your question, T.J., but first you need to tell me if you’re asking because the thought of having sex with me had crossed your mind.” It was like I had been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Of course, the idea of doing the nasty with this humongous beefcake had crossed my mind, but still my mouth opened and closed a few times without emitting a sound. I turned a much deeper shade of red than before and it took me a few seconds to recover any semblance of calmness I might have had earlier. In spite of all this, I decided – immediately – that I would be completely honest with the huge man in front of me “How on earth could I not be thinking about it, Awan. You’re nice, handsome, smart, and clearly a good guy. I seriously think even straight men would have trouble not thinking about having sex with you,” I answered – and finished with a sip of beer. “Funny, I’ve been thinking about having sex with you the entire evening, too,” Awan replied. “So, T.J., I’m sure you’re aware of this already, but there are many different ways for two men to have sex. Sometimes the steamroller can be on the bottom . . . supporting the other guy.” I pride myself for not labeling people . . . not letting stereotypes seep into my brain, but the idea of someone as massive as Awan being a bottom both confused me and aroused me at the same time. For a few seconds I disappeared into my own little world imagining holding his gigantic legs while I . . . I forced myself to stop these thoughts. I didn’t want to ask the waiter for a bunch of new cloth napkins – requesting some of them to be wet. Cleaning up a mess under the table just didn’t seem like first date wholesomeness. I, myself, was very versatile – and enjoyed being both a pitcher and a catcher. Still, the idea of having all of Awan’s colossal weight on top of me seemed like it would be a little uncomfortable. I seriously pondered if sex with an elephant could be enjoyable. Awan clearly saw my confusion and doubt. “Without wanting to sound conceited, T.J.,” he said, “let’s just say these arms and legs are strong enough to support all of my weight when engaged in any kind of bodily fun.” “I hadn’t thought of that,” I replied. “But it makes perfect sense. Sorry, if the question embarrassed you.” “Now, are we all done with questions about my size and references to elephants. Can we talk about something else for a while?” Awan asked imploringly. “For now,” I answered, “but I reserve the right to bring the conversation back to your big body any time I want. It’s your fault since you’re the one who grew himself massive. I’ve just never gotten to ask questions like this before.” “Fair enough,” Awan shot back. “But that means I can ask questions, too. What’s been your longest relationship?” “Whoa, that’s pretty personal, don’t you think?” I said. “And asking me how I have sex isn’t personal?” he responded – immediately putting me in my place. “Okay, you win. I dated a guy named Seth for two years . . . but that was more than four years ago,” I said, thinking about my ex for the first time in a long time. “Why did you break up?” Awan pressed on. “Look at you, getting all personal,” I teased. “Let’s see, he ended our relationship because he said I was too intense. I could become so focused on things that nothing else mattered. I became so absorbed in something that I’d forget other things . . . things, I guess, he thought were important.” “Like what?” Awan asked. “Like to buy coffee or our anniversary,” I quickly answered, and it made Awan smile. “What?” “I get that way when I’m training for a competition. Single-minded – totally focused on the end goal. My friends use the word ‘obsessed’ and they’re probably right,” Awan replied – making our connection deepen a little. “I would think you kind of had to . . . but clearly all that obsessing has paid off,” I said. “Did you ever think you’d find yourself attracted to a bodybuilder?” Awan quietly asked, knowing full well this question took us into new territory. I stared at him . . . not answering right away. I took a sip of my beer as we both waited for what we knew would be a ‘game changer’ reply. We were starting to map out a future – not long-term, but possibly something in the near future. I thought about my answer knowing fully well the weight it carried. I liked this guy. I liked him a lot. But I was stepping out into unchartered territory . . . into an area of my life I had never discussed with anyone. Awan made me brave enough to step out into the darkness. “I used to sneak strength and bodybuilding magazines into my bedroom when I was a teenager. There was something about the dedication of those guys . . . the way they could sculpt their bodies into something amazing that really turned me on,” I said, softly, and then added, “Um, I’ve never told anyone that.” We stared at each other – the connection having grown even more intense. Even the waiter picked up on it and didn’t come near our table. I was shocked that I didn’t turn red. I wasn’t embarrassed by what I had shared. I thought I would have been, but there was something in this gentle giant that had made it easy . . . no, had made it safe to share something so intimate. I smiled, feeling secure that I had answered honestly and that had pleased Awan. “I could pose for you, sometime . . . If you’d like that,” Awan said – so shyly that I almost couldn’t hear him. “I’d like that a lot,” I answered so quickly that it made Awan smile. “I’ve been watching you for months, sir,” Awan added. “Trying to get up the nerve to talk to you.” “You know, there’s a certain amount of disconnect when hearing a man as massive as you confess he was trying to ‘get up the nerve’ to do anything. It’s almost like you’re behaving like Clark Kent to hide your true identity,” I said. “I’m really quite shy,” Awan answered after a couple of beats. “I’m sure I got into bodybuilding partially as a way to become more confident. I thought it might help open myself to conversations I was naturally too scared to engage in.” “How’s that working for you?” I asked, chuckling a little. “Tonight, it seems to be working better than it ever has in my entire life,” Awan shot back – definitely confident. “Why me, Awan?” I asked without thinking, “Why have you been watching me for a few months?” “Because you exude a certain kind of comfortableness I’ve never witnessed before,” Awan said, immediately. “I watch you play basketball with this mixed group of men – different ages, different ethnicities, different sexual orientations – and you’re comfortable with all of them. You’ll pat anyone on the ass after a good play. You’ve got the straightest straight men giving you a hug after games . . . just because they like you so much. Confidence oozes out of you and everyone senses it. The mothers on the playground talk about how they wish you’d give lessons to their husbands on how to be a man. They call you ‘Mr. Polite,’ ‘Mr. Sportsmanship,’ and ‘Mr. Hot Ass.’ Okay, I might have been the person that actually started the third one, but it doesn’t matter. T.J., you’re so smooth that everyone notices it . . . no matter who they are or what their background is. I wish I could tap into your confidence, somehow. It would have saved me a lot of frustration in the past.” It was a little surreal having someone that seemed like the Hulk talking about your confidence and wanting to be more like you. One glance at Awan and you’d just assume he was cocky-as-hell or just blazingly confident because of his enormous body. I was, again, caught off guard by how much we assume things just from the way people look. I could have spent hours arguing against all the titles bestowed upon me at the park or giving Awan examples of how I did not deserve all the positive attributes he claimed I had just from watching me. I chose, however, to focus selfishly on one thing he had said. “You think I have a hot ass?” I asked, toying with him, mercilessly. “The hottest in the park,” Awan answered and then added, “The hottest I’ve ever seen.” “Would you like another…” the waiter began, suddenly reappearing. “Yes!” I said, loudly, interrupting him because I was suddenly so in need of focusing anywhere else than Awan. “And you, sir?” the waiter asked Awan, emphasizing the ‘sir’ in a way that almost sounded sexual. “Yes, I’ll have one, too. And I think we’re ready to order,” Awan replied and we both reopened our menus having totally forgotten what it was we had decided on – distracted by other things. “He’s still got a raging boner,” I whispered, smiling, when the waiter departed – after getting our orders. “He’s also packing some largeness,” Awan whispered back. “You noticed?” I said. “How could you not?” Awan replied and we both giggled like naughty schoolchildren. “Well, there’s largeness and then there’s ‘elephant in the room largeness,’” I said teasingly. “Hey, I thought we were going to move on from talking about my size,” Awan protested. “Who said I was talking about you?” I shot back and then through laughter I added, “I was referring to what’s happening in my pants right now under the table.” “Thomas John Henderson!” Awan said in a mock scolding voice, “You are a naughty boy.” “There’s nothing ‘boy’ about me, Awan. If you know what I mean,” I said, still laughing and taking a sip of my beer. “I would definitely agree with that,” Awan said, with a serious tone that made the sexual tension sparks fly even more. “Definitely.” We both sat in silence for almost a minute or two – only sipping our beers. We were like two fighters who had returned to their corners of the ring for some much-needed rest after an intense bout of punches being thrown and absorbed. Except, this time, the punches were extremely pleasurable and exciting. We only retreated to prevent unwanted wet stains. It felt like millions of tiny unseeable pins were poking me all over my body. I tingled with expectation and desire. I also sensed that Awan felt the same way. I wanted to move the conversation to something light and, hopefully, harmless. “Have you ever gone stiff on stage . . . you know, only wearing posers?” I asked, making Awan choke on some beer again. “Yes,” he said, smiling, “Tons of times.” “Tell the truth . . . was it because of your own posing, your own body?” I asked, leaning forward to emphasize that I really wanted to know. “If I’m being completely honest, here, and I want to be – yes. I’ve definitely sprouted some major wood because of my own body,” Awan answered, and I could tell he was sharing something with me that he’d never said to anyone else – and he didn’t turn red this time. “I find that so fucking hot . . . oh, sorry about the ‘f’ word. I hope that doesn’t offend you,” I quickly said. “Why is it hot?” Awan asked, and I could tell he was now making me confess some inner secrets. “Oh, I don’t know, there’s just something about a guy admiring his own big body the same way other people do . . . and being turned on by it . . . that excites me. It’s like a painter looking at a picture he’s done and thinking it’s good. I like that kind of confidence,” I answered. “Do you get turned on by your own body?” Awan asked, leaning in to put emphasis on his question, too. “Yeah . . . yeah, I do,” I answered – but I did turn a little red. “What specifically has turned you on about it,” Awan pressed, knowing full well it was making me feel uncomfortable and smiling the whole time. “Payback’s hell, isn’t it, T.J.?” “Okay, big guy, two people can play this game. I refuse to be some shy, embarrassed little boy. I happen to like the tightness of my body. I also think I have a hot furry chest and abs. And if you must know . . . and I am not being cocky, I’m just answering your question . . . I do think I have a good ass. Well, better than average ass, at least,” I answered – my confidence waning at the end. “Ever cum thinking about your own body,” Awan asked – shooting beet red as he did. “Now, who’s being the naughty boy!” I said – a little too loudly, causing some people to look our way. “I might have had some celebratory emissions while looking at myself in the mirror.” “Celebratory emissions!” Awan laughed, unable to control himself. “It sounds like you might want to go get your body smog checked.” This made us both laugh hard and then it was immediately time for another brief time-out in our corners, again. As Awan sipped his beer, he didn’t let his gaze drop from mine. I suddenly sensed a new confidence in him. It might have been the beer or the fact that he was feeling more comfortable with me, but I definitely could see the side of him that could command the stage in front of thousands of people and make judges fall all over themselves to score him high. I had the feeling his home was loaded with trophies. It seemed he could summon a winner’s attitude when he needed to – and that, on top of his superior genetics, definitely made him a force of nature. I put on my ‘game face’ an equaled his intensity. I was could be very confident on the court. He instantly noticed the change within me, and I could tell it turned him on. “You aren’t intimidated by me, are you?” Awan asked and it felt like he held his breath with anticipation of my answer. “No. You’re huge . . . that’s for sure, but not intimidating,” I answered. “Do I intimidate you?” “Only before I talked to you,” Awan answered, honestly. “Now, I just want you.” “The feeling is mutual,” I responded – quickly. “What if the sex is horrible?” “Have you ever had bad sex?” Awan asked – and it sounded like he already knew the answer. “No . . . not really,” I said. “Just bad sexual partners.” “Well, that ain’t me,” Awan said – sounding curiously like a southern gentleman. “You make me want to work out . . . to burn off some excess energy.” “We should lift together sometime,” I said . . . and then added, “In the nude.” “Fuuuuuck, that brought me too close to the edge, T.J.,” Awan said, reaching under the table to so something at his crotch and gulping down the rest of his beer. “Let’s call a flirting truce for a while, okay. I’m aching in certain parts of my body more than I do after a four-hour workout session.” “Fair enough,” I answered. “Trust me, I could use the break, too.” “Here you go, fellas,” our waiter said as he put down our plates – both, Awan and me noticing the poor guy was still at full mast. “Can I get you another….” “Yes!” we both answered at the same time and all three of us laughed. “Can I just be unprofessional for a few minutes,” the youngish waiter said, “and tell you both that you are the hottest couple I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I’m not sure who turns me on the most.” And then he was gone – too embarrassed by what he had shared to remain standing there for us to respond. I cannot lie – his inclusion of me in his praise both shocked me and thrilled me. I had assumed, like Awan, that he was the type that was totally into muscle and didn’t even notice me. To be included in the same category as the trophy-winning bodybuilder in front of me was almost unfathomable – and I did not suffer from lack of self-esteem. Awan and I stared at each other, smiling. We felt united in a new way – as if some deity had just blessed our connection. The big man picked up his fork, but before he plunged it into his generous plate of pasta – clearly enhanced by the cook that I noticed kept stepping out to get a glance of the huge bodybuilder – he smiled and spoke. “That guy is so getting a huge tip!” Awan said and then he added, “As huge as I hope I will be getting later on tonight!” And the flirting level jumped right back up to ten, instantly.

