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Chapter 1 Chapter 2 <--- Chapter 3 ------------ A ghost form the past revealed Alex awoke with a start, finding himself in a king-sized bed with red silk sheets. This wasn't his place, that was for sure as he notices the window looking out over the city of Darkhaven. He sits up, realizing he was naked at the moment as swearing more so, starting to think he'd been slipped something. He remembers the night prior, the huge pale beast of a man who'd turned seemingly sinister the longer they had talked. "What the hell is going on?" Alex asked quietly to the large and well furnished room. He got up, noticing surpirisingly a check with his name on it with a rather large sum on it now. He picks it up and reads it, trying to learn even a little hint of his kidnapper. The name Thomas Righ stood out to him along with a an odd celtic knotwork seal. That was something at the very least though he still wasn't liking this. He held the check in his left hand as he walked towards the window to get a better idea of which building he was in. This had to be a penthouse from how high up they were... but that would put them in Obsidian Row, one of the most expensive towers to live in within Darkhaven. "Enjoying the view?" Asked the familiar voice of Thomas Righ. Alex looked over his shoulder to see that large, powerfully built man smiling at him while wearing just a set of shorts that hugged that powerful thighs of his, leaving little to the imagination with impressive bulge he was showing. "I... what the fuck did you dose me with? You can't just fucking do that to people," Alex said angrily as he tried not to admire the pale muscle god before him. He mentally swore at those words going towards this man who felt like his captor. "You passed out, Alex. It's usually what happens after the first time a Familiar drinks their master's blood. I brought you home to make sure you rested," Thomas replied as he walks in and over towards Alex. "Rest assured, unlike you I do have some honor. I wouldn't do more without your consent despite how much I might desire you." Alex glares more so as he looks on at Thomas, wanting to strike out at the big man. He wasn't afraid of him, pretty sure he knew more about martial arts than the big guy despite how comfortably he moved with all that size. Finally he can't help but cut loose, throwing a punch at Thomas. His fist connects with his left cheek and turns the big man's head, but that was it. Thomas didn't budge aside from that as if the pain wasn't a concern. "Feel better now?" Thomas asked as he kept his head turns though his gaze shifted back to Alex. It was unnerving, the big guy hadn't even bothered to stop him. "What... what the hell? That should have laid you out or at least staggered you..." Alex said as he pulled his hand away from Thomas' cheek. There was some bruising that started to mar his perfect pale skin but that was starting to fade away. Alex frowns more so now as he took in the words from the night before. He recalled it all right up to his passing out with surprising clarity. Something about the blood of a vampire. "If I was operating by mortal standards, it would have. Sadly, I'm afraid I don't get to play by those rules anymore," Thomas says almost angrily as he turns to fully face Alex again. "I went to a very dark place when you showed me the sort of person you really were two years ago, Alex. I was almost swallowed whole by the darkness of my own depression that I couldn't even count on a fucking bodybuilder to help me with the steps needed to make better choices for my health." Alex stepped back some now, seeing those icy blue eyes boring into him with what could only be called hatred. The large man's muscles bunched, he almost seemed to get larger as his veins all pulsed out under his pale skin. Alex looked at that face and considered it more so as he realized Thomas... had been a client. One of those he'd gotten money off of and then basically not bothered to keep up with like he'd said he would. It wasn't his fault, he had things to do. So what if he missed an appointment now and again... "I gave myself over to something terrible," Thomas snarled as his muscles bunch more and this time... he did grow larger. Muscles bulging and rippling across his frame as they swelled beneath his skin. He looked about ten pounds larger already as he put his hand to Alex's chest and pushed him against the window. "I left myself be taken because it was clear people like you weren't going to help me. Perhaps I was too weak, unwilling to go it alone but it didn't matter. They had been watching me because of it, looking for the time to recruit me. Immortality even at the price I pay is hard to turn down, Alex." He leans in close, his breath against Alex's cheek as his pecs press into him. The rage in those eyes were real but Thomas seemed still in control despite something within him trying to come out and take control. Thomas' flesh was chilly like his grip the night before but nothing one couldn't get over. Alex felt an odd mixture of feelings welling up within him as the muscular vampire pinned him like that. His hand went to the big man's waist, thumbs rolling over those big abs some as the vampire pressed close. Thomas' strong hand running along Alex's arms some now. "I've wanted to explore you for some time. I had a crush on you, did you know that? You were so nice, seemingly helpful and encouraging until you let you mask slip. It hurts having someone you look up to prove to be perhaps a bigger monster, crushing the hopes of those seeking help. The damage you've done to people will forever outstrip what I've done to you. If you play your cards right, you'll become the greatest bodybuilder in history with me," Thomas said as his rage subsided more for his delight as your flexed your arms for him. Flexing your chest into the big man to push him back some as you start to feel yourself easily pumping up again. That stuff you'd given him was still working.... "I don't understand what's happening to me," Alex said as he pumped the big vampire for more details. Working himself up bigger and more impressive to make Thomas more pliant and willing to give him information. Thomas smiles knowingly but explores anyways as Alex swells against him. His bulge stirring against Alex's exposed cock which started to react the same. Alex didn't really do guys but Thomas seemed to be doing it for him, the sense of power and certainty mixed with his odd restraint from simply taking Alex. "You're my Familiar. A human bonded to a vampire by blood. My blood is... improving you. Making up for the natural flaws humanity deals with and perhaps doing more. Look at you swelling, 20 lbs bigger. You trying to outgrow me?" Thomas replied with a teasing tone as he admires Alex pumping up bigger. He steps back, giving Alex more space almost invitingly as if daring him to push bigger. Alex blinks some but smirks and starts to flex more, muscles swelling still larger as he pants and strains. He oddly felt himself rising up some as well as his frame seemed to expand taller to channel his hunger for size. This was insane and intense beyond anything he had ever experienced before. He had gone from his natural impressive build to one far larger now, growing larger until he was eye to eye with Thomas, easily his equal as a 250 lbs monster of muscle himself. He gives a cocky grin and presses his pecs into Thomas' "Fuck, I have to say that I'm liking this part of the blood. But what stops me from just... outgrowing you?" Alex sneered now as he strains and swells a bit more. His pecs push Thomas' back as his visibly expand a bit larger than his would-be master. Thomas just watches calmly, not betraying panic nor pleasure as the arrogant bodybuilder pumps larger, inching up on him as his shoulders broaden. "Fuck yeah, 260!" He laugh but the smiles darkly and pushes harder, bulking bigger as his veins stand out like hoses beneath his skin. "Mmmm, make that 270... 280... 290.... 300 FUCKING POUNDS!" Alex roars as he gloats at rapidly outgrowing Thomas, flexing and posing some before smirking down at him from 6'9" now. "You seem quite happy with my gift, I'm delighted," Thomas quipped with a calm smile now as the bigger man grabs him and spins him with the ease of a trained martial artist to slam him into the window so as to swap places. "Now I'm the fucking boss, little vampire and your ass is going to explain who the fuck you are!" Alex demands as he presses Thomas' face into his immense, thick pecs. Thomas doesn't resist in the slightest, rather enjoying and worshiping the new big mounds of muscle. His hands moving to feel along Alex's big lats that pushed his thickly muscled arms out. "Oh certainly. I was Thomas Lind, a unfortunate fellow who'd let his weight get the better of him," Thomas explained between kisses on those big pecs. Alex's big hand on the back of his head refusing to let him to much else. So much for the powerful vampire. Alex frowned some as the name rang a bell. Thomas Lind had been a clerk in the city hall that had helped him deal with some title and license issues. They'd hit it off pretty well but Thomas had asked for his help in losing weight. The guy had been rather heavy set and was in great need of some help to motivate him to get rid of the bulk for a healthier future. It had all gone so well at first, Thomas paid him up front and they'd agree to some weekly sessions. Then Alex started forgetting to show up to sessions after the first few and Thomas seemed to grow increasingly frustrated. It was rather annoying really and when Thomas had confronted him about it, he'd demanded a refund. Alex had scoffed and told him to stay away from him, not having time for weak assholes who couldn't manage their own routines. "You cut and run on me, Alex. You took my money, gave me a few sessions and then... ditched me. I was devastated. I fell into a deep depression from it and I almost didn't find my way out. Honestly, I didn't find my way out..." Thomas admits a bit darkly as he finally pulls his head back now. Alex found his grip no longer there as the vampire glares up into his eyes. "So you can imagine as I teetered towards the abyss how I couldn't refuse an offer for something new. My patron turned me and for two years I've been learning and gaining in power. For example, the reason I'm not afraid of you even now? Kneel." Thomas ordered firmly as Alex felt himself start to obey. His eyes widening in panic as he remembered last night when Thomas made him flex. "My power over you is far more than you could possibly imagine," Thomas admits with a dark smile as he looks down at the kneeling man and put his hand on his cheek. "Now, get dressed and get out. You will return here tomorrow evening at sunset." Alex numbly stood, dressing in a larger set of clothes Thomas produced out of a dresser for him and exited the palatial penthouse apartment. He fled from there back to his place, but the entire time he felt the terrible compulsion of the order to return tomorrow night. He had to resist....

(An entry into something long term. I hope people enjoy. I'll read over later for grammar. This was a late night writing jam on my part.) Chapter 1 <--- Chapter 2 Chapter 3 ------------ Decisions catch up with us in unexpected ways. Alex was in the gym, working on his arms at the moment. He was impressive to say the very least, being about 5'11" and 200 lbs of sculpted muscle that you'd expect on an aspiring bodybuilder. He was focused at the moment on his current routine, oblivious to the fact that something or someone might be observing him and plotting a fate far out of his own control. The pale man observing him went unnoticed despite his own powerful build and the grace he moved with that spoke of a predator more than anything else. "Alex! You got a minute?" Called out Vince, the gym's manager, as he walks over to the bodybuilder now with a grin. Vince was in his 40s but kept up a strong build thanks to the perks of being in his position. He was tanned with a bald head, favoring t-shirt and slacks when not using the facilities himself or training others. "Yeah, what's up?" He looks over at the big man with a grin as he sets down his dumbbells for the moment. He was wearing a underarmor shirt that hugged his strong frame well along with some black workout shorts also hugging his strong quads. Alex wasn't someone to ignore in the looks department, but it perhaps helped he was a bit narcissistic about his appearance. "So, I've got a guy looking for a trainer, but he's got night shift work. You think you'd be up for it? He's wanting weekly sessions and is willing to pay the fees for that level of attention to his routines and needs," Vince said with an assured grin to show he thought he was doing his friend a favor. Alex found it a little odd how Vince seemed a bit more glassy eyed as he spoke, even if with his regular enthusiasm but blamed it on the guy being tired. "Seriously? I mean I suppose though you know I've caught some heat for deals like that before. I couldn't help that some things came up," Alex said dismissively of those previous events though. "So yeah, if he's got the cash, I'd want it up front like usual. If he can do that, he's got himself a personal trainer." "Great, I'll let him know. When do you want to have him do his first session?" Vince asked more so with a stressed smile as if something were bothering him. Alex frowns a bit at that but Vince said nothing else as he awaited his response. This was a little odd on the jovial owner's end but he again put it down to work strain. "Oh, um I can manage tonight if he likes. How about that?" Alex looks around the gym some now, noticing the rather muscular pale man looking on at him with a odd mixture of desire and.. anger? The fuck was with that guy? He looks back over at Vince who seems relieved at the response now as he heads on over to the pale man. Alex frowns more so now, not sure what the hell a guy that jacked wanted with him. He had to easily have 50 lbs on Alex in sheer muscle mass stacked onto a 6'3" frame with blond hair and icy blue eyes even though he swore they seemed red for a moment. "Alex, this is Thomas, he's your new client," Vince said as he lead the powerfully built pallid stranger over. His skin upon closer inspection seems more like marble with how truly pale he was as he offers his hand to Alex who felt an odd compulsion to take it despite some small voice in the back of his head screaming warning. Thomas's hand was almost frigid to the touch as he looks into Alex's eyes with a cold satisfaction. "Hello, Alex. I hear your going to train me?" His voice was oddly familiar despite the man's chiseled, towering appearance not really reminding him of anyone save his face though memory fixated on someone far less fit. "Yeah though why would you need a trainer? Looking at you, I'd say you already know what your doing," Alex said with a chuckle some as he watches Thomas give a dismissive gesture towards Vince. The owner obeys without a word and heads off towards his office before moving around the gym to tell the other patrons they were closing early today. People were slowly filing out while Alex frowns and looks back at the smiling pale stranger. "You would think that, Alex, but I'm going to be honest that a lot of this is from some life changes I've gone through," Thomas said as he chuckles some, flashing his nearly perfect teeth. They would be perfect if not for his canines being oddly more pronounced. "Trust me, after tonight you'll understand." Alex shrugs that off as he starts to lead the big man through lifting. Oddly enough he did seem to be less that well trained in lifting though he also knew some movements as well as if someone had perhaps did a poor job teaching him. That had to be one hell of a shitty trainer and this guy had to have crazy genetics to get this far on just dumb luck in his lifting. The issue was the guy seemed to know a few custom lifting techniques he taught which most lifters wouldn't normally have used. "Have we met before, Thomas?" Alex asked with confusion some after Thomas did a set of reps like he would have told him too... only Alex never said a thing. "Oh Alex, you have no idea who I am anymore, do you? Guess fucking over so many clients in the past years makes it hard recalling them," Thomas sneers as he lets the weights drop and his eyes go blood red. Alex stiffens as he looks at the pale man as he thinks about backing away but finds himself unable to move. "That's alright, we're going to have a long time to get to know one another." Thomas chuckles as he walks over and offers Alex a protein shake container. The mix was ready as if prepared recently as Alex notices Vince has left and locked the doors behind him. It was only the pair in the gym now thanks to Alex owning a key for his late lifting sessions. Thomas coaxes him to drink and Alex finds his arm obeying as he brings the shake up to his lips, downing it reluctantly until the taste reaches his tongue. Alex shudders and downs the rest of the shake hungrily as he looses control to an odd new desire, his feelings towards Thomas becoming conflicted as a deep sensation of desire emerges within him. "Wha...what was in that? Did you fucking drug me?" Alex demands as his muscles bunch, veins popping out along his body. He blinks more as his clothes seem to feel tighter like he'd just gotten a massive pump. He looks down at himself and gasps as he was indeed easily pumped up like one hard workout. "The fuck is happening to me?!?" "A bit of a gift to bind you in service to me. Did you know the blood of a vampire has some very impressive effects on the human body?" Thomas asks as he walks around Alex, resting his hands on those pumped shoulders. Alex wanted to throw them off but at the same time wanted to savor the feeling, to please this pale stranger who'd walked into his life in the night. "You and I are going to have a blast together, Alex." Thomas said, his mouth close to Alex's ear as he reaches around him to grip one of his pecs. Alex flexes in response to his touch and strains, his pecs bulging out thicker and heavier than before. Starting to strain and flex the rest of his frame as he starts to swell larger in his outfit, feeling the compulsion to show off to Thomas. "That's the spirit. You see what you can achieve with me as your one true sponsor?" "Fuck you, this is so messed up... but... I could be a major pro with this..." Alex said as his own ego started to fight him on resisting. Thomas had some secret to making him bigger and better, perhaps he could play along for a while and reap the benefits before dumping this beefy pale god...god? What was happening to him? It was like Thomas was worming his way into his psyche without even speaking a word on the matter. "You could and you will be. You are my Familiar. Now, flex," Thomas orders as he laughs. Alex obeys hungrily as he poses more, grunting as he balloons larger, easily having gained ten pounds packed onto his frame. "This is just a taste. It won't last, but you'll have some gains from it. Shall we begin the real lesson?" Thomas dark glee sounded in his voice as he flashes his canines again as Alex passes out, overwhelmed by everything.

Sorry for the LONG delay. I have been busy. Real life gets in the way some times. And I am also trying to change my health/lifestyle by becoming something like the characters and the big muscle men of this forum (Have a progress thread in the Watch Me Grow section if anyone has not seen that, not the hottest guy yet, but working on it), so please forgive me for the delay... I now present you with the next part of this epic series... Part 03 Gym Time Andrew headed upstairs to take a shower after Matt decided to head out to the gym in a rush. His body was covered with sweat and his muscles and bones ached for some reason, almost like he worked out all day, which he never worked out a day in his life. The weirdest thing though was the stench lingering in the air surrounding him. It wasn’t a strong smell, but it was something that Andrew also was not used to, musk. Maybe it was just Matt’s sweat and odor rubbing onto him from the encounter they just shared in the kitchen. As Andrew finished up in the shower he headed to the room he shared with his brother. He made his way to his closet and grabbed a shirt out of it, pulling it off the hanger. As he pulled it over his head there was a tightness around his chest and arms. “Weird,” he pulled off the shirt and grabbed another one, and it was the same tightness. He kept trying on shirts. Over and over he pulled them off till there were a pile of them littered on the floor around him. “What the fuck?!” Andrew drops the last shirt he tried on to the floor, looking down at himself. He finally notices the changes he went through. Abs he never had pushing out from under his skin, not much yet, but there was a definite view of a four pack as he rubbed his fingers across each stepping stone of flesh. His pecs were firming up as he moved his hands to them next, which he then finally noticed a ball of muscle popping out from under his upper arm where a bicep would normally be on a man that had muscle, which Andrew clearly now possessed. Andrew’s cock began to harden. He moved to his dresser and grabbed his swim shorts. “Might as well go for a swim with a body like this,” he pulled them on and headed out to the pool. **** Matt finished up his daily morning classes. All throughout his lecture though he kept thinking back to the morning he just had with his brother. That blow job was intense, nothing like he had ever experienced before. His cock kept getting hard thinking about it, actually popping out of his jock and traveling down the leg of his pants. He had to make several shifts in his seat just to make sure his mighty cock was not seen by his other classmates. Class had ended though and he was at the gym, eager to start his workout and get his mind off of his brother. Matt quickly made his way to the locker room and changed out of his regular casual attire, pulling on a tank top and a gym shirt. They were a bit awkward on his large frame, almost as if they were a bit loose, especially the tank top. Maybe he stretched it out over the few weeks he wore it to the point it was at this loose fitting. Matt headed out to the workout area, eager to finish up before lunch. He threw himself on a weight bench, starting his usual reps but he seems a bit off. Getting up he lowers the weight and manages to do a few before getting tired rather quickly. “Need some help, runt?” Matt’s buddy Dan almost appeared out of nowhere, grabbing the bar right in the center. “Come on, Matt. I’ll give you a spot. You look like you might need a little help today.” Dan was always a bit shorter and a bit less built, standing at 6’4” and weighing 285lbs. Today though, Matt seems to see Dan as a bit bigger than normal, almost as if they are close to the same size. Matt shakes off his delusions and continues his workout as he decides to take Dan’s help for the remainder of his session; spotting one another on their sets, but Matt tires out on each of his sets as the weight is a bit too heavy for him now. Dan wraps his arm around Matt’s shoulder as they finished up their workout. “Bad days happen, Bud. I’m sure you’ll kill it tomorrow.” Matt nods at Dan, a bit annoyed as they make their way into the locker and strip down for their shower. Dan moves under a shower head right next to Matt and turns the handle to start up his shower head. He begins to soap up his hairy, beefy chest with the soap provided by the gym. Matt watches on as the water sprays down on himself, his cock still hasn’t gone down all day from his earlier sexual encounter with Andrew. Matt begins to stroke his cock to try and relieve himself, the steam of the hot water making it hard to see what was going on with the two of them. Dan begins moving the soap down to his abs, when the bar manages to slip and slide across the floor. “Fuck…” Dan bends down trying to feel for the bar with all the rising steam and heat rising to the ceiling around him As Matt continues stroking, he notices Dan’s form on the floor; his beautifully sculpted muscular ass on on fours right in front of him. His ass cheeks parted slightly with a dusting of dark hairs pushing out of his cracks. As he manages to reach it, it slips out of his hands a bit farther across the floor. “Mother Fucker!” As he moves and bends forward, his ass flexing and cheeks opening up a little more and exposing his hairy puckered, spasming hole. Matt and Dan had fucked around before. What once started as bros in the gym quickly became into several sexual encounters, both drunk on their own masculinity and testosterone. Never had the thought crossed Matt’s mind though to do anything in the gym. But that ass, right in front of him, begging to be fucked. Matt’s dick was rock hard and raging with lust, there was only one clear course of action. Matt took a step forward, grabbed Dan’s hips, and slowly pushed his cock into his friend. “NGH, WHAT THE FUCK, BRO?!” Dan started breathing heavy, surprised at this quick action from his friend. He straightens up immediately, gasping in shock, his ass muscles clenching tightly around Matt’s throbbing dick. Matt pushes his cock deeper into Dan, wrapping his powerful arms around him, pulling his friend against him in a crushing grip. “You trying to drive me nuts, dude?” Matt growled in pure bliss. “You, bending over like that? Shoving that ass in my face while I’m hard as a fucking rock and trying to beat off in peace?” Dan snarls in protest. “FUCK YOU, BRO! I DIDN’T…” Matt slams his hips forward violently, driving his cock all the way into Dan with one brutal thrust. Dan gasps, his words dying in his throat. Matt pushes Dan up against the wall and starts pumping his dick into him hard; Dan’s own stiffening member slamming into the tile wall each time Matt crashes right back into him. A low groan of lust escapes Dan’s lips as he begins to enjoy it. “That’s it,” Matt purrs into Dan’s ear. “I knew you’d love this…” he begins pumping his dick faster into him, brutally fucking him against the shower wall, the hot spray of the water falling on them both as they grunt and groan in animalistic passion. Dan’s ass begins to clench tighter around Matt’s cock as a moan finally escapes his lips. Matt’s arms reach around, under him, and lock against his abs. Dan begins to push backwards, pushing his ass onto Matt’s cock as he begins to enjoy as he begins to really enjoy this sexual experience that started with Matt forcing himself onto him. Matt’s thrusts are vicious, like a jackhammer pummeling pavement as he extracts his cock to the opening of Dan’s hole before slamming it right back in like a piston. Each time, they meet each other half way; Matt pushes in, Dan pushes back. Matt’s balls slapping Dan’s cheeks with such force, it causes a slap so loud it can be heard across the entire shower room. “Uhn…FUCK… I… I…” Within seconds, Matt practically snarling and grunting in triumph, begins to fire his hot seed into Dan, driving his dick all the way in to the hilt as his cock literally begins to spasm and go wild, pumping a surprisingly large load of cum into him. Dan begins to tense all over, every muscle flexing as he growls and grunts along with Matt. As Matt holds onto Dan, his powerful arms wrapped around his torso, he begins to slowly feel his arms getting pushed apart. Matt looks down at Dan’s back in confusion; Dan’s traps are flexed hard, throbbing, and slowly growing bigger as they rise into mountains of muscle. Matt’s eyes widen as he watches not only them rise, but the section of his back begins to move upward as well. Not only is Dan gaining more muscle mass, he’s growing taller as well. Matt’s grip around Dan’s torso breaks, his hands sliding farther and farther apart as he lifts his arms up trying to hold onto him. He rakes his fingernails across Dan’s chest, noticing that it fels thicker, fuller. Even Dan’s ass around Matt’s cock feels different, the glutes getting bigger, stronger, the target zone of his ass rising further and further off the ground with each passing second. Dan finally unclenches his glutes around Matt’s cock, making Matt stagger back, pulling out of his friend with a loud pop. Dan stands still for a moment, slowly turning around to face his friend. “How?” He looks himself over. “Did you?” Matt’s jaw drops. Dan is easily three inches taller than he was before, maybe four. Well over 300 pounds of pure masculine beef, possibly 330 pounds, or even more. He smirks at Matt, the hot water of the shower washing over his massive muscles. Dan reaches down for Matt’s body, but Matt shakes out of his daze and rolls out of the way. Dan is much bigger now then Matt, but he is not used to the new size and weight of his body making him a bit clumsy. “Where you going Matt? HAHAHA…” His laugh echoing off the walls. Matt get up onto his feet, backing towards the door to the locker room, not taking his eyes off of his enormous friend. “Ah come on, Matt! Can I fuck you now?” Dan grins from ear to ear, feeling much more confident. He takes a step toward Matt. Matt grabs his towel from the partition wall and holds it against his waist, making it into the locker room as quickly as possible, now filled with more people changing. Matt makes it to his locker, grabbing his clothes and quickly throwing them on as Dan enters into the locker room, scoping out the area for his prey. Dan’s so confident of his new body he doesn’t even care to cover himself. Matt manages to get one last glimpse of Dan now in clear focus; he’s a fucking monster. Cock close to 12 inches long and bouncing like a compass as it sways from side to side as he continues to scout out the room looking. “Anyone seen Matthew?!” People just stare in awe, no one saying a word as Matt manages to slip out the door into the main gym area, fully clothed, as he makes his way to the exit to head home. *** Matt makes it back home, not sure what just really happened back at the gym with his friend Dan. Part of him wanted to believe it was all some hallucination on his part, but he knew better. He did not just see him grow, he had FELT him grow; right under him as he fucked him. The moment after he came into him, he just started to get bigger, and not just a tiny bit, but a lot bigger. Matt began to shudder as he remembered how Dan wanted to fuck him with that huge dick. Dan had never been so large before but now… he tries to put it out of his mind as he gazes out the window to the back yard, noticing Andrew in the swimming pool, his twin’s arms cutting the water with clean strokes. Matt goes outside to get a closer look. He pauses for a second on the grass, noting Andrew’s shoulders, how they looked a bit more defined, a bit more muscular. The wetness of his brother’s skin showing the definition a bit better as the sun reflected off of him. Matt walks over to the pool, setting down his gym bag. “Hey Andrew,” Matt watches as his brother reaches the edge of the pool. “You been swimming much lately? Looks like it’s doing you good.” Although part of Matt was wondering if it might have been something else that was changing his brother. “Nah, Matt. I just felt like going for a swim.” Andrew looks up at Matt from the water, smiling at his bro, placing his arms over the side of the pool. Matt notices the bulges in his brothers arms and shoulders as the water slides off of his brother’s body. “What’s wrong with you though, Matt? You look like you saw a ghost or something.” Andrew propels himself off the wall, swimming towards the other side on his back. Matt notices the definition in his brothers chest and the feint appearance of what looks like the beginning of a set of abs. Blond hair sprouting across his brothers arms and legs. Matt sits down on a chair near the pool, watching Andrew do laps. Noting the new muscle definition, the way the muscles move under Andrew’s skin with each stroke. He remembers that morning, Andrew drinking down his cum, and then thinks about what just happened to Dan at the gym. Clearly there’s a connection, and it seems like that connection might be connected to his cum. Matt stands up and heads inside, taking his gym bag with him and tossing it into the corner of the living room. He walks up to the second floor bathroom, stripping completely, stepping onto the scale. 285lbs… Matt nearly chokes. He was 300lbs yesterday. No one loses 15lbs instantly. Not water weight. Not muscle weight. And not fat. It makes absolutely no sense. Matt put his clothes back on and headed back to the living room. He takes a seat on the couch, staring at the TV, not bothering to even turn it on. Andrew finally finishes swimming and goes back inside, drying himself off as he takes a seat next to his bro on the couch. “Are you ok man? You aren’t acting like your normal self.” Andrew playfully punches Matt on the shoulder. “You came home from the gym, looked at me weird, and then just jetted back inside. If it is something I did, you can tell me. We are brothers.” Andrew places his hand on Matt’s shoulder, moving his other hand to Matt’s fuzzy, bearded cheek, turning his face to look at him. There was sadness in his eyes. “Hey, bro… We were born together. We have a connection unlike other bros unless they were twins like the two of us. Whatever is going on with you, I am here for you, and will always be. Matt looks down at Andrew, smiling softly. “It’s nothing, Andrew. I just had a lousy workout, that’s all. Wasn’t up to my usual weight and reps on anything. So I’m just a bit bummed.” Andrew doesn’t quite know how to take that response. It sounds truthful, yet it also seems like his brother might be holding something back. Matt wraps a powerful arm around his shoulder, pulling Andrew in closer. “Only thing you did was give me a great BJ this morning, okay? So don’t worry about it. I’m cool.” He rubs the back of Andrew’s head affectionately. Andrew leans into Matt’s larger mass, breathing in the musk and cleanliness of the shower he took at the gym. Andrew’s cock begins to stir again, now that he is so close to his twin. “Damn, Matt. What I would do if we were identical twins. I wish I was as big as you. As manly as you… even your scent bro.” Andrew turns his head slightly to get a whiff of the scent of his brother’s armpit. “You really comfort me.” Matt blushes a little, but obligingly lifts his muscular arm a bit, letting Andrew have some access to nuzzle his furry pit. Even though he showered just a bit ago, his manly musk was already coming back, due to how quickly he had to rush out of the gym and also his natural pheromone musk. “If we were identical, I suspect that we’d never get anything done. We’d be busy fucking each other’s big muscle butts all the time!” Matt began to laugh, bringing his arm down across Andrew’s shoulders again. “Since that isn’t the case, we’ll just have to make do, I guess.” Andrew leans into Matt a bit more. His eyes growing heavy from the comforting smell and embrace of his twin as he dozes off to sleep. Andrew content, and happy to know that his brother who he thought he had lost from when they were kids is slowly proving to him that they still are connected. Matt just sits there, listening to the slow breaths of his brother; sleeping in his warm arms, his head snuggling against his inner pec muscle with his large arm wrapped around him… To Be Continued... Coming Soon: Part 04 – Want Me, Want You

I've been having this kind of recurring fantasy in my waking hours the last week or so, so I figured I might as well write it out. Here's part one. More parts to come as I have the chance to add them. This is just set-up, so far. Once the growth gets going, I'm intending to take it pretty far. You didn't know him that well. He was the guy whose eye you sometimes caught. Glances exchanged in the food court in the basement of the office block where you both worked. Maybe three or four times a year - the slender guy with the cute face and the good hair and the nice little butt just curving out the back of those skinny-cut grey trousers, you'd think. The hot guy with the widow's peak and the jutting pecs whose wide shoulders are putting a hurt on the seams of that dress shirt, he'd think. Mark, you think his name is. You spoke once, in the elevator. Miraculously alone together, briefly, fleetingly. You traded names, a remark about the goddamn weather. Then - "I've seen you around." "Yeah, I've seen you around, too." That flush of heat where you both know you want to dive in, suck face, rip the clothes off your heaving bodies, nail that fucking twink to the mirrored wall with your steel-hard cock, but it's 1:00 on a Tuesday and there's meetings to attend, conference calls to join, quarterly reports to be revised. That kind of bullshit. But your eyes meet, and both of you know. And then the elevator dings and the doors open and the spell is broken and dull crushing ordinary life resumes. But the sexual energy flashes in the distance even still, like far-off heat lightning on a dry summer night. At least, that's what you tell yourself. Every now and then, that inner voice of doubt - Derek, settle down you're full of shit. Well - maybe so. But a fantasy's a fantasy, right? And then one day he comes over, in that damn soulless could-be-anywhere foodcourt, and asks if he can sit across from you. Well - naturally - you say yeah. Kid's nervous, you can tell. "Kid." He's maybe 25, 26. Just two or three years younger than you. But he's running his hands through his coiffure, he's fidgeting. You decide to cut to the chase - why let him twist in the wind? "You gonna ask me out, bud?" He looks shocked, but not offended. "Well, uh, kind of, actually. I was wondering... um. Your body... shit." "Yeah, it's a pretty good body," you say, leaning back a little, feeling the fabric of your shirt stretch and strain over your lats as you rearrange your posture. 5'11", 210, lean enough for abs. "I'll bet it is," Mark blurts, face flushing. "No, damn, I'm doing this all wrong." "Relax, bud," you say, not actually wanting him to relax. You enjoy how flustered he is. "Your body," he resumes. "You obviously know your way around a gym. I want.... I want to bulk up. I don't mean a little. I mean, at least as much as you, maybe more. I know I'm skinny as hell, I know it must sound ridiculous. But I thought maybe you could point me in the right direction, tell me which gym to go to, what trainer to hire, I don't know. No one I know is into it. They all think muscles are creepy and gross." You smirk, not unkindly, and lean in close, let your voice shift into something a bit more bedroom-y. "But you don't." "I don't," Mark gulps. "Fuck, man, I'm so nervous, just saying it." You consider him. He's probably your height, but he can't weigh more than 155 lbs. His clothes are well-cut, and you can see the suggestion of a good structure underneath. Good bones to build on. "I'll tell you what, Mark. You come to the gym with me this weekend, and I'll give you a little intro, just as a favour to a friend. You definitely wanna work with a trainer. It's expensive but hey, you're in this same corporate hell as me, right, you can probably throw a few thousand a year after this, right? I think I know the guy for you...."

Not exactly my wheelhouse, but wrote this at the request of a furry friend. He is probably going to post it elsewhere too, in case you happen to come across a similar story. “Hey Chad.” Chad rolled over languidly on the couch to face Andy. Summer had just begun, and Chad wore only boxers as he woke up from his mid-day nap. His prodigious girth bulged through the thin fabric unapologetically, his head starting to peak through the rim. Chad had been unable to work out for the past year due to his herniated disc, but his body still reflected his formerly jockish stature. While he had lost a fair amount of mass, he still had above average musculature and tone. His chest stuck out proudly above where his abs had been, and his arms, though softer than before, still filled the sleeves of his shirts nicely. Chad was unsatisfied with this, but there was not much he could do about it in his condition. His cock, in the meantime, was unaffected and made this fact known at every opportunity. He grinned mischievously. Andy had been upstairs working on a “secret project” for the last few hours, and Chad had already started throbbing in anticipation. As Andy strolled down the stairs and into the living room, Chad admired his lithe body and smooth, young features. His deep jade eyes held a playful expression. “What have you got there?” Chad said, eyes intently focused on what Andy was holding behind his back. Andy grinned in kind, revealing his red panda suit. “Put this on, for starters. I made some changes I think you’ll like. I’ll go grab the head.” Chad hurriedly started donning the suit, careful to avoid aggravating his injury, and had just finished when Andy returned. So far he hadn’t noticed anything obviously different. Eager to find out what Andy had devised, he placed the red panda head over his own while Andy finished strapping up the last of the Velcro. “Okay, now don’t freak out. The spell I bound to the suit is going to start when I say the trigger word, and it might be kind of intense,” Andy said. “What? Why would I…?” Chad started to say. “Zanzibar,” Andy whispered. In spite of Andy’s warning, Chad started to freak out just a little. The suit tightened around his body when Andy had released the spell. While the fabric wasn’t constricting him, it started to conform perfectly to the outline of his body. “What did you do?” he said, a note of panic in his voice. Andy just smirked and watched as the transformation began. Chad first felt a warmth in his groin that slowly radiated outwards across the rest of his flesh. As it spread, his muscles tensed and relaxed rhythmically beneath the fabric, growing slowly with every flexion. The suit continued to alter its shape to accommodate the changes. It expanded where his swelling biceps and burgeoning triceps fought for space on his arms, while it shrank in the waist as his abs tightened into thick cords of muscle. It failed to keep up around his torso, however, momentarily constricting his breathing. His chest pushed relentlessly outward, growing rounder and fuller by the second, and his back pulled the fabric in the opposite direction giving a nobility to his stature. Ultimately it caught up, providing the contour for his heavy set of pecs and fitting perfectly taut along the jutting lats. It seemed to fare better with his quads and calves, even though they were ballooning at an equally dizzying rate. His legs rubbed together as he finally stood again and took a few steps towards Andy. “What the hell just happened?” Chad asked, still in shock. “What, you don’t like it?” Andy said. Andy couldn’t help but appreciate the results of his work. He guided his hands across the powerful chest and down the row of abdominals leading to thick, meaty quads. He kind of regretted not making the fur softer than it already was; some of the changes were hidden behind the thickness of it. Even still, he realized he had overcorrected (perhaps on purpose), and Chad was a little larger and better defined than he had been before his injury. Chad attempted to answer the question, but before he got his first word out the second part of the spell had started to take effect. The warmth that began in his groin intensified to a sensation near orgasm, his head flaring and pre leaking from his slit. His eyes, though not visible to Andy, began to roll back in his head and he fell to his knees from the overwhelming pleasure. It was a few minutes before Chad came back to his senses. Andy was not really in a rush to help him, either. Watching this indomitable stud he had created fall to his knees as the result of his work had him more than a little hard. Chad then lifted his head and gave Andy that lusty look that the costume had been designed for. Andy froze in anticipation. They held eye contact for what seemed like minutes before Chad rushed in on Andy and immediately began to disrobe him between grinding sessions. “How does your back feel?” Andy asked. Chad didn’t have time for questions like that. He was too busy running his claws across Andy’s back and humping him vigorously. The spell had given him some prehensile control over his tail, and he used it to wrap around Andy’s waist and rub it along his crotch. He then threw Andy down on the couch, noticing for the first time the newfound strength that had been missing for so long. And he relished in it. Andy was now his plaything, a vessel to shove his cock into anytime he wanted. The look on Andy’s face was still a little smug, though, as far as Chad was concerned. That wouldn’t do. Chad picked him up from under his legs, shoving him into the wall by the fireplace. They hadn’t done this position since the injury, and now Andy felt like a feather in his burly arms. He started to frot against Andy through the suit, the firmness of his cock apparent to Andy’s bare skin even through the fabric. After he couldn’t take it any longer, Chad slipped his dick through the opening in the crotch. His head pressed gently against Andy’s hole as it begged for release from the confines of the suit. “You’re going to cum soon if you keep going at this rate,” Andy advised. Chad didn’t seem to be paying much attention. “Alright then, you asked for it. Heel, boy.” Chad felt something like a rope slide around his wrists, shoulders, legs, and ankles, lightly at first and then just shy of painful. He couldn’t see anything physically binding him, but he guessed that Andy had constricted the suit at those points to allow control over Chad’s motions. Andy descended to the floor as Chad’s wrists drew closer to his ankles, and by the time his feet hit the ground Chad was already hogtied with his knees on the floor. “Let’s just take this nice and slow, okay?” Chad stared intently at Andy already knowing full well he could not disagree. He was using the full strength of his new body to pull against the binds to no avail. The more he flexed the tighter the binds became, and it was only making him harder. “I added that command in as a precaution in case you got a little too frisky, but I think I like you better this way. It reminds you who’s really in control here…” Andy trailed off. Chad’s cock still stuck out of his suit, full mast and dripping with pre. Andy knelt down gently and worked the tip of his tongue across his slit, slowly lapping up the sweet fluid that flowed steadily down his shaft. He carefully brought his lips down to meet the head as his tongue slid further down the shaft until his entire head was held inside Andy’s mouth. His tongue explored fluted edges of the expanding head, which always grew dramatically as he approached orgasm. Chad still held every muscle in tense opposition to the binds, starting to moan involuntarily as Andy held him constantly on edge. It might have been a byproduct of the spell, the fact that he was bound, or just from the absence of the pain that had plagued him, but the motion of Andy’s tongue incited more erogenous sensation than he could recall ever experiencing. All of his conscious thoughts were absorbed in the ecstasy of that moment. Andy pulled his mouth off of Chad’s dick, making a popping sound as his lips slid over the edges of the head. Now that Andy had released him from his blissful stupor, Chad slid slowly back into reality. He managed to angle his head so that he could look down at his cock, still pulsing, and noticed that it had not grown to match the rest of him. With some clarity finally returning to his thoughts, he managed to blurt out his burning question. “Andy, why didn’t you make me any bigger down there?” “Christ, aren’t you big enough?” Andy replied. Chad started to whimper in protest. What good was this body if it didn’t have the cock to match? Andy couldn’t help but smile at the behemoth who knelt entangled before him, begging him for more. “Hold on,” Andy said, flicking Chad’s cock hard with his middle finger on his way to emphasize his helplessness. Andy returned a few minutes later with a large, leather-bound book, leafing through the pages. Chad was still in binds, fully erect, and as far as Andy could tell still growing. Andy flipped through the pages of his tome looking for the addition to the spell that he needed, meanwhile allowing Chad to stand briefly before binding him again to a nearby chair. Ergonomics were important, after all. Once he found the incantation he was looking for, he studied it momentarily and began to recite it softly in the direction of the suit. The musical tones that escaped his lips were low and guttural, like a toad attempting a song in bass. The hair on the suit stood up as Andy made the changes to his previous spell. Within the first few notes, Chad’s dick started to throb with greater fervor than he thought possible. Each pulse left his dick just a little bit harder, thicker, longer, larger. The massive inflation of his already gigantic cock was almost painful, but Chad watched in ignorance of this as his dick grew larger by the second. “Happy?” Andy inquired after Chad’s cock had stopped growing. If Andy had to guess, it had gained about a third of its original size. Chad just stared at Andy through his lusty panda eyes. The renewed pre flowing exuberantly down his shaft like a small stream answered his question for him. Andy grabbed Chad by his joystick and started again where he had left off, realizing that his fingers barely fit around the shaft. Andy could feel Chad’s urethra pumping in his hands as the pre continued to flow. A few precursory strokes were followed with an attempt at fitting the massive rod in his mouth, but Andy was having some difficulty even fitting the head in. He had probably made Chad a little too large, even if Chad was too lost in ecstasy to recognize it. Andy made a mental note of things to change for the next time around. Without warning, Chad exploded into Andy’s mouth. While Andy did his best to swallow all of it, the force of his spray was augmented by the spell and the greater part of Chad’s cum spilled out through his lips, leaking back down onto Chad’s cock and groin. After gently removing his mouth from Chad’s head, Andy licked his lips. Slowly Chad’s convulsions died down and the semen stopped flowing. Andy and took a minute to clean himself up while he admired his handiwork. Chad’s body seemed as though it had not entirely finished growing, and even though he was still snugly bound Andy enjoyed watching his muscles tense as he resisted in futility. Meanwhile Chad had not quite finished his ejaculation, and shot a few extra spurts across Andy’s face. Andy chuckled a bit. The cum he was wiping off his nose and chin was nothing compared to the volume that ran down Chad’s shaft and soaked his groin. Andy took a few seconds to take in the whole scene, and then decided it was time to come to a close. “Kookaburra,” he whispered softly into Chad’s ear, citing the trigger word to inactivate the spell. Chad was perhaps too incapacitated to notice the changes, but Andy watched as he returned to his previous size, his cock the only feature that remained hard and proud as it returned to its former stature. His arms deflated, his chest sank, and his back shrank as the magic that had sustained his gargantuan body returned to the suit. Chad came back to his senses right around the end of the transformation. He removed the panda head, still reeling from the orgasm. Andy kissed him gently, the taste of Chad’s cum still fresh on his lips. “When can we do that again?” he asked. “Any time you like, big guy,” Andy said.

