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Despite feeling invigorated from his visit with Dr. Darkori the first time, Brice Hanley has returned to having energy problems like before. It has been close to six months since his last visit with the gorgeous red doctor and was hoping to hear from his office again, but has yet to do so. As a result of his low energy yet again, he returns to see his primary physician Dr. Orleans. The handsome doctor greets him once he enters the lobby which seems really strange to Brice. ‘So you are having the same problem as before?’ he says with a concerned look at his face. ‘I want you to follow me into my office.’ Brice stays behind him and smiles as he stares at the sexy doctor’s wide back and even mumbles under his breath. The doctor directs him inside and closes the door. Brice sits in one of the leather chairs in front of Dr. Orleans desk as the hunky doctor sits in his chair. He opens up the energy deprived man’s file and has an interesting look on his face. ‘I am actually one of Damien’s close friends,’ Dr. Orleans says to Brice. ‘We met several years ago and he gave me a few solutions to problems that I have. I used to have a lot of pain in my head, but Damien made a serum specifically designed for me. It takes quite a bit of time to do because he has to make it just right or it won’t be successful.’ Brice constantly stares at Orleans huge arms and wants to ask him about them. ‘How did you get your arms to look like that?’ he asks. ‘Ohh, good question,’ Orleans flexes his biceps as they become engorged with blood and swell to make the veins and vessels look like nets. ‘His serum actually boosts the body’s testosterone level so I was able to lift heavier and grow much quicker. Now I can’t cure your problem, but I can give you a temporary fix to your problem.’ Brice seems quite interested in what he means by this. ‘So…..what is the temporary fix then?’ Dr. Orleans gets up to close his blinds and lock his door. ‘Call me Devin by the way, I feel as if we are going to be friends after this.’ Orleans takes his jacket and shirt off and reveals his thick muscled hairy chest as he pulls his loafers and unzips his dress slacks as his big cock flops out as he slides them down and off of him. ‘WHAT IS THIS?’ Brice yells out. ‘This is my solution Brice to your problem. I can’t supply what Damien supplies, but I can certainly make you feel well for at least the time being.’ He walks over to the deprived man and sits his cock on his shoulder. Brice’s eyes get huge and seem almost embarrassed that he had a major crush on Devin for so long. ‘Don’t be afraid to touch me Brice, I am willing to give you the nourishment you deserve.’ Brice takes his right hand and slowly starts stroking Devin’s cock as he moans. ‘Damn, that feels good man. It has definitely been a while since I have relieved myself. Go ahead and put it in your mouth.’ Brice turns his head and slowly starts swallowing the doctor’s thick rod. He tastes the sweet juices that have started to ooze from the piss slit and begins to suck harder. ‘MMMMM feels good Brice, feels really good. I don’t want you to stop okay, just keep going and drink whatever comes out.’ Brice moans loudly as he moves faster and faster making the doctor rub his own body and moan himself. The tired patient rubs the doctor’s balls and feels how full they are as he explores Devin’s body feeling his tight abs, back, legs, and pecs. He squeezes the doctor’s gorgeous hairy pecs and pinches his nipples for him. Devin rubs Brice’s head as he gets him closer to the edge. ‘That’s it a bit more man and you will have your medicine…..GOOD MAN…..OH YEAH GOOD MAN!’ Brice feels it moving up into the cock as it begins to contract and squirts jet after jet of thick cum down his throat. He moans in ecstasy as he continues to drain the doctor of his spunk. ‘YEAH KEEP GOING BRICE, THERE IS MORE IN THERE.’ Brice feels more cum moving up into Devin’s cock as it starts shooting more cum down his throat. He shutters as it starts to fill up his belly. ‘Okay okay, that is enough man. I think you drained me dry now.’ Brice feels insanely horny now and wants to fuck the doctor so he pulls his shirt off and undoes his jeans to pull them down. ‘What are you doing Brice?’ Devin says. ‘I have to fuck you Devin, I don’t have a choice, I am compelled to fuck you.’ The doctor smiles at him and goes to lean over his desk awaiting Brice’s hard dick. Brice gets up and pulls his underwear off to shove his cock up inside the doctor. Orleans moans as Brice feels more energized now than before and thrusts in and out of him. The doctor moans a little louder as Brice feels his cum starting to build inside his balls. ‘Feels great Brice, fill me up if you want man,’ the doctor says as he is being shook. ‘Uhh here it comes doctor Orleans…..’ The spry patient thrusts every time he shoots a rope inside the doctor and moans. Devin laughs a little as he feels it moving up into his intestines. Brice slaps his ass a few times making his bubble butt shine in the light bright red. He pulls out of him not long after he stops cumming and sits in the leather chair again. Doctor Orleans sighs and goes to put his clothes back on. He sits down in his chair again and puts his arms on his desk. ‘Well, that was refreshing Brice,’ he says with his arms. ‘I think I am done with you at this point, I will give Doctor Darkori’s office a call and see if they can speed this process along.’ ‘Thank you so much doctor for your help, I feel a lot better now.’ Brice gets up to put his clothes back on and opens the office door. Devin’s nurses and patients in the lobby stare at Brice as he walks out of the office, all sweaty and red from the sex. He smiles as he gets into his car and goes back to his house. He goes back inside and his landline phone rings. He picks it up and the receptionist at Darkori’s office tells him that the doctor is ready to speak to him. Brice hangs up and gets back into his car to drive over to Darkori’s office. He walks in and the receptionist tells him to go ahead and go on back that the doctor will be waiting for him in the hall. As he enters, he sees the muscular red skin that he so wanted to touch again near the end of the hall. Halfway down, the doctor turns and gives Brice a big smile. His white teeth shine as his groomed beard and brown eyes make Brice swoon just a touch. The doctor puts his hand out to shake Brice’s. ‘Hello again Brice, nice to see you,’ he says as he puts his hand on Brice’s shoulder and leads him into an exam room. ‘Have a seat buddy so I can talk to you.’ Brice sits on the exam table like before and wonders if he will have a similar experience as before. ‘I know what you are thinking Brice, but this time will be different. I can sense that you have already had sex today.’ Brice looks down at his body and wonders how the doctor knows this. ‘I can actually smell it on you…..so Devin let you have some of his cum, hehe I am not surprised that happened.’ Brice starts asking Damien questions about why he has red skin and Doctor Orleans has regular skin, but has healing properties. ‘Well, Doctor Orleans had health problems too so I concocted a formula for him and now he is healthy. His cum is pretty potent I have to say, at least for the type of guy he is.’ ‘But why do you have red skin? I just want to know.’ Damien stands to lift his undershirt and walks over to Brice to let him feel his chest. ‘Just touch and feel my skin Brice.’ Brice puts his hand out and feels the texture and how different it is from his own. ‘You have no hair follicles on your body do you doctor? Well on your face, but that is strange.’ ‘It is true it is strange, but I am from a foreign place too.’ Brice seems genuinely intrigued by him. The doctor tells him he will be back in a minute to retrieve something. When he returns, he is not alone as a huge red-skinned man comes in with him. Brice stares at the hulking brute as he stands in the doorway. Damien smiles and puts a jar on the countertop behind him. ‘Brice let me introduce you to my brother Cain. He is also a doctor.’ Brice barely says anything as the massive man in front of him walks forward to shake his hand. ‘Hello Brice, glad to meet you. I know my appearance is shocking, but Damien invited me in today to work with you.’ Brice says softly, ‘to work with me……how?’ ‘Well, we worked together on that jar over there and finally came up with the right combination for your body. We just need to put a little bit more into it to make it strong enough to keep you healthy from now on,’ Cain calmly says. ‘So what you are saying is…..wait…..oh gawd…..really?’ Brice realizes that they mean more cum and whose are they referring to? ‘So what do I do doctors? Do I have to service one of you or what?’ Both Damien and Cain smile and drop their pants at the same time as their throbbing red cocks start dribbling precum. They both say, ‘both of us’ at the same time. The two red skinned doctors move closer in to where Brice is sitting as he has two huge cocks in his face and starts to slowly stroke them. ‘Am I going to regret this since I know what happened to you last time Damien?’ Brice says with anxiety. ‘No, should be alright this time man, at least I hope it is.’ Brice looks up at him with a worried look on his face as he continues to stroke them slowly. Cain puts his hand on Brice’s shoulder as he is being stroked and starts to growl lowly under his breath. Brice catches his thick pre and moans really loud. ‘OH GAWD THIS TASTES INCREDIBLE.’ He speeds up on Cain working him over and over trying to get him to feed him. ‘YEAH BUDDY, YOU WILL GET YOUR REWARD, OPEN WIDE!’ He sprays Brice’s throat with his solid cum and nearly knocks him back. Brice starts to shake wildly after consuming it. The Darkori’s wonder if this was such a good decision, but Brice stops shaking after a few seconds. He gets back up and smiles. ‘MMMMM it was so good doctor, you made me lose consciousness.’ Cain smiles and puts his hand on his brother’s shoulder. Brice works Damien over now making him start to buckle a bit. Cain tries to make Damien control his urges by talking to him. ‘Don’t let it take you over brother, I know you can control it.’ Damien starts to sweat like he did before, but Cain tries to distract him to keep him from ‘changing’. Brice can feel Damien’s load building as it starts to flow up into his cock. Damien yells as Cain wraps his arms around his waist to keep him from giving in to his need to grow. He shoots a massive load down Brice’s throat making the red doctor shake in agony as he feels a surge flowing through him. Brice finishes drinking his load and moves out of the way as Cain yanks Damien away to sit him in a chair. He can see that this may end up being troublesome and tells Brice to leave the room while he tries to calm his brother down. Brice rushes down the hall as he hears Cain yelling at Damien telling him to calm down and to not let the urges try to control him like they did with him. Brice seems intrigued that Cain would say something like this and realizes that Cain went through the same process and was permanently stuck in this giant unnatural looking body. After about five minutes, Brice is called back into the room as the two doctors sit across from each other. Cain has to sit in two chairs considering how huge he is. Damien is breathing extremely heavy and obviously was going through some growth spurt as his undershirt is ripped open and his lab coat has seams busted in it. Cain smiles and says that everything will be fine for now and that they need him to bust a load into the jar since he has both of their loads inside him. His mixed together with theirs will complete the serum and they can move forward with it. ‘So all I have to do is cum into that jar and you can complete the serum for me?’ Brice says to Cain. ‘Yes sir that is it. We would have it ready for you before you leave today.’ ‘Ummmm okay, I suppose I should get to it then.’ Brice undoes his pants and pulls his undies off to start jerking his cock as Cain puts the jar below him on the floor. As the white patient continues to jerk his cock, Cain lifts the lid and the contents begin to start swirling making Brice very nervous. ‘What the hell is going on……why is it moving like that?’ Cain tells him to relax and just continue. As he gets closer to cumming, the mixture begins to move up the jar closer to the opening. Brice begins to feel a strange aura around him as he continues to jerk off, he can’t seem to stop now as if he is being forced to continue. ‘YES CUM BRICE LET IT COME TO YOU!’ Cain seems to be summoning the mixture to the surface now. Brice begins yelling as he feels his cum pouring out of the piss slit. The mixture in the jar flies into the air and collides with his cum as it pushes its way into his cock. He screams in agony as the huge amount of liquid forces its way inside him. Cain laughs as Damien seems to be sweating again. Brice nearly loses consciousness as the mixture moves its way throughout his body. Cain walks over to him on the exam table and picks him up. He carries him into an area that hasn’t been seen before as Brice barely sees anything as his body is too tired to even react. Cain puts him in a holding cell and closes the door behind him. Brice finally passes out as his body begins to change on the inside.

‘Damnit, not again,’ Brice grudgingly says as he wakes up late yet again after sleeping through his alarm. Getting ready for work has become a bit of a nightmare lately as his energy level has dropped off unexpectedly. He rushes into the bathroom and looks at his tired face staring at the dark circles under his eyes and wonders what could be causing this. He quickly brushes his teeth before going to put on his outfit to leave for his job in the factory. He tells himself that he needs to go see someone about this problem and contacts a good friend who knows of a particular doctor that can help him. He recommends a specialist, but says that Brice needs to see his regular doctor first to get a referral. After working the afternoon shift, Brice manages to get an appointment with his primary physician that same day. His doctor is a brawny guy who obviously has found time to get to the gym when he isn’t practicing medicine. Brice has admitted once or twice that he finds him attractive, but would never try to come on to him. His doctor finds this flattering, but he has been told this several times before and would just want to keep their relationship professional. He spends several minutes examining Brice for various things associated with low energy and administers a few blood tests. He tells him to come back in a few days since he will have his results back by then and to try and eat healthier from now on. After those few agonizing days, Brice returns to the office to get his review scheduled. His doctor comes walking out into the lobby to sit beside him. He tells him that his thyroid levels are quite off and his testosterone is really low and that is most likely the reason for his energy troubles. He tells Brice about a friend of his who specializes in those types of issues and to have an open mind because he is a bit different. Brice finds this compelling, but just wants this resolved as soon as possible. His doctor hands him a card and says that he can just walk into the clinic and they will schedule him there. After telling him about the specialist, the doctor gets up and goes back inside the office. Brice follows the directions to the clinic located on the outskirts of the city. What surprises him is it is a place he has driven past many times on his way to and from his job. It is a medical facility with many doctors including the one on his card, Dr. Damien Darkori. He walks into the main lobby and turns to find the office at the end of the hall. When he walks in, he notices how small the reception area is. There are three seats and two big buff guys are sitting in two of them. He goes up to the sign-in desk and is met by a hot male receptionist with bulging muscles. He is told to have a seat and it shouldn’t take very long to see the doctor. The other two men sitting beside him go into the office at the same time about five minutes after he sits down. This seems really strange to Brice that both men would go in at the same time. Not long after they go in, the door opens from inside the office and a red-skinned man in a lab coat emerges. Brice is stunned at first by the sight of a man with red skin, but at the same time is immensely intrigued. ‘You must be Brice Hanley,’ the doctor says with a smile. ‘Dr. Orleans called me earlier today and said you were coming to see me about an energy problem.’ ‘That is true,’ Brice answers. ‘Well, follow me into an exam room and we will talk about this.’ Brice gets up and follows him into the last exam room in the office. The doctor closes the door behind him, washes his red hands, and tells Brice to go sit on the exam table. The doctor moves his chair directly in front of Brice and places his big hands over top of the weary man’s thyroid. ‘I just looked at your chart before I came to get you and I think I have an idea of how to treat this,’ he tells Brice. ‘I hope so doctor,’ Brice says. ‘Let me just massage your neck and see if I can find anything,’ Dr. Darkori tells him. The tired patient starts to get fixated on the doctor’s big hairy rack that seems to be straining under the coat. Instead of being alarmed by his skin color anymore, Brice appears to be getting attracted to him instead. His nicely trimmed facial hair combined with his deep brown eyes, thick veiny arms, and huge legs are making Brice get hard. The doctor can feel it rising in his pants and is noticing how Brice is staring at him. He takes his hands off of Brice and gets up to stand. ‘I need you to take all of your clothes off for me so I can do a full body exam,’ he tells Brice. ‘What why?’ he says back. ‘I need you to trust me Brice. I promise I will not do anything to hurt you, I just need to know how bad your hormone deficiency is.’ Brice takes his shirt off first and then unzips his jeans to pull them off. His raging boner peeks out the top of his briefs. ‘It is fine to show it to me Brice,’ the doctor says while looking directly into his eyes. Brice pulls his briefs down making his thick cock flop down. The doctor goes to retrieve gloves and gets a bottle of lube out of one of his cabinets. He squirts a pile of it into his gloves and rubs his hands together. He moves over to Brice’s cock and starts stroking it. Brice lets out a moan as soon as Dr. Darkori touches it. He is amazed at how exhilarating it feels, even though he feels apprehensive about it too. ‘Let me do this Brice so we can determine the correct treatment,’ he says to him. The stroking makes Brice fantasize about having sex with the doctor as his mind wanders. Without thinking, his left hand finds itself on top of Damien’s cock which is located just beneath his scrubs. Brice feels the raging heat coming from it and even feels how hard it is. It is starting to make him ooze precum. The doctor stops stroking long enough to go over and grab a test tube and a petri dish to collect samples. He comes back to squeeze some of the precum into a test tube. Brice’s hand finds its way back to the hot doctor’s crotch. He is surprised when the doctor unties his scrubs and pulls them down revealing his thick red pulsing rod. Brice is amazed by the sheer size of it and lets out a moan. ‘If you need to stroke it Brice, then go ahead,’ the doctor tells him. ‘I do doctor, I just can’t help myself.’ ‘If it can make you cum for me, then so be it,’ the doctor realizes. His stroking gets louder as Brice makes slow strokes of his own on the doctor’s rod. ‘That feels really good Brice, but you may have to stop.’ The doctor appears to be sweating profusely and seems to be struggling with something. The doctor goes to lock the door and pulls his scrubs back up. ‘I…..may need to take a moment,’ he says with his back to Brice. ‘Was it something I did doctor?’ Brice asks. ‘Ummm, well you seem to have triggered something in me. I…..have to…..keep it under control.’ Brice starts to move towards the other side of the room as his cock gets softer over the stress. The doctor turns to look at Brice and looks as if he is about to have a breakdown. ‘Brice…..ahhh…..I have something to show you.’ Brice watches as it appears the doctor is transforming. ‘UHHH (deeper voice) yeah Brice I want you to take in my growing body.’ The doctor appears to be willing his muscles to grow at an alarming rate. The muscles are stretching and popping getting wider and thicker making his lab coat stretch to its limit. The hair on his body increases exponentially creating an intoxicating scent that spreads through the whole room. He rips his pants off revealing huge quads that have started to affect the way he stands. ‘UHHHH…..FUCK *rip* OH *rip* YESSSSS…..’ the doctor yells. He appears to revel in destroying his lab coat and watches as his body destroys every seam and stitch. Brice smells him from across the room and is getting wildly turned on by it as his cock springs back into its upright position. The doctor tears off the remaining material and motions for Brice to come over to him. ‘Brice…..(wipes the sweat off his chest), come over here and help me with something.’ Brice gets up and slowly walks over to the towering doctor. ‘I want you to suck my cock and swallow my load,’ the doctor says while looking down at the much smaller Brice. ‘I don’t know about this,’ Brice answers back. ‘I didn’t want to show this side of me to you yet, but you brought it out of me. My balls are producing tons of cum right now (places Brice’s hands on his grapefruit sized balls), I need you to empty them. The cum will repair your hormonal deficiency and much more.’ ‘Uhhh if you say so,’ Brice says and starts to massage the doctor’s huge rod. ‘Ahhh good man, keep doing that,’ the doctor says. Brice feels the doctor’s cock expanding in his hands as the cock head changes to a brownish color. ‘Keep stroking me Brice and swallow whatever comes out.’ Brice can feel the doctor’s body starting to pulsate as he locks his lips over the doctor’s brown cockhead. Brice sucks extremely fast making the doctor moan loudly. ‘FUCK YEAH LITTLE MAN TAKE IT…..’ Brice stops sucking to open his mouth and start swallowing the thick precum flowing from the cockhead. ‘Yeah little man, I want to see you change in front of me. You won’t be tired anymore after this, your body will change. AHHH YEAH, HERE IT COMES.’ Brice braces himself as dozens of thick ropey strands of cum go flying down his throat and into his stomach. He looks at his bulging stomach and wonders how this will help him. The doctor picks him up off the floor and sets him back down on the exam table. The doctor is soaked with sweat and stands in front of him. ‘What is going to happen to me now?’ Brice asks as he looks up at the big doctor. ‘Just relax Brice and let it repair you,’ he answers. Brice watches as his distended belly shrinks and the jizz gets absorbed into his body. ‘I feel a little better now,’ he says to the doctor. Brice can feel a rush of energy cascading to his feet and feels it starting to move its way up. ‘Uhh…. (stretch)what is happening (pop) to my legs….’ He looks down and watches in amazement as his feet start swelling and his calves start to grow wider and split into perfect teardrops. ‘Ahh gawd (pop) my legs feel like they are being pulled apart (stretch)….’ His quads and thighs are blowing up into huge trunks of hard muscle showing huge striations. He can feel his glutes inflating now into bowling balls. ‘OHH FUCK….. (pop) (pop)…..IT FEELS SO GOOD….’ ‘Just relax and let it take over,’ the doctor says as he tries to keep Brice under control. ‘WHAT…..ohh fuck it is moving through my cock. Damn, this feels incredible doctor.’ Brice watches as his ballsack expands filling up with tons of fresh spunk. ‘(stretch) OHHH GAWD I LOVE IT…..’ His cock begins stretching and pulling its way out from his body getting thicker and leaking precum. The doctor immediately starts pumping it. ‘Stay calm Brice and enjoy the rest of the experience.’ (pop) (pop) (pop) (pop) (pop) (pop) Brice’s stomach starts to react as his abs inflate and expand across his lower chest. ‘FUCK…..(stretch) (pop)…..ahh doctor I love it so much.’ Brice’s flat pecs make a huge exploding sound as they instantly inflate into huge boulders stretching his skin to its limit and pushing his nipples to the edge. Numerous popping sounds start emerging from his back as his arms are pushing outward to make way for his massive lats. He feels his back raging as his spine cracks and makes way for his immense back muscles. The feeling moves up to his shoulders and neck as he feels them start to expand. ‘AHH (voice deepens) YEAH (voice goes deeper) FUCK my voice is getting so deep…..’ It isn’t long before he sees his delts rise and inflate into huge walls as well as his shoulders fill out and up into round balls. ‘FUCK YEAH, give me monstrous arms, I want them so bad…..’ The rush finds its way into his arms which have involuntarily made fists. His cock bounces furiously as the doctor realizes Brice’s favorite area. At the same time, Brice’s head has even changed. (stretch) His face has a chiseled look to it now as his eyes have changed to brown from green and the hair on his head has thinned somewhat to make room for its additional girth. ‘OH FUCK YEAH…..FUCK YEAH…..’ (pop) (pop) (stretch) (stretch) (boom) he watches in amazement as his scrawny arms start to inflate rapidly. The veins are engorged with blood and the biceps balloon into softballs. His triceps grow into massive horseshoes taking up nearly the entire back part of his arms. With his fists still locked, he feels his fingers swelling up and putting pressure on the giant ball of muscle growing in his forearms. The sheer ecstasy puts him over the edge as the doctor feels the cum racing through his cock. ‘Let it all go Brice, hit me with it.’ The cum flies directly into the doctors chest and completely coats him. ‘OHH GAWD…..I LOVE IT SO MUCH….’ Brice yells. ‘Good because this is what your body has always needed,’ the doctor tells him. ‘Enjoy it because it only lasts a brief amount of time. You swallowed a lot of cum and the effects of that large quantity made your body respond in this way.’ The doctor wants Brice to cum as much as he possibly can while he is in this state. He gives him a jar to shoot in since there will be a lot of cum. The doctor stands beside him as he starts to jack off again. After a few more minutes, Brice shoots another massive load and then another one. Each time he gets smaller and closer to where he started. The doctor himself gets worked up and shoots a few loads into the same jar. ‘Thank you for your samples,’ the shrinking doctor says to him. ‘This will be used to make a vial of hormones specifically for you. When it is ready, I will call you back into the office.’ The doctor picks up the test tube on the counter with Brice’s precum before grabbing a robe by the door. He puts it on and leaves the room. Brice is completely soaked from this ordeal but manages to put his clothes back on before he goes out to see the receptionist. He is told that he will be contacted soon to come back in for a follow-up. He smiles as he leaves the clinic because he is feeling more invigorated than ever. He can’t wait until his next appointment with the hot red doctor.