Hey guys been lurking for a while and wanted to try a story. It doesn’t have huge growth but definitely I’m into muscle strength and dominance. Feedback greatly appreciated The Things I Do For My Friends I don’t really have any friends. I don’t really have time for them. If I’m not lifting in the gym I’m reading about bodybuilding or coming up with new routines to hone my body into a work of art. And fuck was it ever. I have biceps peaked to perfection, shoulders wide enough to fill any doorway, quads that barely left any room for my massive bulge, and shredded abs for days. Damn I’d call off of work sick just to spend the day looking at myself. I’d trace veins all over my body with my fingers and nearly cum without touching myself. Fuck I’ve never seen cords of muscle on anyone better than me... even stage competitors. And I don’t even compete! I’m a fucking living masterpiece of pure dick hardening muscle I kept one friend though. Taylor. He was with me through it all. When I was a skinny little runt he’d be there cheering me on to grow. He was the perfect cheerleader for me. I never really showed him my body in all its glory though I remember this one time Taylor came over. He was all into his woman. Talked about her all the time and when he finally married her he was on cloud nine. I was truly happy for him. That was in fact until the day that she cheated on him. He came over to my house all sad and dejected, and was looking for a friend to console him. He sat with me and put his head on my shoulder and I could feel him weeping. I have to say the tears made my shirt adhere to my shoulder and although he was crying I was getting turned on by the massive boulder that was my delt. “It’s ok buddy” I said. I knew he kind of had a thing for me even though he was straight. I’d get the looks and stares but he was my bud. It was all good. I’m happy my body could give him some pleasure. I mean I would walk down the street and I knew men and women would be pleasuring themselves that night to the image of me they saw when I passed them on the street. “Fuck I’m going to miss her. And man those tits were insane. I could fuck them all night long!“ That was when the idea came to my mind. I knew how I could cheer him up and finally get his mind off her. I put his hand on my chest and I rippled up the huge massive pecs into solid iron. He looked up at me and I looked him deep in the eyes. I told him, “Do you want to forget about your girl? My chest can do shit that will make you forget about her forever. These pecs are gonna make your dick fucking scream and forget about that bitch.” I grabbed the top of my collar and started to tear the shirt down revealing my massive chest. I rippled them slowly and then fast and then slow again so he could see every shred and striation course over the shelf. “Holy shit!” He said. I knew I had him I looked at my chest and felt each meaty slab lovingly. I grabbed a walnut that was in a bowl on the table in front of me and told him to watch. I placed it in the cleavage and slowly flexed around it so he could hear the shell crack and finally shatter then crumble into powder on the floor. I smiled at my insane show of power and then smirked at him when I saw that he had to adjust his dick He looked up at me as I said “for you buddy I’m going to erase every memory you’ve ever had of that slut. You saw what I did to that nut? Imagine what it’s going to do to that cock!” What? He said I didn’t even give him time to comprehend as I grabbed him by the collar and picked him up. I reached down and tore off his shorts exposing him. I knelt down before him and grabbed his dick and made the head trace my striations. I laid back on the ground and pulled him down with me so he was sitting on my abs. “You liked her tits? You’ll never remember them after this. Fuck my chest” He started breathing heavily as he wedged his dick right in my monstrous cleavage and started thrusting back and forth with the head touching my chin every time. He got into a rhythm before I felt I needed to take control. You couldn’t even see his shaft as the size of my chest swallowed it. As he was thrusting I tensed a little stopping his dick cold. He couldn’t move it at all I smirked up at him and gave him a cocky grin and said “Sit back and relax. My turn” The amount of control I showed was insane. I flexed my chest hard into his dick and he moaned with pleasure. I concentrated and started to roll my chest. My left pec going up with the other going down in perfect rhythm. He arched his back and threw his head back as I continued the assault. I then bounced them fast almost like a blur of muscle vibrating his cock as he reached back and grabbed my quads. I then flexed hard squeezing his dick to the point his head was purple. I fine tuned striations in my chest to hit different parts along his cock giving him sensations he never had before in his life. His body spasming as he told me he couldn’t take anymore. I laughed and told him to get ready. I rolled my pecs fast in unison up and down thrusting his cock and pumping it better than he ever did to any pussy. Faster and faster as his body seized in pleasure. He let out a guttural scream as he unloaded all over me shooting past my head. He collapsed on me sweating. Breathing hard. I relaxed my chest as he slid out. I told him “all for you buddy. You will never miss her with this body as your friend” He responded with “miss who?”

The day was there, Andrew’s 18th birthday was finally there. Andrew had seen the procedure on two of his three older brothers. David and Luke both got sent away the day they turned 18. David, Luke and Andrew were kids from his dad’s previous marriage. The three brothers had a small build. They looked twinkish; all three of them had to wear glasses, their skins were full of zits. Even on their 18th birthdays, their faces were covered in pimples. No muscles to be spotted. The first person that went away was David, his oldest brother. He was dragged away the morning of his 18th birthday. Andrew remembered the day vividly. He woke up to screaming and the sound of somebody being dragged over the floor. David resisted as much as his weak body could. Finally, they gave him an injection of some sort. Just as Andrew rounded the corner, he saw his oldest brother losing consciousness, his eyes fading away. Two bodybuilders in army clothing dragged his brother away, into an army van. Two years went by, in the beginning, his brother sent letters. They were all addressed to Andrew and Luke. Andrew still kept the first letter of his brother. The message was positive; it went on about how amazing the camp was, how good his fellow soldiers were, not a single negative thing to be spotted. Until Luke remembered that he and David used to write secret notes to each other. For the first few weeks, the two brothers wondered why the sentences had such weird structures. Then, Luke wrote down all capital letters behind each other. “HELP ME” they spelt. They told it to their dad, who laughed it off. After that, the two brothers had to make sure they checked the letterbox before anyone else, or the letters were destroyed before the boys could read it. For the first three months, all letters contained a similar message. Then the messages stopped, and the spelling of the letters deteriorated. One month later, four months after the hidden messages stopped, all letters stopped. The army must’ve found out about the secret messages, six months later, a final letter arrived. The handwriting assembled that of a child. Somebody else surely must’ve tried to write something. But this contained a message “NO HELP. ME GOOD”. After this letter, Andrew’s father and step mum seemed to start on preparing Luke to be sent away to the army. It was better for him not to resist. If he didn’t, he would be home within half a year. He wasn’t supposed to send any letters, after what happened with David. And then, on Luke’s 18th birthday, an army truck stopped in front of the door. Luke obviously chose to follow the advice. When Andrew walked out of his room to check on his brother, he saw him silently followingGeneral to the army truck outside. Before the sun shone down on Andrew’s street, his brother was gone. With his brother disappearing, all signs of him in the house disappeared as well. Andrew never heard anything from his brother again. His parents were silent about it all; all the pictures of his brothers were removed from the house. And now Andrew was here, lying in bed on his 18th birthday. He finished making up his mind about the past years without his brother, the agonizing pain of not being allowed to tell his friends that he might never see them again hit him. The distinct sound of the doorbell ended his thoughts. It was time. Andrew jumped out of bed, but on his tracksuit pants and grabbed the bags he packed the night before. Deciding also to follow the advise to be cooperative, the image of his oldest brother getting an injection still instilled in his mind. He had to to leave his bags at the door. “The army will take care of that for you, kid”,the General said. Andrew wanted to speak up, demand that he could take some personal belongings with him. Then he remembered the injection again, and he decided not to. He obediently put down the bags and walked outside to the van, not even waving his parents goodbye. The door was closed as soon as he left the house. He saw the army van for the first time up close, the first thing he noticed was that there were other people in it already. Almost all boys inside looked to be his age and one older man, who looked more like a dad himself. As Andrew entered the van, taking place on the last available seat, he saw 7 other grim faces. The older guy looked to be the most shocked. As the van began to move, Andrew could hear that the older man was saying stuff under his breath. “The guy looked like me” he put his head in his hands as he said so, “exactly like me. How will she know? They brainwashed her; they must have. I shouldn’t have resisted the offer. They brainwashed her to put me out of the house. And now, she’s with him. What about my boys?” The guy just kept on rambling completely upset with what happened. Andrew looked around the van. He could only see the people he was sitting within the back, the driver’s compartment had been sealed off, and they were unable to see anything. Finally, Andrew’s eyes rested on the blonde boy sitting next to him. He looked to be around his age, and the only question Andrew could form left his mouth: “It’s your birthday too?” The blonde gave a quick nod. Andrew immediately asked a new question: “Where, where are they taking us?”, his fear made his voice crack a little there. The boy moved his eyes to something that appeared to be a camera next to a speaker. “No speaking to each other!”, a voice commanded through the speaker. “Now that you’re all here, however, I can explain to you guys where we are going. You were selected for a special program from the military in search to create a super-soldier. You guys were lucky enough to receive warnings from your older brothers not to resist us. That’s good. We like it that way, except for Henry here. You may have noticed he’s a lot older than you guys. That’s because he has three young boys who were selected for the program when they turn 18. He decided to resist our offer, so we had to replace him with a copy of him, a copy that’s a bit more obedient to our suggestions. But don’t worry Henry, you’ll be a part of our experiments now.” After saying this, Henry started crying out loud, and the speaker shut off. Leaving the group with only the sounds of the van and Henry’s sobbing. Andrew rested in his faith, as most boys appeared to do. The road to the military facility seemed to take forever, and Andrew drifted off now and then. Just after he woke up, he guessed eight full hours had passed by now. The windows seemed to get covered by something dark. This was preventing the people in it to look at their surroundings. No idea of where they ware, the journey went on for another hour before the van finally stopped. The doors opened and the young men inside needed a minute to adjust to the sunlight flooding in. “Come out now boys!”General commanded. As the boys walked out, Andrew immediately noticed an incredibly muscled guy standing just outside of the van, looking at the boys from a little distance. Andrew’s jaw almost hit the floor when he saw the guy. The man in front of him had blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes. He was wearing a tight green t-shirt and cargo pants that hugged his muscled legs very tightly. Andrew had seen some images of hyper muscled guys when he was looking for “chicks with massive tits” on the internet. This guy, however, dwarfed all the pictures he’d seen before. The front of the cargo pants looked like a turkey had been stuffed inside of them. His t-shirt hung loosely around his narrow waist, and the sleeves were straining against massive biceps. At that moment, to Andrew, a god himself had descended from heaven. The blonde guy that sat next to Andrew on their way here clearly didn’t share Andrew’s view of the guy. “Ronald! Ronald is that you? What the fuck did these guys do to you?” By the end of the sentence, the blonde was practically screaming, running towards the god-like figure a few metres away from them. “Rob, stay here! I command you.” General said mockingly, trying to stop him. Ronald didn’t react to his name at first, but he did respond to the guy running towards him. A slight grin formed on his face, and he retrieved a little injection needle from his pocket. When Rob closed the little distance in between them, Ronald stapped him straight in the neck. From where he was standing, Andrew wasn’t able to see Rob’s face. “Wha… what’s… happ…” Before he was able to finish his sentence, Rob lost consciousness and fell to the floor. Ronald picked the blonde boy from the floor and carried him out of sight for the others. “Okay boys, let this be a lesson for all of you; behave yourselves. Some people here might look familiar to you, but rest assured they won’t show any sign of recognizing you. So don’t end up like Rob. And now we’re off to the barracks, you will start your training immediately after settling in. From now on you guys will be on a tough diet and work out regimen. Welcome to the army boys.” Three days had passed. The first night the group was put through the most intense workout any member of the group had ever experienced. Everybody had struggled, eventually giving up on giving their full 100% in the workout. The trick was to make the general think that you were pushing yourself. It turned out the entire group would make for some good actors! Henry, the group’s dad, was the first that lost his façade. He just gave up, put down the weights and started sobbing again, calling for his wife and kids. After seeing this, General walked over to Henry, leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Immediately after this, Henry’s back straightened, and he got a stern look on his face. The rest of the workout, Henry put more than a 100% into his exercises. Nobody considered it possible, but after General offered him a special type of drink, Henry’s muscles seemed to grow with every rep. The