Enhancements: Part One The Beginning It had been six months since Chris's life had changed forever. A nineteen year old college student, Chris's body had always been unremarkable. He was a wiry, average-height boy, his pasty, acne littered skin stretched over his bony, muscleless figure. He was mostly hairless, save for the few stray hairs poking out of his chest and nipples and his pubic hair, which he kept mostly trimmed. His butt wasn't anything special, either; although it wasn't flat, it was nothing compared to the asses on the porn stars that Chris loved jerking off to. It was on that day, 6 months ago, in fact, that Chris had sat in his desk chair, beating off and watching porn, when it happened. He had just returned from a short jog. It wasn't that Chris hadn't been trying to get physically fit- it was just that his fast metabolism and poor eating and exercise habits needed to be overcome in order to see real progress. He wasn't bad looking, either - just altogether average. Chris thought maybe if he could get a little more muscle onto his frame, he'd be a catch. But on that day, after his run, sweaty and a little horny, he returned to his single dorm room and decided to watch some porn and have a little private fun. He shut his dorm door, which locked automatically, and pulled off his mesh blue athletic shorts and his sweat through boxers. In exchange, he put on his white Bike No. 10 jockstrap - too chicken yet to wear it out on a run, but wanting to feel how his ass and cock felt nestled in the tight straps and pouch. After sitting down, he opened up his laptop and grabbed a bottle of lube, pulling up his favorite porn video and beginning to rub at his crotch through the knit fabric of the jockstrap. As he dreamed of being as big and muscled as the studs he was watching suck and fuck on the screen, he slid the jockstrap off, lubing up his 6" cock, beginning to stroke. Moans and groans of intense pleasure filled his ears as his headphones transmitted the sounds of sex from the porn video. Chris took his jockstrap up his face, gently inhaling his own musky scent, imagining instead that his own jock belonged to one of the muscled boys from down the hall. Through this blissful fantasy, Chris didn't realize he was ignoring the loud knocks on his heavy dorm room door. It was only after he decided to change videos - he wanted to look for something to satisfy his fantasy of getting fucked in a locker room - that he heard the loud knocking and shouting from the hall. "C'mon man, I know you're in there, I saw you just got back from your run," came the voice from the hall, accompanied by more loud knocks. "I really, really need to talk to you." Chris signed, recognizing the voice. It was Evan, a guy from down the hall. He pulled his earbuds out, looked down at his lubed up erection, back to the computer screen, and finally at the door. "Can it wait?" he hollered. "I'm in the middle of something." "No man, please! I'm having a crisis here." Chris sighed. Evan was a close friend, maybe even his closest; he wanted to know what was the matter. He quickly pulled on his jockstrap and shorts, wiped off his hands as best he could, and walked over to the door, his erection quickly subsiding. He opened the door, shirtless, to a similarly shirtless Evan. "Come in, then," he motioned to his hallmate. Evan did, then sat down on Chris's black futon, which was positioned in the middle of the tiny room, facing the 32" LCD that Chris had atop his dressers on one side of the room. His lofted bed and desk were on the opposite end of the room, against the far wall, and behind the futon. Evan leaned back, spreading out on the futon. Unlike Chris, he was a muscular guy, with nice, beefy pecs and thick biceps, outstretched across the back of the futon. He too, was mostly hairless, save for a few curls of chest hair and thick tufts of armpit hair, which Chris could easily see due to Evan's provocative pose. All in all, Evan was about 6', maybe about 185 lbs. It was he who Chris had been trying to get workout tips from, although their schedules had not really lined up much to be able to go workout together. Evan was straight, much to Chris's dismay- and Evan knew that Chris was attracted to him, as Chris was the first person he had come out to, back at the end of freshman year. But it was sophomore year now, a full summer behind them to clear the awkwardness of that conversation back in May, a full summer for the unrequited advances of Chris to fade in his mind. If you asked Chris, he would tell you that he didn't have feelings for Evan any more, but deep down, he knew that he was still deeply infatuated with him. And now, on this late September Saturday afternoon, Chris groaned, "So what's wrong." "Did I interrupt you beating off?" asked Evan bluntly. Chris sighed and pressed the question. "What. Is. Your. Crisis." Evan looked up at his friend. "Well. You being the expert on gay things and all..." He looked up at Chris, who was until these words sweaty and annoyed. "I need advice." Chris raised an eyebrow. He had gotten his hopes on Evan misinterpreting signs like this before and he wasn't about to let it happen again. Evan, on the other hand, looked like was going to throw up. He didn't know how to interrupt the feelings he was having, let alone tell Chris, a guy whom he had upset deeply for not being gay, this new development in his sexuality. "Well," Evan said, gulping. "I was trying to hook up with this girl, Ashley, last night over at Sig." Chris rolled his eyes. Sig was a frat they had gone and partied at a few times as freshmen, taking advantage of the free booze offered to freshmen the brothers thought might rush. Chris and Evan did not, and Chris had not been back since. Evan, on the other hand, had friends in the frat from high school. "And it was going great," he continued. "Until things started getting, well, serious. I just couldn't 'do' anything! I mean, it was like I wasn't attracted to her, at all. Like suddenly it clicked that I wasn't doing this because I thought she was attractive, but because I felt social pressure!" "So you had whiskey dick, big deal," retorted Chris, his arms folded. "You've gotten off with girls before, haven't you?" "No, it was more than that. I wasn't even that drunk. And no, if you must know, I have not gotten more than a BJ from a girl before." This surprised Chris. Really, for all that talk, Evan was a virgin? "So what do you need me for?" Chris groaned, thinking back to the porn he was watching and how much he'd so rather be masturbating. "Well... this morning I was really thinking about it. So I tried to jerk off. I pulled up all the porn I usually watch. And I realized that all of it had really, really good looking dudes in them. I mean, big, muscley guys. I think I've been jerking off to them all along." Chris sighed. He really, really could not let himself be Evan's experiment. After all the strife and sadness he went through the last time, when he came out to Evan, he couldn't do it again. "I know, I know what you're thinking," said Evan. "But this is different. Just now, I pulled up some actual gay porn. And Chris, it was hot. Like, crazy hot." Chris's cock stiffened a little to hearing Evan say this. But he knew better. "So you thought you'd come over to me, who you know wants your hot bod, to see how real these feelings are." This whole time, Chris's computer had still been playing the porn he had been watching, but just now, it must have reached close to the end, as the quiet tiny sounds of men screaming sounds of intense pleasure could be detected, despite being played through tiny Apple earbuds still plugged into the computer. "Go on then, bring that over here," Evan said. "I'll show you." By this point, Chris was too horny to protest or keep his guard up. This was a real, actual chance to see Evan, not just naked, but jerking off? He grabbed the laptop, putting it down on the floor in front of them. Evan pulled down his own shorts, revealing his thick 6.5" cock. He lubed it up, looking over at Chris. Evan was hard as a rock. "Damn, this is hot," he moaned. The two spent the afternoon jerking off, kissing, and sucking each other off. That fateful afternoon was the beginning of their relationship. A few weeks later, they would explore each other further, Chris and Evan losing their virginity together, as Chris rode and bounced on Evan's thick member. And now, six months since Evan learned his true sexuality, the two boys were going to take their relationship to the next level. --- It was a frigid February Friday morning. Evan and Chris had driven in to the city, taking advantage of their long 4 day winter weekend, to celebrate this milestone in their relationship. After parking the car in a large garage, the two boys walked out into the quiet streets of the city gayboorhood and approached their destination. They looked up at the sign of the nondescript shop front. In blue block letters, it read "Andro's Men's Clinic". In the window, a small sign read "Enhancements available here!". "This is the place," Chris breathed, pushing the door open, leading him and his boyfriend inside.

PREFACE This is the most discomforting chapter in the story. The one who doesn't recognize satire, when he sees it, is blind. I also want to thank Arpeejay for a discussion about bodyweight. DISCLAIMER The story takes place in a totalitarian society. Unpleasant political slur of two opposite kinds will occur. Likewise, sexist slur will take place. Violent deaths will be mentioned. If anything of this disturbs you, please be warned. Part one is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10522-the-security-squad-part-1/ Part five is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10576-the-security-squad-part-5/ - - - ”And why do you volunteer for this? You know, that in the past all members of the Security Squad were drafted.” I watched you inquisitively. You seemed to feel uncomfortable before my imposing presence. ”I saw the advertisements. You know, the ones, like, BECOME THE PERFECT MAN: JOIN SECURITY SQUAD or LESS OF A MAN, THAN YOU WANT TO BE? JOIN SECURITY SQUAD, and I thought, that I could perhaps give it a chance.” ”I see. Yes, we have had a considerable influx of patriotic volunteers, since the advertisement campaign was launched.” You squirmed. ”I don’t feel very patriotic. Not patriotic enough.” ”Don’t worry soldier. You will be. You will be fine. Your squaddiefication will take place within a few days. It isn’t something dangerous.” I was allowing my thoughts to wander back in time: How Brad and I, Bill and Sergeant Williams had been tested the days after our own squaddiefication a decade earlier. Bill and I managed to lift a 2250 pounds each. Brad managed to lift almost 1800 pounds. - - - I was hanging out at The Patriot with you and Brad. On our way there, we had passed by the usual political posters: ”Is your wife a secret Terrie?” and ”The Security Squad protects YOU!” The Patriot was officially a local ”member-restricted recreation association for members of Security Squad and their friends”. There wasn’t anything untrue about that description, but it didn’t describe the reality either. The walls were painted in black. Flags and recruitment posters hang on the walls. Sixty percent of the Security Squad’s personnel never frequented The Patriot, which could be a surprise for those, who only knew the establishment from its official description. When you and I entered the building, we had been met by the mixed scents of cigar smoke, beer, male sweat, anti-perspirants, moth repellents and leather. Brad and I towered over you, and I felt protective. You were so young. Comparatively small. Like I had been before my squaddiefication. Recently transferred to the non-enhanced segment of the Security Squad by the enlistment authority. Like Brad and me, you were dressed in the everyday wear of the Security Squad: Black t-shirt or tank top, black woolen army sweater, glossy cargo trousers of black leather (with a belt buckle carrying the crest of the Security Squad), heavy boots, patrol cap and a black bomber jacket. We could have frequented the place in civil attire, but we knew what the squad-fans wanted. Our arrival was met with approving cheers by the ”friends of the Security Squad”. ”Oh look, Chad! They brought a Squaddie-pup! He hasn’t been squaddiefied, yet!” I whispered to you: ”I told you, that you would become popular. Handle it wisely. Don’t let anyone beg you into something you aren’t comfortable with. They are the fans. You are in command. Remember that.” You nodded. Brad towered over you protectively. At 7’6” and 450 lbs he was a living embodiment of what it meant to belong to the Security Squad. Some of the recruitment posters were actually based on him. ”When the Lord Protector signed the Immoral Entertainment Decree and the Indecent Behaviour Decree eighteen years ago, there was initially some hesitation and uncertainty over how they were supposed to be interpreted. Two talkshows on TV were closed down, since they were known of making fun of The Leader. There were some discussion coming from The Leader’s religious backers about closing bodybuilding competitions, beauty pageants and wrestling, but the nationalist backers of The Leader thought there could be a patriotic value in those competitions, so they were retained. I have heard, that some un-patriotic scum fled our country and now compete for other countries, which is a disgrace. Oh, thank you Eric.” Eric, the bartender, had placed three pints of beer in front of us. He knew what we preferred. In several ways. Several other Squaddies — both squaddified ones and non-enhanced ones — stood or sat in other corners of The Patriot, but the major share of the patrons were squad-fans. The squad-fans came in all shapes: Short and tall, thin, overweight and muscular, but they all preferred a decidedly masculine style. All kept their hair short (in different ways). It was in rather general use among squad-fans to sport flags and other patriotic patches on their jackets. The jackets came in several styles: Denim jackets, bomber jackets in synthetic fibres, leather jackets — especially biker style jackets. Some of the squad-fans rode motorbikes, and kept old-fashioned biker style alive. ”Since what was called ’propaganda promoting a gay lifestyle’ was forbidden, there was an abrupt end to Pride events, and gay pubs were closed. The Lord Protector decided to turn existing same-sex marriages into civil unions, but he resisted any suggestions to abolish civil unions. His military advisors adviced him to not re-instate the don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy. Where you grew up, it was probably harsh to be fond of other lads, but, as you see, that is not the entire truth about our country. I’m happy to bring you here.” ”It is a relief after what I went through. This place feel unreal.” You looked at some old Security Squad memorabilia, and some black and white reproductions of Tom of Finland art. The convsersations in the room were rather loud. Drunk laughs from one of the corners. One of the squad-fans approached us. He was a buzzcut bloke in his mid-30s, and dressed in jeans, boots and a squad-sweater replica. ”Permission to speak, Sergeant.” ”Permission granted, civilian.” He gave the impression of usually cultivating a rather cocky demeanour in other surroundings, but, when speaking to us three, he behaved slightly shyly. ”Just exactly is squaddification? The results are, eh, very impressive.” ”Your first visit to The Patriot, mate? That squaddiefication exist isn’t a secret: It is obvious for everyone. But exactly how squaddiefication is done is classified information, I’m afraid.” ”Oh. Sorry for asking. I’m a great fan of Squads on Patriot Channel.” Squads was a reality series about life in the Security Squad. I had watched episode one and two of the first season, but swiftly dropped the habit. The content was extremely edited, and didn’t give an accurate impression about everyday life in the Squad. ”I would guess, that you’re not alone on that account in this crowd. Have you had time to discuss with other fans here?” ”Some. It’s new to me, all of this.” ”Don’t worry, civilian. You are among friends here.” More cheers. I looked in the direction of the entrance, in order to find out why. ”Hello Bill! How is the night going?” ”Awesome Joe. I have spent all night at Beer Burger Bar, and already shagged three squad-hags.” I turned to you. ”You see, my friend, Sergeant Tannen here, is into the vagina business.” I turned to Bill again. His 600 lbs brawn to his 6’6” height couldn’t fail to attract most of the eyes in the room. ”Three? Really? Isn’t it time for you to settle down with kettle and lids, at your age?” ”I don’t disagree with your lifestyle, and you don’t disagree with mine. Isn’t that a deal?” I turned to you again. ”Now you wonder, perhaps, what a confirmed straight guy like Bill is doing here…” You nodded shyly, looking at Bill’s bull-god physique. ”But we have a saying in the Squad. Perhaps you haven’t heard it, yet. The difference between a straight Squaddie and a bi-curious Squaddie is three pints of beer.” Bill roared of laughter. So did some of the squad-fans, who had overheard our conversation. A massive leather-clad biker had approached us. For a non-squaddified man, he was certainly impressive, and a life dedicated to working out was required to carry his outfit the way he did. I was proud of you, when I noticed that your gaze didn’t flicker. ”Please Sergeant, may I speak to the Squaddie-pup?”, the biker asked me. I acted the way he expected. ”Permission granted, civilian. Treat him well. Otherwise, I and Sergeant Smith here have to punish you.” The biker shuddered, but perhaps not purely out of fear. ”When will you become squaddified, Sir”, he asked you. ”In two days. Why do you ask, civilian?” ”I would be honoured if you remembered me during and after your squaddification. Would you do that? My name is Chad.” ”Perhaps I will”, you answered, one part confident, one part acting. ”Do you allow me to make myself worthy of remembering? It would be an honour to make you happy, Sir.” ”I’m sure, that you know what to do, civilian. I’m a squaddie-pup. I am superior.” I could detect a small trace of insecurity in your voice. It would be erased in two days, I reflected. But the squad-fan didn’t notice, or he didn’t care. To be in the presence of me, Brad and you made his day. He began to unbutton your fly. You leaned backwards against the desk, your leather clad legs wide apart, and let the muscular biker become your willing slave. More drunk cheering from a corner. It seemed to make Bill horny again, and he had definitely bucketed down more than three pints this evening. He had found a willing admirerer, too: A bodybuilder type dressed in army fashion, having loop screws in his earlobes. Absent-mindedly I noticed a short heap of flyers. ”The Security Squad needs YOU! Ever considered serving your country?” The The Patriot franchise had been a success as a recruitment ground for the Squad. I supposed that the level of success, in that regard, silenced any doubts some of The Leader’s advisors could have had in other respects, but what would they expect, when they removed all inhibations from a man? - - - It was two days later. I stood between the Zythronic racks, wearing the helmet. Initially, the four of us, who were the original new breed of improved soldiers, used to take turns inside the growth chamber. Later, our group of expert Improvers had been expanded into twelve members. It was my turn, and I liked the job. The twelve of us Improvers reach some small improvements every time, even if the pace of change has slowed down very much. The initial transformation is always the most dramatic, and there is seldom much to add or change, but it felt good to be in the chamber again, exposed to the Zythronic Field, the Vril Power and the two other forms of radiation. This way, the twelve Improvers always were slightly bigger, slightly stronger, slightly faster, slightly better than the recently changed squaddies, and they treated us with respect. The respect we deserve. I watched you: A Potential Domestic Terrorist. We used to say PDT, but the civilians shortened it into Domestic Terrorist, and were very grateful for our work on hunting you down, increasing the security for normal, decent people. We had improved the processing routines, and moved the chairs into the growth chamber. You sat in your chair, and the arms of your chair ended with metallic knobs connected to the Zythronic Racks. You were dressed in your orange-coloured prison-dress, your legs fastened to the legs of the chair, and your wrists strapped to the arms of the chair. ”Are you going to execute me?” ”You are mistaken. This is not an electrical chair.” ”What is it then, you bloody Fascist?” ”Watch your mouth.” ”It’s not like you haven’t abused me. Physically. Verbally.” ”Verbal abuse is more common in the Police Force. We don’t have the habit of calling you Liberal scum, even if you are. As for physical abuse — some prisoners need to be disciplined, but not to the degree, that they would no longer recover. Our off-shore prisoner camps are a valuable asset to the Security Squad.” ”An asset?” You looked like you couldn’t believe what you heard. ”You believe in a cause. That is honourable, even if you are misguided. Men with principles, like yourself, would hold equally firm convictions, if they were patriots. Even defend their convictions, by taking up arms.” ”You may lock me in, but you are not able to change my mind.” ”Let us see about that.” No reason to slow it down or hold back. The green infusion was now administerable by a rather quick injection, and all three biochemical formulas could be administered by the chair. Perhaps better to ease any pain away. Our purpose was not to torture you, but turn you into a weapon: Into one of us, so I let the Zythronic Field trickle through your palms into your body at a modest 8% level. ”Ummmm. What’s that? Ummmmmm. What’s happening?” I didn’t answer. I let the robotic arms of the chair administer the chemicals. Then the wet electrodes lowered themselves to each of your temples. They always scream. Afraid of losing themselves, I suppose. It is true to a certain extent. Memories fade or disappear, but deep-seated personality traits do not die, nor do instincts and urges. I do not remember my own conditioning. It is just a black hole in my memory. When I ask other Squad-members about it, they tell me the same. We do not remember the conditioning. I guess you will forget this pain, as all the others have done. As we all have done. I warmed the radiation emittors under the floor up. Your chair was lit up from the floor, and bathed in a purple light. We had, by time, found, that doing it this way increased the conditioning. ”No, I…” Your mind was surprisingly resilient. I increased the Zythronic Field to 10% and increased the radiation from below. ”No, uh… uh… nnnnnnn” You struggled in the chair. I could notice the physical effects of the treatment, since you began to fill out your prison dress. 12.5% perhaps? ”Mmmmmmm, oh, um, mmmmmm” Close now. After having done this multiple times, I had learned to guide this process carefully, and the helmet helped me to do it intuitively. The sound of your voice changed: The tone of fear turned into the tone of revelling. Look at that neck of yours! You liked this. I could see it on your face. And your hands were becoming larger. And covered with veins. ”Oh, uh, yes. Yes, I comply. Yes, I obey. Oh YES! Fucking YES! Sir! More! Give this patriot MORE!” I was so happy to reward you with what you asked for. And this was just the Preparatory Phase. I was going to process you and the other two, later in the afternoon. - - - I looked through the list. The one who volunteered because the appeal to his vanity and insecurity. The pup who was sent here by the enlistment authority, and found a haven from his repressive upbringing. The one who was successfully re-programmed from terrorism to patriotism. The usual fare. As always, I was proud to squaddiefy you and the other two subjects. There would be no use of destroying expensive uniforms, as had happened the first time. All three of you were dressed in elastic mini-shorts, and nothing else. The Preparatory Phase had had its effect on you. You all looked fit and vein-covered, and your eyes had that familiar dim gaze. ”Soldiers! This is the best day in your lives! You will grow into your country’s finest defenders: The defenders of Improved Democracy. Unlike the inefficient democracy of other nations, slowed down by debates and never-ending official reports, our Improved Democracy implement decisions immediately, because the Lord Protector is given that executive and legislative power. ”Perhaps you watched telly a few days ago, the Prime Minister of Ruritania demanding: ”Mr. Lord Protector, tear down this wall!” But we know the truth: Our Anti-Terroristic Protective Wall protects us against terrorism. Our Anti-Terroristic Protective Wall protects us against unwanted foreign workers, who rob indigenous workers of their jobs. Our Anti-Terroristic Protective Wall protects us against killer clowns. We are the greatest country in the world, and you are the best of the best: You dedicate your lives to protect our liberty. I am proud of you, soldiers. Right now you are non-enhanced Squad members. Within a few hours, you will be full-grown Squaddies. Do you want to improve yourself for your country?” ”SIR! YES, SIR!” ”Then take your stations.” You grabbed your Zythronic racks, like the other two. I knew how the different bio-chimcal formulas were pumping in your blood from the Preparatory Phase. They just needed some more encouragement. I concentrated on the Zythronic Power. It began to stream. You and the other two were silent for a few seconds, but then began to moan of pleasure. I increased the intensity. By the help of the helmet, I could sense the Zythronic Power, and I knew, that the moment I awakened the Vril Power, I would be able to sense your feelings, shape your phiscal forms according to my will and share the pleasure you felt. I increased the intensity further. 65%. You were ready for the Power of Vril. I awakened my own Vril Power, activated the cannons, and my mind reached deep into your own, and caused your slumbering Vril Power to awake. Awake. Surge. Erupt. Consume you. And the Vril cannons bombarding your responsive muscle tissue. A shimmer of gold and bronze surrounded us, letting the Muscle Beast out. Letting the Power Being out. We were all connected now. I could sense your feeling of strength, of power, of confidence, of abandon, of delight and pleasure… Each of you reacted to the treatment in your own particular ways. ”So good. Fucking unreal. Like being Compton. Like being McCarver. Look at these! So unbelievable. Like being Agent Venom. Uhnnnn. Like being Bane. Can’t believe it. Uh, uh! Like fucking becoming The Hulk. Oh! Yes! The power! Can’t believe it! Uhnnn.” ”Oh, yes! Pump me full of it! Unit want more! This patriot can take more! Will crush all resistance. Will crush all threats. Demolish. Pulverize. Able to do that, now. The strenght! So much! Never too much! So free. Not responsible for anything. Just obeying orders. Keep it going!” ”Unbelievable… So good! Oh. Much! Couldn’t have dreamed… Nnnnn. Growing with my brothers… Defend. Protect. Uhnnnnn… No squad-fan any longer… No squaddie-pup any longer… Yes! YES! Squaddiefy me! SQUADDIEFY ME! Yes! Can’t believe it! This! And this! And the power! And the strength! And, uhnnnn… So hard. Uncrushable… Don’t hold back, Sergeant! Give me more! Want it… Crave it… MORE! YES! RAW, BRUTAL, NNNNNNNNNN! SQUADDIE POWER!” I knew how intoxicating it was. At my mere thought, the room bathed in purple, and, at another one, it was exposed to the relentless empowering influence of a blue shimmer. After the Preparatory Phase you had all looked like contestants in Men’s Physique, but, now, your well-defined abs turned into six hemispheric cannonballs of steel. Your shoulders became like bowling balls. Your pecs became like basket balls of warm, uncrushable flesh. Your thighs swelled and bulged into pillars able to carry 1500 pounds or more. Your waists were narrower than your thighs. Your calves looked like rugby balls. Your necks grew in power, your jugular vein pulsing under the relentless pressure of the muscle-building and enhancing forces. 90% 92.5% 95%. The machine working at an efficiency of 97.5%. I knew I had to concentrate on my conception of perfect masculinity, and the helmet would interpret my brainwaves into reality. Inside this chamber, my will was law. I held the all-powerful control of your bodies and minds. The feeling was more than exhilarating. I was able to form my brothers in arms into the fighting machines I wanted them to be, and they wanted to become. Perfect masculinity… Uhnnn. Felt good for the Improver, too. I wasn’t allowed to lose control now. Uhnnn. Despite it was tempting to just let the machine decide… Uhnnn. No, I was in charge. I am The Improver today, and I have to improve you. Yes! Join me, squaddies! Become… Oh! Yes! Become… specimens of perfect masculinity. Specimens of perfect virility. Like… Like Brad. Oh fuck! The chamber convulsed in intangible flames of gold and bronze, blue and purple, when you all absorbed the highest power level, developed your personal physical optimum and reached perfection. - - - There were a handful of things to do by routine. Blood pressure. Blood samples. Urine samples. You were given some time for shower. You received uniforms in your new sizes, and you were, of course, a sight for gods to dream of. Absent-mindedly, I was thinking about what the future had in reserve for you. As usual, the first kill had to happen shortly after squaddiefication. We didn’t want any inhibations to return. It would be inefficient for the needs of the country. I remembered my own first mission. We hd to suppress a potential terrorist threat. We stormed the building in the middle of the night. All domestic terrorists were sleeping. One of the women looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I had seen her before. I only dimly remember her chestnut-coloured hair, her green eyes and a dimple in her chin, because she cried out: ”Joe, it’s me. Why are you doing this?” It was very strange. How did she know my name? I shot the Terrie bitch. The mission was a disappointment, since no weapons were found in the terrorist base. Soon our new squaddies would be sent on similar missions. - - - I returned home. Brad had been busy cooking. ”Lot of paperwork, today?”, I asked. ”Yes. And you must have supervised a squaddiefication. I can see, that your traps are slightly larger than before”, he answered. ”They are?” ”I’m not blind, Joe. I can’t wait to lay my hands on those traps of your’s.” We finished our chicken and rice rather quickly, and decided to eat our apple-and-ginger pie later. We finished in the oversized sofa. Brad gave my traps a massage. The TV was on. The News reported that The Lord Protector had attended the inauguration of a statue of Berzelius Windrip. Then followed a re-run of the 2031 remake of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. We had seen it before, and switched the TV off. I reclined in the sofa, laying on my side. Brad’s back rested on my chest, and I let my right arm protect him. It felt strange, but it felt good. Brad was the most perfect man I knew, but I was heavier than him. At 7 feet and 500 lbs, I was able to lift him and carry him, if I wanted to. I let my lips touch his gold-coloured buzzcut, and whispered: ”I am inspecting the test subject.” I let my hand massage Brad’s right pec through the fabric of his sweater. He let out a whimpering sound, rose and removed his sweater and his shirt. He turned, and removed my shirt. We returned to the sofa, Brad’s back on my chest. I nibbled on his silky ear, and let my hand return to his right pec. With a playful voice, I whispered: ”As I said, I am inspecting the test subject.” I returned to my everyday voice: ”Oh. And by the way. Two of todays new squaddies looked strangely similar to you, Brad.” ”They always do, Joe, when you are the Improver of the day. Unless you feel especially protective of them. Two, you say? I though there were three scheduled for today?” ”There was. Do you remember the squaddie-pup we brought to The Patriot two days ago? He’s the one. I felt protective of him. He reminded me of myself before.” ”Let me guess…” ”Don’t say it. Yes, he became massive like myself. He needed to put some flesh on the bones, don’t you think?” Brad didn’t answer, but he pressed his naked back harder to my chest. It felt good. I knew what Brad liked, so I had kept my leather trousers and boots on, just as he had. I could feel the ravines and ridges of his back towards my powerfully brawny pecs. I let my hand slid to his abs, and continued to whisper: ”I am inspecting the test subject’s abdomen. A hard wall of bricks, nay: steel, is covering his lower torso.” Brad shivered, and I could hear how his breathing became heavier. I swallowed. ”The test subject is still growing and transforming. He is turning into a monster! A hero-monster full of hard, masculine muscle. Bigger than anything I have seen. Bigger than anything I could imagine!” I let my hand slide lower, and I could feel his rod throbbing inside the black leather. I fingered and pressed teasingly. He moaned. I rose, my left knee still on the sofa behind Brad’s back, my right leg standing on the floor, his body between my powerful leather-clad thighs. ”But there is a squaddie who is heavier than the test-subject.” I gave his shoulder a friendly clench, before I removed my knee from the sofa, stood with my legs wide apart in front of him, and let him watch my presence. Then, I bent my knees, grabbed Brad, and held him: One arm under his leather-clad bum, another one behind his naked back. I let my lips nuzzle his buzzcut again. ”And that is Sergeant Wilson.” Playfully, I used him as a barbell three or four times, and then returned to my ordinary way of carrying him. Brad moaned in his deep voice and shuddered in delight, when his behemothic partner carried his 450 lbs frame into our bedroom, the way as usual. I smiled. I loved to be a squaddie.

This is a story by Speaker from the old Evolution Forum written in 2007, which never got the credits it deserved. Sadly the story is unfinished and there seems to be no way finding the author now. Therefore, I am posting this story on his behalf, hoping he will see, like and continue the story. If the author wishes to take down the story, then I will do that. I also took out the liberty to correct spelling mistakes and revise a passage or two, as well as add a little bit at the end to open up for more possibilities for this story to be continued. Hope you enjoy! Help me find the author to ask for a continuation or permission to continue the story. ______________ "Paradise" by Speaker (Sept, 2007), revised by MuscCanon (2016) Joey woke up, not having the slightest clue whatsoever as to where the hell he was. He was content to simply lay back on this sinfully comfortable, warm bed, and just relax. Joey had no idea how he'd gotten here either, but he really wasn't complaining. He just had no desire at all to move. His bliss, however, was not everlasting. After simply lying in bed for what unkindly felt like about three minutes, he heard a voice above him somewhere. "So, still asleep are ya?" Joey had no desire to answer. Part of his brain wondered if he was drugged, because he normally was not this sleepy, and answered any question he was given. Unfortunately for him, that was not the part of his brain in control, so he just continued to lay there, mute. "Figured..." Joey felt a needle pierce his skin, and when he still made no movement, the suspicious part of his brain knew that there was something wrong. The needle emptied into him, and after about a minute of continued bliss, he stopped being so sleepy. He sat up and looked around. Whoever had spoken to him was gone now, leaving him alone in this cell-like room. There was the incredibly comfortable bed, a door, and lamp. Nothing more. Joey stood up, noticing while he did so that he was completely naked, which seriously embarrassed him, as he knew that there was no chance that there weren't cameras in this room. He put one hand over his privates, and walked to the door, where he was not surprised to find it locked. He sighed, "Wonder what the hell this is about." He muttered to himself as he walked back towards the bed. He sat on it, and given that he really had no choice in the matter, stopped hiding the fact that he was naked, exposing his average dick and balls to the free air. Normally he'd be scared in a situation like this, where he had no idea where he was or how he had gotten there, but Joey at least thought things through. Scared or not, he was here anyways, and there didn't seem to be any chance of escape, so why be afraid if you can help it? He hummed music, to distract himself from the fear welling up deep inside of him. The door opened suddenly, and Joey stood up, covering his cock and balls with his hand out of instinct. A man in a white lab coat walked in and smiled at him. Joey instantly relaxed, but he kept a hand over his crotch just to be safe. There was something about this man's friendly, smiling face that put him instantly at ease. It wasn't hard to notice that the doctor absolutely had to work out like a beast whenever he wasn't working wherever they were. His lab coat was huge, but it had to be to hold a man as huge as he was. His upper arms completely filled the upper portion of the sleeve, and even through the coat Joey could see some of the incredible definition in the man's arms. His pecs forced themselves outward from his chest, arrogantly pushing the lab coat out far enough from the front of his body that it almost looked like a table. Joey had no doubt that this man would have trouble seeing the rest of his body if he looked down, simply because his huge pecs blocked the view. Except maybe his cock, which was, although Joey couldn't see it clearly through the material, obviously exceptional. His thighs filled his pants to bursting, and his face topped it off. The guy looked like he couldn't be a minute older than 21 years old. He was a Latino obviously, from the tone of his skin and his black hair and dark eyes, but he was also the sexiest Latino that Joey had ever seen. His white teeth stood out perfectly from his dark brown, perfect skin. His black, curly hair was cut short, and he had an impressive 5 o'clock shadow around his perfect face. The man was absurdly sexy, the kind of man who would put Mr. Olympia to shame, while having the face and dick of the best male model in the world. Joey's dick immediately, and obviously, hardened fully under his hand. The man grinned, and said to him, "There's no need to cover that up. I get that reaction a lot. My name's Miguel, and I bet you're wondering what the hell you're doing here." Joey nodded, and the simple tone of Miguel's reassuring voice brought his hand away from his dick, exposing it's hardness to anyone who cared to look. He simply couldn't take his eyes off this man. Quite a large part of him wanted to put his hand back on his dick and start stroking, but he wasn't prepared to go quite that far... not while Miguel was looking anyways. "Simply put, you are in essence a guinea pig. I know putting it that way sounds cruel, and I assure you it is not. I'm one of the first people who was tested you know, and now here I am, working to continue the testing." Joey finally found the courage to unglue his tongue, "Yeah but what is it you're testing?" "In essence it's a combination of a muscle-enhancement formula the military has been using, and a sort of fountain of youth. Guess how old I am?" Joey guessed, "21?" "Try tripling that. I only look 21 because of the formula, but I'm actually 64." Joey gaped at the man, who didn't look like he could possibly be 64, but if what he'd said was true, then of course it was possible. Duh, he thought to himself, he just said that he was 64 and that the formula made him look younger, so of course he doesn't look like he's 64. All that thinking didn't stop him from wondering how it was possible though. "But if it's a fountain of youth thing, then why am I here? I'm only 18. Are you trying to make me younger?" Joey thought in horror of having to start puberty again if he was going to be shrunk. "Well no. See it actually happens by us injecting a sort of template into a person. That template overrides your genes for age, and muscularity and sort of bootstraps itself in, but it leaves the rest of your genes alone. Of course, everyone doesn't end up the same height and weight, but it's reasonably close, and the rest of your genes determine how you grow when you lift weights, even after you've grown from the formula. That's why we're all muscular and look like we're 21 years old. It's because the template makes us look that way, but the rest of our genes are in place, which is why I'm Latino, Antonio is Italian, Brandon is black, and so on and so forth. You aren't the first person we've tested who is younger than the age that the rest of us are, but the first person came through perfectly and we want to see if it works well on everyone. That's where you come in. Joey stared at the man. He'd understood almost half of what Miguel had said, but he at least comprehended the most important things like if he took the formula then he'd become a 21-year-old muscleman. He really didn't care about the rest of whatever Miguel had said. If all he'd said was 'We're going to make you a muscular man.' Then that would have been enough to hook him! "So, whaddaya think?" Miguel asked, "Do you wanna do this?" "Hell yes!" Miguel led Joey into another room, this one with an ominous looking machine in the centre of it. There was a large glass tube in the heart of the machine, easily big enough to hold two men comfortably. The tube was surrounded by other wires and there were other tubes that entered the glass one in the centre. He assumed, correctly that he was supposed to get into the big tube. Miguel nodded when he gestured at it and Joey got in it. He entered the tube and heard Miguel's voice from a speaker somewhere inside. "Don’t be afraid, but the other tubes are going to attach to you." As soon as he said that, the tubes inside the main chamber attached to his body. One to each leg, each arm, and one to his chest. He looked at them apprehensively, as they were as thick as two fingers in diameter. "Those are for the muscle mass you're going to be gaining. You're going to gain weight in muscle mass, and that mass has to come from somewhere, so we inject it straight into your bloodstream with these. I know they look big, but that's to get the growth over with quickly because I won’t lie to you, it's painful. Knowing that do you still want to proceed?" Joey nodded. He didn't care if it hurt if it gave him a body like Miguel's. "Ok. I'm starting the procedure." Through the tube into his right leg a small amount of a purple fluid entered his leg, which began to burn immediately. It hurt, but Joey gritted his teeth and attempted to ignore it. "That's the template. We have to wait a minute for it to circulate to the rest of your body before we can actually start the growth." It was probably the longest minute of his life. The fire in his leg, spread up into his dick, up his abs, chest, arms and even into his head. It was like being forced to stay in a campfire even as he slowly started burning. "Ok, here we go." He heard Miguel say Blue fluid rushed into his body from the tubes. Joey grunted as the fluid entered him in five places. He felt, rather than saw, his body starting to swell. He really didn't care about the muscle growing along his body at the moment. He suddenly understood what Miguel had said. He really did want this over with quickly. Through the pain though it was impossible not to notice some things, like how his thighs forced each other outwards, forcing him to adopt a wider stance. How his back thickened and widened, forcing his arms out wider. How it was getting difficult to look down over growing pecs. How his body itched as hair grew in. All those were easily ignored however at the pain. He screamed as his bones lengthened, and the muscle fluid just kept pouring in. The growth had only taken another minute, but it had felt longer than that when it abruptly halted. The door of the chamber opened and Joey staggered out, unaccustomed to walking with massive thighs. He looked up, panting and saw Miguel slowly stroking his really thick, uncut, Latin cock and staring at Joey. Miguel walked over and pulled one of Joey's thick arms around his shoulder. "Tired eh? I know that transformation takes a lot out of you." Joey nodded, still staring at Miguel's thick dick. It wasn't hard for Miguel to notice this. "Sorry but the transformation is pretty hot to watch, even if it's not so fun to experience." Joey managed to gasp through his panting, "Are you... gay?" Surprise filled Miguel's face, before he laughed suddenly. Joey looked at Miguel in confusion. "GAY?! Of course we're all gay! That's the one prerequisite for the transformation you know. I can't believe I left that out. You have to be gay or the transformation won't work!" Joey stared at Miguel, who was laughing so hard tears fell out of his eyes, and despite being riddled with residual pain (which was quickly ebbing), felt like the happiest gay guy on Earth. "How many people have had this?" Joey asked, not panting as much anymore. "About 100 now. We try to keep it relatively quiet, but it's hard to do so with a hundred 21 year old horny musclemen in one place." "In one place? So we don't leave here?" Miguel smiled at Joey. "You can anytime you want." It took Joey only a moment to understand. "Yeah I wouldn't want to leave either. Not with 'a hundred 21 year old horny musclemen in one place.'" Miguel slapped his hand on Joey's newly broad back. "Now you're getting it. Look you're probably exhausted. I was when I transformed. Just let me take you to a room and you can rest up a bit before you meet the rest of the guys." Joey nodded. He let Miguel practically carry him to a much nicer room than the one he'd previously been in, lay him down on a bed, and he was sleeping the moment that his head touched the pillow. ----- Joey woke up, energized. He noticed that he was sleeping naked on top of the sheets but didn’t care at all. He sat up and stood up, marvelling at how abnormally easy it was. Normally standing up really wasn't much of an exertion, but people usually do get tired of it after a few hours. Joey instinctively knew that he wouldn't. He jogged into a private bathroom, noting that the room he was in looked more like a hotel suite than anything, complete with a balcony overlooking some ocean from atop a cliff, although he still didn't know where he was. Joey stared at his new self in the mirror. He was huge, easily 6'1" tall and he couldn’t be a pound less than 300, which he quickly confirmed on the scale in the bathroom. His chest was absurdly huge, like two massive dinner plates had been grafted onto his torso, and adorned with a half-dollar sized nipple. The crevice between his pecs looked deep enough to lose things in, although he knew that was an exaggeration. His pecs were so smooth, there was no hair to be seen. This gaze led him down over his 8-pack and then to his cock, which hung at least half-way down his tree-trunk thighs. He'd noticed that it was hard to walk, and gazing at his thighs gave him a shrewd idea why. His calves looked as though someone had shoved a football under them. He looked up again, this time at his arms which hung out of bowling ball sized shoulders. His guns had to be at least 24 inches around, if not bigger. He went into a double-bicep pose and stared at the proud peak which stood up from his arms. Veins covered his biceps and his forearms, which were absurdly thick as well, even at the wrist. Last, but not least, he stared at his face. His brown eyes somehow had more of a lustre, a shine than previously. His face was covered with brown shadow, and he noticed that he really needed a haircut. Joey grinned at the man, and the man in the mirror grinned back at him. He swaggered back into the main room, even though there was a separate room with a TV, a sofa bed and a computer. Joey doubted that he'd use the TV and computer but he had to marvel at the computer. Before his transformation, he would have been astounded at the quality of it, but now he really had no desire to use it. He looked around but found nothing that even looked like a dresser with clothes in it, so he shrugged and walked to the door. There was a note pinned there. ____ Hey! Welcome to the community! I'm Antonio and since our rooms are across the hall from each other, they asked me to give you a bit of an explanation, but I really didn't want to wake you up. The rooms are private and are set up to allow access when it scans your hand. We've already put in your fingerprints so if you want to get into your room, just put your hand on the panel next to the door and it'll open up. If you wanna know more, just come across the hall. I'll be in my room until 6 tonight. There's a clock next to the bed if you dont know the time. Antonio ____ Joey read the note, and looked at the clock. It was only 3 in the afternoon so he walked out of his room, into a carpeted hall which looked like nothing more than a hotel hallway, with rooms stretching along it. He walked across the hall and knocked. He heard feet moving and the door opened. Antonio was the epitome of an Italian hunk. Joey had just undergone his transformation and therefore hadn't had an opportunity to work out and grow any more. Judging by Antonio, he had only recently arrived too, but to Joey he looked like nothing less than perfection. Joey had a fair amount of brown body hair, but Antonio's pelt put his to shame. Antonio's chest was covered in about twice the black hair as Joey's was in brown, and it only continued down Antonio's abs, surrounded an impressive cock, and covered his legs as well. Antonio's short hair was curly and he had, like every man here apparently, an impressive black 5 o'clock shadow around his mouth. His muscles were about the same size as Joey's, but his body practically screamed 'HUNK' to Joey. Joey stared, open mouthed at Antonio and Joey could feel his dick harden as he stared. Antonio only grinned. "Hey man I was wondering when you'd wake up." Like Miguel, despite Antonio's obviously Italian heritage, he had no discernible Italian accent. "Joe isn't it? Come on in!" "It's Joey." Joey muttered and followed the Italian stallion into his room. It was physically the same as Joey's room, but there were the unmistakable scents of man, sweat and a fair amount of cum in the room that only aroused Joey further. "Ah ok Joey. I'm Antonio, and it looks like we're the next best thing to roommates! I suppose you want to ask a few questions?" Joey shook himself, nodded, and asked "Are there any clothes?" "Why would you want them? We're in a tropical paradise, the room temperatures are permanently set to 80 so they're never cold, and all you'd be doing is covering up that glorious bod." Joey couldn't argue his logic. "Where are we?" "We are on a nice small island in the south pacific. It's owned by Dave, who had the original idea for this growth. He's actually only 30 but he's probably the richest person in the world. Inheritance you know. 'Course he doesn't look like he's 30 since he got transformed too. You'll meet him later. He was the first guy to be transformed and is the biggest of us because of it, although Miguel, the doc, is almost as big. Nobody comes here unless they're delivering food or bringing another person here to be transformed, and then they only see the front, where they see a massive resort for 'The rich and famous,' which explains why they've never met anyone who's been in here. The private beach is on the back side, which is in a little cove and can’t be seen from the outside. We've got everything here. An AWESOME weight room, all the food you could possibly eat, none of it junk food either so you can grow more. You name it, we've got it." Joey laughed. "Well that answers pretty much all my questions, but I’ve got another one. How old are you really?" Antonio smiled, "I'm 19. I was the first guy they tested the formula on who wasn't over 21, and you're the second." Joey grinned at Antonio. It didn't seem possible that a 19-year-old could have that kind of body, but then, he was living proof that it was indeed possible himself. Joey couldn't resist anymore. He reached forward and kissed Antonio on the mouth passionately. He loved the feeling of Antonio's rough facial hair against his own, which told him beyond a doubt that he was kissing a man, and that he loved every second of it. They broke off the kiss after about a minute and Joey muttered, "God I've wanted to do that since I saw you. You're so hot." Antonio grinned and muttered, "So are you." Then Antonio beckoned Joey to follow him. "I want you to meet someone." Joey walked into Antonio's bedroom and saw in bed, what had to be the most massive man here. The man had his huge arms behind his head, showing off what had to be 30" guns, and Joey couldn't even imagine the colossal chest the man had. The man's body was entirely hairless, save his eyebrows and a crew cut, but it only showed off his size even more. This man had the most freakishly huge legs you can imagine and they were covered with veins. The man spoke, "So you're Joey? I'm Dave, the owner of this place and the biggest fucker you'll ever meet." Joey was loving his 'tough guy' attitude. Joey walked up to the Dave's naked body, knelt and started sucking on Dave's massive cock. Or at least he tried. Joey guessed his to be about 14" hard, but Dave's had to be at least 18" and it wasn’t fully hard yet. He couldn't imagine what it felt like to have that inside of him. It was hard enough to get it in his mouth. Whilst sucking this huge cock he couldn’t stop feeling all over Dave’s huge legs and calves. Just a moment later, he felt a thick cock enter his ass. He didn't need to look to realize that Antonio had taken advantage of Joey's ass in the air and hadn't needed any more invitation than that. He released Dave's cock for a moment to moan with pleasure as he felt that 14" cock pounding away at his bubble butt, before he went back to sucking on Dave's cock with gusto and looked up at Dave’s face. His impression showed pure bliss. He must have been really enjoying Joey’s sucking. At the same time Dave was playing with his big nipples, which were hard and erect. It didn't take long before Dave's cock started throbbing hard and spewing a massive load down Joey's throat. Joey didn't know if he could swallow it all but he tried anyways. Suddenly his own cock began shooting its load all over the floor. He tensed from the pleasure, and that was enough to squeeze Antonio's dick with his ass cheeks and drive Antonio into climax as well. Joey was getting cum into him from his ass and his mouth and was shooting his own load as well. All at the same time. He was in the ultimate state of ecstasy. Nothing could ever match this. Nothing. He slowly felt himself getting fuller and fuller and started touching his muscle belly in shock. His ones flat 8 pack muscled abs were now replaced with a bloated but rock hard roid gut which kept growing bigger and bigger by the second. After five minutes of this pure, sweet sex Joey and Antonio stopped shooting. Dave, of course, continued for another minute or so before he too was sated. Joey grunted as he felt Antonio slide his thick cock out of his own ass. Joey released Dave's cock and stood up. The floor was covered with his cum. He'd shot at least a gallon, maybe two, and it was oozing along the floor. Dave looked at Joey’s new roid gut and laughed “don’t worry boy. All that cum will transform into muscles really soon. It’s the fuel that makes us grow. And by the looks of it, you have a lot of growing to do.” Just the thought of it made Joey hard again and leaking pre all over the floor. Dave was watching him, absentmindedly stroking his cock, which was hard yet again. "If you haven't noticed Joey, we can have sex pretty much 24-7, but most of us do other things as well. I, for example, am going to go down to the weight room and shame all of my other guests. Antonio, after sex, usually likes to go surfing at the beach, but of course, what you do is up to you. This is a pleasure island. You can do anything you want here as long as it doesn't harm or steal from one of the other guests. Of course, I wouldn't have brought you here if I thought you would do anything like that, but just to be sure, I'm laying down the rules. The formula is reversible and if you piss enough people off, we can reverse it, wipe your memory of this island and send you back to the mainland. I'd prefer not to do that, as you're one of the better cocksuckers I've ever encountered, and you'll look good with another 100lbs of muscle on you. So be good." He flashed a grin, and walked sideways out of the room. His yet again hard nipples hit the side of the door, which obviously gave Dave shudders and pleasure, as his dick leaked more pre on the floor. Antonio looked at Joey and smiled. "He's right you know. I like surfing after sex, but I guess I could be persuaded into a little more fun." Joey smiled back. He knew he could have Antonio anytime he wanted. But right now he couldn’t stop thinking about Dave. “Thanks for the offer, but I would really love to lift some weights. Getting my fully blown out roid gut down to a more reasonable size. Do you want to join?” Antonio was a little bit disappointed but changed his mood in a second. “Follow me, I’ll show you the way”. As both muscle hunks left the room and walked down the hallway, Antonio kept on pointing out who lived where and all the opportunities they had. Once they turned the corner, Antonio stopped in front of a particular door and obviously got nervous. Joey also noticed that Antonio’s dick got harder by the minute. Joey looked up at the door sign and read Miguel. “Follow this way, then turn left and take the elevator down to the first floor. You will find the gym right there. Don’t be shocked but what you will find there. I will follow you right after. Just need to finish some business first.” Antonio absentmindedly started stroking his cock. “Ok, see you around. Have fun.” Joey couldn’t stop smiling thinking about what Antonio will do with Miguel. Were they lovers? Once he reached the elevator and got in, he clicked the button with a big G.Y.M. sign to it. The elevator closed and slowly started going down. His head was full of ideas what he will find at the gym. But most of all he was looking forward to see Dave work out. Maybe he will be able to work out with him. What will Dave look like pumped? Is Dave still growing? How big will Joey grow? The door opened and what Joey saw made his dick rock hard in an instant. TO BE CONTINUED....