‘Wow Pedro that was one hell of a workout we just had baby.’ Victor rolls over to his side to face his beefy Puerto Rican boyfriend and puts his arms around him. They lean in and kiss each other passionately as they mesh their bodies together. The two men smile as they feel the warm Miami breeze against their bare skin and hear the tides in the ocean moving a few feet from where they are laying. ‘Aye papi, I love you so much. I am so grateful that we met last year because you saved me from a life of regret. I was miserable being fat. You helped me to understand though that it isn’t necessarily about the physical aspects, but rather what is inside too.’ Victor rubs Pedro’s buzzed hair on his head and leans his furry face against his. ‘You actually saved me Pedro. My relationship with Michael was not great and in fact one of my close friends hinted that he was cheating on me.’ Pedro squeezes Victor’s body tightly. ‘I suppose you are talking about that British man that you know really well right papi? I would like to meet him someday if he is the reason that you found me. He seems to have helped you cope with your demons.’ The two men lie nude on the beach for several more minutes to take in the fading sun before getting up to shake the sand off before they walk back up the stairs and into the beach house they are staying at. They kiss each other longingly again before taking turns showering. Pedro tells Victor that he needs to get some sleep so he isn’t a zombie at work the next day. He hugs the sexy black-bearded man goodnight and disappears into their bedroom. Victor goes to retrieve their mail for the day and finds a small package tucked between the bills. He takes it out from the pile and sits at their dining room table to examine it. He smiles and notices the Royal Mail sticker on it and immediately knows who it is from. He peels the strip back on the edge of the envelope and peers inside. He notices a small box from within and pulls it out. He briefly looks it over and opens it. ‘Hmmm…..what have you sent me Achilles? A temporary tattoo? *looks it over with a puzzled face* Very strange…..well it does look really cool…..i will have to decide where to put it.’ The tattoo is of a very muscular bull with a likeness of Victor as its face. He stares at it intently and wonders if perhaps Achilles sent this to him as a possible inspiration piece. He gets up from the table and goes back into the bathroom again to stare into the mirror at his incredibly beefy muscular body. His tight shorts hug his huge quads and steel ass as he turns from side to side to take in his hugeness. He has a snake tattoo that stretches from his left trap all the way down to his right pec and there are tats on both shoulders and arms. Since he has a playing card pattern on his left leg, he thinks that the bull tat should go on his right leg. He doesn’t really want to put it on yet, at least not until he gets up to workout again the next day so he can show it off at the gym. He puts it on the counter for now until he wakes up the next morning. After looking himself over and using the bathroom, he climbs into bed with Pedro and puts his arms around his lover so he can get comfortable before he falls asleep. The Puerto Rican hottie reaches down and slides Victor’s shorts off so he can massage the thick stud’s huge quads. ‘I thought you were sleeping baby. Surely you aren’t in the mood again are you?’ ‘Papi, you know I go crazy for your quads. They are so powerful and feel so good against my body.’ Pedro turns Victor to his side and flips his own body around so that his ass rubs against the beefy stud’s legs. His hairy cock now presses against the latino stud’s butt. Victor flexes his quads making the huge diamond-shaped muscles twitch and bounce as his cock slowly grows. He moans lightly as he pulls Pedro up against him. ‘MMMMM papi, put it inside me and it will help me relax like you always do. I love you.’ Victor growls and pushes his cock all the way in as Pedro maneuvers himself in bed as his tattooed lover slowly grinds him. They both moan deeply as the beefy stud picks up speed after sliding his entire cock inside his latino partner. Knowing he can’t hold out much longer, Victor stops to lean in and kiss his Puerto Rican lover’s neck to make the sensation last longer. He edges a few times to make his balls swell up until they are ready to burst. Pedro grips Victor’s thick quads and grunts feeling his big lover trying not to let go. He turns his head and gives him a very lustful look. ‘Do it papi, I want to feel you fill my guts with your hot lava like you always do. I love you so much.’ Within just seconds, Victor unleashes his little boys into Pedro. They both yell in delight as they kiss each other deeply and relax their bodies. The sweat pours off both men saturating the sheets to the point that they both laugh. The beefy big man pulls out of his partner and gets up to grab another set from the nearby cabinet. Pedro jumps to his feet and pulls them off before throwing them over to the side. He walks over to Victor and puts his arm on his shoulder and turns his head to speak. ‘Papi…..wait, we need to clean up before we put another set on. Should we take separate showers?’ Victor smiles and puts the sheets down on the floor before picking Pedro up and taking him to the bathroom. He sits him down in the shower on the bench and turns the water on. The Puerto Rican squeals feeling the cold water hitting him which gets Victor’s attention immediately as he turns the hot water on. After getting the temperature just right, he hops in with his lover and starts lathering up his body with the bottle of Axe body wash that they both love so much. The smell makes Pedro horny again as his cock grows and pulses behind Victor’s soapy back. He stands up and puts his arms around the big guy and kisses his huge delts. ‘Hehe, is it my turn now papi? I don’t normally feel so inclined to be the top, but this scent always makes me get so sexed up.’ He pushes his cock inside Victor’s pulsing hole and slowly fucks him which makes the big guy growl lightly as he grips the sides of the shower. Pedro’s steady rhythm eventually makes the beefy stud lose himself in the moment as he leans back against his sexy furry lover. The latino puts his hands down the front of Victor’s chest and runs his fingers up and down the thick mounds of muscle sitting on the beefy stud’s chest. He finds his nipples and pinches them making Victor growl as a result. They kiss longingly as the water cascades down their bodies. Pedro moans feeling his balls swelling as he continues to thrust in and out of his big hunky partner. He wraps his arms around Victor and whispers in his ear that he is going to return the favor as he pumps him full of thick cum. They both grunt as they stand there letting the cum flow from one man to another. Victor closes his eyes and smiles as Pedro peers around to see him doing this. He makes a funny gesture which the big stud doesn’t see since his eyes are closed. ‘What are you thinking about papi? Why don’t you let me in on your naughty thoughts.’ Victor opens his eyes and looks Pedro straight into his before he says something. ‘Mmmmm…..well I am just imagining what could happen if maybe we let our minds take over our bodies baby.’ The stunned Puerto Rican seems to know what his lover is talking about in a way as he pulls out of Victor, cleans his crotch, and steps out of the shower to towel off. Victor turns the water off and follows him out to grab another towel. They dry off and walk through the beach house nude. Pedro decides to walk out on the balcony to just watch the waves for a few minutes while Victor goes off to do some things around the house since they are not tired anymore. After about twenty minutes, the big man meets up with his latino lover on the balcony with a big surprise. ‘Look baby what Achilles sent me. *shows Pedro the tattoo* Want to help me put it on my right leg?’ Pedro takes it from Victor’s hand and looks it over. He smiles and thinks that maybe this isn’t an ordinary tattoo. He motions for the beefy stud to go sit in one of their beach chairs while he goes to moisten it. Victor grins and turns to run over to a chair as his muscles twitch and flex and his ballsac bounces. Pedro returns a couple of minutes later in a hurry himself trying to make sure that the tattoo doesn’t dry out in the beach air. ‘Put your leg out papi, I don’t have much time for this.’ The Puerto Rican gets down on his knees and positions the tattoo on Victor’s right leg and rubs it on quickly making sure it has no ripples in it. The big man shivers feeling sensations running up and down his body which makes his cock twitch a couple of times as a little bit of precum dribbles down on to the sand. Pedro makes a couple of low sounds noticing how this is affecting his partner. The tattoo may have even winked at Pedro at least he thinks he saw it wink. He looks up at Victor’s eyes and sees a spark in them he hasn’t seen before. The big stud stands up and stretches for about a minute before walking down to the ocean. ‘WAIT! PAPI! It winked at me, I swear. How are you feeling? Are you okay Victor?’ Victor turns around and motions for his lover to come join him down along the coastline. A few people walk by and stare at them, even a couple of them stop to look at the nude couple. Pedro smiles at him and charges before jumping into his arms and laughing as they fall on to the wet sand below them. They are approached by one of the bystanders who seem to be interested in joining them on the ground, but Victor gives him a warning by snarling which makes Pedro a bit confused. The man gets the point and turns to walk away quickly. ‘You just snarled like a…..bull papi. Is it possible that this tattoo will somehow change who you are?’ Victor looks up at his confused lover and has a noticeable change in his eye color as a reddish tint seems to be mixing in with his brown eyes. Strangely, Pedro is not that worried about it and leans down to kiss him on the lips. The beefy stud grunts loudly feeling something happening from inside his body which makes his latino lover start to anticipate some kind of physical change in him. ‘What is going to happen to you Victor? I hope you are still able to maintain your identity after all of this is done.’ Victor strains feeling his toes cracking and melding themselves together on both of his feet. He groans as they stretch and widen to form what appear to be giant bull hooves. Pedro’s eyes widen seeing this happen and can feel his lover’s legs starting to change as well. A large patch of hair begins growing on top of each hoof as the veins in his arms and legs start to protrude and grow thicker underneath the skin. The Puerto Rican doesn’t hesitate to feel Victor’s muscles as they expand in along his fingers. His legs widen as the muscles blow up into engorged mounds stretching the skin to its limits. Pedro moans as he watches his mate transforming into something unlike himself. Victor does not appear to be in any kind of pain either as it moves into his crotch and midsection. His cock and balls inflate to twice their size mesmerizing his latino lover as he sees the ballsac growing trying to contain the two huge bull testicles. He leans in to lick and taste Victor’s growing pole as it swells turning to a much deeper purple color. He catches some of the salty juices flowing from its slit as it gapes open. He rubs his mate’s newly grown bull legs feeling their raging power and marveling at his incredible size. He looks up at Victor and watches his head as it starts to change its shape slightly as his nose stretches parting his nostrils as they double in size. His mouth stretches further up his face as two horns protrude from the sides of his head. The brownish red hair he saw grow out from other parts of his lover’s body are now thickening up on Victor’s head above his newly sheathed horns. Pedro knows now that he is changing into a bull like creature which makes his own cock leak precum. He leans up against Victor’s chest feeling his abs protruding as they stretch and pull themselves to the sides of his torso. The emerging musclebull rears his head back as his pecs flare out and swell bigger and fuller than ever before. His back and lats pop multiple times accommodating the extra size as they too swell and grow. Pedro wastes no time running his hands over the massive muscles on his lover’s new torso and moves his mouth up to start chewing and sucking on Victor’s powerful new pecs and nipples. The forest of hair sitting on top of them drives the Puerto Rican wild as he pets it with his hands. The huge bull wraps his incredible arms around his latino lover’s back and holds him against his body as his biceps and triceps continue to thicken up, pressing the engorged volleyball sized bulbs against Pedro. The hispanic stud moans deeply as his cock finally shoots cum down Victor’s abs and his right bull leg. He snarls and reaches for Pedro’s face to make him look up at him. The musclebull’s face is done transforming as his reddish-brown eyes and fur glean in the nighttime. The Puerto Rican moves up to plunge his tongue down the manimal’s throat which meets up with Victor’s new thick tongue. Subsequently, the bigger tongue finds itself moving down inside the eager human’s throat. The musclebeast grips his lover tightly pressing him up against his thick tool and grunts teasing his hole with it. Pedro’s desire for this new creature is overtaking his senses as he relaxes his body to allow Bull Victor to enter him. The bull’s hulking hands are surprisingly smooth and provide a calming effect for the latino man. The huge creature finally penetrates him spreading his ass wider and making the Puerto Rican wince with every inch that enters him. Despite the noticeable pain, Pedro feels waves of pleasure rushing through him. His lust for the musclebeast is obvious now as well as Victor’s complete acceptance of his dramatic transformation. The huge beast’s eyes glisten staring into his human lover’s own as he fucks him slowly and methodically trying to conjure up the gallon of bull semen sitting in his engorged sac. Pedro can smell the incredible aroma emanating from Victor’s crotch as feels his beastly lover starting to strain making his powerful muscles drip with perspiration against Pedro’s more insignificant ones. The small human knows his time is coming soon to join his animalistic lover. He stops kissing Victor to look at him again in his loving eyes. ‘MMMMM papi…..I want to hear you say something to me. Can you talk? I am dying to know what you sound like in this insanely powerful body.’ Bull Victor smiles and shows off his new thick teeth that have grown in before he tries to speak. ‘I……*deep rumbling tone*……can talk baby……*his voice sends shivers up and down Pedro’s body which makes the human grind his cock more*…….*Victor grunts as he does so*……mmmmmm I always had this feeling about you baby……we share a common bond for muscle and power……and….. a slight touch of beastiality it seems. *winks* I can’t wait to see your beautiful animal side Pedro, I hope you can handle it baby.’ Victor places his huge hands on Pedro’s sides and grips him as he starts to snarl feeling his balls contracting and pushing cum into his bullcock. The flood starts to fill the small human’s insides which is making Pedro gasp as he squeezes the musclebull’s powerful 28” biceps. The huge manimal sees a look of fear in the human’s eyes but wants him to just keep focusing on his face. ‘Baby…..*still pumping cum inside Pedro*…..just relax your body and let it do what it needs to do. You will be beautiful to me no matter what happens now. *smiles at him and flips his big muscly tail that is attached above his giant muscle butt* I bet you never thought you would like a tail on me did you?’ *smiles at him* Victor finally stops fucking Pedro as a small river of cum flows down his cock. He can see that Pedro is now in considerable pain as his transformation begins almost immediately. The musclebull moves his human lover down against his immense torso to make him more comfortable as he pulls his cock out of his Puerto Rican lover’s hole and starts rubbing Pedro’s back and ass caressing him waiting for his lover’s body to start its inevitable metamorphosis into another stage of evolution. For other stories in this series, check out the one with the mirror: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/3467-the-other-side-of-the-mirror/ and the one with the otherworldly man: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/3764-the-other-side-of-our-minds/

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.

Brad awakens in the middle of the street of some town he has never been to before. He quickly rushes to the side of the road and sits on the curb anxiously wondering what the hell happened the night before. The man he saw change into a wolf must have dropped him off here for some reason. He quickly remembers that he was looking for Wade and gets up to compose himself. There are people walking around him and don’t seem to care that he is a bit out of sorts. He is also wearing clothes that aren’t his which makes him a bit uncomfortable. He turns to look inside the shop window from where he was laying before. There are two men standing there looking back at him which makes him wonder if they are friendly or not. He eventually decides to go inside the door to talk to them. One of them slowly moves to the back while the other one remains standing. He is a fairly small man, but he is dressed quite well in a white dress shirt and brown blazer and has on brown pants and brown boots. He has a well-kempt beard and brown eyes. Brad notices a scar along his neck and figures that this man is probably a were animal of some sort like Wade and that man from last night. ‘So…..do you have any idea how I got here today? I don’t remember anything from last night on.’ The man continues to stand silently staring at his baggy clothes. Before long, the man gestures for him to go to the back where the other man went. Brad nods and follows him to where the other man is. This man is a lot bigger and could pass for an animal in his own right. His huge back is all Brad sees until he turns around. His thick chest and gut glisten in the lights as Brad stares at the mountain of fur running from his legs up to his face. The man motions for him to sit down in a chair located by the bathrooms. Both men stand in front of him as they look at each other. The large one is wearing shorts that hug his giant quads as his package nearly hangs down. Brad can nearly see the man’s fat rod peeking from underneath. The man adjusts his cock as he realizes what the disoriented man is doing. He reaches down and pulls Brad’s baggy shirt off and sees the marks on his neck. Both men smile and shake their heads. ‘Yeah we can smell it in you. Hank here senses some bear flowing through you while I can sense the wolf.’ ‘Uhh okay? So you are both telling me that I have bear and wolf DNA inside me? Oh gawd!’ ‘You were obviously left in front of our doorstep for a reason man. Whoever it was knew that we would figure it out quickly. Me and Hank are converts too of different species. You however are a mixture of both.’ ‘So what do I do now? I am searching for a man…..his name is Wade. I really want to know what happened to him as well as what has happened to me.’ The two men grab chairs and sit down in front of Brad. The smaller one puts his hand out and wants Brad to do the same. Brad does and the man puts his in his. ‘Do you feel it man? We both have it flowing inside us. Yours may have a conflict with the other beast residing inside you. Let me have Hank grab your other hand.’ Hank reaches out and takes Brad’s other hand and clasps it. Brad feels extremely sick as both men close their eyes and focus their energy on Brad’s. He tries to let go of Hank’s hand, but he resists. He does manage to let go of the other man’s which makes him gasp for breath. Hank continues to focus on to Brad’s inner beast which makes him writhe in pain. The other man grabs a hold of Hank’s arm and pulls the two hands apart. The agonizing pain stops as Brad drips in perspiration. Hank laughs a little and leans over to lick the sweat off Brad’s chest. He moans a bit as Brad tries to get away from him. The other man tells him to stop terrorizing Brad because he isn’t ready yet. ‘Boys relax. I’m sorry we put you through this man, I wasn’t thinking. My name is Curtis in case you need to know. I think we have confirmed that you are definitely a hybrid. Hank will be hard pressed though to let you leave without something happening.’ Brad notices Hank’s engorged cock hanging out the side of his shorts. The giant pink head looks wet as it throbs. Curtis leans down and slides his pinky down Hank’s piss slit. The huge beastly man yells in agony as his partner fucks it with his finger. Brad looks hypnotized as he sees this happening. Hank pulls his shorts off and reveals his immense ass covered in thick fur to match the rest of his body. His firm ass though looks quite inviting to Brad as he feels his cock reacting. He hopes that he doesn’t do what Wade did when they had sex though. It seems like Curtis is using a more subtle approach to make Brad’s inner beasts come out as the whole experience of watching the small man performing such an unusual sex act on Hank is making Brad uneasy and he doesn’t know why. Curtis moves down to start sucking on his lover’s wet cock head after he removes his finger. The large beast growls in lust as his eyes turn black and his teeth fall out to reveal large fangs. Brad can notice something happening to Curtis too as he hears the man moaning in angst as his clothes begin to tighten. He can hear the man’s clothes begin to rip rather quickly as he notices both huge men beginning to transform. Hank’s face is changing shape as it gets rounder and starts to resemble a black bear but his chest is still like a human’s as he legs get even thicker as the black fur completely covers his skin. Curtis’s nice clothes are starting to fall apart as his red fur begins to expose his body. His mouth changes slightly as the wolfman grows thick fangs and ears on his head as his human ears fall off. Remarkably he continues to suck on his werebear’s thick rod which has thickened even further as it spills pre down his throat. The werewolf howls lightly as it continues to gobble down the juices flowing from the werebear’s cock. Brad wants to flee so badly but is compelled to continue watching their transformations. Curtis’s pants rip in a thousand places as his thin legs blow up into huge muscular hind quarters as a huge red tail goes flying out his growing back which has reduced his shirt to being a scarf. His hands and arms that are still around his werebear lover’s back have changed their shape as claws grow out of them and pierce the flesh making Hank growl in lust. It isn’t long before Curtis’s pants fall out revealing his wolf cock which is nice and thick and protruding from his sheath. Brad seems almost tempted to go pleasure it as something inside him is trying to push him towards it. Curtis is now howling because Hank is shooting a river of cum down his lover’s throat as it also spills out and down his lover’s muzzle. Brad’s breathing grows heavier as he tries desperately to keep his composure. He doesn’t have a fetish for beastiality, but the dangling cock on Curtis seems so inviting. The werewolf knows this too as his eyes keep turning to look at Brad. It finally pulls the bear cock out of its mouth and walks over to Brad. ‘NO PLEASE I DON’T WANT IT! Curtis if you can hear me I don’t want it.’ The werewolf actually smiles at him and appears to attempting some kind of speech. ‘…..you…..need…..pleasure…..give in…..beast…..you want this…..’ The wolfy Curtis gets up on its hind legs and puts its front legs on the wall behind Brad’s head. It’s wolf cock throbs a bit as it spills fluid on his leg. It reaches down like it is about to eat him, but ends up licking him on his neck where his last wound is. Hank moves over to Brad now and sits his huge humanlike cock on his right hand. The huge pink head instantly makes the shocked onlooker pet it which gets a deep moan out of the werebear. Wolfy Curtis inches his cock closer to Brad’s mouth which makes him start to sweat profusely knowing that it may make him lose control of his own inhibitions. The creature eventually pushes its cock on to Brad’s face where it throbs wildly and makes him start to tremble a bit. It leans its head in to give him a slight nibble growling a bit as Brad tries to resist. All the while he is stroking the bear’s thick meaty cock as it moans. ‘OH PLEASE GAWD CURTIS I CAN’T…..I know what you are doing but not now…..I can’t give in…..’ Brad’s grip on bearish Hank’s cock loosens as his arm shakes. He can feel things building inside him but tries desperately to keep it from progressing. Curtis begins to claw down the wall as he slides his paws down Brad’s shirt shredding it. Brad yells in pain as the werewolf digs into him drawing blood as he grabs the animal and tries to pull him off. He can’t budge him though as Curtis slowly leans down and chews on his shoulder. Brad starts to give in to the animal and can’t hold on anymore. Hank gets behind Curtis and enters the werewolf with his hard cock and starts fucking him as they both sense the change coming from within Brad. Brad’s bloodied chest and shoulder has distracted him to the point that the process is already starting from within him. The beastly couple growl and howl in anticipation of the new addition to the family. End of Part 3