general looked up to the rest of the group and noticed them staring with an intense stare. “Well, I tend to have some very forcing whispers as you guys see. If this causes you discomfort, feel free to get your earphones for the next workout and listen to some music during your workouts! But don’t forget, the special water will be mandatory from tomorrow on.” Indeed, the next day during breakfast a special purple drink was served. This was the only colourful thing most of the group had as a meal. All the meals on the army grounds seemed to consist of a grey goo. Andrew looked at Henry’s plate, and he noticed the goo was purple and he had a nice steak served with it as well. A weird type of breakfast, Andrew thought. As Andrew was finishing his grey goo, the ground started shaking a little. The doors to the cafeteria flung open, but where light should’ve been flooding in through the open doors, most of it was blocked by a giant silhouette. A figure that rivalled the other soldiers that Andrew grew accustomed of in the past day. The figure stepped inside, closing the doors behind him. When he turned his face towards the room, Andrew’s jaw hit the floor again. Standing at the entrance was somebody that looked like Rob’s twin brother. The guy had the same blonde hair and small nose as the guy that sat next to Andrew on the bus just a day before. But of course, somebody couldn’t grow that large in one day! The Rob look-a-like started walking towards Andrew’s table. He smiled a beautiful white smile and then asked with a booming voice: “Hey Andrew, is this spot still free?” Andrew found his ability to speak after a bit of a struggle: “R-R-Rob? Is that you?” “I’ll take that as a yes”; the blonde god spoke as he sat down at the table, the chair underneath him letting out a few noises in protest of the weight. Rob was eating a steak, just like Henry. He looked around franticly, and when Rob saw that no other soldiers were around, he bent over a bit to Andrew. As he turned towards Henry, Rob dropped his voice to a slight whisper. “They didn’t get my mind yet. Be sure to take some earphones to the gym session this afternoon. Meet me afterwards outside behind the main building in the north of the camp. Be careful not to show anybody a sign that you know anything. See you then.” Rob looked up as one of the soldiers marching in the cafeteria hushed them. “You two, eat!”, the guard practically yelled at them. Rob and Andrew finished their meals in silence. Immediately after drinking the purple drink, Andrew noticed his muscles aching less. His body was getting a nice pump to start the workouts that afternoon. He actually started to feel a little excited to workout, and clearly, the other guys felt similar. Most of them were chatting enthusiastically, and Andrew only remembered to take his earphones at the last minute before going out of the building to get to the gym barrack. It turned out he was the only one that remembered to take their earphones. As they were walking in the middle of the grey barracks, the sun burning on their bodies clad in army gear, multiple men referred to their forgotten earphones and music. “Oh men, don’t fear” Henry’s voice boomed through the group. “You’ll like hearing the General’s voice pushing you to the limit. YEAH LET’S GO!” That final statement ended with Henry clapping his hands together, flexing his arms in the process. The gym building was pretty close to the guys’ dormitory, and as they walked in rows of two, Andrew again was assigned to Rob. They were walking next to the blonde guy, seeing how he had hulked up. Henry’s dick went semi-hard. “weird”, thought Andrew “I never chub up around a guy.” Before Andrew could give his strange arousal another thought, the group arrived at the gym. The General immediately put them through the same intense session as the day before. Andrew secretly tried to check in the other guys. Henry was in a similar mood as the day before, hyper-focused on his training. He was screaming through his reps as his muscles kept tensing up and swelling. Everybody noticed the rapid muscle growth on the kidnapped dad. Every rep was bringing his body closer to giants like Rob or the soldiers outside of the gym. Henry wasn’t the only one throwing all of himself into the workout. Since almost all people except for Andrew forgot to take their earphones, the General was walking around. Whispering words into their ears, after a brief exchange of whispers, the eyes of the guy whispered to would get an overly focused gaze to them. After that, the guy wholeheartedly threw himself into the workout, immediately growing his muscles. As the General passed Rob, he started speaking out loud, and Andrew could hear his voice through the music from his earbuds. “Ah Rob, the boys did a good job on you, didn’t they? You look like a real good soldier now!” Upon hearing this, Rob’s eyes fogged over slightly, and he started pushing himself further into the workout. All the guys around Andrew threw themselves into their workouts vigorously, but the General left Andrew alone, just winking at him occasionally as he walked past him. At the end of the workout, Andrew stood up from the benchpress he was laying on and decided to still go to the place that he and Rob would meet up at. Andew stood behind the main building in the north of the camp. The late afternoon sun was shining down on his head. He looked around, looking whether Rob was leaving the gym building already. Finally, a figure left the gym building. Henry squinted his eyes against the sun, and as the figure came closer, he saw that it wasn’t Rob. The General had an evil grin as he approached Andrew. “Well, well, well. Look who’s here. You’re the first person I’ve seen so far that was able to remember to bring his earphones to the second workout. Amazing! We can’t use resisters in this camp, I’m afraid. As you may have noticed by now, we don’t really like people that resist. Let me show you what happened to the people that opposed the moment we tried to take them, I think one of them will be quite familiar to you.” The General concluded with a smirk in his voice. At this moment, Andrew could feel the earth move a little as he saw Rob leave the gym building. Rob walked up to the General with a guilty look in his eyes. “Sorry man, all I need is a trigger now, and he just made me…” Andrew could see Rob’s eyes go empty again as he saw the General squeeze the big bulge in Rob’s tracksuit pants as the muscled giant let out a massive groan. “Yeah, it takes a few days for our convicts to stay in their mental state permanently. Okay now, let’s go boys.” “YES, SIR!” Rob yelled as he started marching further towards the edge of the army camp. After a walk that was relatively far considering they were just inside an army camp, the threesome stood in front of a rather high building. From behind the blinded windows, Andrew could hear sucking noises and faint moans. A glance at Rob’s pants showed that at least someone was exciting to stand close to this building. Andrew just got a bad feeling from it. The General slid open some doors that made the building look more like a barn than an army building. As the General closed the doors behind them, Andrew’s eyes needed a second to get used to the lack of lighting, caused by the black paper covering up the windows. His mouth opened in shock, another door was in front of them, the moans behind it unbearably loud. In front of the door stood two guards, just as muscled as the other soldiers in the camp. Andrew focused his gaze on the guard standing on the left side of the door. While all other soldiers he had seen so far were wearing camouflage coloured pants, this one was wearing tight compression pants that reached just above the knee. His calves stood out like diamonds, and his quads were wider than Andrew’s hips. The shorts had trouble containing a throbbing dick that almost showed it’s head on the bottom of the right leg. His balls made the crotch look like two small melons were put in there. Cobblestone abs, eight in total followed the narrow waist. His pecs stood out, forming shelves under his face. His lats almost seemed to form wings behind him, causing his arms to form an angle. His traps almost entirely swallowed the giant’s neck. Now that Andrew finally raised his head to look at the guy’s face, his mouth fell to the floor. Of course, somebody gets used to seeing muscled guys everywhere if you see them all the time, but the face shocked him. The face of this giant, showed his older brother Luke, the one that got sent away directly before him. After getting over the initial shock, Andrew wanted to run towards his brother and call out his name. Just in time, he remembered what happened to Rob. He took a final glance at the soldier’s eyes, staring towards something, only the two guards could see. “Ooh, yeah that’s right. One of these guards should look quite familiar to you, Andrew!” The General said out loud. “Don’t worry. You’ll be able to spend time with him soon enough!” As the General said that, he gave a stern nod towards the guard who pressed their backs against the door, causing it to open minimally. The General slipped through the gap, as did Rob, pulling Andrew behind him. The room behind the doors had bright lights, so bright that Andrew had to cover his eyes for a second. The General clearly tried to say something, but all the background noise completely overpowered him. The first sound that stood out in the cacophony of noises were the moans. The room sounded like an orgy bigger than any porn movie Andrew had ever seen. And then there was a sucking sound, not as if somebody was sucking on something, no a machine. Andrew slowly opened his eyes and let them adjust to the lights. He thought his mouth couldn’t hit the floor any harder than it already had in the past few days, but this was a new shock for the 18-year-old. The General, Rob and Andrew stood on some sort of platform, looking over a slightly lower room. On the floor, about 4 metres below the platform, a group of musclebound people sat, feeding from tubes. The sucking noises were made by big tubes attached to the freaks’ cocks. Sucking the cum out of them, and then, the cum seemed to travel towards a big tank. It reminded Andrew of the times he visited a dairy farm in his youth. The General bent over towards Andrew. “Now, you might want to prepare for what’s next. Your eldest brother is down there.” Andrew’s stomach sank. As the threesome descended down the stairs, Andrew could see that the room continued underground. Dozens of men must’ve been in the room, sucking on tubes and getting their dicks sucked. Some had army men, the kind that Andrew got used to by now, fucking them from behind. The eyes of both cumcows and soldiers only showing utter bliss. The only difference in them was that the guys bottoming seemed to have lost their intelligence. Their mouths constantly drooling. Their dicks were enormous, reaching out well above their heads. The balls were bigger as well, the only other difference with the regular soldiers besides dicks and balls was the look in their eyes. It was hard to describe, but to Andrew, they just looked dumb. His fears turned out to be accurate, the guy in front of them, getting fucked senseless by a soldier at the moment, was his oldest brother. The guy… was David. The General started speaking again: “As I said before, and as you may have noticed by now, we don’t like resisters. We try to form a super army, and we thought we should try to form a bond between the soldiers that was as strong as possible. We were making them gay and hungry for each other. That worked pretty much straight away after the transformation is complete, only super-soldiers will make you horny. Not only that, if you don’t get fucked or get to fuck after two days, you’ll slowly go crazy. The first version of our virus made people stupid as a rock, and caused…” The General paused for a second, “some more significant dick growth than we wanted. Their balls were set to produce the serum themselves, giving them the possibility to enslave the enemy. However, in the end we found out that caused the loss in cognitive abilities, so we had to take that out of the serum. The second prototype worked like a charm! In the end the government decided to stop the funding, so we lost most of our serum. Luckily we still had some of the first serum left. A slight adjustment to that caused their inflated balls to produce the second version of the serum. It’s complicated, but it worked! So now we just mix some of that cum into your food and drinks. The subliminal messages in the gym, enhanced by my commands, activate the serum. Our Research department didn’t stop there though, to guarantee a stable supply of new recruits, we bribed parents into giving us their children. If they resist, we clone them with some more… agreeing versions of themselves. We just send the women to an island. Most men end up in this building, as our serum cows. Your brother was different, though. He decided to resist and kept on resisting even as his mind was melting away into his balls. Too bad, he shouldn’t have needed to become a cow. Unfortunately, I don’t make the rules. And now, say goodbye to your life as you know it.” The General turned towards Rob and commanded: “Rob, start fucking little David here!” “YES, SIR!”, Rob replied as he undid his pants, lowering them. His cock seemed to go on for ages, it turned out he was as hung as the guard’s at the door. Andrew had been silent all the time, completely dumbfounded. The General bent over and said: “Now, be a good jock-soldier and eat your brother's cum. And with you along, I’ll make the army pay for ever stopping our funding.” At these words, Andrew felt the enormous need to obey, and so he did. The General unhooked the tube and Andrew started sucking his older brother’s dick, while Rob fucked David into oblivion. As his brother started cumming, Andrew blacked out. --- “WAKE UP, YOU FATARSES. BREAKFAST IS SERVED SOON.” Andrew lifted his head, he was awake for quite some time. He looked down towards a guy playing around with his dick. After what happened in “the barrack”, Andrew only saw the other soldiers as his brothers. He believed, however, that this one was called Luke, and he had some special bond with him. They both looked quite alike, Andrew thought as he blew his former brother’s mouth. Quickly after they went out of bed, got dressed and walked towards the breakfast hall. In there a bigger recruit, Andrew believed his name was “Henry” or something, threw himself into an already intense pull-up session on the doorframe. He clearly tried to show the general his best. Andrew sat next to his brother in arms, a guy he at one point thought of as “Rob”. The guy was an absolute beast and Andrew loved the way he filled his ass! As he started eating his breakfast, the General started speaking. “Recruits, after months of extensive training, the time has come! This nation can no longer continue it’s crimes agains the people that should rightfully be in power. Just look at you! You are super-soldiers!” The group started cheering as the General started yelling. “You are super-soldiers and together we will move towards the capital! We will make this country ours!” To Andrew, the future looked bright.