This is a short piece to initiate what I hope to ultimately be a long series. It's little rough and definitely/mostly a teaser, but I hope you all find the tale enjoyable. Comments appreciated! It is my freshman year at Ralley University, and the first two months have already sped by. Easy enough classes and independence have supplied me with the free time to finally indulge in some end of summer “causal observing”, or more appropriately, ogling. For the first time, I am surrounded by the hunky human specimens I have always secretly worshipped, and it is with relative sadness that the cold weather ushers back shirts and jeans to their sun beat bodies. Luckily, there is one last opportunity for some visual stimulation coming up. Yes, it is the week of Halloween. That means two days from now, I imagine some of my classes will be filled with scantily clad jocks, every collegiate costume picked to showcase the hot young body to full effect. Me? Well, let's just say I wouldn't have much to show off even if I did get an invite. My name is Nick Whitter, and today, my eighteenth birthday, I find myself as scrawny and weak as the day I entered high school; no, scratch that, I’m actually a bit chubbier. So, chubby and weak, and not doing much to fix it. I look at myself in the mirror and frown at my naked torso. There isn't anything particularly wrong with me; my slightly paunchy stomach could definitely lose the beginning flab and my pipe thin limbs don’t indicate that any effort has gone to them, but I’m not “ugly”. Just.. not hot. The only thing I have going for me is my slightly above-average face and full head of hair, attractive enough to make it by, but not be mistaken for an A-lister. The locker room I am in is empty, as I always make sure to use the communal bathroom before dawn to avoid showering with anyone else. The floor to ceiling mirror I’m standing in front of shows the wall of lockers to either side of me. About 20 feet behind, in the middle of the opposite wall, there is a mid sized sauna which can hold about three people; on the left is the entrance to the showers, and on the right, the door leading to the gym, which is opening… And Holy Fucking Shit, does my heart stop! Walking in, completely swole from what must have been a gruesome workout, is this school’s number one jock, and my own (as well as every other guy who has ever seen him) personally favorite thing to jerk off to, James Adams. With a strong angled face and beach blond buzz cut above a muscle-packed frame like some descendant of Hercules; if I say this guy is undoubtedly the world’s biggest, sexiest musclegod, I’m not being hyperbolic. As the door shuts and he looks in my direction, I see through the mirror his perfect face, glistening with sweat, is first at rest, before his sensuous lips turn up into a knowing smirk. His neck, thick like a marble column, twitches slightly as he begins to speak. “Well what do we have here?” His baritone voice drips sex appeal; I gulp and go wide eyed, turning from the mirror to watch this 6’4” titan confidently swagger into the row of lockers, making where I stand feel ever tighter, my eyes ever wider; my cock begin it's inevitable rise inside my towel. I mean, how could it not?, at the sight of this pumped-up bodybuilder in a chest tight string tank top, trunk like thighs rolling around each other as he approaches, nearly exploding the threadbare shorts he is wearing. Well, threadbare everywhere but the top part, where they are instead quite loose, given ample space around his tight waist; the material is, however, pulled down and away by the salami sized equipment he is sporting soft before him. The overall effect is the exposed base of his cock being displayed slightly below the bottom of the shirt, like some sort of genie’s lamp waiting to be rubbed and released. He has stopped his saunter and is now standing a couple feet before me, his massive legs straddling the bench that divides the row of lockers. “If it isn’t little ol’ Nick Whit. Standing awfully close to the mirror, let me guess: can’t see yourself if you step back? What are you even doing standing in the MEN’s room, huh? You really don’t qualify to be here, do you?” His left arm moves forward, and he grabs the towel I hold around my waist, snatching it away, revealing my chicken legs and 1” soft penis atop a tiny sack. My immediate instinct is to cover them up with both hands and blush. James snorts in derision. “You really are as tiny as you look. But you do just barely make the cut. Me on the other hand,” he gestures with his massive hand to his equally massive hose, “I’m not really ever questioned.” He proceeds to pat the exposed root, sending a shock and shiver along the length of his cock, bouncing it slightly in its tight enclosure. I drop my jaw at the sight. “Hehe”, he chuckles deeply, sending another wave of blood down my own diminished endowment. “Look at you man, you can’t believe how little you compare to me. I mean, I’m looking over your head right now in the mirror, and you know what, you’re not wrong to be in awe. Close your eyes and turn around,” he commands, and I immediately follow. I don’t know what is happening, but I have this feeling that I am experiencing something that is once in a lifetime, and I don’t want to miss out. I suddenly feel a slight pressure on my lower back, and hear above me, “open your eyes,” which again, I immediately follow. And instantly, I feel my cock leap upwards to full attention, a mere 4”, for the sight was something out of a wet dream. I was tiny, 5’10” and boyish looking, and standing 6” above me and 6” behind me was my fantasy realized. James Adams, up as fucking close and personal as possible. My entire torso filled just his midsection up to the bottom of his mostly exposed chest; his shoulders flaring widely like melons above my own shoulders, with nicely rounded traps leading up to his bull neck squarely behind my head; Jesus, it was so thick, it almost was visible in the reflection! “I’m literally head and shoulders above you, squirt. Honestly, it’s almost wrong to let you be in here, when there’s a bar to reach like me,” he brags, moving his arms up into a double-bi, his fists clenched powerfully on bowling pin thick wrists and forearms, and what easily pass as 24” guns. I feel an ever approaching orgasm without touching myself, gaping stupidly at this mesmerizing site, committing every single image to permanent memory. “Yeah, there’s definitely a bit of a size difference here. But that doesn’t have to be bad; I mean, it would be a waste to be packing what I’m packing, and not have some shrimpy dweeb suck me off when the need calls.” His words coincided with a slight increase in pressure behind me, as well as my realization at what he indicated: it couldn’t be possible.... My gaze shifts to his mirrored face right above my own, that all-knowing, uber masculine smile below eyes which meet mine. He moves his arms back to his sides as I slowly turn from the mirror, a small shuffle for every three beats of my wildly paced heart. I have to move away slightly as my shoulder presses on his shelf like pec muscle; my shoulder’s bony surface actually brushes his nipple and causes him to exhale shortly with another steady pulse through his member, and my heart skips a bit. When I am finished rotating the complete 180 degrees, I am not prepared for what I see; it is… it is… Everything. Everything I have ever wanted, there, right in front of me. A wide expanse of glistening and pumped meat not a foot from my face. The smell is just like I’d hoped; having never been this close to real muscle before, I am glad to discover that James’ scent is, while quite overpowering, also intoxicating. Like huffing gas without the after burn. I want every breathe I take from then on out to be filled with it. In my peripherals I notice the tightly pulled strings of his tank top, which is dark with sweat along and down to his midsection. All I want to do is stand here forever and never let this sight go, when a far better offer comes my way… “Let’s get this shirt off”

Sorry for the wait, back at school and its kicking my ass. Here's part four. It was gonna be one large part covering all of Christmas break, but I came up with too many ideas for Christmas, so its gonna be two parts. Thanks for reading. Read Part One HERE Read Part Two HERE Read Part Three HERE Liquid Manhood Chapter Four The Christmas Break had come, Thanksgiving had passed with Melvin leaving Chris alone with the elixir. Surprisingly Chris hadn't used it, and it appeared that the large jar was filling a lot slower now. The size draining jockstraps were either not being used anymore or had drained all they could. Melvin hadn’t seen any of the jocks running around, or he didn't recognise them anymore. Chris had vanished off one night, having locked up the jar with a padlock, so that Melvin couldn’t get at the elixir. He’d made them both promise not to take any of the elixir and use Christmas break to think out a plan. Melvin though was too curious about the elixir, so he’d learnt how to pick the lock It took him two nights, but he was able to get the padlock off the jar. He turned the faucet and filled up a sample cup of green liquid. He made sure he replaced the padlock. He even remade Chris’ bed after he’d messed it up by standing on it to get at the magical filled jars. Before Melvin left he searched the room for the leather bound magic book, he hadn't seen it in over two weeks. Chris must of hidden it, he knew he hadn't taken it, Melvin had pretty much packed Chris’ bags for him. He found a lockbox under Chris’ bed, he gave it a shot with the lock pick, but his parents turned up to collect him before he could get it open. Melvin returned the box and wrapped the sample cup in some clothes before gently packing it away in his bag. He locked up the dorm room and headed down to meet his parents, eager to get away from the dorms and out of Chris’ shadow so he could get a good look at the magic liquid in his bag. ——————————————————————————————————————————— He’d watered the strange cactus that sat erect and proud on his desk, he’d turned all his electronics off and even cleaned his room. Two bulging bags of empty bottles and candy wrappers were carried out to the trash only this morning. Sean’s PS4 was packed away. He wished he could bring his TV, but it would have to wait for him here in his dorm room. His one piece of luggage for the train ride home was more videos games than clothes. Mostly because very few of his clothes fit him anymore, Sean’s growth spurt was still continuing and didn't show any sign of stopping. He was already 6’3 and his body had leaned out, all the extra fat gone from his frame. His stomach was flat and he’d spent nights jerking off while feeling the light ridges of his now visible ab muscles. His hair was now permanently styled, even in the mornings he looked like he’d just had a stylist go through it with all manner of products. Sean’s skin was still pale, but like marble and completely clear of spots or blemishes. Sean was now getting a lot of looks, he knew whatever was happening, a second puberty or something, it had changed his face more than anything else so far. His lips were pouty and his jaw had squared slightly. The loss of his fat had allowed cheekbones, that Sean never knew even existed, to strengthen the bone structure of his face. In class he’d found girls giving him longing stares, he’d just smile nervously and they’d melt. He was getting a lot of people asking for tutoring, which wasn’t a surprise to him, as he was top of his class, just now he caught girls popping a button on their shirts before they came to ask him. The guys were a bit different in their reactions to him, he was getting invited to more parties and even a few of the sporty frats were making enquires if he wanted to consider joining. He’d attempted to play frisbee with a few guys after class once, entirely because of one boy with big eyes and ass that bounced when he walked. He was very nervous, but found himself catching the frisbee every time, even running to catch it. Sean had never exercised in his life, or even played a sport, but he was good at frisbee. He’d never played it since then, his sudden skill and athletic ability had scared him. Sean was spending all his time in his room, even though he now looked like the guys he jerked off over he was unwilling to try his new looks out. Sean zipped up his luggage, tossing a shirt with Captain America's shield plastered across it that wouldn't fit inside his bag onto his bed. He checked that he had his train ticket, it was in the back pocket of his jeans. Which were being pushed out by Sean’s ass having gone from a fat mess to a tight rounded perky butt. He gave his room one last look over, the green tinge that everything seemed to have was so familiar to him, he didn't even know that no other room in the dorm building looked like his. Sean left, locking his door behind him. A slow drip started the second the door clicked closed, a green stain started to spread across the light blue fabric of the shirt Sean tossed onto his bed. ————————————————————————————————————————— The house was emptying, the fraternity has already lost a few members, not because they had returned home for Christmas, but because they’d left the university all together. Danny had been the first, he’d lost over a foot of height and could barely run without losing his breath. It had been horrible to see him shrink, going from a guy who could run miles without breaking a sweat to wheezing after walking up some stairs. The college reacted pretty quickly, calling in many doctors. A viral disease that caused genetic damage, primarily bone contraction, hormone deficiency and muscle wastage was the official reason for the sudden collapse of the Lincoln football team. They’d even had the Center for Disease Control turn up, taking blood samples and running tests. They’d concluded it was something in the athletic department, so the entire place had been closed for nearly a month as it was deep cleaned and tested for anything and everything, but the damage had already been done. Coach Peters had suspended the football team and more or less abandoned all of them as he tried to rebuild from the slim pickings left on campus. Big Ben, or just Ben as he was being called now was probably taking the changes the best. He peeked out of his window down at his frat brothers being collected by their parents. The unaffected towering above a few dozen tiny slim boys. Guys of their size used to get Ben rock hard, but now his monster cock was tiny. He could jack it with two fingers when he used to need two hands. His tastes had changed along with his stature. Ben found himself getting rock hard around his still big frat brothers, he’d also spend every jerk off session of his with his face buried in his old jock strap. Sniffing in the musk of his old horse cock. Speaking of his new tastes, Yuri was on his bed. Shirtless, his toned swimmer's torso glistening with sweat. The taste of Yuri’s cum still lingering in Ben’s mouth. Ben had dropped straight facade and found that no one gave a shit that he was gay. Yuri was becoming a regular in Ben’s room nowadays, he was adamant he wasn't gay, but he sure loved to fuck Ben’s tight throat. Ben was holding out for the chance to ride Yuri’s Russian meat stick, but Yuri was the cum and go kind of guy. “What you looking at” Yuri asked, checking the time on his phone Ben turned and walked back to the bed, perching his slender ass on the edge. “Just watching the guys leave” He replied, his voice no longer a rumble It was almost musical, but only a few days ago it was jumping octaves, like his voice was breaking all over again. “You not gonna be lonely in this big house all by yourself” Yuri asked, poking Ben with a foot playfully Ben chuckled “I’ll be ok, got all those chores to keep me busy, Mr President” Yuri had taken over as Frat President, Barrett had quit last week. Ben was sure the diminishing quarterback wasn't going to come back to college after Christmas. Yuri though was very happy with the new arrangement, and seeing as Ben was the only one remaining over the holiday he’d given a long list of chores for Ben to do. Since around half the frat had almost halved in size the odd jobs had gone from being a ‘everyone pull your weight’ thing to a ‘do what I say shorty’ affair. Ben was sure that was a major part to why a lot of the football team had left college, they just couldn't deal with the sudden change in their social standing, Ben though was used to it. He had three brothers, all big like he'd been. He was used to being at the bottom of the ladder, though just not as far down the ladder as he was now. Yuri laughed loudly, sitting up and ruffling Ben's hair “Good boy” Ben blushed, his cock stiffened a little in the gym shorts he borrowed from Danny before he quit college. He still had to pull the drawstring as tight as possible to make them fit. “I’ve still got an hour before I have to leave for my flight” Yuri said, his cock rising up Ben licked his lips, his eyes running over the length of the seven inch dick in front of him. He remembered when he was nearly that big soft. “You want to suck a couple loads out before I go” Yuri asked already pulling Ben’s head down into his lap Ben didn't even have a chance to reply before his mouth was full of cock. —————————————————————————————————————————— Chris was spending Christmas on the Haber family’s personal yacht. The Gold Standard, a pure white ocean going monstrosity with gold highlighting. It was a triumph of affluence and gaudy taste in decoration. He was alone with just the crew and a gaggle of tag along ‘friends’ as company. His mother was in Milan with her Italian lover that she didn't think anyone knew about and his father was probably running the universe from his office in the Haber building on Wall Street. He was sailing along the French Riviera and had already lost what most people would make in a year at one of casinos in Monaco. Like Melvin he’d broken the promise not to use the elixir. He’d filled himself a few sample cups and was continuing his tests, still uneasy and unsure about the nature of the green liquid. Chris had already dosed one of his ‘friends’, a picture perfect European boy of noble birth for a title that didn't exist anymore. His family ran an arms company or something. He was Swiss, or maybe French, Chris didn't know, only that he claimed to be in line for the French crown. Jean was slim, short, but with a head of rich brown curls and bright silvery grey eyes. Chris couldn't deny an attraction, and if the boy was more interesting he’d might of made a move. Instead Jean became a target, but it had been the luck of the draw. Chris had dosed a glass of champagne on the first night he’d arrived in Europe, and it was Jean who took it from him. The changes took a few hours to take hold, firstly Jean appeared to be develop a fever. He was sweating buckets as the party started on the yacht’s deck. Then the exhaustion set in. Chris had even helped Jean to his cabin, the crew almost in shock at seeing Chris help another human being. Chris would pop into Jean’s room throughout the night, trying to keep suspicions low by still appearing at his own party. Each time Jean was different, he hadn’t gotten any taller, but he’d bloated with beefy muscle. Becoming a fireplug of a man, his chest and arms thickening with muscle. His curls got longer, becoming a mane, though they lost their rich glossy colour. Darkening to a dull simple brown. His noble features, chiselled from years of selective breeding were hardening. Jean’s forehead jutted out, his jaw widening into a solid square. Hair was sprouting over his jaw and a tuff popped out from the collar of Jean’s shirt, which was struggling to hold back his enlarged pec and shoulder muscles. Chris could tell that hair was growing over Jean’s shoulders and down his stomach, he could see the mattered imprint appearing through Jean’s shirt. Chris even had to pull Jean’s shoes off, the changing boy looked in pain as his feet grew. Chris less worried about Jean’s wellbeing and more concerned with Jean waking up due to the discomfort. Jean’s feet now free of their shoes had already burst through his socks. The tattered remains clinging to his ankles. The feet though were hairy and massively oversized for possibly even a 7ft basketball player let alone a man of Jean’s small stature. Chris had Jean removed from the yacht, telling the crew that some gate crasher had got too drunk. He blocked Jean from his phone and had the boat moved to a new mooring, ignoring the complaints of guests who were now a fair distance away from their hotels and cars. Chris hadn’t expected the elixir to cause changes so uneven. Jean had grew massive muscles, but had stayed short. His features had hardened but there was no grace or manly beauty to them, just brutish shape. Chris would have to run some more tests, maybe he’d made a mistake with this elixir. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Barrett’s world had fallen apart, his friends were gone, his future in athletics were gone, and his family were treating him like a leper. When he returned home last week Barrett saw his father’s heart break, his dreams of creating a sporting dynasty were mostly dead. His mother was avoiding contact with him, which was easy to do when you lived in a mansion and Barrett never left his room. She did though leave food she, not the housekeeper, had cooked at his door. Barrett knew she cared, she probably just didn't know how to deal with everything. Barrett was barely 5’5 now. His entire body was now slender, near skeletal in some places. The muscle wasting disease had burned through Barrett’s body, nothing was left of the young stallion he’d been. He didn't even recognise himself in the mirror anymore, not only had the disease shrunk his bones it had cut away at Barrett’s chiselled bone structure. Barrett’s jaw was nearly nonexistent, his cheekbones were getting less pronounced by the day, like someone was smoothing them out while he slept. His bright eyes were darker now, his hair having taken on the texture of straw. He knew some guys had it worse, he had no idea what Big Ben must be going through, but then he hadn’t spoken to anyone from college since he left. He just lay in bed most of the time, though he’d taken to his old game console. He’d never really played it before, but it sure helped pass the time between sleeps. Barrett had even had a gaming headset and some new games delivered, he had an old picture of himself as his profile, so he could still pretend online he was a hunk. Apart from maintaining a sexy online persona Barrett had removed every other trace of his old self from his room. All the pictures were hidden away, his old sport trophies and framed high school quarterback jersey were packed away in the attic. His mother had brought him a load of new clothes, all sized for his tiny new body. His old wardrobe was either burnt to ashes or donated to goodwill, he had no idea what his dad had done with all the expensive designer gear. Barrett’s room looked alien to him now, look big and with a lot of empty space now that old Barrett was erased. He sunk into the imprint that his old self had left in the mattress, a new bed was the next thing Barrett wanted changed, and maybe new carpet. Barrett was sure his old smell was lingering in the carpet and it was messing with Barrett’s mind. It was the reason he kept getting rock hard at random times, his shrunken peanut cock getting turned on by his old self. He knew it was more that he was attracted to guys who were like he’d been. He liked muscle now, or at least athletic guys. Which made things weird when the housekeeper’s son came to see if he was ok. It was just him being nice to his mother’s boss's son, but it had screwed Barrett up a little. His name was Andre and Barrett knew he’d just left high school, he’d even gotten a full scholarship, which Barrett’s dad had helped him get. What was bad was the shape of Andre’s pecs against his shirt as he talked down to Barrett, who didn’t remember ever thinking of Andre as tall. Barrett had spent the rest of the day watching Andre from his window as the guy helped the elderly gardener rake leaves. This sudden attraction, or maybe it was an odd sadness at his own loss of manhood, must be why he kept his old jockstrap. He liked the smell, the stretched out pouch. He’d give it a sniff sometimes, or press his face into the cotton before remembering he used to be as straight as an arrow, banging multiple chicks at a time. Then his NFL player brother A.J arrived and things got worse.