(Inspired by a friend in the U.S. Pacific Northwest. You know who you are). “Come on, Mouse, I don’t have all night. I have to meet Janice in about an hour.” “Matt, I’ve asked you not to call me that. All the other guys in Delta Kappa are calling me that, now. Call me Michael, okay – you know - so they will.” “Sorry, squirt. You’re just too small to call anything else but Mouse. Now quit your jabbering - are we going to do this or not?” “Yeah, we are. I thought you were going to call it off with Janice, though. That’s what you told me last week.” “Um . . . I did? Oh yeah, after the keg party – must have been the beer talking. Well yeah . . . yeah, I’m going to do that soon. I promise. I mean, she’s not the one for me, that’s for sure. She won’t let me go all the way with her, so I gotta move on. And then there’s your hot little mouth, Mouse. I mean you’ll suck me off any time I want, right? That’s the problem, though - this way I don’t mind if Janice never puts out. I get my cake and eat it, too. But . . . um, sure . . . I can end it with Janice someday – but there’s something kind of cool about keeping our little bromance a secret, right. I mean, come on. I’m the captain of the wrestling team and you’re . . . well, you’re Mouse. Now, come on and get me off. Remember, not as much teeth as last week, dude. I don’t want to have to explain the marks to anyone in the locker room.” Matt grabbed the back of Michael’s head with both hands and led the guy’s mouth to his hard cock. It wasn’t a romantic moment, Matt hadn’t even pulled his pants down all the way – it was just a quickie so the big guy could get his rocks off. It was soon over and Michael was again instantly disappointed by both the lack of emotion and the amount of cum. One quick swallow and the wrestler was done. Matt pushed the smaller guy away and zipped up his pants – satisfied and ready to forget what just happened. “Remember, Mouse. This thing we have going on is our little secret. It wouldn’t look good for me to be tied to someone so . . . um, small, okay?” “Sure, Matt. Whatever you say. But you’re still gonna choose me as your little brother, aren’t you?” “Of course I am, little man. I mean, it’s really up to the fraternity to appoint big brothers, but I’ll try and request you. Just don’t be disappointed if they assign you to someone else. You’ll be happy with any guy you get, though, right? Now, wipe my juice from your face, get your clothes on, and head back to your dorm so I can go meet Janice. Make sure none of the other brothers are in the hallway when you leave. Let’s get moving, Mouse.” “Remember, once you’re my big brother, no more Mouse. Okay, Matt?” “We’ll see, little Mouse. Now move! I heed to go get some kisses from my girl.” “How come we never kiss, Matt?” “I’ve told you this a hundred times, Mouse. I don’t kiss guys. I just use that mouth of yours to get off. You’re happy because you get my cock down your throat and I’m happy because I get some relief for my blue balls. It’s a great arrangement. And I’m not cheating on Janice. Now skedaddle and make yourself invisible as you leave.” Michael walked across campus in the cool evening with mixed emotions. When he was with the beefy wrestler he felt more alive than he ever did at other times – mainly because Matt’s muscles made him constantly hard. But there was something in the lack of intimacy that made Michael long for more. Matt was the most popular guy in Delta Kappa – as well as the biggest – and he had taken a shining to the smaller guy from the first night of rush week. The hunky confident wrestler was the main reason Michael had pledged this specific fraternity – possibly the only reason. The blowout party the night guys became pledges had been magical. Matt was drunk as hell and had a fight with his girlfriend. Michael had gone up to the big man’s room to check on him and one thing led to another and before you knew it, the wrestler’s cock was out and waving in front of Michaels face. It had been love at first suck. In his drunken state, Matt had poured on the compliments to the little guy’s oral abilities. Michael was ready to check out china patterns ten minutes later as he rested his head on the passed-out wrestler’s beefy pecs. They had clearly made love so this union was definitely destined to last forever. That had been about a month ago and these little ‘secret meetings’ had been happening every two or three days. Michael was beginning to notice the relationship, however, seemed a little lopsided. The pledge had a lot of questions. I wonder why he never sucks me off? He says it’s because he’s the bigger guy, but I’m not sure that’s how it works. He sometimes allows me to beat off while I touch his body, but that’s only been a few times. I really wish I had more experience with this dating stuff. And when is he finally going to call it quits with Janice and tell everyone about us? “Well, if it isn’t the little Mouse.” “What’s up, Kenny? Don’t call me that. My name’s Michael.” “Not until big Matt Wilson says it is, dude. He’s given you a nickname and the entire school follows his lead.” Kenny Lytton was also a freshman and happened to be pledging Delta Kappa, too. Michael didn’t particularly like the guy, he was arrogant and sometimes a bully, but since they’d one day be fraternity brothers he tried his best to put up with him. Kenny reminded Michael of a poisonous snake – slithering around you until it sees where best to strike. “Well, you could be your own person and do something different.” “Yeah, I could . . . but I won’t, Mouse. So, who’s your first choice for big brother?” “As a matter of fact, I’m planning on putting Matt down as my only choice.” “Ouch! Not a good plan, Mouse, not a good plan. One, you should never put all of your eggs in one basket and secondly, didn’t you hear – Matt’s not eligible to be anyone’s big brother. He’s technically not a student. Yeah, they’ve got him on the books and all, but that’s just so he can be on the wrestling team. It seems he’s on the seven year or eight year plan and the school has rules about that stuff. So, he’s able to take a class here or there, just so he can wrestle, but he’s technically not part of the system. The Delta Kappa’s aren’t allowed to let him be involved in the frat’s business. Sorry, little fella.” “You’re making this up. That’s just cruel, Kenny.” “Nope, all true. Scout’s honor. Of course, I was never a scout, but what the hell. Besides, I know it’s for sure because I was going to put him down as my first choice and the dweeb pledge director, Scott, informed me I couldn’t. Don’t worry, though, Mouse. I’ve heard one of the members has already talked to Scott about assigning you to him.” “Who?” “Dough-boy, Tommy Cole.” “Get outta here! You’re definitely making that up. I don’t even know the guy.” “Wait and see, Mouse . . . wait and see.” Michael stood in front of his dorm as Kenny slithered away – almost hissing with an evil chuckle. The immediate thought that consumed Michael was how sure he was that Matt already knew he couldn’t be assigned as his big brother – yet he didn’t say a thing. It crossed his mind that maybe Matt was just trying to protect him – not wanting him to be disappointed way in advance of the assignment ceremony. The other option - that Matt just didn’t care – hurt too much, so Michael went with his first theory. Secondly, Michael turned his thoughts to Tommy Cole. He barely knew the guy and he was sure he had never spoken more than two words to him – and vice versa. They had nothing in common. Tommy was a junior political science major and was basically a loner. Michael didn’t like to be cruel, but Tommy was – as Kenny had put it – a dough-boy. He was about fifty pounds overweight and never took care of himself. His clothes always looked slept in and the guy had really greasy hair. Michael immediately stopped this train of thought. He, of all people, was in no place to judge anyone. Michael stood only five-two and barely weighed one hundred and ten pounds. He forced himself to not think any more unflattering thoughts about Tommy. He did, however, continue to wonder why the guy was interested in being his big brother. ********** “Mouse, I didn’t tell you I couldn’t be your big brother because I didn’t want you to get upset. Okay? I hate it when you’re upset.” “No you don’t – you couldn’t care less.” “Well, that’s usually true, but this time I did care. You’ll get a good big brother don’t worry about it. I hear Tommy Cole is interested. That would be . . . you know . . . okay.” “I don’t even know him.” “Well, you can get to know him over the next few months. That’s what having a big brother is all about. Hey, listen, since you came all the way over here this morning to talk to me . . . I was wondering if . . . you know . . . you’d like to do some magic with that mouth of yours. Janice got me worked up something awful last night and I woke up with the most painful morning wood ever. How ‘bout I fuck your face before I go lift. It would help me let off some steam and then build all these muscles you love so much.” “Are you kidding me, Matt? After you basically lied to me about being my big brother. And, by the way, that was like the most unromantic proposition I’ve ever heard. Can’t you for once think in advance and say something you think I’d like to hear!” Matt didn’t say a word. He just smiled and reached down to grab the hem of his t-shirt. In one swift move he had the thing off his big body and he was bouncing his pecs while he flexed his right gun. He knew he didn’t have to say a thing – he could leave the romance for the dweebs. He knew what Mouse liked and he knew he had the goods to please the little guy. Matt’s chest rolled up and down like many of the internet guys Michael loved jerking off to. The big pecs tightened hard and bulged majestically. Matt was especially proud of his big chest – the way it pushed out his shirts in a way that made it clear he was built. He was also aware that Mouse was a gun guy. The little squirt loved Matt’s arms and the big man always knew a few biceps flexes could make Mouse hard as hell – just as they were right now. Michael didn’t even try to hide his growing boner – he was too entranced by the big wrestlers arm. “Come on, Mousey. I need some relief this morning. That hot little mouth of yours will give me so much pleasure. I’ll even let you kiss my big gun and nuzzle my pit. Last time we did that you squirted without even touching yourself. What do you say, little fella – let me slam my cock down that throat of yours. Think of it as me supplementing your breakfast with a little protein. Big Matt needs to get off, Mouse. He needs to get off in a big way. Don’t you want to help this big ole muscleman?” Michael realized that this was the closest to being romantic the big guy was ever going to get. He also understood his own inability to say no to muscles. The rolling pecs, the swelling big biceps, and the way Matt liked to talk about himself was always enough to make Michael lose all control over his thoughts and actions. He knew he was a muscle pig and he simply embraced the role. He walked over to the much larger Matt and fell to his knees. Within thirty seconds Matt had rammed his dick down Michael’s throat and busted out one of his less-than-stellar wads. Michael could help but feeling a little short-changed. Matt immediately pulled his shirt back on and was grabbing his keys as Michael got up off his knees. “Listen, little Mouse. That was awesome. Thanks a lot. I know I promised a little muscle show, but you know I can’t be late for lifting. I’ll let you have a little extra few minutes of groping the next time we get together – you know, to make up for it. Now, wait five minutes after I leave and check to make sure there’s no one in the hall when you head out. Just lock the door behind you. Oh, and no smelling my jocks after I’m gone. You know how that freaks me out. I’ll see you later on at the big brother assignment ceremony. You’ll get the person you deserve, don’t worry. That’s how it always works. Remember, it’s not like whoever gets you is getting the cream of the crop of pledges, you know? So, just be happy with the guy that asks for you. Oh, and too much teeth again today. You gotta remember I don’t like that.” And then Matt was out the door. Michael stood there dumbfounded and hurt. Did the big wrestler not ever stop to think about what he was saying? Did he not hear himself? And how the hell long does it take to let a guy kiss an arm and run his nose through a pit? It’s not like the weight room was going anywhere. Michael was fighting back the tears. This was turning out to be the worst day ever. He had come over that morning to end this . . . this whatever the thing with Matt was called and, yet, he had succumbed to his desires once again and let himself be used as a cum depository. It wasn’t even a satisfying amount of cum! He sat on the bed and put his head in his hands – trying hard to not give into the urge to pick up a discarded jockstrap flung to one of the corners of the room. He loved the smell of Matt’s sweat – since it reminded him of the big man’s muscles. Sometimes, there was even the whiff of pre-cum, since Matt was notorious for leaking heavily as he lifted weights. There was something about pushing heavy stuff around that made the big man hard as hell and caused droplets of his juice to sputter out. These thoughts made Michael realize he was still painfully hard from his encounter with Matt. He contemplated, momentarily, jerking off on Matt’s bed – spilling his seed all over the rumpled sheets in retaliation, but, as usual, he chickened out. One of the downsides of being so small is that you rarely did anything bold or confrontational. Michael merely went to the door, peered out into the hall, and left, locking the thing behind him. ********** Everyone was starting to gather in the large hall of the Delta Kappa house. Soon, it would be time for the pledge director to announce big brother – little brother assignments. There was a palpable excitement in the room – caused by the anticipation of assignments as well as the fact that there were two kegs. Michael entered the hall a few minutes before eight, the bewitching hour, and noticed Matt in the midst of a big group of guys over by the beer. Drinking always made the big wrestler horny as hell, so Michael figured he’d be servicing him later on that night. Matt noticed him as soon as he came in and walked over to the keg. “What’s up little Mouse? Getting excited about finding out your big brother?” A few of the guys around Matt took his lead and said hello – making sure to call Michael by his nickname. Matt spoke loudly and jovially – to make sure no one figured out there was something going on between the two of them. All of this made Michael feel even smaller than he really was. He contemplated leaving – not wanting to be in the crowd on this particular night, but the thought of getting to lay beside Matt’s big body later on got the best of him and so he started moving to a corner of the room that seemed empty. “Good evening, Michael.” At first, the little guy almost didn’t recognize his own name. It had been so long since one of the guys in the house had used it. He stopped and turned toward the voice, seeing Tommy Cole standing against the wall with a beer in his hand. As usual, the guy’s shirt was a mess and his hair seemed greasier than ever. Michael forced these negative thoughts out of his head, again, and stepped toward the guy. “Hello, Tommy. How are you?” “I’m good, man. And you?” “Very good. I’ve got a beer so I’m feeling content.” “Here’s another big man’s beer for you, Mouse. What’s up TC?” Suddenly, Matt was there with a second cup for Michael and it was quite clear that he was forcing his presence on the two guys – just to make sure Michael didn’t get any wild ideas that he belonged to anyone else. As unhealthy as it was, it kind of turned the little guy on to know that big Matt Wilson was worried that Tommy and Michael might become so close that he’d be out of the picture. Of course, deep down, Michael knew the big man was really only worried about not having a little guy to suck him off, but it was good to imagine the situation differently. To actually think that Matt was jealous of his guy talking to some other dude. “You know, his name is Michael, Matt, and mine is Tommy . . . not TC.” “Aw, come on, TC, you know I give everyone pet names. What’s the big deal? It means I like you. Besides, Mouse loves his pet name, right Mouse? He knows he’s got a special place with me. You know, like you used to – before you got so overweight and started not caring about the way you look. We used to be good pals, you and me, TC – but then you went all weird. If I could have had another little brother tonight, the two of you would have ended up being fraternity siblings. Aw, don’t look so surprised, Michael. TC used to be a lot different. It was a given fact that he would choose me as his big brother. If the school hadn’t fucked everything up, you’d be my little brother, too. Look at us, kind of like one big happy family. Well, drink up, boys, it’s going to be a fun night. Mouse, I hope you choose a good runner-up big bro. Stop by my room later on, I’ve got something that’s going to need attention.” Matt winked at Michael as he took a big swig of his beer. He then sauntered away, making sure he tensed his arms to entrance his little Mouse. He also rolled his massive chest under his fraternity t-shirt, making the Delta Kappa letters move up and down. For a few brief seconds Michael was lost in the glow of the big man and the thought of feeling all that hard beef. He slowly became aware that Tommy was staring at him. He took a sip of beer and then turned to face the guy. There was an awkward silence that finally made Michael say something. “Um . . . I had no idea he was your big brother.” “Size turn you on, Michael? Would you like to be big like Matt.?” The question caught Michael by surprise – coming out of almost nowhere. He could tell by the look on Tommy’s face that the dude was completely serious, but it just seemed like an odd question. The uneasiness of the situation, however, made Michael answer quickly and truthfully. “Who wouldn’t?” “Indeed, who wouldn’t? Or more importantly, who would give if up if they had it?” “I guess no one.” Michael was a little uncomfortable with the conversation – especially since Tommy’s thoughts seemed to be somewhere else. It was as if he were thinking about something pretty important and trying to have a conversation with Michael at the same time. The smaller guy contemplated walking away. He could go join Matt and the others around the keg, but that plan was interrupted. “What if I could help you be big, Michael?” “Um . . . excuse me?” “What if I could help you be big – you know, like Matt.” “Well, I’m not sure that’s even possible…” “But what if it was?” “I . . . uh . . . I guess I’d say . . . yes. I mean, if we’re playing the imagination game and all, I’d tell you that I’d say a definite yes to being big.” “That’s what I hoped you’d say, Michael.” “But all of this is even crazier than thinking you’re going to win the lottery, you know?” “Sometimes, someone wins the lottery, Michael. But remember, it’s always the someone that has bought a ticket. We each have to take the first step. Please remember me when you are making choices later on tonight.” After his last statement Tommy walked away. He didn’t even look back. He strolled to the other side of the hall and sat down at a table with four or five other guys. Michael was definitely glad the bizarre dude had moved on. The conversation had been beyond weird. Michael was still trying to figure out what it all meant, but he definitely got the gist of the last part – the line about remembering Tommy when he made decisions. Tommy was making it clear that he wanted to be Michael’s big brother. That was definitely not happening, now. Not after such a bizarre conversation. Michael was baffled, yes, but, at the same time, there was also something germinating in his mind – something fueled by the fact that Tommy was the only guy in the fraternity to call him by his real name. Everyone else followed big Matt’s lead and called him Mouse, but Tommy always used his real name. Michael’s confused thoughts were suddenly interrupted when he sensed a large object beside him. “God, I can already feel the tip of my cock pressing into the back of your throat, little Mouse.” “You were mean to Tommy.” Michael didn’t know where this statement came from, but as soon as he noticed Matt was standing beside him he suddenly had the desire to defend the other guy. It didn’t make sense, but Michael just knew, inside, that he didn’t like the way Matt treated Tommy. He was also still pissed at the big man for not telling him he couldn’t be his big brother. “Naw, Mouse, TC and I go way back. You didn’t know him before. He was quite different. He can handle the truth. He’s let himself go to shit. I wasn’t being mean, I was just being honest. Now let me see those pouty lips that are going to be wrapped around my cock in about two hours. Let’s see that throat of yours swallow – like your face is being plowed hard. I’m already boning up, dude – just thinking about face-fucking you. Janice is gone for the weekend so I’m going to need a little more servicing than usual. You might need to work that jaw out some before tonight. I’m going to be in a feisty mood.” “You’re a pig, Matt. And an asshole.” “You think so, Mouse? You get all chummy with TC and that made you a little bold? Well, remember he doesn’t have big hard pecs that can smash your head against the mattress the way you like. He also doesn’t have massive guns that can press into your face until you squirt. Yeah, I can see that reminding you of all my huge assets can make a certain part of you rise to the occasion. I’m going to have to punish that mouth of yours, tonight, for calling me names. Remember, you can choose TC as your big brother, but you’ll still be my little cocksucker. You couldn’t walk away from my muscles even if you wanted to. I’ve got you wrapped around my muscled pinkie and it’s probably stronger than your entire body.” Matt knew exactly what to say to turn Michael on. The smaller dude tried desperately not to give into his desires, but hearing the big man talk was just too sexy and masculine. Michael often wondered if he liked the abuse – if it turned him on - and that made him very disgusted, but when Matt was standing close and talking all alpha it instantly made Michael hard and unable to think straight. “As I walk away, Mouse, take a look at my huge back and remember you don’t even come close to matching my size. The view will probably make you want to spurt something awful.” Michael closed his eyes. He did not want to see Matt’s huge frame walk away. He knew every contour of the big man’s body and also realized he was powerless against its control over his cock. He avoided looking for maybe two seconds and then he quickly opened his eyes – in time to see Matt inhale deeply as he walked away, forcing his enormous shoulders to jut out even wider. By this point Michael was fully hard. He was immediately ashamed by his lack of control – his intense desire for the wrestler. At the same time, he looked forward to being in bed with Matt later on. By this point the assignment ceremony had begun. Michael stayed exactly where he was, afraid that moving might send his cock into orgasm. He watched as the first few pledges were called to the front of the hall and wrote names on paper and then placed them in a ceremonious cup. The fraternity president would then read the name in silence and then ask the potential big brother if he accepted the job of forming the new pledge in the ways of the fraternity. It was a little unnerving, since the big brother could say no. Everyone, however, had already made connections with potential candidates, gotten affirmation, and knew they’d be assigned their choice. Everyone, that is, except Michael. He was sweating a little as his brain desperately tried to figure out what to do. He thought the best idea would be to put Matt’s name down – thinking the president would not want to make a big deal about the situation in front of everyone and would just ask Matt in the same manner. Michael figured it would all then be sorted out after the ceremony and he could choose someone else. That sounded like a good plan to him. “Mouse Adams.” There was a soft chuckle from the crowd as the president used Michael’s nickname when it was his turn to come forward. Michael could feel his face turn beet read, but he forced his feet to propel him forward. He was so pissed at Matt for creating that nickname. If even the damn fraternity president was using it, then there was definitely no hope of it ever going away. Michael wanted desperately to run out the doors of the hall and never come back. He could feel the anger rising in his chest as he moved through the crowd. He glanced up, however, and caught Tommy Cole’s gaze. There was something in the dude’s eyes that was so reassuring – so empowering. It was like Tommy was helping Michael be strong. The smaller man kept the gaze for a few seconds and then turned to the task of writing down his choice for big brother. He didn’t hesitate. He printed the name and placed it in the cup. The president took the slip and spoke. “Our pledge, Mouse Adams, asks that brother Tommy Cole join him in his journey to become a member of Delta Kappa. What say you, brother?” “I accept the invitation from Michael Adams and promise to form him in the ways of our brotherhood.” Tommy’s voice was confident and seemed to fill the room. Hearing his real name spoken in the hall seemed to unleash a hidden pride within Michael. It had been the fact that Tommy always called him by his real name that made the pledge choose him as his big brother. Memory of the earlier bizarre conversation still lingered in Michael’s head, but he was still confident in his choice. Tommy showed him a respect that other members of the fraternity didn’t. That had to mean something. As was the custom, Michael went and stood beside his new big brother. The president continued to call out names, but Tommy spoke under his breath to his new little brother beside him. “Meet me in the gym at six tomorrow morning. Operation ‘Make Michael Big’ begins then. Don’t ask questions, just do as your big brother asks.” Michael glanced up at his new big brother and was immediately shocked. Tommy’s pudgy face seemed different. His jawline was chiseled – like he was a different man. Michael blinked his eyes and shook his head. It didn’t matter, however - Tommy’s face definitely looked different, like he was buff underneath a strong chin – instead of the dough-boy fat that surrounded his torso. Tommy noticed the confused look on Michael’s face. “What is it, Michael?” “Um . . . your face looks different. It looks . . . uh . . . I don’t know . . . strong and muscular.” This made Tommy smile and then he turned back to watch what was happening at the front of the hall. Not another word was spoken between the two men for the rest of the night. Tommy seemed to disappear as soon as the ceremony was over. Later that night, Michael ended up in big Matt’s room and after sucking the wrestler off he lay beside the passed-out behemoth only thinking about how buff Tommy’s face had seemed at that earlier moment.

Part 3 When Jack got to Jason's room, he was astonished, but not shocked at what he found. He knew from deep down in his newly muscled body, that whatever Jason had become, he was going to be magnificent and beyond the realm of what is normally possible. He knew that Jason was no longer what most would classify as human. Hell, even Jack himself, was no longer normal and barely human. He felt superior and God like to anyone, including the muscle beasts that he was able to control. The constant feeling of that kind of superiority kept his cock hard and his mind and body at an optimal level of existence. He did know however that since Jason was able to make the changes in him let alone all of the other minions, that Jason was The supreme being and Jack knew somewhere deep down inside him, that his Uncle was almost at the same level as Jason. When Jack looked at his former friend, for a split second, he saw his Uncle Roy, the same one that busted through the barn door and ran into the fields, but he knew deep down that this was Jason. He could see it in his eyes, the same eyes that Jack had looked into every night for the last few years. Even after what had just happened to him, it was very hard for Jack to believe what he was looking at and he had never in his wildest dreams would have thought that anyone could ever be as huge as his Jason or his Uncle were. Each of them were colossal beings meant to be worshiped. He knew that deep in his soul. But this Jason was not the same Jason that was Jack and Roy’s friend, because the Jason lying in this bed, correction, beds, (4 to be exact end to end in a square), looked like the largest man on the planet and the once pale, flabby 60 year old doctor, looked like a bronze God in his twenties with muscles bulging everywhere. Right here, right now, Jason could go out and completely conquer the world and there would be no one that could match his size and strength to defeat him. He was completely massive with so much muscle that he was without a doubt, the most muscular man in the world. He laid there with the multiple covers covering his lower body because one sheet wouldn't suffice. He was shirtless and probably naked since there was no gown or clothes for the matter that would cover him...anywhere. For the first time since his own change, Jack felt insignificant. Still even with all his muscle, Jason didn’t look like he would be incapacitated. He moved freely and even sat up in bed. He had an amazing amount of mobility with kind of mass that he had. Jack secretly anticipated seeing Jason stand before him so that he could serve him, but he knew that that time would eventually come and he needed to be patient. Jason’s body was omitting the same sent as Uncle Roy's had been which caused every male that came in contact with it to go into their own orgasmic coma causing them to involuntarily cum. The scent was definitely floral and while intoxicating, it was manageable to Jack for now. As well as not only filling the air with the intoxicating stench, Jason was also radiating as if his skin was glowing. He no longer had any hair on his body and he was completely bald. His skin had a silky smooth oily sheen to it as like it had just been rubbed in oil, but Jack knew it was his natural flesh albeit as natural as Jason was to himself. His body was producing the oil, which was part of the scent. The shine of the oil only helped to enhance Jason’s immaculate body. Even with his own change, which Jack realized that it had made him immune to the orgasmic stupor, he still was completely enthralled with the God before him and the insatiable lust inside him teetering on the edge of losing control. Jason’s body was quite literally a mountain of muscle. Even after seeing Roy’s huge massive body, Jack was sure that Jason was much larger than his Uncle. He was easily 3 times bigger than Uncle Roy. Jack guessed that when Jason finally did stand erect, he would be about 18 to 20 feet tall and as wide as the length of a small car. His head was now the size of huge beach ball and his face was chiseled to gorgeous perfection. His looks were the same as before, but different in that anything that was an asset to him before was enhanced 10 fold and areas that weren’t previously kind to him, were changed to glorious beauty. Any and all imperfections were erased and replaced with the features of a true God. Jason just sat there watching his new creation and soon to be lover admiring its maker’s incredible body and godlike existence. He sat quietly, in appreciation, letting Jack take it all in, for Jason knew what was yet to become. Jack’s vision traveled south from Jason’s face as he noticed his neck was enormous, as it melted into his shoulders with traps that were literally obscene. Then Jason had involuntarily flexed his shoulder and neck muscles just by moving his head and the thickness of them increased by about 8 inches all over, exploding in the mass of a most muscular pose, but he wasn’t even trying to flex them. That was just the natural use of his muscles doing that and the thought of that enthralled the boy. Jack moaned in an uncontrolled ecstasy as he felt a large glob of precum shoot out of his cock and land on one of the beds that the mountain was on. He could feel himself losing more and more control over his own body, the longer he was in there with his friend and instead of fighting it, he let it energize him. What normally would have put anyone else into the orgasmic stupor was only feeding Jack’s own power and strength inside him. He could feel his muscles gaining power and size, but in a very slow manner. He could feel the superiority of his new self, replacing his former meek human form. It was as if he was in a constant state of growth and controllable orgasms. Jason just smiled at the added appreciation of his new subject and at the thought of what was yet to come. Jack took his finger and wiped up some of his juice off the covers and sucked on his finger as he continued his visual quest of his new master. Jason’s upper torso from shoulder to shoulder must have been somewhere between 6 to 8 feet across. Each one of his pecs on his chest was about as large as a truck tire, and he guessed that they were hard as granite, but pliable to the touch. They were perfectly chiseled into mounds that a normal sized person could sit on and not even cover the pec. Jack could see the strands of each muscle that combined to make out Jason’s chest. Each pec also had a large baby bottle nipple that hung down from their weight and there was a small bead of a milky substance dangling from each one before it would drip down onto his stomach as it found a river bed of an ab and then it would slowly travel down the crevices of his body as it miraculously absorbed back into him. His abs were just as amazing and completely inhuman, as there were a total of 12 of them. 6 on each side, wait…either it was the way he was laying or Jason actually had a small extra one his left side, just under his left pec, making it a total of 13. Each ab was like someone had laid out a bunch of Italian sausages, starting with the smallest just under his pecs and then each one longer than the one before, across his stomach as those were so large and the valleys in between them were deep enough that Jack thought even with his new colossal cock, he could actually fuck Jason’s abs. More precum shot from his cock up and onto his own muscled chest. Again he licked it off like licking the batter of a cake. Then Jack’s eyes traveled to Jason’s mammoth hands that lay in front of him on his lap. It was amazing, but wasn’t uncanny that both hands were huge, with each finger being enormous and thick. Each hand was larger than a large Frisbee and his two middle fingers were as large as normal sized bottles of water. They could have fucked a normal person, giving them the likeness of a huge 9” thick cock fucking them mercilessly. In each finger, you could see the tendons moving them like muscles under the skin and the actual muscles in his hands were cut and thick which give them just as much of a muscular appearance as the rest of him. There was no doubt in Jack’s mind that Jason could literally crush someone’s head with just has bare hands and he wouldn’t even need to exert much pressure. Jack looked further up Jason’s arms as he realized that his arms looked almost like tree limbs, having stands and mounds of tendons and muscles looking like the bark of a tree. His forearms were incredibly thick and larger than a Two, 2 liter bottles at their thickest point. Jack was sure that the power of his forearms only enhanced Jason’s super strength of the thickest, largest and most defined upper arms of anyone anywhere in the world. His upper arms were as big as a large sack of potatoes with muscles that lumped out to near obscene gestures without even flexing them. His biceps alone looked like there was more than just one muscle. The man actually had triple biceps on each arm. Jack longed to be held in those arms and for a third time, Jack closed his eyes in ecstasy as he shot a large wad of precum, this time actually spraying across Jason’s chest. That was what Jason was waiting for and he flexed his arms in the largest display of a bicep pose ever. His upper arms went from circumference of 30” to over 43” around with so much muscle and power that the stiffing of his muscles from the flex cause a sonic wave of “Pollination” as Jason would later call the phenomenon, which caused those anywhere within the area to go into the orgasmic bliss and begin their own regeneration process into muscular beasts like himself, though they would always be smaller than Jason, Roy or Jack as they would be the drones or “seedlings”. This wave flowed over everyone and everything on the seventh floor of the hospital, causing all of those that were or weren’t already in a orgasmic stupor to fall under the spell. The only one that still seemed somewhat immune was Jack. Jack turned around to see all the men on the floor, each spewing volley after volley of cum until their balls were dry and then they began to grow. Slowly, but noticeably their bodies increased in size and musculature, ebbing when they were all around the size of a Mr. Universe. By now with all of the pheromones hitting everywhere in the hospital, all of the men were now in their state of change and growth. Jack turned back around to see Jason still in the double bicep pose and what seemed to be in some sort of trance of his own. Then Jack noticed movement under the sheets. It was coming from in between the two 6 feet long and 3 feet high cylindrical mounds of what Jack could only deduce were Jason’s legs. The movement began to rise higher and higher, pulling the sheets toward the center of Jason’s body. Jack knew that this was Jason’s cock, but as the sheets grew higher, the width of what was beneath it seemed to expand as well, as it just kept rising, 2 feet, 3 feet, 6 feet, now over Jason’s head, and it didn’t stop until it was about 8 feet high off of the bed. The sheets had now been pulled off of Jason’s legs from the outside in, as his cock rose to it’s flag pole status. As Jason’s legs were revealed to Jack, he noticed that even though they were still made of flesh and muscle, the looks of them were that of 2 huge oak tree trunks. The muscles in them were so extreme that they contorted Jason’s legs to that of the mighty oak. It was freakish, but incredibly sexy and erotic at the same time. Then something even more extraordinary began to happen. Jason’s flag pole of a cock began to come back down and towards Jack to the end of the bed. The scene looked like a Cobra that had been erect and ready to strike, but was now coming forward and down to slither toward its meal. For a moment Jack thought to run, but he realized that he couldn’t. The wave that was emulating off of Jason’s body was holding him there; its power wrapped around Jack and held him rigid and in an orgasmic bliss as it caressed him sensually. He was helpless to fight as he watched Jason’s cock began to become unhooded from the sheet. The cock head of it was as large as a normal man’s head and it had a white pungent liquid flowing slowly out of it. The head and the rest of the cock were as slick and shiny as the rest of Jason’s body and it was as muscular as his legs, arms and torso; so muscular that it resembled a tree, or more so, it was like that of a wooded vine; an enormous vine that began to extend away from the bed and slither under Jack’s legs. As its skin touched Jack’s, more currents of pleasure soared through Jack. He lost all fear of the monstrosity of it all as he became even harder and more excited. He was elated, completely giving over his body to the vine and its owner, as it slithered up between his thighs and separating Jack’s ass crack traveling up and around Jack’s back, arms and torso as it entwined him in its warm sensual hug. Then the head of the cock stopped right in front of Jack’s face, as if it were looking at him, studying him. Jack was intrigued and wanted a taste of the white liquid that flowed out of it. Thus, it was as if the cock knew of his wishes, it moved forward enough for Jack to lick the piss slit and capture and drink down some of the liquid. The second the liquid touched Jacks tongue, he orgasmed in huge sprays of cum all over the bed, the room and Jason. Then as he swallowed the nectar, Jack’s body hit a growth spurt as if the nectar had fertilized him. His entire body gained another 4 inches everywhere and he roared at the blissful feeling it gave him. This caused the other, lesser seedlings to answer Jack’s roar with a roar of their own. He instinctively knew that he was becoming a second master to the seedlings. The vine cock then began to loosen its hold on Jack, but only enough accommodate his new growth. Jack noticed Jason, who was still in his trance, smile and then the cock head inched closer to Jack’s mouth, resting itself just shy of his lips. The flow had stopped so Jack could not get any more of the nectar. That is when Jason began to speak, but in a language that Jack had never heard before, “ytilatrommi fo kao gnorts eht fo ratcen eht of tifg eht evieceR .elcnu dna dneirf ruoy ekil ,lla ot doG a emoceb lliw uoy dna oZ fo nedarg eht fo eno emoceb ot won era ouY” Over and over Jason kept saying the same thing in a monotone voice, but with the bass of a thousand drums. Jack could physically feel the words hitting his chest. Jason’s cock head began to leak out more nectar. This time though it had a greenish tint to it. Again, instinctively, Jack knew that he needed to ingest the liquid and he opened his mouth to receive the nectar. The entire time, Jason kept reciting the same gibberish over and over, but as Jack drank the liquid, his hearing began to become muffled and his brain began to reorganize the words that Jason was uttering. Jack continued to hear, “dna oZ fo nedarg eht fo eno emoceb ot won era ouY …” but then it began to change. “you will become a God to all, like your friend and uncle. Receive the gift of the nectar of the strong oak of immortality. You are now to become one of the Garden of Zo and you will become a God to all, like your friend and uncle…” Holy Fuck…It was beginning to make sense. Everything that Jason was saying was backwards, but now Jack was able to understand him. The words comforted and empowered Jack. The green nectar was a decipher for those of the Garden of Zo. It aided in knowing the language and the creation of one to become a God of Zo, but it did not fully explain who these God’s were. Images of other Gods of Zo came to Jack’s mind. Thousands of incredibly huge and muscular Gods with various specialties of their own, but all of them were beings of the Garden. Jason was already a God of Zo and his specialty was the vines with the strength of the mighty oak tree. Jack knew that Jason was the strongest of the Gods and he was honored to be the recipient of that gift of his friend. He knew that when a God gives himself to make another, that recipient not only will have his own specialty, but he will empower the specialty of his maker. His Uncle Roy, however seemed to be on his way to becoming a God of Zo, but there was something that wasn’t quite right about him. He didn’t know what his Uncle’s specialty was, but it seemed wild and untamed. Still, Jack was definitely becoming another incredibly strong God of Zo and he was excited to find out his what his own specialty would be. Jack understood what Jason was and he began to understand what had happened to Uncle Roy. But there were pieces missing about Roy’s existence. Jack understood that he, like Roy and Jason was becoming less human. Now…he was becoming something more than himself, something more than any human on earth, something only a God could be…and he was finding his destiny…and it was magnificent.