This is a simple story. This is a moment in time I'm sure will never be repeated. I've read about incredible happenings such as this but for once it happened to me! I've been eyeing a big man at my gym. I go to a regular, corporate gym that brings in all types. There are a few really well built men that dress to show off, grunt to be heard and like to be watched. Hoping to be 'best in show' and therefore choose the average man's gym. There are a few incredibly strong behemoths that stay mostly clothed, mostly to themselves and just push big weight. There are a lot of men like me. We vary in age and clearly do not make the gym a temple, but a friend. I'm steady at coming in and putting in good time, but don't always right, won't put my extra money into tons of supplements and don't have the best genetics. The big man I've been eyeing has all of my second description. He's strong. He's very big - both tall and thick. He is friendly with those he knows, works hard and seems to enjoy his time in his happy place. He is impressive without trying to be so. He has a tattoo on the back of his calf that I really dig. During this COVID time, I haven't seem him for a few months. That's OK. He's just one of my favorites to admire. But today he's at the machine next to me. I've noticed how close I am to the gravity of such a big dude. He has his head down looking at his phone. I notice his great beard and think, "Good God, daddy!" His arms are bent for the phone and are deliciously engorged and wide and rounded. Full and yet not 'cut.' The chest is massive. The weight of the tissue causes it to hang while he is neither working nor tensing them. It suggests he is strong. They are full and coated in hair which I can see through his Under Armor. He must be 6'4". I look down to his shoes and he has the big feet I like to see. The legs are good. Not quite equal to the upper body that he obviously loves to test, but they aren't skinny-man legs. I try not to stare. He puts his phone in his pocket. I notice the size ration of his hands. Nothing melts me quite like huge hands. His might be his best feature. So big. So powerful. Well used. Grrrrooowl. He turns a bit and leans down to change the pins to just one shy of the full stack. He has a rope attachment. Looks to be a standard triceps press down. But no - I get a treat. He grabs the rope and encircles both parts of the rope with one hand and begins well-controlled, no momentum or leverage pulls with the back of his arm. That part of his limb explodes with girth and shows this isn't his first set. I try to quit gawking and change my pin to include another plate and stand up to do...damn, my own triceps press down. Hadn't even thought of the competition I was about to loose. I look casually back and watch him concentrate, breath deliberately and move that weight with more control than I was mine. He finished with one arm and spun to do the other. All at once I noticed the tat on the calf...it was the big fella I've been eyeing most of the year, back with a beard. A really hot, full, grown man beard. I hadn't recognized him. He looked a little bigger, too. In the same millisecond I saw and thought this, I looked up at his face and he smiled, dropped his eyes to 'not invade' and kept pumping. I smiled back with a nod, but too late. He'd already looked away. I watched for another moment and he surprised me by looking up. The appropriate amount of time for 'gym bro' had not passed. I froze. He made my year. "I'm Benjamin. Haven't seen you here in a while. Been coming in at night instead. Seemed less busy during the pandemic and all. Your form looks good on those presses." Homo say what? He is Benjamin. He has noticed me. He complimented me. He just looked down at his arm to draw my attention there. I look and he just holds the weight in place. "My form on this doesn't begin to match the perfection in that arm!" I go for broke, after all, he started it. "How big is that thing anyway? 20 inches?" "Ha, ha. No. I'm so tall and wide it's hard to gauge the circumference as the rest of my anatomy throws the visuals off. They are just over 23 inches now." "Shit, dude. Good for you. Hard work pays off," I choke out. "And great genetics. All my family is larger." "And a LOT of food, I expect." "Yes, um....I didn't catch your name?" "I'm sorry," I say as I stop holding my ropes and reach out my hand to shake, "I'm Marshall." He doesn't reach for my hand and I'm embarrassed and crushed all at once. "Good to meet you. COVID and all," Benjamin apologizes. "Of course, sorry." I don't really know what to do with my hands. I put them on my hips and realize it kind of looks like a Superman pose. "I'm a nurse and you'd think I'd be more careful than that. I haven't shook hands for months." "Clearly you are careful, Marshall. You are one of the few that always has a mask on at the gym. And you always clean your equipment. You must be very aware with your career," he suggests. "Yes. I live alone and hardly see anyone except here and at work. I don't even grocery shop. I do the pick up thing." Why did I mention I live alone? How ridiculous. "Me, too. I don't go to the store. I work from home." There is a pause. "Alone. At home. I haven't spent any time with someone for half a year. The gym is my only escape," he admits. Or was he hinting? "Sounds like we are both very careful men." "Sounds like it, Marshall." He starts to pick up his towel and adds, "It's nice to meet you," and I panic. He starts to turn away and I blurt out, "But I don't feel like being careful today." He pauses and looks back. "I feel like inviting you over to give you every bit of attention that body deserves." I close my eyes and clench my teeth reactively. What the HELL did I just say! Right in the middle of the gym where others might here. I didn't make a pass at a huge, hot stud who has 23 inch guns and more power in that one arms than my combined two. I essentially said, "Let's go have sex," to a man I don't even know is gay, let alone interested. He steps toward me and gets pretty close. "What makes you think I'm gay, Marshall?" "Nothing. Nothing Benjamin." I gather strength as he is not already punching me nor chewing me out nor walking away. I feel strangely OK with restating my thoughts. "It's just that I am and I hope you find it flattering that I think you are the hottest beast of a man I've seen in person and I have a massive crush and I just thought I should say it. I realize now seeing you that I might not see you again, since these weird times separate people so and I'm just so attracted to you and this situation has made me understand I should open my mouth rather than just be alone. And the way you manhandled that triceps rope with one hand and a stack of weights and that tattoo on your leg is so great..." I was blathering without even breathing as I spilled all the beans including thoughts I didn't know I'd thought. He put his fingers on my mouth to stop me yapping but pulled them immediately away. He placed his paw on my shoulder instead and it was just as heavy as I expected. He had hold of me and there was no escaping. Were there enough guys in here that would come to my aid if he freaked out? Benjamin smiled. "That was really bold, Marshall." He grabbed the back of my head and shook me the way a coach does. "And it is incredibly flattering. You know - being as big as I am would make you think I get propositioned all the time. But the truth is it almost never happens. I intimidate most men into distant admiration. Though I don't build my body as a calling card, I know it brings the boys to the yard, to borrow a phrase." He let go of me. "I am definitely flattered and it arouses me. I'm glad you asked me over. Let's go." He turned and walked toward the locker room. I knew damn well he didn't use the locker room, ever. But he knew that I did, I calculated. "I'm not finished with my workout, Benjamin. I just got here." He spun and popped up a gigantic double biceps as though no one else were there. I grinned really big, newly unabashed in my lust. "I think I can give you a workout." He squeezed the biceps hard and bigger and dropped them as quick as he'd lifted them. He popped each pec once and said, "Let's go get your stuff." Off I followed him to the locker room, mind numb from the exchange and giddy with excitement over what might come next.

OK so, for the first continuous story on this brand new forum, and as I'm cripplingly ill right now, I figured why not use that to my advantage and give myself something to bone up about when I'm busy struggling through this terrible bout of pneumonia right? SO the setup? Just like it sounds, a flu that starts out with basic cold symptoms and goes on in men to produce intense growth spurts, the exact nature and speed of which depends totally on the victim! The astute observer will note this is drawing some inspiration from the fantastic Ingrewenza story on CF, however, I figured this would truly be the best place to start a story like this, because as this is a breathing growing living community we could get different growth stories from across the fucking GLOBE to enjoy all thanks to this terrible pandemic! No growth limits whatsoever, any male character can grow, and grow IMMENSE. You can add new characters whenever you want, you can even divert the story however you'd like, honestly see this as your own means of exploring this alternate universe and enjoying some GROWTH. So without further adieu I'll start us off to get this thing started! I kinda picture this as like a documentary movie, almost by Michael Bay! Northern Ontario Canada 04/20/14 Will sat, his muscles aching and fevered as he tried to lay back on his couch, the phone going off as he sat up with an annoyed sigh. He sat up, wincing as his core muscles flexed and tensed "Yes, yeah, this is Will, no, no I can't come in today, I already called, too sick." "Yeah, I'd heard there was something going around, ok, it's best you stay home then, I'm not sure what we're going to do but I guess I can try and call someone in" his supervisor chided and scolded him like an errant child, always his least favourite part of calling in sick, which is why he did it so infrequently but right now he could barely MOVE nevermind pull an entire 10hour shift. Struggling to make it to the shower, still coughing and tensing, at 6ft tall and 220lbs, moving around felt like it took a monumental effort just to get his feet lifting off the ground for so much as a few seconds. Disrobing he stared at his hairy self in the mirror, flexing for himself but immediately regretting the decision as he started the shower up. His muscles feeling on FIRE with the slightest move, but the drowning rushing rain of hot water helped to sooth that ache. Out of earshot of the TV the news bulletin flashed with a worried female reporter behind her desk and a flushed faced male anchor struggling to maintain his composure. The woman talking quickly, and worriedly "The virus has reached pandemic levels at this point, with new cases being reported in Africa, Australia and the UK, as well as the originating cities of Toronto, and New York. Scientists remain baffled as to why it's so virulent, why it only affects men and why it seems to cause such an immediate response in muscular hypertrophy" She smiled worriedly to her co worker. "Symptoms start off very similar to the standard flu symptoms *COUGH* with high fever, and sweating, as well as *COUGH Uhhnn* coughs and muscle fatigue however UHhnnn" The male anchor paused, gripping the tabletop with his hands, the veins coursing up and down his thickening fingers as his wrist started to swell and snapping the expensive rolex as his sleeves started to slide up his lengthening arm There was chaos in the news room as people started to scramble to get out of the viruses harmful yet, clearly pleasurable reach! "Oh God! Robert!" she cried, not fearing the virus's ill effects as the camera tilted downward, no longer able to view his face as his pecs started to balloon out of his shirt, bulging, swelling and tearing with each panting breath! the fabric splitting as the flimsy metal table top was being bowed UP by repeated impacts, a meaty THACK THACK THUD as his grunts got more and more guttural! "Ohhh GOD soo GOOD! The Ache! it...it's GONE!" he moaned "Ohh GOD Stacey it feels so GOOD" he moaned as table was finally ripped open, a big meaty something that the censors just barely managed to blur in time throbbing up the length of his now bare abs as his sleeves on his expensive suit shredded open! his pecs out of the frame now as he continued to grunt, his deepening voice growing more and more agitated as every muscle seemed to bulge and swell out of control! His hands were still rooted to the table, the hairy thick biceps, now bigger around than his coworkers head was a moment ago covered in such thick pulsing veins that seemed to stretch up and down his entire body as he let out a deep bellowing grunt! That massive censored bar ERUPTING with what looked like gallons of an equally pixelated substance blasting the camera off its track and allowing for a full view of the standing grunting beast! Clearly looking well past 8ft tall this muscle man was immense, every muscle flexing and throbbing with each heavy spurt out of his monumental cock! His pecs pressed up against his chin as his lats spread his arms up giving him a terrifying V shape! The censor bar covering most of his abs, but you could see from the sides, they were thick, swollen and covered in as much hair as his two immense pecs, each one about as big as a car door! His orgasmic shouts echoing those of every single man who had come down with the virus "Oh GOD I'm just so BIG! so FUCKING BIG!" The censors having given up on doing anything else, let that one slide, before cutting the feed entirely. Will walked back in, the feel of clothing on his body almost painful as he sat on his couch the shower not having done anything! just seeing a "Technical Difficulties" Logo up on the screen he let out another sigh and changed channels, feeling that same ache pulsing through his body even more violently than before the temporary relief of his shower!