--

Bud turned back to the crowd behind him and they were still staring like it was the world premiere of some long awaited film. They were glued to his every move and I think every single man hoped he would be chosen next for some strength feat. Bud smiled at all of them, bounced his mammoth pecs a few times, and then looked around the room. I saw a special twinkle in his eye when he came up with an idea. “Alright fellas, everyone on the pool table. I’m going to take you for a ride,” Bud said, accepting two beers from Harry and handing one to me. “Thank you, Harry.” In the blink of an eye it was like the doors of a New York subway opened at rush hour. Thirty something men scrambled quickly to grab a place on the table in the middle of the room. I was worried the thing would break under all that weight, but then I realized it was a heavy, thick oak table that could withstand almost anything. I knew that Bud could destroy the thing with just his little pinkie, but the table could easily hold thirty men and more. The group of guys looked like unfolded laundry thrown in a pile. Everyone desperately wanted to be in a position where they could see Bud in action, so no one minded if they were on top of each other or not. The place was as silent as a library – the only sound being the heavy breathing of men waiting for a thrilling show. Bud sauntered over to the table, taking a big swig of his beer before placing it on the top of the jukebox nearby. Harry was the last one to make it to the table and he dove on top of the pile of bodies – a place of honor. Bud walked slowly around the table to build the suspense – tensing his muscles to a chorus of moans. All heads followed him as he moved. “Connor, babe, I count thirty three men, when you include Harry, is that what you get?” Bud asked, rolling his neck around a little as if he were warming up. “That’s what I get, Bud,” I replied after counting bodies. “Let’s see, thirty three horny grown men. I’d say most of the guys on this table are between a hundred and fifty pounds to two hundred. But I also think some of them easily top two hundred,” Bud continued. “I’m two sixty,” Harry said, raising his hand. “You hear that, Connor? Harry, here, weighs two hundred and sixty pounds and I lifted him like he weighed nothing. That was pretty cool, huh?” Bud said, smiling at the bartender and the smile broadened when Harry nodded his head up and down. “So, let’s say it’s thirty three men and we’ll be conservative and say the average weight is one ninety. That means there is six thousand two hundred and seventy pounds on the table. When you add the weight of the table I bet we get pretty close to seven thousand pounds, wouldn’t you say, Connor?” “At least, big man,” I said in response. “That’s a lot of weight, fellas,” Bud said, looking at the group and feigning concern that it might be too heavy for him. There wasn’t a man in the room that didn’t believe the man could lift the table and the guys on it, but it was fun to play along with him. It built the excitement to force yourself into thinking that no one should be able to lift so much weight. Weights like that were reserved for cranes or forklifts. If hardening cocks made sounds there would have been a wonderful symphony playing in the bar. Bud walked to the center of one of the long sides of the table. He stood near the group of men, so they could stare up at his monstrous body. He turned his head to me. “How about I lift it with my arm stretched out, like they’re a tray of appetizers. Would you like that, Connor?” Bud asked. “You know I would, but there’s one thing that would make it even hotter,” I replied. “What’s that, babe,” he said, excited to make me even happier. “I think we’d all like to see you do your lifting without a shirt,” I replied. There was a loud cheer of agreement from the men on the table. Bud’s face broke into a giant smile and he turned his huge frame towards me. All bodies on the table scooted over so they could easily see the front of Bud’s torso. Bud reached up to the collar of his shirt with both hands and I swear all breathing in the room stopped. He pulled slowly – for a dramatic effect, of course – and the shirt began to rip down the middle. Slowly fabric pulled away to reveal the man’s silver dusted giant pecs, with nipples protruding like steel doorknobs. The sound of the shirt being easily torn from his body rang through the bar like a tornado warning alarm. It was still one of the sweetest sounds I knew, muscles destroying a shirt. Finally, Bud just yanked his clenched hands from his body and the remaining pieces of shirt came tearing away without any resistance. It was as if the cloth knew it would never win. Bud’s humongous upper body was completely revealed and there was a collective gasp from the pool table. Bud dropped the shirt to the floor and then smiled at me. “Better?” he asked. “Yes!” came the collective answer from the pool table and then Harry added, “Hell yeah!” “Much,” I said, when the group had quieted down. “And now, I need a kiss,” Bud said. I walked over to him and he grabbed the sides of my shoulders with his big hands. Lifting me off the floor he brought my face up to his and then placed his mouth against mine. The sigh that rose from the group of guys next to us convinced me that romance was not dead. The kiss, however, convinced me more. I’d probably kiss Bud numerous times for the rest of my life, but every time would be like the first. I’m sure it was a combination of being easily lifted off the floor, being close to his huge manly-smelling naked upper torso, and the expert tongue and lip work that sent me close to the edge. Whatever it was, I liked it a lot. After a few seconds more, Bud returned me to the floor. “Why don’t you stand close, so you’ll get a good view,” he suggested, knowing clearly that wild horses would not be able to drag me away. Bud squatted low. He was so big now, that to reach under the table he had to almost get on his knees. He held out his arm to the side and then flexed his huge arm simply to get my motor and the motors of every guy on the table running in overdrive. The humongous biceps ballooned up and many of the men gasped at the sight. Up close his arm looked even bigger. “How’d some of you guys like to ride this big thing later on?” Bud asked, knowing the answer before he even asked the question. “It would be like being on a big two humped camel and I bet it would be the ride of your life.” A chorus of yeses rang from the table. And then thirty-three cocks had to be adjusted at the same time. The thought of riding on Bud’s massive arm was too much for the guys. Bud released his flex and then slid his outstretched hand under the pool table – palm up. As soon as he applied a little pressure under the table and the thing moved slightly, Bud let out a strained growl – to make it seem like lifting the table was hard. I knew he was kidding and I had a feeling most of the guys knew, too – if not all of them – but it was sexy as hell seeing him pretending to strain. Very slowly the table rose. The way you knew it wasn’t a problem for Bud, even thought he continued to yell through gritted teeth, was the fact that the table didn’t wobble or tip in any direction. Bud’s palm was able to hold the big thing steady with no problem. Again, watching him lift thirty-three men on a pool table was even more thrilling that having seen him lift a fire engine. I was beginning to realize it was because it involved living men – and watching their faces as my super gramps did amazing feats of strength. By this point Bud was standing up straight, his hand stretched out completely from his shoulder and he was holding a giant pool table loaded with a group of men like it was a sheet of paper. He was still pretending that it was hard – with a face that looked strained and a gritted growl. Suddenly the sound stopped, Bud smiled, and he looked at the guys. “Did I have you fooled?” he asked. “Did I make it look hard? It’s not. Lifting seven thousand pounds is a breeze for this old man.” To emphasize his point Bud started lifting the table higher than his head and then lowering it back to shoulder length. Watching his barely strained arm accomplish this feat was simply amazing. My Bud-induced perpetual hard-on actually twitched wildly at the sight. Many of the men on the table had reached a point beyond caring and they had their hands down their pants and I could tell they were pumping their hard cocks as fast as the could. “Let’s make it a bumpy ride, shall we, fellas?” Bud asked. He then started to flick his wrist a little and send the table and its occupants into the air. The table would be stopped abruptly when it fell into Bud’s waiting hand and then there’d be a big thud as the pile of thirty-three men hit the table and the thing didn’t dip at all. Bud was tossing seven thousand pounds up and down in the air like he had only a golf ball in his hand. Bud bent his legs slightly and then wrapped his other huge arm around my waist. When he stood back up he took my body with him. “I thought you might like to watch from up here, Connor.” Bud said. “Its wild, sweetheart. It registers in my head that my palm is holding seven thousand pounds and I can feel some weight in my hand, but these guys and the table are so fucking light. I send the entire thing into the air with nothing but a flick of my wrist. Imagine what I could do if I really cocked my arm downward and then sent it flying upward. Listen to that sound when all of their bodies hit the table – cool, huh? That noise kind of turns me on – especially when most of the guys let out a grunt when they smack into each other. Watch this, Connor babe. Hey fellas, let’s see if I can flip all of you like a pancake. Hang on to each other. I’m pretty sure the ceiling is high enough.” I looked up and realized, for the first time, that the place was like a warehouse and the roof was really high. I immediately knew this was a good thing. Like an expert chef, Bud Stevens pulled his arm in towards him and then sent it flinging outward, flicking his wrist a little harder than before at the same time. The effect was exactly what he expected. The group of men – clinging to each other for the ride of their lives – went flying in the air as one unit, spun around like a flipped pancake, and then came crashing back down on the pool table with a loud thud. There was also a chorus of guys getting the wind knocked out of them. Harry, the bartender, was now on the bottom of the pile. “Did you see that Connor, my man,” Bud said with a deep gleeful laugh. “I just flipped my first thirty three-man omlette! That was incredible and so easy. I could be a good cook, don’t you think? Let’s do it again.” And that’s exactly what Bud did. He flipped the large group of men two more times in the same exact way. He did it quickly and I could see that it was making some of the men a little nauseous – spinning around so fast. I could also see they were loving it, like little kids on a fast ride at the fair. It suddenly dawned on me that Bud had been holding seven thousand pounds in one hand for a good while. He didn’t seem like it mattered, though. His arm was bulging a little more than it usually did, something that made my cock jump, but there didn’t seem to be any limit to his strength. I think he could have held them like that for days. “Hey Bud, I think you’re forgetting something that will make you very happy,” I said, looking up at him around his big pec, which pressed into my body as he held me close. “What’s that, babe,” He said, smiling down at me. “There’s a huge mirror behind the bar,” I replied, knowing full well what my words would do to the big man. “Holy hell, that means I can watch myself lift these dude!” Bud shot back quickly. “It sure does,” I answered. In a flash Bud had moved us all around until he was standing across from the bar and could see himself in the giant mirror. The view was amazing and I think it actually caught him off guard, even though he fully realized his abilities. It was just the sight of his power still sometimes surprised him. Doing strength feats was nothing, but watching himself do them was a little surreal. I giggled to myself as I watched thirty-three men stay connected as one glob of man-meat but wiggle themselves around so that everyone could look in the mirror. There was this giant elder muscleman – his tattered shirt on the floor so his massive upper body shone like a giant full moon – holding his lover in one arm and a massive wooden pool table with a mob of full-grown men in the other. And the arm was outstretched like he was feeling for raindrops. Everyone paused for a few minutes to let the glorious view sink in. We all were part of it – the reality of it – but seeing it in the mirror still knocked your socks off. My senior lover was immense; there was just no denying it. He made the pool table look like a flimsy card table. He made a group of thirty-six men look like a pile of rag dolls. Bud Stevens was exactly what I pictured when I thought of the gods on Mount Olympus. Huge, clearly virile beyond imagination, comfortable in his own skin, and confident as hell. “Let’s make the view even hotter, fellas,” Bud said, snapping us all out of our wide-eyed adoration. It was a simple move, but one that none of us was prepared for. He simply brought his arm – the one with the pool table and the gaggle of onlookers – above his head. It stirred something deep inside me. The old Hercules films used to show the actor lifting a guy overhead. That one move was replayed over and over in my head so many times in my life, that I could invoke it perfectly any time my hand touched my cock or my nips. It didn’t matter if the lifting was really a guy jumping and the Hercules actor merely moving his arms in the same direction as the guy was traveling or if Hercules actually carried the guy for a few feet. It was simply the image of a muscular man holding another full-grown man – the bigger the better – over his head. Later on, when I discovered muscle worship films, and there were huge men willing to press other guys over their head multiple times for our viewing pleasure, I instantly became a lifelong fan of any cocky dude that could do it. I usually skipped over the sex parts of videos and focused on any part that dealt with muscle worship or showing off strength. All of my youthful fantasies and my adult porn watching could never have prepared me for Bud Stevens, however. He had already blown me away with multiple feats of strength, but the image of him lifting that table with those men made my cock explode. I was usually able to hold out from orgasm so my big man could enjoy my love juice, but seeing him pressing that human weight up and down with one arm – like it was nothing – erased every image of Hercules or some porn star struggling to lift one man. I sprayed for my real-life senior Hercules. “Bless my soul, Connor, you are clearly digging this image as much as I am. Watching my massive arm manipulate these men was just too much for you, wasn’t it?” Bud said, obviously loving the fact that I spontaneously erupted. “Look at you flopping around in my big arm while the other one easily presses up and lowers down – seven thousand pounds feeling like a bag full of feathers. Your silver-haired lover-man is getting super strong for you, babe. Making you spill your sweet seed is all I live for. Well that, and showing off my strength. When I feel you shaking uncontrollably in my arms it means I’ve done something to make you happy. And that, in turn makes me very happy. I’d have you spewing twenty-four seven if I could, hon. Sorry to make you have a mess in your pants, though.” “I don’t mind,” I replied softly, not having fully recovered from my release. The sound of multiple orgasmic moans made me realize a bunch of the guys on the pool table had been unable to contain their eruptions, either. They were blown away by the reflection in the mirror, too. Bud Stevens looked like a man in his sixties who had been morphed three times over and then someone had photoshopped a huge, dark, heavy pool table loaded with a pile of cum-stained men onto one of his gigantic arms, which was lifted above his head. It didn’t look real. Hell, I was pretty sure that even Bud was surprised by the sight, and he was the one actually doing the stunt. Here were the things that helped to make it real – the thick smell of manly seed that now permeated the air, the deep breathing of thirty some odd men as they tried to recover from intense orgasms and the fact that a silver-haired, white fur covered, muscle bulging hulk of a gramps had just man-powered seven thousand pounds over his head as if it had been a plate he was carrying to the table for dinner. And then there was the shocking reality that the man still held all of it above his head while his uncovered massive torso shone like a marble statue four times bigger than life-sized. “Whoa, little men, it’s starting to smell like a Saturday night high school circle-jerk party in here,” Bud said, laughing. “It seems that no one was able to resist pumping out some creamy adulation to my little display of strength. I say ‘little’ because you fellas don’t weigh a thing and this table feels as light as a matchbox. The view is pretty potent, though, I’ll give you that. Look at how my hard muscles bulge in overload. It’s like someone combined the meat of five men’s body onto one. And when I tense everything up it’s pretty cock hardening, isn’t it. Look at the lust in my lover boy’s eyes. Connor would eat me up, if he could. When he gets turned on like that I get a glimpse of heaven, boys. I’m all about making this little guy happy.” “I wanna be your little guy, too,” came Harry’s voice from the pile of worn-out men on top of the table. “I want a man that can do what you can do!” “Sorry, pretty Harry, I’m a one-man muscle giant,” Bud responded. “I only have room in my heart for Connor, here. He makes me complete.” Bud squeezed his arm, which surrounded me, to emphasize his point. I was still a little dizzy from my orgasm, but his words warmed my heart in a way that was hard to explain. I never doubted Bud’s love for me – or his devotion – but hearing it never got old, either. It was like a blanket of security – the same kind of feeling I received when his muscled arm engulfed me. The big senior man was still lifting the table and men up and down with one arm, as if to emphasize his strength to everyone. I’m sure, like me, every man on that pool table was already hard as stone, again. “Look how when I lower the table, boys, my big gun balloons to an even more freakish size,” Bud said, and we all stared at his biceps. “This is the kind of workout I’d love to have every day. Not that I need to lift weights or anything. I keep getting bigger and stronger without doing a thing, but what’s the use of having all this ginormous muscle if you’re not going to use it. Isn’t that right fellas?” A chorus of yeses again rang through the room. Bud continued to lift the table up and down – increasing the speed. I wondered if his goal was to get a few of the men dizzy from the motion. Or was he simply showing off. Bud began to lower the table to the side, too, as he had done at first. This was truly an amazing sight – his arm outstretched and steady as a mountain, holding the table and men. “I think it’s time we play ‘who can be the last man holding on,’” boomed Bud. “I’m going to shake the table and you guys see who stays on the table the longest. You up for the game, men?” “Yes!” came the unanimous answer. Bud released his grip on me and let me slide down his hard body until my feet hit the ground. He kept his hand on my back to make sure I was steady on the floor. I took a quick grope of his unclothed upper body and this made the big man chuckle. I then backed away, wanting to watch the game he had planned. Bud raised the table overhead and grabbed it at the side with the hand that had held me. He then grabbed the other side. Now he had the table overhead like a surfer carrying his board. The men were frantically trying to figure out how they were going to hold onto the table. Some were grabbing the side, others were sticking their hands down the open holes, and others were just sitting there hoping to ride out the coming strength storm as best they could. “Okay, fellas, hang on!” Bud called out. I knew Bud’s goal was to have no one left on that table. His intention was to end up shaking the thing like it was an earthquake above an 8.0 on the scale. Bud hadn’t lowered the table now for about thirty minutes – an amazing feat in and of itself, but he was going to go even further and send the guys flying. I watched as the huge man tightened his grip, made his biceps bulge even higher for my benefit, and then began to rock the table back and forth. There was a chorus of cheers from above as the men readied themselves for the challenge. Bud could have cleared the table with one sharp flick of his huge arms. Everyone in the room knew it. The man was powerful enough to bring down buildings – rocking a table with thirty men was child’s play, but that’s what made it fun . . . knowing he was toying with everyone. There was absolutely no reason for Bud Stevens to be a bully. Bullies needed to prove something. Bullies were mean because they were insecure. All insecurities in Bud disappeared the minute he became huge and powerful. When your body surpasses known limits you tend to become so comfortable in your skin that you radiate confidence from every pore. Of course, the only reason I knew this was because I had witnessed it first hand. Bud knew he was huge. Bud knew he was powerful. Bud knew he was the only man on the planet like this. Knowledge like this enables a man to be fully human – to be gentle, kind, and always giving. That is, unless someone tried to harm me. That’s the only thing that would make Bud get angry. “Time to lose a few of you!” Bud boomed over the yells from the men. The man’s big arms began to shake the table harder. Two guys immediately went flying to the ground. You could see their disappointment over losing, but they both stood up and started cheering on the others. A bunch of other men were shaken to the edges of the table and they grabbed hold of the side as they slid off – all of them dangling from above the ground as Bud continued to vibrate the entire big thing. Eventually the shaking made them all lose their grip and they plopped down to the ground. “And now for some rocking at the same time! If the table’s rocking, don’t come knocking,” Bud yelled enthusiastically. I watched in awe as the ends of the pool table started going up and down at the same time it shook. Bud’s arms were now getting so swole that my cock was hard as stone, not because of his strength show, but because of biceps that now looked like something from another world. It was like the bodies of two huge men stuck out from Bud’s shoulders and held onto the table. Suddenly, men were flying everywhere. One guy went through the air and then scooted down the long bar – just like in the movies. Guys landed on tables, banged into walls, and hit the pinball machines. No one flew hard enough to get hurt and everyone immediately jumped up after landing to watch the rest of the show. I finally peeled my eyes from Bud’s humongous arms and looked at the table. On man remained – Harry the bartender – and he was lying on the table with his feet and hands locked against the raised edge. The chosen position helped him to wedge himself securely even with the tremendous force of Bud’s shaking skills. The giant elder man saw all of this in the mirror behind the bar and it made him smile. There was nothing Bud loved more than a friendly challenge from another man. Harry smiled, too, because he knew his actions were going to make the senior muscleman use more of his power. Harry wanted to please my boyfriend – and he certainly did. “How long do you think you can last Harry?” Bud called out teasingly. “You know, of course, I could send you flying across the room any time I wanted, right?” “Yes sir,” Harry responded in an unsteady voice due to all the shaking. “But let’s just increase everything slowly to see how strong you can be,” Bud said. “Those muscles of yours are bulging pretty hard right now and it’s hot as hell.” Bud was right. Harry was using a lot of strength to stay wedged on the table and it made his body bulge beautifully. He truly was a sexy man. I could tell Bud liked Hary’s small compact body and I certainly felt the same way. Every other man in the place was now cheering on the bartender. We all knew he’d lose, eventually, but it was fun to root for the underdog. Bud loved the optimism of the crowd. He also loved how huge his upper body was getting from the workout. The rocking of the table, along with the side-to-side shaking increased slightly. We all saw Harry tense his body harder, exerting more strength to stay in place. It was actually pretty impressive that he hadn’t gone sailing through the air, yet. The table was moving up and down like a ship being tossed by giant waves. “Good job, Harry, my boy!” Bud said, encouraging the bartender. “I’m trying to decide how to finally buck you off this bronco table. I hope you’re okay with flying the length of this place, cause I feel like using some strength. The ceiling’s high enough for me to send you soaring. I’m thinking you want me to show off, don’t you, son?” “Please sir,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “Fellas, I need a bunch of you to go over to that corner across the place near the dart board. About ten of you should do,” Bud requested. Immediately, the entire group of other men ran to the spot that Bud mentioned. No one wanted to be left out and everyone wanted to watch the flying bartender. I realized immediately that Bud intended to use the group as Harry’s landing spot. This was going to be good. I viewed it as a human bowling game – the compact muscled guy being the ball and the thirty-two men being the pins. This was Bud’s intention, too. I was now so close to my elder lover we could easily know what the other was thinking. We also loved the same thing – Bud using his strength and showing off his size any time he could. The giant man cocked the table backwards in his big hands – causing Harry’s head to be lower than his feet for a few seconds. The bartender let out a big celebratory yell as soon as he figured out what was going to happen. That’s when the huge senior snapped the big table forward in his hands like he was doing a forward pass with a basketball. When he abruptly stopped the motion I was happy the pool table didn’t break in two. The motion, however, acted like a large catapult that sent the muscled bartender ejected into the air. Harry’s body shot upward with his arms and leg still spread out. He traveled the length of the entire warehouse-like room and smacked into the front of the group of men on the other side. Immediately, all thirty-two men were knocked to the ground. It was the smoothest strike you’d ever seen in bowling. “Sttrriiiikkkeeee!!!!” Bud yelled loudly. My massive boyfriend then walked over and placed the pool table back on the ground – right in the spot it had sat earlier. He continued across the room and when he got to the pile of still-stunned men on the ground he started reaching down and lifting guys by the shirt or pants using one hand each and standing them back on the ground. Every guy kind of swayed back and forth when he was set on his feet – still reeling from the powerful toss of Bud Stevens. By the time the big man had everyone standing, I was sitting at the bar and Harry had returned to his spot, serving me another cold beer. The short muscled dude was clearly jacked from Bud’s display of power. Old man Stevens stayed in the corner of the room with the other men and continued to reward them with individual feats of strength. Harry and I watched – the bartender leaning on the bar from the other side near where I sat. “What’s it like - living with all that senior muscle?” Harry asked. “Secure and hard,” I replied, without hesitation. “You never have to worry about a thing.” “I bet,” Harry said, looking over at the big man. “Look at him, holding out his palm, having a group of guys grab hold of it, and then lifting them up like they don’t weigh a thing. He’s got five guys hanging on to his hand and they’re dangling off the ground – merely from the power of just one of his big arms. The weight doesn’t register to him at all. Hell, he lifted me like I was just a tissue. I bet he could have crumpled me up and tossed me like one, too. “Yeah, but he never would,” I replied. “Unless I did something to you, Connor,” Harry shot back quickly. “Yeah, that’s true,” I answered. “He doesn’t take kindly to anyone that’s mean to me.” “When he grabbed me earlier, jolts of pure joy shot through my body. Does that ever go away?” Harry asked. “”Nope,” I replied, “It still happens to me every time he touches me.” “He’s just so fucking enormous,” Harry exclaimed, and then added, “Now he has four guys hanging from each arm as he does a double biceps pose and he’s spinning them around like a carnival ride.” “He loves making guys happy,” I explained, “ And, in turn, it makes him happy.” “He’s happiest when you’re satisfied, though,” Harry said, turning to look at me. “It’s like you’ve got a guardian angel.” “Better than that,” I said. “It’s like I’ve got my own superhero.” “You’re not flirting with my boy, are you, Harry?” Bud asked, trying to seem all menacing and dominant. “Cause if you are I’m gonna have to wrap your legs around your neck and tie them in a knot.” Bud stood behind me and looked down at the bartender. He placed one big hand on my chest and then laid the other one on top of that – clearly my torso was too small for both of his big hands to be beside each other. He pulled my body into his and I could feel his massive hard-on snaking upward at his crotch. Playing with all the men in the bar had gotten him very excited. Showing off his strength always gave him a raging boner. He bent down and kissed the top of my head. “Quit being mean, Bud,” I said, teasingly. “It would almost be worth flirting with him, Bud, just to feel your strength do something to my body,” Harry said. “I haven’t ever gotten so turned on as I did when you lifted me with one hand and then later when you shot me across the room from the pool table.” “Hell, son, that was nothing. Connor, here, has seen me lift a fire engine,” Bud said and smiled when the statement made Harry moan out loud. “I’ve got an idea. Harry, can you hold my little man, here, over your head?” “Yes sir,” Harry responded, “but not nearly as long as you could.” “That doesn’t matter,” Bud said. “This would just need to be long enough to edge you two closer to another eruption. Connor, babe, would you like to be lifted overhead by this cute bartender?” “You know I would,” I answered. “Well, let’s stand facing the mirror again,” Bud said and then he reached down and easily lifted me by the waist. “I’ll place Connor in your hands, Harry – to save some of the strength you’d use lifting him.” Harry stood in front of Bud and locked his arms above his head. Bud easily turned me sideways and lifted me into the palms of the waiting bartender. As soon as Bud let go I could feel how Harry had to strain to hold me, while the big elder man had easily manipulated me as if I had merely been a Q-Tip. It was so different to be held by someone that had to work at it. Bud held me without shaking or grunting. Harry was definitely strong and could clearly hold me for a while, but to Bud I was nothing but a cotton ball. It didn’t even register he was holding a grown man. The view, however, of the leather vested, muscled Harry holding me over his head was still a turn on. The guy was truly handsome and built like a freaking fireplug. Bud caught me looking at our reflection. “Yeah, I figured you’d get all hot and bothered, Connor,” the big man said. “Harry is one sexy beast. He bulges in all the right places. That’s exactly what I hoped would happen. This is going to be like a muscle-worship three-way. I’ve certainly done greater strength feats that what I’m about to do, but there’s just something powerful when it’s an intimate act between so few people. And since we both like Harry I thought we’d include him in the fun. Now Harry, you hang on to my boy, no matter what. Even if you spew your seed something powerful, you grip Connor good.” “Yes sir,” Harry answered. Bud had grabbed Harry at his hips. With little effort, but a whole lot of joy, the senior muscle stud lifted the bartender as he held me above his head. The view in the mirror was breathtaking. Bud was right – he had done much more powerful things – but it was wonderful watching our little acrobatic threesome. Harry gasped a little when his feet came off the ground and I could feel his arms shaking even more, but I knew he wouldn’t drop me even if his life depended on it. He had told Bud Stevens he wouldn’t and no one wanted Bud mad at them. It was glorious feeling my body go so high in the air. It was also cool knowing such a strong man was holding me and that there was someone holding both of us who was a hell of a lot more powerful. Bud extended his arms all the way and held us in place for a few seconds. He then started lowering and raising us in smooth reps. I could sense that the group of men had gathered again to watch the show. Harry’s gorgeous body glistened a little from a light sweat - caused from holding me for so long, but Bud kept pushing us up and down as if he could do it forever. “Harry, can you pump out a few reps with my man as I lift you both?” Bud asked. “I can and will, sir,” Harry answered. “That-a-boy, Harry. This will be hot,” Bud added. “But let’s do one more thing to make it even better. I’m going to make a slight adjustment.” Bud held on to Harry’s hip tightly with his big left hand as he moved his right hand to the bartender’s ass. That meant for a few seconds Bud held us both in the air with just one hand – easy enough for him, but it was hot as hell. Harry immediately understood what was going on and he folded his body to sit in Bud’s open right palm. My senior lover then let go with his left hand and pumped that arm into a biceps flex. At the same time he held the both of us high in the air with one arm. It was such an awesome sight. Harry moaned with pleasure as he looked at the three of us and then his entire body trembled as Bud started to move us up and down with one arm, while power flexing with the other. I could hear camera phones going off right and left behind us, as well as what could only be the sound of hands pumping cocks as guys watched the action. “To me, this is even hotter than lifting a fire engine,” Bud exclaimed, and I could hear the excitement in his voice. “Me, too,” I responded. “Me, too,” Harry added. Bud pumped out quite a few one armed reps with our bodies in the air, but then I could tell he sensed Harry was getting a little tired. He lowered the bartender to the ground and gave the smaller guy some support with his big hand as Harry stood back up. Bud then reached up and took my body in his own hands. Immediately, Harry shook out his arms like he had just finished some reps with some very heavy weight. Bud pushed my body into the air and we both stared at the beautiful sight of him holding me so easily. “My boy’s really light, isn’t he, Harry,” Bud said, teasing the bartender. “Um, no sir,” Harry replied, gawking at how casual it was for Bud to hoist and hold me in the air. “No? I could hold him here for days. Would you like that Connor?” Bud asked teasingly. “You know I would, Bud,” I said, looking at his reflection lovingly. “I love holding your little body in the air, babe, cause I know how much you like it,” Bud said. “And look how impressed Harry is with my strength. Just think – this one hand held both of you in the air with the greatest of ease. I’m getting the feeling that Harry likes being lifted.” “Yes sir,” the bartender replied. “No one’s ever been able to lift me in the air and you did it with one and . . . even when I was holding another full grown man in my arms!” “And you two were as light as light can be,” Bud said. “Um, big guy, as much as I love this, I think I’d like to have my feet on the ground, again,” I said, looking down at Bud below me. “Oh sorry, Connor, I forgot I was holding you,” Bud said, and gently placed me back on a bar stool. He then patted my head and added, “You really should gain some weight so you’d register to these big guns of mine.” “You just lifted seven thousand pounds without any problem,” I complained. “I don’t think I can ever gain enough weight to make it matter.” “Truer words have never been spoken, my little lover,” Bud said.

Arthur Thorn Part Two by F_R_Eaky Part One: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10588-arthur-thorn-part-one-by-f_r_eaky/ " Oṃ Maṇi Padme Hūṃmmmmmmmmm... ... ... Oṃ Maṇi Padme Hūṃmmmmmmmmm... ... ... ... Oṃ Maṇi Padme Hūṃ... ... ... ..." "Arthur...what are you doing?" David Hamm, Arthur's boyfriend leaned the broad and built shoulders of his 6' 4" frame onto the doorway he was just four inches shy of filling in and crossed his bulbous arms that strained his short sleeves in front of his barreling chest which threatened to pop buttons off with deadly force, while he stood there smirking, his green eyes sparkling in the candle light while his burnt orange hair became high lighted by it with golden streaks. The same highlights appeared slightly on tuffs of hair poking over the collar of his t-shirt and in between the color of his policeman's uniform. "I am meditating. I told you I was going to be doing this today." Arthur just glanced a shy smile back towards David and then resumed position he's much shorter and lither body into sitting up straight in a cross-legged position. "I didn't think you'd start this early. What are you meditating on?" "You know what I'm trying to do. One of my friends suggested being hypnotised and maybe it'd get me over this slight obessession of giant sized bodybuilders with donky dicks..." "I thought you like me and my body." and David laughed. Arthur laughed and tossed one of his cushions towards David's head as best as his scrawny arms could do. "I'm serious. You know what I mean. How I just think about it all the time, how I feel I should somehow be it, become it." "I've always told you I'd be happy to take you in to work out with me. What could be better than having your boyfriend help give you the dream you've always wanted." "David... at late twenties going into thirties I doubt you're training is going to be able to make my height dreams come true, nor is my cock going to grow any more." "Yeah, but your muscles would. You find guys like Lee Priest or 'Flex' Wheeler still sexy, don'cha?" "Yesssss.... but it's just not the same. That's why I want to try and get rid of and control these feelings, urges. I've got my giant hulk for a boy friend, that's good enough. Why keep thinking on a goal that's never going to happen. Has no way to happen, unless some sort of deity like miracle occurs?" "Well, just don't waste your whole day off with this. I don't want you all zoned out when I get home. I've got your favorites in the crock pot and chillin' in the fridge. It's romance night tonight, bro. Besides I don't want the whole house to smell like....what is that you're burning?" "It's a combination of herbs and such made into an incense. I was told it would aid me in this chanting to bring focus to my mind and thus peace to it. Surpisingly though there was a huge run on incense down at the local herbs and magic shop so I had to get what was left.... if I remember correctly what I could get was cedar, apple.....as.....asphodel.....yew.....thyme....myhrr..... and I think I got the last of the frankensence as well." "uh-huh.....right.... Well, try to burn all of it; it stinks. And what are you saying?" "Oh my friend gave me a number of various chants from Hindu and Tibetan beliefs." "I see........ I don't know a thing about any of this stuff. Maybe that's what drew me to you. Cute little twink with a dark mysterious side." "I put a spell on you....and now you're mine..." David laughed hard. "I love you, goof nut. Come here and give your man a kiss before he heads out to protect and serve." Arthur stood up at once, spun on his heels to face David, then ran to him and leaped into his arms, wrapping his legs around David's tight waist, and the encircled his arms around the marble column of a neck after an attempt of grabbing around the chest failed. David caught him easily and the lip locked long, hard, and deep, Arthur kissing David extremely deeply for some reason. "Whoa...... forget the incense...that kind of lovin' is gonna make me swoon. Can't do that. You don't have the ability to drag me to the bedroom." "True, but I could just strip you in this doorway and have my way with you." "One more kiss. Mmmmmwuah! And off I go. Love you." "Love you too." And with that David left for work while Arthur sat back down in the meditative position and looked at the list his friend gave him. "Hmmmmmmmm let's try this next chant.... Om Namah Shivaya.... Om Namah Shivaya...." ************************************************************************* "Hey, babe I home fro-auck.... a-huh....." Immediately upon opening the door and stepping inside, David could feel the air being sucked out of his lungs and his eyes beginning to water. He stepped backwards through the front door of his house and began a coughing fit. Meanwhile his neighbor, who was one the front porch of his house, stood up and looked gravely concerned at the amount of smoke pooring out the door. "David!... DAVID! Is your house on fire!" "No... waaaaa-huh a-huh.... I don't think so, but there is a ton of smoke. Have you seen Arthur?" "I don't think he's come out all day." "Oh god! Max, come stand here at my front door. I've got to run in and see if I can find Arthur." "Wait one second..." Max ran into his house and then back back with dripping wet dish towel. "Tie this around your face. It'll help filter the smoke as you try to breathe." David grabbed the towel, tied it, and ran back into the house. He ran back to the den figuring that's where he'd find Arthur and sure enough there he was slumped over in his meditative position. In the fire place the bulk of Arthur's incense purchase, enough for a month's worth of meditation, was nearly completely burned up. Running towards the fireplace, David popped the flue open and then ran to the large den window and threw it open wide. The he ran and picked up Arthur as easy as can be although the strain caused havoc with his uniform and t-shirt underneath as both ripped down the back and the t-shirt screamed at the flexing of the arms and then the rush of blood they received from the pump of picking Arthur up. Dashing through the corridors, David ran out the front door with Arthur and collapsed on the front yard. Gently laying Arthur down, he looked at his boyfriend for signs of movement. "Oh god... He's not breathing... HE'S NOT BREATHING!" David went to place his hands onto Arthur's chest, but Max grabbed a hold of his wrist and calmly looked and him and told him, "You call for help. In your state in that body, you might break a rib...or two...plus his sternum and collar bones. I've got this." And as Max began CPR on Arthur, David clicked on the walkie-talkie on his shirt and cried out, "This is 2 Adam 5 10-10A, I need EMS at 22 Stone Avenue for a victem of Smoke Inhalation." "Copy 2 Adam 5 10-10. EMS is in route. We'll have their dispatch call your cell phone. Dispatch out." David fell back on to his hands in the grass and continued to cough through the wet twoel on his face, while staring at Max who was still working on his boyfriend in the grass. Suddenly Arthur began to weakly move his hands as if trying to push something, and through weakly gasped breaths of air called out, "Pressing on me.... pressing on me....why can't I move it? Why can't I move it!" Max stopped administering CPR, but he and David both wondered what Arthur was mumbling about. ****************************************************************************** Three and half months later, after the accident, they had figured out that it was the result of a combination of two things: one Arthur had managed to put himself into a deep trance, making him unaware of his surroundings, and two, a mild earth quake had occured, the shaking causing one of the incense cones to fall over and thus ignite the entire bunch of incense supplies Arthur had bought. In his trance Arthur never noticed the house filling up with too much incense smoke, and apparently the smoke detectors needed their batteries changed. Arthur had gone off to do meditations in the woods now, so as to breath in clean air and not aggrivate his lungs. Coming back home, he entered through the back door and nearly exited from the same when the lights came on and a screaming din of the word, "SURPRISE!" was yelled at him by many familiar faces. Staggering forward, Arthur reached out to wrap an arm around David for support and leaned into him almost like a shy child trying to hide behind his father. Scattered throughout the room was Ted Hamm, David's father; Henry & Roselynn Thorn, Arthur's parents; Rose & Ivy Thorn, Arthur's younger twin sisters; Maude McFessel, Arthur's friend from art college; Josh Dauber, Arthur's best friend; Quinn Williams, Arthur's former lover, but just good friends; Jasmine Arkiros, Arthur's dealer; Ian Francis, David's personal trainer, and several artists and workers of the gallery in which Arthur displays his work. After around of games, and a round of drinks, fine food provided by the best junk food places in town, topped off with a double chocolate fudge, chocolate icing birthday cake, the party broke up and Ian was in the bedroom stripped down to his underwear deciding what he would wear to bed: pajamas, t-shirt and underwear, t-shirt and pajama shorts... He had almost backed into the master suite bathroom doorway but stopped when he felt the breeze of air that indicated it had just been opened. David now stepped heavily behind him. Arthur could feel the heat of the hot shower body rising off of Davids's body. He could smell the cleanness of the shower water, the perfume of the soap, the musk of David's manly scent all filling his sinuses to capacity and mixing together in a heady scent that was almost as bad at the incense he purchaed month's ago. One of David's feet now came underneath him, standing heel to heel with Arthur's own foot. Arthur looked down in anticipation and awe, an excitement welling up inside of him that he knew would cause him to burst out of his body. Glancing down he saw the mighty and muscular foot of David in its entire naked size 16 US shoe, a full 3 inches longer than size 7 shoe and it seemed nearly twice as wide. Arthur swooned backward at the sight, and placed his hands to catch himself on the door frame, but instead his hands made contact with David's thighs. He could feel the the deep crevices, the mounding bulges off the three tear drop shapes as David rolled and popped them as he flexed each thigh back and forth. Arthur could feel these criss-crossing ridges, feel heat from them, feel a flow from them, feel a beat from them. Arthur swallowed hard and thought to himself. "Awww damn... ... .... He's not only just taken a shower, but he's done just enough of a workout to give himself a good pump and engorge his veins. ... ..." Arthur swooned again, this time his whole torso leaned back and that back, shoulders, neck and and his head to feel and measure the size of his boyfriend and what a mountain of muscle he was. Arthur's head only came up to David's shoulders. That head and neck could feel only Davids protruding pecs and just the great crevice between them at that. The shoulders and back could only feel this great wall of cobblestones or brick that moved in and out and rolled as David breathed. That receeded at Arthur's touch and pinched and caught Arthur's fingers in the deep recesses and held them with the individual bubble loaf formations that felt as hard as stone. David lifted up his mighty hands, like bear paws they were and he began to rub them up and down Arthur's shoulders, delts, and upper arms. Ocassionally he squeeze and cupped them, moving them down to hold Arthur's biceps with just a thumb and forefinger. But this time David slowed his rythm and began to caress Arthur a little more exploratory. "Babe, have you been working out?" "Kind of." and David could feel the blood rush up Arthur's body into his face. "I've not been tossing weight around, but to get rid of some of the.... I don't know.... anxiety? of trying to control this obsession I've been performing the excersizes on the health track out at the park. You know, the sit up bench, the dip bars, the stair climb and calve lifts." "I can tell. I can feel it." "Yeah, well, I'm still a stick figure. Especially compared to you my handsome hulk." Pushing his arms back he could feel David's own massive lats pushing back on them and proving they would give in not one inch. Arthur's hands began to latch onto and creep up David's forearms, the fingertips gliding and tracing the veins from the hands up the forearms as much as he could reach. The was a low moan suddenly from Davice and then Arthur could feel this knob begin to press through his underwear at his butt. It seemed like it was going to try and pentrate both his underwear and him, but it began to move up and up and up, the knob growing into a large, thick rod, that pulsed with a beat and heat, filling the crack of his ass like a bratwurst fills up a hot dog bun, and that knob still rose a little higher hitting the small of Arthur's back. David was a fully erect 8.5 inches. "Oh gawd....Arthur.... you know it drives me wild when you trace my veins.... .... ..." Arthur spun around and pressed David's cock between David's upper groin region and the middle of Arthur's abs. He burried his face in the middle of the ginger giant's pectorals, letting the auburn chest hair tickle his closed eyes, his nose, his lips, and his face. Arthur called out muffled by the cavernous chest, "And what does it do if I reach out and feel your muscles up. Marvel at their strength and size, comment on how your thighs are bigger round than my torso?" Suddenly he felt few drops and little wet spot happen between him and David. Looking up, Arthur cried, "Come on, big man, show me how big and strong you are!" And with that David grabbed Arthur by the waist and hoisted him up in the air. He then slowly brought him down on his mighty rod, after quickly, forcefully, and with ease, stripping the underwear, ripping it clean, off Arthur's body. Arthur then wrapped his legs around David's torso and began to run his hands up and down David's arms, cupping and squeezing the bicep of the upper arm, tracing all major rivers and rivlettes of the blood vessles, burying hia nose into David's pits and then sucking on one of David's nips, hoping and praying that the muscle milk he's read about in so many muscle growth stories, would start gushing out and fill his belly until it extended out like a pregnant woman. "AAAAUUUGH FUCK!" David went ridgid in his stance for a few moments and Arthur could feel his hole being flooded with David's seed. David quickly walked him and Arthur to the bed where after pushing Arthur up just a little, soon attached a a strap to his prick at the base and then smiled down at Arthur. Tonight was going to be a fun and long evening. ********************************************************************* Late in the evening after Arthur and David had fallen asleep, David was awoken by Arthur tossing and turning in bed. "Babe, what is it? Are you okay?" David tried to wake Arthur up by gently shaking him on the shoulder, but he just couldn't seem to do it. Arthur was flailing his hands and arms about trying to kick his legs, but it looked as though they were weighted down. "Oh gawd! Pressing on me! Pressing on me! Press....ing.... on ....me..... Why can't I move it? Why can't I move it!" Flipping round so that he straddled Arthur's crotch, David tried to grab a hold of both of Arthur's shoulders. "Arthur! Baby! Wake up! It's a bad dream. It's just a bad dream! What are you talking about you can't move it?" Suddenly Arthur's hands reached out and pushed against David's shoulders and chest. "Why....can't.....I move..... it!" The pushing went on for a number of minutes until Arthur changed hand positions and one of his hands went down to David's crotch and the other between a shoulder and pec. Still chanting out "Why can't I move it!" Arthur's hands and arms began to move with David on top of them. David became paralysed in awe and fear as Arthur suddenly raised David off of himself and then into a military press position over his head as Arthur, still sleeping, sat up in bed. "Arthur...ARTHUR! Wake up! This isn't normal. My gawd.... what's happening to you?" "Why can't I move it? WHY CAN'T I MOVE IT! C'MON! COME OOOOOOON! AUUUUUUUUUUGH!" Suddenly David's crotch and shoulder began to burn and Arthur's arms began to tremble and he began to scream. Arthur screamed out a extremely loud "no" and then fell over sideways, falling off the bed onto the floor and sending David into the wall. Arthur woke up sobbing and screaming about his hands. Pulling them in and clutching them to his chest. Shakily David stood up on his knees and reached out for the light that had been knocked off the night stand during his toss and saw in the night his lover trembling, the skin on Arthur's hands and forearms having turned bright red and large blisters forming up and down them. Arthur collapsed unconcious, his breathing becoming extremely low, slow, and wheezy. David fumbled for the bed side phone and dialled 911. "Hello.... I need an ambulance at 22 Stone Avenue to pick up a.... a......burn victim?"

Last chapter is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10551-the-security-squad-part-4/ - - - It was several minutes later, and this individual unit of our Squad must have been released from the chair. This individual … I … was focused on my duty. In order to become useful for my country, Squad and sub-unit I had to improve myself. As in a dream, I stepped in file behind Bill, and with Sergeant Williams behind me. Bill entered the membrane, then I. We reached each of our stations at the same time, and stood for a moment between the active metal racks of our own stations, our legs broad apart, our boots firmly on the ground. My racks stood opposite Brad’s station, so I could see him well. I had Bill on my right. He faced Sergeant Williams on my left, closest to the membrane. We could feel and hear how the racks vibrated and hummed of power. All three of us grabbed our racks at the same moment, eagerly joining Brad in the enhancing process, and became living Zythronic conductors. The power hit me. The name of the Preparatory Phase was apt: It was just a preparation for the REAL power levels. I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a moan, when I felt how the power current flowed through me, causing my muscles to tense and relax, tense and relax in an upward-spiraling wave of energy. ”Increase levels to 65%”, a British voice instructed someone. Just a few seconds later, I could feel the rush of even more power. I felt pumped. More than pumped. All my muscles were engorged in an incredible way. Real growth was occurring at an unimaginable rate. And it happened to my brothers too: Williams, Bill. And Brad. Bill couldn’t control himself: ”Yeah! Fuck, yeah! Make me a fucking beast!” Sergeant Williams wasn’t speaking. He was immersed in the experience, his eyes shut, sweat trickling from his temples and his naked chest, causing his pecs to become shiny. His neck swelled into a bullneck, and, unlike Brad and me, his waist didn’t shrink noticeably. There had always been something ox-like about his shape, but that aspect was now enhanced and intensified, and it looked that Bill was evolving in that direction, too. Brad welcomed the increased power levels, shouting with his, now significantly deeper, voice: ”Good! So good! Don’t stop it! Keep going, keep going! Uhnnn… YES! More! Give me fucking more! Don’t hold back! I can take it!” He had always had a narrow waist, broad shoulders and a barrel-chest, but these traits were now enhanced in a way I couldn’t describe. I could feel the machine relentlessly work on myself, too — shaping me, making me harder, more defined. My abs felt like the proverbial cobblestones. My back like a brickwall. My former fragile self disappearing in the mindless power blaze, and a stronger, heavy, pain-resilient and confident me emerging out if its energetic forge. ”Increase levels to 75%”. ”Increasing levels to 75%, Sir!” A lesser man would now, undoubtedly, have felt excruciating growth pains, but the four of us had three bio-chemical formulas synergetically pumping in our bloodstreams, and the gradual rise of Zythronic power had raised our resilience to pain. Instead of pain, I felt a rush of pump, pleasure and power, when the energy levels increased and hit me. My hands instinctively cling and grabbed to the conductible racks, not letting any little bolt or spark of power escape my power-hungry brawn. Pump. Pleasure. Power. ”Zey vould now haf ze stamina to bear ze brunt of ze Vril Power. Be ready to avake ze Vril Power within ze test subjects. From vhat I gather, ze mesomorph is likely to handle it best, but I am eager to see its effect on ze ectomorph and ze two endomorphs, too. Ve didn’t have any opportunity to experiment on zeir bodytypes in ze past.” ”Warming up the Vril cannons, Herr Doktor Professor!” ”I hope for your soul and conscience, that you are right this time, Helmut. My heart would break if something happened to these fine boys. For heavens sake, we don’t even know what Vril really is!” Another sort of humming sound began to fill the chamber. Deeper. Like a heartbeat in a far off, long-forgotten, super-nova. Like a heartbeat in the depths of Earth. Like a heartbeat in the middle of my soul. Then, I shut my eyes, and was overwhelmed by black lightning in my mind, stars exploding in violet fire, the primordial song of Nature, and the feeling of something happening in my solar plexus and immeadiately under my navel. A force, that had slumbered inside me, unknown, and unbeware of its own existence, stirred in its sleep, increased in intensity and warmed me up. A sphere of unimaginable force formed between my solar plexus and my navel, then expanded in every direction, affecting my heart, my loins and dick, my legs, chest and back, my shoulders, my arms, hands and traps, my neck and my head. An otherworldly fire burnt in me. Changed me. It felt like I became taller. I had always been short. I grew taller! Like Brad! Like Brad? I opened my eyes. Radiation cannons hanging from the ceiling were emitting crackling bolts and currents of unholy power at each of us four — targets unable to resist, even if we had wanted to. But we didn’t want to resist. Bill was writhing in anabolic bliss, his hands crampingly clenching the Zythronic racks (as did the hands of us all). The heavy presence of Sergeant Williams stood erect and imposing, with his boot-clad feet heavily on the floor. Consumed by the Vril Power, I couldn’t focus, but absent-mindedly noticed, that the floor under Sergeant William’s conductible rack was strewn with unlit dark lenses. I then absent-mindedly noticed, that the same was true about the floor under Bill’s station and Brad’s. Brad! A ghostly shimmer in bronze and gold surrounded him, as it did surround us others, and his skin tone changed into a tan of the same hue as the shimmer, enhancing his mucle definition. He was growing taller — and that at a visible rate. His abs protruded with deep valleys between them, in a way never seen on another man, and his iliac furrow was second to none. His chest had always been impressive, but now it consisted of powerful, hard and well-defined slabs, which pulsated under the combined hypertrophic effect of the Zythronic Field, the Vril Power and the three formulas in our bloodstreams. ”Lyet us now see, which effect, if any, the completyon of Procedyure 59 will have on the specimens. The addyition of nano-technology will have removed the drawbacks from the old version”, an unknown voice said in an Eastern European accent. The Texan answered: ”Better let Procedure 59 go in tandem with Project Atlas. We don’t know how a one-sided treatment would affect the sensitive balance between the two biochemical formulas. And it is better to let the nano-formula work together with the DNA-alteration.” ”Very well”, a comparatively young voice said. ”Warming up both radiation-emittors.” The machine had become a chorus now. Four different contraptions worked in symphony, for the common purpose of transforming me and my brothers into something more than human. The dark optical lenses in the floor, which I had wondered about in a never finished thought, now lit up in an increasingly purple light, and, meanwhile, a blue light, of the same colour as a tanning bed’s, rained down on us from the ceiling, increasing its intensity. The chamber was filled by a blinding multi-coloured light, bathing us all in incomprehensible power. I was no longer conscious about my whereabouts, I just had a very intense and peasurable feeling of expansion. I felt weightless and heavy, as the Earth itself. I was giving myself to this programme. Whatever doubts I could have had in the past were leaving me. I was rid of hesitation. I was now unable to feel fear. The safety for my Squad was my first concern. The security of my country and my Lord Protector was my ultimate concern. I was ready to perform my duty, to protect my brothers in arms, to defend my country against all domestic and foreign enemies — especially domestic. I felt how all inhibations were removed. I was ready to harm or kill an opponent, if necessary, and I would never question a given order. Insubordination is a disgrace. Insubordination is not an option. In… In… What was that word again? I am an obedient individual unit of this Squad, programmed for duty and obedience. Yeah. A real patriot. Serving the greatest leader we ever had. Serving the greatest country on Earth. We have never had it so good. Defend. Yeah. Protect. Defend and protect. Oh, yes! Feeling of expansion. Weightless and heavy. Inhibations removed. So horny. Wanted to snog Brad, my Sergeant. ”What does the readings say?” ”They are all approaching 7 feet, Sir, but their weight-curves behaves according to their individual constitutions and conditions. The mesomorph now weighs 484 lbs. The circumference of his chest is now 90 inches, and his waist 45 inches. His arms 39 inches and his quads 48 inches. As for the others…” I wasn’t able to hear my own meaasurements. The intensity of the power currents were too much, and I was lost in the feeling of unfathomable growth. ”Awaiting further instructions.” ”Keep everything at the present levels, for now.” ”Gentlemen, as you can see we have succeeded: Four separate enhancement projects, that once caused extraordinary results, while still separate, have today been succesfully combined, in order to reach an even higher level of perfection.” ”I very much doubt, that we can proceed any further, by manually controlling the processes from here. Do you think it is time, to test the helmet?” ”You know what I think. Why risk to spoil a succesful experiment with a not enough tested brainwave-coordinator?” ”I say: Let us give the brainwave-helmet a try. At this moment the specimens alone knows how much they could endure, and the fine-tuning is better left to someone, who experience the procedure himself.” ”I am still against it. It is too early.” ”Let’s vote then.” ”Five against two. It is decided then. One of them have to pick the helmet up, and use it.” ”Which one?” ”Does it matter? Pick anyone.” ”I vould vote for ze mesomorph. Look how good he has reaced to the treatment!” ”Oh it doesn’t matter. The mesomorph then.” ”Sergeant Smith? Sergeant Smith, do you hear me?” I could hear the deep voice of my friend Brad. His voice was deeper now. ”Sir, yes Sir!” ”Do you see a helmet on the floor in the growth chamber? A high-tech helmet, belonging to the equipment?” ”Oh. Yes. Aaahrrrgh. Y-yes, I see it.” ”Do you feel all right?” ”Sir? All right? I feel more than… Oh! Uhmmmm… Fuck, yes! Sorry, Sir. Yes, I feel more than all right.” ”Good to hear. Do you think, that you could pick the helmet up, and wear it?” ”Is that an order, Sir?” ”Yes. Pick it up, and wear it. You will be able to control and co-ordinate the processes that affect you and your three mates of this sub-unit. Use your discernment, and improve yourself and your team-mates as much as you deem possible and desirable.” ”Sir! The order will be executed! Improve according to possibility and desireability!” The power flickered for a moment. Then it increased in a much more subtle and seamless way than before. Something else guided the processes, than before — something able to understand the power and the growth intimately. And that something was my friend Brad, my Sergeant. Williams, Bill and myself had all surrendered to what Brad deemed possible to achieve and desireable to achive, and we were clay in the hands of a potter, molten iron at the will of a caster, heated iron before the hammer of an all-powerful smith eager to forge the perfect weapon. The hair on my forearms bristled, and it felt like a sensual, immaterial fluid, both cold and hot at the same time, ran from the backside of my head down on my entire body. I felt how the beams, rays and power currents merged into something unknown, and I felt how an even more fierce and irresistible wave of Vril Power erupted within me, and I was consumed by its ecstatic embrace. Brad stood at his station, his trousers bursting at the seams, revealing calves bigger than rugby balls (but still growing), tree trunk hamstrings and striated quads. Black leather lay in fragments on the floor under him, but what was left of his trousers formed tight, black and glossy shorts around his lower waist, glutes and groin. The golden-bronze hue of his upper body and naked legs contrasted with the shiny black of his shorts and boots. He was a living embodiment of masculinity beyond all restrictions and limitations, and I knew, that the same was true about myself and the other two. The field around him intensified ever more at the will, and at the urge to grow, of the Sergeant we all wanted to serve and obey, who was my best friend. ”The Zythronic Field is approaching 90%!” ”Shut it down! Levels this high are unaccounted for. We are now in unknown territory.” ”I vant to know ze upper limits of zis programme. Vait anozer minute!” ”90% and rising. Vril Power at 85% and increasing!” ”92.5% and rising. Vril Power at 90%. This is too much!” We shuddered at the impact of the transformation process, but we didn’t want the experiment to be aborted. Not now! ”The generators can’t take it anymore!” The room outside blacked down. The loudspeakers went silent. All available energy was directed to the growth chamber, and Brad’s face was glowing by a lustful and triumphant facial expression. His entire physique was emitting lights. He closed his eyes and moaned, louder and louder. His head arched backwards. ”IMPROVE!”, Brad bellowed. In the next moment, ineffable power currents crackled from his eyes, and hit Williams and Bill, who convulsed and roared under the impact. A similar power current was emitted from Brad’s leather-clad groin and hit mine. I BECAME strength itself. I don’t know what I shouted or which noises I might have emitted. I felt like I could crush rocks and steel with my bare hands, and my back felt like a mountain of brawn. I became dimly aware of movement. With an unfathomable amount of will-power, Brad had let go of his Zythronic rack, and was moving into the middle of the chamber. When he reached the centre of the chamber, I had a short respite to recuperate, and I noticed, that the same was true about Williams and Bill. The lenses, above and below the station Brad had left, went out, which allowed the lenses in the middle of the chamber to intensify. All Vril cannons now turned, so that they pointed in one and the same direction, the cones of light converging in one single point: The centre were Brad stood, eagerly awaiting their brutal impact. And when they hit him, his obscenely engorged muscle mass erupted in further hypertrophy. For a moment, he staggered under the amount of energy, but then recovered his balance, now with a more unwavering and confident stance than ever before. He arched back, lifted his arms and did a double biceps, roaring: ”IMPROVE!” The Vril cannons turned, as they would have a life of their own, back to their original stations, with one exception. The cannons, which had originally been focussed on Brad’s station, were now hitting him in his back. The lenses, at the station Brad had left, were still unlit, and the unused power rushed to the three remaining stations, sending me and the others into heightened anabolic frenzy. ”Yes! More!”, Bill shouted. Sergeant Smith… Brad… approached me. His godlike shape stood for a moment before me, his back bombarded by the Vril cannons (also affecting me, when the Vril Rays continued through him into me) and his brawn sharing the rush of rays bathing us from above and below. He looked me into my eyes, and said: ”I have told you before. I feel proud to grow you. I love to grow you. And now I am able to do it without limits. There is no ’too much’. I want more. I want to be extreme. I want you to be extreme. Join me, Joe. Join me.” Without further ado, he sunk on his knees before me, and slowly began to unbutton the fly of my black leather shorts. One button. Two. Three. Leaving the uppermost one intact behind the belt. He reached out his big paw and released my wildly pulsating rod. I didn’t believe what happened. The next moment, my Sergeant, who was my best friend, had swallowed my rod and placed his hands on my leather-clad glutes. Zythronic Power flowed through me at insane levels, and through me into Brad. Vril cannons, intended to expose two separate stations, now relentlessly irradiated one single station, where I stood, with my powerful legs wide apart, and with an ever growing titanic friend between my legs, robbing me of the last traces of coherence. I couldn’t resist. I let go. And while Brad sucked me off, he transformed myself and himself. ”Oh, Sarge. Oh, Brad. I’m, oh! So beyond all… Oh! What’s happening?” My thews throbbed of strength. My beef became uncrushable. My shoulders and chest must have expanded in a behemothic way, but I was lost in bliss and ecstacy. My mind was lost in unwavering loyalty to my country, my Leader and my Sergeant (who is my friend Brad). And my friend Brad forcefully crammed hitherto unknown levels of power into me. ”Oh. Uhnn. Real ace. So good. So much. So much. So.. Uhnnn. No! NO! IT’S TOO MUCH! I can’t bear it!” A real squaddie obey orders. Sarge has given an order. Improve. There is no ’too much’. Sarge… Brad want me to be extreme. He want me to join him. A real squaddie obey orders. It isn’t something dangerous. Brutally good. Can’t bear it, can’t handle all this! But I will, because a real squaddie obey orders. Even if it kills me, I will die feeling levels of strength no man has experienced before me. And if I survive, I will be a weaponised man. A soldier of a sort the world has never seen before. Together with my brothers. Together with Brad. ”Oh! Oh! Oh, yes! IMPROVE! Want more! Crave strength! MORE! Yes! Increase! Yes! Overwhelm me, Brad! Raw! Pure! Brutal! Nnnn. Overwhelm me! What are you doing to me? What are you making me into? It’s too much! Never too much! Never too much! Increase! Enhance! POWER!” I was Strength. I was Power. I was raw, primitive, brutal Masculinity. I was Virility unbound, free to roam the world. I was a living thunderstorm. I was a powerhouse. I was a living nuclear explosion. I was what Brad wanted me to be. During the final minutes of the growth process, I was lost in mindless ecstasy. Moans, grunts, roars and bellows were heard, accompanied by the terrifying noise of crackling power. Since the entire chamber was connected to Brad’s brainwaves, when he reached orgasm, so did the chamber and all the test-subjects within. - - - Next chapter is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10744-the-security-squad-part-six/

