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Growing up, Jack never knew his father. He has distant memories of being held in a big pair of muscly arms, the scratch of his dad’s bear tickling his chin. But he knew that that was long ago. He assumed he left when he was still young, his mom didn’t tell him much about his father. Life was difficult growing up, his mom loved him very much, but she had to spend most of her days working to help support the two of them. Jack grew into it, becoming more independent and spending his time outside. He was always a very active kid, running around, playing soccer, joining the wrestling team. By 9th grade he had filled out considerably on his 5’9 frame, his toned but bulky 160 lbs suiting him well in his sports. But more importantly, and more to his liking, every morning he awoke to the sight of his 7” hard-on, the thick tool too big for his hand. His daily whacking off had started off very natural, releasing the urge into a tissue every morning. But now, he started feeling more turned on than ever. Sitting in class, his dick started getting painfully hard. Keeping his legs tucked under his desk, he hoped no one noticed the lengthy bulge in his pants. In November, his mother had to take up a second job at the hospital in an effort to start saving up for Jack’s college fund. Jack filled the time by going to the gym every evening. Standing in the kitchen, his growing pecs now pressing out his xl tank top, his sensitive cock rubbing against the fabric of his shorts. Kissing his mom goodnight as he mixed up a protein shake and she left for work. Jogging to the gym, Jack could feel his dick swinging with each step. His balls felt extra swollen this morning and he didn’t have time to whack off. Ignoring the feeling, he jogged faster. Barely breaking a sweat, he arrived at the gym. Swiping his card, Jack headed to the weights. Starting with some free weights, Jack did arm curls, focused on watching his form in the mirror. He admired himself for a moment, while he never thought much of it when he was younger, he was blessed with naturally good looks. His chiseled jaw and cheekbones really added definition to his face. And recently, he noticed a bit of stubble on his chin. He hopped it was golden brown as his locks, he normally kept it trim, but lately had let his hair grow out more. Breaking away from his own gaze, he went over to the bench press. With a good pump on his arms, he loaded a couple of plates and started pushing out reps. He could feel his pecs fill with blood, their size increasing with the pump. Getting up after a few reps, he admired how much he filled out his tank top, his bulging chest looked like it was gonna burst through any day now! Just staring at his pumped upper body made him horny. Trying to ignore his semi, he went over to the leg press. He clanked out rep after rep, pushing his thighs against the strain. The movement of his legs kept rubbing against his dick. His blood pressure rising, he felt his erection hit full strain, poking through the fabric of his basketball shorts. He kept pumping his thighs, the muscles engorging themselves bigger, filling with blood. The workout only added fuel to the flame of his erection. His pumped quads now filled out his shorts, his big hard-on pushed out more. Rubbing it through the fabric, Jack strolled over to the squat rack. Loading it up with plates, he could feel his pulse through his dick quicken. Loading the bar on his broad shoulders, he performed squat after squat. The up and down motion forcing his dick against the fabric. His pumped legs and swelling ass was forcing his shorts to ride up. He regretted going cameo that day, feeling his swollen cockhead poke out. He took a deep breath and focused on his pump. After another 12 minutes of squats, he reloaded the bar on the rack, rubbing his wood through his skin-tight shorts. His balls felt even more swollen. Walking into the showers, he peeled off his sweaty tank top, kicking off his sneakers and stepping out of his shorts. Stepping into the shower, he felt the hot water run down his sweaty back. Lathering himself up, he admired the growing grooves and crevices of his abs. Feeling his chest, his big pecs sore from their workout. Scratching his hairy armpit, he felt his swollen biceps, he must be closing in on 19 inches. Down below, his sore quads still had a bit of pump. Finally soaping up his proudest organ, his dick bobbing up and down, red swollen and pulsing. Grabbing his shaft, his calloused hands rubbing the sensitive skin. Going up and down, he admired the length. Reaching the thick base, he thought it felt bigger, maybe it was still swollen. Still, the thought dug into the back of his head. Washing his nuts, they felt plump in his sack, the big egg-sized orbs feeling extra tight. Slowly going from base to tip, Jack used both hands to massage his throbbing shaft. Quickening his pace, his heart fluttered. He felt the tightness in his balls increase until he felt his thick load explode out. Shot after shot hit the floor, his cum going down the drain. Drying off, he admired his chiseled body in the mirror, his limp dick twitched again at the sight. Putting on his street clothes, he felt the soft fabric cling to his body, the shirt showing his definition, his pec overhang obvious. Down below, his sweatpants looked more than full of his bulge, his 4-inch softie plastered out, the shape of his cockhead noticeable. Fuck it, he thought, it’s grey sweatpants season anyway. Walking home, he enjoyed the feeling of the cooling air against his warm skin. His sore legs quickened their pace, eager to get home before midnight. Waking up the next day, Jack was once again greeted by his throbbing cock, only this time, when he grabbed his shaft, it was noticeably thicker. Jumping out of bed, he grabbed his tape measure. Before, his dick was a nice 7x5.5 inches. Now, it was 7.5x6 inches. His heart raced. Looking down at his swollen dick, he admired its now noticeable size, grabbing it and stroking it as he walked to the bathroom. His nightly workouts continued, his ferocity only increasing. It wasn’t long until he tore through his workout clothes. Only a month later, it was near closing time at the gym. Jack was in the zone at the bench press, his swelling pecs pumping larger and larger until “rip”. His massive chest tore through, revealing his swollen nipples. Down below, his eager dick jumped to attention. Going to the leg press, Jack focused all his increased energy into pumping the increased weight load. His already skin-tight shorts soon bunched up around his growing quads, his throbbing dick pressed out in the middle. On the final press, Jack flexed his quads with all his might, shredding through the fabric. Luckily, no one else was there to see his big dick flop out. Grabbing his big 8 inches of steel, Jack walked to the showers, throwing his torn clothes in the trash. Weighing himself after his shower, he was delighted by his proven increase in size. Now 183 lbs of bulky muscle, he put on his skin-tight street clothes. The xls noticeably struggling to hold his frame. His bulging semi looked even bigger, the fabric pulled tight against his shaft. That night, he measured himself against the door frame, now 5’10.5” tall. His growing frame was not ignored by his classmates, many of the girls asking him to flex for them. Even a couple of the Juniors were impressed by his size. Talking him up about supplements and protein. They sold him on this one supplier that is said to be the best for building muscle. During their limited time together, Jack’s mom took notice of her son’s growing size. Handing him a couple of twenties to buy some bigger clothes. Expecting warmer weather, Jack bought himself a couple of sleeveless tees and cotton shorts, all 2xls. He also bought some boxer briefs to help contain his sensitive package. By May of Freshman year, Jack was the stud of his class. Standing at 6’0” and 210 lbs, he was the strongest kid in his grade. His 2xls now hung tightly around his frame, his cotton shorts leaving little to the imagination on his growing package. Having a little trouble looking past his growing pecs, Jack could see his bulging dick. It had grown another inch. Now 6 inches soft, 9 inches by 7 ½ inches hard. His swelling nuts had kept pace, it felt like he had two lemons down there. Scratching his chiseled jawline, feeling the thickening bristles coming in. He had started shaving a couple of months ago, but was now tempted to see what facial hair he could muster. It was strongest around his jawline and upper lip, his cheeks still a forest of peach fuzz. He had also started mixing in the supplement into his nightly protein shakes, a brand called ‘BEAST’. Jogging down to the gym, the warm spring air enveloping him, he felt his junk bouncing up and down. The weight of his junk only added to its movement when he ran. He was almost at the gym when he ran into one of his classmates, Ashley. Ashley had really blossomed into a looker since middle school. Her breasts filling out strongly, she looked like she could have double d’s or bigger someday. “Oh hey, Jack!” Ashley looked like she was out for a run. Her eyes glued to his bulging package. “Hey, Ashley.” Jack’s deepening baritone still sounded strange on him. “Wow Jack, you’re looking big as always!” She said with some strain on the ‘big’. “Yeah, well, I’ve always wanted to be huge, and clearly I was meant for it!” Jack did a quick pose, his 21-inch guns popping up. He flashed her a quick grin, his gaze enamored with her perky breasts. He could feel his dick stirring in his shorts. “Yep. Looks like it” Ashley gulped down, she swore she could see his crotch twitch. How hung was this guy? She thought to herself. “Hey, you wanna go back to my place?” Jack asked, feeling his dick start to swell. “Nobody’s home, we could hang out for a bit.” “Sure, nothing would make me happier,” she said with a smile. By the time they arrived, Jack and Ashley already had their hands groping each other. Jack took off her bra, revealing her big boobs while she slid off his shorts, his leaking dick swinging up. Ashley’s heart fluttered, she stared at the pulsing cock. “Fuck me” she whispered to herself. “As you wish,” Jack said with delight. Taking off her shorts, he went down on her leaking pussy, her hole leaking juices. Attacking it with his tongue, Jack loved the taste, drinking it. Inserting his big tongue, he felt her legs spasm around him. She screamed in pleasure. A gush of juice poured out. Grinning to himself, Jack went further in with his tongue, his fleshy lips kissing the outside, his tongue surrounded by warmth. Amidst her screams, “FUCK ME JACK! FUCK ME NOW!” “As you wish” Positioning his hips against her, he rubbed the outside of his pussy with his engorged cockhead. His apple-sized tip gushing precum, mixing with her juices. She screamed as he inserted it. Working his way in, he felt her spasming again. His cockhead still gushing pre. He felt his bull nuts swell. “FUCK ME! FUCK ME WITH YOUR HORSECOCK!” Sliding it further in, he felt his shaft surrounded by her moist pussy. Finally reaching the thick base, he slid out a couple of inches, then slammed back in. Taking all 9 inches of his horsecock. His swollen bull nuts slapping her, each the size of a tennis ball now. His thick bush scratching her legs, he went in and out, faster now. A mixture of pre and juice pouring out. “FUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCK” “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKK” They both came, load after load of his thick cum pouring out of his throbbing slit, his swollen bull nuts tightening again and again. Cumming for a solid 90 seconds, he finally pulled out. They were both covered in a mixture of pre, juice, and thick hot cum. That Summer, Jack, and Ashley met again and again. Her pussy constantly thirsty for his horsecock. Working out constantly, Ashley would sometimes come and watch Jack pump himself larger. Soon, his 2xls became too tight. In the middle of his bench press, his shirt and shorts tore simultaneously. His bulging pecs bursting out, followed by his rock-hard 10 inches of horsecock tearing through the fabric. His massive quads and ass helped facilitate it. Ashley noticeably turned on like never before. Undressing in front of him, her gushing pussy leaking onto the floor. His similarly leaking horsecock gushing pre. He always insisted on giving her tongue before, his swollen tongue exploring the warm cavern. When they first met, it was tight around his tongue, he could now feel how he had stretched her out with his massive dick. Tickling her with his bristles, he could feel her legs spasm. Yep, he still got it. Working his swelling horsecock into her again, he could feel her clamp down on him. He retaliated by slamming it further and further, his low-hanging bull nuts whacking her like two wrecking balls. The massive orbs were now the size of apples, swelling bigger with each thrust. Wanting to hold off for as long as he could, he maximized his thrusts, working his huge tip side to side. Her cries of ecstasy rewarded him with a new flush of juices. Shoving his face between her breasts, her swollen nipples softer than clouds. Feeling his nuts tighten, he tried in vain to stop it, but he felt his thick cum surge out, gushing like a fire hydrant. Cupping his hand around his growing nuts, he felt them surge out load after load. By October, he had Ashley measure him. 6’2”, 260 lbs, 24-inch biceps, a 65-inch chest, 36-inch quads, 20-inch calves, and finally, 7 inches soft, 10.5” x 9 inches hard. He guesstimated his nuts as being roughly the size of baseballs, the massive orbs constantly full and demanding release. He grew out his beard, now much thicker and covering his cheeks in dark brown bristles. Similarly, his forearms and legs were now covered in silky brown hair. His growing frame now needing 3xls, his massive basket filling out his extra-wide pouch. His massive pole stretched out the fabric, his nuts practically falling out. Joining the football team in addition to his increased workouts, Jack sought to use his strength against someone else. Filling out his uniform, he practiced constantly, often staying until dark to work on plays. He would then run to the gym, where he would work out for hours. His large size and natural skill made him an instant star on the team. His teammates congratulated him on his ability to smash through the opposing linebackers. He also got plenty of respect for his massive horsecock, taking to walking around before changing, his huge dick flopping around in front of everybody. As far as he could tell, he was the biggest where it counted. Over the winter, Jack noticed the hair growing across his chest. His thick treasure trail soon connected to it. By January, his massive pecs had a forest of brown hair covering them. His chest was getting so big he could rest his chin on it. His thickening beard scratching his pec fur. Measuring himself again, Ashley couldn’t help but rip into him after reading the numbers. 6’4, 320 lbs, 28-inch arms, a 72-inch chest, 42-inch quads, 24-inch calves, and a new record of 8.5” soft, 12”x11” hard. Taking a moment to admire her double-d’s, Jack went to work on her pussy. His tongue had grown considerably from the repeated exercise, his puffy lips sucking her juices down. His thick beard tickling her as his tongue circled her clit. Her legs spasming uncontrollably, he grabbed his massive horsecock in his paw and guided it into her gushing hole. His huge orange-sized tip entered, his slit spewing precum. The puffy glans pressed into her, his wine-bottle thick shaft following, Thickening to his foot-wide base, he slammed into her, his swinging grapefruit-sized bull nuts whacking her again and again. His gushing tip scratching the roof, he pushed further, slamming again and again. Her screams echoing with pleasure. He could barely see over his pecs, but a puddle of pre was fastly forming on the floor. Pre ran down his rippling thighs, his hairy legs slowing it down. Feeling her pussy latch on to his dick, he let go of her, amazed by the sensation of her body weight being supported by his monster cock. His pre pouring out, he grabbed back on, his hairy forearms rippling as he held onto her hips, his sausage-like fingers interlocked. He slid in and out, the immense pressure building at the base of his swollen bull nuts. Screaming in his rumbling bass, he fired blast after blast of his cum into her. After what seemed like five minutes of a constant blast of cum, he let go. Putting the fainted women on his bed. Stepping through what seemed like a gallon of his jizz. Scratching his bristles, he went to take a shower, his still rock-hard shaft bobbing up and down. A month later, Ashley was waving in the audience as Jack stepped onto the field. A massive roar greeting the alpha jock as he ran out. The 6’5 monster was known as the battering ram, also a colloquial nickname for his monstrous dick. The offense braced themselves for the 340 lbs beast to come at them. Many were too distracted by the massive wet spot forming around his packed crotch. The ball was thrown, the players scrambled, Jack, running at full force at the opposing team. Many leaping out of the way. Catching up to the player with the ball, Jack’s massive quads pumping at full force, he leaped and tackled him to the ground. Feeling his monstrous pecs crash into him. RIP Standing up, Jack felt a strange feeling in his dick, it suddenly felt cooler. Reacting to the stares of his teammates, Jack reached down and felt his monster cock rock hard in the breeze. The massive tool had torn through the puny fabric that held it in. Barely seeing his swollen cockhead over his pecs, Jack only reacted by grabbing the shaft and stroking it as he walked off the field. Ashley ran down to meet him. Grabbing him, she took his swollen 13 inches into her gushing pussy. His massive nuts fell out as they swelled larger. He felt his tip crash into her wall, cramming it further in. He felt his shaft heat up as it swelled larger. Roaring in his rumbling bass, Jack pummeled her with his 14 inches of steel, his nuts swelling to the size of coconuts as they filled up in expectation of his awaiting explosion of cum. His tip swelled to the size of a pomegranate, the massive spongy glans flaring out. His pecs felt like they were on fire. Taking his meaty paw, he ripped his strained uniform off, his pecs swollen bigger than watermelons. His rug of chest hair rubbing up against his grown out beard. His 30-inch biceps flexing, lifting up to a double-bi pose. His forest of sweaty armpit hair exposed to the breeze. Ripping off his pads and the remainder of his pants, his cock bobbing up and down under Ashley’s weight. Her swollen breasts hitting his 80-inch chest. His massive quads swelled to their swollen size, bigger than tree trunks. His feet bursting out of his cleats, the massive size 18 dogs swelling wider to accommodate his size. His hairy toes dug into the grass. His tip gushing pre faster and faster, he felt his weighty nuts pull up unsuccessfully, still weighed down by their enormous mass. Soon, explosion after explosion of cum erupted from him. Ashley was thrown off. Jack’s guttural roar echoing as he shot ropes of cum across the field. A couple shots went over the goal post, several hitting the metal with a large ‘whack’. His beer-keg sized neck erupting his thunderous cry of orgasm. His thick shaft swelling with each shot of cum fired, his nuts refusing to empty. He dug his feet in, feeling his cum fire out farther and farther. His shaft swelling longer and longer. Now 18 inches long and thick as a soda bottle, his massive swinging nuts the size of basketballs. His massive muscles pumped themselves larger, his pecs swelling out further and further, pushing his growing shaft out at an angle. His massive shoulders broadening, his biceps fighting his pecs for space. His neck thickened, growing thicker than an ox. His traps push up further and further. His growing thighs pressed themselves out farther apart. His diamond calves swelling to support his increasing height. Passing 8 feet tall and half a ton, he kept cumming. With a roar octaves lower, Jack looked down, still cumming out of his 3 foot long shaft. His massive nuts the size of pumpkins, hanging around his knees. He grabbed Ashley and sat her on his thickening shaft. Her legs pushed apart by the growing tree trunk between them. The titan of a football player growling as he shot load after load into her gushing pussy. He then went to the crowd, shooting his thickening cum into them. Each shot now bigger than a gallon. His furry pecs swelled to push his bearded chin up, his traps rising to his ears. His massive guns were too swollen to bend entirely. His massive thighs caused him to waddle, until his swelling nuts fell to the ground, their size surpassing beach balls and his whale cock extended past 10 feet. His head only able to see the yoga ball-sized tip, the flaring glans widening to shoot his increasing loads. His hairy ass fell to the ground, his dick pressed up by his rapidly swelling nuts. His mountain-like back rising higher and higher. His dick extending forever into the sky, his nuts swelling bigger than the football stadium now, each one competing for space. His swelling muscles push themselves higher and higher. 60 minutes later… His massive nuts now battle the Earth in size, his titanic dick shooting out into space, his planetary-sized muscles swell larger, covered in fur, as his dick continues to swell, bigger, fatter, and longer.