The Testosterone Effect Part V: Secrets Continued from: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/6435-the-testosterone-effect-part-iv/ Matt was in the frat house basement, slowly crawling into the large center room, which was surrounded by makeshift barricades forming it and the private stalls he had just been in, sucking Sam off. Five other pledges also crawled out of private stalls, each one looking sheepishly nervous, wearing their own jock straps likely given to them by their own masters. The older brothers entered the room behind their pledges, standing proudly, each sporting a nice looking boner. Looking around the room at the other pledges, Matt sized up his competition. He was definitely the least muscular of the group, but he seemed to have the biggest cock based on the everyone's packages in their jocks. The lead frat brother stepped forward. "As you men know, this fraternity was founded on the ideals of masculinity and strength. We've got a long standing tradition here of being completely open and uniquely bonded to one another. If you're going to be part of this fraternity, you need to forge that bond - and strengthen it - every single day. Becoming the pure epitome of a man of Alpha Alpha is going to take time for you all... so we're going to help you. You've all been assigned a senior brother," he motioned to the men standing behind the pledges, "who has already started to guide you. But we want to size up each of you to see just how receptive you are." "It's tradition for the senior brothers to bond at least twice a week, and we're going to show you, later tonight, what that entails. And we're also going to give one of you the unique opportunity to be part of it. Whomever can prove himself most worthy by out-doing the rest of you will be invited to be part of our orgy." Fuck, Matt thought. Looking around the room, the other brothers were smoking hot, not least of all the leader, a tall, muscular asian guy. He had a completely hairless body with massive pecs and sculpted abs, and proudly showed off a nice 6.5" cock with big meaty balls hanging below. The brothers explained the rules of the contest - a double elimination bracket - once you lose, you've got one more shot at redemption, in something they called "man-wrestling." Apparently two of the pledges were to wrestle each other - in addition to moving on in the bracket, the winner would be allowed to fuck the loser and dominate him as he pleased. Matt gulped and fondled his growing bulge as his name was called for the first bout... --- Brian had been fired from his research job at the lab for gross misconduct with a subject - but it didn't matter, because he had all the data he needed. He sent Blake an e-mail: "Hi Blake, This is Brian, the researcher you... the guy from last Friday. I'd like to talk to you at my apartment if you have some free time this week. It's very critical that I speak to you regarding some data I've been analyzing from Friday. I'm over at 1124 W. Division St, Apt 4. Sincerely, Brian" Blake replied almost immediately. "Will be there Tuesday at 3 pm if that is ok Sent from my iPhone" Brian was ecstatic that Blake had replied. He immediately began making preparations for Tuesday afternoon, installing several new devices he had completed in his spare guest room. Things were about to get even more interesting for Blake... --- Matt's screams and groans echoed through the basement as the toned blonde stud who had defeated him in the very first matchup of the tournament held his head against the floor and pounded his cock into him over and over again. The victor whispered into his ear as he pumped Matt full of his hard dick. "Yeah, do you fucking like that? Fuck yeah you do, you probably lost on purpose, you're so hungry for this dick." While it did seem like he had lost on purpose, Matt truly did lose almost immediately to this blonde pledge. It happened so quickly. One minute he was grabbing the other guy's shoulders locked in a struggle, and the next he had been picked up, thrown to the mat, and pinned down hard. And now here he was... off to the side of the room, getting fucked by this other pledge - Kevin was his name - while another wrestling match raged on in the center of the room. Most of the brothers watched the wrestling, but a few stood around watching the other pairs of pledges having sex on the periphery. The cheers of the senior brothers, jeering and shouting at the fucking and wrestling matches, combined with the sounds of the pledges grunting, moaning, and pounding each other filled the room and escalated to a low uproar. Kevin continued fucking Matt for a little while before pulling out and ejaculating onto his back. "Fuck yeah," he moaned, slowly stroking cum out of his cock. "But I gotta save myself for that orgy." He stood up, slapped Matt's ass and said, "Hey man, you were hot. Gonna be good to be in this together." Matt was a little confused, but then he remembered that no matter what the outcome of the wrestling, he was still going to be Kevin's frat brother in the end. No reason to harbor a grudge... after all, they were all there to make each other better. Matt stood up and readied himself for the next match, against another one of the pledges who lost his first round, named Michael. Michael was a little taller than him, with a little more toned muscles, but a thin layer of black hair covering his chest and abs. Two huge tufts of black hair poked out of his armpits. "You just got fucked too, huh?" he asked Matt. "Yeah," Matt replied. He motioned over to Kevin. "What about you?" Michael pointed at the guy who just had his way with him, a dark-skinned guy who was sitting off to the side waiting for his next match. "He was hung like a horse," Michael laughed. "Well, good luck. No matter who wins I'm sure it'll be really hot." "Thanks, man," Michael said. Despite all the good feelings around, Matt really didn't want to get eliminated right away without winning a single match. After all, Sam pretty much made an exception for him. He wanted to show Sam he deserved to be here. Matt and Michael took their places in the center matt. The frat leader, the Asian guy, Will, blew a whistle telling them to start. Michael charged Matt and knocked him to his ass immediately, but Matt fired back, grabbing Michael's torso and pulling him down on top of him. The two boys rolled around on top of each other, struggling for dominance. They were both extremely sweaty from their previous match and from having sex, so with every move they slid and slipped over each other. Rolling around feeling each other's literally hot muscles had given each guy a half-chub in his jock, which hardened into a full erection after the men felt each other's stiffening cocks against their bodies. After about five minutes of struggling, Matt just couldn't push Michael away from him. He struggled as Michael pinned him down, and Sam counted it off "1...2...3..." and declared Michael the winner. He helped Matt up and the two men walked over to the side where Michael could claim his prize. "Hey man, that was a tough match," Michael said. "Thanks," Matt said graciously, although Michael could tell he was dejected about being the first one eliminated. "It coulda gone either way." Michael pulled the front of his jockstrap down revealing a 5.5" dick that was thicker than any of the other men's Matt had seen. "Well, at least you get to enjoy this," he smirked. Matt smiled as Michael laid down, his fat member sticking up in the air for Matt to sit on. The loser crouched down, hovering over Michael's lubed up cock, and slowly lowered himself to be impaled by the huge man meat. The two boys passionately fucked until Michael moaned loudly that he was about to come. Matt got up off his partner's dick and laid next to him on the floor, jerking his cock. As Michael let out a final moan of intense orgasm, Matt couldn't hold himself back any more either, and the two pledges simultaneously shot thick loads of cum onto each other's chest. --- Blake arrived at Brian's, ringing the bell before being let into the building. He entered the researcher's apartment. "Hey, thanks for coming," Brian said. "No problem," Blake replied. "Anything to do with this condition of mine... I want to learn everything I can about it." "And so do I," Brian answered, offering Blake a seat. This time, he actually wanted to avoid turning Blake on, at least for now. "I've been doing some independent analysis of the data we collected at the lab," Brian explained. "And I think I may be able to boost and enhance your growth." Blake's eyes widened. "WHAT!? Boost me even more!?!" Brian smiled. "So you're interested... I've got prototype apparatus set up in my guest room, if you want to try." Blake was super excited at the idea of being pumped up with testosterone even more than he already was. "Count me in! When can we start!" "How about right now..." Brian motioned to the closed door at the end of his hallway... --- About an hour after having sex with Michael, Matt was getting tired of watching the other guy's wrestle and fuck in the background. It must have been 4 am at this point - he just wanted to see this orgy and get home. Right on queue though, he realized he had witnessed the final match without realizing it - it was Michael vs. Kevin, and Michael came out victorious. Rather than fucking Kevin, Michael's prize would be to participate in the orgy, Will (the frat leader), explained. He motioned for the pledges to step to the side and to enjoy the show, then motioned the other senior brothers in. The mass of 8 men - Will, plus the 6 senior brothers, plus Michael, immediately started kissing each other, passionately rubbing each other's muscles. It didn't take long, but after a while, they each had a cock in their mouth and someone else's mouth on their own cock. The sound of gagging and sucking that filled the air drove Matt and the other pledges to jerk off. Eventually, the senior brothers split into smaller pairs or trios, and began fucking each other. Michael was in the middle of a threesome with Will and another guy who was Michael's "big brother", the three men rhythmically pounding each other and making love. After a little while long, the guy's started having their orgasms one by one, blowing their huge loads all over each other, but mostly all over Michael as he opened up his mouth and begged for his frat brother's seed. Sam extricated himself from the mass of men and approached Matt. "Hey bro, tough luck out there today. But we'll get you bigger, you'll be one of us guys soon." He put his arm around Matt and escorted him up to his room. Sam joined him in his bed, cuddling him as the big spoon. As Sam put his huge muscular bicep around Matt, however, he recognized a familiar smell... but from where? It was so strangely intoxicating, seemingly coming from Sam's armpit. As Matt drifted to sleep, he inhaled more and more of the scent, only finally realizing who it reminded him of before it was too late. --- Blake and Brian entered the guest room where the scientist had set up the new "super-growth" apparatus for Blake. The bed and dresser were pushed up against the wall. What looked like a modified sex sling hung from the ceiling, and a desk with a laptop with complicated looking calculations were at the foot of the bed. "Take off all of your clothes," Brian told Blake. "Then get in the sling." Brian quickly turned around to avoid being turned on by Blake's muscles while he got into position. He grabbed the laptop and faced the door, locking it and initiating a countdown sequence for the growth program. Blake stood at the straps hanging from the ceiling, tightening them around his wrists and legs. Once they were secure, they automatically retracted, slowly suspending him in the air. His cock started to stiffen from the kinky situation Brian put him in. "Alright," he said. "I'm in the straps." Brian turned around, almost instantly becoming turned on by the sight of this huge man tied up in front of him. As he began to disrobe himself, the computer countdown reached zero. "You and I are about to have a lot of fun..." Brian devilishly smiled. What looked like several sprinkler heads mounted on the far side of the room began hissing, filling the room with a familiar scent... To Be Continued... Author's note: Sorry it took so long for this chapter, I will try to be more frequent with updates. The plot thickens as the results of Brian's research are revealed, and meanwhile, the frat Matt is rushing evidently has a secret... Next time: see what happens as the results of Brian's experiment come to fruition

Author's Notes: I wrote the complete first chapter of this story a while back. I already have a good idea of where/how the story will progress, but it would be quite unlikely I will be able to write the subsequent chapters (let alone post them) any time soon. I'll definitely revisit this story and post any updates whenever I can.