Last chapter is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10530-the-security-squad-part-3/ The Security Squad: Part 4 It was dark. No, it was just what Brad called chiaroscuro. And warm and pleasant. Like I floated in emptiness. With Brad. Friend. Close. But then Brad's face melted and became the face of Bill. "I told you, I would give you hell, Joe". An unfamiliar German voice said: "Hell. Hölle." And then the person who was Brad or Bill catched fire, and he grabbed me and carried me, and I catched fire. And we screamed. I screamed. I tried to scream, but I couldn't. And then I woke up. It was just a nightmare. I felt dizzy. But rather warm and pleasant. Where? And then I remembered the chaotic memory fragments: Sergeant Williams carrying me into the room with the IVs. Plastic bags containing the dangerous-looking green liquid hang there, ready to flow into the veins of defenceless and unknowing test subjects. But I knew. I had read the files. The potentially deadly consequences. And the strange assertive veiny vigour Brad had exuberated in the gym. How I struggled. A glimpse of a white coat. A sting. Blackness. I looked up in the ceiling. I felt something strange in my arm. The bag with green liquid was just emptying its last content into me. There was no return. It already flowed in my system. I felt warm. Warm and horny. I was no longer just a recruit to the Squad. I was a test subject. One of the test subjects. One of the chosen few. Chosen together with Brad. I didn't want to feel pleased by that, but there was something inside me, that felt pleased with that. I felt like I could lift... lift heavy things. Like rocks. One of the anonymous medics in his late 30s or early 40s checked me. "Let me remove that drip, Private Wilson. You don't need it any longer." It was removed before I was able to answer, and a plaster was fastened over the vein. Veins. "How do you feel?" He checked my blood pressure. "I feel warm." "That happens sometimes. It happened to your friend, Sergeant Smith, too. It isn't something dangerous. Isn't something dangerous. The thought floated through my mind. Wasn't I supposed to be concerned about something? I didn't remember. Something about danger. But the Doctor said, that it isn't something dangerous. Felt good. "I feel good, Doc." "Good to hear that. You are soon going to join your brothers in arms." Brothers in arms. Sounded good. Like a real patriot. Wait. Didn't someone say that before? It felt good. I thought it again: Yeah! LIKE A REAL PATRIOT. I got hard again. It felt good to be a part of the Security Squad. Real men. Real men are not afraid of danger. It isn't something dangerous. The bed had wheels. Doc easily rolled my bed into another chamber. Didn't I know that door? Didn't that look familiar? Laboratory III. Was I supposed to know what that is? There were lots of men in white coats. Many of them were very old and wrinkled. Grey or white hair. Or bald. And big Guards. Yeah. I belonged. Belonged to the same Squad as the big Guards. I wanted to become a big Guard myself one day. Together with Brad. Sleepily I blinked. Sergeant Williams was there. And Brad. Sergeant Smith. Sergeant Smith is Brad. The sergeants were dressed in the same trousers as Bill and I, but unlike us they had uniform shirts. Two strange chairs with technical contrapments stood against a wall, but it was the machine with the chamber, which attracted all the attention. A sort of machine. I reached for a word. I was supposed to know it. A console? And a chamber of glass and steel and some sort of door-thingy. Membrane? And inside the chamber a man. One of my comrades in arms. Private... Private Tannen. Bill. I was supposed to have an opinion about Bill. But he was a brother in arms now. Inside that chamber. Something interesting happened to Bill. He was stripped to the waist. His belly was disappearing. And his cheeks were becoming smaller. Is that normal? He was standing there inside the chamber, between two racks of metal, connected to the chamber. Sparks and bolts were emitted from the rack. And Bill was holding them. So something was conducted into Bill. It isn't something dangerous. His face. Didn't I like his face before? How couldn't I like the face of someone, who was willing to watch my back in combat? Like Brad? Bill looked angelic now. His face in bliss. He moaned something. "Warrior! Yes! Make me into a warrior! I love this feeling!" It sounded nice. It sounded like something I wanted to experience. Why did I feel so sleepy? My friend Brad, who is Sergeant Smith, walked close to me. He spoke to me in a hushed voice. "I'm sorry Joe. I would have prepared you for this. I didn't believe that the stuff would affect me like this. It sounded so good. It sounded like everything I had day-dreams about in the past, but in real life. And then the terrifying accidents happened, and I wanted to cop out, but they had already given me the preparatory treatment. And it IS good. I have never felt like this before, at just the Preparatory Phase. Just imagine what the next Phases could do, if there is no accident. But I thought I could resist it better. I am not sure, what will happen to me in the next phase." "Use the helmet, Brad.", I murmured. "Helmet? Which helmet? What are you talking about?" "You will control and co-ordinate all processes with the helmet. Not them." He frowned, but we were not able to continue our talk. The scientists were discussing the things they were doing. An aloof British voice talked: "As you have all seen, everything needed in Phase One was to reverse the polarity of the neutron flow, and prepare the test subjects with a Preparatory Phase of Zythronic Fields, as our notations from the 40s suggested. By that, their stamina would increase, and with increased stamina, they would better endure the awakening of the Vril Power — or so we have reason to believe. This time, we will have one mesomorph test subject, one endomorph test subject and... I see that the ectormorph test subject is awake. Will you please inject him, Mr. Jackson?" Mr. Jackson, an elderly man, who walked like he had served a long time in the Armed Forces, grabbed something that looked like a pen on a metal table, and walked towards me. "Dont worry Private. It will soon be over." He put the pen towards my belly, and pressed. A brief pain, which soon receded. "The two formulas interacted well in the mesomorph test subject and the endomorph test subject. Will you please remove the endomorph from the chamber, Sergeant Smith?" The scientists turned the knobs of metal and plastic on the console, and pressed some buttons. The humming subsided. Bill looked up with a slightly disappointed expression. Brad helped him out of the chamber. When Bill had left the chamber, he walked to me. I was wary. His eyes were unfocused, but to my surprise he shone up in a smile. ”Wilson? Joe. Didn’t know they were going to give you the treatment, too. We are brothers in arms, then, I suppose. Don’t worry, bro. I might have behaved badly in the past, but if the awesome Sergeant Williams and Sergeant Smith want me to watch your back out on a mission, I will. Otherwise the mission could fail, and this Squad never fails. I love how our ranks are filled with more and more patriots. I love this treatment and my Squad. Welcome aboard, bro.” With his eyes still unfocused he surprised me a with heavy and warm hug. "Sergeant Smith, please help Private Wilson inside the chamber." My friend Brad helped me up from the bed. I still felt dizzy, but also energetic. The membrane felt strange. We pressed against it, and then we were inside the chamber. I noticed something on the floor: a helmet fitting the description I had read somewhere at some point in time. I couldn't remember. "That helmet, Brad. Control and co-ordinate." Brad nodded absent-mindedly, like he didn’t seem to listen to what I said. He helped me stand between two of the metal racks. There were several pairs of metal racks, like several men were able to go through the same thing at the same time. Wait! Were they going to do the same thing to me, as they did to Bill? I had almost no fat at all on my body. Wouldn't this be dangerous? Oh. I forgot. It isn't something dangerous. "Grab these racks, Joe. It will feel nice. It did, when they did this to me. It will give you stamina." "Uhu? Whatever you say, Brad. Sorry, Sergeant Smith." Brad smiled. Then he leaned toward me, and whispered: "I love you, Joe.", and left the chamber. A humming began. I wasn't aware of the changes that began to happen simultaneously in my organism. The green infusion and the small injection began to interact inside me. My DNA was rebuilt, my metabolism was rearranged, my hormone levels changed, but I wasn't aware about any of that. The only thing I was aware of was the power current, that flowed into the rack, and I was the conductor, that closed the circuit and let all that power flow through myself -- changing me, permanently and irrevocably. In that moment, the old Joe began to disappear. Something inside me tried to catch my attention: Something about principles, something about danger, but my dizzy mind let it go, and I lost myself in the overwhelming feeling of the transformative power. I had no idea, for how long I had stood there, when the humming subsided. I heard the loudspeakers transmitting sounds from outside: "Sergeant Smith, will you please remove Private Wilson from Preparatory Phase?" Brad was there. He helped me to the membrane and to the room outside. The two younger scientists rose. One of them took a blood sample from me and checked my blood pressure. The other one put two electrodes to Brad’s temples, and checked a graph — then let Brad look into a gadget which looked it would belong at an optician’s. ”I believe Sergeant Smith is in need of further treatment of your’s, Doctor Pushkin.” An elderly man with an Eastern European accent glanced at Sergeant Williams: ”Sergeant Williams. Will you please strap Sergeant Smith to that chair.” Sergeant Williams obeyed without a word. There was a slight flickering in Brad’s eyes, but he allowed Williams to fasten him to one of the chairs close to the wall. The chair was connected to cables and tubes, and had an uncanny resemblance to an electrical chair, but obviously it wasn’t. ”Sergeant Williams, please pull the switch.” When the switch was pulled, Brad tensed, and if his arms hadn’t been restrained, he would probably had fallen out of the chair. His mouth was open, like he was attempting to let out a scream, but no sound appeared. With a silent whirring sound, an injection needle moved robotically, and buried itself in Brad’s cartoid artery, before removing itself. Brad’s eyes were firmly shut. Likewise whirringly, two small metallic arms with moist electrodes lowered themselves 90 degrees, until they firmly touched Brad’s temples. This time, he was able to scream. A horrible scream echoed in the room, as the last traces of my friend Brad, as I had once knewn him, were erased from his soul, just leaving the Sergeant. The Squad Member. The obedient living weapon. He shaked in the chair for ten or fifteen seconds, and the restraints kept him in his seat, but then the shaking receded. Sweat trickled from his brow. The chemicals within his body must have responded to the treatment, because something else was happening. His neck tightened, and the upper buttons of his uniform shirt were no longer able to resist the pressure. The vein-covered, firm and hemispheric flesh, that was his pecs, forced themselves out of his shirt, and his sleeves were no longer able to resist the pressure from his swelling bicepses. Soon, his shirt laid in tatters on the floor Commanded by the scientists, Sergeant Williams released Brad, who stood up erect, his eyes dead, and awaiting orders. His face didn’t express any emotions. ”Let’s give this a test. Sergeant Smith, please remove Private Wilson’s t-shirt.” ”Sir! Yes, sir!” Without further ado, Sergeant Smith helped me remove my black t-shirt. ”Sergeant Smith, please strap Private Wilson to the chair.” There was nothing I could do. Sergeant Smith forced me to sit in the chair, and by his overwhelming strength he fastened the leather straps around my wrists, forced my leather-clad legs broad apart, and strapped them to the legs of the chair. Sergeant Smith looked quizzically at the scientists, but they shook their heads. ”Not yet. Other things first. You are ready for Phase 2.” - - - "Joe! Join me!” The deep voice of my best friend reached out to me from the growth-chamber. I was half-naked, and surrounded by the grey-haired scientists in white lab coats and the Guards in their intimidating and ultra-masculine uniforms. How did I end up in this terrifying situation? The machines connected to the chamber were humming louder now, and the intensity of the Zythronic Field surrounding Brad must have been much greater, than the preparatory treatment Bill, myself (and probably Sergeant Williams) had gone through. Brad stood at one of the stations, clenching the racks as his life depended on it, stripped to his waist, but still wearing his uniform cargo trousers of black and glossy leather and his heavy boots. He was a living conductor for the heighetened Zythronic Field, and his physique was responding to the treatment. His growth was visible, his bulging torso was covered in sweat, and between the moans and grunts he emitted, he tried to say something: ”Joe! Join me!” ”Zythronic racks working at a level of 45%”, one of the scientists said. ”Increase to 50%”, another answered. ”This is the most stable result we have had, yet.” ”Increasing to 50%. The levels now at 47.5% and increasing… Reaching 50%… Now!” ”Why don’t we save some time, and let the ectomorph specimen go through his conditioning?” ”You are right. Private Tannen, please pull the switch of Private Wilson’s chair.” Bill approached. ”You will become one of us, Joe. There is nothing you can do to stop it.” The effect of of the mind-altering medication must have worn off by then. For a few seconds, I remembered all that had happened: The worry for losing Brad, the atrocious experiments, how I had promised Karen to spy on the Security Squad, in the hope to restore democracy, but it would all be lost, if the Squad succeeded in brainwashing me, as they obviously had done to Sergeant Williams, to Bill and to Brad. Facing the risk of the same death as the burned man, facing the risk of the same death as the giant who was shot, and facing the imminent risk of becoming a mind-controlled machine, I panicked in the chair. But it was too late. The next second, Bill turned the switch on. To be continued. - - - Next chapter is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10576-the-security-squad-part-5/

Last chapter is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10522-the-security-squad-part-1/ The Security Squad: Part 2 News-reports about the so-called Security Squad were rare, and only reported about successful operations to prevent terrorist attacks. If what the news agencies reported, about the Security Squad, had been entirely true and the entire truth, The Squad would have been a force for the good -- as far as that was possible, under our contemporary regime -- but many of us doubted the accuracy of the news we heard or read. Many of us. Not all of us. Some neighbours, even those who initially had objected to the re-structuring of our political system, gradually moved into acceptance of the status quo. Some of us heard the whispered rumours: About disappearances of those critical to The Leader. About sinister operations by the Security Squad. About rebels of several stripes not able to agree with each other. Brad had been drafted before he could finish his studies in Ancient history and Archaeology. I had finished a Master Degree, and found work at a computer company. Brad had been away for six months, until he was permitted one week of leave. He spent two days with his parents, but had told me, that he would be glad to spend time with me. I didn't know what to expect. He had switched back to civilian clothes -- mostly. He was wearing his favourite type of jeans and Adidas trainers, but his black t-shirt was printed in white with the heraldic crest of the Security Squad, and, since the weather was cold, he was wearing a shiny black bomber jacket. His former stylish haircut was changed into a stern jarhead cut. The bones of his face were more discernable than before. He had had that look twice before, shortly before competitions. That meant, that the Squad kept his bodyfat low. If he had been a friendly and intellectual bro before, he now felt intimidating. Was this the same person I knew, any longer, or had they succeeded in turning him into a stranger? "Hello, Joe! Long time, no see! I am glad to see you." There was something about the voice. Different. Military. Mixed feelings erupted. They had taken him from me, and turned him into a willing instrument for them. But there was also something thrilling about my close friend being a Squad-member. Dangerous. Able to explode into action. Into God knows what violent acts. I felt worried for him. "What about a meal? I can afford it now." We both knew a restaurant with a menu friendly towards the habits of fitness buffs and bodybuilders. The meal was decent enough, but it scarred my soul to listen to Brad's new jingoistic vocabulary. "I am proud to serve the greatest Leader our country has ever had, and I am proud to serve the greatest country on Earth. We have never had it so good." Brad suggested a walk in the park, and, without any greater amount of enthusiasm, I accepted. "Some chewing gum after dinner? I brought your favourite." Chewing gum? Favourite? I had never liked chewing gums very much. Brad passed me a thin and long chewing gum of a very old fashioned sort. The tinfoil paper looked like it was used. I unwrapped it. Someone had written on the gum stick with a pencil: Don't say something compromising. I turned it around: We might be bugged. "Aren't you going to chew it?" "Thinking about it -- that sort is so thin, that you need two or three pieces, to have something to chew on." He passed me another chewing gum. The tinfoil paper looked used on this one, too. More pencilled words: They try to break me. I'm still the same. and on the backside: Just play along. "Do you have any time for exercise any longer, Brad? "That's the best thing with the Squad. Some exercise is mandatory, and exercise on our spare time is encouraged. How about your own exercise?" I felt embarrassed. Without Brad around to push me, I didn't train as often as we had done together, before he was conscripted. "So and so. Not like before." "I can see that. You look thinner than before." Suddenly he looked concerned. He put his hand on my shoulder. We sat close to each other, like we used to do before. Despite his attempt to assuring messages (that was actually quite alarming), I felt worried. Nothing would become the same again. Bugged? Saying something compromising? I was very glad to see him, and he hugged me several times, but a lot of things were not like before. The days came and went. He returned to his base. - - - A month later, an envelope, that looked very official, arrived in my postbox. I couldn't believe my eyes. A conscription draft. Me? Of all persons... The Security Squad? Who has gone insane among the authorities? I was supposed to take a train to the station so-and-so, and would receive further orders when there. My world crumbled. The small corner of normality, which I had tried to uphold in a mad time, was robbed from me. My reasonably good job. My reasonably good flat. I worked the next day in a dazed state. I arranged for one of my cousins to take over my flat. I ate at one of my usual places, which, I am sad to admit, wasn't the healthy place with all the egg-white omelettes and whey-muffins. A woman, who looked vaguely familiar, sat down at my table without asking. I looked up. "Karen? It's years! What are you doing here?" She smiled, but I couldn't free myself from the impression, that the smile was somewhat artificial. "I'm visiting old relatives. As you know..." She laid a paper napkin in front of me. A paper napkin with text. Please spy on Security Squad. Don't show surprise. We'll contact you. "... my parents are dead, but I have several other relatives left in town." "Town", I said with some irritation. "Small city, then. What are you doing nowadays?" "Working with computers. Yourself?" "I'm writing articles for a magazine about engineering. Oh forgive me..." She sneezed, and blew her nose in the paper napkin. The ink must have been soluble, since the text turned into a blurry blot. She swiftly pressed the napkin into a little ball. The evening continued. My world was becoming even more confused, but I tried to keep a good facade. I have no idea, about how well I managed. - - - Yellow leaves were falling from the trees, in the alley close to the railway station. I was wandering around the station building, waiting for other travellers to disperse. I suspected, that the personel from Security Squad wouldn't blatantly advertise about the exact location of one of their bases, even if such things seldomly would be hidden from the locals for any longer time. I wasn't the only one, who seemed to wait for some sort of transport. Three other men seemed to wait, and seemed to not be from these whereabouts. I observed one of them. It couldn't be... Not him! But it was. Bill from first to sixth grade. He was now in his mid-20s, and his face was of course more mature than it had been then, but he had kept the visage of a bulldog, and time hadn't robbed him from his baby-fat, but turned it into the belly of an over-weight young man, instead. I hadn't seen him for almost ten years. What was he doing here? A bus arrived. The driver was wearing some sort of non-descript uniform, and it was hard to guess which branch of the armed forces he belonged to. "Documents, please." All four of us fumbled after our drafts, and having checked them and our ID cards, he allowed us aboard the bus. We left the railway station behind. The base was located one hour into nowhere, and surrounded by a bleak and autumnal landscape. It was already becoming dark. The moment we left the bus, a man in a very intimidating uniform left one of the buildings, and stood before us. His uniform trousers were made of black leather. He was wearing a black army sweater of wool, with some extra padding at the elbows and shoulders. His army boots were heavy, and looked high tech. "Recruits! I am Sergeant Williams, and you will soon regret the day you met me. I will be your worst nightmare. I will break you, and I will rebuild you into harder, better, faster, stronger men, so that you will better serve your country and your Leader. But first, you will all collect your equipment in that building. No questions. You will be briefed later." The Sergeant was scaring the shit out of me, but not only me. With some glee, I noticed, that the Sergeant had frightened Bill, too. We jogged in the direction of the building, and collected our equipment. Though wearing the same sort of uniform as Sarge, the man behind the counter was slightly less frightening, and adviced us about the whereabouts of the barracks. I began to put my civilian clothes into a locker, and put some of my equipment into it, which took some time. "I don't know what the hell you are doing here, Joe, but I will make your life a hell." I knew that voice. I turned around. It was Bill. I don't know how he had managed, but he had already changed into uniform. Obviously, it could change the appearance even of a man with a belly. I felt trapped. Memories from the past rose to the surface of my mind. Schoolyards. Shouting children. Rubble in my palm. "How slow are you weak sissies actually?", a voice roared. It was the Sergeant again. "You were given this much time, and none of you has managed to fill your locker in an orderly way and change into uniform." I glanced in the direction of Bill's locker. He had spent his time changing, but had left both his civilian clothes and his equipment in a heap in front of his locker. The Sergeant continued to roar: "I give you five minutes." I am not able to describe the following days in any detail. They are a blur of running with equipment, shouting, inspections, push-ups and surprise awakenings. I remember the scent of shoe polish, leather, wet wool and male sweat. A positive aspect of those days was, that Bill never had the time or opportunity to make any threats into reality, and, since he was in worse physical condition than I, he was generally exhausted. I still didn't know, why two such unsuitable persons like myself and Bill had been recruited. - - - For some time, the men who had arrived with me (and those who had arrived with some communications immediately before and after us) were kept isolated from the other men, but, one day, that limitation was lifted. I was eating lunch, noticing, that the quality of the food had improved. For days, we had eaten food rich in starch, but not containing much else, but now we were given fish, egg halves, omelettes and low-fat yoghurt, among other things. Someone sat down on the empty chair opposite my own. I looked up. It was Brad. I hadn't seen him in uniform before. He was the type of person, which this uniform was designed for, to begin with. His black, woolen sweater enhanced the forms of his shoulders, traps and chest. His narrow waist was obvious for everyone. The black leather trousers with pockets on their legs made him look more dangerous than Sarge. His face was less gaunt, than when we had met the last time, and he was radiant of health. "Your new haircut suits you, Private. Makes you look much more masculine." Brad nodded at my jarhead cut. "Brad!" "No, not when we are on duty. I'm Sergeant Smith now. Williams is not the only Sergeant around, as you will notice. But I am glad to see you." "Permission to speak, Sir!" "Granted." "What am I doing here, Sir? Any records of physical tests must show, that I am not of the same ability as yourself, Sir!" "I am not able to reveal any classified information, Private, but I am assured, that you will soon be briefed. How have you endured recent time?" "Sergeant Williams has enhanced my cardio, Sergeant, but I am not used to army life. I'm rather good at keeping my locker neat." "I see. Your schedule is filled with activity most of the time, and so is mine, but let us see, if we can talk more when our times for recreation overlap." To be continued. The story continues here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10530-the-security-squad-part-3/

The Security Squad : Part 1 "Joe! Join me!" The deep voice of my best friend reached out to me from the growth-chamber. I was half-naked, and surrounded by the grey-haired scientists in white lab coats and the Guards in their intimidating and ultra-masculine uniforms. How did I end up in this terrifying situation? I met Brad in Upper Secondary, back in the mid-10s. Although both of us had reached voting-age, when the infamous election took place, none of us bothered to vote. None of the candidates appealed to us (but for different reasons), so we voted with our feet. Afterwards, we regretted that decision. The other candidates had all been rather bad, but when The Leader grabbed political power, the country turned for the worse. I very much doubt, that most of the voters, who brought The Leader to his position, wanted him to do, what he did next. By a decree -- initially, but not for long, evaluated as un-constitutional -- he dissolved the Houses of Congress, merged them into The House of Councillors, and turned the decisions of the body into just an advisory function. He dismissed some of the judges of the Supreme Court, and named himself Lord Protector of the Realm, but in everyday speech most of us referred to him as The Leader. Brad and I were not interested in politics enough, to be initially aware of all that was happening, but Karen, an eighteen year old young woman in my class, was very concerned. I liked to be around Karen for several reasons. The number of female students in Science-and-Engineering classes are still usually half the number of male students in the same classes, and it is a pleasant surprise, when someone of the opposite sex share one's own fields of interest and plans for future occupation. Her chestnut-coloured hair, her green eyes and the dimple in her chin might have added to her appeal. Too many of the girls (now becoming women) preferred young men like Brad. I met Brad in Spanish class and French class, since those classes were composed of students from both Science-and-Engineering and Arts-and-Humanities. If you expect male students from the Arts-and-Humanities programme to be short, thin and shy, Brad didn't meet those expectations. I was initially wary of him, since he reminded me too much of my tormentors in Primary School and Lower Secondary. Brad was tall. His chest and broad shoulders filled out his baseball jacket in a way, that was impossible to ignore, and he had a preference for black Adidas trainers. His blond hair was carefully formed at the top of his head, but the sides and the backside of his head were shaved. I had avoided him the first weeks, by the reasons I have already mentioned, but one afternoon he suddenly took a seat opposite mine in the student cafeteria, and began to chat like we had known each others for years. I was taken by surprise, and still prejudiced against his appearance, but, to make a very long story short, he turned out to be a very friendly and likeable person: A true friend. I quickly found out, that he wasn't interested in engineering or programming, and I wasn't the person to discuss Latin with, but we liked watching the same films -- especially the non-stop flood of action-films based on comics pouring out those days -- and we played computer games together. Unlike me, he was dancing and drinking in Fridays and Saturdays, but, from what I gathered, his alcohol intake was very restrained compared to some other students, since he didn't want to spoil his training results. Before meeting Brad, I expected all muscleheads to be ignorant fools, bullies or both of the above, but he caused me to form a second opinion. His cheerful personality, his interest in history and literature (especially ancient heroic myths), and his almost protective behaviour towards me, all contributed to my re-evaluation of those who attend gyms. It was when I struggled with my last year before University he came up with the idea: "Why don't you join me at the gym? I have heard you a thousand times, bro: That you don't have time. But believe me -- your brain will work much better with some regular exercise." I didn't know what to answer. Many different thoughts and feelings ran in all and every direction, leaving me confused. A weird feeling wiggled and twisted in my belly: Working out? Like Brad? Becoming at least a little bit more like Brad? M-muscles? And another feeling screamed in my head: There are big guys at the gym. Dangerous. Like my old bullies. Danger. Threat. And a third feeling. Revulsion. Socially unacceptable. I would never fit in at University or find a decent job looking the least bit like a stupid bro. The weird feeling wiggled and twisted. Muscles. Like Brad. Join him. At the gym. I do no longer remember what I answered him. I just remember, that the last year in Upper Secondary became a pleasant surprise. No-one treated me badly at the gym Brad frequented. The bodybuilders were either too occupied with their exercises to notice me, or were happy to give advice. There were a few overweight kids who struggled with their own kind of problems, and the fitness guys of my own age -- who might or might not have caused me trouble -- did behave well enough, probably because Brad was around. Brad was right. Exercise is good for study results. I left each workout tired, but with great calm and great focus. Physically, the effects were not amazing. Brad used the word "hardgainer" about my condition, but I, at least, developed a lean, fat-free physique with hints of toned muscles. I didn't belong to the same body type as Brad. Summer came. We finished Upper Secondary. Some of us students began to work. Some became unemployed. Karen left for an upper end University far away. We exchanged a few e-mails, letters and phonecalls, but the time between each grew longer and longer apart. Perhaps we weren't meant for each other. Neither the Technological University nor the University of our minor city are especially renowned, but I began to study at the TU, and Brad began his studies at the latter one. Remaining in our home city, we could continue our weekly habits. A democracy wasn't supposed to be like this. House of Councillors? Advisory function? In order to defend our freedom against terrorism? Closing our borders from foreign trade? Making our country great again? Instill deeper patriotism? Personally, I could agree, that the domestic religious nutcases, who claimed that The Leader was Anti-Christ, behaved like terrorists (blowing a few bombs at government buildings), but I became wary, when supporters of that former Senator Saunders were mass-arrested. Ironically, my neighbour on the other side of the road, sympathised with the action against the Saunders-followers, but was alarmed by the action taken against the violent Christian Right. It was shortly before the newspapers and the TV channels stopped reporting about these subjects. I knew, that this state of affairs wasn't right, but what could I do? What could lawfully be done against this subversion of what a democracy was supposed to be? Some student organisations formed protests in one of our squares. The third time, it was interrupted by the Police, and there wasn't any fourth time. Both Brad and I had attended the first two protests, but weren't present at the third one, more out of a co-incidence than anything else. I hadn't reflected much over my own sexuality before. We had all come of age, at a time when same-sex marriages were already in place and attitudes in society had begun to change, but, at the same time, all adults around us expected us to be straight -- especially adults like my neighbour across the road. There were two events that caused me to begin thinking. Brad and I returned from the gym one evening, and he invited me home, which wasn't something exceptional: We often spent time together, at my place or his. He prepared recovery drinks of milk and some protein powder in the kitchen. As a student, he couldn't afford any bigger flat, so his bedroom served as all-purpose room. He passed me a large plastic cup of protein drink, and smiled mischievously. He stood with his back against a bookshelf, which testified of his intellectual pursuits: A Latin grammar, A Greek dictionary, small and expensive green and red books from a publisher called Loeb, student manuals on ancient history and archaeology (and three handbooks about bodybuilding and nutrition, that looked displaced). It wasn't his intellectual traits, that were predominant at the moment: We were both pumped after the gym session, and Brad had taken his t-shirt off. He put his own protein drink down beside his computer and his plaster replica of a statuette of Apollo. "Why don't you give me advice about posing? I hope to compete on amateur level in six months, and I have to begin practicing." I felt uncomfortable, but I felt honoured, too. And strangely excited. "Uhmm. If you say so." I took a mouthful of my protein drink. And Brad began to pose. A lat spread. A side chest. A double biceps. He wasn't a heavyweight, but for an amateur he looked impressively well, despite being out of season. For a short second, my gaze flickered between his Apollo statuette and himself, and noticed the similarities. The ancient Greeks and Romans would have admired someone like Brad. "Come here, and try to bend my arm!" He stood there in his black, shiny Adidas tracksuit trousers and grey football socks. His skin tanned and smooth, but tattooed in a tribal pattern on his shoulder. An icon of small-city masculinity. And he was my friend. A cocky smile, and the mischievous glint in his eyes again. Hesitantly, I put my hand on his biceps. Warm. Hard. Pumped. I tried to pull his arm downwards, but he wouldn't yield. I put my other hand on his biceps. It was like trying to move a rock. I let my feet leave the floor, and let my entire weight rest against his upper arm. I don't know how long time I hang there, until Brad gave up. "OK. You win", he said, and sat down on his bed unusually quickly, with his cheeks warm and rose-coloured by the effort (or by something else?), his elbows resting on his thighs. I sat down beside him, close to him. I could feel his body heat, and I could feel the scent of his sweat, his soap and his anti-perspirant. We sat silent. I felt slightly embarrassed, but mainly comforted by the presence of my big friend. I wished I was like Brad. Nothing else happened that time. The second event, that made me think, happened when we watched films together several years later. Brad had competed in two amateur competitions, and placed third and second. He was bigger now, than when the first event happened. We had seen both films before, but agreed to see them again. Brad had a big TV screen in his room, and we used his bed as a sofa. We watched one of the old Hulk films, and Brad exclaimed: "Look at those muscles! I wish I looked like that!" "You don't sound like the typical archaeology student, Brad. Honestly, isn't that too much?" "There is no 'too much', Joe. Believe it or not, Joe, but when I began working out, I wasn't much bigger than you were, when you began. Now I have reached this level", he put his hands on his polo shirt, "but this is just the beginning. I want more. I want to become extreme." I swallowed. My reason told me Brad's wishes were absurd, but other parts of my mind stirred and crawled. Wiggled. Twisted. Brad. My friend, Brad. Bigger. More muscular. And myself... Becoming like Brad. Big. Powerful Protective. Warm. We sat close to each other. Shoulder by shoulder. I could feel his hard, warm shoulder to mine. Having finished the old Hulk film, we watched Captain America. The first one. The one in which he transforms from small and scrawny into a superhero. Generally, we used to comment scenes while watching them, but when we reached the scene, when Steve Rogers transform into a super-soldier, both Brad and I fell uncharacteristically silent. Brad grabbed the remote, and played the scene, when the radiation chamber opens and reveal the new improved Steve, a second time, and a third, and then stopped the film, leaving it on a still revealing Chris Evan's sweaty and shiny pecs and abs. Brad changed his posture from upright to reclining. A few seconds later, he pulled me down, so that I laid beside him. Close. Warm. Hard buddy. In order to defuse any tension - or so I guess - he tickled me on my belly, and I couldn't stop myself from laughing. Then we fell silent again. "When I got my first results at the gym, lots of chicks liked it, Joe. But, do you know, less and less women appreciate that you work out, when you are moving close to serious levels of exercise. Isn't that strange?", he began in his pleasant deep voice. "I don't know. It is rather extreme." I fell silent. Brad waited. I continued. "I have to admit, that you are very impressive, bro. And I have to admit, that it would be cool to achieve, what you have achieved." Warmth. Close. Hard buddy. "I love to grow you, buddy. That you are so typically ectomorph makes it harder." "Ectomorph? Is that what it is called? Impossible case, is what I would call it." "That's a bad attitude. You are not like you were when we started. This is testimony of that." His big hand had sneaked under my shirt, and now teasingly covered my abs. Initially, I froze in horror, but when nothing else happened, I relaxed and felt his warm hand on my belly. There wasn't something gay with this? Just two friends having a laugh. And discussing exercise. I think. And it isn't sex, if it isn't penetration, is it? "My little buddy is growing. Slowly, my little buddy is growing into a lean and hard little engineer. And I am the one growing you. I feel proud to grow you, bro." He was right. Even if my results were very modest, I hadn't reached this far, without his advice and encouragement. Warm presence beside me. Hard. I felt very good. I had been lost in thoughts, and hadn't noticed that I had wood. "There is something I wan't to discuss with you. It is rather embarrassing." "Nothing embarrass me, and you know it.", Brad answered. "Rather often, I become hard after a workout." I blushed. We were both looking at the ceiling, so I hoped, that Brad wouldn't notice. Brad laughed his friendly laughter. "Rather often? Rather often? You must be kidding, Joe. It happens always, to me. Without exception. It is a perfectly normal reaction, from a biological point of view. And then I haven't begun to mention the mental aspects. I feel so fucking pumped and relaxed and confident after each workout, so my state of mind itself would be enough to drive me horny. Have you been worried over this all the time, and haven't told me? Don't we talk about everything?" He hesitated. "Is there something else, you haven't told me?" The question hang in the air. Brad tickled my belly again, and my abs contracted. The tension evaporated. "Oh, there is a six-pack which wasn't there five years ago. And my little hard package of muscle believe that he gets no results?" Brad moved his hand away from me, and laid there silent. "Joe?" "Yes?" "Do you think you could do something? But it is perhaps too strange for you?" "How would I know, if you don't tell me what it is?" Brad was silent, and then he spoke. "Would you feel weird, if I asked you to play, that I am Captain America just coming out of that machine?" He nodded at the TV screen. I laughed nervously. Then i felt giddy. Childish? Or mature in a forbidden way? My blood pressure suddenly made my temples sound like drums. I felt cold. And warm. And aroused. I cleared my throat. "Would you like me to do that?" Brad's voice sounded slightly embarrassed and slightly husky. "Only if it doesn't make you feel silly." I swallowed. "No. It's OK. It just come so unexpectedly." I sat up in the bed. Brad was still reclined, but he was beginning to remove his polo shirt. "Let me help you." I sat on his knees, and helped him remove his shirt. His upper anatomy was revealed to me. "I am inspecting the test subject. Ehrr. The second test subject after Steve Rogers... A certain... Private Brad... who volunteered to the super-soldier programme... and... Ehrrr." I wasn't good at this, but Brad smiled, his eyes shone, and I couldn't avoid noticing, that the crotch of his jeans was filled with a very noticeable bulge, which pulsated. I tried to ignore it, and I hoped, that Brad didn't notice what was happening behind my own fly. Wiggled. Twisted. "I am inspecting the test subject's traps", touching them, "which has grown bigger and harder. And inspecting the noticeable bigger and harder shoulders." I moved my hands to his shoulders, and clenched. "The triceps and the biceps are now indestructible". Brad let out a restrained moan. I moved my hands from his upper arms to his pecs. "But the most significant growth has occurred in his pecs. My God! They are still growing under my hands! Growing into superhuman size! So hard. So..." I swallowed. Brad was moving under me, and seemed to like it. I massaged his pecs more, but wasn't good at making up a story. Where does these guys in Hollywood get all their dialogue from? "Ehrr. So the subject is still growing and transforming. Oh God! He is turning into a monster! A hero-monster full of hard, masculine muscle. Bigger than anything I have seen. Bigger than anything I could imagine. Oh! He is overwhelming us..." Brad grabbed my back and pressed me against his chest. I couldn't avoid it: My crotch now rested against his, and he was going to notice how hard I was. As was he. My mouth was close to his cheek, and I could feel his stubble against my lips. My hands clenched around his big shoulders. Then, Brad's jeans got a life of their own, and his pulsating bulge massaged my own bulge into ecstacy. We came together. Close to my best friend. Warm. Hard. Protective. Looking at that event retroactively, it was both foreboding and ironical, but at the time, we didn't know what to make out of it. We had both had sex with girls in the past, hadn't we? And we had both kept our trousers on, hadn't we? And since only penetration is sex, we didn't have sex, did we? We were perfectly straight, weren't we? A short time later The Leader pronounced an edict, that a new Sequrity Squad was going to assist both the Police force, the Army and the Home Guard, and that recruitment would be administrated by conscription. We were both very surprised and worried, when Brad received a Draft. To be continued. The story continues here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/10523-the-security-squad-part-2/