Waking up to another day, Jeff pulled himself out of bed. His weak frame hunched over in the morning light. Getting dressed, his small shirt still somehow baggy on him. Eating half a banana, Jeff walked to school, the weight of his backpack slowing him down. His unkempt hair fluttered in the breeze as he rushed to get through the door, 2 minutes until the bell rang. Turning around to the blasting of a horn, Jeff caught a glimpse of Travis’s truck peel into the parking lot. That dumb jock was always late but nobody dared say anything to him. Not wanting to run into him, Jeff ran to his first class, mathematics. Having been a brainy rather than brawny kid, Jeff always excelled in math, the sciences, and other academic-forward courses. He tried to enjoy the class, but he could sense the looming of last period, gym. The bane of every unathletic student. It wasn’t Jeff’s fault, he tried several times to put on weight, working out, taking supplements. He couldn’t even put on weight in the heavy sense, he was stuck being the human equivalent of a twig. It wouldn’t be that bad if he wasn’t constantly tormented by Travis and his giggling bimbo of a girlfriend, Stacey. Much to his chagrin, the bell rang, and he had to go to gym. He had tried to get out of it several times in the past, sometimes successful, more so unsuccessful. By now, the gym teacher had caught on to Jeff’s goals and warned that the next time he missed a class without being in the hospital, he would fail. He tried to get there early so that he could at least change before Travis got there, but even from the hallway he could hear the jock’s bassy laughter echoing. Entering the locker rooms, Jeff was met by Travis’s broad shoulders and mountain-like back. The massive jock was blessed with all the pleasantries of nature. He was 6’5”, 320-something pounds, quite hairy for his age, and of course, blessed with an oversized manhood. The hulking jock turned around, his bearded face grinning with evil delight. “Bout time you showed up little Jeff. I was gonna tell the coach on you, but having you here is that much better.” He grinned and stood in front of Jeff. Only 5’6”, Jeff was staring directly at the monster’s midsection. Looking up at his massive pecs, or down at his bulging package yielded no comfort. “Hey Jeff, let’s play a game. If I show you my dick and yours is bigger, you live. If not, you die.” Jeff was frozen. Everyone in the school knew of Travis’s legendary package. There was even a rumor that he only passed the 8th grade cause he boned his english teacher. Even back then he was known for being well hung. Looking Jeff in the eye, Travis peeled off his boxer briefs, his massive package flopping out. Two huge bull nuts, each the size of oranges, stretching out his hairy sack. His thick horsecock, probably 8-9 inches soft, the huge fleshy snake twitching. The massive cockhead flaring larger. “You fuckin seeing this bro? What you got down there? A thimble? Me, I got 9 fuckin inches of soft horsecock, fuckin 13 inches when it’s rock hard.” Travis yanked down Jeff’s airy shorts, his 2 inch softie barely visible. “BAHAHA! That’s what you call a cock? This is a real man’s cock. Holding it in his hand, Travis shook his hardening dick around, the thickening shaft becoming too thick for his palm. “Fuckin need two hands to hold this thing! Fuck, just one of my nuts is bigger than your whole package, if you even call that a package!” Travis proceeded to peel off his 4xl shirt, his massive muscular pecs bulging out, a heavy dusting of hair covering each one. He flexed his massive guns, each one 26 inches of power. “This. Is a fuckin’ man. Now fuck off, I gotta go take care of this horsecock.” Jeff sat down on the bench, his shoulders hunched over. He knew gym was starting and that he was going to have to face the wrath of Coach Davis. He just couldn’t get it out of his mind. He was puny, and Travis was a walking beefcake with a porn star dick and too much testosterone. He just wished he could be more of a man. After school, Jeff drove to the store to get a new pair of shorts to replace the ones Travis tore. He was looking through the store when he spotted a section he hadn’t seen before, ‘Alpha Fitness’. Walking through, he was taken aback by the pictures of models. Each one looked to be big as Travis, a few even bigger. All of the clothing sizes were bigger than 3xls, many going all the way up to 8xl. In the undergarment aisle, Jeff was blown away. Each of the models looked like they had stuffed a basketball in their shorts, and the sizes went all the way up to ‘Extra-Enhanced’. Feeling the excitement from seeing such sizes, Jeff wanted to buy a pair of clothes, just to imagine being that size. He got the smallest he could find, a pair of 3xl shorts, a comfy black sweatshirt, and a size ‘roomy’ pair of boxer briefs. Going to the changing rooms, Jeff tried on the clothes, his initial excitement dashed by seeing how much the clothes draped over him. He couldn’t even wear the underwear, the huge pair of boxers sliding off his hips, the pouch not even brushing his junk. At least the sweatshirt felt comfy, the fabric was very soft and he felt a strange warmth spread through him when he put it on. The massive collar nearly went over one of his shoulders, and the bottom hem went down to his knees. But it was still comfy, and he thought he would get it for sleeping in. He started taking it off when he noticed the shirt he was wearing underneath rose to show his abdomen. Normally it hung past his waist by an inch or two, but now it was starting to look like it fit him perfectly. He could feel a wave of excitement wash over him. He put the sweatshirt back on and tried to keep the underwear and shorts from falling off. He sat down for a bit, strolled around the changing room, feeling the tingling warmth spread through him again. Looking in the mirror, he looked taller! While the sweatshirt was still way oversized, it didn’t drape over him as much! Taking it back off, his original shirt was now too small, the hem now above his belly button! Looking down, he now saw the faintest lines of abs! Taking off the shirt, he flexed his arm and to his delight, a small ball of muscle came up! Putting his new clothes back on again, Jeff could feel the warmth return even stronger. He could almost see himself start to swell a little bit bigger, a little bit taller. Looking down, he could tell that he had grown a couple inches, his feet looked farther away, but bigger! Best he could guess, he was now 5’9 and 170 lbs of toned muscle. He kept the clothes on until a new excitement came over him. His dick was now touching the fabric. Dropping his shorts some, he couldn’t believe how much bigger his dick looked. It must’ve been 4 inches soft now! Even his balls looked bigger, approaching the size of ping pong balls! The warmth returned now even stronger, he could feel his arms gaining mass, his pecs felt bigger, he could flex them now! His abs looked more cut, and his thighs were now big enough to hold the clothes from falling! Looking at himself, he was probably close to 5’11 and 210 lbs now. The clothes still seemed too big for him, but he could tell it wouldn’t last much longer. The warming tingle returned, only this time he felt a prickling sensation over his body. Looking at himself in the mirror, the first thing he noticed was that his form looked as big as the other jocks at school! He wasn’t even close to Travis, but he looked like he played football for a while. Taking off his form-fitting sweatshirt, he was met by two big pecs, a cobblestone midsection, and most delicious of all, body hair! He was sprouting a noticeable treasure trail and even had a faint dusting on his chest. His armpit hair was thicker and his pubes were starting to bush out more. Speaking of, his dick looked much bigger now, probably 7 inches soft. It now hung over his tennis ball nuts and looked thick as a can of red bull. Checking himself in the mirror again, he looked like he fit the clothes perfectly, his bulky upper chest pushed out against the fabric perfectly, his thighs and bulging package were starting to stretch out his shorts. He guessed himself to be around 6’2 and 280 lbs. Going back into the aisle, he grabbed a 5xl sleeveless sweatshirt that said ‘Most Muscular’. He picked out a 5xl pair of grey sweatpants with an extra roomy crotch and a logo of a well-endowed guy sporting a massive dickprint. He also saw a pair of work boots with the slogan ‘Real men work outdoors’, the logo had a seriously ripped lumberjack with a thick beard and a forest of chest hair. Lastly, he picked out a pair of ‘enhanced’ boxer briefs. Returning to the changing room, he quickly changed into all the new clothes, taking a moment to admire the naked hunk he’d become. Strolling with his longer gait, Jeff finally felt the warmth return. He watched as his body stretched a little taller, his muscles bulking larger as he grew. He could feel his extra-sensitive cockhead brush past the fabric as it grew longer. His face prickled, soon sporting sideburns, then a shaggy beard, and finally, a thick beard that grew longer as he grew taller. His chest felt similarly itchy as he could feel long brown hairs cover his growing pecs. He saw as his engorged biceps ballooned bigger, soon surpassing 28 inches. By the time he looked in the mirror, he nearly came. Staring back at him, he must’ve been 6’7, 380 lbs. His lantern jaw sported a thick brown beard, his telephone-pole thick neck had stubble going down to his massive chest. His pecs sprouted a carpet of brown hair that pushed out the collar. His sleeveless sweatshirt exposed his broad shoulders, his massive guns flexing at him. His engorged forearms were covered in silky brown hair. Down below, his cobbled abs and thick treasure trail lead to his skin tight sweatpants. His thickening pubes started to pour over the waistband. His tree trunk thighs stretching out the fabric, pulling it taut over his massive dickprint. His shaft was as thick as a wine bottle, easily a foot soft. His massive bull nuts looked to be the size of cantaloupes. The massive weight of his package pulling the waistband down further to reveal the base of his thick cock and huge bush. His work boots felt tight, unlacing them as he allowed his huge dogs to grow out more, he could feel his toes stretch wider. Returning to the aisle, he garnered looks from everyone else. Now tall above the shelves, his massive bearded face and enormous frame demanding attention. Not to mention the huge dickprint he was now sporting. He searched the racks, pulling out a huge 8xl tank top with the words ‘ALPHA’ written across the front. He found a pair of pants that could fit four men. On the bottom shelf, a pair of work boots, size 24 with a logo that just said ‘BEAST’ on them. And lastly, a huge pair of nylon boxer briefs, ‘Extra enhanced alpha junk only’ written on the tag, the massive neon waistband saying ‘ALPHA’ on it, the enormous pouch billowing like a garbage bag. His heartbeat racing, Jeff returned to the changing room. His enlarged size was already tight in the cramped space. He quickly changed into all the new clothes. Expecting the ensuing growth, he returned to the aisles. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a mirror, but he could feel the growth. His massive feet stretched to fit into the super size boots, his massive toes getting crunched by the steel toe. His calves ballooned, bigger than watermelons. His thighs surpassed redwoods as they swelled thicker. He had to alter his stance to accommodate their width. His cobblestone abs enlarged, cutting deeper, his massive obliques bulging out. His enormous pecs ballooned out, swelling past the size of king pillows, stretching his tank top to the limit. The straps cut deep into his engorging traps, they rose up to his ears. His shoulders broadened, probably 7 feet across. His biceps swelled up bigger than watermelons, their pumped size making it so his arms went out at a 45 degree angle. His massive forearms and hands swelled bigger, his grip strengthening. His limbs were covered in thick hair, the fur spreading and thickening on his midsection. His ballooned chest sprouted a shag carpet of brown fur, his sensitive nipples poking into the fabric. Down below, his already massive package swelled bigger and bigger. His alpha junk was ballooning longer and thicker. His bull nuts swelled to the size of pumpkins, their huge weight stretching out his sack, their contents sloshing audibly. He had to step back to accommodate their growing size. They swelled bigger, each the size of a beach ball, their massive size soon too much for his sweatpants. The fabric tore off, leaving his accommodating pouch. His enormous horsecock swelled bigger and bigger. Too big to be considered a whale cock. The enormous shaft was now 5 feet soft, his massive cockhead big as a pumpkin, constantly leaking a stream of pre. Unleashing his enormous cock, Jeff stroked it, the massive shaft between his giant pecs. At the sight of everyone watching him, he exploded load after load of his hot cum all over the store. The next morning, Jeff walked to school, still wearing his tank top and pouch. Passersby, cars, even a bus seemed to stop and stare at him. He arrived at school and waited in the parking lot. His former classmates were staring at him from the windows. Right on time for his usual tardiness, Travis pulled in. Stopping his truck with one of his massive feet, Jeff pulled Travis out and onto the ground. The originally massive man paled in comparison to the now 8 foot tall alpha beast, currently weighing in at over 750 lbs of beef. “What’s the matter Travis?” Jeff chuckled in his thunderous base. “You wanna play a game?” Without waiting for an answer, Jeff tore off Travis’s sweatpants, his thick cock flopping out. “Aw, that’s cute Travis. But do you want to see what a real man looks like?” Jeff proceeded to tear off his pouch, releasing his swollen nuts and whale cock. “Haven’t really measured it, but I’m willing to bet it’s bigger than yours.” Travis was frozen on the ground. Running over to Jeff, Travis’s girlfriend Stacey tried to encircle her hands around Jeff’s muscles, feeling his biceps. Finally she tried, in vain, to stroke his massive cock. On cue, it stiffened up to its massive length of 8 feet, as long as he was tall. An involuntary squeal came from Stacey as she went to service his awaiting cock. Jeff looked down on Travis, a wicked grin spreading across his face at the horror in his eyes. Brought back by the growing climax at the base of his cock, Jeff shot gallon after gallon of cum into the air, his alpha seed raining down around them.