For those of you who have interacted with me, this story is a departure from my usual fare. I had an idea a few years ago and have been tinkering with it on and off for a while. The following will be fairly long, but hopefully a different take on the term "Muscle God" will be refreshing. This story is dedicated to the little guys that love making big guys feel big. Chapter One: Work Plans Travis was just about to turn off his computer when he saw he had a message from his boss, Jeff, to come see him right away. The message was brief and didn’t include anything alarming, but asking to see Travis at the end of the work day was unusual. Travis stood up tall and stretched his thick arms up over his head. He really needed to stretch more while working, he thought to himself; his muscles always got tight while sitting in front of his work computer all day. After loosening his tight back, Travis lumbered down the hall to his boss’s office where Jeff was finishing up a phone call. Jeff waved to Travis for him to come in and wait. Travis complied and entered the large office and sat himself down in one of the chairs in front of his boss’s desk. The chair was small for Travis’s large body, but the employee wasn’t one to complain. Jeff was the type of man that liked the way the chairs looked in his fancy office and never sat in them himself. As uncomfortable as the small chairs were, they at least made Travis feel big. The thought made the big man smile “Yes. Next week.” Jeff spoke charmingly into his phone. “Mmm hmm. uh huh. It is short notice, but we can send someone next week. Uh huh. Uh huh. Very good. Travis Hawley. Yes, that’s him. You know him. Uh huh. Good to hear. Okay. Goodbye.” Travis looked at his boss quizzically at the mention of his name. “Travis!” Jeff smiled at the big man. ‘How’d you like to go to Cleveland next week?” Travis did not possess anything resembling a poker face. Instead the big man frowned silently as his boss continued. “Travis, this will be good for you. You’re doing well here, and meeting clients face-to-face will be a good step for your career here. You do great work, but the clients don’t really know you because they haven’t met you. Here’s your chance.” Jeff looked at the frowning man and did his best to hide his own doubts. Where Travis had no poker face, Jeff could sell anything and convince people on the most improbable lies. Jeff needed Travis to go to Ohio. No one else was available — but looking at the big grump in his office stirred up additional worries. Travis was not his most charismatic team member. “How long?” Travis grumbled with his deep baritone voice. “Just a week.” Jeff spoke smoothly as Travis sighed with resignation. “You’ll fly to Ohio, get a nice hotel and work with the clients for a week. That’s it.” Jeff stood up and walked around closer to Travis and half sat on the edge of his desk. Travis briefly wondered if his boss was trying to intimidate him. Travis was a big guy, and Jeff… wasn’t. Travis realized Jeff wasn’t trying to look bigger, but to look approachable and on Travis’s side. “Working directly with clients is a great opportunity for you Trav.” Jeff settled into a groove. “Good feedback from the clients will reflect well on you and give the higher ups reasons to promote you. No one likes to travel, but it’s part of the job.” “But a whole week?” Travis sounded more angry than he intended, but Jeff was unfazed. Travis looked like a bruiser, but his boss knew the big guy wouldn’t hurt anyone. Nevertheless, Travis’s gruff voice reminded Jeff of a few potential pitfalls. Jeff was a shrewd boss who knew how to get the most out of his staff. The break room was stocked with dozens of different kinds of coffees and tea for his caffeine addicted staff members. He even made sure there were chocolate bars in the break room so those looking for an afternoon shot of sugar could get their fix without any trouble. Jeff wasn’t exactly a pusher, but he was perfectly willing to feed the legal addictions of his staff. The exception was Travis who never drank coffee or tea, and if he ever snacked on a chocolate bar the rest of the office would probably assume the end of the world was imminent. Travis’s addiction was the gym, and Jeff learned a few years ago that as long has he never scheduled Travis for an early morning meeting that cut into gym time, all would be okay. Jeff recalled the last time Travis skipped a morning workout to get to work early instead. Grumpy Travis combined with his less than charming outward appearance terrified the rest of the staff. Unfortunately, they happened to have a new hire that day who retreated to Jeff’s office petrified of the big man. George admitted that Travis hadn’t actually threatened him or yelled at him, but just the look of Travis and his scowl had George a nervous wreck. After the ‘George-Incident,’ Jeff made sure Travis never had early morning appointments so the big guy wouldn’t have to skip his morning workout. From then on, while everyone else got caffeine and sugar as needed, Travis got his early mornings free for lifting. “A little travel will do you good.” Jeff was in full sales mode. “You know what? When Chris gets you your travel details, I want you to look up a local gym by your hotel. I know a shitty hotel gym won’t cut it for you. Buy yourself day passes or a week pass, hell, buy a whole month if you have to, and put it on your expenses.” “Really?” Travis’s expression lightened considerably. “Look Trav. I know you. I know you’re a great guy that wouldn’t hurt anyone. But let’s face it, when you skip your workout, you get… um… intense.” Jeff smiled at Travis to keep the big man placated. “The clients will learn you’re a great guy too, but when you first meet them… it would be better if you were at your most relaxed. Make sure you get your morning workout in.” Jeff stood up and walked back to his desk seat. As Travis got up to leave Jeff’s office, Jeff added, “Oh, and try to smile more.” Travis frowned at Jeff with look that if Jeff didn’t know better said Jeff had less than 10 seconds to live. “Yeah, not like that,” Jeff commented with a smile. The big man forced a smile and left his boss’s office. Travis knew his boss meant well, and the ‘less than handsome’ look of his face wasn’t news to Travis in the least. In fact, the big guy was painfully aware of how his rough features and crooked nose turned people off. And while no one would insult him directly, Travis overheard comments like “From the neck down he’s hot, but…” all the time. He figured the only reason no one said these things to him directly was the 250 pounds of muscle connected to his unsightly face. That night he looked at himself in his bathroom mirror and practiced smiling. He had to admit, he did look better when he smiled. Chapter Two: The Flight Travis dreaded his flight to Cleveland. Not because he was scared of flying or even the annoying Cleveland part, but because he knew he would not be comfortable in the tiny airplane seats. Where his boss, Jeff, was generous in many ways, paying for upgraded seats on flights was not one of them. While Travis was the tallest and biggest in the office, plenty of other guys had complained about not getting business class seats on flights to no avail. There was no way Jeff was going to give Travis an exception when he had been denying others for years. At least he had an aisle seat. Travis looked sharp in his dress shirt, suit and slacks. His business clothing softened his rough features and made him look less like a ruffian and more civilized. He edged his way towards his seat, being careful not to slam his bag into the passengers already seated as he made his way down the airplane aisle. As he reached his seat he saw the middle seat was already occupied by a smaller gentleman reading a book. As Travis loaded his bag into the overhead bin and moved to settle into his seat, the guy in the middle seat looked up at him and grumbled, “You gotta be kidding me.” The bigger man tried to ignore the comment and pretend he didn’t hear it, but his face turned red with embarrassment. Travis’s pale complexion made hiding his feelings practically impossible. The seating for Travis was cramped and uncomfortable, especially with his height and wide build, but he did his best to not jam his knees into the seat in front of him, both for the sake of his knees and the woman seated there. He also leaned forward so his shoulder wouldn’t squish into the small, rude stranger. As much as he was looking forward to getting home at the end of the week, Travis was not looking forward to the return flight where he would have to do this ordeal again. Travis sat as still as he could, hunched forward, and prayed that there would be no delays and the uncomfortable torture would be over soon. A few minutes later another passenger arrived to take the window seat, which Travis had neglected to notice was empty. Travis was about to un-wedge himself out of his seat when the man next to him loudly proclaimed, “Oh Hell No,” and jammed his finger into the call button above their heads. Travis looked at the man next to him with confusion, then turned to look at the other passenger and realized why the man was so irate. Standing in the aisle with a duffel bag over his shoulder was the biggest and thickest man Travis had ever seen in person. The guy looked like he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him but was still bigger than anyone else on the plane by far, including Travis. The tight t-shirt and shorts he was wearing couldn’t hide any bit of the solid muscle the guy was carrying. Not only did he look much thicker than Travis, he looked taller too. The man’s height, wide shoulders and thick muscle outclassed Travis in every way. When not at a gym, it was rare for Travis to encounter a guy bigger and more muscled than his 250 pounds, even in New York. The stranger had it all, causing a twinge of jealousy to ripple through Travis, and when he saw the man’s handsome face, that jealousy blossomed to full blown envy. The man had perfectly styled blond hair and a youthful but masculine handsomeness. He had a face that, unlike Travis’s own rough look, everyone would adore. His strong chin fit perfectly with his hulking frame. Travis was smitten as well as envious of the big guy. As a flight attendant made her way to their row, the man in the middle seat started shouting at her, “You can’t expect me to sit between these two!” She looked at the muscled man standing in the aisle, then looked at Travis hunched over in his seat trying not to take up as much room as his body demanded, “Uh, no, I guess not. Sir, could you come with me, I think we have an empty seat further in the back.” She addressed the smaller man in the middle seat. “Why should I have to move?” he demanded. “You just asked me to move you, Sir. You do not have to change seats if you don’t want to,” she replied with a hint of annoyance. “You should move them,” he sneered at Travis and the other muscle man. “You can ask to be reseated, Sir, but you can’t demand that we reseat other passengers” the flight attendant explained with remarkable patience. “Fine. I’ll move” he conceded. Travis wordlessly got up and exchanged looks with the muscle man still standing in the aisle waiting for the seat situation to resolve. When Travis made eye contact with the muscle man he received a wink and a nod of approval. Travis felt unusually elated and smiled in response, and Travis was not one to smile often. Once the middle seat guy had scampered off, Travis backed up to allow the muscle beast access to his window seat before resettling into his own aisle seat. The situation was much improved. With the middle seat empty, Travis could sit back and let his arm and shoulder spill over into the middle seat space. Looking at the other guy, he saw he was doing the same. There was only about 9 inches between their shoulders. “I’m Matt” the muscle guy introduced himself and awkwardly turned to offer his right hand to shake, then chuckled at the absurdity of their tight quarters. Realizing that Travis would have no room to turn his body to meet right hand to right hand, Matt closed his right hand into a fist bump. “Travis” Travis replied as he reached his left fist across his body to meet Matt’s fist. “Could be worse, we could be flying cross country” Matt joked. Travis smiled again, he was finding it easy to smile today. “Is Cleveland really much better?” “Hey!” Matt replied with mock offense. “Oh sorry.” Travis turned red. “No worries. Cleveland isn’t New York, that’s for sure, but it’s Home.” Matt smiled at Travis, and Travis wondered if he had ever been so attracted to anyone before. “Its my first time to Cleveland. Work trip.” Travis explained. “I’m staying at the Cleveland Grand. Do you know it?” “Sure. I know it.” Matt replied. “Do you know of a good gym in that area? I’d like to get some lifting in this week. You know how skipping lifts can be.” Travis said with an eagerness that he could not manage to contain. “Yeah, I know where you should lift.” Matt pulled out his duffel bag and rummaged through the contents, pulling out a crumpled business card for a gym. “The gym I lift at is in your area.” Travis took the beat up card and cheerfully offered his thanks. “When do you usually workout? I’m going to go early, before my work assignment.” “I work out early hours too.” Matt lied. “Maybe I’ll see you there. 6AM?” Matt suppressed a cringe as he stated the obscenely early hour. “Yeah. Awesome.” Travis was elated. The two muscle-heads chatted the entire flight, talking about lifting and comparing notes. Travis shared a little bit about his history, starting to lift in college and sticking to it. “Six feet one inch and 250 pounds,” Travis found himself proudly proclaiming, even though he knew Matt was considerably bigger. “And you?” he added as he simply needed to know just how big, ‘big’ could be. “290.” Matt replied coolly, trying not to be boastful. “Six foot three.”, he added. “Damn, it’s hard enough packing on size at 6’1”. I can’t imagine how you got so thick at your height.” Travis was talking more freely than usual, and as he finished his sentence he blushed a bit more as he realized that he probably did know how Matt got so big. He didn’t care if Matt used steroids. It wasn’t something Travis did, but he didn’t object to what others did to grow. And to be honest, Travis was considering making the leap himself. Looking at Matt, he could see the appeal of steroids up close. “Yeah, it can be hard.” Matt downplayed what Travis had said. “But I got there, right?” Matt smiled with a bit of unease. Travis felt terrible. He wanted to say he was cool with it, but he also didn’t want to broach the subject explicitly. “So another early bird like me.” Travis changed the subject. “I love lifting first thing in the morning. It seems weird, but it gets me energized for the rest of the day… after the initial exhaustion.” The two continued to talk and settled back into easy going conversation. Travis avoided anything that might imply or lead to a discussion on steroids, and Matt’s outgoing personality came roaring back to the fore. Once they landed and deplaned, Travis said goodbye to his new friend and felt a flutter in his stomach as he thought about seeing him again the next morning. Chapter 3: Monday Morning Chapter 4: Monday Evening Chapter 5: Tuesday Chapter 6: Wednesday Chapter 7: Thursday Morning Chapter 8: Thursday Midday Chapter 9: Thursday Evening Chapter 10: Thursday Night Chapter 11: Friday Morning Chapter 12: Friday Afternoon Chapter 13: Saturday Chapter 14: Sunday Chapter 15: The End