Here's part 02... I hope I did this justice. A tiny bit of changes in this chapter. If you read the transcript, I am pretty sure you all know what's coming next! If not, enjoy this chapter for the first time and enjoy this amazing ride! Part 02 First Meal Matt woke up the next morning a bit later then his usual time. The sheets of the bed, twisted around his massive body. With a loud yawn, he sits up; he feels strange, not like his typical energetic self. As he rubs over his eyes with his hand, his large arms brush against his lats and massive pecs, pushing them together. As he pulls the twisted sheets off of his body, grunting in annoyance at how they are wrapped tightly around his thick tree trunk legs, Matt rolls out of bed and staggers over to his closet and dresser, completely naked. His massive cock swinging back and forth with every movement, semi-erect, and quite a bit harder then he’s normally used to. The one thing however that is truly discomforting for him though is his balls. They ache. Like someone hit him hard right between them the other day. It’s a lingering pain that he quickly remembered to the night before, wondering if what happened with Andrew truly did happen. Matt digs through his underwear drawer grabbing a fresh jockstrap and puts his legs through the leg openings and slides it up towards his hips, adjusting the massive bulge in its pouch. Andrew has been downstairs it seems for a good while though. The smell of bacon and sausage being fried in a pan travels up to their bedroom on the second floor. Matt stifles a moan as it’s his favorite type of meats to eat. Its candy to his senses. While Matt finishes, Andrew preps everything for them to have a nice hearty breakfast, it’s a typical morning for the boys as Andrew always makes sure his bigger twin has the right breakfast before hitting up his gym. Matt finds a pair of gym shorts and puts them on as well, enjoying the way they hug his tight, beefy glutes. Not bothering with a shirt, Matt decided just to head downstairs, swinging his huge arms back and forth, stretching them out before his breakfast of champions his bro is preparing him for his typical morning. His nose twitching as he enters the kitchen, doing a couple more stretches. “Cooking already, bro? I like it!” Sniffing the air again, Matt says amiably. He walks over to the coffee pot and pours himself a large cup of Dark Roast brew, adding a bit of cream into it. Next he heads over to his supplement drawer and starts to get out his various vitamins and boosters, gulping them down with his fresh cup of coffee, before sitting down at the table. Andrew grabs a large plate from the cabinet, plating a large amount of Eggs and Bacon, with a side of potatoes. Matt doesn’t like a lot of carbs so he makes sure to give him less potatoes and more proteins to help his bro grow even larger with his workouts. He brings the plate over to Matt before grabbing himself a cup and pouring some juice in it for himself, sitting down opposite of Matt. “I’m sorry about your new supplements from last night…” Andrew looks down at his food, feeling a bit bad at what had happened. “They probably cost you a fortune from what you told me they were.” Matt listened to his twin, but he still couldn’t let what happened to him cause him not to keep his body maintained and get even bigger. He quickly ate his food, making sure not to leave a single scrap behind on his plate. “Well, I’m bummed that they got broken like that, but I didn’t pay for them, so I guess I’m not out much of anything. Although it would have been nice to try them out this morning.” Matt tries to think of last night, but his mind is a bit fuzzy. All he remembers is something gray, skittering around his bedroom, as it traveled up his leg, latching on to his huge cock, before plunging right into his piss slit and filling his balls?! No, that can’t be right. He thought to himself, before another memory starts to plague his mind. Did I fucking blow my brother too?! Matt shook his head. Thinking it must have been a weird dream. It can’t have happened. Whatever he saw last night, the gray and black tentacle things, they couldn’t be real. It had to be a nightmare for sure. Matt looks down at his empty plate, trying to make everything make sense in his head. “I’m bummed, but I’ll just see if my guy can get me some more. You never know, maybe he has another batch.” Andrew reaches his hand across the table, placing it over Matt’s larger paw. Matt looks up at him, confused, but at the same time he feels comforted. “Can we do that stuff again like last night, bro?” Andrew smiles up at his twin, a deep intensity in his eyes. “I miss those moments. It was like we were kids again. I felt like I had my old bro back…” Matt blushes and looks away, “Well, um, I’m not sure. I uh… I kinda thought that was a weird dream, you know?” Matt clutches Andrew’s smaller hand in his larger one, holding it gently. “I, uh, well I don’ quite know…” he stammers, returning his gaze back to his twin, seeing the look of hope and affection that Andrew has for him. Matt’s cock was throbbing from this moment; raging hard in his jockstrap, all ten inches. He chuckles, giving Andrew’s had an affectionate squeeze. “Well, if my cock is any indication, then I’ll probably be saying yes. Fuck I’m horny!” Matt releases Andrew’s hand and stands up, taking his empty plate to the sink. His shorts are tented to the extreme, making his predicament obvious to anyone who would see him at that moment. “Man, I’m going to have to wear different underwear today,” He looks down to the protruding bulge. “I’ve got class, and then gym at 10. But I’ll be here tonight, Andrew. And we will see how things are going then.” Andrew clears his plate, bringing it to the sink. As he puts it into the sink, the fork laying on it falls freely to the floor, clattering between both him and Matt’s feet. They both bend down at the same time to pick it up, but due to Andrew’s smaller height, he reaches the fork first and as he comes back up, his head hits hard into Matt’s chin. Andrew clutching his head in pain as he falls back onto his knees. “Fuck, Matt. You got a thick skull!” He sits on the floor rubbing the pain, with his back against the kitchen sink, his legs apart. Matt rubs his own jaw from the impact several times before realizing he is fine. He bends over and picks Andrew up off the floor and helps his brother to a chair. “Easy there, Andrew. Are you feeling okay?” He holds him steady; his large, meaty hand on one of Andrew’s shoulders. As Matt watches his brother, concerned, the fork in Andrew’s hand clatters back onto the floor again. “Damn Andrew, you’re worrying me…” Matt lets go of Andrew as he bends down and looks for the fork. He has to bend down farther and look under the chair and table and still can’t see where the fork has gone to. Matt decides to crawl under the table to see if he can find it, his massive body making it look a bit funny as he tries to maneuver himself under it. He finally sees it, crawling forward, reaching out and clutching it in his large hand. As Matt backs his way out from under the table, he notices the lower half of Andrew’s body, seated in the chair. Andrew’s legs spread wide. As Matt’s gaze goes up to hand Andrew the fork, his eyes catch a glimpse of something in his twin’s shorts. He pauses, looking up the pant leg, and sees Andrew’s cockhead, pushing out just a little; a little drop of pre cum is bubbling off the tip, and Matt’s horniness begins to return, but this time at an alarming, skyrocketing rate. Andrew watches his bro, reaches down, and scratches at his bulge through his shorts. The mesh of the shorts rubbing against the droplet of pre causing it to create a string of his emission from his piss slit to the bottom portion of his short opening. “You okay, Matt? You’ve been down there for a while.” Andrew asks worried about what his brother was possibly doing under the table, with his other hand still rubbing the emerging bump on his forehead from their little accident. Andrew scoots his chair out a bit from the table, the light from the ceiling fan illuminating his crotch a bit more from where it was originally pushed under the table. “Yeah, I’m good,” Matt responded, his voice distant and unfocused. As if he were in a trance, he inches forward, moving between Andrew’s legs. Matt rubs his scruffy jawline against Andrew’s inner thigh. His head emerging from under the table as it moves towards his brother’s crotch. Andrew can feel the warm breath of Matt touch the tip of his cock as his brother moves more towards it. The fork clatters again to the floor, forgotten, as Matt brings is strong hands up and rubs them up along Andrew’s thighs, his hands going from his twins knees to his hips. Matt reaches under Andrew’s shorts and pushes back the hem until Andrew’s leaking cockhead comes into plain view. Matt moves his head forward, obscuring Andrew the view of his own tool. All Andrew can feel is Matt’s lips press against his cockhead, kissing it gently. He lets out a soft moan, not knowing what else to do, as he slowly moves his smaller hands to the back of Matt’s head, rubbing his fingers through his brother’s hair. Matt stops for a second, looking up towards Andrew; a snail trail of Andrew’s precum connecting from Andrew’s cock to Matts lips as he looks up at Andrew for some sort of approval. The string of precum disconnecting from Andrew’s cock as it swings across Matt’s bearded face and neck; and in an instance, there is not a single trace of it. Andrew looks on a bit confused himself now. Cum doesn’t just disappear. But that isn’t the only concern; the hair on Matt’s face isn’t as thick as it was before. Andrew places his hand under Matt’s chin and leans down. Matt comes up and meets him as their lips touch and they begin a long kiss. Matt rises up more, his back pushing the table away from them as he reaches around his brother, his thick arms wrapping around Andrew’s body. He lifts Andrew off of his chair and stands up straight, pushing Andrew up against the wall behind him. Matt returns a much stronger kiss; it’s deep, passionate, hungry, as he rams his tongue into Andrew’s mouth, sucking his lower lip between his teeth. Matt pulls away, breathing deeply, looking at Andrew with unfocused eyes. His vision begins to sharpen and return as he looks on at Andrew in his arms. “Why… do I want this so bad?” Andrew’s back still firmly pressed against the wall, his cock harder than ever. “I want this too, Matt. It’s not just you… Want me, like I want you bro…” Andrew pushes his face back towards Matt, placing his lips back on his brother, rubbing his back of his brother’s head as he is held off the ground, his arms around Matt’s thick neck, resting on his mountainous traps. Andrew pulls back, looking Matt right in the eyes. “Please Matt! Want me, like when we were teens.” Andrew feels Matt’s cock pulse under him uncontrollably in his jockstrap. It wants to break free. Andrew pushes his own shorts down around his thighs as his 4 inch cock comes free and pulses. He reaches a hand down to it, giving it a hard stroke, getting some of his precum on his finger and brings it up to his lips to taste his own seed. Matt watches as his brother tastes himself, making him even hornier, wanting his brother even more. There’s a fire in Matt’s eyes, one Andrew has only seen when Matt works hard and gets a serious pump going. One that he only gets while he’s on the field or rolling around a wrestling mat. When Matt gets that look in his eyes, nothing will stop him from getting what he wants, and he makes sure to get the greatest reward possible. “Fuck!” Andrew moans as he too is getting excited from his brother’s determination manifesting. It’s the way he has been wanting to be looked at for a long time again by his giant sized twin. Matt’s arrogant, jock alpha beast mode was about to be released. Matt pulls Andrew up against him, bringing his brother’s face up against his huge chest. He flexes the massive shelf slowly against his twin, making sure Andrew can feel the thick muscle roll as it tenses. Then he gently guides his brother’s head down his abs, down to his massive cock. Matt grabs the root of the thick beast, guiding it up. The big helmet head brushing against Andrew’s lips. Andrew can smell the musk washing off the cock, the bit of pre gushing out of his piss slit, slick against Andrew’s lips. “So boned, bro… Like, fuck, Andrew. I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but I fucking want you bad.” Matt’s head is spinning, more precum emerging from his slit. Part of him wants to reach down and force his brother’s mouth over his cock, fucking his twin’s face until he cums. But another part, an unfamiliar part of him, wants Andrew to do the exact same thing to him. Matt reaches forward, his large fingers running through Andrew’s hair. Andrew looks up into his brothers eyes, licking his lips. He gets down on his knees, Matt’s hand never leaving the back of his head as he continues to massage Andrew’s scalp. Andrew reaches his arm up and wraps his hand around the monstrous shaft. It’s the first time he has seen it this big and this close in so long. Andrew closes his eyes and opens his mouth as he moves his head closer to the giant python sticking right out of his brother’s groin. He pushes his tongue out, it’s the first thing that makes contact with Matt’s cock as he tastes the saltiness of his twin’s precum coming off of the tip. Pushing even more forward, trusting his larger brother with his hand still on his head, the head begins to enter his mouth, followed by the thick shaft, making Andrew open his mouth wider. As the head hits the back of Andrew’s throat, he closes his lips around the shaft and begins use his tongue and inner cheek and sucking skills to pleasure his much larger brother as best as possible. Moving his head back up to the head before going right back down the length, getting into a steady rhythm. Matt moans out in pleasure. The hands on the back of Andrew’s head pulls him all the way as far down his shaft as possible. He can feel his cock hit the back of Andrew’s throat again as he holds him there. Andrew gags once… twice… three times, as he feels his brother’s throat finally open for him as his cock begins to push even deeper. “Oh Fuck!” six inches going down his twin’s throat, then 8 as more and more of his man cock fills his brother’s mouth and esophagus. A Matt begins to start bucking his hips, going back and forth, pumping his huge dick in Andrew’s mouth. Andrew’s lips are stretched around it, and his brother’s teeth grate against the skin of his rod. Matt’s so turned on it just makes him even hornier. Each time Andrew gags, his throat squeezing around his large cockhead, little precum spurts push out of his cock. “Fuck yeah, Andrew! Mmmm… Ffffffuck!... Take that big man cock bro…” his huge chest heaving as he breathes heavily, driving his dick more and more into his brother’s mouth, a trickle of sweat running off of his brow. Matt begins to let out a groan of pleasure as he finally begins to release a load down Andrew’s throat. His shaft going nuts inside his twin’s mouth, spasming violently as he continues to send cum rocketing down his brother’s throat. As his orgasm begins to subside, he pants heavily, feeling Andrew suck the cum right out of his dick. “Oh fuck, that was good bro…” Andrew swallowed it all and his own balls begin to churn. His cock trembles, a pleasant warmth spreads throughout his body, traveling through his bones before settling in his muscles. Andrew feels something going on within him, but isn’t sure what. Little known to him, his height has increased slightly; from 5’5 to now 5’6”. His muscles tense all over his body and quiver for a moment under his skin as ten pounds of muscle was added to his body. Andrew feels strange, but good. Very good. A little bit stronger. A bit more confidence. A bit more capable. Andrew wipes his mouth as he stands up to his full height. His cock has expanded slightly as well, but not by much, as his balls churn from this little scenario they just experienced. Andrew moans, his own shorts still dropped and his cock hanging free and hard. Looking right up at Matt, Andrew’s balls pull up in their sack. His balls begin to fire, large, fast shots. The first one hits Matt right across his abs… the second, his bobbing cock… the third and fourth go right across Matt’s thick thighs and large feet. Andrew pulls away, ducking under Matt’s large arm as his last shot sprays a trail right across the kitchen floor. Andrew turns around for a split second, looking back at Matt. Matt looks a bit less proud, not standing as straight as he usually does. His brother’s traps a bit sunken down. What Andrew thinks is Matt is a bit embarrassed of what just happened, but what really is happening is something completely different. Matt’s body is slowly losing mass as he drops an inch in height within seconds, losing his imposing 6’5” stature that he was so proud to have as he crumbles away to 6’4”. Matt’s massive cock, still hard, but not the hardness that it typically is even after he blows a massive load. Matt doesn’t have his after orgasm hard on anymore. Matt staggers backwards, confused at why he suddenly feels so light-headed. But the moment passes and he slowly recovers. “Fuck Andrew, that was an incredible blow job… you’ve totally blown my mind, bro!” Matt chuckles and reaches down to wipe off the cum that was shot all over him by his brother. But just like before, there was nothing to clean up. Matt shakes his head, pulling up his jock and stuffing his semi-hard cock back into it. His shorts follow a moment later as he looks over at Andrew, noticing that his twin looks a little less thin than he used to and a bit more toned. Matt turns, heading back up the stairs to their bedroom for his books and the rest of his clothes. As Matt leaves, Andrew too notices the changes. His shirt doesn’t quite feel so loose on his shoulders; it doesn’t hang as loose off his thin torso. It’s an odd thought, and one that doesn’t really make much sense yet; Shirt’s don’t just shrink while a person wears them, after all. To Be Continued… Coming Soon: Part 03 – Gym Time

Hello All, It has been far too long but here is part 3 of The Forge. This one is a little shorter than usual. I had originally intended this part to have whole other additional section but it had been so long since I had posted for this story that I decided to stop it at a good breaking point write the other section later as a separate part. If you want to catch up or just want a reminder since I took my lazy ass forever to write it you can click here for Part 1 and Part 2. As always comment and let me know what you think. The Forge Part 3 Shawn carried me as he began to walk us out of the woods. I rested my head on his massive chest as I recovered from the sexual thrill ride. Even my now improved stamina couldn’t completely keep up with his seemingly boundless power and energy. I simply nuzzled him and let my hands explore his godlike muscle as far as they could reach. Ten minutes on though my new found reserves of libido began to recharge and I began to kiss and lick my fire haired behemoth’s corded mass, eventually sliding my again hardening prick against his upper abs. “You catch up quickly even for someone who is Molded.” Shawn said. “Would you like to play around some more? I can’t wait to fuck that tight little ass of yours.” I climbed up his body further while working my tongue and mouth up his neck and traps. “It’s tempting but I am very curious about everyone else. How much longer until we get to them?” “It takes a while to get to the other side of The Forge where they’re at.” I had worked my way up so that we were face to face again. It was then that I saw a big grin spread across his face. “But, I think I know a way to give us both what we want. Get ready to hold on tight.” Shawn grabbed me by the waist and positioned me until the throbbing head of his thick veiny member was pushing at my backdoor. “Are you ready for this?” Ready? Ever since he teased my asshole with that tongue bath I could feel it throbbing, waiting for more. “Yes.” I said with a breathless anticipation I could barely control. “Good. When I am all the way inside wrap your arms and legs around me as hard as you can.” Then he leaned down and kissed me deeply. When he broke the kiss he locked his eyes with me and said “Going down.” With that he pressed firmly but slowly as his thick mushroom head began to part my new tight cheeks and spread my hole apart. Slowly he lowered me down on to his shaft as an unknown pleasure began radiating through me. All the things we had done before had excited me in ways I could never have imagined, but it all paled in comparison to what I felt now. His touch before had been like a beautiful song touching me in ways I had never felt before. But this? This was a grand symphony hitting me at once with a thousand notes of sensation, reaching a crescendo once he buried himself to the hilt. My eyes rolled back as I released my most powerful volley of cum yet, releasing a flood of cum between us. When the climax subsided Shawn stroked the back of my head and said “Wrap your arms and legs around me and don’t let go.” I did as he said and when I had squeezed on tight he began to go forward. He went slowly at first but steadily picked up steam, starting at a slow jaunt, then a regular walk, then light jog, a moderate sprint, and on and on. All the while the increasing motion was causing me to bob up and down on his shaft sending jolts of sexual bliss throughout me, his muscles twisting and writhing against me with their unbelievable power. Soon, the scenery around us began to just fly by, his speed approaching that of a car on the highway, maybe even faster. I was hard for me to say how much time passed. Caught up as I was in the ebb and flow of my own orgasm, the time seemed like a blur to me. I emptied several more loads, which served to lube the friction between our bodies, adding even more waves of pleasure as my cock ground against his cum slick abs. Shawn eventually slowed down gradually until we came back to a slow trot eventually stopping in front of a single story stone building with a chimney billowing smoke. Shawn lifted me off of his cock with an audible pop as his head broke the seal around my ass ring. I was so wrapped up in my own orgasms that I didn’t notice that Shawn had cummed another monster load in me, but it was now pouring out of my overloaded ass with his shaft no longer plugging me. Still in a slight stupor he kissed me gently on the forehead and said “Hey, are you with me?” “Sorry, that was…it was, just… wow!” I said while taking deep breaths. Despite the experience I could still feel myself recovering quickly. Which was all for the good since I wanted to be ready to meet the other guys. “Come on.” Shawn said, “Let’s go introduce you.” He led me around to the back of the building where there were piles of all sorts of old scrap metal stretching out for nearly a quarter of a mile. Next to a giant 12' pile of rebar stood a golden skinned giant with his back toward me, which was done in an ornate tattoo. As we got closer the detail became clearer, revealing it to be a writhing orgy of muscular men. Its design seem to be perfectly formed to work with every ripple and bulge of his road map back, make every twitch and flex of his muscle cause to the scene to animate and come alive on his back. Below his back was a round, hard shelf of an ass that also came to life as he moved. I wanted to bury my face in those perfect orbs. He reached out grabbed bundle of about a dozen rebars in his large thick hands, carrying it as a normal man would a bundle of twigs. The scene on his back became even more frantic as he even out the rebar so they fit with all their ends even then began to twist them so the formed a metal rope twisting in perfect, even form until formed a perfect braid. He turned around revealing his East Asian ancestry with a square jawline and full lips. On top of his head was messy mane of hair dyed bright red. He was even more prodigiously hung than Shawn with his thick, veiny, and fully erect member coming almost to the top of his abs. The bronze god walked over to what looked like giant pair of feet and muscular calves about as tall as himself made out of the same rebar, and since he looked a couple of inches taller than Shawn that was at least 7’. He added his latest braid to the statue molding it in so that it looked like muscle fibers. It was going to be huge when it was done. When we got about ten feet away Shawn yelled out, “Hey Tony, the new guy is here!” Tony turned around and smiled. His grin was filled with such, joy. He was a huge giant hulking monster of a man but if I had to sum my first impressions up in one word it would…playful. He walked over to me and I nervously stuck out my hand. He let out a boisterous laugh, “ Aha ha ha ha ha! I think we can do better than that!” He leaned down and took the back of my head in his massive paw planted his lips on mine. I instantly opened my mouth so he could invade me with his tongue. It was different from Shawn. Where he filled me with a rugged, animalistic passion, Tony’s was filled with mirth. Like the touch and moment we were sharing was causing him such happiness that it couldn’t help but spill over into me. When we separated he looked into my face and while continuing to smile the warm grin said “The name’s Tony, Tony Ng. Very nice to meet you Paul.” “The feeling is mutual.” I said smiling right back at him Shawn piped in, “Tony here is our resident artist.” “I gathered from the statue. Did you design that back tattoo as well? “You bet. Do you want a closer look?” Tony said. He turned around to give me the close up view. The detail was even more breathtaking standing so near to it. So many huge and sculpted men, sucking, fucking, grinding, and rubbing against each other. As his back rippled with each breath he took the guys in the tattoo seemed to come to life with each motion. I thought it was an illusion before but they were truly were moving like it was some kind of live orgy. Hands stroked, tongues licked, mouths sucked, and shafts penetrated. I brushed my hand across his back and where I touched the action intensified. Feeling my touch Tony went into a lat spread causing all the men in the scene to go into a frenzy. Watching the scene caused my improved libido to surge again. Just as I thought I was going to blow again Tony dropped out of his lat spread and turn back around to face me. “How did you make that?” Tony laughed, “I didn’t. I just designed it. HE is the one who actually did it and made it, well, live action.” “Who is this guy? Wait, don’t tell me. I’ll find out when he gets here.” Tony grinned at me “Sorry man. He likes to keep the mystery.” He then began eyeing me up and down. “Wow, you are quite the mess.” I looked down at myself and realized that I was still covered in the remnants of my time with Shawn. My spunk covering the front of my torso, and his dripping down my legs from the leakage from my ass. “Yeah, I should find someplace to clean up.” Tony broke out into a naughty smile and said, “No need. Allow me.” With that he put his big beefy hands underneath my arms and lifted me up effortlessly until my stomach was right in front his face. He opened his mouth, extended his tongue and pulled me in until the tip plunged into my navel. He lapped up all the cum that had pooled there and slowly, excruciatingly worked his way up the left side of me working into every nook and crevice of my new washboard abs. The artist in him had truly come out because every flick, swirl and lick of his tongue was like the stroke of a paintbrush. Each one perfectly placed and executed to create a beautiful work of pleasure. He continued his way up spending time teasing my sensitive nipples then creeping his way up my neck until we came face to face and then pulled me in for a deep kiss, parting my mouth and sharing the copious load he had gathered. I could feel another load on its way, but Tony took one of his hands off to squeeze me at the base of my cock and balls to prevent it. Breaking the kiss he licked and nibbled his way up to my ear and said “I don’t want you making another mess. Wait until I am done.” He lifted me back up and repeated with the other side. It was torture holding in my orgasm but I used that improved stamina Shawn told me about and kept myself just from the brink. When he finished Tony flipped me around so my back was toward him. Thrusting me up as far as he could lift me he worked on the cum that had dripped down the back of my legs, taking the long, slow way up like he did before making sure to get into every ripple of my newly jacked legs. When finished my legs he dove into my ass giving me a rim job that all the ones Shawn had given to me combined to shame. He swirled every drop up he could, twisting his tongue against and inside of my hole in ways that shouldn’t have been possible. At long last I screamed, “Oh god! I can’t take it much longer! I’m going to CUM!!” Tony flipped me again so that I was cradled into his massive arms and in one swift motion lifted me up and inhaled my cock to the base. I immediately blasted my load deep into his mouth, shooting shot after endless shot which he suck down just as greedily as his did the jizz he had tongue bathed off of me. This was by easily my most powerful climax so far lasting for at least two minutes with pressure of my shots unyielding. When he was sure I had spurted my last spurt he released me from his mouth and brought me in for another long and deep kiss sharing the last of my fresh load as we swirled it around with each other. When pulled back he smiled that bright smile at me again and said “There. All clean now.” I was about lean back in for another kiss when a series of grunts and clanking metal caught my attention. “What is that?” I asked Tony. “Oh, that’s Isiah. Come on. You should definitely get to know him."

To all the fans of the Transcript... I will still finish it... But I know how much you guys have loved it so I am going to turn it into a series... And to all the new readers, I hope you enjoy this tale. Not sure how long I will take between releasing parts. But this story will be completed. I hope you enjoy this fresh take on an amazing RP I did as it will now be presented to you all as a complete series. Part I The Bonding Matt stumbled through the house, heading up his room that he had always shared with his twin brother Andrew. He has always been a huge bearish guy. 6’5”, 300 lbs of ripped college bound jock muscle with a very large 10 inch cock. He really got into lifting in High school when he grew like a weed, playing both football and joining the wrestling team. Once he got into college though was when things really started to change. He was able to join a great gym, non stop trips into the cafeteria line. Even some really great supplements that his coach and teammates gave him. From one day he was buying stuff at a local vitamin shop to now he was buying more exotic drugs just hoping to build himself even more freakier. That’s what lead Matt to this moment. His friend brought him a new drug, supplement, something extremely crazy that if supposedly it was taken it would completely change a person’s life forever. “There’s two vials here bro. There’s Vial A and Vial B. It’s super experimental shit, I don’t even understand how it fucking works,” Daniel told Matt in the locker room earlier that day. “How the hell did you get a hold of it then?” Matt was curious if it is so secret, why the hell did he not keep it for himself. “Well, my friend’s half-brother’s uncle managed to smuggle it out of a department of defense lab. Shit is fucking legit. You got to believe me.” So he took it and brought it back home with the last words his friend telling him ringing into his ears. The actual instructions. Go to the Gym. Uncork Vial A and drink it. Find some random big dude, make him drink Vial B. The instructions were strange but the idea of actually getting something from the Department of Defense was a huge turn on. Matt was already enormous, if this shit would work he’d be gigantic. Matt looked at the time, “Fuck 11:30… To late now.” He sighed to himself. Most of the really big guys were probably already gone from the gym. And the guy he’d really want to try Vial B, the only guy that rivaled him in size, always arrives at 10AM sharp. Matt sets the vials aside on his desk, stripping down for bed, and lying on top of the cool sheets, feeling the breeze of the AC wash over his hefty muscular body. Andrew, Matt’s twin, was already laying in his bed. Andrew however was completely the opposite of his twin. They definitely were not identical. As Matt was a large built bearish beast, Andrew was practically hairless. Both twins were 21 years of age, but Matt stopped growing roughly at the age of 14. He stood at 5’5” 140lbs with a just below average 4 inch cock. Since Andrew wasn’t as huge as his brother, he became more of the smart one of the two, cracking the books and getting high academic marks in High School and now college. Andrew watched his brother strip and lay across his bed. The musky odor of Matt wafting in his direction. “Geeze Matt. Why didn’t you shower at the gym?” He watched as Matt though put the two vials onto his desk. One had a moving black liquid object inside of it. The other a greyish looking mass. The Grey one appeared to almost look dead looking as well as much smaller in volume then the black mass that completely filled the first vial. “Are those new supplements? They seem to look a bit odd from your normal stuff. Like not safe.” “Yeah. New supplements. Don’t touch them Andrew, they are really experimental and I don’t know how strong this stuff is going to be.” Matt watched over them for a few seconds. They were originally stored in a cooler which he removed them out of before coming up stairs. He didn’t realize though that since he had removed them, whatever was actually inside of them were starting to awaken, move, and become more active. Andrew continued to watch Matt as he pushed his large legs into his bed. Matt began his usual nightly routine of self-worship. Every night before bed he’d feel himself up after his massive pump from the gym. Matt began rubbing his hands over his hairy 10 pack. Twisting at one of his nipples with his other hand as his cock began to get hard and stand up straight like a pole. Andrew didn’t really mind. One thing that they both did inherit strangely in the traits department was that they were both gay. When they were both younger, before Matt became the giant man that he was today, they both experimented with each other and learned what sexual stuff they could. But once Matt began to really grow, the sexual interest died down, but they were still very close brothers. Matt was more interested in guys his size, which Andrew completely understood. Matt took his time though with his self-worship. Slowly moving one of his calloused hands from years of working out in the gym down to his engorged cock. The bigger Matt got, the more he turned himself on. Andrew knew this as well as his jackoff sessions seemed to be getting longer and more intense every night. Matt never minded Andrew watching him either; having his brother watching him and knowing Andrew’s hard little dick under the sheets turned him on even more. “Ah Fuck!” Matt kicked his legs out. Shaking the bed as it began to pivot and shake other things around it. Not really caring, he just loved the feeling of his hand around his large cock as he stroked and felt himself up. The bed knocking into the desk. The vials starting to roll around precariously. The grey vial, marked with the letter B rolls and goes over the side of the desk. Falling, the tip hits the edge, cracking the vial. Matt is the first to notice. He hops off the bed and the grey liquid looking mass begins to crawl across the bed. Small arms sprout out of it as it slowly starts to move on its own. “Dude, what is that, Matt?!” Andrew freaks out at the sight of it as he watches from his own bed. Matt just stares at it, his hard 10 inch cock bobbing up and down, not sure on what to do. Looking down at the broken vial he notices the B label on it. “Oh Fuck!” Matt growls reaching out with his hands to try and pick up the grey mass. “I need to get it into something fast!” As he scoops it up it seems to calm down a bit and just sit obediently in his palm. “What the fuck is this?” Matt brings it closer to his face to inspect it. As he does the greyish blob begins to reach and slithers between his fingers and drops onto his thick pec shelf. It begins to roll down the massive pillowy masses as it freefall dives off of his overhang and latches onto his still hard, throbbing shaft. With a freaky speed, the mass begins to move, crawling up Matt’s shaft using its tendril like arms again till it reaches his bulbous mushroom tip. It then plunges right into his piss slit, slithering and crawling into him as it plunges all the way inside. “WHAT THE FUCK!?” Matt roars grabbing his cock, trying to squeeze the liquid gray thing out of it. “FUCK I GOT TO GET IT OUT OF ME!” Matt runs towards the bathroom more scared then anything. As Matt leaves the room, and even before while the gray mass was making its move, the other vial was also reacting. The black mass in the vial marked A began to wobble as the object inside of it began to become agitated. It rolls off the desk and hits the floor, the vial shattering into dozens of pieces a the black thing inside of it becomes larger and starts moving across the floor with much more jerky, striding movements. It appears to be looking for something, as it moves towards the space where the gray mass’s bottle broke. It uses its own tendrils to feel around, exploring the area, finding the cracked bottle empty. It begins to shake, almost as if it’s angry as it scans the room and notices Andrew on his bed. It begins to move. “MATT?!” Andrew got up from his bed as he notices the black thing heading right for him. Matt rushes back into the room but as the thing moves, it begins to grow larger and larger with every passing second. “Holy fuck that one got out too?!” The black mass stops, noticing Matt and changes its direction, charging right at him. It seems to want you even more. The thing now the size of a rat, latches onto Matt’s leg and begins to pull itself up his calf and thigh. It notices the remnants of the gray mass. As it reaches Matt’s cock, a large tendril comes out of the top of it, stretching out and appears to look into his piss slit. “What the fuck is it doing?!” Andrew watches as the thing begins to observe the inside of Matt’s cock. Matt just stares down in horror, “I… I don’t fuckin’ know!” He reaches down and tries to push it off, but it’s to strong and holds on to continue its observation. It moves its head like tentacle upwards towards Matt’s eyes as it begins to shake and squeeze harder, almost as if it has gotten even more pissed off. Matt freaks out and begins to tug and pull it off of him, until it finally releases and is sent flying into the air, landing right onto Andrew’s lap. The black mass hesitates for a second before skittering around the bed sheets, crawling under them. Within seconds it latches onto Andrew’s cock. Squeezing it tightly, getting it hard, it slides into his piss slit. Andrew grunts and moans, the feeling burning, yet pleasant at the same time as it slides into him, filling his dick to full hardness, and spreading its tendrils into his balls and reproductive system. His balls being filled pleasantly as a raw feeling of power and energy awakens inside of him. His cock harder then it has ever been in his life. Matt rushes over to his brother, worried. “Are you okay, Andrew? Where did it go?!” He pulls the sheet off the bed completely, holding it up, trying to see where the black mass might be hiding. He doesn’t even notice how hard his brother’s cock is as he sits there completely erect. “Fuck, it’s got to be around here somewhere…” Andrew reaches his hand over, placing it on top of one of Matt’s large paw like hands that rests on the mattress. Matt reacts for a second, looking down at his smaller twin. “Matt…why don’t you like doing the stuff we did as kids anymore? Look how hard you make me bro?” Andrew slowly moves Matt’s hand to his 4 inch cock. “Can’t we have a little fun bro? Like old times?” Matt stares back at his brother, flabbergasted at his remark. Why would Andrew ask him to jerk him off at a time like this? Some strange little alien like thing is in their room somewhere and all he can worry about right now is getting a hand job! That is until his hand literally wraps its fingers around his brothers cock all on its own. Matt’s own cock begins to throb as well, almost as if its excited they are doing this after so many years. Matt’s rough, calloused fingers begins to stroke up and down Andrew’s smaller shaft. It almost hurts from the roughness, but it also causes a strange pleasurable sensation. Matt pulls back a second, shaking his head clear. ‘Why did I? What am I doing?’ Matt wondered what’s gotten into him, they haven’t done anything like this in years, yet all Andrew had to do was ask and his own dick got so hard he couldn’t say no. Matt slowly steps away from the bed, his huge body taking up the center of the room. “Something weird is going on, Andrew.” He stares down at Andrew’s hard cock. His mouth begins salivating slightly at the sight of how ridiculously hard and rigid it is. Andrew grabs hold of his cock, giving it a few strokes. He lets out a tiny moan, he wants to cum so bad, but for some reason his body is telling him no. It’s literally holding the pressure deep down like an overflowing dam. Andrew scoots to the edge of the bed, his feet hanging over the edge of the bed. Matt steps forward, towards his brother again, gazing down at his cock. “Bro… We had so much fun. Don’t you want me?” Andrew sounded like it was a pleading moment, but his voice was firm. “It feels like you gave up on me years ago… I never gave up on you, bro. I wanted you to want me still…” “I-Bro… Andrew,” Matt sighed, looking down at his brother, his mind jumbled and mixed up with different emotions. “We just kind of drifted apart, you know? I got into the gym, made new buds. All that stuff. And you, well, you went a different way. I still love you, bro. But more the normal kind of love between brothers, not the kind of love of the stuff we did as kids when we messed around and experimented.” Matt looks down again at the hard cock of his twin, and it doesn’t look like it is going to go down anytime soon without a little help. Matt’s own cock shuddering in response. Whatever words are coming out of his mouth, his cock disapproves as the 10 inches of hardness says otherwise. “Come on Matt,” Andrew reaches out and touches the lower two abs of his brothers perfect 10 pack. “Just once more… you’re so hard too…” Matt’s head is such a cloudy confusion of emotion, he drops to a knee in front of Andrew, not realizing his brother was still very attractive and if Andrew did take up the gym like he did, he could have been a stud himself. Maybe he could help his brother in the gym, help him get a little size with some workouts they could do together. Matt’s hand reaches out, touching Andrew’s large swollen balls. His other hand reaches out to the incredibly hard shaft. “Fuck bro, tonight is so fucking weird,” Matt sounded a bit tired as he held his brothers cock in his hand. Matt pushes Andrew’s legs apart a bit, giving him a bit more access to his cock and balls. He begins to rub Andrew’s nuts slowly, gently, massaging them delicately as if they were precious fruits that could not be bruised. His thumb beginning to work its way up and down Andrew’s short shaft, pressing against it. “You should start coming to the gym with me, Andrew. You could use a bit more mass. You’d like it, I think.” He starts pumping Andrew’s dick with his large hand, using the other to fondle his twin’s balls and rub the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs. “Mmmm…” Matt moans, not even realizing it. Andrew reaches down to his brothers chin, lifting it up so their eyes can meet, The world going almost dark around them as the two can only focus on each other and the needs they now both have. “Want me…” Matt begins to move closer with those words. “Want me Matt… I want you… now want me…” “W… Want… y-you…” Matt stammers, seeing nothing but his brother’s face in front of him, feeling the hard dick in his hand as he continues to pump it. Matt blinks a few times from this cloudy haze, his hand slows its pump for a second, but then he notices Andrew’s face again, that new glimmer of emeralds in his brother’s green eyes. Matt starts to pump more vigorously, staring into his brother’s eyes. “I want you too, Andrew. His deep voice softer than usual. Andrew places his hand on the back of Matt’s head. Matt scoots closer across the floor, his eyes not leaving Andrew’s as Matt’s beard rubs against Andrew’s hard, tender cock. Andrew moans in pleasure as his brother licks his cock head. “I’ve wanted you for so long Matt…” His brother’s lips part as the head disappears into his warm mouth. Andrew uses one of his hands and massages his brother’s scalp, running his hands through Matt’s hair. His other hand on Matt’s mountainous traps, Matt goes down on Andrew’s cock, easily sucking all of its short length into his mouth, his nose pressed against the thin bush of his brother’s pubes. He begins to bob up and down on it, sucking eagerly, feeling Andrew’s little hands roam over his massive shoulders and traps. It turns Matt on even more as his brother fills him up that he starts using his tongue to pleasure his twin even more, pressing it firmly against the underside of the cock, letting his tongue slip out past his lips to press against Andrew’s balls. He can’t get over how rock hard Andrew’s dick is in his mouth, how incredibly unyielding it is as he sucks it down. Matt’s hands move up and grip Andrew’s thin little legs, holding him in place as he goes completely cock hungry for his brother. Andrew lets out one final moan. His small cock very sensitive and always has been from the lack of sex in in his life, unlike Matt who could jack off for an hour and still not release. Andrew pushes his hips off the bed, clenching his ass as a quick shot of cum travels out of his shaft and fires into the back of his brother’s throat. It was a single shot, but it was a mighty blast of cum that Matt couldn’t even spit out if he wanted to. Matt slowly pulls off, feeling a bit weak and woozy. His own cock begins to dribble out a tiny bit of cum that pools onto the floor as it began to go flaccid. Andrew hops off the bed. His foot stepping into the small cum puddle that Matt made as it is absorbed of the floor, directly into his skin. Matt scoots back, standing up. He takes two steps back before falling backwards onto his bed, completely exhausted from this strange experience, his flaccid cock tingling almost as if it were happy. Matt lies back, locking his arms behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling. ‘I just sucked off my brother. I haven’t done that in years.’ He begins to realize in the past, it was he who asked Andrew to sexually experiment with each other. Andrew has never asked for such a thing; this is completely new, completely different. But it felt so right. Andrew however was having a completely different experience. He was energized. He was alive. His orgasm lifted him up into new levels of pleasure and well-being. Neither of them noticed the cum puddle, and maybe if they did this might have ended up a completely different experience… To Be Continued… Coming Soon: Part II – First Meal