They weren’t huge by any means, but for freshman, Matt and Derek were a cut above the rest. It all started in 9th grade when Derek came up to Matt, “Hey man, I got Coach Keith to let me into the weight room after school today. Ya wanna come and get pumped with me?” “I don’t know Derek, I’ve never lifted any serious weights, let alone equipment.” “Dude! That’s why we gotta learn. Gotta start getting swole!” Derek did a double-bi pose, small mounds pushing up. After school that day, Matt walked into the weight room, wearing his gym clothes, his short sleeve and basketball shorts snug on his growing body. His above average tool bulging out some. “Hey Matt! About time you showed up.” Derek already worked up a sweat at the pull downs, his exposed biceps pumped. “Alright. Up against the wall. We’re gonna start measuring so we can see how big we get.” Matt: 5’9”, 163 lbs Derek: 5’10”, 172 lbs That afternoon, Matt and Derek worked every station, their sore muscles sweating profusely by the time they were done. Matt groaned but Derek was practically glowing with pride. “Dude, if we keep this up, we’re gonna get huge!” “Dude, I don’t know how I'm gonna be able to keep doing this.” “Matt, you’ve already begun. Too late to stop now.” And so it continued, Matt and Derek working out 4 nights a week after school. Slowly, but surely, the workouts were getting easier and easier. Soon they had to increase their weights. In March, during a squat rack, Matt’s increasingly tight basketball shorts split right along his beefy ass. The pair of shorts fell to the ground, leaving Matt in his boxers. “BRO! My shorts just fuckin tore!” “Hell yeah man! Talk about getting swole!” Derek’s similarly skin tight shorts soon gave way under his increased excitement. His hardening bulge tore through the material. Derek was always decently hung, but now his thicker thighs really pushed it out, making it seem bigger. The 7.5 inch tool was throbbing in the thin fabric of his boxers. Matt’s 7 inch member joined him. “Dude, we gotta take more measurements!” Matt: 5’10”, 178 lbs Derek: 5’10.5, 181 lbs By the end of the school year, Matt and Derek were talking about how big they were gonna get that Summer. “Dude, I can’t believe how big we are now. Everyone else looks like ants compared to us.” “I know man. My chest is starting to bulge out more, I can’t believe we got fucking pecs now.” “And look at these biceps. Fuckin 19 inches of steel.” “Speaking of steel, bro can you believe how many girls have been checking us out?” “I know man, I just wanna take these 8 inches of steel out and show them right now. Let them see what they’ve been missing.” “I know man, I can’t believe how big I’m getting. I got fucking 9 inches of dick. Rock hard every morning.” “I know dude. I’ve been cumming so much lately. Feeling extra horned up.” Derek’s big 5” inch softie was pressed out in his cutoff sweatpants. His extra large piece of equipment stirred in his shorts. “Fuck bro, I’m getting hard talking about this. Gotta take care of this monster.” Walking into the stall, Derek whipped out his hardening cock, the thick nine incher throbbing in his hand. His big plum sized nuts were swelling. Scratching his thick pubes, Derek stroked his hard member to the thought of how big he is, how big he could get. Already 6 feet tall and 200 lbs, he was already a hung jock. Who knows how big he could get? Returning that fall, Derek and Matt looked like they lived in the gym, and for the most part, they did. Matt: 6’1”, 236 lbs Derek: 6’2”, 251 lbs “Fuck bro. Can’t believe how fuckin swole we are” Matt’s deeper voice rolled out of his thick neck. The telltale signs of whiskers growing on his chin and cheeks. “I know dude. We’re getting fucking huge!” Derek’s deepening baritone matched the jock’s thickening body. His facial scruff is a bit thicker. His thighs clung to his shorts, the material starting to hike up his thickening quads. His beefy chest and lats were stretching out his 2xl tank top. His 22 inch guns blazing alongside his hairy armpits. Down below, his extra-large package pulled the material around it. His soft dick print pressed out. All 7 inches of it. His equally large nuts, like two apples in his hairy sack, pushed out. The hung stud had been fucking around all summer, his thick 10.5 inch horsecock inch delivering pleasure. “Bro meet me in the locker rooms after school, I got something I wanna show you.” Matt spent the rest of the day, his mind fixed on what Derek wanted to show him. His thoughts only interrupted by feeling the weight of his 6 inch softie roll around. His bulge felt bigger, more pressed out than before. He knew that he would need to get some new underwear soon, not just for his basket but for his growing ass. 2:30pm Derek and Matt were alone in the locker room, the smell of sweat lingering from the football equipment. “Alright bro, this what I wanted to show you.” Derek pulls out a bottle and tosses it to Matt. “What is it?” “It’s a testosterone supplement, I ordered it from some Chinese website. Supposed to help one’s ‘masculinity’.” “I don’t know man, doesn’t this shrink your balls?” Matt unconsciously felt his balls tighten, the big lemon sized orbs stretching out his sack. “Nah man, I’ve been taking it for the past three days, already got more hair coming in” Derek scratched his bristly cheeks, his darkening peach fuzz crackling. “Plus I swear my dick feels bigger, and who doesn’t want to be hung?” “Alright man, I could always stand to get bigger down there.” Matt and Derek popped two capsules into their mouths, Derek smiling in response. The following day, Matt woke up in a sweat. His pulsing dick standing at attention. Getting up, feeling his junk bounce around. Grabbing his shaft, Matt was thrown off at first. His thumb and forefinger were just a bit farther apart. Pulling out his tape measuring tape, Matt couldn’t believe it. His dick was now 9.5 inches long and 7 inches thick. Going into the bathroom, he studied his body in the mirror. His normally smooth abdomen now had a little treasure trail, his arm and leg hair were thicker, and his normally sparse chin now had a light dusting of brown hair. “Fuckin sick” he said to himself. Putting on some clothes, his boxers seemed extra tight, he made a mental note to go shopping that afternoon. Texting Derek, he told him all about his new measurements and asked about getting more pills. Texting him the link, he ordered two bottles. That day at school, Matt felt even more confident than usual. His strides were longer, his shirt seemed to hug him better, his muscles flexing and his package bouncing. His thighs felt thicker and seemed to push his package out more. His cotton shorts left little to the imagination. That afternoon after an extensive 3 hour workout with Derek and another 2 pills, Matt went to the mall to get some new clothes. Getting out of his truck, Matt could feel his shorts starting to tear along the underside, his massive thighs and package getting too big for normal sizes. Walking around the mall, all eyes were on him. He could feel his tensing arms and pecs testing the fabric, his bouncing junk leaving little to the imagination. The fabric now skin tight, his beefy ass pulling the cloth right across his rolling cock and bulging nuts. Entering the store, Matt knew he needed to go to the big and tall portion now. His growing frame was going to need some proportionate clothes. Grabbing a couple 3xl shirts and sweatshirts, some sweatpants and shorts, and getting some 3xl and 4xl boxer briefs. Just in case. Matt loved having a big dick, and he didn’t want it to stop growing. Getting into his truck, he could feel the fabric finally give way, his huge package tearing through, his boxers similarly skintight. His 6.5” softie peeking out the bottom, his thick bush pouring out the waistband. By January, Matt and Derek were easily the two biggest sophomores in the state. Still outmatched by a few juniors and seniors with similar genetic gifts. Matt: 6’2”, 258 lbs Derek: 6’3”, 281 lbs Still teenagers, they were immense. Derek towered higher and wider, his broadening shoulders and grounded stance made him extremely powerful on the football field. His continued usage of the testosterone-enhancing pills plus his natural affinity for growing hair gave him quite an intimidating look. His originally wispy peach fuzz grew in stronger and thicker, now a short cropped but thick black beard. His huge melon-sized pecs now had a light dusting of curly black hair as well. Derek’s normally short wavy black hair had grown out as well. Now down to his shoulders, his glossy black hair and beard gave him a much more mature look. Down below, his equally huge and hairy thighs, now big as tree trunks stretched out his skin tight sweatpants. His globular ass and immense package were both skintight, their curves and shapes easily viewable. His bulging package had swelled to be too big for most undergarments. His 8.5” soft horsecock and orange sized bull nuts needed a custom-sized nylon pair of boxer briefs just to support their immense weight. His thickening bush started to creep out the top of his waistband. Not like he could see it over his enormous pec shelf. Matt also had grown to an equally impressive size. His thickening pecs and thighs making him formidable on the wrestling mat. His sharpened jawline now had a scratchy outline of a beard, his thickening brown hair starting to grow longer. His growing body now stretched out his 3xls, his heavy package bouncing. His soft 7.5” dick and apple sized balls left a more than noticeable dickprint, not like Derek’s though. Sitting down at lunch, the bench audibly squeaking under Derek’s weight. “Bro I can’t believe how pumped I’ve been getting. These babies are getting close to 25 inches now.” Derek hit a double-bi pose, his bulging arms stretching his jersey to the limit. “I know bro, I’m getting fucking shredded!” Matt lifted up his shirt to reveal his cut 8-pack, his defined obliques bulging out. “Fuck that bro! Gotta eat huge to get huge!” Derek proceeded to lift up his strained jersey, revealing a swath of furry belly, his paunch audibly growling. “I don’t know man, I like having these abs, girls dig it.” “Suit yourself man, but I just wanna get huge, and I don’t mind having a gut. Just more mass to add. Besides, I know what the girls really like.” Derek gestured to his packed crotch. “I already got a porn star dick and the puss is endless. Plus my balls are fucking pumping out the cum. I can already feel them fucking swelling. I measured my dick this morning, 12 fucking inches of fuckin cock down there!” Derek started shoveling mashed potato in his mouth, scratching his thick beard. Matt just watched as Derek continued to load up on plateful after plateful. By the end, his gut was bulging out the fabric, a sliver of furry belly hanging out the bottom. “Fuuuuck that felt good.” Derek giving his belly a pat. “Now it’s time to get jacked!” Matt followed Derek to the weight room. The massive man was soon drenched in sweat, his massive body pumped red. It was like Derek was in a trance, his eyes focused on his pumped biceps as he did curls. Matt tried to get back to his workout, doing ab crunches and running on the treadmill. Matt wasn’t sure, but it looked like Derek popped two more pills while chugging his water. By May, Derek and Matt’s physiques were something to marvel at. Matt: 6’3”, 285 lbs Derek: 6’4.5”. 311 lbs They said their goodbyes for the summer. They each had their own jobs lined up and unfortunately their gym schedule didn’t match up. Derek grabbing Matt in a big bear hug, he could feel the immense heat coming off his body, the massive man’s package grinding into his. “I’m gonna miss you man. Can’t wait to see how big you’ve gotten next year.” “Same man. Don’t outgrow me too much.” “Oh, no promises.” Derek gave a little chuckle, but Matt saw in his eyes a determined seriousness. That summer, Derek spent his time mowing lawns and doing landscaping. By the end of June, he had already grown into a little business. His customers couldn’t get enough of watching his massive physique work outside, his huge package bouncing with every step. His sweaty beard dripping onto his jutting pecs. Soon, he started charging extra for him to take his shirt off. Some thirsty women would invite him inside, his horsecock bulging at the sight of them. Matt spent his summer teaching classes and training others at the gym. His chiseled physique earning him his credentials, he focused on teaching members on how to work their core and lose weight fast. But in his free time, he hit the weights with a ferocity. Thinking of Derek’s immensity, of how huge he’d gotten, Matt wanted to match him. By fall, Matt stood at 6’4”, 310 lbs. Working nonstop over the summer to get pumped. His chiseled jaw was now covered in a thick brown beard, his pecs with a similar dusting of hair. His broad shoulders and giant chest stretched out his 4xls. Down below, his massive thighs and ass bulged out of his shorts, the tight nylon stretched over his muscles and package. His horsecock was even bigger. 9 inches soft, 12 inches hard. His big orange sized bull nuts equally swollen. He was waiting outside the gym for Derek to show up. He texted that he was off the clock and wanted to come by for a workout the day before school started. Pulling around in his new diesel truck, probably funded by his landscaping business, Derek stepped out, enormous. His massive size 17 boots clomping on the ground, his huge legs contained by a worn out pair of sweatpants. Small tears in the fabric showed how pumped his hairy quads were. His huge globular ass similarly bulging. His massive package looked dangerously swollen, his massive shaft pressed out. Matt couldn’t tell how big it was, but he could tell it grew, a lot. His originally big gut looked trimmed down, probably from all the outdoor work he’d been doing. His huge midsection was plastered by a skin tight black shirt that was on the verge of tearing. His massive pecs stood out over a foot and a half, his broad shoulders looked to be 5 feet across, his biceps looked to be like soccer balls, and he wasn’t even flexing. Looking up even taller, his big bearded face and lantern jaw greeted him with a smile. “Fuck bro, you fuckin’ shrink?” Derek’s booming bass sounded even deeper. “No man, you just got fuckin huge!” “You can say that again. I blew the fuck up over the summer!” Derek was now 6’6.5” and 367 lbs. “You ready to fucking work out bro?” “You know it!” Derek led the way, his massive frame causing people to step aside. Matt couldn’t take his eyes away from Derek’s body. His massive back looked like a mountain frame. The black shirt hid some of the details, but he could tell there were hills of bulging muscles there. His huge ass looked like he stuffed two globes down there. His immense legs were so huge his feet were forced apart. The massive tree trunks rippled as he walked, threatening to tear his worn out sweats. No one bothered to stop him, he just turned his cap backwards and sauntered over to the bench press. Matt was locked in a trance, like most of the others who Derek had passed. He just stared as Derek loaded plate after plate onto the bar. Sitting down, his massive back dwarfed the bench, his legs spreading out to accommodate his height. With a creak, the bar raised up, down, up, down. Derek pumped out rep after rep, his massive biceps and pecs starting to swell with blood. After what seemed like 20 minutes of pure reps, Derek slammed the bar down. “FUCK YEA!!!” Standing up, he flexed his already pumped upper body. His failing shirt ripping across his chest and arms. Massive slabs of pec meat came into view, each covered in a carpet of black hair. His midsection, still a bit flabby, also covered with a trail of fur-thick black hair that went down to his huge bush. “THAT’S WHAT I’M FUCKIN TALKING ABOUT! PUNY SHIRT COULDN’T TAKE THESE MUSCLES!” Derek started flexing, his massive upper body twitching with stimulation. “Fuck, now arms.” He walked over with a wicked grin and started lifting the 200 lbs dumbbells, cranking out curl after curl. His already pumped biceps began to swell larger, the massive guns soon passing 32 inches. Derek growled in anticipation. He threw down the weights once he was satisfied. Flexing his arm, the huge muscle now battled with his big traps for space. If his bull neck wasn’t so big, he could probably kiss his bicep. “FUCK YEA-AHH!” He strode over to the leg press, his massive cock twitching with anticipation. The seat groaned under his weight, his legs could barely fit together. He started cranking rep after rep. His massive quads swelling rapidly under the weight. His flimsy sweats soon tearing across the massive width of his legs. His massive calves burst out, each the size of a watermelon. He stepped off, needing to adjust his stance for his enlarged thighs. With a quick flex, the rest of the fabric tore off. Leaving him in his massive pair of boxer briefs. His pumped legs were now as hairy as the rest of him, the trail getting thicker towards his packed crotch. The massive pair of shorts were hanging on for dear life, his muscular backside and packed crotch were starting to tear the waistband. With a grin of self-admiration, Derek waddled over to the squat rack, loading it up even heavier than the bench press. With a grunt and clang, he took the bar and squated. Rep after rep, the audience could hear small rips amongst his deepening grunts. Standing back up, he gave a quick flex, and the fabric ripped to pieces. His massive package flopped out, released from the pressured confines of his briefs. His humongous bull nuts were beyond measure, probably the size of coconuts. The massive orbs hung low in his fur-covered sack. Swinging lower, his massive horsecock, probably too big for a horse now. His elephant cock, probably 12 inches soft and thick as a wine bottle. The massive hairy man grinned, his cock twitching as it came to life. The huge shaft lengthening and thickening. His massive paw stroking it, his other scratching his massive nuts. Soon he needed two hands, the thickening shaft soon too thick for one hand. Standing with his massive 17 inch cock throbbing before them, Derek strode to the showers, needing to release his thickening load. Bobbing up and down with his waddling steps, his huge leaking cockhead the size of a grapefruit. Matt followed, he couldn’t believe the masculine display he just saw. His normally-perceived hulk size was more than diminished by Derek’s immensity. What followed was an exhibition of people trying to take Derek’s massive member, some people barely getting passed his enormous head. Others took to stroking it, the huge fleshy pole throbbing and swelling with admiration. The floor was now covered with his sweet sticky pre, people were guzzling it down as fast as they could. With a thunderous roar, Derek stopped holding back and shot load after load of his thick jock cum over the crowd. Each load smacked the opposing walls, the force making echoing splats in the locker room. It went on for 2 minutes, Derek’s giant bull nuts finally drained of what seemed like gallons of cum. With an air of alpha superiority, Derek left, squeezing his massive body into his lifted truck. The normally massive vehicle was starting to get a bit cramped for the huge teenage jock. That fall, it continued with Derek and Matt continuing to work out and get bigger. Derek’s enormous size earned him unbeatable admiration on the football field and in his private sessions. The massive jock needed special order equipment, now needing a 7xl jersey to contain his massive frame, as well as a cup bigger than a shopping bag to hold his swollen package. By December, Matt had grown to 6’7 and 374 lbs, his massive frame would be impressive if not dwarfed by Derek. Waddling in front of Matt, Derek’s enormous frame was now 6’9.5”, 436 lbs. The massive jock had let his body hair and beard grow out, giving him an oversized viking appearance. Sitting down on his reinforced bench, Derek’s massive frame dwarfed the bench on all sides. His broadening shoulders were now 6 feet across, each shoulder bigger than watermelons. His massive pecs pushed out over 2 and a half feet, covered in his luxurious rug of black curls that only seemed to get thicker when he shaved it. His massive jersey barely held on, the jock’s growing gut now adding fuel to the flame. His fur-covered gut was only outmatched by his pecs. The massive man’s hunger seemed endless, his belly rumbling again as he got up. His massive elephant cock banging against the table. At this point, Derek gave up on wearing boxers since they didn’t fit him anymore. He just shoved his 16” softie down his pant leg every morning. His swollen bull nuts were as big as soccer balls now, they’re contents audibly sloshing. Matt focused on keeping his dick from getting hard, not an easy task with a foot of super sensitive soft cock between your knees. Still, he couldn’t take his eyes off of Derek’s huge body as he tried to make his way to the lunchline again. The enormous teenage jock looked like an overgrown warrior amongst children. Sitting down again with a mountain of food, Derek's massive gut now pressed up against the table. “Fuck man, I’m getting fucking huge!” Derek said between mouthfuls of pepperoni pizza. “And speaking of huge, I gotta find someone who can take this monster dick. I got fuckin 22 inches of rock hard cock with gallons of cum and no one can take it. I got the world’s biggest fucking dick and no pussy for it.” Derek started massaging his tip through the fabric, just the thought of a wet puss was getting him hard. “I haven’t had any since last week and even then she could barely get past my cockhead before passing out.” “I don’t know man. Have you even been able to find condoms for that thing?” “Fuck no! I don’t like them, as if they make them my size. Maybe they would fit two years ago when I had a fuckin 8 inch shrimp.” “Fuck man. Have you gotten anyone pregnant?” “Fuck if I know. If they want this ride, they gotta pay the ticket.” “Fuck bro. You could be a dad and you don’t even know?” “Fuck it. Gotta spread my genes anyway. I could fucking overflow a sperm bank.” “Hey that would be a pretty good way to make some cash.” “Fuck man you’re right. I’ll go and see if they can buy it in bulk.” Derek went back to eating slice after slice, massaging his dick at the thought of his seed spreading. Over the next few months, Derek made daily trips to the sperm bank, overloading their storage each day with his gallons of cum. It wasn’t until April that Derek couldn’t take it anymore. By then they had really blown up. Matt was now 6’9” and 442 lbs, Derek was 6’11.5” and 509 lbs. His workout became too intense for his clothing to hold on, working out with his junk out now. His massive bull nuts hung down to his knees, each the size of a pumpkin. His massive whale cock was now 20 inches soft, the massive tip constantly leaking pre. His constant cumming at the sperm bank drove his nuts into overdrive, unabating his horniness. Derek was looking at Matt’s enormous ass cheeks, each bigger than globes. Taken over by his constant horniness, Derek went over to Matt and ripped off his skin tight shorts. The massive man’s junk flopping out. Matt could feel the insane heat coming off of Derek, his massive 16 inch softie springing to action. Turning around and facing Derek’s furry chest, the massive pecs covered in that ever thickening shag carpet of hair. His huge beard mixing with the fur, his massive gut carrying the trail down to the forest that surrounded his prodigious manhood. His massive nuts churning, his hardening cock raising to its monstrous 28 inches. Derek picked up Matt with relative ease, planting him on his awaiting whale cock, the massive cockhead tunneling its way up Matt’s asshole. Matt could feel Derek’s heavy breath on his neck, the massive cockhead reaching his stomach now. He could feel Derek’s fur scratching his back. Reaching his climax, Derek shot load after load of his thick cum into Matt. The massive nuts spewing gallon upon gallon of his jizz. Both Derek and Matt roared like thunder, Matt’s own 21 incher spewing cum everywhere. That summer, Derek and Matt lived together, Derek’s size finally capping out at 7’2 and 653 lbs of beef. His body hair came back with reinforcements, covering him in black curly hair. No longer a viking, he now had a full bear appearance. His massive whale cock stopped growing at 32 inches soft, 46 inches hard, a nearly four full feet of thick cock. His massive nuts are as big as yoga balls, their enormous weight nearly reaching the ground. Matt continued growing past Derek, finally catching up to him. Capping out at 7’3 and 584 lbs, those extra lbs on Derek owing to his massive gut. Matt tried to keep his silky brown hair in check, but after a while, he gave in to his similar appearance. Rich brown and auburn hair sprouting thicker from his midsection and limbs.Surrounding his crotch in a forest of thick fur. Now sporting a massive 30 inch softie, 44 inches hard, a bit shorter but much thicker than Derek’s. Matt’s own massive nuts nearly the size of beach balls, their enormous size pulling down to his ankles. 