‘You mean you know?’ ‘You are a werewolf aren’t you Wade? OH GAWD I HOPE YOU ARE, I admit it excites me.’ Brad shows the tent in his pants as Wade laughs. He shakes his head left and right and Brad frowns. ‘No I am not a wolf man. I am similar to that though. I should have sensed your appetite before and now I know you will be tough to fend off. Like I said, I will show you where I live.’ ‘I can’t wait that long Wade, I want to see you change. Can’t you give me a preview?’ ‘Oh hell no, not here. I can’t control it here, it would ransack this whole floor probably.’ Brad’s infatuation leads him to decide to cancel his trip back home so he can fly to be with Wade. He tells Gabe and his wife that he needs to make an additional trip to visit an old friend, which isn’t exactly wrong actually. Brad and Wade arrive in Oregon by the next morning. The two men are now kissing often and talking freely with each other as they take a taxi to the outskirts of Portland. Brad laughs as he realizes that Wade got a house in the country in case something were to happen. Wade holds Brad’s hand as he directs him into his home. The spacious layout makes Brad wonder exactly what Wade is. The furniture is sparse and everything looks nailed down. He turns to Wade and puts his free hand on his chin and rubs it. ‘Soo…..what are you sexy creature? Do you have a lair for your transformation?’ ‘Actually I do genius. It won’t be long before you will know either. We need to get some sleep first because I can’t change without energy.’ Wade shows Brad a guest room, but he doesn’t seem to want to go there. ‘I’m not sleeping in there Wade. I made special plans to come here, I want to be with you.’ ‘I don’t trust you man. You will try to make me change before I am ready.’ ‘So it does depend on physical attraction. Hehe thanks for telling me.’ Wade rolls his eyes and points his finger at Brad. ‘No funny stuff Brad. I know you want the beast to be unleashed, but it isn’t safe.’ ‘Okay (crosses fingers behind his back).’ The two men crawl into the big bed in Wade’s bedroom as they take their shirts off. Wade kisses Brad goodnight and goes to sleep. Brad lays there waiting to make a move as he pulls his pants off and strokes his cock. He leans over to rub it against Wade’s back. The sleeping stud moans a little as Brad begins to kiss and lick his lower back. He slowly lowers Wade’s undies to reveal a huge bubble butt which surprises Brad as he makes noises. He leans down to start running his tongue along each cheek before parting them to flick his tongue on Wade’s hole. The sleeping stud growls lowly as Brad strokes his cock a little more. His need to see Wade’s cock overwhelms him as he pulls the man’s drawers completely off and sees a thick meaty rod waiting to be serviced as it begins to pool pre on the bed. Wade begins to sweat profusely as the beads start to move down his body. Brad’s anticipation for Wade’s transformation becomes overwhelming as he grabs the sleeping man's big rod and swallows it down tasting the thick pre flowing from the slit. Wade begins to convulse as he sleeps and squeezes the sides of the mattress. The eager sucker rubs his friend’s stomach as he feels it starting to react. He looks over as the muscles begin to quiver before they start to stretch. Wade agonizes as his belly expands wider. Brad moans feeling each individual abdominal disappear underneath the thick ball of hairy muscle rising from within. It eventually hides Wade’s head from Brad’s view as he continues to worship the huge cock. The admirer moves his hands down towards Wade’s growing quads as they begin filling out and pushing themselves further apart. They thicken into giant hulking trunks of solid mass. The dark black hair on Wade’s body begins to thicken quickly covering up his entire outer layer of skin. The change intensifies as Wade gives in to his change letting his arms and pecs explode in size before his own voice disappears under the tension. Brad continues working over the giant cock and moans louder as he feels it growing from within his lips. The thick muscles start stretching even wider forcing Brad to pull it out of his mouth so he can run his tongue along the sides. He reaches down to feel Wade’s balls expanding in his grasp feeling them stretch as the sack tightens. He can feel them filling up with massive amounts of cum. It is at this point that Brad realizes that Wade is getting closer to the edge. Brad manages to take a peek up at Wade’s face as he can hear him making growling noises as his teeth change and his hands and feet begin to change their appearance. Each finger and toe begins sprouting huge claws which frightens Brad only slightly. It is at this point that Brad risks everything to devour the coming river now flowing into Wade’s giant cock. The human side of him is starting to disappear as the bear from within begins to take over as his face loses its human qualities as a snout forms out of nowhere and his human ears fall off. New bear ears form off the sides of his head as he now resembles a black bear. The bear growls loudly as Brad sucks down the huge volcano of cum now erupting from its cock. He gulps down as much as possible as the white goo flows down his chest. The bear begins to get agitated as it moves away from him before turning around as if it is going to attack. Brad rushes to the doorway of the bedroom before turning to yell out, ‘WADE ITS ME BRAD! PLEASE YOU HAVE TO KNOW IT IS ME!’ The animal stops as its black eyes stare him down as it gets quiet and cocks its head sideways. It closes its mouth before turning to jump out one of the bedroom windows. Brad rushes over to see it jump down on the ground and go rushing through the forest behind the house. He quickly pulls his shorts back on to go out the front door of the house and into the forest to find the animal. He can’t hear anything now which he finds quite peculiar and after several minutes gives up the search. He sits down close to a tree to catch his breath and realizes that he is feeling a bit lightheaded. Without knowing it, a man has shown up out of nowhere and is standing above him. Before he can make any kind of movement, the man grabs him and holds him down on the ground. He covers Brad’s mouth and begins to say something. ‘Shh, no need to be making a ruckus. I know you are looking for Wade.’ (mumbling under the man’s hands) ‘Stop doing that, if you will calm down, I will let you talk.’ Brad nods as he stares up at the man. The man lets go of him as Brad sits up. ‘You were at the reunion weren’t you? You were one of the guys Wade was with.’ ‘That is correct man. You did a very bad thing you know? Him being loose like this is dangerous. Our community will not tolerate outsiders fucking things up.’ ‘I couldn’t help it he makes me crazy with lust for some reason.’ The man smells the cum on Brad’s chest as his own hazel eyes grow larger. ‘You are trying to make yourself change aren’t you little man? It isn’t that simple fortunately. You have to be compatible with your mate.’ ‘When will I know if I am? I am feeling really dizzy right now.’ The man laughs at him. ‘Well it is a slow process, but you will start to feel something change inside you in a relatively short timeframe.’ The man looks up in the sky and starts to make strange noises. ‘You better move along man, I can’t control this much longer. I have been holding back my change since I saw you here. I….(stretch)….oh shit…(shirt rip)….too fucking…(muscles growing)….late (pants split)’ Brad jumps up and rushes over behind a huge bush nearby as he watches the man commence into his transformation. The change he is witnessing begins to turn him on somehow as he feels a sense of ecstasy rushing inside him. The man only groans slightly as he grows taller feeling his bones crack and his boots explode under the pressure of his new paws. Brad moans as the man’s clothes rip and shred completely off as an insane amount of muscle begins appearing all over his body. The man practically moans as his body hair changes over to fur as he sprouts a huge brown tail to accompany his shiny brown body. Remarkably his face remains the same until the end when his muzzle finally sprouts causing him to anguish in pain and he voice changes to howls. Brad’s excitement causes him to accidentally rustle the bush too much which attracts the giant beast immediately. Before he can try to get away, the werewolf snatches him up into its grasp and starts to growl at him loudly. ‘Ohh dear gawd please mister wolf, I’m not ready to die yet. You have such amazing fur and muscles though. Can I at least touch you for a second?’ Brad reaches around to feel the beast’s huge hairy back and moans deeply feeling its incredible thickness and power. To his surprise, the hazel-eyed beast smiles at him and reaches down to breathe down on his face and starts running its tongue up and down his chest. The feeling makes Brad nearly go limp in the werewolf’s arms. It starts to run its claws along his legs and arms teasing him like its going to rip into him. Brad surprisingly moans as the beast smells him again before laying him down on the ground. Brad looks up into its eyes and wonders if the man is fully aware of what is going on. ‘You have some kind of control inside there don’t you?’ The werewolf almost smirks and even nods at him before running its tongue along his neck. Brad nearly loses his composure as he fears what the beast is up to. Without warning, the werewolf digs its teeth slowly into Brad’s flesh penetrating and drawing blood. It places a giant paw on his mouth as it holds its position as the blood slowly trickles down his chest. Then it digs its other claw into his left leg as Brad begins to lose consciousness. It picks Brad up after finally conquering him and puts his lifeless body on its back as it gets on all fours. It begins to move at a steady pace through the forest making sure that he doesn’t fall off. It appears that Brad’s life may turn out to be extraordinary after all. End of Part 2

‘Dude come on we are going to be late.’ ‘I can’t do it Gabe. I can’t face those people. They never talked to me in school so why should I subject myself to their lies.’ ‘Oh come on Brad. That was over ten years ago. Not everyone is going to be like that anymore.’ ‘You don’t know that.’ Brad stands behind Gabriel as he leaves his hotel room and turns. ‘You look fine. They don’t give a shit about your clothes. You need to just relax and go with the flow man. You might even meet someone there that interests you.’ ‘I doubt there are many gay men in our class Gabe. I mean….’ Gabe walks up to him and smacks him across his head and shutters. ‘Dude you are not the only one trust me. Hell you thought I was for the longest time, but you found out quickly that you were wrong.’ Brad’s face turns red as he looks down at the floor and runs at Gabe. They tumble to the ground and wrestle around a little laughing a bit. They eventually get back up and close the hotel room door to go downstairs into the main lobby. There are already hundreds of people there as Gabe spots his wife and turns back to Brad. ‘Okay man I found Charlene, I will talk to you later. Have fun please.’ He quickly walks over to her as Brad goes to sit at the bar. After downing a few cocktails, he spots a guy that he recognizes slightly from school and gets up to go talk to him. The man has broad shoulders and is in good shape even though he is a bit on the slender side. Brad taps him on his right shoulder and the man turns around. His black colored eyes surprise Brad since he has never seen that before. The man was talking with two other similar sized guys. ‘Hi uhhh you seen familiar to me…..(awkward pauses)….nevermind I just make a fool of myself all the time.’ The man smiles at him and says, ‘hi Brad it has been quite a while I know.’ He tells the other two men that he will talk to them later and they move over to the other side of the lobby. ‘Uhhhh I can’t remember your name. I think it started with a W.’ ‘That is right. It’s Wade actually.’ He puts his hands on Brad’s shoulders and then gives him a nice firm hug. Brad moans softly as he rubs Wade’s back and feels his tight muscles. They let go of each other. ‘Let’s go inside and find a seat Brad and maybe we can discuss things.’ Brad nods as Wade wraps his arm around him and directs him to one of the tables. They sit as Wade looks him in the eyes and smiles. Brad blushes a bit. ‘You were very nice to me back then Brad I have never forgotten that. I was going through some rough stretches. The pain of puberty was quite overwhelming for me. People constantly picked on me for my differences.’ ‘Yeah I remember you made noises and it baffled people. I always sensed something about you though. You always intrigued me. Well actually I think I was attracted to you. You were really sexy even with your glasses on.’ Wade smirks and leans over to hug Brad again. Brad nearly falls out of his chair to embrace Wade. The two men rub each other’s backs slowly before letting go again. At this point, Brad is beginning to feel how he did those years ago. It is almost a curious attraction. He starts to scan Wade’s body noticing slight differences from other men like his thick shoulders and black colored eyes. ‘Have you always had black colored eyes Wade?’ Wade gets a little uncomfortable when he asks, but answers anyway. ‘Well they started out as green, but when I turned 18 they started turning black. I know that is strange but I can’t help my genetics.’ Brad notices Wade’s big fingers and clasps his hands in them. Wade tries to resist but Brad persists even rubbing them. The black-eyed man begins to wonder if this was a mistake. ‘Maybe we should stop this here Brad. You haven’t seen me in over a decade and things have…..happened to me that are strange.’ Brad gets more intrigued by his answers and rubs his forearms. ‘Please Wade, you have always fascinated me. I know you like men because I sensed it back then. I just forgot about you until now for some reason.’ Wade again tries to pull his hands away from his body, but Brad won’t stop with his persistence. ‘I….can’t do this with you Brad. I….don’t want to hurt you, you were so good to me and I also forgot about you until now and…..I also found you attractive. Seeing you here sitting in front of me and rubbing my arms makes me feel like this was supposed to happen which scares me.’ ‘What is wrong Wade? You know I will try to help you with whatever you’re dealing with. I tried back then and I will try now.’ ‘This isn’t the same as our school days Brad. It is extremely complicated and incredibly dangerous.’ ‘I don’t care Wade. Seeing you again makes me want you. Are you dating any of those guys you were with?’ Wade pauses for a few seconds and wonders if he should lie about it since he is tired of being alone dealing with his issue and decide to tell Brad the truth. ‘I’m actually single Brad, but dating me will not be the best thing for you. I am not exactly boyfriend material.’ Brad begins to wonder if he is some kind of criminal. ‘Are you an ex-con or on the run from someone or something? Come on Wade, stop trying to run me off it isn’t going to work.’ ‘I…..think we should just be friends Brad, us being in a relationship could lead to major problems for you. You are right about me being different because I am.’ Brad pauses and wonders what he means by that. Instead of being deterred though, he feels compelled to find out how he is different from other men. ‘You are just making me want to be with you more Wade. How are you different? Please tell me.’ Brad sits closer to him and rubs his back. Wade groans a little as he realizes that he is making it worse by saying more. ‘I think we will have to continue this conversation after the reunion Brad. I can’t do this now. You can come see me tomorrow at room 411.’ Wade gets up and leaves to go find those two men again. Brad sits there and ponders the conversation. After a couple of hours, he leaves to return to his room ironically on the fourth floor. He realizes he never told Wade which room he was in and writes a note. He passes his room and slips the paper under his door. As he walks off, the door opens and he hears Wade’s voice. ‘Brad come back. I am ready to continue that conversation.’ Brad turns and sees Wade standing there shirtless with his firm chest all hairy with black fur nicely tucked in between his abs. ‘I….uhhh okay give me a minute. I will grab a drink from my room.’ ‘No need for that Brad, I have drinks. I am actually alone so don’t worry.’ ‘Ohh alright, well uhhh okay I’m coming.’ Wade winks and puts his arms out ready to embrace Brad. Brad slowly walks over to him as Wade hugs him tightly and even kisses his head. Brad does the same as the two men stand there and moan lightly. Wade looks him in the eyes and reaches in to kiss his lips. Brad squeezes Wade’s back and moans louder as the men quickly realize their attraction is for real. They quickly move inside as Brad pulls his shirt off and moves over to the bed. Wade pushes him on to the pillows and begins to rub his chest and legs on Brad’s. This again intrigues him as he has never met a man that does these things. After a few more minutes of rubbing, Brad starts to take his pants off but not before Wade stops him. ‘Wait, we need to stop buddy. This was such a bad decision on my part, this isn’t safe especially here. I can be so careless sometimes.’ Brad looks at him puzzled. ‘What are you talking about, I really want you Wade. Oh my gawd you turn me on so much. I find your body hot. I love all of that hair and you have nice muscles too.’ ‘I know…..but I can’t do this here in the hotel. It just isn’t safe. Damnit, I like you too Brad…..(bites his lip)…..shit I shouldn’t do this but I want you to come see me where I live.’ ‘Definitely I hope it isn’t too far though, are you still around?’ ‘Actually I’m not, I moved to the west coast. Just find time when you can to come visit me.’ ‘Can we talk since I am here now? I just want to get to know you better.’ ‘Okay Brad, we can do that.’ The two men sit up on the bed as Brad can’t help but to rub Wade’s hairy legs and chest.’ Wade nervously tells him about what happened after school and what he has been doing since. Brad lays his head on Wade’s left shoulder and moans slightly. ‘I….need you to stop touching me Brad……please I can’t do this here.’ ‘I can’t help myself beautiful I am so attracted to you. I have to touch.’ Wade begins to sweat now as his chest begins to glisten. He yanks Brad’s hands off of him and jumps up from the bed. Brad looks shocked. ‘Please Brad please you can’t do this to me. I am trying to focus my energy and you are distracting me. I should make you leave…..but…..(sighs)……I am not like other guys.’ Brad smiles big and nods his head up and down. Wade looks at him and seems surprised. End of Part 1

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?"

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.