Still no growth, sorry about that. But it'll come. Part 1 _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ By the time we reached the Denny's, my cock had finally calmed itself down. Which, I think, was a good thing at this point. Mainly because I couldn't bear to leak any more into my already damp pants. It wasn't all that cold outside, but it was fall, and there was still a chill, and damp pants were uncomfortable more so in this condition. I suppose after finally humanizing Jolias, my libido had enough sense to turn itself down a bit. But I still had to strive to keep my mind out of the gutter whenever I looked at his sexy face. My cock was still semi-hard, though. We entered the building, and of course, the only people patronizing the restaurant were younger folks like us. And a few thirty-something adults who were probably just looking for a quick place that was still open that wasn't a drive-thru. We sat down at a table and awkwardly tried to idle in silence. I mean, I guess even Jolias found himself in a situation that was somewhat unusual. He asked a random stranger whose name he didn't even know yet to get food. And I certainly wouldn't have been here under any normal circumstances. He was just so damn hot I couldn't bring myself to say no in spite of every part of my body urging me to do so. But, I was thinking with my dick. I found myself fidgeting with my hands on the table, and Jolias sat there in front of me looking around, and we both apparently forgot how hungry we were since neither of us bothered to glance at the menu, even though by now most people already know what they want when they decide to enter a Denny's. I couldn't bring myself to look directly at him. It was like avoiding looking directly at the sun, but instead with Jolias I didn't want to allow my dick to grow into full hardness again rather than avoiding being blind. By the time the waitress finally came around to collect any type of order from us, I stuttered a bit when ordering my usual root beer, and Jolias surprised me a bit by ordering just water. When the waitress wandered away, Jolias was the first to finally break the silence between us and said "Cheaper, y'know?" as he half-grinned at me, and I felt myself blush a little. Why, I couldn't know, but I also knew he was right. These places, all restaurants over-charge for beverages. "Know what you're getting?" Jolias asked me, continuing to speak. I shook my head no. "We should probably look at the menu, then, 'cuz neither do I," he giggled, and picked up his menu and started to browse it. Truthfully I already did know what I wanted. I always think I don't because I convince myself I'll try something different, but I always acquiesce and get the buffalo chicken sandwich. If it's one thing Denny's gets really right, it's their buffalo sauce. In my opinion, anyway. I pretended to look at the menu for a little bit, and then put it down, and he was still searching through it. But I quickly came to the realization that the last thing I wanted this hot dude to do was regret his decision to come here with me. Sitting here like a useless lump on a log would certainly not ring in his memory as a fun experience. "Yo, Jolias," I started, trying to sound cool. He looked up from his menu, rather expressionless, expectant of more to come. "I, uh... where'd you graduate high school?" I stammered. He half-grinned, still holding his menu up a bit, and responded "Home school. I never really attended any high school, and I stopped going to public school back in middle school. Why?" "Just curious," I muttered, feeling stupid for my pathetic attempt at making some sort of conversation. "What about you, dude?" He asked. "Huh?" He chuckled. "Your high school. Where'd you graduate?" "Oh! Uh, right here in town. Stayed local for college." "Oh cool, so if I had been going to school, we'd probably already know each other." "Probably," I said. "Well, now we can get to know each other." I felt my heart thud in my chest again. He said it with a smile. Like he genuinely wanted to get to know me. And I know it's silly, but FUCK. Jolias is the hottest guy I'd ever seen in my entire life, even on the internet or TV or in movies. Never would I have imagined he'd ever socialize with me, let alone hang out with me. But in no time at all, he was sitting across from me at a restaurant. I smiled back, not wanting to be a creepy motherfucker just staring blankly at him. "Oh shit, you already know whatchu want?" he asked, noticing my menu was flat on the table. "Y-yeah, I kind of knew before even looking at it." "Well, fuck, I gotta hurry up!" he chuckled, looking back at his menu. "No!" I burst out, too loudly and exuberantly. He looked back up raising an eyebrow at me. "I mean, uh don't feel rushed dude, take your time, I ain't in a rush." He chuckled again and looked back at the menu. "What're you getting, anyway?" he asked while keeping his eyes on the menu. "Buffalo chicken sandwich," I stated. "You like spicy, huh?" "I can go either way, but I really love the buffalo sauce Denny's has." He let the menu drop to the table and said "Well, I guess I'll give it a shot." He grinned. "Why'd you wanna come here with me?" I blurted out. I couldn't believe myself. It kept rattling around in my head, that very question. And I just accidentally blurted it out, probably sounding like I didn't want to be here. "What?" he asked, seemingly a bit taken aback by the question. His brow furrowed. 'Rephrase! Rephrase!' kept flashing in my mind. "I mean... well, yeah, we only just met, so what made you wanna come here with someone who's basically a stranger?" "I D K," he said, saying the letters instead of the words 'I don't know.' He shrugged his shoulders, and it was cute. So cute. "Kind of curious about ya, y'know?" he continued. "You seem interesting." Interesting? But then I remembered he watched me pitch a tent right in the middle of our class while having what was, to him, an obvious daydream. My heart fluttered, and anxiety crept into my mind. He's probably going to ask me what I was day dreaming about. But the waitress finally returned with our beverages after what seemed like an eternity. How long must it take to fill two glasses with liquid? But it didn't matter since we were ready to order food. And her timely reappearance allowed the subject to move away from what I was fearing would be asked of me. I told her I wanted the buffalo chicken sandwich and Jolias said "Same for me!" with a big smile, showing his shiny white teeth. "How is it you went to school around here before but didn't know there was a Denny's here?" he suddenly asked after the waitress wandered away. I actually couldn't help but laugh. "Good question, but this town is larger than it may seem. This place is kind of tucked away and I've never had much reason to venture out here." "Makes sense," he nodded, "College campuses sometimes seem like their own separate realms, don't they?" "Uhm, how many colleges you been to, dude?" I laughed. "I wouldn't know." He laughed, too. "Makes sense, though, don't it?" "Yeah, I s'pose so," I said, still chuckling a bit. I felt myself becoming more comfortable with him. He was becoming a human rather than just an object of my fantasies. Which, he still was, of course. But I could look at him and see more than that, now. "So, Jolias, how'd you get those red eyes?" I asked, and I saw his eyebrows perk up as he cocked his head at me. I continued, "I mean, what're they? Colored contacts?" His face broke out in a grin as he raised his arm and scratched the back of his head. "Nope. They're my natural eye color." "Seriously?" He nodded. "Yup." "That's so cool, dude. Never knew it was even possible. They're... striking." I saw his face turn red. Holy shit. Did I make him blush? "People always stare at them, but no one's ever said it's cool before," he said. "It's so unique and they stand out like crazy with your dark tan." Now it was my turn to nervously scratch my head. "I mean, of course you already know it's unique. I'm just sayin' I think it's awesome." He was grinning. It's almost like he's at least somewhat embarrassed by his eyes, or at least not used to receiving compliments about them. Not entirely sure why anyone would think negatively of them. But then he gave me a perfect example. He sort of glanced down at the table. "I've, uh, been told they make me look evil. And... I don't mean, like, jokingly. I once heard some woman suggest I was Satan himself..." "Seriously, dude? That's fucking stupid." But in reality I guess it made sense. If you've never even seen a person with red eyes before, I guess it was shocking when it finally happened. And some of those old-fashioned people, especially the religious types, would find some kind of problem with it. But they tend to weave their own delusions. "It's alright, though!" he perked back up. "Most people don't say anything, but then there's you who said it's awesome," and he gave me a cheesy shit-eating grin. "Here you guys go," our waitress returned carrying our food, placing the plates on the table. "Would you like refills?" she asked. We both looked at each other and then said simultaneously, "Sure, why not?" And then I, being the lame-o that I am, looked at Jolias and said "Jinx!" only to hear his voice resonating with mine. We burst out laughing at each other and the waitress kind of just grinned at us then walked away. "She probably thinks we're nuts," I said, after my laughter subsided. "I don't think either of us is allowed to speak right now," Jolias said as seriously as he could but broke out in a grin anyway. "Pretty sure it canceled itself out, dude." Then we laughed again. We dug into our food because, for real, we were both pretty damn hungry. I don't think either of us was used to having to wait so long to eat. I'll have to plan to eat before class next week. Who knows? Maybe Jolias will join me then, too. "Shit, you weren't lyin'," Jolias said with a mouthful. "Hm?" I grunted as I chewed my own mouthful. He swallowed. "This buffalo sauce is killer, dude." "Told ya," I muttered before taking another bite. We continued to eat our diner dinners in relative silence, both of us eating at an accelerated pace. I was super hungry and wanted to eat everything. I got the impression that Jolias felt the same. I finished first and sat back in the booth seat, and silently watched Jolias finish his food. I didn't feel as awkward or self-conscious now watching him. But, even now, looking at his cute and sexy face, even as he dumped food into his mouth, he was causing my cock to stir in my sticky boxers. The guy was truly hot. But then he took his last bite and mimicked my own behavior and sat back in his seat, letting his ass slide a bit forward and somewhat matched my posture. We sat like that in silence for a few moments as the waitress came and collected our plates and left the check. I ignored the check, not wanting to leave yet. I kept my eyes on Jolias and noticed he was looking directly back at me, straight into my eyes. "So what were you daydreaming about?" He finally asked it. I knew it was coming. "Hm?" I feigned ignorance. "Y'know, in class, when you almost went all catatonic." Shit. "Uhmm, nothing interesting, was just imagining, uh..." I trailed off as my mind frantically searched for a plausible lie and couldn't find one. Why? A billion different things I could have been imagining and somehow I couldn't come up with one. "Nuh uh," he said before I could finish thinking of a lie. He sat up a bit. "No way you were thinking of anything uninteresting with a tent like that. No way." He broke out into a grin. "So what was it?" "Dude, you know guys get horny sometimes, we're both dudes, so you know." "Fuck that noise, dude, I wanna know what was in your head!" he said, sitting up further. "I mean, shit, I get horny sometimes in random places at random times but nothing makes me pitch a tent like that. Dude you were full-on hard." Shit shit shit shit shit. Wait, I saw an out. "What, you sayin' just because you got a small dick that every other dude must have one too?" I said as jovially as possible, grinning. He chuckled. "Fuck off, man, my dick is plenty big, don't you doubt it." He looked around and said quieter, "Were you fantasizing about sex?" He wasn't going to let this go! Goddamn it! I'm running out of ways to skirt the topic. And having him tell me his dick was big wasn't going to help me stay soft, either. "Jo... I was... just..." I tapered off before I could even begin. I couldn't think of anything to make him let it go. "Yeah, I was imagining having sex. So what?" "Who was it? Dude you gotta tell me!" he excitedly responded. "Wait would I even know her?" he cocked his head, looking slightly up towards the ceiling. And then he looked back into my eyes and said "Is it even a her?" grinning widely. "No you wouldn't know him!" I blurted out tersely and way too quickly for my mind to find the right pronoun. I knew I slipped up and revealed too much the instant I said it. My lips puckered as I watched Jolias's face as his eyes went wide, but he kept that stinking grin. "I mean, her-- I meant to say her-- it's a she--" "It's okay, dude, I had a feeling." Jolias stopped me from continuing to stammer like an idiot. But now it seemed there was no convincing him otherwise, not that it wasn't even true. "H-how... could you have a feeling? You only just met me," I muttered, my eyes diverting to the tabletop. "Guys like us, dude, we just tend to know sometimes. We get a feeling. Don't you?" I honestly didn't know what he was talking about. I've never possessed the ability to look at another dude and just know or at least have a strong suspicion that he was gay. "No, I've never been able to..." I trailed off. I just realized he said 'guys like us'... "Wait. Did you just say 'like us', as in... you're gay, too?" I quietly said, looking into his face. He nodded, fidgeting a little with his hands. "Shit," I breathed, somewhat relieved but surprised at the same time. That's two for three so far. I'd initially believed he'd never want to socialize with me, ever. I was wrong about that one. And then I believed he couldn't possibly be gay. That's another wrong idea. Now, all that's left is... nah. No way I'd be so lucky he'd actually be into me, too. "So who were you daydreaming about?" Oh for fuck's sake. "I, uh, did say you wouldn't know him, didn't I?" "Ohhh, right," he said, a certain playfulness in his voice. I reached my hand out to grab the check. As soon as I had it within my grasp, Jolias dropped his hand onto mine. His hand was surprisingly soft. I looked into his face and he into mine. I figured he was going to argue over who should pay it. I was dead wrong. "It was me, wasn't it?"