15 years later… Hundreds of freshman across the country start growing much taller than their classmates, their muscles growing bigger than bodybuilders, their thick black or brown hair spreading across their bodies, their thick horsecocks continuing to grow bigger and thicker, their nuts swelling larger…

Here's a story that I wrote a while ago, but I want to share it with you guys since I recently (re)discovered these forums I hope you'll enjoy it! --- Chapter one: Return to Cloville Henry was walking around the taxi parking area, looking for a cab to bring him to his hometown, Cloville. For some weird reason, however, it seemed very hard for him to find a driver to take him to the small rural town that he once called home. Being so close to his hometown made Henry think. It had been ages since he had last seen his hometown or his family for that matter. All it took was one fight, as Henry hit puberty. He hated his stepdad, and the hatred seemed to be mutual. At one point, all the pent up frustrations just exploded. Henry immediately regretted his little outburst, trying to make up for it. His stepfather was relentless, though, and he forced Henry to move out. He had family living on the other side of the country, so, fortunately, he could stay there. Years had gone by since then, he lost all contact with his family. Even his little brother, who turned 18 two months ago, wasn’t allowed to contact him. Henry had now finished his studies and was working at this big law firm in a big city. His life seemed to be pretty good until his brother called. His mom had passed away, and his father insisted on bringing the family back together. “You wouldn’t believe how much everything changed here” Andy, Henry’s brother said through the phone. “You’ll like dad now. I surely like him. There’s a new farm in town, and the veggies are amazing, we eat them as much as possible! Just come back as fast as possible, mom’s funeral is on Friday. See ya!” Henry put down his phone, surprised by how cheery his brother sounded. Was the bond between Andy and their mom worse than he thought? Even if the relationship between Andy and his mother was worse than Henry expected, why was the information about this farm and the vegetables so crucial in comparison to their mom’s funeral? Henry pulled up his nose, thinking about the vegetables. Since he was young, he always despised most vegetables. The only plant he liked was lettuce, but mostly he tried to stick to fruit to meet his vitamin intake. That night he found a ticket, and the next day he left to Cloville. --- “Hey boy, looking for a cab?” A very muscled man called out to Henry. “Erm, yes, sir! Thank you very much. I need to go to Cloville.”, Henry said, hoping this wouldn’t result in a new denial. “Oh, cool! I live there, and it’s the end of my shift so you can hop along for free!” The driver replied. Henry got into the taxi, together with the muscled man. Now that the driver was sitting in front of him, Henry could take some time to look at the man a bit more closely. The man’s back was wider than the chair he was sitting; his short build made him look a bit stocky. Like a big bodybuilder was squashed together. The muscles on his leg almost touched the steering wheel though. And was that an eggplant stuffed in the guy’s crotch area? As Henry was looking up, he noticed the eyes of the driver looking directly at him in the mirror. Henry quickly averted his eyes, looking at the floor under his feet. “So boy, why are you going to Cloville? Not a lot of tourists make their way up there, and you don’t look like you’ve been there recently.” The driver at least made an effort not to show he noticed Henry’s staring. “Well, I’m originally from the town. I’m just here to attempt my mother’s funeral. She passed away last week, and my stepdad hopes it’s a reason to bring the family back together again. Her funeral is tomorrow.” “Oh yeah, that’s why my son was back too! He arrived yesterday, unfortunately, one day too late for the funeral, so he missed that.” Then the driver’s voice went a bit softer, Henry focussed his ears and listened “Fuck do I hope the boy ate some veggies, I’m horny as hell.” Henry’s eyes widened in shock. Did he hear that correctly? He decided to ignore it since it was almost a whisper he must’ve heard it wrong. His brother’s focus on the veggies was still clinging to him properly. “Oh, a son? Maybe I know him, what’s his name?” Henry sat up a little. Even though it was ages ago, maybe he could meet up with some old acquaintances. “My son? Dylan! I guess he’s as old as you are, so pretty big chance you know him. What’s your name then kid?” Henry seriously started getting agitated by being called “kid” all the time. But he thought about a Dylan he knew. “Are you mister Sandhoff?” Henry asked, “because I used to be friends with a Dylan Sandhoff, we used to be friends when I still lived here. We met each other again when I went to university.” Dylan looked at the driver again. “No, this can’t be mister Sandhoff”, he thought. “Sandhoff used to be a very frail guy. Surely he couldn’t possibly have gotten this big in the past years. The man surely must’ve been a hard gainer.” “Mister Sandhoff in the flesh, kid. Pleased to meet a friend of my son, maybe you guys can go and eat some of the local veggies soon!” Mr Sandhoff said. “These stupid vegetables again”, Henry thought, and then he replied to mister Sandhoff. “Well, mister Sandhoff, both me and Dylan don’t really like a lot of vegetables. But we used to go out and have some beers though so we can do that again. I’ll send him a text when I get home! Didn’t know he was visiting too!” The cab slowly drove into Cloville, and Henry looked around the town. The city hall was still there, mister Sheffield’s store just at the corner of the main street. The small village looked exactly as Henry remembered. The streets were abandoned. “Well, guess even this town is shrinking”, Henry thought. “This must be it, kid.” Henry’s attention was pulled back to reality by the low grumble of his driver. “But sir, I never told you my name. How did you?” Henry looked surprised. “The secret of Cloville, boy. Now say hi to your family, so I can go have a look at my son. See ya soon!” Henry quickly got out of the taxi, got his suitcase from the back and walked up to his driveway. The house looked the same as Henry remembered it, possibly trapping all bad memories inside as well. Henry felt the nerves in his stomach. Then the front door opened, and Henry saw the face of Dave, his stepfather. Henry was only able to recognise the face, however. He remembered Dave to be quite chubby and rather short. The man now stood a good head taller than Henry. The most shocking change, however, was the body. Dave looked like an exact copy of Dylan’s dad. Dave’s pecs formed shelves under his incredible thick neck and broad shoulders. The shirt Dave was earing was so tight that a solid eight-pack could be seen under it. The shirt’s sleeves were filled with arms that must’ve been as big as Henry’s legs. Dave’s legs, filling a pair of khaki pants, looked like tree trunks. His upper legs looked like tree trunks, big enough to harbour a few animals if it would’ve been hollow. The calves looked like sharp, big diamonds. The only difference to mister Sandhoff was Dave’s ass. It was enormous, easily twice the size of the taxi driver. Almost like some sort of compensation, the bulge in front looked a bit smaller. Henry still wondered if there was something stuffed in the front of his stepdad’s pants, but at least this thing was slightly smaller. “Heey Henry, kiddo. Awesome to see you again! I have to bring a few veggies Frank and Davy, our new neighbours down the street. They moved here last week, cute couple! See ya soon, son, go meet up with your brother! Get ready in your room, it’s ready for your arrival. I’ll serve dinner soon.” In Dave’s voice, no signs were to be seen about their past fights or a single hint of mourning about the loss of his wife. And without waiting for a reply, Henry’s stepdad left the front garden. Henry walked inside and up to his room, or at least what he remembered of it. When he opened his door, he saw another muscled guy sitting on his bed. This one was younger, had blond hair and was wearing the same clothes as Dave had been wearing earlier. Before he could have a proper look at the guy, Henry slammed the door shut and called out for his brother. “Andy! There’s a random dude in my room. Andy?! Are you home?” Henry called out through the empty house. Stopping dead in his tracks when a reply came from behind his door. “Yes, little bro, I’m here! Don’t call out for me after you pretty much slammed the door in my face!”. A small chuckle was added to Andy’s reply. Henry opened the door again and was greeted by the same sight for the third time that day: broad shoulders, stuffed pants and big arms. Andy looked at his brother. “God, you look cute, and boy do we need to catch up. Too bad you’re one day too late for mum’s funeral! But just let me update you on what happened in Cloville since you left.” --- Davy looked at himself in the mirror. In the past week, his body had grown so much. His muscles had exploded. His ass and dick were gigantic. First came the growth in his muscles, a few days after his husband became a lawyer for Cloville’s newest farm and Frank’s muscles had come in. After the growth in Frank’s muscles, Davy noticed an increase in his husband’s sex drive. Shortly after that, his own sex drive followed. His horniness was through the roof, and the fucking sessions between the two husbands grew both in intensity and number. Davy looked at his body. His dick was slightly smaller than his husband’s, measuring around 30 centimetres. His arse had grown enormous, and even though he always used to be the top in the relationship, his new arse required filling, a lot of filling. So now his husband topped him every night, morning and multiple other times on the days that he was free from work. A small voice in the back of Davy’s head was saying that something was wrong; the vegetables they ate at night tasted terrific. The sex was great, but something was wrong. His husband started as a lawyer, but now he seemed like he was just a farmhand, helping with harvesting the variable vegetables. And for some reason, Davy thought that exactly those vegetables were to blame for it all. “Frank, we need to leave, I packed our backs. Let’s just get in the car and drive away from this crazy fucked up village. We’re not ourselves anymore, come on we have to leave.”Davy told his mirrored self the practised lines. He looked at his bright blue eyes and his dishevelled blonde hair. The light behind his eyes was getting weaker in a similar way as his husband’s eyes were now empty, brightly coloured, but the lights in his brain were off. Something was messing with their heads, and it had to end now. Taking a deep breath of air, Davy walked down the stairs to his husband, carrying the suitcases with him. “Frank, honey, we need to talk,” Davy said. “Can’t that wait a moment, dear? Dave, from down the street, is just here to bring us a few tomatoes. Do you want to taste a little piece?” Davy’s husband replied. Davy could see Dave’s eyes locking on his suitcase, raising an eyebrow. Of course, he didn’t want to raise suspicion; all the muscled guys in town seemed to work together sometimes. So Davy decided to grab a piece of tomato and taste it. The tomato tasted like any other vegetable from the farm, a familiar taste but mixed with a slightly bitter aftertaste. The more he ate the vegetables, the more he’d grown to like them. This tomato wasn’t an exception; it was delicious! Davy’s libido was rising, and he wanted Dave to leave so he could bounce on his husband’s dick again. He stopped for a second, wasn’t he supposed to resist this wish to fuck? Wasn’t he supposed to tell his husband they should leave as soon as possible? The voice in his head quieted down as soon as he saw his husband’s huge dick pulse in his pants. Dave noticed the change in the atmosphere. “Okay, guy’s I guess I’ll just let you discuss whatever Davy here wanted to discuss, see you guys later! I’ll see myself out.” Davy and Frank kept looking at each other, the tension rising. Then they heard Dave leaving the house, closing their front door. “So, you wanted to talk?” Frank said. “Erm yee, erm, erm.” Davy was lost for words as he saw that his husband slowly took his cock out of his pants. “Naww honey, you seem so confused, some bounce on my dick a little, your mind seems all fogged up.” Davy lost all control, tore off his pants and kneeled in front of the dick. He was just sucking it quickly to lube the cock. Just a few minutes later, his husband’s dick was buried deep inside his ass. The fucking was hard and animalistic like ever. The chair was creaking under the couple’s combined weight. Davy’s moans grew louder and louder, his husband rubbing his hair. Davy turned around towards a mirror Frank decided to hang up to watch their fuck sessions from other angles. He could see the light in his eyes dim down. “Oh honey I’m gonna cum”, Frank groaned shortly before unleashing a big stream of cum. Frank’s balls had grown together with his dick, they were the size of small oranges, hanging over the edge of his chair as Frank pumped his seed in his husband’s ass. As Davy felt his ass being filled, he came too. His balls were slightly bigger than they used to be, but he didn’t meet the amount of cum his husband produced just yet. The voice in the back of his head now told him he should eat his veggies so that he could grow more. “So,” Frank said, “you wanted to tell me something?” Davy looked surprised. What did he want to ask again? “Well, honey, I don’t remember. But let’s cook up those veggies, grow and fuck some more!”

Don't worry. I haven't abandoned "The Wall," but this idea popped into my head as I was stroking this morning. It's short but should get the job done. More if you like. Let me know TANTRA Sunday Morning. I awoke to the gentle sound of rain pattering against my window. It had been a deep and restful sleep, and in the luxurious fog of first awakening hung heavy on my mind and body, allowing me to roll onto my back and yawn and stretch and flex without completely casting off the veil of dreamland fantasy. I arched my back, and my left hand found my morning wood. It was warm and hard… and big. It more than filled my hand and helped to somewhat compensate for the shortcomings that I felt about my still-too-average body. But that was changing. I had found the secret, and I was working toward my goal. I worked out daily. I was growing. I fantasized of muscle as I gently stroked my hardon, luxuriating in the intoxicating grip that radiated from my cock and balls, licking at my ass and surging through my body. I felt the need to flex, and I pumped my biceps into a solid ball of muscle, too small in my opinion but big in my imagination… and growing. It was dense and hard and lean and perfect in proportion; in my mind, it was enormous, peaked and hard and craggy as a boulder. I was putting in the work and slowly making progress. Someday I would have the kind of body that I dreamed of. The kind of body that made me hard when gazed upon my own reflection. The kind of body that could command attention and evoke lust and envy even from the most resistant prey. The kind of body that could provoke ejaculation with just a simple flex. Such was my desire. For now, my world of fantasy would have to satisfy me. I continued flexing and re-flexing, pumping up the muscle fuller. In my mind it mounded bigger, higher. Was I growing? Fuck! The thought of growing turned me on. I continued jacking with my left hand and flexing with my right. The palm of my hand felt rough and calloused on my hardon. So I spat into my hand and then returned it to my dick. My saliva mixed with crusted lube that coated my erection from last night’s jack off session, creating a silky, slippery substrate for my auto stimulation. God, it felt so good. My left hand knew just what to do to coax me to the edge and back. Each time I nearly crested, my skin flushed hot, my nipples hardened, and my toes began to curl. I surfed the peak but kept myself from cumming, riding crest after crest of delirious pleasure, suspended at the edge for minutes at a time, tempting the brink of total ruin and certain satisfaction before easing off just in time to delay the final outcome. Fuck! I loved the titillation, but I the final goal was cumming. I was building up a massive load. I could feel it in my balls and dick. I could feel it in my prostate. Anticipation. I wouldn’t last much longer. Soon thick jets of semen would rocket up my shaft and shoot into the air. I stroked again. Oh God! It felt so good. I flexed again. Unnghhh! I felt it coming. I was getting bigger. Flex. Stronger. I was so close. Ummph! I whet my hand with spit again and slid it down my pole. Fuuuuuuck! I felt it – the fated rumble. I couldn’t exhale. I arched my back and squeezed my eyes so tightly shut that I saw stars. I stroked my dick again. Awww fuck! One more time should do it. Ungggh! Fuck yeahhh! Oh God! No turning back this time. I stroked again, and the tantric swell expanded. Every sensation I had ever felt exploded all at once. Every nerve responded. Excruciating pain and pleasure beyond my wildest dreams radiated to my limbs and back and then concentrated in my cock and balls. Then I felt my muscles spasm. It was just as painful as before, but I knew this time that pain meant growth; so I knew the pain was worth the pleasure. In fact, I welcomed it. I had cultivated it with all the edging. Must hold out a little longer. I cramped all over. Arrrrrgh! Every muscle cell and fiber contracted to the most extreme. Hold it. Hold it… My grip tightened but was overcome by the increasing size of the hardon in my hand. My cock expanded. Time stopped as unimaginable pleasure overcame my resolve. The floodgates had opened, and I would forever be changed. My body seized in one last tetanic contraction, and then my cock exploded. A torrent of cum surged up my shaft and shot into the air. The climax lasted for what felt like hours as my cock jerked with astonishing power, ejaculating rope after rope of thick, hot, white semen that shot toward the ceiling and then rained down on my body. The warm splatter splashed hot on my torso, and then sank in through my skin. My muscles relaxed and expanded as a luxuriant warmth bathed me, replacing the pain of searing heat and icy cold I had suffered just a moment before. My weight sank in to the mattress, and the comfort of deep satisfaction cradled me in the bliss of nirvana. I felt heavy, and I relaxed completely. I took a breath, and my chest rose. It was plated with muscle that was more pronounced than before. I flexed my biceps, and a baseball of power appeared. I raised my head from the pillow to survey my own landscape, and a respectable six pack emerged from my taught belly. I wiggled my toes, and cords of muscle contracted down my thighs and my calves. It was working.