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/

"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 NG "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - Inside Zaftig's Lab: The Musclemen Revealed Precis: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable need to receive muscle worship. Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his growing need to receive both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential. To start back at the beginning with Chapter One, click on the link below: "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped October 22nd, 2017 After the bout between Casey and Abdul, the musclemen retired to their separate corners of the compound. The vanquished Abdul, rivulets of dried cum caked to his physique, dragged Pedro along with him back to quarters. “Service me,” he growled. He threw open the door to his room and tossed Pedro onto the floor. Five minutes later, after a satisfying dump and a quick infusion of P21, Abdul was in the center of his room, working out on a speed punching bag hanging from the ceiling. His red, raw fists pummeled the stained leather furiously while Pedro gingerly danced around him, carefully washing the cum off his physique with a wet towel. Occasionally he leaned in and gingerly pressed a warm tongue against the muscle giant’s body, licking the cum-covered muscles respectfully, hoping not to get swatted away. It didn’t happen. Emboldened, he finished cleaning off his god. He took a deep breath, and grabbed ahold of Abdul's musclebutt. "Permission to worship?" he asked hopefully. Abdul grunted, and nodded slightly. Pedro deeply buried his face in the muscleman’s rock hard pillow glutes, feeling the heaviness of iron-like musclebutt cheeks violently knocking his head right and left as Abdul rhythmically punched the bag. This was what his god wanted. He knew this. Abdul said nothing, but slightly arched his back, to better extend his ass and receive the comfort of Pedro’s tongue up his butthole. They lasted like this long into the night, Abdul punching the bag with fury, Pedro probing his tongue deeply into his gyrating asshole, until Abdul reached back, grabbed Pedro by the back of the head, brought him violently around, threw him into the air and forced his massive penis into the teen’s small, hard butt. He fucked the boy mercilessly for about ten minutes, Pedro screaming happily with insane delight, his cries echoing down the corridor, as the giant member pleasurably pounded his butthole into raw meat. When he was near to climax, he pulled out and came about a quart all over Pedro’s writhing, grateful little bottom, grunting deeply as he shot, a bear in the woods. UNGH UNGH UGNH YEAH A moment later he push-kicked Pedro’s butt away. Pedro went sprawling, his hard little bottom covered with cum. “Get out of here,” he snarled, but with something like warmth, or so Pedro thought. “Yes, sir!” Pedro squeaked, and ran for the door. Abdul was asleep in 2 minutes. He dreamed only of revenge. Pedro scampered back to his room, where he masturbated gleefully for the next hour, envisioning a world of musclemen as he worked his pretty little cock into repeated starbursts of cum frenzy. He finally drifted into a woozy, muscle-filled sleep about 3 AM, knowing he’d have to be up by 6 to start breakfast with the compound chefs for the 19 musclemen. It was heaven. He was living in heaven. Lang and Alvarez drifted back to Alvarez’s room, where they posed-and-approved for about 45 minutes before falling asleep on the dais, Alvarez’s cock languidly filling Lang’s mouth, their ripped posers discarded and on the floor. Schumacher, Jin, Washington, Obatu and LeFevre carried the knocked-out Blankenship to his room. Fortunately, P-21 strengthened bones, too, and Blankenship’s black and blue jaw was okay – otherwise, it might well have been shattered by the force of Abdul’s powerful punch. They retired separately to their rooms and reflected on what they’d seen tonight. This Rockland kid was a threat. In their separate quarters all five men jerked off, and thought. And thought. And jerked off. Hearing Pedro’s echoing, ecstatic cries as he was being masterfully buttfucked by Adbul, each man shot muscle cum up and out into the dark, splashing onto their abs, the floor, the ceiling, everywhere. Blankenship, of course, was out for the night. Deep in his knocked cold sleep, he dreamt vaguely of doing endless sets of curls. And squats. Especially squats. He smiled in his sleep, two teeth missing. Tiffany, smug and satisfied and unaware his life was about to drastically change, drifted off. He remembered Casey from the world outside, but it was clear the big dumb muscleboy didn’t remember him. Yet. Eli Meyer, quietly determined to get off on real muscle, and not just fantasy, followed Hension back to his room. He knocked on the door, and Hension, startled, opened up. Meyer smiled. He went in. For the next hour the two men took turns with some heavy butt fucking. In turns, each muscleboy’s big dick met the other’s hard glutes and sweetly receiving butthole as they fucked each other silently in the dark. Finally Hension spoke, even as Meyer ploughed him. “Stinkface me,” he said, emphasizing the words, turning his head back and to the side so that the deaf Meyer could read his lips. It was all he said. It was all he had to say. Meyer nodded agreement, pulled his thick cock out of Hension’s butthole, got up and squatted down onto Hension’s handsome face, burying him in striated, iron glutes. He rotated and jerked his big dick. A few minutes later both men came, cum splashing sloppily onto Hension’s ripped abs, pooling in the deep valleys of muscle. And five minutes after that, both were curled up and asleep on the floor, wrapped deeply into each other’s muscles. In their separate quarters, McIntyre and Duncan, ever quiet and reflective, sat up awhile and listened to the compound’s nocturnal moans and gasps, punctuated by the sounds of the speed bag, and then the butt fucking drifting down the corridors. Finally each man reached into his pouch and jerked off again before hitting the hay. Gunst headed right to the gym. He tooled himself through a punishing biceps workout, doing curls long into the night, then flexing and inspecting. Gotta get these guns bigger, he grumbled to himself. Eventually he crawled off to quarters and to bed, and without jerking off. The others – Chad, Bogarde, and Waring – stood in a darkened corner of the hallway leading from the wrestling room, hungrily sucking one another’s cocks and taking turns butt fucking for an hour or so, before turning in for the night. And in the backs of the minds of all the men on campus were visions of the perhaps-perfect newest member of the club, the young bodybuilder whose gigantic, ripped and raw physique they had gotten their first taste of this evening. Moster, in his quarters, was satisfied. He slept without dreaming. He had to pick up Casey in the cadet dorms mid morning, and bring him back up the hill to his new muscle life. Unaware of the muscle sex going on in the compound behind him, and unaware of how his muscles started it all, a shuttle bus took sole passenger Casey back down the hill the two miles to the cadet dorm near the front gates, where he had been living and training the last two years. ************* Early the next morning, after his usual early morning workout and a breakfast of two steaks, 6 eggs, unbuttered toast, a quart of yogurt and 3 cups of black coffee, Casey went back to his room and packed his few possessions in preparation for his move up the hill to the main compound. His black eye still stung from the night before, but it also looked – well – incredibly hot. Or so Casey thought, inspecting it closely in his mirror. There were six other cadets in the dorm. Five of them gathered to quietly watch him pack up his few belongings, giving him congratulations and good luck and a sad little goodbye party. It was just a few protein bars, a colorful do-rag, a new gym bag (which they all chipped in on) and five slightly torn oversized XXXL-sized jockstraps. Casey knew they went to some trouble to get everything together. He was deeply grateful. But he didn’t know what to say. In truth, Casey hadn’t really gotten to know any of his fellow cadets in the two years he had been in residence in the cadet dorm. It was not from any snobbery, but from shyness and his natural reticence against intimacy in dormitory settings. All the same, apart from Miles Donovan and Ramon Ramon, Casey counted them as among his few friends in the world. “I’m gonna miss you guys,” he said. He sniffed a little. These guys were like him. Lonely, nice boys who had nowhere to go except the gym, and nothing to do but pound their bodies every day, growing big muscles. Over 1450 pounds of burgeoning, testosterone-fueled teen muscle gathered in 10 x 16 square foot room. And there was a lot of emotion in the air. Casey was their hero, and at 310 pounds, and at just 18 years of age, he was already far and away the biggest of all of them. Something had to happen. “You been ready a long time for those dudes,” said Cadet Tommy Rowenstein, a tousled blond middleweight Jewish Tom Sawyer of muscleboy who liked to work on his pecs. “Surprised they didn’t ask you long ago.” “Guess they know best when I’m ready.” “That how you got the shiner, Case?” “Shut up, dick wad.” “Can we come up the hill visit you?” asked Alan Owenbee, a sweet-faced young cadet with a friendly face and a slightly sub par physique that all knew would never develop much further. “Naw, we can’t go up there,” said Cadet Brent Ogden. “You know the rules. Plebes only by invitation. And they never invite us.” He sounded forlorn. “Sure,” said Casey. “You can come. I’ll ask. I’ll get permission. You can all come. We can all train together up there in the big gym.” “Gee, you think? Really??” “Shit, thanks, Case!” “Yeah, thanks!” The boys couldn’t believe the possible good news, and were now almost bouncing with excitement. “I’m gonna work on my guns with ya!” shouted Ogden. The others glanced at Ogden and grinned. An angel-faced kid with red hair, he had nice big muscles for a 15-year old, and surprisingly ripped abs, already weighing in at 185 pounds. He also had a complete inability to filter his speech. They all suspected he was a little slow. “At last, someone even dumber than me, “ Casey thought. No one knew whether or not he had any family; like Casey, Ogden was a foundling. Casey tousled his hair affectionately and zipped up his duffel. “I’ll always work on my guns with you, Brent.” Ogden grinned from ear to ear, his life made. He grew beet red with embarrassment and pleasure and spent the next few minutes inspecting his own biceps, flexing and unflexing them thoughtfully. Another cadet with more promise, and lot more self confidence, Brian Banks, a handsome black-haired extra lean 1950s greaser type turned bodybuilder, watched Casey from the corner, perched on the window seat, his deep-lidded dark eyes half closed. “So, Case, what happened last night?” “I’m not sure yet.” He turned and looked helplessly at all of them. They were waiting for some kind of an answer. “Yeah, Case, what happened?” He knew all the cadets admired and respected him. Overall, they were a pretty good bunch of guys, even if for the most part they had no muscle future. But he could use some friends, if last night’s wrestling match had been any indication of where this was all headed. And he was still thinking about last night. Those bodybuilders up the hill were a wild and crazy bunch. Huge, every one of them, the biggest musclemen Casey had ever seen, or even imagined. And even the younger guys, like that pretty-faced dude Hension, the mute Eli Meyer, and the wide-eyed Lang, seemed to have agenda of their own. And then there was that big mean bull, the Turkish guy, Karim Abdul. And Schumacher, who had growled at him and threatened him. Scary dudes. But hot. The wrestling was fun, though, when he thought about it. Casey had surprised at himself, at how skilled he was, how strong and fast. But then he had learned a lot from Ramon Ramon at Miles Donovan’s, and though Ramon was 3 times his age and far smaller, Ramon could always beat him. So he learned from the best. And – true – a few times when Casey shot his load on the wrestling mat after a bout, Ramon Ramon had joined him. There was something fun, something special about the tough, grizzled old daddy Latin wrestler happily pounding his hairy big meat, lying there next to Casey on a slick, sweat-drenched, stinky wrestling mat. And Casey knew Ramon was straight. No sissy, he. Straight straight straight, with a hot, mean, pretty little wife he fucked hard every night, or so he said. Casey had no reason to doubt him. I wonder how Abdul would do wrestling with Ramon? Casey wondered. And then, after all, all the bodybuilders had shot their loads all over the two of them last night at the end of the wrestling match, all over him and Abdul. He hadn’t expected that. Was it an insult? Or an honor? Casey was still having trouble taking it all in. And what about that punch that Abdul threw at Blankenship? It was awesome. Abdul’s fist shot out like a cannon, catching the handsome, smirking bodybuilder Blankenship right on the point of the chin. Probably broke his jaw. The guy’s feet never touched the ground. He just flew into the air and landed about 20 feet away. And then there was afterwards, with Moster closely inspecting his dick and that little ginger muscledude Tiffany sucking it just to find out how big it really was. Measuring dick size by mouth. It was all pretty weird. And he never even did get to do even a basic posing routine. He wanted to show these guys how much he liked to pose. Maybe he could pose for them later today? Casey really liked to pose. He did it for hours, alone in his room, peering into his crummy full-length mirror, looking for any improvements, and weaknesses, any new veins, any new striations, any sign of lingering babyfat. He wasn’t used to an audience. Casey had never known many people, and he certainly had never competed onstage, even though Miles Donovan had encouraged him to consider it. And now that he had trained hard, lived for training and diet and posing for so many years, now with the Home behind him and all the bullies, he was ready for others to see how big his muscles were. He was ready to pose for admirers. For a crowd. He hadn’t done that yet. So maybe these guys would accept him more if he posed for them? The babyfat was long gone, after all. And he was sure he could learn a few things, too. Maybe get some pointers from that dude Alvarez. He heard that Alvarez and Lang were always practicing their posing. But in any event, Casey now knew, after last night, that just having big muscle wasn’t enough. A big cock was pretty important, too. For the first time he was beginning to feel relieved, even joyful about his huge member. He had always been so embarrassed about it, he could never hide it, it was always prominent in his jeans, in whatever he wore. People could always see it flopping around in his pants, pushing out his fly in an obscene bulge. And he hadn’t found posing trunks that he really fit in yet. Not trunks, at least, that he wasn’t always popping out of, or worse, ripping the fabrics to shreds with his first big hardon. And posing usually gave him a hardon, which he’d have to stop and take care of. He'd shoot pints of milky thick cum against his mirror, and then he'd have to stop and get a roll of paper towels to clean it al up before he could start again. Or else he wouldn't have been able to see his reflection. And the sight of his muscles was what made him cum so ferociously. It would certainly be a challenge onstage, if he ever decided to compete. He had bought a few posers from online, trying them out, checking for the right colors. But so far, everything he had bought was just so….well….ridiculously inadequate. He hadn’t even begun to think about colors. Even if he managed to get the posers up his treetrunk quads, there was no way the simple kiddie-type pouches were able to cover his hefty manfruit. To say nothing of containing his coconut-sized balls. Still. Even so. “Good thing I got this big meat after all. I guess.” He muttered to himself as he walked, bowlegged as always with his bodybuilder waddle, over to the mirror. The cadets watched him as he walked across the small dorm room. “Hunh?” “What’s that, Casey? About your meat?” Ogden looked up, still inspecting his biceps, but suddenly alert to what was going on in the room. Casey looked back at them and pointed down to the sagging bulge that loomed out of the front of his baggies. “I said, it’s a good thing I got this super big meat. All the guys up there are hung huge. It’s important to them. Sergeant Moster showed me.” He thought for a moment. Maybe those dudes knew where to get posers that actually fit? Or maybe they had them made privately? Probably they did. They had to. And certainly from the layout of the place and the size of the gym and the wrestling room, they could afford a few extra yards of reinforced spandex to hold in a few giant cocks. Banks was studiedly casual. He inspected Casey’s black eye a little more closely and nodded, as if a question was answered. “Unh hunh. Bet he did. I heard about Sergeant Rod Moster. Seems he was there too. He give you that black eye?” “Yeah, he’s the dude in charge. He was there. And no, he didn’t give this to me.” Casey turned back and gazed at his package in the mirror. He repeated. “I had to fight one of them.” “Who?” asked Owenbee, breathless and getting hard now. “Abdul. Karim Abdul.” He paused. “You should see him this morning.” “He got a big package, too?” Casey colored, embarrassed. “Yeah, he does. I mean, I didn’t see it. Well, I didn’t see it well. I mean, I didn’t see it close up….” He stopped, confused. The guys were looking at him. “Well, one thing, these are the biggest goddam dudes I ever saw in my life.” “Lookin’ good?” “Fucking awesome. All of them. Moster’s like 7’ tall. No bodyfat. Biceps the size of my head. And…” “Big package?” “Yeah. He has the biggest dick. They say it’s the biggest dick on earth.” Casey turned back and began to flex for himself feverishly in the mirror. He had to get bigger. Banks liked Casey well enough and would miss him in the dorms. Even if the young muscle giant was a little dopey and innocent. Okay, Casey was stupid. Everyone knew it. Dumb as a bag of hammers. But a sweet guy, if you didn’t get on his wrong side. And besides, he’d also long had eyes for Casey’s astonishingly rounded, rock hard glutes, never mind the cock, and now knew he probably wasn’t gonna dip his stick inside the promised land of Casey’s musclebutt for a long time to come. If ever. Or even suck his dick. Maybe some day. Oh, well. Still, he wished Casey well. He was a good dude. He’d stand up for him any time. Now he stood behind him, watching his superwide batwing lats as he posed in the mirror, watching his perfect big round rolling glutes quivering a little in the seat of his stretched-tight pants. “I hear there’s a lot of sex in the main compound,” he said slyly. “Yeah, I guess there is.” Casey slowed down posing, caught Banks’ eye in the mirror, was a little circumspect. Not that he knew what the word meant, but that is what he was at that moment. “No chicks, though?” “No, I guess there ain’t. I didn’t see any last night.” Casey blew out a blast of air, followed by a honk of laughter. The tension eased. He grabbed his duffel and turned around towards the boys. “No chicks!” “Good!” said Ogden, still inspecting his biceps. “Guess I’m big enough. Thanks for the party, guys,” he added. “And the, um….” He gestured to his duffel bag. “….the extra jockstraps…..I can always use them.” “Actually, two of them were already yours. We just re-retrieved them from….somebody…” said Rowenstein. Owenbee turned crimson with shame and embarrassment. “Hey. Thanks. Alan, you were always a good friend. Here. Wait a moment.” Casey put his duffel down, lifted his heavy sweatshirt and kicked out of his baggies, stepping out of them fast and surprisingly easily over his big feet. “I have to get these off fast sometimes, so I cut out the, you know, drawstrings around the pants legs, to make it easier to fit over my shoes. Sometimes I don’t have a lot of time before…..” His voice trailed off. “You know.” Banks nodded, feigning seriousness. “We know.” All the cadets knew that sometimes during workouts Casey suddenly had to shoot a load, and to avoid coating his baggies with splotches of his unusually heavy, copious cumspurts, he ripped off his sweatpants and shot into a bucket that he kept on the side of the gym floor. By the end of the workout, the bucket was often half full. A few of the boys would often sneak away with it afterwards, loving the scent, loving the taste, drinking it all down, hoping it would make them grow into a muscle monster like Casey. “Yeah. We all know,” said Ogden. Owenbee and Rowenstein both nodded seriously. “Yeah, you got a problem, dude.” Rowenstein couldn’t help chuckling a little. “Big problem.” Then they both grinned, their smooth boyish faces lighting up. “I know.” Casey smiled. “So why is it, by the way, all this time I been here, that so many of my jocks go missing?” Shuffling of feet. Heads down. “Aw, Case…..” said Ogden. He stood before them in his sagging, bulging jock. “This one is new, I just got it.” All knew he had to order his jocks and posers online. Standard sizes just didn’t fit, and then the posers just didn’t last. “Here.” He curled his thumbs around the reinforced jock straps on his loins and tugged. His cock popped out and hung free, 10 solid inches of soft thick swaying girth. “Jesus,” breathed Owenbee. Banks was impressed. Ogden just panted. He pulled his new jockstrap down over his massive quads and stepped out of it carefully, lifting each big, smooth foot slowly, and then handing it to Owenbee. “You always been a good friend to me.” Casey teared up a little, but wasn’t so sentimental that he didn’t playfully waggle his penis’ full 10 inch soft, flaccid weight, then whipping it heavily from side to side. Smack! Smack! For a moment he slapped it heavily from quad to quad, and then looked up at Owenbee and Ogden and smiled sweetly. “It’s too big for most jocks,” he explained. “Yes, we’ve noticed,” said Banks, very serious. Owenbee took the jock gratefully, raised it to his nose and took a deep whiff. In his jeans his young teen cock throbbed to life. “Gee, thanks, Casey!” “Don’t mention it.” Casey pulled his baggies back up, covering his cock. “Going commando, Case?” asked Banks. Casey looked at him blankly. “I don’t know what that means.” “You will.” Casey shrugged, and sat down to lace his shoes. “Guess I better be going. Say goodbye to Danny Taylor. Where’s he this morning?” “His mama called. She wanted him back in Santa Barbara. He’ll be back tonight. He said to say goodbye.” He eyed the heavy sagging bulge in Casey’s lap. His cock was aching to get back out again, taste the air, straining the crotch of his sweatpants, pointing downward but twitching, threatening to rise, bulging in the fabric every which way. Banks sniffed a little, seemingly unconcerned, but Casey knew Banks probably missed his buddy Danny, the only cadet in the squad who actually came from a family and a good home. A blond surfer-dude turned bodybuilder, Danny and Brian were always pumping together and then going out looking for girls and to get laid. And unlike The Nineteen up the hill, the young cadets, still not indoctrinated into the squad, could come and go as they pleased. Not that these young muscleboys had anywhere to go….other than the gym and the bars in nearby San Jose, or maybe further up the coast to San Francisco. “Well…..goodbye then. Come and see me.” “Hey, dude. Before you go….give us one last flex?” asked Ogden shyly. “Yeah, dude. Pose for us one more time,” said Owenbee. “Like you used to do before you got so serious.” “Yeah, Case. Go ahead. Let’s see what you got.” That from Banks. Casey looked closely at Banks. “Sure, guys. Yeah. Be glad to.” He stepped back into the room and ripped off his sweatshirt. The muscle cadets crowded around him eagerly. He stood shirtless, his huge muscles gleaming in the morning light. “Here goes. Pow,” said Casey. He flexed a huge right arm bicep and moved his left hand back to the back of his head, ‘doin’ hair’ like the young Tom Platz from 40 years ago. “Wow!” “Jeez, Case, yer bigger than ever!” “Fuckin huge, man!” “That’s “doin’ hair,” dudes. Platz. ‘Doin’ hair,’ ” he repeated. “Can I feel it?” ‘My hair?” “No, dude….” “He wants to feel your muscles, Casey,” Banks explained, with exaggerated patience. “Oh. Sure.” Casey thought a moment. “Yeah! Sure! Come on!” Owenbee stepped forward eagerly and grabbed Casey’s biceps. His fingers ran over the vascular triple-heads. “Sure is nice!” he yelled. “How big?” He tapped the hardness of the peaks with his fingers, which bounced back. Impenetrably hard. “I don’t know. 25 inches? 27? I don’t know. Here come some big pecs.” He gave them a side chest, popping his pecs, his pouty brown nipples pointing down to the carpet. “Boom,” said Casey. “Wow! Frigging huge!” “You’re swole, man!” “Yeah, I got big pecs,” said Casey modestly, turning his head back, inspecting his two huge pectoral globes in the mirror. He bounced them up and down thoughtfully. “May I lick your nipples, Casey?” squealed Ogden. Casey was confused a moment. He stopped and turned and looked quizzically at Ogden. For a moment the two muscleboys were afraid, afraid that Casey would start handing out a roomful of black eyes and broken noses, powerful punches that were sure and methodical and swift and punishing. But Banks wasn’t afraid. “You like this, dontcha Case?” It didn’t happen. “Sure, I guess. Yeah. I like it. Come on up and lick ‘em. I never got licked and touched when I posed before. Let alone watched.” He thought some more. “Guess I do like it! Can you reach? Here’s another. Bam,” he said, swinging into a front lats pose. “Bam and double bam.” Ogden scampered up, reached wide, grabbed Casey by both lats and began eagely to lick his nipples. “You got awesome pecs, dude!” “You’re strong, too,” said Banks calmly. “Those dudes up there on the hill as strong as you?” “Yeah, I think they are.” Casey was inspecting his front lats pose in the mirror. “You’re in my way,” he said to Ogden. “I can’t see.” “Sorry, Case!” “Just move to the side a little so I can check myself out.” Ogden quickly stepped aside and leaned in, licking one nipple. “Okay, that’s enough. Reach around if you have too.” “How thick is your neck, Case?” “About 25 inches I think.” “How about your quads?” “Sure.” Casey pumped and rotated his thighs, still covered up in the baggies. “Oh, I forgot. Guess you can’t see.” He rolled them down to his ankles and stood in the center of the room, his pants down, flexing for his buddies. His penis loomed heavily over mountains of muscle and veins as he pensively rotated his quads for all the muscleboys to see. The muscleboys licked their lips. “No, I mean, how big are they?” “I dunno. 33 inches? Never measured.” He rotated a huge quad slowly, staring intently at it. “Got some new veins popping in here. Look at that diamond shape. Hard.” He slapped his quads, both of them. “They’re hard, man! See how hard I am? You guys see it?” Banks eased his nicely rounded butt off the window seat, where he’d been perched, watching the proceedings. He strolled over to Casey, thumbs hooked in his tight jeans, his black spandex t-shirt rippling with extra lean, hairy muscle. His own appreciable bulge flopped lazily from side to side in his fly as he walked slowly towards Casey. “Dude, I think you like to get worshipped.” “Hunh?” Casey turned to him and whipped up a pair of double bi’s. “Check out these gunsssss……” “I see ‘em.” Banks patted them firmly. Yeah. Solid. Cannonballs. Triple-headers. Laced with thick veins. He kneaded solid muscle between calloused thumb and finger. He pulled. Paper-thin skin. “These are biceps…. “ said Casey, breathing heavy, loving every second of it. “Nice. They are. Big biceps. Very nice indeed. But my tastes run to….something……darker……” He knew all about Moster. That was the dude he wanted. Banks turned to Ogden, absorbed in licking Casey’s big brown nipples. “Whyn’t you lick his biceps too, dude? He said he likes to get licked.” He turned to Casey. “Dontcha, Case?” “I’m gonna pop you right in the eye,” Casey said, but he smiled. He flexed mightily. “C’mon, lick ‘em.” His steely fists strained red. Suddenly he longed to punch Banks in the eye. Give him a big black eye. No, two black eyes. He wasn’t mad. He just wanted to punch him. “Yeah, lick his biceps, dude. And kiss ‘em for us, Case.” “Hunh??” “Kiss your biceps, bro! G’wan, kiss ‘em!” “Why do I want to do that?” “Try it and see. See how it feels.” Casey shrugged. His traps bounced up a little and bumped Owenbee’s head, who was trying to lean in to get a closer feel on Casey’s bi’s. “Oh. Sorry.” Meanwhile Ogden was now licking his right biceps, so Casey turned to the left and, leaning in while raising an elbow, began to softly lick and kiss his bulging cannonball bi’s. Casey forgot all about wanting to punch Banks and continued flexing. Hmmm. The licking felt good. “This feels good,” he announced. He kissed himself again, and turned, grinning cockily to Banks. “Guess I won’t bust you in the eye right now.” Banks smiled. He understood. “It’s okay, Casey. I’m your friend. You can trust me. And the boys.” “But I still wanna slug you.” “You just want to slug somebody. Not me.” “Guess you’re right. But sometime soon I’m gonna start some slugging.” He flexed. “Look at these big gunnnnssss….” he repeated. By now the other four cadets were grouped around Casey, touching, feeling, pawing, stroking, kissing and licking every muscle they could reach, climbing over him, feeling him, all while remaining respectfully distant from the heavily looming cock. Owenbee got on his knees and knelt before Casey’s massive, exposed rear, began caressing the twin globes of Casey’s monster round, hard butt, feeling where the gluteus muscles rolled in, where they bulged out, where they lead down to mammoth obtruding hamstrings and up to the small of his back. He wanted to bury his young, smooth face into the deep buttcrack, but knew he’d better not. He wanted to lick it, too. But he knew that might not be a good idea, either. Not yet, anyway. So he contented himself just to do deep tissue massage on the two giant round butt orbs before him, following their rolling movements as Casey posed above him. It was like kneading iron. But he loved it. “How do you feel, Case?” Banks was stroking Casey’s broad upper pec shelf with a connoisseur’s appreciation. “Good. I feel very good. I like flexing for you guys.” “Good. And we like when you flex for us. Nice pecs.” Banks flicked one of Casey’s nipples with a thumb and forefinger. Casey responded, immediately ballooning his pecs hugely, digging his fists into solid rippled obliques and expanding chest muscles high to the skies, so it seemed, to the ceiling and beyond. “This is called worship, by the way,” Banks added. “The way the guys are touching you now. The way I am touching you.” He ran a smooth hand across his pecs and looked him deeply in the eyes. “Admiring you. Admiring your muscles. Getting off on your muscles. That’s worship.” “You’re huge, Case,” said Ogden. “Big fucking muscleman,” said Owenbee. “Awesome muscles, dude,” said Rowenstein. “Tell us what you’re thinking, Case,” said Banks. Casey didn’t know what he was thinking. Was he even thinking? He was just flexing. No, he was thinking. He was seeing….something. Something distant. Pure and good. He breathed out, let out a massive block of air, crunched up, sucked in, intake, breath, blew it out, then more blooming muscle. Expanding everywhere, blowing up, hard and solid and good. He was… …..where was he?.... “Tell us, Case,” repeated Banks softly. “Where are you?” “On the moon, I guess.” He sucked in, expanded his pecs again, turned, inadvertently pushing the boys to the floor, looked in the mirror. The room was quiet. The muscle cadets scrambled away a little, but still touching, still feeling muscle. Tension increased in the room. It was silent except for the sounds of heavy breathing. Casey began to move. He swung from pose to pose. His cock swayed heavily as he moved, slapping his quads. Front biceps. Side chest, front lat spread. Most muscular, the famous crab shot, his veins exploding everywhere, his enormous fists clenched, held steadily before him. “Hold that one,” said Banks. “I think we all want to see this one.” Casey held still. His face grew red, then redder, then beet-red. The veins on his thick neck popped out like huge pylons. And even his massive cock began to retreat a little up into his loins as his blood was needed elsewhere. “Guys? Let’s check out these veins. Okay, Case?” “…yeah…..okay…” “You can breathe, though.” “Okay, thanks.” He breathed in and out. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, searching for flaws, admiring rivers of vascularity, popping iron muscles. “Just don’t relax. Keep flexing. Keep that pose. Keep crunching.” “Can I take your picture, Case?” asked Rowenstein, begging a little. “My picture….?” Casey blew out air. He could barely think. He was just dreaming now. It was a wall, a planet, a universe of his muscle. “Keep crunching. Keep it swole,” said Banks quietly. He touched an iron biceps. “Yeah, okay.” Casey seemed befuddled, but it was because of the most muscular pose, and ….well…because he was still dreaming, now on that distant planet somewhere, where it was all about……muscle. His muscle, to be specific. Where he was posing high on a mountain, still visible to all, to thousands below, thousands of admiring men in the valley beneath him, all calling his name, all playing with their giant tools, their cum spurting and flying, the sun behind him, sweat in his eyes - “A picture. My cellphone? For, um, ….later?” “Later?” Casey barely heard him. “Yeah, later. To admire you later…..whenever I want to…..” The dream was broken for a moment and there was Rowenstein, shrugging and smiling, red-faced, embarrassed. Crab shots were his thing. He loved the solid billboard of muscle and veins. Exploding muscle and veins. “Oh, yeah. Yeah. Sure.” Casey saw Rowenstein’s cock was now poling forward in his khakis. “Made you hard, man?” “Yeah, you did. You do.” Rowenstein grinned toothily and admitted it happily. He pulled out his mobile and began snapping. Relieved, the muscle cadets groped in their pants pockets, next to their now-bulging flies, pulled out cellphones, and, never relaxing, never letting up even a finger on Casey’s massive musculature, began taking pictures. Casey went back to his mountain on his planet. He flexed. He was a god. He knew it. He wanted the universe to see him, to touch him, to admire him, to kneel before him, to reach up to him, to admire his strength, to touch his muscles, to stroke his chest, lick his nipples….. ….to worship him….. ….to suck his dick. Yes, that is what he wanted. He wanted the world to suck his cock. He nodded. That’s what he wanted. Like that hot mean little muscle dude Tiffany did last night. No one had done that before. Now he knew. Yes, and now he knew. Was this why he did it? Why he lifted? Why he had built his physique into the huge muscle sculpture it was now? No, of course not. Not entirely. He wanted to be the biggest and strongest man in the world. That’s what he wanted. But getting his dick sucked at the same time would be a nice perk. Again, he blew up his pecs to their fullest. Twin globes of pure muscle. Boom! Boom! He felt his buddies’ hands all over him. He was dizzy with lust and young muscle. He wanted to flex for everyone, his dick to throb and spurt and explode inside vanquished mouth after vanquished mouth, his long thick shaft gliding between adoring lips, plunging down dozens of supplicant throats, gagging them all with his cock girth and his cum, gagging the world with his giant man meat as he flexed mountainous biceps. He wanted to cover the faces of hundreds of men with his cum. Coating them all. Then fucking butt. Fucking hundreds of butts while he flexed. This was his planet. That is what he wanted. He never realized it before. But he did now. The muscle cadets were all over him, stroking him, rubbing him, feeling his muscles, inspecting his veins. Check out these striations, he heard one of them say. Yeah, these veins are thick as pencils. No, thicker. His skin is so thin. Check out these abs, they’re like cinder blocks. No, harder. This okay, Casey? Yeah, it’s okay. Feel me. Touch me. Check out my muscles. Suck my dick. He started to say it. The cadets seemed to anticipate it. The breathing in the room grew heavier. And heavier. And suddenly one of the muscleboys moaned. Ayyyy Ugnnnhhhh…. And then another. Casey closed his eyes and flexed…. Oh Yeah LOOK AT MY MUSCLES DUDES And then another low cry Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! And then he felt it himself. He felt the liquid start…..it was happening… YEAH YEAH YEAH No, it wasn’t. It wasn’t happening. The room was suddenly sharply quiet. He opened his eyes. It had all stopped. The boys had stepped back. No one was touching him. The worship had stopped. “You ready to go, Casey?” Casey was shocked out of his dream. He turned and stood, staring. His massive cock brushed the mirror as he turned. Rod Moster was at the open door, smiling. He wore his sweats, but even they didn’t conceal his 7’- 0” frame, his nearly 400 pounds of super wide muscle. His veiny relaxed biceps rolled out of his sleeves with nearly 25 inches of unflexed power, 30 when flexed. His quad veins were so thick the boys could see them through his sweatpants. And that wasn’t all they could see. The outline of his flaccid cock bulged lazily down his right leg, extending almost to his knees. The boys stared. “Who is that??” “He’s like a fucking god,” said Owenbee. Banks stepped forward, his eyes now half closed, a small smile on his face. “Sergeant Moster,” said Banks politely. “Greetings.” He saluted crisply, smiled. The muscle cadets stared at the giant, handsome black bodybuilder. “Shit,” said Ogden, “no one is that big.” “He is,” said Rowenstein. “Thank you, Cadet. You’re Banks?” “Yes, sir. Aye, aye, sir.” “Am I interrupting something?” “We’re just saying goodbye, sir,” said Banks, relaxed, crisp and smooth and confident. Casey smiled weakly. “Yeah.” “Put some clothes on, Casey.” Silence in the room. Casey looked down and realized he was naked and that his huge member was poling straight out and up what seemed to be 2 feet or more, as if ready to shoot. Precum was dribbling down the long, thick shaft and onto the floor. And he looked around his room, and saw all the tented, bulging flies of all the teen muscle cadets, their pants increasing with stain, their cocks now receding. Every one of them. Except Banks. His cock still poled out straight ahead in his pants, but his fly was dry, bulging with unleashed power. He'd been able to control himself. And Banks was not embarrassed. Moster took note silently. Hmmm. “Bye, Casey. Maybe we’ll see you at the compound? If Sergeant Moster will allow us in?” Owenbee was hopeful. Moster frowned. “We’ll see,” he said, non-committal. “Um. Yeah. Okay. Bye, guys.” Casey bent and grabbed his clothes, beet red, mortified. Was this the way to show himself on the most important morning of his life? Naked and flexing and about to shoot and filled with fantasies and dreams? And, it might be added – late??? Late for a military CO? He wasn’t even IN the military, and he felt completely humiliated. He struggled for his baggies, reached for his shoes, looked around in vain for at least one of his oversized jocks. And he hadn’t even packed up his laptop or his prized personal collection of vintage muscle magazines yet. “I’m really sorry, sir,” he blurted, moving clumsily around the room as the teens scrambled to step clear of the confused young bull. “I guess I’m not ready to go.” “You do want to move up the mountain to the main compound?” “Oh, yes, sir!” “Well, then, get yourself ready to go. I won’t wait for you long. I’ll be downstairs in the van. Take a few minutes, and get yourself together. I'll wait five minutes. After that, if you want to move up the mountain, you're going to have to walk.” He smiled, suddenly surprisingly kind. He looked around the room of awestruck boys, and smiled. “And if all you cadets keep training hard, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you all up at the compound sometime soon.” He looked pointedly at Banks. “Especially you.” “Turn around.” Banks complied, turning around. Moster gazed, eyes half-lidded, at Banks’ impressively shaped glutes, nicely packed inside tight pants. “Yes. Keep doing those squats, boy. Good flanks.” His fingers twitched a little. There would be a nice session of spanking this smart-mouthed handsome muscle boy’s hard little muscle bottom sometime in the very near future. He'd wake him up. Banks’ eyes twinkled. He knew what Moster was thinking about. It was okay with him. "I'll look forward to meeting you again, sir." They shared a quick look of understanding. Moster smiled slightly, an eyebrow cocked. Then he nodded briefly to the others. “At ease, men.” And then he was gone. The boys were still a moment, listening to Moster’s steps retreating down the corridor. The distant outer door opened and closed. A moment of awed silence. Then the boys scrambled back to life. “Jesus!” “He’s HUGE.” “Guys! I gotta bounce!” Boytown muscle chaos as the cadets dove around the room, gathering Casey’s bags and toiletries and clothes and laptop, throwing everything in a heap. “Get my muscle magazines!” “Where are they?” Rowenstein asked, looking a little frantic. “The closet. There’s a box. Four boxes. I need them!” The boys scoured the room, gathering their hero’s possessions. “We got your back, Case,” said Banks, smiling. Casey stopped a moment and looked into Banks’ eyes. Then he smiled. “I know you do, dude. I know.” ****** NEXT CHAPTER: "The Twenty" Chapter 15 - Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster

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/

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."