Thanks for all the comments, part four should be up by the weekend at the earliest. Read Part One HERE Read Part Two HERE Liquid Manhood Chapter Three “You are in very good health Mr Wington” the doctor finally said after poking and checking Barrett out for nearly an hour The doctor had seemed to take a great deal of pleasure in having Barrett strip, the older man’s hands running along the ridges of Barrett’s stomach and chest. Ridges that to most people would of been considered amazing to possess, but Barrett knew they weren’t as cut as they had been last week. “We’ll have to wait for the test results to come back in a few days, but from what I can tell you are a fit healthy man in his early 20s” the doctor added, flicking through a chart Barrett looked the doctor in his almost-orange-with-fake-tan face, annoyance plastered over Barrett’s handsome, but exhausted features. “Nearly two months back when you gave me my start of the year physical you said I was the most healthy person you’d ever saw” Barrett explained Even back then the doctor has spent more time than he needed to feel out Barrett’s body. He remembered the doctor fingering each solid brick of Barrett’s abs. Shaking off the memory of the obvious groping he heaved himself off the examination table, pulling at the bottom of his shirt to hide his still amazingly ripped abs. He’d been doing it more and more recently, he just had this thought in the back of his head that he was on display, like he was suddenly all self conscious. He even dug out an old long sleeved shirt from his closet to hide the thick toned pillars he called arms. The Barrett Wington who had always tried to not wear a shirt suddenly didn't want anyone to look at him. “Yes…well Mr Wington, that was last month” the doctor replied “You still are in very good shape, and very good health” There it was, ’very good’, not ‘amazing’ or ‘incredible’. Barrett was used to being perfect, ‘very good’ was a demotion. “Like I said when you arrived and when you called last week” the doctor continued “You might just have a bug, happens a lot in the first few months of the academic year” Barrett just nodded, the doctor was most likely right. A virus or infection was the only explanation for how Barrett felt, and how it seemed the entire football team were feeling the same. The doctor handed Barrett a small box of pills. “Takes these twice a day” the doctor said “Should give your immune system a little boost” Barrett just nodded again, finding it harder to find his voice, like he was getting nervous around people. As he left the doctor called back “Come back in a few days, we’ll have your results then, but remember to take it easy.” Barrett ignored him and slowly walked back to the frat house, scratching at his crotch the entire way. His jock strap was still itchy, even though he’d had it washed everyday since the itching started. He probably shouldn't wear it anymore, but he just couldn't get comfy in other underwear. It was like he’d gotten used to the itchy jock. Going to the local clinic felt like a waste of time, he’d felt like shit all week. It had messed with his workouts, even football practice had been terrible. Coach Peters nearly burst a vein bellowing at the failing athletes, and at Barrett especially. But Barrett had a horrible thought in the back of his mind, a virus could cause every symptom he had. It would cause the soreness, the exhaustion, the failure to be an active jock, but even with Barrett’s basic knowledge of biology he knew that nothing could make your feet a size smaller. He stared at his feet as he walked, both out of a want not to make eye contact with others and to also examine his feet. Barrett’s size 15 sneakers were feeling loose. Maybe it was time Barrett pulled out his old size 14s. Barrett’s next step ended up with his shoe being left behind. His eyes widened and Barrett quickly slipped his foot back into the too big sneaker. His pace quickened and he crossed his meaty arms over his still impressive chest defensively, on second thought he’d borrow a frat bro’s size 13s. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Chris and Melvin sat in the greasy pizzeria just outside of campus, huddled in a booth a back. The red leather seats fraying and the table still stained from the meals of the last few dozen diners. The dingy restaurant was Paulie’s Pizza, a place famous on campus as the go to place for a cheap meal, just as long as you liked pizza. Paulie, if that was his name was a Persian who clothes were always stained with pizza grease, he was as Italian as Super Mario. But Melvin had to admit he did make a good pizza. The nerdy student was chowing down on a large slice of pepperoni. Chris just stared over his expensive sunglasses at the other students in the restaurant, tightly held in his hand was a specimen cup of emerald green liquid, it was the elixir. A week had passed since they'd started collecting the liquid by draining the football team and Chris had finally decided to test the elixir out on a human. Melvin’s roommate had been very encouraged by the change to Burt the cactus, and even more encouraged by the change in the football team. Everyday Chris would describe all the small changes he’d seen in the athletes, he barely breathed as he hurried out the sighting of Barrett Wington’s shoe falling off his foot yesterday. Melvin was sure that Chris has jerked off that night thinking about Barrett’s feet shrinking. “See anyone yet” Melvin said between bites of pizza Chris nodded with a small smirk on his lips. “Stefan, that German student who's staying for a semester” Chris said in a quiet voice Melvin craned his head around to look for Stefan, he wasn't being subtle. Stefan was sitting at one of the tables in the middle of the restaurant, he was alone and clicking on his phone. He was fair skinned and very blonde. How Melvin imagined all Germans to look, he was lean, but probable had a very average body under his loose hoody. “Why him” Melvin asked returning his gaze to Chris Chris shook his head at Melvin, angry at Melvin’s obvious stares. He explained slowly and with fierce patronisation in his voice “Stefan is the best candidate because he’ll be returning to Germany in a month” Melvin nodded, his voice a little shaken by Chris’ mild anger “So his change won’t attract much attention” Chris nodded and then pulled himself out of the booth. Melvin watched Chris slip past the tables and other patrons, he passed the counter where plates of food waited for the waiters to delivery them to their tables. As he passed Chris poured the sample cup of elixir over one of the plates. Chris quickly vanished into restaurant restroom, always trying not to draw suspicion. Melvin again with his eyes obviously pointed at Stefan watched the short dark haired waiter with a name tag reading ‘Zack’ place a plate of elixir soaked pineapple pizza at Stefan’s table. Chris returned, maybe walking a little too fast. He slapped Melvin on the shoulder to get him to stop staring at Stefan. Melvin looked down at his half eaten pizza slice, picking at the stringy cheese. He heard Chris swear under his breath. “What” Melvin asked without looking “He fucking left” Chris muttered, slapping the table, no one looked towards the bang in the loud restaurant Melvin looked over to Stefan’s table, and it was empty. The pizza hadn't been touched. “Looks like he got a text, and he just left” Chris explained “The idiot paid for the pizza and everything” “So…another target” Melvin asked Chris nodded “Yea….I’ll do some more searching and find someone to dose” The two roommates got up and left, Chris muttering about how stupid people were and how they never did what they should do. Chris not even letting Melvin finish his pizza. Neither of them noticing Zack the waiter with the greasy olive toned skin return to clean the table, or how Zack even though he hated pineapple eagerly ate the abandoned elixir soaked pizza on his way back to the kitchen as Paulie didn't let his waiters have a lunch break. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Sean kept pulling at his shirt, but not because it was tight or because it was riding up his belly. He was pulling at it because it was loose, it hung around his neck and stomach. For the first time in years he was standing in front of and checking himself out in a mirror. The sink below it was flushed lime green, Sean had just washed his mouth out with Mountain Dew. He’d noticed the bottle was a darker green than normal, and the taste was a little different. More savory, almost salty, maybe he’d just picked up a soon to be out of date bottle. The strange tasting beverage wasn’t taking up much of Sean’s attention though, the sight in the mirror was more interesting. Even though he looked just like he always remembered, ginger, chubby and below average, there was something different. He wasn't as plump as before, his face and neck were thinner. There was even the hint of some bone structure peaking through. Nearly every piece of clothing he owned felt looser, except for his shoes. He looked leaner, healthier, like he’d been eating right. Which was wrong, the take out boxes in the trash can a few feet away saw to that. Sean had always thought he could do with losing some weight, and the mirror was proving him right. He just didn't have the mind and will to do it. But he liked the new him looking back from the mirror. Slimmer, eyes a little brighter and not a spot in sight on his pale skin. He even seemed to be holding himself taller. He turned from the mirror and swung his shoulder bag on, it was stuffed with books, but Sean could hardly feel the weight. With a smile on his face, and without his usual setup of headphones blasting music to repel any social interaction he headed out of his room for the campus library. Sean made sure his door was locked and walked straight into a raven haired boy. It was Chris from next-door, close behind him was a quiet blond nerdy boy. Sean didn't know his name, but had seen him enough times to know he was Chris’ roommate. Chris stepped back from Sean, quickly scanning who it was who’d bumped into him. Sean smiled politely at both boys, the blond with the crooked nose smiled back. Chris though stepped forward so he was inches away from Sean, staring him down. Sean surprised himself and almost laughed at the lithe boy’s attempt at intimidation. “What do you think you’re doing” Chris sneered down at Sean The taller boy stared down at him from behind expensive designer glasses. Sean had guessed that Chris was about 6ft tall when he first saw him moving in a few weeks back, but now Sean was maybe an inch shorter then him. This revelation caused a shot of excitement to drop right into Sean’s balls, he’d gotten taller. He’d never in his wildest dreams thought he’d reach 6ft, and he was now a hair’s length away. “I’m heading to the library” Sean explained knocking himself out of his thoughts, and surprising himself with how confident he sounded. Suddenly Chris’ slightly angular face softened “Oh, you mean the Haber Library” Sean nodded, knowing this was leading somewhere. Chris just smiled with perfectly straight pearly whites. The blond boy sighed in relief, Chris must get angry at the drop of a hat. “My last name is Haber you know” Chris stated grandly Sean just shook his head at the arrogant dark haired boy. Chris was attractive by anyone’s standards, but the speed at which he could switch from mild anger to lording something over someone else turned Sean off the high cheekboned student. Chris flicked his glossy black fringe “Yes, we’re an old family, been going to this college since its founding” Sean again just nodded, adding an ‘oh really’ for good measure. He could feel his cock hardening as he stared at Chris’ pretty face, his libibo had been sky high the last few days. He felt dirty getting hard over such an arrogant jerk. “We Habers were here long before the Wingtons” Chris continued rolling his eyes at the dorm room corridor “This shit hole is all they can throw together” Sean remembered the dorm room was named Wington Dormitory, he also remembered that some guy on the football team was called Wington. He then thought ‘It’s a shit hole you live in Chris’ but he stopped himself. Chris gave Sean a friendly slap on the shoulder, it didn't jiggly like it would of a week ago. “Have a good one” Chris smiled widely, seemingly having forgotten the earlier insult Sean watched Chris and the blond vanish into their dorm room. He chuckled to himself and head out, even whistling a little tune. As he left the main doors of the dormitory his nostrils flared and his cock throbbed. There was something rich and musky in the air. He followed it. The thick stench led to the trash cans, they were piled high with trash, having not been emptied this week. Perched on a slant between two black trash bags was a cactus. A large green cactus with a dark red flower atop it. Sean liberated the plant from the trash and inhaled deeply. He only got the small whiff putrid trash, the rest of his sinuses were filled with the musk rising off the cactus. Sean hid the potted cactus behind the trash cans, he’d return for it after he’d finished in the library. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Zack Buffone, like a lot of wait staff was a drama major, and like a lot of drama majors he never imagined he’d be a waiter. But he needed the money, college didn't pay for itself, especially when you had a father disappointed at your life choices. His dorm room in the Wington Building was like most other dorm rooms, two beds, a shared desk and with the simple decorations that each of the roommates had placed around to make it feel like home. Zack had placed a few posters on the wall above his bed, all of them for Broadway musicals. Rent, Wicked and Les Miserables to be specific. His roommate Lance, a golden blonde beach boy had two posters one an idolised version of his native San Diego and the other of some band that Zack was sure he only had up because it was the ‘in’ thing to do. Zack and Lance were different people, Lance naturally athletic, he’d even taken to lacrosse at the start of the year like he was born for it. While Zack was creative, and desperately trying to make a name for himself in the college drama department. They rarely talked, but they had talked it had always been civil, mostly about how to log onto the college computer system, or about their neighbour and his noisy arguments with his girlfriend. But right now their shared room looked like a tornado had torn through it. A neatly kept pile of Lance’s business books had been strewn across the desk. The desk chair had been knocked over and Lance’s mattress had been partly pulled off of the bed’s base. On Zack’s bed lay the tattered remains of his Paulie’s Pizzeria workshirt, like something had burst out of it. Sweat had drenched the sheets and the mattress appeared to be permanently imprinted by the sudden weight of a much too large occupant. The air was thick with the ripe smell of fresh cum and the sound of flesh slapping flesh bounced off the walls. A layer of musk was descending over the dorm room, the odour of sweat and muscle. Zack was standing at the small sink and mirror that all dorm rooms in the Wington building had. This wasn’t the Zack who’d waited tables the day before, the Zack who’d come home in a sweat and collapsed exhausted onto his bed, the Zack who was already feeling the effects of the cup of elixir he’d been accidentally dosed with. A cocky smirk lined his newly chiseled face, his right arm up and flexing. He wasn’t skinny anymore, his arm was thick with muscle. The rounded bicep bulging with the slightest movement. The rest of his body was just as big as his arm. His hand every now and then would grope at the meaty pecs he now owned, his entire body shining with a hearty olive tone. His black hair was glossy and now ran over his boulder like shoulders. Zack now towered above his dorm room, having grew over half a foot. He guessed he had to be at least 6’5 now, and with over a 100lbs of extra mass. Since nothing of his would fit him he’d steal something from Lance’s closet. He doubted anything of Lance’s would be anything but skintight. He was excited, barely thinking about what could've caused his growth. He was too busy stretching out his new muscles. Zack had tried out a number of poses, learning how to get his new muscles to listen to his commands. Lance though was having a completely different experience. Between Zack's newly thickened muscle thighs and with his head painfully banging against the sink was Lance. His hazel eyes bloodshot and teary, his jaw sore and Zack’s monstrous horsedick stretching out and down his throat. Zack’s rounded bare ass flexed with each thrust as he fucked his roommates struggling mouth. Lance had given up punching at Zack’s thighs and ass after the second load of cum had been shot down his gullet. Zack left hand was gripping tightly to Lance’s golden locks, “Fuck…….” Zack said for maybe the dozenth time His voice was deeper, richer and oozed confidence. An almost natural authority, it was how he’d got Lance onto his knees after their brief struggle. The smaller blonde boy didn't know how to pick a fight. He’d punched Zack in his steel hard abs, probably thinking Zack had broken into the room. He remembered asking what Lance wanted, the blondes eyes on Zack's bulge. The newly grown muscle man cupped his crotch, the blonde's eyes only widened. Then something just clicked into place in Zack’s head and he grabbed Lance by the throat and tossed him onto the floor. He cock slapped Lance’s beach tanned face a few times, then went to force open Lance's mouth, only to find it already opened wide. That was nearly two hours ago. Zack looked down his thick smooth pecs at Lance’s spit and cum covered face, he smirked. “You enjoying that” he asked He loosened his grip on Lance’s hair, his thrusting slowed. Lance’s head moved as much as it could, he didn’t need Zack to fuck his throat, he appeared more then happy to impale himself on Zack’s meat rod. A few drops of fresh sweat fell onto Lance’s hungry eyes, the cock tight in his throat, but Lance kept sucking. Zack just boomed out a laugh “I fucking knew it, weird that I’d wanted you to fuck me when we met” His speed returning to his thrusts “Never thought seeing you choke on my dick would of been the better option” With that he pulled out, Lance gasping for air. Zack’s fat cock swung for a second before rising up to slap at his six pack. Lacne’s hands were still holding onto Zack’s huge thighs. Zack pulled him to his feet. Happy to have Lance at chest level, he bounced his pecs in quick succession. Zack caught the growing bulge in Lance’s boxer shorts and smiled. He pushed Lance towards the beds, and gave his perky ass a slap that probably stung. “Pick a bed, I want to dump this load in your ass” he ordered.

Read Part One HERE Liquid Manhood Chapter Two The bed shook, the headboard banging against the wall. Big Ben liked having his fraternity brothers know when he was beating the monster. His battleship-sized feet hung off the end, his 50 inch TV blaring out the moans of some porn he’d stolen from another brother. But in Big Ben’s huge meaty hand was his phone, a blond twink choking down a fat cock drawing all of the giant linebacker’s attention. His other hand was furiously pounding at this swollen meat stick; his hearty bull nuts bouncing against the sweaty sheets. A load of cum was already drying on his heaving pecs. Big Ben was so grateful he wasn’t hairy. The flood of cum he shot every time he jacked off would’ve been hell to clean up. The look of his pecs having rich brown hair on would be sexy, and it only made Big Ben jack off harder. The room reeked of him, he was still covered in the gunk and sweat from practice the night before. He’d shower after he had come. After that he would wipe down his pecs, wishing he could get some guy to do it for him. He’d returned from practice and slept the rest of the day, more exhausted than usual. He could hear his brothers starting to wake, it was nearly time. Big Ben always timed his pre-shower strut so that he caught a couple of his brothers waking up. His heavy footfalls getting their attention as they wiped sleep from their eyes. They always laughed, though Big Ben could see some fear in their eyes as he thudded down the hall. Comments like, “Thank fuck my girlfriend isn't here” or “Taking the beast for a walk huh” would be uttered. Big Ben would just grunt or make some comment about the guy’s girlfriend. Then he’d get into the shower and as silently as possible he’d cover the tiles with cum thinking about doing the same to his fraternity brothers faces. Big Ben bit his lip as he shot. Cum splattering over the cold load from before, his balls unleashing an epic load. But Big Ben sat bolt upright, his hand looked odd on his cock, his fingers were wrapped around his fat cock, still rock hard and waiting to go for two or three more times. His fingers though were touching they hadn’t touched since he was 15. The floor shook as he got to his feet, wiping the cum off his thick chest with his blanket. He looked down as his now soft cock, the shock having killed his boner. It looked slimmer, not as salami fat as it used to. Even though he was near to grazing his head on the ceiling and making the oak floor struggle under his weight, he, Big Ben, the hulking linebacker, felt small. He grabbed his jockstrap from the floor and gave it a sniff, holding the reeking pouch against his face. The musk, his musk calmed him, the cotton tickling his stubbled jaw. He pulled it on, heading to the shower as quick as he could, for the first time in his life not wanting to be seen. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Melvin woke not to the sound of Chris’ alarm waking him hours before he needed to be woken, but to a horrific painful smell in his nose. He coughed and spluttered as he breathed in, it tasted like a locker-room. Reminding him of the smell of his fingers after handling Big Ben’s jock strap. “Good you’re awake” Chris said, he was already dressed and looked like he was heading out. Melvin let out some sort of sound that was meant to be words, but he was still too tired. “I’m going to check in on the jocks, I’ve got an hour or so spare.” He grinned, “Oh and check out Bert.” Melvin blinked a few times trying to get his eyes used to the bright light, Chris had opened the curtains and Melvin was blinded. He watched as Chris left, slamming the door. Melvin climbed out of bed, his baggy pajamas hiding his frumpy shape. He popped open a window. Must be the elixir making that smell. As he pulled back from leaning over the best he felt a strip of wetness spread down his shirt. It was Bert, or a cactus that must be Bert. Gone was the small little cactus, now a thick almost throbbing green foot of plant sat in the pot, two bulbous bulbs at its base. A large bright red flower had erupted at the tip, oozing ripe sap. Melvin sniffed the wet sap on his shirt, it smelt like the funk he’d woke up choking on. The door suddenly opened, Chris was back. “Bert…” Melvin started “He….” Chris butted in, “Looks like a penis. Yeah, I noticed” “So the stuff works,” Melvin asked excited. Chris nodded and stepped over to the desk picking up Bert’s pot, trying not to get reeking sap on himself. “What are you doing” Melvin asked following Chris as he headed to the door “I’m throwing Bert out, not having our room smell like a jockstrap,” Chris said and he turned, poking a finger into Melvin’s chest. “Don’t touch the elixir. We know what it does to a plant, but not what it does to humans.” Melvin nodded, “But can you buy me a new Bert?” Chris smiled sweetly, “Sure.” And he left, taking Bert with him, Melvin knew he’d never get a new one. ——————————————————————————————————————————— “19, 20, 21,” Barrett counted out loud as he continued his morning exercise routine,clad in only pajama shorts with the straps of his jockstrap peeking out from the waist line. His body dipped down and up with each push up, he was already sweaty, and feeling tired. He’d woken up refreshed, but oddly stiff, like he’d overworked himself at practice. But he hadn’t. He’d barely pushed himself. “25……..26...” he started, but his arms gave way half way through the last push up. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, the sounds of his frat brothers waking up echoing through the house. A second ago he’d heard the unmistakable sounds of Big Ben’s monstrous frame thudding past his room. He wondered if Big Ben was feeling just as odd as he was. It seemed that everyone at practice was off, and it wasn’t just because of the over partying on the weekend before. His room was massive, it had been his older brother’s when he was a member of the fraternity. A floor to ceiling mirror decorated one wall, hiding a closet. Barrett always hid how often he’d stare at himself in the mirror, flexing a bicep, arrogantly smirking at himself. But today as he sat up he looked at himself with concern. Even though he’d slept longer than normal he still looked tired. Greyish bags hung heavily under his eyes. Barrett stood up and stepped close to the mirror, flexing his bicep. It looked odd. It felt stiff, but looked softer. The skin wasn’t as taut over the muscle as it had been. He scratched at his balls with his free hand. “Gotta be sick,” he said to himself. He popped open the bedside table, ignoring the half full box of condoms he grabbed an assortment of pills. Throwing back his head he swallowed them down, covering all the bases: flu, allergies, headaches, he wasn’t letting this illness get any further. Barrett went to leave his room, time for breakfast, he stopped though and looked down at his ripped bare chest. He sighed, and like all the other footballers he grabbed something to cover himself up, unsure about his own perfection. He flexed his arm one last time, the sleeve of his shirt not near to bursting as his muscle bulged. He jogged down the stairs, whistling, putting on his cocky demeanour. The kitchen was alive with big beefy jocks grabbing their breakfast, barely any bare chests. Only the best built non-football players were shirtless. Barrett grabbed a piece of toast another brother had cooked for himself, the guy wouldn’t complain, at least not to Barrett’s face. He leaned against a kitchen counter, watching the group. His fraternity was a house of beasts, all the main guys from the football team in one place, and most of the other star players of other sports, with Barrett as the top dog. The rest of the football team’s massive roster were in lesser frats or lived off campus, Barrett couldn’t think of any freshmen still living in dorms, maybe one or two of the new guys hadn’t been sucked up by the fraternities yet. He scratched at his balls while he ate, his fellow football players looked just as tired as he was. Bags under their eyes, paler than normal. All with hunched shoulders and dim looks on their faces. “Gotta talk to Peters,” Barrett muttered Maybe they needed a break, whatever illness Barrett had looked to be spreading around the frat. He’d have a word with Coach Peters about an easier practice schedule. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Next door to Chris and Melvin, their rarely seen neighbour was still sleeping as the clocks passed noon. His name was Sean and he’d worked all summer so he could afford to pay for a single room. He didn’t want to share his personal space with anyone. His single room was dark with only the dull glow of his PS4 on standby lighting the room. The curtains were pulled tight and were dusty, never having been opened since he moved in. A plush gaming armchair sat in front of the rooms desk facing a large top of the line TV Sean had got from his parents for winning the scholarship to Lincoln University. An indent of Sean’s fat rounded ass was visible on the seat’s cushion, the fabric tainted with Dorito dust. Sean was a nerd, a massive gamer, and an avid reader of comic books. He was a stereotype. He was also a loner. He only left his dorm to use the bathroom, for classes and food shopping. He was greasy, spotty, and rounded with limp plump fat, but he was a nice guy. Always helping classmates in class, even though he hated public speaking. If he was a little more sociable he'd have a lot of friends, he’d already been invited to join a couple of fraternities and his professor wanted him to run for the student council, but Sean just wanted to be alone and play games with people on the other side of the world he’d never have to talk to. He was snoring loudly, the weight of his fatty chest causing the choke sounding rumblings as he lay on his back in bed. His greasy bright red hair plastered to his spotty forehead. Only his head was visible from behind the covers. He was only 5’6. Even the dorm room’s small single bed was too big for him. Drip, Drip, Drip. Drops of green liquid fell onto Sean’s blankets, above Sean a line of green was spreading over the ceiling. Rising up from a crack in the wall, a patchwork of vein like green stains were stretching out from behind a set of shelves cluttered with books and PS4 games. With an almost sentient intent the green liquid grew out over the ceiling, it drips moving further up Sean’s blankets till the drops started to land in Sean’s gaping maw. The drips increased in intensity, and size, soon it was like a steady stream trickling from the ceiling down Sean’s throat. He didn’t splutter or gag, the liquid quickly vanishing into the walls of his mouth and throat. But the taste was horrid, a foul salty taste. Like drinking cool sweat. Sean’s eyes fluttered behind his eyelids and the dripping stopped. In the dark though the green stains on the ceiling and the wall wasn’t noticeable, even with a bright light it would be hard to notice against the darkly painted room. Sean made a moaning sound and sat up slowly. Rubbing sleep from his eyes, a hand then wiping green liquid from his lips and onto his pajama shirt, thinking it was just drool. The chubby nerd climbed out of bed, his hand reaching for a cola bottle on the small snack table next to his gaming chair. He took a long swig from it and then dropped his fat ass onto his armchair. His console controller already in hand he flicked the PS4 on and started to play, he had a couple hours spare before class. With Sean’s attention on his gaming the green liquid snaked its way over the ceiling. A fat raindrop of the elixir fell, landing in the open cola bottle, just as Sean reached over to pick it up to take another sip. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Barrett was on the treadmill in the college’s expansive gym, he’d just gotten the shit verbally kicked out of him by the Coach. How dare he ask to lighten the load, the Coach had bellowed at him. He was even threatened with losing his captaincy, and again compared to his older brother. How his older brother would never have asked for something so stupid, especially when there was so much competition this year from other teams. He was being punished, half an hour on the treadmill. It was meant to be easy for Barrett, more a punishment that would screw up his schedule, but Barrett was struggling. It was like all his stamina was gone, he was sweating and panting. His balls were so itchy, the cotton of his jock rubbing his hefty balls and was making them beg for a scratch. He’d almost fallen over whenever he went to itch them, and it was messing with his mind. It was like when he was doing laps at practice, he just felt drained. He’d have to get an appointment with a doctor. He was sick. With still 10 minutes left Barrett slowed down the treadmill, now walking he coughed out and spluttered. He gripped his chest, under his toned pec muscles his heart was racing. He’d never been his unfit, he’d never struggled like this. His free hand scratched at his balls, they were overheating like the rest of him. Slick with sweat and so itchy, he’d have to wash his jock. His face was bright red as he dragged his worn out legs to a water fountain. His arms screamed as he braced himself against the fountain to take a dozen or so mouthfuls of cooling water. “Barrett” a voice asked Barrett stopped drinking and sighed, it was Yuri the captain of the college swim team. He was a frat brother. Barrett pulled himself up, standing tall to look down at his frat brother and rival. It was an unspoken rivalry, but Yuri had wanted to head the frat, but Barrett beat him to it. He was sure that Yuri hadn’t let it go. “Yuri” Barrett smiled “How you doing” He was trying to be cocky, trying to be Barrett, but he was still red faced and sweating through his shirt. “You ok” Yuri asked, the ripped half Russian looking amazing in his workout gear “You look sick” “Yea… I think I’m coming down with something” Barrett said dropping his attitude Yuri held out his full water bottle and Barrett took it. “I have a spare, drink this on the walk back” Yuri said with a smile Barrett knew it was sign of submission, he was showing weakness to someone he was fighting with, even if the fight was all in Barrett’s head. Yuri turned and headed further into the gym, Barrett watched him leave. He felt deflated, but he took a long swig from the water bottle. He took a few deep breaths, feeling his energy coming back. Barrett left the gym, his footfalls slow and laboured. His shirt felt a little loose, maybe it was just cause it was being weighed down by all the sweat. He scratched his balls, he had two things to do today get a doctors appointment and wash this itchy jock. First though he needed to sleep. He hadn’t planned on getting this worn out today, but if he had it wouldn't be on a twenty minute jog. He yawned as he stepped out of the gym and his shoulder thudded into a shorter very well dressed guy. “Sorry” Barrett muttered as he hurried pass The first time he’d apologised for such an action, usually he’d berate the other guy. Instead he continued back to the frat, swigging from the water bottle. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Chris stared as Barrett walked away from him. He rubbed his shoulder, Barrett was still solid, but the reaction was a change. He’d seen Barrett explode in anger after someone just looked at him wrong. But he apologised, the powder was working, not only draining Barrett’s size and strength, but taking more. It was sapping away at Barrett’s ego, his confidence, and it had only been a day. The powder worked fast, Chris could only imagine what would happen in a week or so. He sent a text to Melvin, saw Barrett the guy looks sick, it read. He was being careful, Chris didn't know where the magic book had came from. For all he knew there was an entire magical world which wouldn't look to kindly on him playing in their world. So he was being as normal as possible and he’d warned Melvin about doing the same. No mention of the stones or the plan on any computers or phones. Only the notes he’d written down in the magic book. He took a quick lap of the gym, only seeing Yuri the swim team captain on a rowing machine. Chris wondered whether he should move his sights onto the other sports team after the football team were drained. But then what would he do with all the elixir, it wasn’t like he and Melvin would need very much to get the bodies they deserved. That was if Chris even let Melvin have any elixir.

New story, been in the works and then forgotten about for a while. Came about after chatting to another member of the forum about how muscle-lost or muscle-theft wasn't getting much screen time here, so I thought I'd give it a shot. Got three parts written and got three more parts planned, tell me what you think Liquid Manhood Chapter One “Hold this” Chris ordered and stuffed the flimsy plastic bag into Melvin’s hands Melvin held the bag away from him, slightly wary of its contents. His hands like Chris’ were gloved not just to mask fingerprints but to stop any contact with the grey powder inside the bag. He was still unsure of the plan, but Chris had talked him into it. Melvin didn’t even think it would work, how could a powder do what Chris promised. “It’s gonna work” Chris said like he’d read Melvin’s mind “I’m sure it will” Melvin said his voice crackly like it had never fully broke during puberty “You saw what happened when I carved the symbols onto the stones” Chris stated turning back to look at his smaller roommate Chris stared down at Melvin, some menace in his dark eyes. He was trying to sense doubt, but Melvin won him over. Chris smiled and Melvin sighed internally. Chris could be intense at times. Melvin followed his roommate down the winding corridors of their university’s athletic department with the bag held an arm’s length ahead of him. The memory of the stones that the two had crushed into easy to transport powder was fresh in Melvin’s mind. They were just normal pebbles taken from the college green. But when Chris flicked out a pen knife and scraped strange runic symbols into the greyish surface of each pebble they changed. One blue, one red, one yellow and pink. Their hard grey surface flushed with their new colouring, and then how Chris had carefully crushed them with the but of his penknife. They reached the doors leading into their college’s locker rooms, a roaring cartoon lion had been painted on the doors. The Lincoln Lions, the 8 time championship winning football team. Chris hated them, and Melvin didn’t like them any better. Chris held out a lean hand and muttered something, there was a crack and the locked doors swung open. “The book hasn't failed me yet” Chris grinned and stepped into the dimly lit locker room. Melvin just nodded, the book scared him. Chris was obsessed with it, a massive, ancient, leather bound tome. He would spend hours reading it, translating vast passages into English, testing countless times the various spells and incantations, half of which barely worked. But this time it turned out the ‘lock pick’ spell worked just as it said it would. Maybe these ‘drain’ stones would work as the book claimed. “You’re more confident now aren't you” Chris said, and Melvin could hear the smile in his voice Chris strode confidently through the lockers. He knew what he was after. He must have staked out the place, Melvin thought. “Here we go” Chris said gleefully He pulled a wheeled laundry basket out from a small alcove between two rows of lockers and gently pushed it towards Melvin. “Hand me the bag” Chris ordered and Melvin passed it back “You search the laundry” Melvin nodded and watched as Chris tore the bag open. The grey powder pooled in the centre of the ripped plastic and Chris looked around for something to scoop the powder up with. Melvin started to look through the laundry for their desired prize and he grimaced. “Here, will this work as a scooper” He tossed a large sweaty athletic cup to Chris Chris frowned and let the cup drop to the floor before picking it up and scooping a cupful of powder out of the pile with it. “Ready,” he said as Melvin searched deeper pass the large jerseys and padded pants Wordlessly he tossed a jock strap over his shoulder, he’d rather bathe in the magical powder then touch the cock sweat soaked cotton. Chris grabbed at the jock eagerly and emptied the powder filled cup into the pouch. The powder glittered as it fell and then slowly seeped into the cotton as it made contact. Melvin watched... it was really working. “How….” He started. Chris anticipating his question started before he could finish speaking. “It’s the sweat, it’s why we needed to catch the laundry before it had been washed” Chris explained filling the cup again “The powder fuses with the fabric only if its been in contact with biological matter” “So the player's cock and balls,” Melvin said, tossing another jock over his shoulder “You got it,.” Chris smirked, tainting another strap with the powder Melvin knew he needed to find 83 different jockstraps to get the entire roster of players. Even then some might slip through the net. Their chances of getting them all had only been boosted because Coach Peters had ordered a full team practice in full uniform, the first one since the freshman year had started. Melvin knew that Chris had been ready to do this from the first day of the year, but he was waiting, waiting to get them all. He remembered when Chris had explained the plan to him, it was after he’d got drenched by a water balloon tossed by Barrett Wington, the golden blond captain of the football team and alpha frat boy of Lincoln University. Melvin knew Chris was manipulating him, getting him more and more angry at Barrett and the other jocks. Almost getting Melvin to beg for a way of getting revenge. He hadn’t expected such a massive plan, such a damaging plan, but at least he was getting back at Barrett and in turn every bigger man who had fucked with little shy Melvin during high school. “How many is that” Melvin asked, tossing another jock into the tainted pile. He’d already found another laundry trolley after emptying the last one of all the jock straps. “82,” Chris said. “Maybe one didn’t come,” he shrugged. Melvin gave the trolley one last look. “Nope… here it is.” He pulled the jock out from the laundry and hooked his fingers under the straps. It was a monster, a basket of cotton, and it reeked. “Who the fuck do you think packs himself into this,” he asked. “Damn,” Chris laughed. “Gotta be Big Ben.” Big Ben was a 6’10 linebacker, a walking wall. “You’d hope, cause no one else has the size to warrant a cock this big,” Melvin sniggered, tossing the tent over to Chris. It almost parachuted down into Chris’ hands, and, with a moment of thought, Chris poured what was left into the jock. “Big guy is gonna need a little more to bring him down,” He explained With the dirty jocks glittering slightly the two gloved freshmen tossed the jocks back into the laundry trolleys. They covered their tracks by pushing the trolleys back to their original places. “No evidence,” Chris said, washing the ripped plastic bag under a shower head before tossing it in the trash. Melvin nodded and traced his steps back, finding nothing to hint at their presence. The two left the locker room and, with a soft thud, the locks popped back into place as Chris pulled the door closed. “When will we know if it has worked,” Melvin asked when they returned under the cover of darkness to their shared room. “When the jars start to fill,” Chris said pulling off his gloves. The jars were four large glass cylinders with taps at the bottom. They sat on a high shelf on Chris’ side of the room. Each with a sticker with the different symbols of the stones they represented. Chris had explained that each symbol had a colour for what it would drain. Blue for Fortitude, or strength and agility. Red for Dominance, or attitude and power. Yellow for Stature, or size and grace. Pink for Virility, or looks and charm. These stones, when combined, would drain everything that makes a man a man. The inside of the jars had what Chris called a ‘condenser’ stone glued to the top. Chris had spent hours explaining the magic to Melvin since the start of the year. The ‘condenser’ would receive the stolen essence from the tainted jocks, and, in turn, the essence would drip down into the jars. When the jars were filling the taps would turn on and slowly empty the essence down the pipes into a larger jar on the shelf below. This jar was the ‘Master Jar’ as Chris kept calling it. The stolen essences from the four stones would combine into a complete manhood elixir. Chris would always end this explanation looking like he was about to cum. He was obsessed by it, but Melvin too was beginning to obsess over it too. “Should happen on Monday,” Chris explained. “There is a practice then, so it should start draining the first of the jocks then.” Chris dropped onto his bed and flicked off the light, leaving Melvin to find his own bed in the darkness. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Barrett swaggered down the corridor, his size 15 sneakers stomping across the floor. People stepped aside when he came towards them. It was almost enough to get his swinging cock hard. He was the big man on campus, a god, and part of a proud dynasty. Barrett Wington was only the latest Wington to come to Lincoln, but it was his older brother who’d left the biggest mark. Andrew Jackson Wington, or A.J. to most, was the captain who’d taken a terrible football team and made them champions. He’d started the team’s 8 year winning streak, which had continued under Barrett. He brushed a hand through his thick blond hair and then slapped his older brother’s football helmet which sat in a shrine outside the athletic department. It was a tradition, before every game and practice the helmet got slapped. But the shrine’s oversized picture of A.J in his Dallas Cowboys uniform made Barrett feel like he was a 10 year old again, only downside of being a Wington in Lincoln was that A.J would always be looking down at you somewhere. The guy was a hero, even though he’d only won two championships, while Barrett had won three. Then again, the added weight of three super-bowls really made A.J. a legacy to compete with. Barrett rolled his shoulders as he passed into the locker room, most of the guys were already there and changing. He stopped at his locker, his entire uniform was freshly washed and waiting for him. He smiled and started to strip. He decided to go shirtless today, the cheer team would be practicing on the other side of the field, he wanted to impress. Shirtless and with his tanned abs glistening under the locker room lights. He dropped his basketball shorts, his soft cock swung a little as he slipped his big wide feet through the straps of his jock and pulled it up. A chill ran down his spine, what the fuck were they washing these jocks in he wondered. He rearranged his packed pouch. “Better” he muttered in a smooth voice He led the team out onto the field and they started some stretches. His 6’4” frame appeared more bendy than many expected. Giving anyone watching a good view of his athletic ass as he stretched out his legs. The guys though seemed unfocused today, probably the hangover running through from the party on Saturday. “Light weights,” he muttered. A shadow fell over him. “What was that, boss,” Big Ben asked down to him. “Oh shit,” Barrett chuckled, spinning round. “How the fuck can you sneak up on someone?” Big Ben just laughed deeply and gave his crotch a tug. A grimace on his square face. “You ok,” Barrett asked then poked Big Ben in his solid stomach. “You feed that thing today?” Big Ben didn’t laugh. “Yea, I’m cool,” and he stomped over to do his warmups, the ground shaking with each massive step. Coach Peters appeared, a cigar in his mouth and a baggy sweat suit pulled over his flabby frame. “Boys…..” he bellowed and the team gathered Barrett gave his cock a scratch through his shorts as he jogged over. Big Ben looked like the monster was trying to escape with how rough he was rearranging himself. “It was a tough practice last week. No one let me down,” Peters continued chewing on the end of the cigar. “Today we are gonna be a little lighter, some cardio, then hit the gym.” Barrett smirked. “Some cardio” was code for “as many laps as you can do before you fall down and then five more.” Peters was a slave driver, a hard ass, but he was the best. Barrett led the pack of built, hulking athletes, his thighs flexing with each long stride around the field. He’d quicken his pace when he passed the cheerleaders though, get some distance between him and the other guys, make it look like he was always miles ahead. The entire time though he had this scratch at the base of his balls that he just couldn’t shake. No matter how many times he palmed his swollen nuts it was still there. “Man, I can’t go on,” Danny one of the players said as he caught up to Barrett. “Fucking off my game, I’ll see you in the gym.” Barrett slowed and watched Danny walk off the field.Others were joining Danny. “WHAT THE FLYING FUCK,” Coach Peters screamed at Danny. “My mother can run more laps and she’s been dead for decades!” Barrett winced. Peters could reach a high pitch when he was pissed. “Weird, isn’t it,” Big Ben said as he thudded to a stop next to Barrett. “Danny usually is the last to stop running.” “Fucking prides himself on it,” Barrett added. Both jocks scratched at their ample manhoods. “Something is up,” Barrett said and they looked curiously at each other. “No more parties,” Big Ben offered. “Damn right, can’t start getting sloppy,” Barrett answered and the two headed into the gym their hands deep in their sweaty jock pouches. ——————————————————————————————————————————— Melvin was crooked nose deep in a fantasy novel when Chris burst into the room. Chris was tall, about 6ft and very wealthy, dressed in all designer clothes he looked like he’d come off a runway usually. But today he was sweating, excited and red faced. “It’s happening,” he exclaimed and knelt on his bed and looked to the jars on the shelves. “What,” Melvin questioned, gently placing the book back on his own shelves above his bed. “I saw the football team in the gym. We should be getting some essence,” Chris said in a rushed voice. Melvin looked to the jars. They were filling, blue, red, yellow and pink liquid dripped from the stones at the top of the jars. About an inch of colourful liquid was filling each jars. “Shit,” Melvin said, awestruck. “I knew you doubted me,” Chris grinned as he checked out the master jar and its pipes. He pulled the jar back and then pushed it back further onto the shelf. He didn't want it falling off. A hairline crack appeared on the underside as it gently hit the wall, but neither Chris or Melvin noticed. With great excitement Chris turned the taps on each jar and the two roommates watched as the liquids slowly flowed down into the master jar. “Green,” Melvin said as the colours mixed and a rich emerald green colour emerged. “Never thought green would be the colour of manhood,” Chris chuckled lightly. Chris jumped past Melvin and grabbed Melvin’s potted cactus, “Bert”, from their shared desk. “What are you doing,” Melvin asked, trying to get Bert out of Chris’ hands. “Testing the elixir, we can’t just swallow it down, can we,” Chris explained. He held the pot under the master jar’s tap and turned on the flow, a couple drops oozed out and soaked into Burt’s surrounding dirt. Chris turned off the flow and handed Burt back to Melvin. “Give it till tomorrow morning,” Chris said and he just sat and watched the liquids mix. Melvin placed Bert back on the desk, next to “Ernie” his fellow potted cactus. “If Burt dies you’re buying me a new one,” Melvin sighed. Chris didn't respond.