Just a quick one for you all. I've been writing some shorter pieces and posting them to my Tumblr blog (krispykollection.tumblr.com) thinking that I'd mostly stick to longer pieces here, but I am happy with how this one turned out regardless of its length. Enjoy! Gift of Gab He catches your eye from across the gym while in the middle of a set on the chest press. A good base you think to yourself while estimating his stats in your head. At least 200lbs, you think, perfectly proportioned musculature all covered in dark chocolate skin. You watch the sweat drip down and off his pumped up pecs barely being covered only by his navy blue stringer top. Thoughts of what you would do to that plush man meat rush into your head, cementing your decision. You walk over and strike up a conversation just as he finishes his last set. He immediately replies as if talking to an old friend, even though in reality you have just met. You can get anyone talking though, people often remarking on your gift of gab. That, however, is not the only gift you possess. His name is Caleb, you learn while exchanging details and compliments about his routine. He rattles off his stats and the highlights of his fitness career. “202lbs this morning,” he says, ‘Damn, I’m good,’ you think to yourself due to the accuracy of your guess, “which is perfect for Classic Physique.” The end of his sentence causing you to sigh internally. The conversation continues, but you’re momentarily lost in your thoughts. See it’s just something you can’t understand. Why so many guys like Caleb here, genetically superior muscle building machines, decide to hold themselves back from their full potential. Their muscles, so obviously screaming out for more, to be more, to be so much. They shouldn’t be limiting themselves to anything but the nastiest, biggest, most obscene realms of bodybuilding. Far past what would be considered normal, to surpass humanity. 'What would he look like with another 100lbs?’ you think to yourself as your bright blue eyes start illuminating. Caleb stares deeply into them, transfixed, the conversation stopping in its tracks. Your desires begin to take shape on his body. His already pumped pecs begin inflating with more dense muscle. Wildly they expand out and up. A heaving chest is only the beginning as his delts surge and round out, his torso taking on impressive width. Between them, traps rise up, nearly grazing the bottoms of his ears. All together they create dense craters atop his ample cleavage. To the sides, his arms burst with size, surpassing the size of his own head. They’re pressed out by their girth and his rapidly expanding lats. Caleb’s already bubbly abdominals increase their cuts, a new bottom row popping into existence forming a blocky, solid, 8-pack flanked by juicy obliques. His stringer previously having hung loosely is now shrink-wrapped to his midsection. His similarly loose-fitting gym shorts were in a similar predicament. His perkier glutes fill up their space, the synthetic material being stretched tightly between his cheeks. Though Caleb was already blessed with a respectable 8" member you threw a few more inches on seeing no reason not to upgrade everything. Don’t want an empty poser up on stage do we? You clearly watch it creep down his leg under the pulled-tight fabric of his shorts, his now barrel-like thighs threatening to rip them open at any moment, your own hole hungers to be dominated by it. The trance fades away, but Caleb is still under your spell. Seeing no reason to question his dramatic weight gain, sitting happily on the bench waiting for direction on what to do next. “So, your place?” you cheekily ask already knowing the answer. “Sure, I’m just around the corner!,” he excitedly jumps up, with a loud rrrriiiiip as his shorts lose their battle. His perky globes and juicy hamstrings on display through their tatters as he leads the way. Strutting his new muscle like he was born with it you’re confident in your decision. 302lbs was perfect for him… a perfect start at least…

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

POLLINATION: The Series! – BOOK ONE, pts 1-8 (AUTHOR’S INTRO: In the tradition of TV Shows based on movies (i.e. M*A*S*H, PLANET OF THE APES, WESTWORLD), we present POLLINATION: The Series! We take this approach to allow the Original Story to remain independent and retain its original impact, structure and voice, while allowing us to play with the concept and characters introduced there. Although the Original Story is referenced within The Series, we consider that more of an “Easter Egg” than a plot necessity. The Series starts a week or so after the Original Story ends, but the “rules” for the two universes are the same. (It has always been the intent of the Author that The Series be more open-ended, as one would expect from a TV Show seeking to last for multiple seasons. If one thinks of “Book One” as “Season One” and the new material in “Book Two” as “Season Two,” this will more accurately convey the spirit the Author attempts. Also, that gives us at least three more seasons before we jump the shark. (Aside: the TV Show “Happy Days” (where the phrase “jump the shark” originated) was based on the movie AMERICAN GRAFFITI.) (Welcome to POLLINATION: The Series! If this is your first time in this weird little corner of the universe, get ready for a crazy ride. It’s not the movie, but it’s a lot of fun!) 1. When he got on the plane, there was an audible gasp from coach class. This guy was gigantic, bigger than them bodybuilders in the magazines, larger than any human most of these rural-West Virginians had ever seen. That he could even squeeze down the narrow aisle way was miraculous – he had to go sideways for the width of his shoulders. When he finally got to his row, the look on his seatmate’s face flickered between envious lust and uncomfortable fear. This massive giant slid down into his seat, barely, barely fitting in the space – his shoulders still crowded his seatmate. He apologized to the man sharing the row, his voice a deep, sexy rumble. “We didn’t think it was gonna be this difficult,” he said. Despite his size, his face looked like it belonged to a teenager, fresh and innocent. “We didn’t realize how large we’ve actually become.” He adjusted his balls as if it were no big deal, and even there he was ridiculously over-developed. The little nebbish he shared a seat with couldn’t believe the size of this monster’s cock, barely hidden beneath a too-thin layer of pants. With a member like that, it was no wonder the boy spoke in first-person plural. The big teen smiled. “Like what you see?” he asked, lightly touching himself. Even the smallest, most insignificant muscle was pumped to exaggeration – his fingers, his forearms. He was just perfect. A fantasy. His seatmate looked shyly away, stuttering. “I… I…” The muscle-giant laughed, as the plane ran the tarmac. “We know,” he said. “Feels good, too.” He kept one hand on his balls the entire time, cupping them, supporting them – almost protecting them. Maybe they were so heavy it was uncomfortable to let them hang, his seatmate reasoned, preparing the fantasy to which he’d masturbate later. And then they were taking off, G-forces pulling even this heavyweight back into his seat. He looked suddenly uncomfortable, like he was trying to “pop” his ears by yawning. Must be the altitude – “Do you need some gum?” his seatmate managed to choke out, reaching into his breast pocket, when the huge muscleteen began screaming. He tore out of his seatbelt, frantically grabbing his balls, one hand on the side of his head, and stood, his painful screams strengthening. The flight attendants ran to him, even with the difficult slope of the floor during takeoff. “Sir? Sir!” They called. “What’s the matter? What’s happening?” Then, as the pilots leveled off at their cruising altitude, this huge bodybuilder’s eyes rolled back in his head, and there was this heavy, low-pitched bursting sound, like a balloon had popped. His screaming suddenly ceased, and the ridiculously over-muscled boy fell to the floor. He was dead. As the other passengers started screaming themselves, and the attendants strove to regain order, the teen’s former seatmate looked over at the body and saw the liquid stains of blood soaking the front of the muscular kid’s pants. It looked like his balls had exploded. 2. Less than ten hours later, Wolf Murdock’s cell-phone chirped in the pocket of his black trench coat, waking the agent. Grunting deep in his throat, he wiped his face as he sat up on the edge of the bed, feeling how badly he needed a shave. “Coming,” he mumbled, as if the phone could hear him. A clumsy, stumbling little physical bit later, he fished the phone out of his coat, draped over his bedroom chair. “Murdock,” he said in a tone betraying his state. “Sounds like you had a hell of a night.” His partner, Tully. She had a way of projecting her opinions, her judgements – her hidden subtext – even over the phone. “Early morning’s never been my best time. What’s up?” “How soon can you get down here?” she asked. “I got one I think you should see.” What a way to start the day – his supposed day off, as a matter of fact – a dead body on an empty, gin-soaked stomach. Murdock walked to the bathroom and turned on the hot water in the shower. “Gimme an hour,” he said, and hung up on Tully. To rebel, he didn’t shave. 3. “Apparently, the victim had some sort of convulsion during the take-off of a small commuter plane. The airline had no idea what was going on – they assumed heart-attack – but I think from the appearance of the corpse that the cause is more like altitudinal pressure.” Murdock and Tully walked across the tile workfloor of the medical wing, the click of her heels echoing in the empty room, a staccato counterpoint to the legato squeak of his sneakers. Somehow, as always, she looked fresh and clean and perfectly manicured – exactly the opposite of him. “What do you mean?” he asked. “His heart burst?” She sighed, and swung open the door to the examination room. “Not his heart,” she said, and motioned him inside. The corpse was huge, lying there – Frankenstein’s monster, the Cardiff Giant, a brainless robot from a Bugs Bunny cartoon – Murdock flashed through all these images in a heartbeat. Naked but for a towel covering its privates, the corpse’s extreme muscular development was obvious. “Big boy,” Murdock said. “So, we’re thinking steroids?” “He doesn’t show any of the classic signs of obvious steroid use,” Tully said, circling the victim on the table, pulling a fresh set of gloves from the instrument table. “No acne on the face or body, his abdomen isn’t distended. If he’d been taking steroids,” she said, snapping the gloves on her hands, “I won’t know until I do the bloodwork.” “So then, why am I here?” Murdock raised one of the corpse’s arms, and bent it like it was flexing its biceps. Murdock flexed his own in comparison. Tully’s dry look made him lay the arm back down. “Are we thinking aliens?” She motioned him to the same side of the table where she stood, then pulled back the towel, exposing the corpse completely. He almost vomited when he saw the condition of the corpse’s genitals – like any man, it made him weak in the knees. Within the hour, he was on a hopper-flight to West Virginia to investigate. 4. Tully had stayed behind to do the autopsy – she’d call him when she had any information. In a way, that was preferable to Murdock – he enjoyed doing leg-work by himself. He could follow his hunches without needing to explain himself. His hunch here was that this guy – Robert Ray, though his friends referred to him as “Robbie Ray” – had gotten himself into some kind of weird drug, maybe something that he’d injected straight into his balls, and it’d killed him. Simple as that. Murdock suspected some kind of steroid – Robbie Ray’s driver’s license listed the guy’s weight at one seventy-five, and the license was issued less than a year ago. Tully said Robbie Ray’s corpse weighed over three-hundred and ten pounds. Somehow, Robbie Ray had gained enough muscle to almost double his body-weight in less than a year. Didn’t take an FBI investigator to figure there was an outside influence involved. At the airport, he rented a car – a sub-compact, of all things – and began the long trek to Robbie Ray’s hometown, dead in the middle of nowhere, far enough from an urban center that Murdock couldn’t imagine how a man like Robbie Ray had gotten ahold of a drug as sophisticated as what Murdock theorized. Maybe it WAS aliens… A one-light crossroads of a town, Murdock checked into the Main Street Motel because the name tickled his quaint-ness. After a shower and a quick shave, he set out to find a diner, and then the Sheriff. Fortunately, the two came together. When Murdock asked the old-gal behind the counter, whose bright red name-tag announced her as “Sharlene,” she jerked her head toward the side booths, while she filled his coffee cup. “He’s right over there, love,” she said. “Hard to miss a man as big as Sheriff Lane.” Sure enough, seated there in the corner booth, making short work of a short-stack and a side of eggs, his uniform a dead giveaway, was the Sheriff, heavily-muscled himself. Though nowhere near the size of Robbie Ray, he was big enough to make one question how natural he might be. He wore his uniform tight, stretching over his voluminous, blocky chest, showing the flatness of his abs, even sitting down, and his arms, barely – barely – a heart’s beat away from bursting through his sleeves of his tan uniform. Murdock took his coffee with him. “Is everyone in this town a bodybuilder?” he asked, standing at the Sheriff’s table. The Sheriff looked up from his plate, finishing his mouthful. “Do I know you?” he asked, after he swallowed. A strikingly handsome middle-aged man, rugged, his thinning blonde-gray hair was cut in a tight flat-top, down to the skin on the sides. Meticulously groomed, Murdock noted, he obviously took great pride in his appearance. Maybe to the point of vanity. Murdock flashed his ID, showing his badge. “Agent Murdock, FBI,” he said. “May I sit down?” “Sure,” the Sheriff said, nodding to the other seat. As Murdock settled himself, the Sheriff asked, “What brings the FBI to Bum-fuck, West Virginia this morning?” “The death of one of your local boys,” Murdock said, sipping his coffee. “Name of Ray. Robbie Ray.” The Sheriff reacted, jerking his head the tiniest bit. The news obviously surprised him. “Robbie Ray?” he asked, his eyes becoming intense in their gaze. “Where’d this happen? When?” “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you,” Murdock said. Sharlene appeared with his order, placing it in front of him and disappearing just as quickly, not even asking if he’d need anything. Both Murdock and the Sheriff were quiet while she was present. After she was back behind the counter, Murdock continued. “Last night, he boarded a flight bound for Atlanta and suffered an apparent heart-attack during takeoff.” The Sheriff was quiet, his big arms resting on the table, a look of concern and confusion mixed with disbelief on his face – Murdock was certain his reaction was genuine. The Sheriff shook his head. “That’s a damn shame,” he said. “He was barely more than a boy, just graduated high school.” “Pretty big boy,” Murdock said, cutting into his sausage. “He weighed over three-hundred pounds.” He took a mouthful. Sheriff Lane looked even more confused. “Robbie RAY?” he asked. “Agent Murdock, you got somethin’ wrong. Robbie Ray weighed a buck-fifty if he was lucky. He was one of the skinniest kids I’d ever seen.” Murdock stopped chewing. “Sheriff, when was the last time you SAW Robbie Ray?” “Three days ago,” the Sheriff said. “The day before him and that construction crew he worked with went up missing. What the hell’s goin’ on here, Mr. Murdock?” Murdock took another quick mouthful before he retrieved his briefcase. “I don’t know, Sheriff,” he said, “but I have some pictures to show you.” As the Sheriff studied the photos of Robbie Ray’s corpse, Murdock finished his eggs. 5. “So, Sheriff, mind if I ask you a personal question?” They walked along the abandoned construction site – no, not just abandoned – deserted. Jobs were left half-finished, building materials left out and untended. There were no personal tools lying around, Murdock noted. Wherever these guys had gone, they’d taken their stuff. No sign of foul play. The Sheriff peeked into different half-built buildings and even allowed Murdock to enter the company trailer, the temporary office where the foreman worked; but aside from the standard furniture, discarded paperwork, and a couple of dead potted plants, there was nothing to find. No clues about what had happened to them at all, no hints about where they’d gone, nothing. Now, they walked along the edge of the forest on the outside perimeter of the site, taking one last sweep. The Sheriff was an even larger man than Murdock had first surmised – maybe because half of him had been hidden by a table when Murdock first approached him at the diner. Over six-feet, Murdock guessed the Sheriff weighed between two-forty and two-fifty, and his large frame looked like it could handle more weight easily. He looked like a professional wrestler, or at least projected that kind of energy. He sure did like wearing his uniform tight – lucky it was polyester, he would’ve burst out of cotton. As it was, it could barely stretch over the man’s heavy muscle. Along with the black boots, sunglasses and cowboy hat, Sheriff Lane looked a little more like a porn-movie character than an officer of the law in West Virginia. “Go ahead,” the Sheriff said, a man of few words. “Ask.” They kept walking – Murdock secretly enjoyed all this open, unspoiled land, even with the blight of this dead construction site here – city-folk always did. “Well, I wouldn’t be much of an investigator if I didn’t ask the obvious question. I’m here looking into the death of a man who seems to have gained almost two-hundred pounds of muscle in a matter of days and the first person I meet when I come to town is the bodybuilder Sheriff. Tell me that’s a coincidence.” The Sheriff cracked the edge of a smile – it was the most emotion Murdock had seen from the man yet so far – he grunted instead of laughing. “It’s a coincidence,” he said in his deep voice. “And a shitty coincidence at that. I’ve been into bodybuilding since I was eighteen – that’s almost thirty years, Mr. Murdock – and some kid comes along and gains more weight in three days than I have in my whole life.” The Sheriff removed his hat and wiped his forehead. “I wouldn’t call that very fair.” Murdock nodded. “What about a gym? Is there a gym in town where Robbie Ray could’ve gotten connected with some kind of steroid?” The Sheriff shook his head and put his hat back on. “No gym,” he said. “Not within fifty miles. The only place to lift weights around here is my garage – as a matter of fact, the construction crew we’re lookin’ for did the renovations for me. They put in the skylight, the extension, laid the new floor – it’s a damn nice job. You should come by and see it.” Murdock laughed. “I’m afraid I don’t have the patience for weight-lifting.” “It’s not patience, Mr. Murdock. It’s discipline.” Murdock conceded. “Then I don’t have the discipline. I’m afraid the only way I’d ever become a bodybuilder is if there WERE some kind of magic steroid that did it instantly, some comic-book transformation that required no effort on my part. What about you?” “What about me?” Sheriff Lane asked, subtly adjusting his balls in his pants – so tight, they seemed painted on. Murdock couldn’t imagine how the Sheriff dressed the way he did – swear to God, it looked like his uniform was shrinking as time went by – and it left nothing to the imagination! Not that the Sheriff had anything to be embarrassed about there, Murdock noticed – his package was no small thing. Some men had all the luck. Murdock’s jealousy surprised him in its force. He formed his question carefully. “I guess what I’m asking is: what would YOU be willing to do to get a body like yours?” he asked. “Or a body like Robbie Ray’s?” The Sheriff stopped walking and faced him, suddenly serious. Murdock couldn’t help but be a little intimidated – the Sheriff looked even bigger when he was angry. “Mr. Murdock,” he said, his voice low, intense, “The only way something’s coming into my body is if it were grown in the earth –organic, natural – and that includes magic steroids.” Maybe he realized he was leaning in a little close, maybe he’d made his point and decided to back off, whatever. The Sheriff stood straight, then added, “Do I make myself clear?” “I don’t mean to insult you,” Murdock said. “I’m just trying to get some answers.” Sheriff Lane nodded slightly, crossing his arms, making sure Murdock saw their impressive size, making sure Murdock knew who was really in charge around here. “Well, you got one,” the Sheriff said. “And you hardly insulted me at all. Let’s get out of here, Mr. Murdock – there’s more valuable places to spend our time.” Reluctantly, Murdock agreed, and he and the muscular Sheriff drove back to town. The last thing the Sheriff said as he dropped Murdock off at the Main Street Motel was, “You should really come on over and catch a workout – at least check out my little gym. The light in the afternoon is incredible.” Then the Sheriff smiled, the first true smile Murdock had seen on the man’s face, his rugged, strong jaw – damn, that man had a heavy jaw – but then, so had Robbie Ray. “You might also find out how wrong you are about working out. See you later, Mr. Murdock. You have my number if you need it.” Murdock waived him off and went to his room, where he found a little surprise waiting. 