"The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "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 - Inside Zaftig's Lab: The Musclemen Revealed Chapter 3: White Cap Training At the beginning, Zaftig had believed that the perfect man was Rod Moster. Now, 18 other enhanced candidates approached the successful muscular development levels Moster had already achieved. Moster’s edge was waning. On training days, the men could eat whatever they wished, as long as their diets included 5,000 daily grams of pure animal protein. After a “light” morning workout, a day of classes and small arms training, and between regularly scheduled sessions of long distance swimming, bicycling, sparring, wrestling, karate, tae kwon do, yoga, kickboxing, and extreme fighting technique skills, the men were set loose in the gym at 1730 hours. By then, of course, they were wild to lift heavy and lift hard. On muscle recovery days, the men were commanded to remain in or near their private quarters and barred from stressful activities. Maintaining proper diet in all six daily meals remained in effect, socializing was strictly limited, and long hours of meditation were advised. It was understood that their finely honed mechanisms required fresh air, a little light running, a mile-long swim or two, and long, stress-free, leisurely walks along the many compound park trails. Lights out on muscle recovery days was 2000 hours. The rest day protocols were strictly enforced. These rest days were always the dullest days imaginable for the energized squad of musclemen. Early morning the day after rest, they were filled once again with blinding zeal and unfettered ambition for the hours of brutal, strictly regimented workouts. Lately Sergeant Moster was even more vigilant than usual, making sure that the men stayed on point throughout the session. Once every few weeks, the men eagerly anticipated a ‘White Cap’ training session. White Cap Nights meant one thing - no holds barred. They were scheduled generally as an incentive following of long periods of recorded ‘good team behavior.’ The men ached for them. White Caps contained traces of concentrated undiluted P21 granules, blended carefully with powerfully lab-enhanced homeopathic supplements and pure, powdered oxygen. It was like muscle heroin, mainstreamed. Zaftig’s researchers had found that this compound powder form of P21, when taken orally, produced short-term jolts of strength stamina, and unrestrained energy that were, unlike the injectable form, only temporarily enjoyed. The workouts performed after a white cap had been consumed boasted over-the-top performance levels, which always resulted in new personal bests. The gains the men made on these nights, whether lifting, swimming, running, or fighting, provided benchmarks for future optimal training. There was a drawback. The few remaining social restraints the men still had from their former lives had all but faded to nothingness. Just as the men were moved to achieve new highs on the workout floor, the few remaining inhibitors they did still maintain all but vanished. While scheduling White Cap nights was becoming an increasing necessity in order to keep the men focused on pure muscle growth, Dr. Zaftig had become highly concerned that as the team continued to surpass previously-considered “impossible” training goals, the squad’s standards of good behavior, or even basic societal standards of decency, were becoming increasingly rare. And while Zaftig continued to allow Moster control the group, he was aware of his probable own long-term foolishness in this decision. For under Moster’s direction, the squad was separating itself little by little from standards of common social boundaries. To say nothing of military discipline. How could Zaftig hope to impress the brass if his muscle monsters, for all of their nearly inhuman development, were out of control? And how could Project Herculaneum continue if the military removed its nearly decade-long support? Moreover, a Joint Chiefs review was scheduled for November. Zaftig was worried. In effect, his chief inmate was now running the asylum. It made for fantastic achievements in muscle size, strength, and accomplishment. It did little or nothing to contain the burgeoning sexual psyches of musclemen who craved to exhibit, show-off, pose, tease, and flex with abandon. Three years before, when the Nineteen were still the Twelve, a White Cap night had been introduced as a lab experiment. The men ended up in such a muscles-entangled in a spectacularly muscle-flexing, cum-spurting locker room orgy after the workout that the program was almost abandoned. Sheepish and humiliated the next day, the Twelve went back to the gym to set new benchmarks in strength, endurance, and lifting. With some persuasion, Moster argued to Zaftig that occasional white cap nights, strongly regulated and following firm procedures might inspire the men further to new heights. Distributed in the wrong hands, White Caps could be dangerous, and perhaps lethal. They were highly stimulating drugs, and the enlarged pupils, deep breathing, increased body heat and volumes of sweat they produced required careful monitoring. For the Project Herculaneum men, white caps were like crack. Zaftig had been against them from the start, until over time it became apparent that no organic harm had ever resulted, nor certifiable addiction issues. Moreover, the men remained inspired by White Cap workouts in the months to come. And they understood that for them to be most effective, these nights could come only 4 or 5 times a year. Zaftig reluctantly agreed, on the condition that the nights were videotaped by no less than six cameras. The tapes would be closely reviewed for infractions and sexually aggressive behavior. In exchange, Moster bargained that during shower time, they men could indulge as they wished. Zaftig, sincerely hoping no long-term hospitalizations would result, gave the go-ahead for periodic white cap nights. And so they began. On these nights, for two hours, it was only Moster’s grim domination of the men that prevent them from brutally fucking each other right there on the workout floor. That would wait, as he faithfully promised them all, for the shower room afterwards, when, fuck each other, they did, and with relish. Of late, however, not a little of the sexual acting out had made its way to the gym floor. One by one, the video cameras were shut down and put away, leaving no record. And the men grew more unrestrained. October 19th had been a required rest and muscle recovery day, for October 20th‘s workout was scheduled as a White Cap Night. After all, later that night in the mess, the men were scheduled to meet the so-called young ‘muscle genius’ Casey Rockland for the first time. Another recruit from Miles Donovan’s San Jose hardcore gym Raw Weight. Just a kid, really. Only 18. But with real promise, or so it seemed. Moster determined to think about Casey Rockland a little later. He couldn’t afford to have split attention when the men were on the floor and under the influence of the pure, undiluted stuff. And it was too late to turn back now. As long as P21 continued to produce almost miraculous results, and the men grew exponentially large and become stronger beyond all projected imagining, and Project Herculaneum approached its 10-year anniversary, Zaftig had finally been forced to turn a blind eye to both the benefits of White Cap Nights, and the now-nightly after-hours sexual behavior. Moster distributed the capsules personally to the men as they filed onto the floor. The bodybuilders gobbled them down immediately, already chuckling and winking at one another. Then Moster stood back and allowed their raging hormones their full force. Watchful and ever ready to impose his strict discipline as needed, he nevertheless understood the basic benefits of weight-room bonding. He let them go. He did not take one himself. He stood watchfully to one side. He was dressed, as he generally was, in his spotless oversized white sweats. He had completed his own workout privately an hour before while his squad was going through their abs training in the enclosed hot room just next to the workout floor. It was generally unnecessary for him to display his physical superiority to his squad of muscle freaks, except privately, and only when warranted. And tonight in particular, he chose to remain fully covered as if to encourage the men to pay attention to their own bodies. Upon occasion, however, he would strip down to his jock and join the men in their training to maintain bonding, and supply ongoing inspiration, however he determined it might be needed. Those nights had become increasingly rare, however, as the complicated, competitive reactions of the men to Moster’s detailed muscularity had begun to inhibit the workflow. From the sidelines, watching his squad’s training with laser focus, he made sure his men strictly maintained dead-on correct form with each grueling lift. Moster made careful notes in the margins of the evening training session report filled out in advance for him daily by meek, balding little Dr. Irving, Zaftig’s nearly silent civilian lab assistant. Never disappointed at either their stamina or their passion during normal workouts, the results achieved on white cap nights amazed even him. The effects always began gradually. Divided into their usual smaller training teams of 2 and 3 men each, the soldier-bodybuilders of Project Herculaneum took turns spotting one another and blasting alternate muscle groups. Tonight, teams one and two were working back and lats, teams three and four delts, traps and triceps, teams five and six legs, team seven chest and biceps. An hour of punishing abdominal work preceded the heavy lifting. The men grimaced, grunted, spat, cursed, shouted and groaned with ecstatic agony as, all around the room, each man pumped his super-sized, vein-exploding muscles to their greatest potential. Their dirty army regulation wife-beater t-shirts were grimy with dirt and drenched with water and sweat. Beneath the t-shirts, each man displayed blinding, awesomely ripped physiques, packed with dense, intricate, vascular cables of tendons, ligaments, river-thick veins and mountainously large, round, popping muscle bellies. Abs rippled with cobblestone washboard 8-packs on waistlines that grew no larger than 32 inches. Lats flared. Pecs pumped. Biceps bulged ferociously as the men aggressively lifted and posed for one another in between sets, each man confident that he was bigger than his training partner. Some of the men kept their bodies shaved. Others let their body hair grow. Moster demanded shaved physiques only once a month for company inspection, and over time he had come to respect the fact that some of the furrier musclemen were proud of their sprouting masses of thick, healthy chest, asshole, and pubic hair. Short, regulation haircuts were required, though some of the older men were allowed beards and mustaches. After all, personal vanity, as long as it didn’t supplant regulations, was to be encouraged. It also kept the men unique from one another. While they were all extraordinarily developed bodybuilders, Moster knew the value of each man maintaining his own identity and special tastes. It was all part of his plan. Moster's vision, if you will. After all, later on, new cadet Casey would be presented to the group. For it appeared that Casey Rockland might possess the rare organic gifts that were even more sympathetic. Moster wanted the men to be aching with rage and pain from their blazingly cruel workout when they first encountered Muscle Cadet Casey Rockland at precisely 2200 hours. He wished he could also prevent the men from the usual hardcore White Cap Night after-workout showers free-for-all, but he knew that was impossible. Then again, P21 worked in mysterious ways. Maybe the men would be feeling replenished and reloaded? White Cap Night workouts were tougher, true, but the floor activity and the post-show group release in the showers meant the men would be drained. So maybe not quite as spot-on impassioned (envious? turned on?) at their first meeting of the impressively swole 18-year muscle monster. In any event, Moster would enforce no-touch rules on Casey for the first few weeks. At least. Zaftig had recently confided in Moster that Rockland might indeed be that long-sought P21 perfect recipient. The men already sensed that Rockland was different. For almost two years, they’d all glimpsed the fully-covered teenage cadet Rockland periodically training with the program’s other young cadets in their own, smaller gym in an auxiliary building in the compound. He was unaccountably huge, and the cadets were increasingly intimidated by his size and strength. It was way past time to move him up into the ranks. Most of the cadets still lived off-campus in discreetly rented apartments in nearby San Jose. Vans picked them up early each morning and returned them to their front doors each early evening. There was no socializing with The Nineteen. A few of the more promising cadets were assigned cadet housing in the facility’s dormitory. And Rockland had been moved into the dorm at the outset. And from what the men could tell from a distance, he was mammoth beyond imaging for a teenager. Rockland was said to be a genetic marvel, even amongst these men, though none of them had yet had the occasion to closely inspect the young man’s physique. Zaftig had made sure of that. Even Sergeant Moster had not yet interviewed the young man. He was amused (if just a little irritated) that Zaftig had purposefully held back on presenting Rockland to him, instead encouraging Rockland to bond with the other cadets in their own comparatively unsupervised weight training. The point was to see what the teen cadets would do on their own recognizance. Junior to Moster, but reporting only to Zaftig, Casey’s handlers were required to keep their notes confidential – that is to say, away from Moster. So far, Rockland had little inkling of the plans that were in place for his future. In time, Moster had come to accept the set up. In the 10 years since he first began to assemble the men of Project Herculaneum, Zaftig had always been successful in presenting a finely honed candidate worthy of the grueling responsibilities of membership. He had an eye for talent, Moster had to acknowledge, finding gold in a man he himself might have passed on. Moster assumed, correctly as it happened, that at this very moment in another part of the compound, Zaftig was preparing young Casey Rockland for his first presentation to The Nineteen. For it was only after long-term study of the effects on a so-called control “perfect specimen” that the kinks of the formula could finally be identified, and eliminated. After that, it would be ready for general release to the public – and ready to earn billions for Zaftig. For even in the true believer Zaftig, at the end of the day, it was still all about the money. What Moster didn’t know was that Zaftig, sure of Rockland’s gifts and unparalleled fast-track progress, had been injecting him from day one as a cadet with P21. It was possible that young Casey Rockland was the man that Zaftig had long been searching for. He’d been on the protocol for two years now, ever since that night Zaftig found him, lonely and alone, and prompted by a hurried call from Miles Donovan, in the San Jose Greyhound bus station. Chapter 4: A Brief History of Casey Rockland 2002-2021 Even as a baby, he was unusually large and healthy. He had appeared one night in Fall, 2002, delivered anonymously just inside chilly porticoes of City Hall. He was carefully tucked in a battered little crib, which had been wheeled and abandoned in the shadows of the Rockland Avenue entrance. Snugly covered with a warm blanket, the baby had a bottle that he sucked on pensively. A note pinned to the cradle read: Take care of our boy. He is a good boy even if he is big. We just cant feed him no more. PS His birthday is April 23. He is six months old today. We call him Casey. Goodbye and thank u and God bless u. No one knew who his parents were. And now he was no more than just another foundling in the city system. City social services responded quickly. Baby Casey’s birth certificate being untraceable, his social worker hurriedly gave him the surname ‘Rockland’, and the smiling, big-eyed, big-bodied baby went directly into foster care. Passed from home to home, prospective parents seemed to give up very quickly. At first charmed by his beauty, sweetness, clear eyes and blond hair, all gave up rather promptly after discovering just how much baby Casey ate. In time he was transferred into the San Jose Catholic Boys’ Home. There he was looked after by a small platoon of the devoted nuns of the Benedictine Order. Something about him touched the normally cold-hearted sisters, and in short order, they began to feed him as much as he required. Which was a lot. Baby Casey was growing before their eyes. Casey didn’t start to talk until he was nearly 3 years old. His vocabulary consisted of “Yes”, “No”, “Okay”, “Please”, “I’m hungry”, and “I’m still hungry.” By the time he was 4, the sisters sadly noted that Casey was slower than the other boys his age, if much bigger, and generally in need of twice as much food. By age 5, he was already as big and strong as a 10-year old, which required some special clothing and a certain amount of care that he didn’t accidently break things. Even so, Casey was shy and sweet natured, if withdrawn. He always tried to do the right thing and not worry the nuns. The boy had an uncommonly beautiful face, with long, thick lustrous blond hair, and deep set violet eyes with heavy black eyebrows and eyelashes. The kind-hearted Sisters told him quietly about what a handsome man he was going to be when he grew up. “Just be patient,” said Sister Mary Christopher. “Your day will come.” His day hadn’t come yet. The other boys didn’t like him. By the time Casey was 11, his blend of dopey sweetness and a rapidly maturing pre-adolescent body forced unwanted attention onto him. Still the favorite of the sisters, he got the biggest dinners and seemed to receive the most privileges. Even his relative slowness in class didn’t daunt the Sisters’ devotion. He never asked for any special treatment. It just came to him. His size added to his troubles. He knew he could hurt the other boys without meaning to, unless he was very careful, and soon enough, the older, meaner gangs in the home learned that in spite of his size and superior strength, he wouldn’t fight back. The sisters, after all, told him not to. It was more blessed to turn the other cheek. In fact, as Casey grew, it became apparent that he had four cheeks that he could turn. Four of the bigger boys loved to pin him down and administer bare-bottom spankings. And Casey’s supple little butt was nice and ripe for such punishment. In fact, he could take any punishment, feeling somehow that it was his due. And he never told tales. In spite of his increasing size and strength, he was open season for bullies. Over the years, he became a punching bag, a repository for the other boys’ fears and anger. The years passed. Casey went into puberty early. He grew exponentially fast, and the other boys became more wary of him. His strength was already an issue, and often the nuns would catch him testing his strength by lifting tables and bending the iron bars that lined the dank little playground. A bigger problem, however, developed out of the group showers in gym class. Casey’s penis was growing fast, even faster than his strong body. His pants never seemed to fit any more, and it grew harder to hide the developing bulge. To make matters worse, when he was 9 he had started having erections and wet dreams, and sometimes would get excited in class or on the playground or at mess hall. The other boys stared at the growing bulge in his pants, whispered, and pointed, secretly unsure and intimidated. Casey was always baffled by their snickering, half-heard, never-understood jokes. One day one of the older boys had an inspiration on the playground. Staring at Casey’s looming young fly, he called out. “Hey. Banana Man! You getting’ another hard-on?” The other boys roared nastily. “Seems you’re always gittin’ hard-ons, Banana Man! You queer or somethin’?” The name stuck. That was the worst. Casey was now ashamed of his penis. Ashamed and embarrassed. He was always getting hard at the wrong times. He was always being called out by the other boys. It was too big. He couldn’t hide it. And he certainly couldn’t discuss this with the nuns. “Banana Man, Banana Man!” Casey knew they were mocking him, mocking his embarrassingly oversized manhood. He was ashamed and tried to hide himself. And that made the boys laugh even more. When Casey was 12, he had had enough. He was too big, too pretty, ungainly, awkward, lonely, slow-witted and alone. Although he never let the other boys see it, he cried a lot, usually under his bed sheets late at night, stifling his sobs so that the other boys in the dorm room wouldn’t hear him. One night he thumbed through a community free handout magazine he picked up at the corner market to see if he could find – well, anything. The sisters never let the boys use the office computers for mere webs surfing, but he was desperate, and he knew there had to be a place – somewhere – where he could go to vent his frustrations, anxiety, and deep loneliness. He knew he was a freak, but he suspected there might be a place where there were other freaks, like him, where he could find some comfort. There it was. The ad that changed everything. The ad that changed his life. MILES DONOVAN’S RAW WEIGHT GYM HARDCORE BODYBUILDING REASONABLE RATES COME TRAIN WITH THE CHAMPIONS And there was a picture, too, an old one of bodybuilder Lee Labrada. It was enough for Casey. This is what he wanted to look like. This was what he wanted to be. The next morning he begged Sister Mary Alice for extra yard work duty so that he could earn the money to join Raw Weight Gym. He worked all fall late into the evening washing dishes, sweeping floors, emptying the teeming garbage pails in the kitchen. The sisters saw to it that he was paid $125 weekly for his work. “He’s learning responsibility,” said Sister Mary Alice. “He’s preparing to jump the wall,” said Sister Agatha. “Freak….teacher’s pet…..queer,” said the boys. And on day in the spring of 2016, after classes were over for the day at precisely 2:30 PM, he took a bus downtown to join Raw Weight Gym, the hardcore gym owned by the 50-year old retired pro bodybuilder legend Miles Donovan. He didn’t tell anyone where he was going. The nuns knew he was venturing out, however. They trusted that wherever Casey was bound to go, as long as he was quiet, stuck to his chores, was well behaved and responsible, and was back at the rectory in time for dinner, they were not about to get involved. He would be on his own in a few years anyway, the sisters reasoned. Better he began to learn the world now. And secretly, he remained the favorite of all in the order. Chapter 5: Raw Weight Gym Once upon a time, retired pro bodybuilder Miles Donovan might have qualified as one of The Nineteen. But at 55 years of age, with almost 40 years spent in the ranks of competitive bodybuilding, Miles had seen too much the world of competitive muscle up close and personal for way too long. He was done with the competitive end of the iron game. Handsome, cleft-chinned, grey-haired and grizzled with an ever-present two-day growth of beard, and sporting the powerfully thick musculature of a superheavyweight competitor, Miles was still a national phenomenon. His big, hard body was graced with a half dozen fading 1970s-era tattoos, and at 255 pounds, the man proudly boasted the rocky 34-inch waist of a 20-year old. His veined, iron super-abs still served as impressive midsection body armor, his hard pecs still loomed with impressive cuts, and his oversized nipples still sported the brass nipple rings he’d first put on when he hung up his posing trunks for the last time, 15 years before. Better still, Miles had long since stopped shaving his body, and his hardcore daddy physique was lined with a matting of soft black body hair. Miles was stronger than all of the men at his gym, effortlessly curling 225 pounds, squatting 600 and benching 500. His bodyfat index never got much higher than 3%. No, he’d never stop lifting, never stop training as if the contest of his life was just next week. But Miles knew all about the favoritism of the judges and alpha-male insecurities of most other pro bodybuilders. He had been through the health problems, the staggering personal toll taken on most competitive bodybuilders with their litanies of failed relationships, bad business decisions, drugs and violence. A survivor of three scorched-earth divorces, Miles had long since turned his back on blissful domesticity. Now, it was all about his gym – and the private sex games his muscles could still inspire. Always a hustler, Miles had a different magic formula for his survival in the world of muscle. Why not let the muscle fans work for him, he reasoned to himself. Miles was all too familiar with the viciousness of the confidence-challenged muscle worshippers, whose mean-spirited online backstabbing masked profound, unfixable fears, physical inferiority, and personal emotional agonies. He’d seen too many talented, hapless, dog-dumb young musclemen, eager for fame and recognition in the world of competitive muscle, get their hopes and dreams dashed on the rocks of life, their fine physiques spiraling into decay as the years of being used and abused caught up with them and the despair of association with the seedier elements of bodybuilding began to take its inexorable toll. Not for him this downward spiral. And he had no inclination of spending his retirement years in a lab complex headed up by his crazy old friend, Dr. Ira Zaftig, inspiring muscle project or not. After all, he could still get the better any man on the workout floor or take him down in the free-for-all boxing ring; he was known to have a mighty punch. And below the belt he was nicely endowed with a 9-inch penis that liked to come out to play often, for he was well known to particularly enjoy the discreet worship of his teen members. There wasn’t much Miles liked better than when a handsome 18-year old muscletwink pulled down the man’s outward poling sweatpants and enveloped his always-tumescent, thick member between pouty teenage lips. Miles’ Gym, Raw Weight, was cavernous. It sprawled over three floors in a large former warehouse located at the end of an alley in downtown San Jose. Plate glass windows on floors one and two showed lines of cardio machines and stacks of weights. Raw Weight was his baby. He’d carved it out of the world and made it all his own. He had bought the building for a song 20 years before, in 1997, where it had stood, a nearly forgotten emblem to bodybuilding history for nearly 40 years. In it, some of the greats of bodybuilding had once trained at the beginning of their careers. Most had long since retired or moved on to the slick strip mall gym chains that had cropped up across the country since the early 1980s, which now catered to the legends and the weekend bodybuilding hopefuls alike. The steroided goons that had dominated the competition stages for more than three decades may have created their own little scattered fiefdoms, but all the same most who had survived returned (quietly) once or twice a year to the rarefied muscle environment that was Raw Weight Gym. For the first few years he was in business, Miles was always barely one step away from creditors, foreclosure, IRS audits. Then one afternoon, while grimly watching an annoying old gym rat hitting on an unresponsive 22-year old Mexican muscleboy, he hit on a marketing strategy that was, for inner sanctum muscle lovers, just about flawless. All were welcome at Miles’ gym – at least on the first two floors. There, at all hours of the day and night were the teens, the rock-solid gay guys, the strapping young executives, the boxers and the runners and the middle-aged and the muscle wannabes and the flabby former high school athletes and even the merely curious. The vast gym floor clanged with the sound of weights and the whirring of the treadmills, and the house music echoed resoundingly throughout its depths. The showers were always hot, the equipment was dust-free, the machines were new and shiny and well tended, and the floor mats were scrubbed and clean. From a clerestory row at the height of the 16-foot walls large, lines of faded color posters of the bodybuilding legends of the 20th and 21st centuries promised the results of years of muscle-building dedication and discipline. Few lifters on these two floors could ever hope to achieve anything like the muscle density and mass of the gods that beamed down upon them with smug superiority, but spirits were undaunted, and the air was charged with the serious endeavors of those who trained beneath the glare of the merciless fluorescent lights. And then there was the 3rd floor. It was an exclusive and private membership-only club, and it was Miles’ own world of muscle, where he was the unchallenged director and Chairman of the Board. Miles Donovan A passkey, only issued by Miles personally, was available to a very few elite members. The 3rd floor was resolutely men-only. It too was clean and scrubbed, but it was quiet, music-less, and unadorned by the posters of proudly flexing past contest winners. No more than five men trained there at any given time. There was a private entrance through an unmarked door on the street level with an elevator that went directly to 3, so the passkey members didn’t have to be bothered by the stares and curiosity of the comparative plebes found on floors 1 and 2. The rules were clear. The Men of 3, as Miles called them, were required to train, at least during business hours, in tight posing trunks. After hours, they could train naked if they chose. They were even allowed to bring in occasional training partners and visitors of their own choosing, as long as they either a) kept up with the grueling training, or, their non-training guests remained silent, respectful, discreet, observed the rules, remained dressed in a suitable sweatsuit and gym shoes, and paid appropriately. But that wasn’t all. Miles also admitted floor access to a few privately selected well-heeled subscribers. They paid dearly for the privilege. For a few thousand dollars a shot, the subscribing visitors were allowed to indulge in discreet muscle worship while the bodybuilders trained. The rules were clear here, as well. The full-time muscle members who were worshipped were required to train past their pain thresholds on a regular basis. Their progress was reported in weekly time sheets that listed current dimensions, gains, possible injuries, and reported income earned while on the floor. The money was 90% theirs to keep: Miles took the rest of his cut from the paying guests. As keys and membership could be revoked at any time, both musclemen and muscle worshippers were all conscientiously engaged in maintaining their good standing. The specs of the muscle members were clearly understood. All had to have superior muscular development for their weight – Miles did not discriminate in favor of age or the super-huge, and several of the men were either older or bantams. A few men were silver daddies well into their sixties, who looked as if they might have another decade of solid growth ahead of them. The only area where Miles had to lay down a firm law of size requirement was relative to penis length, girth, and weight. Only the well hung were admitted, and although it wasn’t spelled out per se in any charter, the Men of 3 all knew that any new member was unquestionably packing – and talented. Butt fucking was generally discouraged on the workout floor on 3, although there were no active rules against it. Butt fucking tended to be louder and distracting to the men at work, and besides, few had the inclination to offer their well-honed glutes for the pleasure of the visitors – at least, during training hours. What the men did after hours was, of course, their own business, but Miles suspected few wanted to be known as available butt buddies, and that alone kept actual fucking to a minimum. Butt worship, however, wasn’t uncommon, and once or twice a week some lucky guest might be spotted on his knees near the squat rack, his face pressed into the hardened musclebutt of a seasoned member, who might appear to a casual observer to be completely ignoring him. Once Miles was amused to see two muscle members deeply engaged in a serious conversation about quad training while, beneath them and on either side, two eager visitors had their faces deeply buried in their well-rounded glutes. The men were ignoring them. After all, they expected no less. Overall, the system worked surprisingly well. The ranks of the Men of 3 were few, but well chosen. It was also an urban legend to the scores of gay guys on 1 and 2 who might hope and dream, but did not yet have the money or tact to be considered for the occasional foray upstairs. Only the longtime muscle members themselves were allowed in the 3rd floor locker room and showers. The locker room, of course, was a different story, for there the naked musclemen were free to take their pleasure of one another as often as they liked, sucking cock, fucking butt, worshipping the muscles of their training partners, and even engaging in water sports, as long as they mopped up after themselves. Muscle members were not allowed to exchange favors with one another on the floor at any time during the gym’s open hours, but late at night after all visitors had departed for the day, muscle members could train naked if they liked, or in leather, or thongs, or wearing masks – or whatever they preferred. Generally the newer members, once initiated, made use of the free-for-all spirit of after hours, finding other like-minded newbies overwhelmed with personal pride over the honor of having been accepted. However, all the men of 3 made frequent use of the locker room. It was strictly observed that at no time were water sports acceptable on the gym floor, but it wasn’t uncommon to see a smiling, exhausted, fulfilled muscle member pissing a powerful jet stream onto the face and pecs of another satisfied muscle member kneeling before him while they showered. Miles auditioned the men of the 3rd floor himself. He rarely sucked cock – he’d had enough of all that years before, although for a particularly gifted candidate he’d loosen up his own rules, if he happened to be in the mood. His test was far more cut and dried, and, in effect, far more exclusive, even to the point of cruelty. Applicants were subjected to a simple test: Miles would put a bodybuilder through an after-hours grueling workout, and stopping it short without warning just as the man appeared about to drop from pain and exhaustion, demand he immediately drop his shorts. Miles would then measure the flaccid penis, and if it passed the dimension test, take it in his tough, calloused palm and, with a stopwatch in hand, determine the time it took the man to get fully hard. Then, he would measure again to see the full erection length, and demand an ejaculation on the spot. Only one in ten men might make it, although the candidates who displayed promising size and ability, if not able to make the full distance on the first audition, were free to come back and try again whenever they felt up to it. If the men were big enough and hung enough, Miles didn’t mind testing and retesting. If not, no further audition was available, although Miles saw to it that the flunkees were treated with respect and discretion. After all, upon occasion, a hopeful 4F might gain access as a visitor, although he would not be allowed into the ranks of the talented muscle beneficiaries. Of course, he’d also have to pay for access privileges. And the muscle hopefuls, wannabes, worshippers, trainers, pros and future pros came from all over the world just to get a shot at membership at that 3rd floor exclusive aerie of muscle and muscle lovers. And years later, it would have the added notoriety of being the gym where the legendary muscle giant Casey Rockland got his start. -- To be continued --

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...