I wanted to start a short something, but it's already starting to draft all over the place... So here's some beginning, why not sharing? I almost haven't proofread it, hope it's readable. Don't hesitate to correct me, please, again ************ They didn't know it was love at first. But at the moment their eyes met both got struck by a feeling they never had before. Gunther was on his way back from the gym, and Jack was smuggling cigarettes on the sidewalk. Gunther was already a pro bodybuilder, living in his bubble, the shy 7'2 giant had no friend to speak of and his life was nothing but bodybuilding discipline. The smaller, scrawny Jake made a joke about Gunther as he was passing by. It was late and there was only the two of them on the street at that time. Gunther looked at the guy, the spell caught them, and Gunther laughed a little, as the joke wasn't insulting, and actually fun and smart. Jake, who had never seen a man so colossal, gorgeous, powerful in his life, quickly fired another witty line, as he was determined to try to extend this moment in the presence of the sublime God for as long as possible, maybe even interact with him. Even if it would be lasting a handful of seconds, an encounter of such mind blowing proportion was a chance of a lifetime. The conversation started, the wise and clever Jake skillfully extruding every single concentrate drop of his natural charm, and it worked quite well, as Gunther was amazed at how effortless and comforting it felt to socialize with the little bandit. Meanwhile, Jake started clearing his merchandise out of the ground. When done he put his backpack on, and naturally they started walking as their pleasant exchange went on. Jake was supposed to go in the opposite direction, but doing so hadn't crossed his mind the slightest : not a thing in the world could beat the necessity of drenching his own soul in the violent, intense flood of pure extreme maleness projected all around his body by the superhuman next to him. Not to stare drooling out of his fallen jaw at the miraculous demonstration of nature's infinite greatness walking by his side, Jake mostly looked at the floor on the way. Are that feet ? Oh gosh, that's... insane, I never thought feet could get so big. I could put a skateboard with each of his sneakers. Hell, he's almost bursting through them, I can see the muscles of his feet bulging through the fabric as he walks. Jake realized that he still hadn't seen the hands that went with it. Gunther had his hands stuck in the pocket of his huge parka all the time. He would try to fix this at the next intersection. " Gunther tell me, I'm rather new around here, St Charlotte station is over this way, right?" Bingo, Gunther took out one hand to point at the right street. As he was giving Jake directions, it occurred to him that he wasn't listening a single word, he was aghast, eyes popping out, stunned by the size and bulk of the hand up there. Gunther stopped pointing and exposed his hand flat in front of his new friend's face. " Yes, I know, I'm a freak." And put his hand back in his coat. Jake poked fun at him. " Oh my poor man, you're as tall as it gets, built like a barn, packed with fucking humongous muscles overflowing everywhere, the idol of millions of people, the dream of every woman, and your hands are too big what a shame. - Hehe, oh, OK, forget it." Now he had a smile on his face. Cool. Jake had never felt attracted to a man before. Not sexually attracted mind you, but this went way further than likeness and early friendship. Along with a loud and raspy cloud of solid body odor you could cut through. There could be no one else on earth but Gunther, this grotesque overload of explosive male power to unleash a stench of this amplitude over his surroundings. Jake was floating in a daze from this exquisite, divine perfume. In front of Gunther's house they said goodbye, exchanging their numbers. Once inside, Gunther stared at the note and he felt bad. He didn't want to let Jake go. It would have been kinda weird to invite him in his house. Around 1 AM, as he couldn't sleep, Gunther was staring at his phone. He wasn't sleeping, in fact, because he had been hesitating to call Jake for the last three hours. And now it was far to late to call him anyway, so that was a blunt point. Yet, every fiber of his muscles was dying to call and talk to Jack. Waiting even more would make things even worse... OK he had set his mind now, he feverishly dialed Jack's number, and when he pressed the call button the phone started ringing. With the same number on the screen... It was Jake calling him. They spent the night over the phone. Gunther called jack again just before noon after his training, during three hours, and around 7PM Jake called Gunther, until 11:17, when his battery went dead. They became inseparable. Jake stopped his wheeling and dealing habits as Gunther didn't like it so much, so he found a job in a e-cig shop. The cool thing is he had found a way to modify his shift schedule so Gunther could come have lunch with him every day, and after work, if went to Gunther's gym and waited for him outside. It was a very exclusive gym and Jake couldn't get in. Then they would usually spend the evening at Gunther's home. Jake once told Gunther that if he didn't take his shower at the gym, it would shorten his wait. Gunther really didn't feel like changing his routine, as the routine was all he had in his life before Jake ; but that question was a no brainer, if something could please Jake in any way, Gunther would instantly comply and do whatever it takes to make it happen, so that slight change wasn't a big deal. Not a big deal for Gunther, but that was a smart move from Jake, if a bit slyly : this way, not only he could enjoy the full intensity of his friend's muscle sweat smell he loved so much on the way home, but also, having Gunther showering at home led every night, to the most amazing, exclusive, breathtaking event that could ever exist, the emergence of the greatest and disturbingly monumental celebration of the supreme magnificence that could only be obtained by the male bodybuilder featuring the most revolting abuse of muscular hypertrophy overkill, emphasized by the fantastic pump provided by the unreal workout that ended minutes ago. The giant's powerful and respect commanding bare feet, deeply planted in the soft thickness of the room's carpeting, that was sprinkled, in a large area around them, by water dripping from the soaking wet and glistening body gloriously naked except for the small towel he held around his waist. As Jake's gaze lingered upwards, relishing the divine accumulation of muscular heaps, each more fascinating and delicious that next, the formidable Gunther waited patiently for his deer friend to fully feast his adoring eyes and slobber over all of this overwhelmingly luscious and monstrously abusive muscular profusion. When Jake's stare finally reached the head that was almost at the top of the mountain of muscle, he was rewarded by the perfect, broad smile that was up there for him, on a face that was so manly, so powerful, so handsome that it was also unreal, and the kindest look in the eyes of his beloved Gunther, who then said something in the like of "It really feels great, thank you buddy !" - and then went back in the bathroom putting on fresh clothes. Soon, the evening at Gunther's went from being a regular occurrence to an every day routine, as they became more and more intimate with each other, Gunther bothered less and less to get dressed after his shower, and went directly sitting on the couch next to his little friend, and the towel never stayed tied around his waist for very long, and they spent hours every night watching stuff on TV, but chatting mostly about nothing and everything, sharing, laughing, and opening their hearts. Offering the contact of his naked body to Jake, as he was sitting next to him, felt a bit weird to Gunther the first few times. And it had to be this way, as Gunther's body filled almost all of the couch when he was sitting in it, so there was no way to avoid physical contact even if they had tried to. But Gunther made that move because he was loving his friend Jake so much. Jake had lit up his life, he even wondered how he could have been making through it before meeting him. Gunther had always considered himself uninteresting and bland as a person, unworthy of anyone respect not attention, and clearly that was his motivation when he dedicated his life to hardcore bodybuilding, he wanted some people to notice him, and exist. It never really worked, as he was still withdrawn socially. He thought it would make him a King, popular, and get lots of girls, but it didn't work that way. In fact, the more noticeable he became, the more he felt the need to be discreet and non-existent. Sure, girls have shown interest in him, quite aggressively sometimes even, but he was very uncomfortable with it, and shied away from it. He got to the conclusion that maybe he wasn't interested in girls so much, it seemed. He was uncomfortable with anyone giving him too much attention. So, that intense, profound friendship he had with Jake, something he had never felt before, and the best feeling he ever had, was so unique and miraculous, Gunther was terrified at the idea of loosing this. He knew, and there was no way around it, it was bound to happen, and he was baffled that it hadn't already, some day Jake would realize how uninteresting, shallow, unworthy and utterly stupid Gunther was, and then move on and set sail. Jake was so smart, quick, fun, charming, Gunther had no idea how to keep up with Jake, and didn't what to do. Jake was politely having conversations with him, but Gunther knew that he couldn't contribute much, there was no way anything he would say could be anything but laughably stupid and boring and useless, as Jake enlightened and impressed him every second. Sometimes Gunther thought of something to say that might be of interest, or a relevant question, but didn't dare to let it out, as it would certainly have the opposite effect and expose his stupidity and ignorance even more. Jake could feel that Gunther was uneasy and nervous at these moments, and tried to encourage the man to share his thoughts. Not pressing him by any means, but through a comforting, welcoming attitude. And each time Gunther finally expressed thoughts about the subject at hand, Jake listened attentively, and showed great interest in Gunther's input, praising the wisdom and pertinence of Gunther's observations. Gunther didn't really believe that Jake was mocking him, although he couldn't help considering the eventuality ; or if Jake was probably just being the adorable, delightful, delicious man that he was. Yet Gunther felt inadequate, useless, unable to please Jake. On the other hand, Gunther had noticed some strange behavior Jake had sometimes... He would have his eyes almost popping out of their sockets, a trickle of saliva continuously pouring down his dropped jaw, his hands wildly shaking, awestruck when Gunther was kinda close to him. From there, after hours and hours of intense reflection, Gunther had a stroke of pure genius. The most clever idea he had ever come up with. Gunther, his brain severely aching from processing all the data involved in this incredibly complex, intricate enigma. He decided to take a chance on the mischievous course of action he had in mind. Gunther didn't want to trick nor deceive Jake in any way, he respected and cared about him so much. But as Jake's patience and kind tolerance was about to wear off any second, he had to do something, anything, even if it sounded crazy. Or at least far fetched, as this was Gunther's plan : someway, somehow, he had to find a way to keep strong this improbable, unexpected bond linking him with that man. But how could it be possible, with no brains to speak of, and being as uninteresting as it gets? Suddenly, in the middle of a legs extension set, after days of relentless torture over this question, the solution sparked into Gunther's mind.