6. Housekeeping had been in – the bed was turned down, the bathroom was clean, the towels were fresh – and someone had left a gaudy flower arrangement on the table by the window. Murdock laughed – small-town niceties. Nobody must ever visit this place. The flowers smelled kind of nasty, actually, even from a distance – it reminded him of old sex a little, stale and musty. He opened the window behind the arrangement to air the room a bit. Flopping back on the small sofa, he pulled out his cell phone and called Tully. “Hey, it’s me,” he said when she answered. “I’m hoping you’ve learned something.” “Not very much,” she said. “Bloodwork showed absolutely nothing unusual. There was a slight elevation in his testosterone level, but nothing indicative of steroid abuse. The cause of death, though, wasn’t the obvious. Aside from his testicles, his pituitary gland also burst – that was what actually killed him. I’m still suspecting atmospheric pressure, but I’ve never seen anything like this. I wish I had more to tell you.” “What’s the pituitary gland? What’s that do?” “The pituitary gland’s main function is the secretion of growth hormone, and Robbie Ray’s was clearly working overtime, but I don’t have any evidence of outside influence. Well, there is one strange thing…” “Anything, anything,” Murdock said, rolling his eyes. “Any lead on why an eighteen year old kid would gain two-hundred pounds of muscle in three days. Make that make sense to me, Tully.” “Well, I don’t think it’s terribly unusual, given that he worked in outside construction, but there was an awful lot of dust in his lungs. It looks like plant pollen – we’re analyzing it now.” “Pollen…?” Murdock suddenly looked at the flower arrangement sitting on the table by the window. All this talk today of organics, and plants… Empty flower pots in the foreman’s trailer… Murdock’s conspiracy-theory mind-set clicked into gear. “I’ll call you back,” he said to Tully and clicked his phone off, dropping it on the coffee table. Slowly, cautiously, he approached the arrangement, studying it. Potted, not fresh cut – one main plant and a lot of decorative spray accenting. It was one of the ugliest flowers Murdock had ever seen. It looked like a big cock. Flashing on “Invasion of the Body-Snatchers” and “The Outer Limits,” Murdock began theorizing. Because of his video-based paranoia, before he got too close to the plant, he went into the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth, dampening it quickly beneath the cold water. He held the washcloth over his nose and mouth as he went in for a closer look. He’d ever seen anything like it, though its long, tubular blossom reminded him of a Pitcher Plant, except it looked so much like a porn-star’s cock. The bulb that produced the blossom lay half-exposed in the dirt, itself resembling a nut-sac. As he brought his face closer to the flower, he could swear he saw the blossom move, take aim almost. Before he could react, the flower shot a cloudy wad of golden pollen directly at Murdock’s face. It was like it coughed, or burped – it just expelled the dust, hitting Murdock directly in the washcloth. He backed away from the plant quickly, actually frightened. Holding his breath, he pulled the washcloth from his face and folded it in on itself, to save the sample. In the bathroom, before he even tried to breath, he washed his face and hands thoroughly. It was some kind of PLANT that had done the boy – some kind of quasi-botanical invasion – although Murdock suspected there was some kind of human hand behind it – plants didn’t arrange themselves with decorative sprays. Was there some kind of evil, bodybuilder-florist in this town, or was the conspiracy broader than he first thought? He pocketed his cell-phone, leaving the room – leaving the plant and the pollen sample behind – and got directions to the Sheriff’s house from the man at the front desk. Only three blocks, it was easier to walk. And instead of calling Tully, he dialed Sheriff Lane. 7. “Mr. Murdock, I’m surprised to hear from you so soon. What’s up?” “Sorry to bother you, Sheriff,” Murdock said, walking at a brisk pace, panting a little, “but I’m on my way to your house right now. I think I finally understand what’s going on around here.” He crossed off of Main Street and went up the tree-lined Oak Ave. “You do? Really?” asked the Sheriff. “Excellent. We… I look forward to seeing you, then.” “Actually, Sheriff, if you look outside your window, you’ll see me approaching your house right now.” Murdock walked up the shrub-lined path that led to the side door. As meticulously groomed as the Sheriff, so too was his landscaping. Between his lawn and his body, when did the man find time for the law? His cruiser was parked in the driveway, which was how Murdock was certain the house was his, an old three-story Victorian with a wrap-around porch, bi-tone gray with white shutters. The garage sat back catty-corner from the house – “renovated” didn’t even begin to describe it. Shaped like a miniature barn – there may have been a name for this style, but Murdock didn’t know it – the top third, the part under the peak, had been replaced by glass. Several sky-lights ran down each side of the roof. It must get great light. The garage-door had been replaced by a new wall – no windows on the street-side. The only entrance was on the house-side of the garage, and that was covered by a screen door. Murdock rapped twice on the side door of the house as he turned off his phone. The Sheriff’s deep voice came from behind him. “I’m in the garage, Mr. Murdock.” He heard the screen door open as he turned toward the sound. There stood the Sheriff before him, not ten feet away. Or what had been the Sheriff. Murdock was too late. Sheriff Lane was gigantic – unbelievably gigantic. As big as Robbie Ray had been – and then some. Where Robbie Ray had been a lifeless corpse on a slab, Sheriff Lane was a living, breathing, vital being. His muscle was swollen past the point of possibility, exaggerated by his failing attempt to wear his uniform, where even the polyester was giving up the struggle. The buttons on his shirt had each popped, exposing the deep cleavage between the halves of his impossible pecs – his badge balanced on the ledge where the nipple had already lost its grip. His shoulders and back couldn’t be contained much longer – as it was, the seams were unraveling. His pants fared better – but only a bit. He stood at attention, his legs spread wide, showing the thickness of his thighs and his solid, over-blown calves. He still wore his boots and gun-belt comfortably, which meant that only his muscles had grown, not his waist or his feet. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The tightness of the pants also displayed the size of the Sheriff’s package, on par with what Robbie Ray’s had PROBABLY looked like. His thick cock had pushed itself halfway down his left thigh, and was no doubt responsible for the split in his pant’s left seam. And his balls – unlike Robbie Ray’s – were easily the size of oranges, maybe even grapefruit, well-formed and obvious. He wasn’t wearing the cowboy hat, but it looked like he still could. As a matter of fact, his head looked almost too small for his body. But for the widening of his jaw to accommodate his bull-neck, it would’ve. The Sheriff actually looked more handsome, if rugged, working-class muscle-heads were your type. He looked content. “Holy shit,” Murdock said, taking an involuntary step back. The Sheriff smiled. “We’re finally complete,” he said, flexing his arms, tearing the sleeves. “What do you think?” Murdock was speechless – a first. “Oh, my God…” Laughing, the Sheriff said, “You were the one who said you wanted it like a comic book.” He flexed a most-muscular, and the sound of his shirt tearing up the back preceded his triumphant yell. “Well, how’s THAT for ‘The Incredible Hulk?’” He reached across his body – like Lou Ferrigno – and tore the shirt from his torso, throwing it to the ground, exposing muscles that dwarfed anything seen on campy, 70’s tele-drama or even the fanciest, high-tech CGI. All he wore now were his pants – and they were barely hanging on – his boots and his gun-belt. “You sent the plant…” The Sheriff nodded. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring it with you,” he said, adjusting those massive balls. “Most guys get very protective of…” He suddenly paused, and looked at Murdock suspiciously. “You didn’t get pollinated,” he said simply. Murdock shrugged. “In my line of work, you get suspicious of innocent gifts. I’ve seen ‘Invasion of the Body Snatchers,’ thanks.” “This isn’t like that,” the Sheriff said, with a quick flex of his pecs. “They’re plants, yes, but they don’t understand concepts like good and evil. Morality is a human attribute. They simply seek to re-populate an almost extinct species. It’s their only goal, not the subjugation of the human race. Does that make sense to you, Mr. Murdock?” “Oh sure, today it’s repopulation, but tomorrow it’s domination. An army of guys like you would be pretty formidable.” “If they controlled us, which they don’t.” Sheriff Lane began walking toward him, his massive thighs navigating effortlessly around each other – he had the grace of an athlete that matched the size of his muscles, not the bulky burden of a bodybuilder. “We work together, Mr. Murdock,” he said, touching his balls. “It’s a symbiotic relationship.” Murdock ran then – who could say why? Maybe it was years of harboring paranoid, alien-invasion fantasies that finally broke him, who knew? He just… couldn’t TAKE it anymore. So he ran. But Sheriff Lane had been transformed into something specifically designed for superior performance – he was a PROTECTOR – his body was now capable of feats that would’ve seemed impossible before the symbiosis. With only two steps for prep, he literally leapt over his cruiser, somersaulting in mid-air and landing gracefully on his feet, right in front of the panicked Murdock. Smiling at his own accomplishment, he caught the fleeing investigator with one gigantic arm. “Going somewhere, Mr. Murdock?” he asked, walking back to the garage, carrying the struggling Murdock with him. “Stop it!” screamed Murdock – where the hell were the neighbors? “I don’t want it! I don’t want it!!” The Sheriff chuckled. “Yes, you do,” he said. “You said so, yourself. Your words now are just your fear.” “No!” Murdock continued, helpless against the iron-strength of the Sheriff’s physique. He could see the Sheriff’s pistol, inches from his face. “NO!!!” “We need intelligent men, Mr. Murdock,” the Sheriff said, opening the screen door and tossing Murdock into the garage, “not just construction-crew yokels with no ambition beyond their own sexual satisfaction. You’ll understand better in a few minutes.” He shut the main door then, and locked it, standing guard outside the screen. Murdock could see him through the glass. He banged on the door for a couple of seconds, already realizing the futility in it. “Damn it,” he mumbled, then remembered the cell-phone in his pocket –he fished it out. A weak signal, but at least something. He pressed Tully’s number. When her service answered, Murdock muttered a swear and turned around. “Tully, I need you to…” Then he saw it – them. Everywhere – on every bench, every weight-rack, every shelf, every clear inch of the floor – anyplace that might’ve offered a horizontal resting space. Dozens – hundreds of pots: clay, plastic, and metal, coffee cans too, anything that could hold dirt, bowls and tin-foil broilers, everywhere Murdock looked. The plants. Dozens. Hundreds. Sheriff Lane’s converted gym was the perfect greenhouse – the skylights caught the afternoon sun and reflected it warmly throughout the space, a golden yellow incubator for the row after row, pot after pot of cock-shaped flowers. Flowers that now took aim. “Holy shit,” groaned Murdock, dropping the phone, which broke when it hit the ground, snapping plastically. A burst of pollen hit him square in the forehead, golf-ball sized, but with the consistency of loosely-packed dirt. He snapped his head back in reaction and chuckled nervously. “Missed me,” he said to them, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm. Then he was hit in the shoulder, from another angle, then another, in his lower abdomen. And then the barrage started. One after another they pummeled him, like a batting cage gone awry. Murdock might’ve opened his mouth to scream, but sound probably couldn’t get out, the layer of pollen became so thick so quickly. The front half of his body was coated with a good inch of the stuff, making him look like he was struggling with his footing against a yellow-orange blizzard, like frosting on a living snack cake. He finally collapsed, falling over backwards. A couple of last minute volleys hit him in the face, but by then it didn’t matter. He’d stopped holding his breath a while ago. 8. The train pulled into the station with none of the ceremony that would’ve greeted it only a century ago. Everybody flew these days – always in a hurry – and nobody appreciated the Romantic atmosphere provided by a train. He’d forgotten himself – it’d been a long time since he’d traveled for pleasure and not business, this case or that. And flying was out of the question for them now, anyway. Like the others, he’d felt an urge to play Johnny Appleseed, to spread out, to take root. They’d learned their lesson from Robbie Ray, now traveling only by ground or water. Several had just driven off in their trucks, packed up their trailers and their mobile-homes and left for parts unknown, which for a couple of the guys was just outside their own county. They had much more confidence now that they weren’t traveling alone. Sheriff Lane had at least had the foresight to arm them all with cell-phones before they left, so they had some way of keeping track of each other. In person, they could sense when a man harbored a Symbiote – and a Symbiote could sense another from quite a distance away – the outer limit seemed to be about twenty miles. But the Sheriff had little confidence in their success. “You can’t blame the Symbiotes for taking advantage of an opportunity,” he’d said, “but now we have the chance to be a little more particular. The smartest move those guys made was giving a plant to me – to us.” He’d chuckled. “We still have trouble thinking in first-person plural.” He’d stood guard outside his converted garage during Murdock’s entire transformation, enjoying the deep colors of sunset. When the neighbors would walk by, he’d wave congenially. They’d wave back – remembering that the Sheriff was a big man, but not realizing quite HOW big. Many had never seen him without a shirt – he was almost always in uniform – so they had nothing to compare him to. It was possible that he’d ALWAYS been that big. Like most small-town people, they didn’t talk about it until they were behind closed doors. He’d heard Murdock’s struggle, his moans of resistance. Incomprehensible to Sheriff Lane – even more so now – but he’d resisted the impulse to peek through the small window on the door, even when he’d heard the sounds of tearing material – the “Incredible Hulk” fantasy more common than anyone had realized. It would be good to have someone of Murdock’s intelligence with them. He would know better than the Sheriff how to deflect the government, the army, and many of the threats that would greet them at later stages of re-population. Robbie Ray had been a costly mistake this early, bringing attention when they’d least needed it. True enough, it had brought them Murdock, but that was the only silver-lining. At its worst, it had given evidence to a possible adversary. From inside the garage, when Murdock had moaned again, a little more lustful than the last, Sheriff Lane had been able to sense the symbiosis, the acceptance. He’d smiled, but still didn’t look. He’d felt safe about unlocking the door, though. He’d heard Murdock’s orgasm, and hoped Murdock wasn’t wasting the seed, but was distracted suddenly by the beginning of his OWN erection, his sense of discipline failing him slightly. He’d thought those construction-bozos had simply been weak, but if this was how they’d felt when the Symbiotes were in close proximity to each other, it was no wonder that the guys had been having sex constantly. It would be hard to resist. Murdock had stepped out of the garage only a minute or so later. Much improved, though the agent had had a quirky handsomeness before with his lanky, unreliable physique. Not that looks had mattered to Sheriff Lane, or to the Symbiotes themselves – they required their Protectors to be heavily-muscled warriors, not handsome ones – but, as they said in cartoons, “it didn’t HOIT.” Murdock had grown significantly, close in size to the Sheriff himself, maybe twenty pounds lighter – Sheriff Lane still wanted to believe that his years of bodybuilding hadn’t been in vain, and had given him some sort of advantage with the Symbiote. Still lightly dusted in a fine powder, heavier around his mouth and nose, Murdock had been wearing only his boxer shorts when he’d stepped out of the garage, decorated