Plotline: After centuries of living in isolation, Zeus decides to return to earth and have some fun as a human. The following is a work of fiction, this story does not make attempts to presume religious practices, faiths nor retell any historical events with accuracy. I I sit in my small throne room, levitating high above Olympus where I was forced to relocate after the explosion of Vesuvius so many earth cycles—well, years ago. For centuries I have remained here, a prisoner of my own mistakes, I assume, watching as my creations have evolved beyond me and my fellow gods. The years of warring and brute control of our human creations resulted in a devastating loss. With many of the Titans destroyed due to their own brutality and selfishness, I no longer have the influence over my people as I once did. I should have had the foresight to understand that humans would move beyond their faith in me; after all, there are plenty of other deities both evil and good for humans to invest their lives in, and they do have free will. As humans have stopped believing in my existence, my powers have also diminished. I'm sure other Titans exist elsewhere, perhaps in far off places and times, but in any case I am comfortable where I am. I have actually found it amusing to watch the human civilization evolve and grow over the centuries, they have discovered so much about how I and my fellow Titans created them and their environment. As I walk to my reflecting pool, I realize that it has been nearly 2000 years since I was exiled from the Roman existence. Jupiter, as I was called then, was their leader, their source of power, their ability to conquer and discover and rule and love, lust. As an immortal and a deity I do realize that time bends to my will, but I have enjoyed my current role as a hands off god, living in solitude high above Olympus. I perform nearly the same ritual each day that I have since I settled here, and though I am not dissatisfied with my immortality or my power, these last few years I have become bored and restless. I look down at my reflection in the pool, the cool water shining an emerald glow of myself back into my eyes. I wear the same white toga I have always worn, prestine in its own immortality. I appear to the be same age as I always have, my bright blue eyes reflected against my blonde, curly beard and a thick, flowing blonde mane wrapping down my head and behind my neck. Not bad for a human, typical for a god, though. I smirk at myself, we Titans sure did have fun in our day. We languished in our fluid sexuality, our carelessness and candor with each fellow god as well as humans. Even in our selfish and turse natures, I had no regrets for what I did. Hyperion and I would often go to Earth, visiting in human form. We could take our picks of the strongest and worthiest humans to bond with, gracing them with our godly sex. Theia would challenge us to plant our seed into as many humans in one night as we could, I usually won because I could coerce multiple men and women to come to bed with me at the same time, Hyperion preferred one partner at a time. Pulling the strap from my toga, I undressed and dropped my garment. I put my hand against my chest and feel my blonde hair gracing over my sturdy and flattened pecs, leading a treasure trail across my six-pack abs and down to my thickly hairy pubic region. I miss my sexual encounters, my tool misses it too. Years of masturbation on my own have caused me to grow longing and restless. I flex my quads and see my hair raise over my sinew. We gods always enjoyed our nude rituals, and my daily swim in my lake remains one of my favorite activities. I take a perfect dive into the water and stroke back and forth across the lake, feeling the cool water rush over my naked body. I couldn't help but ask myself what it would be like should I return to earth today. Humans with their computers and vehicles, their vast languages, cultures and technology. Only few rituals remain from my time as a ruler, how I would love to participate once more in the activity of human life. Of course there really was nothing to stop me. As a controller of energy and electricity I could easily and quietly work my way back into the plane of earthly existence. But what would I do? The political factions and cultural phenomenons are so different now. Does it even matter? Of course not, for I am a god, and I can integrate myself back to visit the earthly existence once again. A smile grew on my face and I stopped my stroke. Floating in the water I decided right then to spend at least a few days on earth. I levitated out of my pool and toward my observatory. Up until now I simply used it to monitor human activity, but today I will use it to find a location and a group of humans to integrate myself with. I dried my body and stood before my observatory windows, watching the present time in every place on the plane. I wanted to be young, athletic and with a group that had fluid and constant access to each other. A university setting, of course! But where? Humans today seemed to enjoy fame, particularly with athletes, I should be in a university setting where a particular sporting match is popular and well-respected. My people had always reveled in the sport my fellow Titans created: wrestling. I should be a wrestler, of course. I had never visited the Americas before now, and I wanted to try a new location. I found a university with wrestling as a primary, popular sport near the east coast of the Americas and set my sights there. I could locate there in human form, but that would be difficult to integrate myself. Instead, I could share my powers and possess a male athlete already integrated, it would be perfect opportunity for me to have some fun, for the man would have already established any social necessities. I turned my focus to the athletic center of the university, where around 12 men were scrimmaging each other during their daily practices. I had not possessed a human in centuries, it would be best to take one of them while he was alone. One man stood out to me, someone of Greek heritage, a man named Lukas, someone who had a long string of Greek heritage. He was not the strongest of the sport, but he was on the team and had a fair set of friends. He also seemed to be a bit of a loner, not terribly social but people did recognize him. Perhaps I could help him establish himself as a true Power Player of the wrestling team. Yes, that would be my way of thinking him for lending me his body for a short while. I informed my demi god servants of my temporary absence and prepared myself for my journey. I could teleport myself into the human plane of existence, but I would need to be creative to possess this human and take on his form. I quickly moved to my chamber that bridged the plane of earth and set my course for the Americas. I stretched my body and prepared itself for metamorphosis, I would need to take on my form of pure energy to most effectively gain control of Lukas, it would be quick and painless for him. Actually, it would be quite pleasurable, any human gaining the awesome powers of a god would enjoy it. I smirked as my chamber began channeling the energy of my body out and toward the earth, perhaps the centuries in solitude has made me softer to the human condition. In the past I cared not for human feelings and sympathy, I simply ruled with my intent. But today I plan to take this human with care and compassion. I looked once more at my raw, nude body as my sculpted, muscular form broke apart and into waves of blue energy. I smiled as my body morphed apart, skin and muscle splitting into a blue blur of energy. “Take me to the Americas!” I ordered as the room rocketed my energetic form downward into the plane of human existence. II I wrapped myself into the energy cables that seemed to cloak every part of human life and traveled in them toward the university, into the athletic center and into the light fixtures above the gym. 8 mats lay evenly spaced apart as young, strapping collegiate athletes pushed their own bodies and that of their foes to their fullest athletic ability. These men held the same passion for sport, for respect of the male form, and for athletic camaraderie that the humans I ruled over used to have. These were men who respected and were proud of their bodies, they were the perfect vessels for me. Lukas was out of breath, his muscles ached, but he was able to pin his opponent Victor against his own odds. He was able to exhaust Victor as he slammed him in a last pin, claiming victory for himself. “Damn dude!” Victor said, out of breath, “you've been training hard, man, you got the strength! Can't wait for our competition tomorrow, I think you're going to rock it!” Lukas also out of breath answered, “thanks Vic, that was fun man.” Victor laughed, “hey dude! I know you're not in a frat or nuthin but we gotta party going on at the house tonight. You should stop by. I know you haven't been yourself since Mercedes broke up with you. We're gonna have the girls over tonight, might be nice to get laid before the big meet tomorrow, ya know?” he added with a toothy grin. Lukas shrugged him off, “yeah we'll see man, I'm tryin to get over her ya know?” Coach called Lukas before he could finish a conversation. “Lukas, I need you to condition your quads before heading back to the locker room. Rest of you men, run 3 miles then hit the showers!” Vic gave Lukas a slap on his ass as the other guys headed toward the track. With Lukas alone I should be able to take his form with ease. I traveled through the walls and electrical structure following the young man to the weight room where he hooked up a quad machine and started pumping his legs. He wasn't as big as Victor or the other wrestlers, but he had his own stature, and as I watched him pump the machine in his singlet I was reminded of the warriors I used to train. Lukas had dark, short hair and thick tuft of arm hair underneath his pits. He would have had hair on his chest and legs too but he shaved it. The guy was a jock in every sense of the word, but he was not the arrogant, stereotypical showoff I was used to seeing in other men. Lukas grunted with each pump of the machine, I could read into his head he was considering going to the frat party, he wanted to be social, but he also took his sport seriously. The thought of being with a girl was arousing him, and he started having memories of his sexual escapades with his former girlfriends. His dick started rustling under his jockstrap and he felt it best to hold off on his fantasies until later. Lukas stretched himself in the weight room and looked at himself in the mirror. He was the only one in the room, and he started flexing to see his physique. He smirked as he moved his forearms up and down, looking at the tension in his arms, his sweat shining on his skin, his sinew bulking up and down tightly against him. Lukas turned to see if anyone was around, deciding to get creative. He took his left arm and pulled down his right tank, sliding his arm from underneath it before doing the same with the left. His sweat stuck his skin close to his singlet but he was able to roll it down across his pecs and down to his abdomen, exposing his thinly defined six pack and a shaven, shaped treasure trail below his belly button. He crunched his abs and examined his back, flexing his shoulders to see how much muscle he had gained. “Not bad,” he told himself. I respected this young man, he was proud of his body. I realized now was just a good a time as any to merge with him. I just needed him to touch something that could let me connect with him. I flickered the lights in the weight room to get his attention then cut the power off of the lights. “Shit,” he said, “did the power go out?” I turned on the emergency light right above the light switch. If he were to touch it, I could reach out and into him. Lukas looked at the switch, contemplating to turn it. “Yes, Lukas, touch it!” I whispered into his subconscious. He walked toward the switch and I began anticipating the ritual I had not done performed in centuries. I could feel a flutter of excitement wrack through my form. “This is it,” I told myself. Sweat dripping off of Lukas, his exposed upper body walking toward me, I beckoned for him to reach out. As soon as his finger hit the switch I moved beyond the wall and touched his finger, a blue spark of electricity gracing the human. “Mmm,” I told myself as a wave of orgasmic pleasure hit me. I sorely missed this. I branched out of the wall and covered his hand as Lukas's eyes opened wide. “Holy shit!” he shouted, “What is the fuck is happening!?” Forcing myself onto his arm I started to move up his body, covering him in my electric power. The young man's body felt shapely and well-defined. He wasn't a muscular behemoth but that wouldn't be a problem, I could certainly help him with that. I wrapped around his neck and onto his head before covering myself over his pecs and abs, wrapping over his singlet and down his legs and feet. Feeling the entire body was nearly orgasmic, but I had to integrate with him. “Oh! Wow!” he said, feeling new surges of energy on his skin, “Oh fuck what is this?!” I lifted the human off the ground as he twitched his body in pleasure, Lukas's breathing started accelerating as my energy diffused around him faster and faster like a tornado picking up a toy. I dug underneath the signlet and toward the man's loins, ripping the fabric and causing it to fall to the ground. “Uhh!” Lukas shouted, he was starting to enjoy this and didn't mind exposing his whole body to my power. I graced his exposed ass within his jockstrap as it began to fray from the violent power surrounding him, but I needed the man truly naked to take his form. Picking up speed, I dug into his strap and ripped it off, let his large package hang free, whipped around my cyclical power. “Rarr!” Lukas shouted as he tensed his muscles and flexed his arms. I felt his dick and wrapped between his legs and up his ass crack. This human was in great form, but I was going to improve him. Pushing my energy, I dug immediately into his body, thrusting myself through his pores into his nervous system. I moved into his form, flowing into his body gaining control of his muscles, thoughts and consciousness. “Umm, moree!” he shouted as he felt me enter his mind, “YES! OH FUCK, A GOD YES I WANT MORE!” he shouted again, lost in his own wrath of pure power pleasure as his brain wrecked with my own consciousness. I pushed my power into Lukas, starting at his arms, buldging his forearms with power as veins snaked down them, regrowing his dark hair thickening on his skin. His sinew wrapped up his arm and into his shoulders as his pecs swelled and bulged with power, his skin tone darkening to a warrior-like golden hue. My powers then dug into his abs, expanding his flattening pecs engrooving his abdomen into a tight, well defined eight pack. Lukas rubbed his bulging hands across them as his midsection widened and shoulder broadened, expanding his upper body. “Oh fuck yeah!” he shouted through the wave of power surrounding him. Our minds met. "OHHHH God! Yes! YES, it's ARGH, Zeus! Fuck yeah! The powers of Zeus!" Lukas shouted as his breathing increased, his body taking in my powers. Lukas stretched his levitating body, lurching taller, his growth giving him inches in height. His arms stretched downward as he watched his body swell and grow like never before, thickening as his chest and lats continued to heave with every deep intensely pleasurable gasp of breath. Lukas looked between his legs as they began to pump and grow outward, football-sized quads hardening between his dick and balls as his shins tightened with muscle and feet grew outward. His formerly shaven legs began pushing his dark hair out with aggression, covering his legs and reaching up toward his now shaking cock and balls. His adonis belt tightened, creating a deep arrow directly toward his package, chiseling out this warrior form. His cock pushed out with power as it moved to the right and thickened with increasing girth. His balls began dropping lower from the verility of godly seed I was feeding into him. I entered my consciousness into his as I began to feel the human's body, his mind, his alignment with my all powerful abilities. “RARRR!” I shouted as I blinked his eyes and flexed his muscles. I had forgotten just how good it felt to be human! “OH YEAH!” I shouted again, lowering myself to the floor as I ran my hands across my new naked and bulked body. “Umm, yes,” I said again, “this feels fuckin good! Why didn't I do this sooner!” I looked at the mirror and began posing every possible muscular show off I could, stretching my back, wrapping my arms around me, crunching my abs and quads. I ran my hands down to my package and felt my dick and balls, remembering how good the sex organ felt. I shut my eyes as I touched my uncircumcised head, “I forgot some humans do this now, feels good,” I said. I crunched my butt and gave it a solid slap before turning around. This was going to be a fun week. III I picked up Lukas's tattered clothing and began walking toward the locker room when I could sense a human working his way toward me. “It's Freddy, another wrestler, a freshmen,” I told myself, sensing who it was. He was going to catch me nude and truly ripped. I could turn invisible. Or I could have a human to have a little fun with. Freddy approached the bottom of the stairs and saw me fully naked and ripped my arms crossed, in a pose to wait for him. He considered turning around but couldn't help but stare at me. “Uhh, Lukas? Is that you?” he asked. “Fuck yeah, man! I've been pumping up my body where you've been?” I answered. “Uhh, I just needed to lift some before tomorrow's meet. Coach said I gotta bulk up.” “Yeah you do,” I answered, a smirk on my face. “What happened to you?” Freddy answered, walking slowly, his guard somewhat down, now. “You're fuckin ripped, what did you do to yourself?” I didn't know how to answer that so I just said, “hard work, my friend! I was posing after I finished pumping the weights and my singlet ripped. Hope you don't mind I'm naked.” Freddy looked me over once again and gulped. If he wouldn't have known me he would have been intimidated, but he also couldn't look away, I was lusting him in ways he had never felt before. I smirked again, “hey man, I'll help you condition for tomorrow, hop on the press,” I said, pointing toward the bench. “I'll spot.” Freddy was in a t-shirt and shorts with a jockstrap on underneath. He wanted to look like me, he wanted to be me, he wanted to anything he could to get like me. So he excitedly agreed and hit the bench. I spotted him for a few rounds of pumping, Freddy driven to try harder and harder as he looked at my naked form. “How did you get like that?” He asked. “Can I have some of that, even 10% of your power,” he said. “Let's train,” I answered, “I'll show you some moves on the mat and maybe you can gain some of this physique.” I wanted an opportunity to share with him some of my strength, and this was the perfect way to get me laid and to get him some of my power. Freddy walked out toward the mat and positioned himself, but I crossed my arms and stared. He looked up at me. “What?” he asked. “Am I doing something wrong?” “You wanna be a greek warrior, right?” I answered, pointing to my body. “Get naked we're wrestling like real men did in the days of the true warriors!” Freddy's mouth dropped but his lust for me took over. He had only ever been naked before in the locker room, never actually on a mat. But he realized that he allowed his buddy Lukas to remain naked during his conditioning in the weight roomnow, why not get naked too? He let Lukas stay naked because he liked it, and with Lukas's suggestion he was starting to like the idea of being naked himself. He shrugged off his t-shirt exposing his sweaty arms and glistening chest. He kicked off his tennis shoes and slid his sweaty socks off of his brown, hairy legs. The guy was short but had muscular physique. He wasn't afraid to show himself and he wanted to further condition too. “Well, you went all out,” Freddy said, “I guess I should too.” Freddy dropped his gym shorts before stretching his jockstrap out and pushing it to the floor, stepping out in his own naked form. He fluffed his dick and clapped his hands. “We're true warriors, huh?” he asked. “Let's fuckin wrestle then!” We both took a starting pose and ran into each other, using our energy to try to pin the other. I could have easily taken him down but wanted the guy to enjoy this moment. We knocked our naked bodies together, grabbing each other in the back and on the ass to pin each other down. I let Freddy flip me over as he landed on my back. As he did I felt his full erection against my lower back, pulsing with each fast heart beat against me, booming over and over in rapid succession. I smiled, this human was enjoying this body as much as I was. I flipped him back over and kneel above him as he looked at me wide-eyed. “You have a big boner there, Fred,” I said, nodding down to his dick. “Look at you, Lukas!” He shouted between breaths, “how could I not with a body like that?” “You want some of this?” I asked with a smile. “Fuck yeah! But how?” Freddy answered. I gave my dick a couple of tugs and let it grow out, its girth gaining bloodflow and thickening as it went horizontal and began pointing high toward the ceiling. I wrapped my arms around him and picked him up like a ragdoll, the man going limp with confusion and letting me take over his body at my will. I pushed him against the wall and sat my erected dick against his back, feeling his hairy butt and reaching around to his dick. “This is going to give you the body you want,” I whispered as I entered into him, Freddy grunting with pleasure as my ever-powerful dick melded into his form. I could feel my powers brewing within my body, preparing itself to transform Freddy into a mortal but muscle behemoth. “Yes, Zeus, give it to me!” Freddy said, connecting with my mind, “I want your powers!” I rocked my hips as I felt a mortal orgasm build within me. I had forgotten how good it truly felt. I ordered my immortal seed to deposit muscular growth into Freddy and I shot load after load into him, hearing him gasp with pleasure as he felt my power building inside of him. “Oh fuck! YEAH! YEEEAAAHHHH HAHAHAH!” he started shouting as his voice moved into lower octaves. “The POWER!” Freddy started twisted as his body exploded with muscle, shoving his ass free of my dick. His sinew running from his bulking and square ass down his quads and up to his abs, back, pecs and shoulders. He stretched his arms and saw them bulk thicker and thicker as his neck widened and hair grew over his chest, down to his ass and between his legs. Freddy grabbed his package as he felt his penis explode with pleasure, growing downward as his scrotum accommodated for the weight in his growing testicles. “Mmmm,” he said, reality sinking back into him as he looked around. “Lukas, Zeus, whoever you are, thank you,” he said. He grabbed me and took his dick, pushing it against my legs. “I'm fuckin behemoth, now! How long...” he asked. “I will return to my plane on Olympus in 3 days, you will return to your former self at that time,” I answered, “you will not remember this physique and this event with much detail, you understand why.” Freddy didn't seem to mind, “gotta have some fun for the next few days, then!” he said. “Where are you going now? What are you doing tonight?” His energy was surging with excitement. “Off to the locker room now, my friend!” I shouted, “most of our team is still in the showers. I think there's some more worthy men I would like to share this with.” “You're the boss,” Freddy said, “lead the way!”