Finally, another chapter.....a group of the boys are heading off for muscle worship in LA! Part 1. Sorry it has taken me so long to continue. ENJOY! Comments welcome... 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 Chapter 22: Field Trips for Worship Part 1 December 5th, 2021 “And explain to me why again, Sergeant Moster, just precisely why this so-called “research” trip to Los Angeles is so necessary?” Moster and Zaftig were in his office. Dr. Zaftig sighed with studied patience, as if for the fiftieth time. It was part of the little act he put on every time Sergeant Rod Moster demanded a special (and highly expensive) worship excursion for the army of musclemen. And with the launch of each new off-campus foray, Zaftig always had Moster on the carpet in his lavish office, though he knew nothing he could ever say would cancel the trip, change the plan, or unnerve the massive muscle monster. Still, Zaftig tried. Damn, it wasn't even good science. “Once again, privately scheduled sessions with our client supporters is good for business, and for the men, it’s good for – “ “I know, it’s all for their morale…. .” Another sigh. “Sir,” said Moster, trying a recently discovered new tactic. “I don’t have your kind of money,” Zaftig nodded. It was a reasonable argument. “None of the men do. And the men need to earn some heavy lucre as well during their good years. Private worship sessions are…” “Yes, yes, so you have said. And I know that for you, rather than seeing these men as fighting machines, or heralds of an eternal fountain of youth, you see them as sexual receptacles, monsters of muscle and able to confer fantastic favors. I know, I know.” Another sigh. “In any event, they have decades of good years yet to come. I’ve seen to that. My work has seen to that. And yeah, yeah, I know, I know. It’s all good for fucking morale. Frankly, I don’t see it.” Moster raised an eyebrow. Such language was unheard of for Zaftig. These trips – and the inevitable costly clean-up aftermath – must be getting to him. He changed his tone accordingly. “The men require outside worship sessions, sir, and more frequently than you allow. As and as for the money…” “Fine. FINE. FINE. Take them to LA but be back in 48 hours.” “72 hours.” “FINE.” A pause. “How much do they make?” “Sir?” “Come on. Money. How much are they paid? Per ‘appearance’, if you want to put it that way. What’s the going rate?” Moster coughed a little. “They average about $6,000 each per ‘appearance’ as it were.” Zaftig whistled. “Wow. I assume that’s the for the whole group?” “No.” Moster paused.”Per man.” Zaftig reflected.”Per man….” Zaftig took it in, his attitude changed. He nodded reflectively. “And how much time per…. . performance?” “About one hour each.” “$6,000 an hour?” “Sir, the men will do anything they are requested to do.” He paused. “Anything. With anyone. As long as their muscles are being admired. As long as they’re being worshipped. Touched. Stroked. Praised. Longed for…” “Yeah, yeah, I get it, I get it.” Sergeant Moster was silent. “You do realize that you’re prostituting them. Right? Yes? You know this?” Moster said nothing. “Your silence tells me that you do understand exactly that. Where are you going this time?” “Brentwood. Then the Hollywood Hills.” “Oh, Christ. Movie people?” “Some. The money is best there.” “Is Dr. Shaft coming with you?” Moster paused. He hadn’t wanted this. “Yes, of course, if you insist.” “I would prefer it, yes. And try to stay out of the papers this time.” Moster smiled. “You mean try to stay off TMZ. Off Facebook. Instagram, SnapChat and YouTube?” Zaftig snickered, in spite of himself. “Yes, thank you for reminding me that I’m antediluvian. I know. You make your point. Yes. Whatever. Stay off the radar. Whatever the radar is these days, and whatever that may mean. Low profile. That means no unexpected hospitalizations, either.” "The men won't require medical care.” "I'm not talking about the men, I'm taking about the poor saps who are paying thousands of dollars per man who get the shit beat out of them. Jaws broken, eyes blackened, smashed noses, all in the way of ‘worship. ’ “It’s not that violent, sir.” “Bullshit. Who are you taking? The new boy, Casey?” “Yes. I am guessing I may be able to get $15,000 for Casey. $8,000 in his pocket. Perhaps more. It will be his first time, and he’s eager. And – we suspect he has extraordinary inner desires of his own which may increase the quality of the experience.” "Who else?" "Alvarez, Lang, Hension, Waring, Schumacher, Washington, Abdul, Obatu, and Gunst.” "Right. Ten of them.” “Yes.” “What's that thing that Alvarez and Lang do together. . . ?" "Pose and approve, sir.” "Yes.” Zaftig chucked. “Pose and approve. That's good. No Blankenship? I though he was one of your hottest boys. Missing gap teeth, knocked out by Abdul, all that.” “He wants to stay behind and work on his pecs. He’s dissatisfied. And we’re replacing those missing teeth.” Zaftig nodded. He knew. $10,000 for caps. He sighed again. “His pecs are perfect now.” “He wouldn’t agree. I assume, sir, we have your permission to go?” “Ten of them. Eleven, with you. I assume you’re part of the display?” Moster smiled. “I get $12,000.” “God. Of course you do. Yes, yes, go, go. GO. Take a driver who will stay sober and off drugs. Take Ferdinand. He doesn’t care, for crissakes. And take a reserve of White Caps, and take $18,000 in petty cash. Get it from Rose in the outer office. Try not to spend it in one place. Be back by Sunday night. “Yes, sir.” “And check in with Dr. Irving before you go. Take him with you for the private sessions.” Moster started out. “I want video! Good video. And make sure you meet up with Dr. Shaft. I want him to observe.” Moster stopped in the doorway and smiled grimly. “Oh, he’ll like that.” “Yes, he will. Try not to beat the crap out of him this time, Sergeant.” “I hardly “beat” him up….” “Last time you saw him personally, he wound up with two black eyes, a broken nose, and couldn’t sit down for a month without a sitz pillow.” “He enjoyed it all, sir.” “I know he did. All the same, I need to keep him alive.” He smiled a little. “However, you may spank him if you must. I know you like that.” “I look forward to it, sir.” Zaftig sighed, frustrated as always that his chief research fellow, the talented Dr. Shaft, was so crazily in need to worship his muscular lab rats. “I need his latest research on the effects of P21a, the new serum we’re working on, to promote healthier vascularity. I don’t want my men to start collapsing of heart attacks when they’re 55. Or have my chief researcher get beaten to death, however pleasurably and however much he asks for it. ‘Observing’ – I know, it’s bullshit…” Moster smiled once again at Zaftig’s unusual terminology. “Your language, sir…” “Fuck you.” “Yes, sir.” “Not that I want to.” Moster nodded, again inwardly respectful. Zaftig was, at heart, pure, with no sexual needs or inner longer for his mountainous boys. Moster couldn’t say the same of himself, with his own ever-present, barely cloaked need to spank their rocky, perfect glutes and have them all worship at the fountain of his own gigantic cock. And, for the few who could manage it, get his own mountainous butt deeply fucked. And somehow, he felt this made Zaftig slightly the stronger of the two. Zaftig was still talking about Dr. Shaft. “Just don’t hurt him this time. Don’t sit on his face for an hour. Last January your ass broke his collarbone, and after he complained to me, you saw him again, and once again, he couldn’t sit down for a month. I need him with the Join Chiefs in February. Hopefully unbandaged, and able to sit.” “You got it, chief.” “Don’t call me chief.” “Sorry, Dr. Zaftig. Anything else?” “Yes. Keep an eye on the new boy.” “Rockland?” “Yes. This is his first of your worship tours, right?” “Yep. Yes, sir. It is indeed.” “He’s used to…. the games you put the men through…. by now?” Zaftig spoke with resigned distaste. “He took right to it, sir.” “I might have known. But then, the source was Miles Donovan’s gym, after all.” “I don’t believe he was active there.” “No, that’s right, he wasn’t, I remember now. All right. That boy shows promise. Don’t ruin him.” “I haven’t ruined any of the men yet, sir.” “You’ve injected them all with the psychological need to pose naked in front of strangers who then proceed to beg them for outlandish sexual favors. I am not sure of the long term effects of this.” Moster regarded him evenly for a moment. “I am,” he said. “I am sure.” And turned to go. ****** Slightly before dawn the next morning the Valhalla bus – a $250,000 custom job, replete with comfortable plush seating, overwide aisles, juice bar, high speed Wi-Fi, Bluetooth, and a small snack counter - left the compound. Nine selected men, plus Sergeant Moster, Dr Irving, and the slightly disgusted if certainly envious, non-muscle worshipping bus driver Ferdinand were off to LA to make the select client rounds. Dr. Shaft had been alerted and was proceeding directly to LA in his own private car. Three appointments, in Brentwood, Beverly Hills, and in the Hollywood Hills, had been discreetly confirmed by Rose. The Hollywood Hills stop was to be the first of the evening – and was the biggest. The total cash earnings for the weekend of muscle worship in three locations might exceed $200,000. Barring any unusual cleanup expenses (furniture damage, walls replaced, carpet torn up and relaid, plumbing bills, broken windows, and so forth), hospitalizations or lawyer fees, the net gain could exceed $160,000. And after the appointments, the men were also to be allowed some free time after the obligatory scheduled visits. Each man was given a tablet and a private burner phone to make their own private client appointments. An hour into the drive, the men were finally calm, quiet, settled in, and busy. They all wore oversized, roomy grey sweats, Valhalla logos blazened across massive chests. Workout that morning had been scheduled for 4 AM, with another afternoon workout planned at Gold’s in Venice, which had been privately booked for the occasion, at a cost of $30,000. Biceps had been blasted to the explosion point, pecs worked past all expectations. Extra doses of P21 had been supplied and the already damaged muscles were well on their way to repair, ready for an afternoon blasting. In addition, the men had been cautioned in no uncertain terms by Moster neither to “play” nor cum for the 24-hour period before departure. Punishment for infringement would be a very public and very painful raw glutes paddling in the Gold’s Venice parking lot. None of the men wanted this, although the prospect of such attention in private was always appealing. And so, for more than a day not a man in the group had shot his load. Moster anticipated cumulative cumblasts would reach the multi-gallon point by weekend finish. Many a wealthy patron could look forward to a thorough facial of rich, thick cumshots following some vicious customer throat plowing and thorough client asshole destroying by the weekend wrap. It didn’t really matter, though. The men were looking forward to the worship sessions as much as, truth be told, was Moster, who relished the thought of a little flexing and posing on his own. Moster gave them all a little pep talk after they boarded. “Men, we’re on our way to LA. I know we have all been looking forward to this trip. Haven’t we, Casey?” The handsome young musclebuck was alone in his rear row seat, across the aisle from Hension, who was bent over in his seat, busily texting. Casey colored and glanced down into his lap, where he could see his massive tool twitching impatiently beneath yards of sweatsuit crotch fabric. He’d followed the directum even more than the most and not masturbated for three days. He thought he very well might die, so that morning he had blasted his biceps in the pre-dawn workout way past the agony point, with 30 minutes devoted to single arm curls at 250 pounds apiece. Nor had he sucked a cock for 3 days. Cocksucking was something new for him, and he now had an almost insatiable taste for it, preferring quietly to visit the unthreatening, pint-sized, pretty young kitchen boy Pedro for mutual blowjobs. Discreetly grabbed after hours 69 sessions that left them both breathless and elated. Pedro, unbelieving that so much beautiful muscle cock could be gently presented to his eager lips. Casey, awed that he actually preferred the pretty, undersized body of boytoy Pedro, with his perfect, normal-sized dick and average cumload. Inwardly Casey felt some satisfaction that he shared Pedro with Karim Abdul, who was unaware of sharing Casey’s preference for good-looking teens who weighed almost 200 pounds less than he did. Karim might get physically nasty if he knew Casey was also getting oral satisfaction from Pedro, and moreover was giving it back, something that had never occurred to Karim. And while Casey relished the idea of pummeling the Arab’s face black and blue for 15 or 20 minutes – which he knew he could do now, because he was probably stronger than any of them – nevertheless, he didn’t want Karim to take revenge on the defenseless, handsome little Puerto Rican. So he kept it all a secret. Besides, it was less about pure worship and more about bonding with another guy. He liked Pedro’s exceptionally pretty 7” cock. Not as big as the other men’s organs, true, but just as tasty, and on the slight, lean brown-skinned little Pedro, 7” went a long, long way. As for Pedro, now in the heaven era of his days on the planet, with all the discreet muscle action he was getting (he was also seeing Blankenship, Obatu and Gunst on the side, and had more big muscle cock to suck that he’d ever dreamed of), he was content to bypass worship sessions with Casey just to get down to the business of good teenboy cocksucking. And, best of all, Casey was nice. And surprisingly gentle. And surprisingly hungry. Casey glanced across the aisle. “What’re you doing?” Casey asked Hension. “Takin' care of business. I know what I want.” He scrubbed through his phone lists and speed dialed. “Hello, baby?” he asked. “Yeah, it’s me. Chris Hension. The muscledude. YEAH! That's ME. I’m comin’! I'm on the bus to LA now!! We can finally meet…. . tonight?? Awesome! Yeah, I’m ready for you, momma!. . . I got these big dirty muscles, see, and I’m gonna flex 'em all big time for ya, show you what I got, and then show you my package, and you’re gonna punish me for it all, right?? Slap my face good and hard? And then I can fuck you? And then you can fuck ME? And slap me some more??” He listened a moment, then shouted. “YEAH!” The bulge in his fly began to grow and he bounced eagerly in his seat. "Hey, baby, I kin hardly wait. . .” “Lower your voice, asshole,” Gunst groaned. “Sorry!” Hension continued his crooning conversation in a cackling lower voice. “Yeah, my pictures are real. Yeah, I’m really that handsome. And the muscles are real, too! Wanna picture now? Okay!” He positioned the phone and snapped a quick selfie, flexing his free biceps. Casey was amazed with what speed and dexterity Hension attached the image and sent it off. “He’s not that much smarter than I am…” Casey pondered. “How come he can do this so fast….?” “That’s me! Get it yet? Yeah??! That’s ME, baby! Why would I lie to you babe? We just gotta do some private worship appointments first…. worship…. you know, rich dudes admiring our muscles and then goin’ down on us….” He giggled….” Oh, yeah, I’m a bad boy, a real bad boy, I need some real punishment at the hands of a really sharp and pretty lady who knows what she’s doin’…” Lang, sitting with Alvarez in the row ahead, turned around in his seat and tapped Casey lightly on his superwide shoulder. “You been worshipped before, dude?” Casey was surprised that the normally watchful Lang was actually speaking to him. He paused, smiled weakly, remembered his cadet buddies, thought briefly of Pedro, remembered the cadets in his room, and nodded shyly. “Yeah, I guess. Yeah.” “It come to anything?” “Well….” “You like it?” Casey thought a little. He smiled weakly. “Yeah. I liked it. I liked it a lot.” "Thought so.” Alvarez, window seat, turned and looked back as well. “Done it professionally?” he asked. “Um. No. Professionally?" "Get paid for it?" "No. Not yet.” Alvarez nodded and turned back to the window. “You’ll dig it!” said Lang enthusiastically. “It’s awesome. Dudes with money who can’t get enough of our muscles!! Flex for a few minutes and they give you all they got.” He turned back in his seat, texting. “Who we seein’?” Casey heard Lang ask. “We got some good ones…lotsa scratch. . . . we'll all make out.” He turned back to Casey. "You got privates, you call them now.” “Privates?” Casey thought they were referring to his junk. “Yeah. Privates. You know. Schmoes.” “What are schmoes?” “Dude, you know nothing.” “He hasn’t had time, dummy,” said Alvarez. He turned back to Casey and spoke not unkindly. “You’ll do fine on the worship circuit once you get out there. Make some connections.” He turned back to his phone, and Casey couldn’t hear anything else. Privates. No, no privates. How could he have privates if he never was paid before? Casey thought about all this. And dreamed. He settled his bulk back in his plush seat and gazed at the landscape roaring by, unseeing, beyond the tinted windows. He had no one to text to arrange a private yet. He didn’t know anybody, really. But maybe that would come later. Because . . . . . . . he longed to revisit his muscle planet, the one he’d first glimpsed in darkness when his buddies had gathered around him in his old dorm room. Where, led by smirking, smiling, but approving Cadet Banks, his buddies had started to stroke and touch and caress his muscles, murmuring their obeisance. And he’d gone to the moon. And further. He remembered. It was just Casey in the galaxy. Flexing his muscles. His huge ripped vascular ungodly magnificent muscles. It wasn’t the same when the other men of The Twenty were with him, after all. EVERYONE was huge, after all. He may be a little bigger, a little better, a little younger, a little more hung – but it was a close call for this group of unfucking godly superhero X-Men, or whatever they all were supposed to be. His veins may be like rivers, but so were Schumacher’s. His biceps may peak at 25 or 26 inches, but so did Gunst’s. And his dick might be 12 or 14 inches or whatever it was, but Moster’s was a fucking cannon that could probably shoot unfucking godly amounts of cumspray, he didn’t know, since the man didn’t choose to empty his load on him yet – or anyone. Casey pondered a bit. How exactly did Moster get off, anyway? He put it out of his head. He was gonna visit his muscle planet tonight. That much he knew. Soon he was asleep. He drifted off and thought about flexing his muscles for a sea of admiring multitudes, high on a magic mountain, far, far away. **** Four hours later, they arrived in Santa Monica. The men, having made their appointments, had fitfully slept through most of the trip in their individual over-sized seats. After checking into a discreet private hotel – Dr. Irving with his clipboard in the lobby, making sure to lose no one to wandering among the canals of Venice – it was a quiet side-street hotel filled with oversized rooms, well set back from the boardwalk - they were off to the gym. The men trained quickly and discreetly, fully covered, at Gold’s Gym Venice Beach, privately booked by Valhalla, and paid for in cash. Quickly exploding every muscle group, the men spread out and pumped up, finally blasting a few quick deep 600 pound squats, 300 pound curls, bench presses, delt raises, and working glutes, glutes, glutes. Afterwards, Moster treated them all to a fast high-protein and high-animal fat meal at The Fire House, where the muscle monsters dominated the terrace, ignoring the crowd stares. “Who the fuck are those dudes?” wondered one unusually stupid huge national competitor from a nearby table. “I don’t know,” answered his muscle john, an elderly queen taking his big boy out to lunch. “I never been onstage with them before. Hey, where ya goin’?” “I just wanted to…” “You stay with me, baby. You lookin’ for a knuckle sandwich? I’m the dude you’re payin’ to get big. You go over there, you messing with me.” “Okay, okay…” “You wanna keep all your teeth, dude,” he warned, but looked enviously over at the huge men, sitting at four tables stacked together. Who are those guys? he wondered. Shit. Look at the size of them. Shit. Other muscle schmoes gazed longingly at the tables filled with the huge musclemen, bulging out of their clothes, none of them known, none of them ever having competed before on the national stages, and wondered, and dreamed. One muscle daddy competitor thought he recognized Moster from years back, but promptly dismissed it. Couldn’t be. That black fucker there looks about 30. Rod Moster would be near to 50 by now. Impossible. Impossible. The Fire House fell into unaccustomed silence as the eleven muscle strangers ate. Casey was aware of all the covert attention, but toed the company line, looking at no one and saying nothing. Still, he ached inwardly to be seen, to be admired, to be looked at, gazed at, touched, stroked, wondered over, worshipped. Alvarez, munching his 4th ostrich burger, gazed around the room. Lotsa possibilities here. He glanced at Lang, chowing down on a steak, unaware of anything but his food and his burning muscles. Hension winked at a beautiful fitness girl at a nearby table, who smiled back. “Wanna slap me?” he mouthed silently to her, pointing to one of his scruffy cheeks as he happily chewed his buffalo burger. She looked back at him puzzled. “What?” she mouthed back. “Slap my face?” he mouthed again. “What did he say?” asked her friend. “I’m not sure but I think he wants me to slap him.” “Whatever. I’d do it,” said her girlfriend. She glanced over. Then stared. “Fuck me, is he gorgeous,” she added. “That’s about the prettiest face I have ever seen on a man.” Hension smiled and rapidly beat his tongue against his teeth, grinning hugely, pointing to both cheeks, gestured ‘call me’. The girls just stared. “Is he dumb or something?” one of them wondered. Moster barked at him. “Hension, pay attention to your meal.” Hension returned his gaze to his plate. Jeez, he thought. Pretty girls everywhere. How can I meet one? Still, he had high hopes for his online mistress. After paying up ($1,050 for lunch for 12) they returned to their hotel resting for forty minutes. They had strict orders not to play. Or cum. Or else. “Departure at 8:30 PM,” barked Moster as they got off the bus. “Dress in regulation tan slacks and t-shirts. Super-support double mesh posing trunks underneath. Clean yourselves thoroughly. Personal cleaning. I will be checking. Then get some rest. White caps at 8:15. You men have a long night ahead.” ****** The bus pulled up the drive at 9 PM. It was a large cliffside home high in the Hollywood Hills, lavish and dark, with a glimmering pool in the back and fountains quietly spraying gallons of illegal water. Beyond, the glittering lights of LA shone in the far distance. The first stop of the evening. Zaftig’s longtime off campus associate, the puny weasel Dr. Shaft, was waiting inside, in attendance with a group of 9 investors, all quite anxious to see the young gods in action. The men filed off the bus. “Golly, who lives here?” asked Hension, awestruck by the size of the place. “Some movie producer,” murmured Lang. Casey barely noticed. He was headed off soon to his private muscle planet, and was all ready to flex. Moster, who had gotten off the bus first, quietly barked orders in the large circular drive. “Inspection. Strip down, men,” he commanded. “I don’t want to keep our hosts waiting.” The ten musclemen hopped and danced in the half light, removing slacks, baggies, t-shirts, jeans, shorts, underwear, jock straps, thongs, and boots as poor long-suffering Dr. Irving ran from man to man, frantically gathering up discarded clothing, quickly organizing as to owner, and distributing the proper poser to the proper man. Each poser was personally assigned, custom-tailored to cut across inches south of the lower abs, reveal generous slices of meaty glutes in back, and with frontal sag sufficient to generously reveal the top six inches of root and thick, plunging shaft of each man. The side straps, while thin, were sufficiently strong to hold even at top erection. “Oil up, men.” Bottles of mineral oil were passed around, and the men dutifully applied slathers of oil to their muscles. Finally they were ready, their muscles gleaming in the night. “Line up, squad,” said Moster. “Adjust your posers. When you pull your pants down, I want these dudes to see your top six inches of root and cockshaft.” He had stripped down himself and was now rubbing his own oil in to his mountainous black muscles. “I know with some of you that still leaves another 6 inches or more covered up. Right, Casey?” “More,” said Casey. Still, in the dark Casey turned deep red, still immediately shamed by the thoughts of his huge, unhideable cock. He still wasn’t quite over those years of taunting. Which always flashed his thoughts quickly to Tiffany. Good thing the ginger-haired terror wasn’t with them tonight. Casey always performed better when that boy was nowhere near. “Waring, get over here and do my back.” Waring went to Moster, dutifully pouring oil onto his calloused palms, mixing them back and forth as if he was tossing a muscle salad, and smacked Moster’s broad back hard, rubbing thick oil deep into Moster’s wide lats. The Sergeant felt the man’s rough blisters on his back and smiled. “You’ve been working, Private.” “Yes, sir, I sure have, sir.” The men fell into line, and awaited inspection. Moster paced in front of the muscle lineup and critically appraised his special forces team: Alvarez, Lang, Hension, Schumacher, and Waring. Washington, Abdul, Obatu, Gunst and Rockland. Muscle gods all. He nodded his satisfaction. “Line up according to height. Shortest man first. Private Hension, that’s you.” Hension was pushed to the head of the line. “Put the pretty boy first,” guffawed Obatu. Hension colored deeply, embarrassed as always to be referred to as the group ‘pretty boy’, but obeyed orders. “Dr. Irving, distribute White Caps,” Moster ordered. Irving passed the ration of capsules to the group. “It’s going that be that kind of showing, hunh?” chuckled Obatu. He popped a capsule and within seconds began to envision his powerful sexual fantasies come to life. He tugged slightly on his poser and glanced down to make sure the prominent, pulsing thick veins of his mighty dipping cockshaft were showing. He nudged Washington. “Check it out,” he said. Washington nodded. “Suckable,” he said, busily squeezing his own nipples into pointy hardness. Moster crossed behind the men and walked along, surveyed the lineup of rolling, hard, powerful glutes. He nodded. Huge mountains of gleaming, perfect, rock hard butt. “Butthole inspection,” he announced. Corporal Karim wished he had his butt plug with him, but didn’t betray himself with even a flicker across his stern face. He scowled, but even so Moster knew what the man wanted. He glanced down at Karim’s achingly firm glutes. “You clean, Corporal?” he asked. “Yes, sir.” “Good.” Moster knelt, lowered the man’s posers for a moment to quad height, and quickly inserted his thick fist deeply up inside the man’s butthole, up to his wrist. Karim never flinched. Moster rotated his fist, and just as quickly withdrew, with a butthole POP!, noting to his satisfaction that the Corporal was indeed clean. “Keep your concentration.” He wiped his fist with anti-bacterial lube and moved on to the next man. Hension was looking apprehensive. Moster approached him. “Any women inside?” Hension asked nervously. “Why do you ask, Private?” “Sir, for my best performance, sir, I like to get my face slapped first. And during. By a pretty girl with muscles.” “Not here tonight,” said Moster. “Bend over.” “Yes, sir!” Hension bent over, showing his twin glutes of extreme hardness, shape and striation. Moster lowered the muscleboy’s posers, made a fist, and once again plunged his fist up to his wrist up Hension’s taut butthole, twisting, probing and turning. Like Abdul, Hension never even raised an eyebrow as his welcoming rosebud enveloped the powerful fist. He was excited about lay ahead. His cock began its 12-inch journey to solid stiffness. He pulled his posers back up with some difficulty and wrapped the taut cloth as best he could around his growing engine. Alvarez appeared serene. He knew a good Pose and Approve session was ahead. Lang glanced at him and smiled. Alvarez was best with an audience. An admiring audience. His cock twitched in anticipation. Moster was quick with Alvarez, nodding approval, quickly inserting a probing fist, and moving on to Lang, doing the same. Up the drive at the house, a curtain fluttered. Someone was watching. Alvarez nudged Lang. “What?” asked Lang, clueless. “You see that?” “See what?” Alvarez smiled. “This is gonna be fun.” He stood “Let’s see those biceps, Gunst,” Moster commanded. Gunst complied, and flexed his meaty guns. “26 inches this morning, sir.” “Excellent. Turn around and bend over.” Gunst complied and Moster’s fist entered his butthole. He nodded satisfaction. Moster continued down the line of musclemen, inspecting pecs, nipples, hard abs, and ending with each man by inserting a giant fist up an eager butthole. Finally it was Casey’s turn. “Ever been fisted before?” Moster asked crisply. Casey had to admit it. “Yes, sir.” He turned around and bent over, his perfect butt now in Moster’s face, his fists buried in his obliques, jutting out his butt. It was an incredible ass. Two round globes of muscular golden flesh, perfect, hard-as-nails ovals of sleek construction. Powerful, huge, an incredible human loading dock of rounded power. Inside the darkened buttcrack Moster could see close-up the throbbing, inviting deep of Casey’s perfect butthole. Moster plunged his fist in, and turned it, pulling it out again after a minute. Clean as a whistle. “Good work, Rockland. “ Casey stood, turned and smiled. “I think you’re ready.” He turned to the driver, standing by the bus, impassively staring. “Ferdinand, Dr. Irving, come back in an hour. We should be done by then.” Then, quietly, he asked Irving, “Did the money come in yet?” “This afternoon, sir,” answered Irving. “$35,000.” “Good.” Moster took his place at the end of the line. “Shaft here yet?” “Inside, Sir.” Dr. Irving fiddled with his phone, getting frantic texts from Dr. Shaft. “Good. Give the men back their clothes. Men, get dressed.” Much fumbling and hopping about in the dark. Then- “Move out, men.” The musclemen marched into the entranceway of the one-story cliffside glass house and, single file, marched into the brightly lit living room. Inside now. Nine manicured, pampered, plumpish Hollywood movie execs, dressed in expensive Italian suits, ties down, were draped around the room, propped up on large plush sofas, drinks in hand, cellphones and Blackberries at the ready, waiting inside. Two or three were handsome enough to gain Alvarez’s slight interest. The smell of marijuana wafted through the air. They’d been drinking. And smoking. And snorting lines of coke. In fact, they were all smashed. And ready. “Fucking finally! Bring on the talent!” one of them yelled as the men entered. But as the musclemen got into the room and turned, facing their clients, at full attention, the movie dudes were stunned into silence. The musclemen were themselves stunned into a moment silence by the lavishness of the room that spread out before them, and the extraordinary view of the city through the plate glass windows, far, far below. The drapes had been opened. The moon shone full in the sky. “Wow,” breathed Lang. Dr. Shaft rose from a white sofa. On one side of him sat three overweight, bespectacled jowly men, and on the other, a young twenty-something nerd with a pretty face, scruffy hair, in an Iggy Pop t-shirt and too tight ripped jeans. Next to him was another squirrely looking guy, equally skinny and pale. “Good evening, Sergeant Moster. Good evening, men.” “Good evening, Dr. Shaft. Men, you all know Dr. Shaft.” Hi, yeah, sure, hello, uh hunh, yeah we see him, etc etc, came from the men. “May I introduce you to your hosts?” asked Dr. Shaft. And the lineup of musclemen turned to their seated, agog clients. Their hands at their sides, fists clenched, veins popping, tight white shirts wrapped around massive physiques. Legs spread wide. Quads bursting out of slacks. Biceps about to tear shirt sleeves. Fly bulges loomed to the floor. And the clients, schmoes all, stared back. Breathing. Panting. “Fuck, man. They’re fucking huge,” said the skinny nerd. He gulped. “Whatta they gonna do to us?” “You mean…what are they going to do for you,” said Sergeant Moster.”May I present…. nine of the most muscular men on the planet today.” He paused, glanced at his watch. “You have one hour.” He turned to the men. “Men, you may go to work.”

Hey all, this is a story I wrote and posted ages ago. Perhaps it's worth a second life. Sunday. Not just a Sunday, but the last Sunday of the month which meant party time for many guys. Cafe the “Golden Fish”, located in a small alley near the city’s shopping center, and tonights place-to-be, had been turned into an enjoyable dancing. The “Golden Fish” was not the only cafe at the ally. There even was a video shop and a bookstore. And next to this bookstore, at the end of the alley, there was a small pub. The “Pink Wonder” was 21 year old David’s favorite pub. He spent four evenings a week there, talking to his friends and drinking beer or mixed drinks, depending on his financial situation. This evening, most of his friends had come to the pub. They drinked and laughed while the minutes pasted by and David draw attention to the fact it was already 21.45 Slowly they took their jackets and coats, kissed some other friends goodbye and left the pub for a pleasant night at the Disco Party in the ‘Golden Fish”. During the walk, David couldn’t resist dreaming about the guy he saw there the previous months. He didn’t know his name, nor he knew where the guy lived. The only thing David certainly knew about the guy was what his own eyes had told him. A dark skin, very short hair, a broad nose and two big lips. It seemed the guy doesn’t had a neck and although he wore wide shirts with the logo of the cafe, his black body looked well build. His hands where large and so was his butt, stretching the thight jeans to the max. David estimated the guy to be 25 years old, 6” long and about 198 pounds. In a flash David remembered the day after the last Disco Party. He was at home, his parents were shopping, and he was surfing on the internet. Suddenly a screen had popped-up with a special offer for muscle growth pills. He’d bought one, that would be enough to grow beyond imagination, according to the site. Strange thing was, that he couldn’t find that site again, a few days later. It was still very quiet at the party. Only a few other guys where doing their things on the dancefloor, and while the dj played some popular music, David was looking for his guy. Ah, there he was, behind the bar, cleaning some glasses. A little nervous David felt with his hands in his pockets, looking for the little, purple pill. He sighted when he found it. One and a half hours later the cafe was filled with dancing boys of all ages. With a smile on his face David watched over them, and found the dark guy in a corner of the building, picking up some empty glasses to clean them at the bar. This was the moment David had been waiting for. He slipped throug the crowds to the bar, where the dark guy has left his drink. The bartenders were too busy serving the large amounts of people to watch over the glass of coke, so it wasn’t too hard for David to put the pill in the drink without being seen. Slowly he walked back to the place he stood before and waited with excitement till the guy would drank his drink. Fortunately, he didn’t had to wait too long. The dark guy came back with some empty glasses, cleaned them and drank his coke. According to the instructions he got with the pill, it would take a few hours till that little, purple thing starts to work, so David went to his dancing friends and took a nip of his beer. Two o’clock. The party was almost over. The last guys where leaving the building. Davids friends took their jackets back from the secured wardrobe and pushed him to go with them, but David found an excuse not to go with them and kissed them goodbye. When his friends left David slowly walked to the wardrobe, took his jack (also very slowly) and took it on (very, very slowly). ‘When is that pill doing its work?’ he thought. ‘I really have to go now.’ He turned to a small poster. ‘Do you mind if I go home now?, said a deep voice. From a corner of his eye David looked at the bar. ‘What’s wrong?’ one of the bartenders asked. ‘I don’t feel that good,’ was the answer. ‘I feel sick.’ The dark guy rubbed his stomach. ‘Is everthing ok Brian?’ one of the bartenders asked worried. Brian said nothing, but burbed loudly. His face showed he was in pain. Another burp. ‘Go home,’ one of the bartenders said. ‘We will finish it here.’ It was clear Brian found troubles moving his body. ‘Can I help?’ David asked. ‘I... I have to ... get... home,’ Brian said. ‘Where do you live?’ David asked. No answer came. David looked up, to the bartenders. ‘I have a car. If you’ll tell me where he lives, I can take him there. ‘I don’t think it’s wise to leave him all by himself’. Another loud burp escaped from Brian’s mouth. He was shaking a little. ‘At the other side of the city,’ one of the bartenders said. ‘In an appartment next to the firestation.’ ‘I know that place,’ David said. ‘Come Brian. I’ll take u home.’ David helped Brian in his jacket and supported him to his car. Fiftheen minutes later they arrived at Brian’s appartment. Again, David supported the dark guy to his front door. Brian felt heavier then before. And harder. In the living Brian felt on his couch. Large beads of sweat slid down his face and his breathing became heavier. Suddenly he grabbed his stomach, as if he felt a terrible pain. Again Brian let out a loud burp while a thick vein became visible on his growing traps. He screamed while his wide shirt filled itself with his own body. Suddenly, the growth stopped. Brian sighted and looked at David, who was in awe and trying to believe what just happened. Both guys said nothing for almost an hour they were staring at each other. Brian, now the size of a small professional bodybuilder, seemed to say help me, but David, exactly knowing what was going on could think of only one thing; more! ‘I believe...’Brian suddenly said. ‘I believe... it.. is ...happening again!’ David jumped of his chair of excitement when he saw the black guy shaking. ‘Help...me!’ Brian screamed with a low voice. His shirt was wet of all the sweat. Again he grabbed his stomach. Davids eyes grew large when he saw the wide shirt inflating, like a balloon. The fabric stretched to the max, but could barely hold the mass in it. The jeans became more tight with the second, eventually they lost it from the growing leg and butt muscles. With a loud tearing sound, Brian burst out of the fabric, revealing his massive, veiny legs and some of his round, black ass. Again, the growth stopped suddenly and the guy burped loud. ‘What is happening man?’ he shouted afraid. David said nothing. ‘I am bigger than Mr. O in the off-season.’ Amazed David looked at the enormous pecs which were pressing the shirt to the limits. ‘Are...are you alright?’ he asked with a soft voice. ‘No, I am not,’ Brian shouted. ‘I want to know what’s happening to me.’ ‘I...I put something in your drink,’ David mumbled. Brian looked at him. ‘What have you done?’ ‘I...put a little pill in your coke,’ was the answer. ‘You little bastard,’ the black boy screamed. He jumped of the couch, flexing his muscles so hard, his shirt gave way, showing his body. The pecs were like balloons; large and inflated, leaving his small, black nipples pressed to the side of his chest. Abs the size of a man’s fist, and mighty lats, arching the upper arms to the side. The pumped shoulders made him look wide, almost as wide as the doorway. David ran to the kitchen, followed by the muscle monster. He was breathing loudly, carrying all of his new weight. With a scream, David fled to the bedroom and turned back. Brian ran into the room. His pecs bounced heavily. Brian was not as fast as he used to be. His body was to heavy and his legs to big. Nervously David searched for an exit, unfortunately for him, he was trapped between a window, and the biggest and angriest guy he had ever seen. The choice was easy. Swiftly David opened the window and jumped to the balcony. Brian found out he was too big to follow him and waddled back to the living, from where he could enter the balcony via the back door. David was shocked by this experience and rested on the balcony floor. He was ready to flee again when he saw Brian opening the backdoor, but suddenly he grabbed his stomach again. ‘Not again,’ David thought. ‘What have I done?’ He smiled. ‘I’m creating my fantasy man, is that so wrong?’ Slowly he walked to the large living room window, to see what was going on. Brian staggered to the couch and with a loud burp, he fell in it. His body started shaking and large drops of sweat made his big body look like a balloon. His pecs started swelling. Brian screamed when they reached the size of beach balls. His skin was painfully stretched now. His nipples pressed outwards, looking they’re ready to burst out of his chest. Brian had to lay down to compensate the weight of those inflated pieces of meat. Uncomfortably he was trying to balance his growing body, so he wouldn’t fell of the couch, but with his back, growing thicker and thicker it became very difficult. His shoulders grew as wide as the couch itself and his arms, pumped by the blood from veins as thick as pencils blew up to the size of bowling balls. His ass became rounder and bigger than the biggest beach ball filled the couch and made it hard to sit easy. David saw how the growth stopped. It looked like Brian wasn’t able to get out of the couch. How big would he be? ‘Hey Brian, got to big?’ David shouted from outside, teasing the big boy. ‘In my opinion, of course, there ain’t no such thing as to big. Unfortunately, not everyone shares that opinion.’ David laughed. He walked through the open backdoor. ‘Wow, you’re way to big man!’ David said when closed in on the black guy. Slowly Brian turned his head a little, his traps where too big to turn his head all the way. ‘You f***cking asshole,’ Brian shouted. With shocks he tried to hop of the couch, as he couldn’t bend his legs anymore. The couch creaked under his weight. David smiled of excitement, seeing that big guy having so much difficulties getting out of a couch. After a while, Brian managed to get himself up. Slowly, with heavy steps, he waddled to David, flexing every muscle in his body with each step, to keep his balance. Of course, David was way faster. He planned to stay in the living, in case another growth spurt will take place, though he did not expect that seen the size of Brian. David looked at Brian, still attempting to catch him. The massive pecs bounced wildly, bringing the boy out of balance so he had to take a break after every step. His huge arms swung mighty, resting on his lats, growing to the back, the side and to the front, pressing his arms into an almost horizontal position. His abs where so big now, it was impossible for Brian to bend forward and his legs where twice as big as an average men’s waist. But then it began again. The pain in his stomach, only he couldn’t grab it anymore. The shaking of his body, which looked pretty frightening, with all those slabs of muscle. Hasty he waddled back to the couch and started growing again. He was screaming like hell. David had never heard someone screaming that loud. What if the neighbors hear it. They’ll rang and find out what is happening here. Or maybe they’re not at home. He stared back at Brian. He looked incredibly bloated now. His body all wet, his skin stretching like a balloon with to much air. ‘Is ok? Haven’t I gone to far?’ David questioned himself. ‘What if this turns out wrong?’ He looked at Brian again and saw how his big lips disappeared behind the monstrous pecs. More veins appeared, containing blood which forced the muscles to grow beyond all limits. Brian screamed again. The couch bend under his weight. ‘I...I can’t.....breath! To...big, to...heavy.’ His back grew so thick he was almost pushed from the couch. The shoulders where so wide, it was impossible to leave the house without breaking a wall. His biceps were twice as big as his head and the triceps even bigger. The size of his legs and calves made it impossible to walk. David heard something cracking. In the first place he looked at the couch, but as a wonder it seems to hold Bryan’s weight. ‘Ahhh...help...me!’ Brian shouted. David became frightened when he realized the cracking sound where Brian’s bones, crushed by the size of the huge muscles, which were fighting for space to grow even more. With a burp, the growth stopped. ‘I...I can’t...breath. Help me man!’ The only thing the giant could move now where his feet and his hands. He had become immobile, sitting there at the couch as an enormous, heavy balloon. The skin was so stretched, David didn’t dare to touch him. But he wanted it so badly. This was the body he has always dreamt of. ‘In the...bath...room are...some tubes...of...cream.’ Brian said, taking deep breaths. ‘Get...those for...me...please. Put the cream...on...my body...man. Maybe...they’ll make...my skin more ela....stick.’ David ran to the bathroom and got the tubes Brian asked for. Rapidly he emptied all the tubes on the black body and rubbed it on Brian’s skin. ‘You know,’ David said ‘maybe you don’t want to hear this but I get really turned on doing this.’ ‘I can’t... hit you any...more, so you can...say what...you want now.’ David smiled. ‘I feel an...other spurt coming...up,’ Brian said. ‘Another one!’ was David’s shocked reaction. ‘But that’s impossible!’ ‘Make...some...room...for...me!’ The massive body was shaking in all directions while the muscles grew again. David quickly took a few steps backwards. He stumbled over the chair he sat on earlier this night en fell on the floor. He hurt his ankle painfully en saw Brian ballooning up even more from the ground. The bench broke under the enormous weight, and with a loud bang also Brian fell on the ground. His calves where so fat that is feet rose about a meter from the floor. David heard the irritating, cracking sound again. ‘My...bones...are...getting...crushed!,’ Brian screamed. ‘I am...gonna...blow!’ David closed his eyes. ‘Is this the end? Have I actually killed someone?’ Suddenly it became silent in the room. David opened his eyes again. There was no boom or splash as he expected. A bit of blood was dropping down his left leg. Slowly because of his hurt ankle, David walked around the big body, looking for a head. He found it between two large boulder like shoulders, almost hidden under two incredibly inflated pecs. ‘Are...are you ok?’ David asked softly. A burp. ‘Yeah, I...think...so,’ Brian answered. ‘Man...I’m...huge. What...do...I’ve...to...do...now?’ ‘I can take care of you, if you still want me that is.’ David said hopefully. Brian laughed softly. ‘You...can...help...me...till...I...can...move...a gain.’ ‘I really like you’ ‘Yeah, I...know that...by now. Let...me sleep…now. I’m...tired and when...another growth...spurt hits...me I...don’t...wanna feel...it.’ The next day Brian woke up late in the evening. David had bought him lots of food and took care of him very well. ‘Oh man,’ Brian said during dinner. ‘That was a fantastic ride yesterday, when will we do it again?’ David stared at Brian in shock. ‘You can’t be serious.’ ‘I certainly am my little pill man.’ Both started laughing. ‘Come here sweet. I wish I could kiss you with my lips, but as you can see there’s a little too much chest in front of it.’ David kissed the wide, black chest. ‘Don’t touch my nipples man. They really are over sensitive. I’m sure my pecs will blow out if I flex them now.’ David kissed him on his forehead. ‘When you’ll give me another one of your pills?’ Brian asked. ‘I can’t. I don’t have any I mean, and the site I bought them from is gone.’ ‘Hmmm...’ disappointed Brian turned his head from the food.’ After a few weeks, Brian and his skin got used to all the muscle, so he could move bit by bit. The first day he stood in front of a mirror the dark boy was shocked. His body was too big to walk through doorways, so David had placed his bed in the living, together with a computer and a bookcase. Brian preferred to sleep on the floor, as his back was thick enough to cover him from the cold. From behind the computer David looked at his lover. He was sleeping now. David smiled while he listened to the snoring sounds and was surprised when a ping got his attention. He stared at his computer, which had opened a pop up screen; an advertisement for a little, purple pill...