with little spaceships. Only because his fly had been buttoned had they offered any support at all. Like all of the guys, Murdock kept one hand on his package to offer comfort to the Symbiote. He was going to need a different kind of underwear. The Sheriff himself was going to have to start wearing a cup under his uniform if he’d wanted to continue going about his duty – more likely, given his current size, he’d need a cod-piece. For the moment, the two of them stood there facing each other, each in the same pose – one hand offering support to one’s balls – two huge musclemen caught in the act of mutual appreciation. “How do you feel?” the Sheriff had asked. Murdock had smiled. “For the first time in my life, the idea of an alien invasion excites me.” Their coupling had felt even better than their initial symbiosis. Murdock hadn’t considered himself homosexual, but the closer he’d gotten to the Sheriff – or, really, the closer their Symbiotes had gotten to one another – the greater the feelings of pleasure, of growing lust that they’d felt. Attraction and physical pleasure had been alien to the Symbiotes, but they’d noted the effects it’d had on their Protectors. As the Symbiote fed him more testosterone, more adrenaline, more hormonal stimulation, Murdock knew he’d only want other Protectors as partners from there on. No other coupling would ever offer this impact. As he and the Sheriff had pressed their packages together, getting the Symbiotes as close as they possibly could without crushing them, their massive erections rolling against each other’s torsos like logs on a flume, as they had held each other’s hips and gently thrust against each other, the Symbiotes allowed them their orgasms. The flood of their cum had erupted between them like a muscular volcano, like a geyser shooting up between the shelves of their chests, mixing together until it had become one liquid – one single seed. They’d caught it together, cupping it carefully in their hands and then carried it to the backyard garden. After planting it there wordlessly, they’d gone into the house and plotted Murdock’s necessary disappearance, and formulated their first actual plan. Though they both felt the desire, it had been important to the Sheriff to deny the impulse for sex – he’d seemed to define denial as discipline, determined not to succumb to the same fate as “lesser men.” Murdock couldn’t have agreed more, if for slightly different reasons. He’d known that his new-found sexuality was a manipulation of the Symbiote, and he’d wanted to believe that the creature had no influence over him if he hadn’t allowed it. (None of their human failings seemed to affect the Symbiotes at all, who seemed patient enough to wait-out their Protectors’ rationalizations.) Still, Murdock and the Sheriff gave in twice, and Murdock learned a new love of being fucked up the ass by a dominant top. By the next morning, the product of their initial coupling had taken root in the garden. Neither of them had been surprised to discover that something different was growing there – different than what either of them could’ve produced separately. Clearly the same species, but what must have been the next evolutionary step up. What Murdock and the Sheriff had faced in the garden that morning was the obvious drone to their worker bees, royalty to their peasantry, something simply greater than them both. The same sort-of plant, but half-again as tall as the ones in the Sheriff’s garage – a cock of such size and girth that even transformed men such as the Sheriff and Murdock thought it impossible. The bud would easily come up to a normal man’s knee, and be about as thick as his leg. The base of the flower was a dark-bluish purple, which veined up the sides until it reached the soft lilac head – even its bulb had been bigger – a fantasy man’s fantasy cock. It would take the right man to Host this. With great care, in the light of the rising sun, they’d re-potted it in a plastic, traveling pot – a little wider at the base – and made the decision about what to do with it. Using a roll of stiff butcher’s paper that the Sheriff had in his kitchen – though God only knew why – they wrapped it, put a bow on it, and stapled it at the top, making it look like it had just come from the florist’s – a gift for some long-absent mother or girlfriend. It sat on the floor in front of the train-seat next to Murdock now. He was one of only three people in this car – maybe he’d scared the others away. On the other hand, he WAS traveling AWAY from civilization rather than toward it, no doubt more people rode in the other direction. This was the last stop before his destination – a small town in Kansas called “Garden City.” He picked the name because it tickled his quaint-ness – he did that a lot. They needed land, somewhere in the farm-belt, where they could plant and grow and go unnoticed. The name of the town couldn’t matter less to the Symbiote, so Murdock got to assert his own sense of humor. “Cimarron!” the conductor shouted, sticking his head in the door. He looked at Murdock, as he had done so many times on the trip, sort of lusty, but afraid. It was obvious to Murdock that the man had never seen anyone with a build like his – lots of people stared at him, even dressed in baggies as he was. He hated to admit he liked it – vanity was so not him – but he also recognized the need for anonymity at this stage. It was hard to hide with a body like this. “We’ll be stopped for about ten minutes at Cimarron, sir,” the conductor said to him. “If you want to step off the train again. Get some air. Maybe stretch a little…” Murdock smiled – the conductor HAD been watching him, keeping track of him. Maybe he’d even seen what Murdock did. Kept doing. “Thanks,” Murdock said in his low, sexy voice, winking. He stood then so the conductor could get a good look at his incredible mass, then stretched his back, flexing ever-so discreetly. He was starting to like being a flirt. The conductor probably had an erection when he ducked his head out of the doorway – Murdock sure hoped so – at least he was flustered. That was a nice reward, too. Murdock chuckled, surprised at how much he enjoyed his new body – it was like a teenaged, comic-book fantasy. Although maybe the Symbiote was controlling that, too. Oh, it didn’t matter. He stepped off the train into the bright, Kansas sunshine. Though the Symbiote loved the light, Murdock wore heavy sunglasses because it bothered his eyes. He wasn’t used to the midwest. The train station was built close to the Arkansas River, and with his athletic ability, Murdock easily jumped the twenty feet down to the base of the trestle. His feet landed lightly, gracefully, the muscle of his legs supporting his massive upper body. Stepping to an overgrown area, he quickly lowered his pants and pulled out his gigantic cock. The Symbiote allowed him orgasm immediately, and he shot his seed all over the ground, turning around and hitting as much land as he could. He’d done the same thing at every stop along his journey – Dodge City, Kinsley, even Osawatomie – left his seed behind in some out of the way place near each train-yard. Maybe the new flowers would be found, maybe they wouldn’t. If so, well then, all the better. It might also serve as a distraction from what he and Sheriff Lane were really up to. If not, it didn’t matter. They’d have their army soon enough. Two leaps, and a tuck-flip, and Murdock was standing on the platform again. Through the window of the train, he could see the Great Plant was safe, and that was all that mattered. He’d been given the responsibility to find the Host, though he didn’t think his chances of finding one would be very good in Back-water, Kansas – but Sheriff Lane would be under too much scrutiny soon to keep it secure. Tully alone would dog the Sheriff until he went crazy. Fortunately, Murdock had planted several distracting leads to keep her busy. By the time she found him, it would be far too late. “All aboard!” the conductor shouted, and Murdock headed for the train. “Next stop, Garden City! Garden City, all aboard!” That he could even squeeze down the narrow aisle way was miraculous – Murdock actually had to go sideways for the width of his shoulders. When he finally got to his row, this massive giant slid down into his seat, fitting much more comfortably here than he would’ve on a plane. He checked on the well-being of the Great Plant again, and went over his thoughts again about what kind of farmer he needed to find. With his strong hands, he reached down and lovingly supported his balls.

“Hey everybody, this is Glenn!” “And this is Ben!” “We’re the Fortunato Brothers! And you’re watching another episode of ‘Can You Believe They Bought That Shit?’” TITLE -- THEME MUSIC “In this episode, we’re nosing in on the Storage Auction scene!” “Yeah, my brother and I took some of the profits we’ve made from our podcast this season and -- as usual -- WE BOUGHT SOME SHIT!” “What’d we get this time, Ben?” “That’s a good question, Glenn! The truth is -- I don’t know! Like everybody in the Storage Auction biz, we bought blind!” (EXTERIOR SHOT: Drone -- camera pans across the abandoned “ETERNAL STORAGE” building. There are faded egyptian pyramids painted on the storefront, symbolizing eternity -- subtly informing the viewer that they’ll own their junk forever. We can see the cracked asphalt of the old parking lot and the dilapidated condition of the building. Clearly, from the view, we’re in the middle of nowhere.) BEN (in VO): The Eternal Storage facility went out of business about a decade ago, but they never emptied it. Scheduled for demolition, “Eternal” decided to auction off the unclaimed lots, which these sorts of companies do regularly -- it’s even easier now, thanks to COVID. We bought our booty online. (INTERIOR SHOT: Hallway. Rows of storage units, resembling garage doors, run the dusty, broken down hallway. Some are open and empty, several are locked shut. The electric hall lights work by luck alone, creating a dim, prison-like atmosphere. The Buy-It Brothers are “Live” again. Glenn steps into frame.) “But you know us,” Glenn says, smiling his jowly, toothy grin at the camera. “We don’t ever buy a little shit when a lot of shit’s available!” Ben pops in frame, interrupting. “So we bought THREE of these things!” “Well, the fact is we bought an entire lot, which includes these three units, right here next to each other!” “Who knows what wonders we’ll find?” “No one till we open it. So, what do you say? Which one you wanna start with?” “Let’s start with Door Number One!” Ben says, pulling out a tagged key. As he unlocks an ancient, massive padlock that secures a chain to keep the metal “garage door” in place, his brother hogs the camera. “The fun of this style of ‘Blind Buying’ has spawned quite a few tv shows. Who knows what will be inside? Will it have value, or is it just old furniture and clothes? Is it King Tut’s tomb or Al Capone’s vault? If my brother can ever get the lock off, we’ll find out!” Smiling, Ben says, “This shit’s old!” “So’s your Momma!” Ben snorts, turning the key with great effort. “She’s your Momma, too,” he says, as the lock snaps open with a lethargic clack. “And you know she watches this show.” Ben pulls the chain out of the grating and the two of them squat down to open the sliding door. They couldn’t be less like each other, physically -- Glenn is built like a Snowman and Ben like a String Bean -- although you can see they’re related by face. And sense of humor. The hallway echoes with the sound of scraping, stubborn metal-on-metal force, as if the doorway didn’t fit correctly into its runners, as if it had been pounded out of shape. They get it up almost two feet before it won’t budge another inch. Ben, his skinny bod already used up, sighs loudly and pants. “Okay, maybe Tut’s tomb was a little easier! Want to try one of the others first?” Glenn is kneeling down, shining his flashlight into the darkness of the storage space. “No,” he says. “I can fit under this -- it doesn’t look like it’s jammed full of stuff -- lemme find the light.” “Go, Indy!” Ben mocks as Glenn slides (barely) under the stuck door. Ben gives a side-eye to the camera and whispers, “Indiana Jones was in better shape than my brother…” He harrumphs sarcastically, indicating his lean frame. “Usually, I’m the one squeezing into tight spaces, but my brother likes being the showman when the camera’s on. What’s going on in there?” he calls. “Hold on -- looking for a light. This is crazy!” “What?” Suddenly, the interior light comes on, flooding the space and leaking through the jammed metal door. “Holy crap! Get in here, Ben -- bring the camera!” (INTERIOR SHOT: Storage Unit One, about the size of a standard one-car garage, unpainted cinder-block walls with an overhead neon light. The space is full of gym equipment, not just stored willy-nilly, but set-up as if to be functional, as if someone worked out here. There’s a cable-crossover on the far end, before the mirrored wall. A squat rack on one side, a series of benches and dumbbells on the other. Dusty and cobwebbed, it hasn’t seen use in a while -- but it once did. Lots of use from its condition.) “Look at this!” Glenn says to the camera, smiling broadly. “This is someone’s gym!” Ben looks around. “Maybe some gym went out of business or something…” “No. This looks like someone used it. I mean, this stuff is set up, not stored.” He pulls a pair of 20-pound dumbbells from the rack and struggles to do some bicep curls. “Look at me,” Glenn laughs. “I’m Ah-nold!” He puts the dumbbells back on the rack with a clang that echoes through the space. His pear-shaped body couldn’t possibly look less like Schwarzenegger. Weird. “This is weird,” says Ben. “I know,” laughs Glenn. “Can You Believe We Bought That Shit?” Even Ben laughs at this. “Another mystery for the Buy-It Brothers!” he says back, smiling. “Hey, look back here! There’s a door to the next room -- we won’t have to try and open the front slider!” “Thank God,” Ben says, pulling the heavy wad of keys, chains, and rings from the pocket of his cargo shorts and dropping them on the flat bench. Behind and to the side of the cable crossover -- almost hidden to the eye -- there’s a standard gray industrial door that leads to the next unit. The knob has a keyhole, but as Glenn grabs it, the door breaks off its hinges and falls to the side, as if someone had forced their way through it and tried to put it back in place so no one would notice. “Fine construction,” Glenn jokes. “No wonder they’ve condemned this building.” “This is all very weird.” Glenn pulls the flashlight from out of his back pocket. “At least I know where the light switches are,” he says, entering the dark room. “Be careful,” Ben calls, shooting a nervous glance at the camera. He sees the light come on in the next room, but when he doesn’t hear anything more from his brother, he steps toward the door. “Glenn…?” His brother’s voice isn’t scared, exactly, but he certainly sounds concerned. “Ben,” he says, “bring the camera.” (INTERIOR SHOT: Interior of Unit Two. Ben is clumsy, so the camera is jerky as the stand is reset. This room is identical to the other in terms of construction (and lack of color), but it has a different function -- this is living quarters. At one end of the storage unit, along the wall is a simple cot with a nightstand, a lamp, and a small dresser -- a dull, circular floor rug breaks up the cement. On the other wall, a cheap recliner aimed at a crude, old-fashioned entertainment center -- a TV, a VCR and several dozen VHS tapes. Along the back end of the unit, the opposite end, a seatless toilet, a sink, and a showerhead -- there’s a centered floor drain beneath it.) Taking it all in, Ben says, “What the fuck?” Same tone from Glenn. “Can you believe we bought this shit?” “Glenn, what’s goin’ on? Do you think… someone LIVED here?” “Or was KEPT here.” There’s an uncomfortable silence, unusual between these two. To distract himself, Glenn goes to the entertainment center and picks up some of the VHS tapes. He snorts. “What?” asks Ben, turning the camera to catch Glenn. Glenn holds up the tapes to the camera. “It’s all gay porn,” he says. “And a few bodybuilding competitions.” Even Ben sighs and jokes, “Can you believe we bought that shit?” He chuckles. “Do you think any of this has any value at all?” Glenn shrugs, indicating the tapes. “They’re vintage,” he says. “And look,” he continues, turning the TV on, “TV still works!” The TV comes to life with gay porn, two muscular men in the depths of fucking. Crude and savage, the Buy-It Brothers both turn away. “Oh, Geez… turn it off, man!” But it won’t turn off -- Glenn hits the power button any number of times, but the TV keeps on keeping on. “It won’t turn off,” he says. “Looks like it’s gay porn to infinity!” Ben side-eyes the camera. “Unplug it,” he says, which Glenn acknowledges and pulls the plug from the wall -- the TV stops, mercifully. They’re spooked enough. Glenn holds up his hands like he’s won a race. “Ta-dah!” he sings. “Anything in the dresser?” he asks, nodding toward the piece. Ben seems afraid to look, but finally opens the top drawer, which he then immediately closes. “What?” Ben swallows dramatically. “Jockstraps and thongs,” he says. He opens the second drawer. “Underwear and posers,” he says, opening the third. “Spandex shorts and muscle shirts.” He grimly nods. “I am ready to cut our losses and not look in Unit Three.” “Oh, we’re so looking in Unit Three,” Glenn says, crossing to where the doorway would be. Instead, there’s literally a hole in the wall, as if someone had torn the cinderblocks away and made a doorway. Scraps of cement pieces and piles of broken cinderblocks still litter the floor. Someone had clearly meant to fix the damage -- there are a couple of loose bags of cement mix amid the rubble -- but clearly nothing had been done, just dust and destruction with a layer of time. “I mean, obviously, someone wanted in there very badly.” “Where the hell is the door?” asks Ben, moving the camera’s tripod to a new location. “What is going on around here?” “Well, it’s pretty full in here,” Glenn says from the doorway. “But I can slide down the wall and get the lights okay.” Again, after a couple of seconds, the lights come on, though this bulb isn’t quite as good, blinking and fizzing as Ben, carrying the camera, enters. (INTERIOR SHOT: Unit Three. A slightly smaller room than the other two -- maybe half the width -- filled with over a dozen wooden pallets loaded with beverage cases, wrapped tightly in heavy industrial plastic. Some are haphazardly stacked on top of others -- each pallet has six layers of product. They are dusty, resembling forgotten furniture after a hasty move or dinosaur carcasses after a meteor shower.) Ben looks into the camera. “The mystery deepens,” he says. Glenn pulls his knife from the Leatherman attached to his belt and cuts into the heavy plastic wrapping on one of the pallets. “Let’s see what they were hoarding,” he says, pulling out a plastic sports drink bottle, gray with red and gold lettering. “CYCLE ONE,” he reads, shrugging. “You ever heard of it?” “No.” Ben pulls out his phone instinctively to search it, but there’s no coverage inside. “Fucking cinderblocks,” he mumbles. Meanwhile, Glenn cracks open the plastic bottle and chugs it on down. “Glenn!” Ben hollers when he looks up. “What are you doing?” “What?” Glenn says, tossing the empty