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“Can I lick it, Danny?” There was a need in his eyes—a look I was familiar with. The one asking was a good-looking guy. Standing at 5’ 9” he was of average height. He did possess a great solid pair of pecs, broad globes for shoulders, well-worked arms, and above average legs. He even had a hard high and round ass on him. I made the choice to meet him at the bar tonight, I needed to throw some water on the fire of my own needs. Maybe he would fill that need I had growing inside of me. I hadn’t been able to identify the feelings I had been having lately, but whatever it was, I was looking for something to quench them. I knew, within 2 minutes of idle chat that he would be a decent fuck, but nothing more. What a shame. I knew that deep inside me—inside my soul—a ravenous, almost-crazed beast was circling its holding cell. I had felt it stir for years and still didn’t understand it completely. Whatever it was, it was becoming more familiar, more “me,” more of what I want, and more of what I could be. What I could feed it tonight would only appease my most basic and fundamental physical need, nothing more, something like handing the pacing suppressed tiger one of those horribly insufficient cracker snacks they hand out on airplane flights. It was something, but it only served to create a deeper hunger. The thing in me was becoming more powerful, more needy, more…unpredictable. At the same time, that deep desire fed so many of my actions. I was searching for something but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was. Ultimately, tonight had been nothing more than an ego stroke, or maybe better put—something to take the edge off. I really didn’t have much of an ego, per se. Most people would be shocked to know that I really struggle with my self-esteem. Of course, they base this purely on my physical appearance. I’ve worked out so hard for the past few years. It has been hard since I had been so thin growing up. But the thing inside of me, when it was still a quiet voice, slowly began making demands that I grow in strength and size. I obeyed. I am very good at obeying the voice now. At 6’7” and close to 280 pounds, I was what most would call “head-turning.” Maybe I was handsome, maybe not (I suppose that really depends on who is making the judgment) but my body was something I had worked hard on. I had very broad shoulders. I had enormous arms; I paid equal attention to my triceps and biceps. The results were quite impressive. My legs were full hard pillars that made the seams nearly rip on my pants. My waist had always been small, and still it measured about 32 inches. For my height and weight, it really was hard finding clothes that fit well in the waist. My ass was powerful. I could admit that. It was a product of deep squats and hundreds of hours of lunges. And then there was my chest. I had seen grown men drool at the ham-sized bags of hard flesh that erupted from my collarbone and bulged out several inches. My nipples stood erect at the outside bottom corners of my remarkably globular chest muscles. I was mostly lean, but had just a bit of extra padding that prevented much definition of my abs. It was my trouble spot. Some thought I was a sight to behold. Some thought that I was too big. I would get stares frequently from men and women alike. I took it as a compliment, but it never really mattered. Something was missing. But the beast inside of me kept egging me on. And so I kept lifting, and eating…and from time to time, I would pin myself with some good ol’ testosterone. My desire to become bigger, stronger, massive increased and escalated. I began to feel recently that my desire for growth, strength, and power was exponentially increasing. I couldn’t imagine ever thinking I could be too powerful, too huge, too freaky. It wasn’t possible. But again, I had always felt that a piece to the puzzle was missing. Something that I had only recently began to realize. “Seriously Danny. I want to lick it.” My trick for the night had a pleading look in his eyes. I raised my left arm again and flexed my forearm for him. He let out a deep guttural groan. The definition in my forearms was really quite something. Ridges and deep valleys ran from my thick wrist to my bulging elbow becoming meatier as they reached toward the bicep. A vast network of veins pulsed beneath my skin. Large vessels permanently traversed my arms but when I flexed, countless smaller veins emerged from their bed just below my very thin skin. His tongue (I don’t even know his name) went straight for the hard meat bulging outward from my flexed forearm. I could sense his desire. He was jacking off with his right hand. His left was pinching my right nipple. It felt good on some level to be worshipped for the hard-won meat that had sent him nearly into muscle induced trance. “Oh my fuck. I want you to fuck me so bad, Danny. So hard.” His breath was ragged. Mine was too. I had let myself get hard as he licked my arm. It felt good—though not satisfying. “I bet with that ass, you could fuck a hole through a steel door.” I could smell the lust oozing from his sweat. He grabbed my rising cock in his hand and stroked it lightly. Maybe this would be worth it after all. “Holy fuck, Danny. Your cock is huge man…and your balls. Fuck man.” He had descended into full worship. His eyes traveled from my forearm down to my now-tumescent pole. It was definitely a grower – not that it started out small. But like the rest of me, it was thick and of appropriate size. He looked into my big hazel eyes again and then lowered his head onto my cock. His mouth was warm and wet. He was a talented cock sucker. Jacking me off with one hand, sliding down my pole with his mouth as it followed the hand all the way to the base where my cock connected to my body. His other hand cupped my balls. I had to admit, they were big boys. At 6’7”, anyone’s nuts would need to be big to be in proportion, but mine were large, even for my size. I could feel them beginning to churn their heavy load. I didn’t have much control of this, I told myself. I was quickly reaching autopilot even if this wasn’t how I hoped tonight would end up. His hand left my churning bull balls and reached up to twist my nipple again. He pulled his hot mouth off of my surging cock, “Danny, you got to fuck me man. I just have to have you inside of me. I want you to tear me up. Break me in half, Danny. PLEASE!” If I hadn’t been so horny at the moment, I wouldn’t take his pleading as a bit of a turn-off, but here I was, shorts around my ankles getting sucked and teased by an attractive guy. The beast inside of me paced back and forth in its cage, quieting down as the physical need to cum began to build. None of this felt right but like I said…autopilot. The guy crawled onto the bed from his knees where he had been. He stuck his round, high, hard ass into the air and I descended on him. I wasn’t after foreplay here. I needed to get off. I pushed my cock into him with ease. This was obviously not his first time taking a throbbing muscular cock up his ass. I pumped him a few times, enjoying the sensation of my shaft drilling deep into his hole. I was close. I vaguely remember some shouting, “harder, harder, fuck yeah!” I threw back my head, shut my eyes, and released my cream into him. I filled him up. Then I fell asleep. I never could stay awake after cumming hard. The next morning, I woke up in my bed. The guy must have left after he got what he needed from me. Nothing had been stolen that I could see, so that was good. It was time to work out. The tiger was circling the cage again. I could feel something building inside of me. The feeling of deep need, desire, and emptiness felt more acute today. It was almost unbearable. A good session of heavy lifting usually helped. When I arrived at the gym, it was still quiet. Most people don’t seem to arrive very early on a Saturday so I had most of the place to myself. There were a few younger guys over by the dumb bells, a few middle-aged women walking on the treadmills, and me. My lifting partner was out of town for the weekend but I was happy enough today doing my routine solo. And then there was that strange beast inside of me that was acting up today. Whenever I felt that strange anxiousness, I worked my chest. It seemed to calm me. Maybe that is why they had developed so well. They were practically utters—hard fucking utters. I put my earbuds in and blocked out the world. Lowering myself to the bench, I put on 195 for warm-ups. I knocked a set out lightning fast. I got up to put a few more plates on and glanced toward the door. Someone else was coming in. I hope it didn’t get too busy. There was only one flat bench in the place—an issue that I had repeatedly asked the owner to rectify. A few minutes later, as I lay down flat, eyes closed, imagining my next lift, I heard a distant voice. “Excuse me.” I could only hear it distantly through the music I was listening to. My eyes snapped open and I saw a face looking down at me with a smile. I hate being interrupted while I lift. And besides that, it’s rude to interrupt when someone is about to start their set. I sat up and pulled the buds out of my ears and swung around to face the offending party. “Do you mind if I work in with you?” I stared up at his eyes, deep brown and looking directly at mine. He didn’t flinch. It surprised me a bit. I was obviously much larger than he was. Standing at maybe 5’10” he had dark Mediterranean features—Italian or Spanish I would guess—full lips, exotic eyes, high broad cheekbones, and a square jaw. He wasn’t built big like me, but he was obviously no stranger to the weights. Maybe a thick swimmers build would describe him best. I couldn’t look away. Neither did he. Something was happening as he looked at me. I don’t know if he was aware of it. In fact, it seemed he wasn’t. But I was. His voice was deep and thick like a rich cup of hot chocolate and it licked my ears. “Are you OK?” His voice wrapped itself around my balls and started tugging. God, I couldn’t break his stare, but I wanted to. He just held me there. “I’m going to work in with you.” His statement was not a question. A smile spread across his face revealing perfect white teeth. My heart was racing. What was happening? He took his track jacket off revealing his workout tank top. He had good definition and size upon looking more closely. Something about him made me hesitant to look too long though. I felt…exposed, as if he could see into me. His glance had an almost physical nature—it caressed me. “I’ll jump in after this set. Go ahead. I’ll spot you.” It was a light weight for me since I didn’t have a workout partner that day, but I didn’t protest. I lay back on the bench, placed my hands in their correct position on the bar and looked up. His flat stomach was just above me. I could see the obvious and large bulge in his shorts only a few inches from my head. This guy must be three-quarters donkey with that kind of equipment. And I could smell his musk. He smelled like a man, freshly clean, but emitting powerful pheromones. He smelled like heaven and sex and strength. I couldn’t begin to describe it. It smelled like unapologetic authority. I could see his chest slightly overhang and press out against his shirt, expanding and contracting with every breath. He didn’t have huge pecs like I did, but they were perfect for his size. He looked down at me and smiled again. “Go ahead.” Without thinking, I found the bar in my hands lifted to the ceiling ready to begin my set. I hadn’t even thought about the lift…it just happened. I pumped out 15 reps – the weight was light—and something inside of me wanted to show off a little bit. “OK Big Man, let me have a go.” When he said Big Man, the beast inside began shaking and rattling at its cage. That’s the only way I could describe it. Something was building inside of me, and it was building quickly. What was it about him? God, I just couldn’t even think straight around him. I moved away from the bench and he got on. I was starting to sweat a bit, even thought the weight was light. My heart was racing. He started pumping out his reps, breathing in and exhaling, I watched his body, admiring his form. His arms were covered with thick dark hair. His chest was getting a good pump as were his triceps. And that huge package…my mouth went dry every time I glanced that direction. Standing over him seemed wrong somehow. But I had a job to do, and if he faltered for even a second, I would be there to be sure he was all right. He finished his set and jumped off the bench. “How much do you want to go up to?” He asked with that smile on his face. “Ummmm. Let’s add four more plates. My name’s Danny by the way.” It all came out quickly like it was one word. Shit, I was tongue-tied. Embarrassing. I was close to my max with the new amount of weight, but I wanted to impress him. He seemed nonplussed, but I thought I detected a grin when I told him how many plates to add. I got back on the bench. “OK Danny.” My heart shot up into my throat. I could feel my cock getting hard. He just said my name and it sounded like a velvet-covered finger stroking my ass. “Go ahead.” I pushed out most of the set without slowing. I started faltering on the last couple of reps. He looked down at me and simply said, “More.” I didn’t even think about the weight or counting my reps. I did at least 5 or 6 more reps. I could feel my pecs pressing out against my shirt, nipples hard and erect and scraping themselves against the fabric as it stretched out from the insane pump I was getting. I was dripping sweat. My upper body felt fucking amazing and completely engorged. God, I felt strong. He made me feel strong. This guy. Whoever he was. He made me feel invincible. Fuck. I could hardly hear anything, my heart was pumping hard. The beast inside was banging at the gate. “That was good.” He said it simply, but locked eyes with me again as he said it and I knew that he was satisfied with what he told me to do. I looked at him and then looked away. We worked out the rest of the session separated. I kept looking over to what he was doing. I wanted to be working out with him, but he hadn’t invited me and I was not about to intrude. He had a powerful looking ass himself, likely built in this very room. I bet he had some impressive thrust too. My vision blurred as I imagined him entering me with force, my hole enveloping his impressive cock. I snapped out of my daydream only to find a half-erection and my hands rubbing my pecs and twisting my sensitive nipples subconsciously. I was leaking precum. I couldn’t believe I had zoned out like that in public. I looked over to where he was and saw that he was staring at me with that smile on his face. I turned away. My cheeks were red and my erection withered away. Fuck…he saw. I walked into the locker room a few minutes later. I couldn’t believe that I had been fantasizing like that in the middle of the gym. Shit. And HE saw it all. “Hey Danny. Looks like you were feeling good out there.” The guy was opening his locker just a couple down from mine. “It’s all good. Don’t be embarrassed. You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. I liked the show.” He flashed me that mischievous smile again. “My name’s Brandon.” I was having tunnel vision. Brandon extended his hand to shake mine. The beast inside of me was raging, banging at the door, shouting for release. I could barely hear myself think. I took his hand and looked in his eyes. He looked at me, almost seriously. “Are you OK, Danny?” There it was again. My name wrapped in silk. He was licking my hard nipples, kissing my mouth, ramming my ass—all with his voice. “Danny?” My eyes had glazed over. I could tell. I was in a different place. What was happening to me? “Yes?” I said plainly. Distantly. Fuck, the beast was coming through the door. Brandon was letting it out. Brandon. Brandon. My mind went blank and the world became sharply focused. Something had just happened. Something…shifted inside of me. Shifted – that’s the best word for it. Brandon. His name repeated over and over in my head. Brandon reached out to shake me awake, I remember that now. He put his hand on my shoulder. “Danny?” My eyes snapped open and looked up but not at him. I couldn’t look him in the eyes. I was barely worthy to be this close to him. Things had just changed for me. I wasn’t afraid of the beast any more. I was the beast. The beast now belonged to Brandon. I was now Brandon’s—Brandon’s property to do with what he desired. Everything was clear. I felt overwhelming calm and devastating power pouring through every cell in my body. “Danny, take your clothes off and go get in the shower.” I didn’t think. I only responded. Almost before the last word was out of his mouth, I reached up to my collar and pulled the almost-too-tight t-shirt off of my body in one quick movement. The shirt ripped cleanly down my chest and my hulking torso was laid bare. I was in a trance almost. My thumbs snagged the waistband of my shorts and pulled ripping them off of me. My cock went from soft to hardest-in-my-life in about 5 seconds. I started dripping viscous ribbons of precum honey. Long strands of it flowed from my cock head to the ground. I was not even thinking. I did not have to think. I only had to do what he said. I was in nirvana. I stood there for a moment, hoping that he approved of my body. My chest was pumped beyond anything I had felt before. My arms and shoulders had striations threatening to burst of the skin. My legs were quivering with strength and power. Veins crossed over their surface. I could feel my traps straining to reach my ears. Every part of my body sought his approval. His glance dismissed me to the shower stalls but I noticed a small, almost imperceptible glimmer in his eye and the slightest smile. I kept looking down and backed away, walked to the shower and got in. I was so hard. No one had ever turned me on more—not even remotely. And he had only said my name and given me a simple command. I showered quickly, rinsing myself off. I knew he was waiting for me. I dried off in the stall and walked back to the bank of lockers around the corner. He stood there, eyes drilling into my soul. He was appraising me. Weighing, measuring, assessing, making judgments, pondering, I don’t know what else. It wasn’t my concern. My only concern was his will. What he desired, wanted, needed. I felt cock rising again and my fuck hole quiver. It was hungry for him. Only he could fill me—emotionally, mentally, and physically. He took a step toward me, looking up into my avoidant eyes. He was so close; I could feel his warm sweet breath on my chest. Galactic power coursed through my thick hard bull muscles fed by angry thickening ropes of veins and arteries. “Tell me what you’re thinking about, Danny.” * I am adding a photo of my muse, Danny, on the weight bench so you can have an idea of what you will be reading about, and J/O'ing to for the rest of the story. You're welcome. There are also some more photos on the second page of comments that I added.

This story is coming to an end. Got some hot stuff here. Enjoy! Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Thursday. Cardio, Biceps, and Back Day: Part 5 It is 9:45. Troy and I are standing in the weight room drenched in sweat. I’m pumped as fuck. We ran 2 miles this morning and decided to work chest and back afterwards. We are 15 minutes into our bicep workout. I can see the veins in Troy’s blood pumping with blood with each dumbbell curl and his arms aren’t all that’s pumping with blood. His cock is obviously hard through his running shorts, which are so short that they barely reach the middle of his thigh. I see his meat twitch with every curl and in a way I can feel his alpha energy radiating from his body. I have two 40 pound dumbbells and he has two 45 pound ones. His biceps are obviously stronger than mine. His rock hard biceps are burning read as he curls and I wish so much to be as big as him. We finish our last set and I pat him on the back. It is still drenched with sweat from our run, but I don’t care. “Fuck bro, your biceps are swole as ever,” I say. “Thanks man,” he says. “But look at yourself. Those are boulders. Flex those babies.” He looks in the mirror and flexes his bicep. I flex both of my biceps. I am wearing a black stringer tank top and the flexing reveals my hard pecs and with both biceps flexed, I look amazing. Troy’s eyes light up. “Shit bro!” he says. “I need to get a pic of this!” He takes out his camera and we strike the same pose. “Look at the two of us alphas.” He says this while showing me the picture. “Two powerful bros, ready to crush all of those that get in our way.” “Me, an alpha?” I say. “Yeah dude!” he basically yells. “Look at these arms!” he says and grabs holds of both of my biceps. “You’re a beast!” I don’t know how to respond to this, but before I can Troy gets a message on his phone. He looks down at his phone and his eyes open wide. “Holy shit, man! I got an internship in Superset City!” “WHAT?!?” I am shocked. Superset City is the fitness capital of the entire United States. The only people that live there are pro bodybuilders, extreme fitness enthusiasts, and basically anyone with a bod worth showing. “I got an internship in the swollest city in the word! Fuck!!” He is shaking with excitement. “When will you leave?” I say. I am a bit panicked. Troy can’t just leave. “Next Fall is our senior year. Dude, you should apply. I don’t have a roommate yet and it would be cool to be able to work out and chill with you every day!” “Really?” “Yeah, man! Just promise me you’ll think about it” I hesitate. I never thought about doing an internship, but to go away with Troy would be amazing. I don’t know why he wants me to go, but I don’t want to let him down. “I’ll think about it.” I say. “Great!” We continue to work out. Troy is even more pumped than before and we charge our way through the rest of our biceps and back workouts. We are burnt out by 10:45 and in a desperate need to shower. Troy follows me into the locker room. I no longer feel nervous when I go in here alone with him and I immediately begin stripping. Once my clothes are off I see that Troy is already naked too. He stands directly behind me and I know he is looking at me. “Wow man,” he says. “I feel like you are swelling up every time I see you.” I turn around and look at him. He stands in front of me fully erect and I feel like I could ask him anything at this moment. He just doesn’t seem to give a fuck that his showing me his all. I look down at his hard abs. They are protruding from his stomach, each individual muscle begging to me caressed. His cock points straight to the ceiling and is oozing with pre-cum. My dick starts to stiffen up and I see his eyes twitch down towards it. “Like what you see, bro?” he asks. This question shocks me. How do I respond to such a question? Should I tell him that his hard body turns me on or would that ruin our friendship? I decide to try to turn the conversation. “Dude, you look great, but I need to take care of this hard on,” I say. “I always feel like busting one after a good workout.” He looks at me inquisitively and slowly begins to move forward, his eyes never leaving mine. He stands right in front of me and I see him debate something in his mind. His eyes are full of questions and then suddenly a look of remorse comes over him as if he suddenly changed his mind about something. He backs away slightly and walks towards the showers. “Let’s go man!” he says over his shoulder. I watch his tight ass as he walks away. Fuck. My cock is dripping just thinking about those swollen globes. I follow behind him and get into the second shower, He is in the first and I hear him turn on the water. I turn mine on and thinking about his ass I start stroking my cock. I feel so close already. Suddenly my curtain is open and I am shocked. My hand is immediately off my erect dick and I turn around. TROY IS STANDING IN THE SHOWER WITH ME!! “You know… Out of all the muscles on your body that I have touched,” he says, creeping slowly towards me. “I have never touched this one.” He slowly reaches his right hand down and wraps it around my cock. Fuck! What is happening? He begins to stroke me and my body is filled with immense pleasure. His other hand begins to play with my nipples. I feel so good that I don’t know how to reacted, so I just melt into his hands. He begins to stroke faster and faster and his left hand beings to feel my abs. I begin to shake, my climax is building. “There it is big guy,” he says, “Let it all out. Show me what an alpha’s cock can do!” My cock bursts! Hot white streaks splatter Troy’s chest, dripping down onto his own cock and I finally let in a gasp of air. I fall back against the wall soaking wet. “Nice, bro!” he says and steps out of my shower and back into his. I’m still shaking as I hear him begin to moan. I finish cleaning and I know he is done when he turns his water off. I wait a minute, still lost in thought and then I turn off my water and go out to get changed. I don’t speak as I get dressed. I don’t know what to say, but then I remember his text about wrestling from yesterday. “So dude, you still wanna wrestle tonight after dinner?” I say “That’s right!” he says. “Heck yah man! I don’t have a singlet, I hope you don’t mind if I don’t wear one.” “Nah man, that’s cool. I just won’t wear mine.” “No! You have to wear it dude! I love that thing on your bod. It shows off the best of you.” “You mean my dick?” I say and laugh. “That’s just one of the good parts,” he says and laughs also. Well, at least he likes my dick. That’s good. Right? Troy’s phone begins to go off and he looks down at it. The light in his eyes die down as he ignores the call. I notice that his attitude is a little damp. “You ok, man? I ask. “Everything is cool,” Troy says anxiously. I can tell that everything is not cool “What wrong?” I’m just a bit worried about my relationship. My girlfriend is worried that I will get too big and she doesn’t want to date anyone bigger than me.” “So what does that mean?” “She wants me to stop working out.” What?! That’s crazy as fuck.” “Agreed.” “Well I hope you guys can work it out,” I say although it is a lie. “Thanks, bro,” he says. We begin our walk out of the gym and plan to meet to wrestle an hour after dinner. It wasn’t until dinner time that I heard from my friend Angelica, who had heard from Cassidy, who had heard from Joy that Troy and his girlfriend had broken up, not even an hour after the two of us had left the gym.

Hey guys here is part three of A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains. Here is the link to part two. https://muscle-growth.org/topic/8710-a-college-weight-room-story-the-path-to-gains%C2%A0/#comment-89862 Enjoy! A College Weight Room Story: The Path to Gains Part 3 Outside. Tuesday Morning. Cardio and Abs Day: I wake up to my phones alarm at 8:45. I grab it from underneath my pillow and turn the alarm off. There’s a text from Troy. Troy: Morning bro. I’ll be at your front door a couple minutes before 9. Be prepared. It’s a nice day out. I jump out of bed and take off my clothes; my roommate has left for his early class so I have the freedom to walk around my room naked. I go into my bottom dresser drawer where I keep all of my gym gear and throw on a pair of black compression pants and a blue stringer tank top. Then I grab some black gym shorts and drag them over the compression pants. It would feel weird running in just the compression pants themselves. I can’t have the imprint of my dick visible for the whole campus to see. Before I leave my room, I look into the mirror. Perfect, the stringer hangs low enough to keep my pecs visible. The juicy round globes burst through the stringer and I’m not even pumped. Next, I grab a small bag and fill it with spare clothes and put it on my back, then I go downstairs and head for the front door. I check my phone as I open the door and I see Troy has texted me again. He’s already outside. I go out and he’s standing in my driveway wearing a fitted grey shirt and a pair of fitted bright yellow compression shorts that show a clear imprint of his heavy cock and balls. What… how… why is he wearing that outside? I can’t believe my eyes. He wears the shorts as if showing off his junk is a normal part of his day and I try not to look down at his cock. I gather my thoughts and try to behave normally. “You got here fast,” I say. “I woke up early and I was so pumped that I had to get here!” “Let’s do this then!” I reply excitedly. I really want him to turn around so my eyes stop wandering to forbidden places. “Yeah, let’s go!” he says and immediately turns around and breaks into a run. I start running and follow closely behind. Oh shit, now I have his tight ass to look at. Squats have really been doing him justice. I can see each ripple of his chiseled glutes through the yellow shorts. I try to focus on something else and I raise my eyes to his back. I can see his mountainous traps poking through the tight grey shirt, riding their way up his thick neck and I crave traps of that size. I need to have traps that huge. I notice darker spots appearing on his shirt and he begins to slow down to an eventual stop. “That’s one mile down,” he says. “One more to go.” He then strips off his shirt, revealing his solid abs and finely haired chest. He has a little happy trail that doesn’t take away from the marvel, but increases it. It makes him seem manlier. He turns and run again. I try to focus on other things as we run: the science buildings, the freshman dorms, the trees, the nice 70 degree weather, but his recent shirtlessness has all of my attention. I stare at every inch of his back as we run. His entire back seems to be flexed as he runs and I wish I could stand and punch it repeatedly to feel the power I know it holds. We stop in front of my house again after two miles and I am beat. “Alright,” I say between breaths. “That wasn’t so bad. Now I need to go to the gym and work on abs.” “Abs?” he asks. “I actually need to work my abs, bro. Can I come with?” “Hell yeah, bro! Why not?” We walk to the gym from my house. Troy puts his grey shirt back on and a little bit of my anxiety shrinks. I was starting to lose it from seeing him shirtless. It’s a short walk; takes less than 2 minutes. We show the desk worker our ID’s and head into the weight room. “So what do you usually do for abs?” Troy asks. “I start off with weighted ab crunches,” I say as I walk over to the weight rack and grab a 45 pound plate. “Ready, bro?” “Wow man, that’s a lot of weight. How many reps do you do?” “40.” “Jeeze.” He looks nervously at me. “I’ll try.” My world suddenly stops for 2.5 seconds. Did he just say he will try? I think I may have just found his weakness…Abs. He grabs a 45 pound plate and we make our way over to the floor mats. We both lay on a mat and begin doing crunches. Troy seems fine in the beginning, but he begins to slow down. He stops at around 26 reps, but I keep pushing. He looks over at me as he lies on his back with eyes that subtly hint at jealousy. “Damn Von, your abs are stronger than mine!” I push to 40 and then lay back, breathing heavily. “I know you have 3 more sets in you,” I say. His eyes basically pop out of his face when I say this. I smile cockily at him. I seem to have a lot of control in this situation and I have to keep myself from laughing. “Um...Maybe you have 3 more sets of 40. I’ll go for 20.” “Haha ok man.” I am awestruck that I finally found something I am better at. We finish our sets and move on to doing ball crunches, then hanging leg raises, then Russian twists. Our abs are burnt out so we head to the locker room, grabbing towels from the front desk on our way over. He walks into the restroom first and I take a leak. Troy takes his shirt back off and begins to flex his abs in the mirror. I finish peeing and walk over to the mirror. I take off my shirt and start flexing my abs too. Troy can't be the only one to put on a show. “Your abs are getting solid, bro,” he says. “Thanks man, you aren’t too bad yourself.” His abs are red and twitching beneath his skin. My hands are twitching to punch those muscles, to feel the solid impact, but I’m too nervous to ask. “Alright, I need to get clean. It’s shower time!” he says. He walks into the locker room and I follow behind him. He goes to a locker and removes his clothes for the day. I set my little bag down on a bench and take off my shorts, leaving on the compression pants. I look up and my body stalls. Troy is standing with his back towards me with his hard, chiseled ass out in the open. His ass is as white as the moon and his huge round cheeks look strong enough to crush bricks between them. I stand there with my compression shorts still on and he turns around. “Aren’t you gonna shower?” he asks. Troy is standing in front of me completely nude with just a hand covering his cock. “Yeah… I’m just… I’ve never seen anyone get naked in here before.” “What?! That’s what locker rooms are for!” he replies, both hand waving in the air, revealing his flaccid 5 inch meat. “The locker room is a safe place to be naked and enjoy it and the best part is that people can admire your body and you can admire theirs without any consequences.” He starts flexing both biceps as if he is being watched by anyone other than me; his cock is swinging between his legs mercilessly. He turns around and does a double bicep back pose, extending one of his legs and revealing his heavy balls between the cracks of his thighs. He turns around and I look back at him awkwardly. I notice that his cock is starting to get a little hard and he knows it too, his hand makes his way down and he starts to stroke it. “Let me help you, bro,” he says.” He walks forward, still semi-hard, gets down on one knee and grabs the band of my compression pants, ripping them down and revealing my 4 inch, flaccid, black cock and ass for anyone to walk in and see. His head is extremely close to my cock and I am paralyzed with fear. He looks down at my dick as if it was a normal part of his day and gets back up, turns around and walks to the shower. “Let’s go, man.” I follow behind him and he stops at the first shower. I go to the second, but barely make it past him before he slaps me on the ass. HARD! The sound resonates in the shower area and I jump a little. “Damn, bro. Those squats are doing you justice.” “Thanks,” I say and chuckle nervously. “Same to you man.” “You haven’t felt these beauties man. Give them a good squeeze.” He turns his back to me, his ass waiting to be worshipped. He didn’t have to tell me twice. I grab both of his ass cheeks and give them a hard squeeze. They feel like rocks in my hands. “Fuck,” I say. He begins to clench his cheeks and I feel so much power in my hands. It is getting harder for me to breath and I start to get hard from his clenching, so I let go. “Alright,” I say. “Shower time.” I walk into my shower and he goes into his. I hear his curtain close and his water turn on through the thin shower wall and I start to relax. I turn on my water and I make it extra hot. That was close. I feel the water rush over me and I start to breathe normally again. I desperately need to cum but I will save it for later. After two minutes, I hear something from Troy’s shower that sounds an awful lot like moaning. “Troy, you ok over there?” Uhh…I’m gonna be honest with you because you’re my bro. It’s been a while since I had sex with my girlfriend.” “So that means you’re— “Spanking the monkey, chocking the chicken, beating my meat, yup!” I can’t believe it. I’m in total shock. “Oh…” “Hey man, there’s nothing better than a good orgasm after a workout. Get hard and try it out!” He didn’t have to tell me twice, I was already hard and hearing him moan through the thin shower wall turned me on. “I always like feeling my pecs and nips when I jerk it. It makes my cock drip so much,” he says over the rush of the water. I begin to stroke my cock and then I hear his moaning. I begin to go faster and he gets louder. I start to moan and he hears. “There you go bro! That’s good shit right there. Fucking bust your nuts all over these walls.” I completely lose it at his words and blow all over the place. I moan in complete ecstasy and I hear him huffing and grunting as his wad shoots from his unseen hard cock. “Ugh..fuck!” he say. “I really needed that,” “Me too” “Well it was nice to do it in your company man.” We both finish showering and walk out of the showers, still naked but not awkward anymore. We walk to our clothes and as we get dressed, I see that his cock is still red and semi-hard from the tugging. “We should shower next to each other more often. It’s way more fun!” Troy says. I’m a little thrown off by what he says but I keep it together. “Haha yeah. Sure man.” “So see ya for leg day tomorrow?” “Yeah, for sure.” We are fully dressed by this point and walk out of the gym. Troy and I leave the gym and he fist-bumps me before we go our separate ways. There are so many questions in my mind. I know Troy is straight. He has never shown any sign of curiosity. He has a girlfriend, but why aren’t they having sex? I’m turned on by Troy, but only because he’s a strong alpha and I admire that. I admire how competitive he is and how he pushes me to be stronger. I know that I’m not feeling love for him, but today was strange. He’s never been this close to me before. He literally stripped me down today. Something is changing in Troy and I think I’ll start pushing him a bit to see what will happen. I know just how to push too… Wrestling.