bottle away. “It’s just a sports drink! I didn’t see an expiration on it -- it was good!” He turns to the camera and adds, “Sadly, it hasn’t fermented.” “I can’t believe you just drank that!” Ben protests. “You don’t know anything about it!” “Oh, for the love of God, Ben! Give it up!” Ben shakes it off. “I’m sorry, bro,” he says. “This whole place has got me a little spooked, is all. This is very weird.” Glenn shrugs dramatically. “What? Some guy who used to own a gym loses it all and instead of being homeless and on the streets…” “...he chooses to live in a storage facility?” Ben finishes. “With his collection of porn, thongs, and sports drinks? No, that doesn’t sound weird at all.” Glenn snorts and begins counting the pallets. “Whatever,” he says. “Ready, math guy?” Ben opens his calculator app. “Ready!” he says. Glenn counts. “Each pallet has ten cases per layer and each is six layers high.” “Sixty cases!” Ben announces. “I didn’t even need the calculator for that!” Glenn laughs. “Twenty-four bottles per case means…?” “Fourteen-hundred forty bottles per pallet.” He counts quickly again. “Twenty pallets…?” “Means we own a shit-ton of this stuff.” Glenn smiles toward the camera. “I love math,” he says. “What are we gonna do with twenty-eight thousand, eight-hundred bottles of old sports drink?” “Twenty-eight thousand, seven ninety-nine,” Glenn chuckles, tossing his empty bottle dramatically over his shoulder, where it clunks emptilly around in the cinderblock space. “That’s gonna eat into our profit margins,” Ben says, shaking his head, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “Ben, even if we sell it for a buck a bottle, we still make a shit-ton more than we spent. Plus the gym equipment…” “...and the vintage porn.” Glenn smiles. “And the vintage porn -- we’ll still come out ahead. That it happens to be weird gives us a story to tell, doesn’t it? That’s why we have this camera… and the show…” They both turn to the camera and smile. “Can You Believe We Bought This Shit?” Ben asks dryly. “Okay,” Glenn says, taking charge like he usually does, “we’ll need the Pallet Jack -- we didn’t bring that, did we? -- but we have room in the Hauler to fit all this stuff.” As he talks, he steps back into the middle unit-- the living area -- Ben follows dutifully, taking the camera along. “I doubt we’re gonna want to keep much of this stuff -- I guess the TV works tho, right? And who knows? Maybe there IS a market for vintage porn.” He laughs and walks into the first unit, the one with the gym equipment. “I don’t know how we’re gonna get this stuff outta here -- maybe the guys who buy it can haul it. I don’t know…” Suddenly, he jumps up and grabs the pull-up bar mounted on the top of the cable crossover. Ben is suddenly watching his middle-aged, rugby-thick, out-of-shape brother doing pull-ups -- exercising! “What are you doing?” Ben asks, already laughing. “Pull-ups!” Glenn says breathlessly as he struggles to do a third. He drops heavily onto his feet. “We own a gym now,” he says to his skinny-fat brother. “The Fortunato Brothers Fitness Center! Maybe it’s a sign we should get these sad-ass bods back in shape?” Ben laughs. “You feelin’ okay?” “I feel great!” Glenn says. “Seriously, I feel fucking GREAT! Ever since I had that…” He stops suddenly and looks away, toward the third unit. A devilish smile crosses his face and he exits with purpose back into the other rooms. “Glenn, what are you doing? GLENN!” Ben gives a look toward the camera and is about to go after his brother when Glenn reappears in the broken doorway, holding several bottles of CYCLE ONE. “This shit…” he starts to say. Ben immediately protests, holding his hands up. “Our profit margin!” Glenn tosses a bottle with an easy lob to his brother, but Ben -- never an athlete -- bobbles and drops it. The bottle rolls under the metal gate they’d opened into the hallway beyond. “There goes our profit margin,” Glenn jokes, opening another bottle. As he speaks, he gestures with it. “Why don’t you go grab that bottle? I should’ve known better than to toss it to you.” He slugs down half his new bottle in one gulp, easily. Ben’s tone is serious. “I think you should ease up on that stuff,” he says, making his way toward the metal gate. “You don’t know what’s in it.” “It’s a sports drink.” Glenn waves him off. “It’s just sugar water.” He attempts another set of pull-ups as Ben squats down to go under the door. He’s got a little over two-feet of clearance but he’s reluctant to press his chest to the floor, all that dust and dirt he’d been able to ignore before, when the mystery had captivated him. Now there’s less enthusiasm to follow the rules -- like the game OPERATION, where you shouldn’t touch the sides… Ben’s shoulder whaps the bottom of the metal grate as he rises in the hallway. There is a grinding, loud, metallic shriek and the grate slams solidly onto the cement floor. “Oh, shit,” Ben mumbles. He hears Glenn from inside, slightly muffled. “What happened?” “I must’ve jostled it with my shoulder,” Ben says to the door, speaking a little more loudly than usual, to be heard through the closed door. “That’s why I didn’t make the Limbo Team.” No laugh. Damn. “Okay, let’s heft it back up again!” Ben grabs the handles on his side -- and he can hear Glenn trying to pull the chain on his -- but the door doesn’t budge. “Fuck -- AGAIN!” They try -- even though Ben worries about his back, he throws himself into it -- and fails. The door stays closed. “Fuck,” Ben chants. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” “Well, let’s try one of the other doors,” Glenn suggests from inside. “You have the keys, right?” Ben reaches down to his pockets -- empty? Where…? Oh, shit! He’d taken the keys out of his pocket and put them on the bench -- inside the unit! “Oh, shit!” “What?” “They’re in there!” Ben shouted, slapping the metal door. “They’re in THERE! I took them out of my pocket when I was fumbling with all the camera equipment! They’re on the bench.” He doesn’t hear Glenn’s sighing exhale, but he’s certain that’s what’s happening -- his brother is collecting his wits -- it’s what he always does when he’s angry. “Okay,” Glenn says through the grate. “Is the crowbar in the truck?” “I don’t know,” Ben answers. “I’ll have to check. I don’t think so. I think we took it out when we were emptying from that last job.” “It’s okay,” Glenn says. “We’re gonna need the Pallet Jack anyway. Okay, you head to the Workshop and get the crowbar, the Pallet Jack, any kind of hack saw we might have if we gotta cut those chains…” “Glenn, the Workshop is almost a hundred miles away!” “Well, we don’t have much choice -- unless you’re strong enough to tear through these metal grates with your bare hands, we’re gonna need tools. And the tools are in the Workshop…” “Which is a hundred miles away!” Glenn laughs. “Well, I’m not going anywhere! So you might as well get to it… unless you don’t have the truck keys?” “They’re in the truck.” He can hear Glenn sigh. “You just leave keys everywhere…” Ben doesn’t laugh. “You’re hysterical,” he says. “Look, Glenn, I feel bad enough…” “It’s not a big deal,” his brother says through the metal grate. “It’s just a couple hours. I have plenty to do -- I have games on my phone and shit -- don’t worry. Hey, I can always work out and watch vintage porn, right?” That his brother, trapped because of Ben’s own foolishness, would work so hard to make jokes shows Ben how much Glenn cares. Ben can’t help but smile. “Yeah, I guess,” he says. “I’m sorry, Glenn.” “It’s just gonna be a couple hours -- and we’ll get a good story out of it. Don’t worry, Ben, it’s all good. Now go get the tools -- I’m done talking through a garage door. Frankly, I feel like working out.” “Don’t drink any more of that shit!” “Too late!” For some reason, as much as anything else, that lights a fire in Ben’s pants. He can’t shake his uneasy feeling about that stupid sports drink -- he’s sure he’s heard of it before. On the floor against the far wall sits the bottle he’d come out here for -- without much consideration, he picks it up off the floor and puts it in the side pocket of his cargo shorts (where the keys had been). Ben hurries down the stairs and exits the building -- this time smart enough to block the door with a cinderblock, so it won’t lock by accident behind him. The keys are in the truck -- thank God for small favors! -- but the crowbar is not. There’s not a helpful tool in the bed. (They’d taken the toolbox out to create room for all the loot they were gonna haul from this Buy-It score!) Just one stupid thing after the next -- and here they are now, Glenn locked in a unit with vintage porn! So it would be REALLY stupid if something happened to me now, Ben thinks, driving a little too old-lady like. But it’s better than getting pulled over, or having an accident, or any of the other myriad horror stories he imagines happening as he drives the nearly hundred miles to their Workshop while his brother is trapped. “I just got here!” he texts when he arrives at the Workshop, nearly two hours later -- the text isn’t delivered. He tries to shrug it off, shutting the door of the truck -- the one shrink-wrapped with their Buy-It Brothers logo -- and enters their warehouse (their “Workshop”) -- the one sporting that same logo over cartoon-versions of he and Glenn. (Ben thought they looked a little too much like Laurel and Hardy, but no one knew that reference anymore.) With haste, he gathers the things he’ll need, the crowbar, the hacksaw -- he has to locate the Pallet Jack. He’s wasting so much time on it, he considers leaving it behind. Fortunately, just as he’s thinking that, he trips over it. (It’s mostly hidden beneath a hastily discarded tarp.) It takes some little effort to lift it up into the bed of the truck -- lifting stuff is more his brother’s kind of thing -- but he finally does it, breathing heavily as he rolls the jack deeper into the bed near the cab and straps it in. He’s sweating a little -- and thirsty. Without realizing it, his hand touches the bottle still stashed in his pocket. The CYCLE ONE. He can’t resist. Though he knows his priority is getting back and rescuing his brother, Ben takes a moment to fire up his desktop and do some internet snooping, to satisfy his curiosity (or his paranoia). Cycle One -- there it is -- a sports drink that was all the rage twenty years ago. Internet rumors claim it was the real deal, adding insane amounts of masculine muscle and power, but there were side effects: dangerously increased libido, loss of sexual inhibition, loss of individuality. Crazy internet bullshit -- still, there are dozens of flexing testimonials, young men eager to show off their “transformations.” All of them looking a tiny bit… zealous, perhaps? Another article links Cycle One to a Justice Club Super-Villain, a hyper-muscled bodybuilder by the punny name of King Rex. The pic that accompanies this article shows an impossibly muscled man with a beard transforming a kneeling Superion, the Earth’s most powerful superhero, and turning him into Rex’s worshipful gay slave. The article claims the “secret ingredient” in Cycle One is King Rex’s magical ejaculate. A deeper dive: coincidently, upon the disappearance of this King Rex into the Multiverse, supplies of Cycle One became limited overnight -- and precious. Several would-be cults formed around the protection -- and distribution -- of this suddenly valuable resource. People went to great lengths to horde the stuff -- vaults, fallout shelters, armed-guards at storage units… Ben surfaces from his rabbit hole with the realization of what he and his brother have stumbled upon. In this instance, knowledge hasn’t seemed to give him any power at all -- other than to realize there’s danger, which he’s already suspected. Thanks, knowledge. Hurriedly, Ben gets back to the truck -- leaving the bottle of Cycle One on his desk -- realizing he’s wasted almost twenty minutes online, and heads the ninety-some-odd miles back to the storage units. He wants to floor it and speed the entire way, but he fears getting pulled over, or getting in an accident, or any of the other myriad nightmares that would end with his brother being forever trapped. “Almost there,” he texts at a red light -- the text isn’t delivered. Damn cinder-blocks -- they give little hope. He leaves the main road for the access road, the access road for the side road, the side road for the private drive, until finally, the abandoned ETERNAL STORAGE building comes into view, across the cracked and weed-filled parking lot. Apparently, this is all to be torn down to create an Amazon Warehouse. The Amazons replace the Eternals -- sounds like a bad superhero movie -- Ben can’t help but chuckle, despite the situation. A nerd at heart. He parks next to the door he’d left jammed open with the cinderblock and hurries back inside, grabbing the crowbar out of the truck bed on his way. He bounds up the stairs to the second floor -- as fast as his skinny, awkward body can “bound” anyway -- less like a gazelle and more like a clumsy giraffe with a few extra knees -- and lopes down the hall to their lot. It’s been just a little over five-and-a-half hours, and his brother wasn’t in immediate danger -- (he certainly wasn’t gonna go thirsty) -- still, Ben is worried. From halfway down the hall he can hear it. Right up next to the stuck door it’s impossible to miss: clanging weights, grunts and groans -- his brother is working out! “Glenn?” he calls, slapping the metal door. “Glenn, you OK?” “Ben?” he hears, then the thud of a barbell being dropped. The voice is closer to the door. “You’re back already? I still gotta do deadlifts.” “You’re hysterical,” Ben says, smiling with relief -- his brother isn’t dead. “Are you OK?” He can hear Glenn’s laughter. “WAY better than OK. Bro, this stuff is AMAZING, this CYCLE ONE shit! We’ve struck gold!” “Glenn…” “A buck a bottle? Fuck that. A THOUSAND bucks a bottle! For this…? Hell yeah, they’ll pay it.” “Glenn, I’ve been doing some research on it, the Cycle One, and…” “I don’t care what the Internet says right now, Bro! Let’s just get this fucking door open.” “Um… Okay, I have the crowbar!” “Great! Let’s see if you can get the bottom up a little bit.” Ben jams the crowbar beneath the door -- he’s expecting resistance, but the flat end of the bar simply slides under. Lifting the curled end, Ben slides a piece of broken cinder block beneath to act as a fulcrum. When he attempts to raise the door, the metal dents, lifting a small section up about an inch. When Ben removes the crowbar, he sees his brother stick his fat fingers through the opening from the other side. “I’m almost free!” Glenn says and laughs. Then, he says, “Hey!” like he’s had an idea. “Make another one of those dents about two feet to your left. I got an idea!” Ben shrugs -- “Okay…” -- and slides to his left. Again, the crowbar easily goes under the metal lip. Ben uses the same piece of cinder block and creates another hand-sized dent in the base of the sliding door -- the screech of the metal is almost uncomfortable. Glenn is saying, “Perfect… perfect,” from the other side of the door. “Okay, let’s give it a try!” “What?” “Let’s try to lift it! Grab the handle out there!” “Glenn, we can’t lift this…” “I told you -- I’m fresh! I haven’t done deadlifts, yet.” Bending over rather than squatting, Ben grabs the handle in the center of the roll-up metal door. He’s indulging his brother -- there’s no way they’re moving this door -- so he doesn’t give it his all. So he’s surprised when, on his brother’s count of “Three!” the door actually jerks up a foot or so -- Ben nearly loses his balance. “That’s better,” says Ben’s brother. “I can get a better grip on it now. Hold on a sec…” Ben can hear the sounds of drinking from inside and the clink clunk of an empty plastic bottle as it’s casually tossed away. He burps. “Okay,” he says, again gripping the base of the metal -- Ben can see his sneakers beneath the door. “Let’s do this. Grab on!” Ben grabs the door handle a little more seriously this time, squatting opposite his brother. “One. Two… THREE!” They both throw energy into the movement, but the door doesn’t budge. “No!” Glenn yells. “AGAIN!” A little -- it moves a little -- but nothing that’s gonna rescue anybody anytime soon. “Fuck this… FUCK THIS!” Glenn yells, then Ben can hear him mumble. “Just need a little more. Just a little more…” Again, the sound of drinking, the empty clunk of a thrown bottle. “Fuck this. Let’s get this fucking thing!” They both heave. It moves… slightly! “MORE!” And they both strain. Then, unexpectedly and suddenly enough to surprise Ben, the door doesn’t slide up so much as it gives in to the pressure and folds, shrieking a metallic screech like a tin can collapsing. The force throws Ben off balance and he trips over the crowbar, slamming into the cinderblock wall on the opposite side of the hall. So hard, it knocks the wind from him -- and from the way his head slams back into the brick, he knows he’s about to lose consciousness, too. The image he’s left with: his brother. His brother! Not the teddy-bear, snowman-shaped sibling he’s known for forty years -- not unless his brother is the Hulk and Ben has never figured it out. Standing there in the doorway, arms over his head pushing the door up further, Glenn is massive -- his muscles are impossible! Thick and heavy, but not ripped and “cut” like a bodybuilder in competition. Glenn’s lines are curvaceous, not tight, his flabby tummy has become a “roid-gut”, big, curved lines, round muscle bellies, bloated and swollen -- he wears electric blue posing trunks and a spandex half-shirt that doesn’t reach the bottom of his bulbous pecs, exposing his thick nipples. His biceps are easily as big as his head, maybe bigger while flexed like this -- Glenn’s breathless in his joy, in his win, in his show of power. Look at the size of him! Ben can see his brother is fighting a hard-on in the tiny, shiny posers he barely wears as he flexes his triumph at ripping the door from its track -- he’s so masculine, but what he wears is so… flowery. Feminine. He flexes a most-muscular, popping his traps and his pecs -- just like the Hulk used to on the old TV show when they were kids, fantasizing about being so big. And then -- helplessly -- Ben finally passes out, lost in confusion and darkness. Only certain that he’s too late. ********************************************************************************* Chock! That’s the sound he wakes to, the heavy stone stacking of brick. Chock! Or cinderblocks… Ben opens his eyes tentatively, taking a moment to process where he is. Although he’s leaning against the wall, there are pallets of CYCLE ONE all around him -- he must be in Unit Three! Why…? Chock! What the fuck is that? As he stirs, rising to investigate, he discovers there’s a chain wrapped several times around his ankle -- padlocked on! -- connecting him to the pallet. He screams. “Glenn! GLENN!” “Oh, you’re awake,” he hears from somewhere across the unit, out of sight. “And here I was trying to be quiet…” Chock! “What the fuck is going on?” Glenn laughs. “Good tv.” “What? Glenn, I’m chained to this pallet.” “Yeah, I know -- calm down. Freakin’ out is not gonna help you, bro. It’ll be easier if you think of it as an Escape Room -- the intent IS for you to get out, after all.” Chock! “I don’t understand.” There’s a heavy sigh. “Can you stand up, at least?” his brother asks. “So we can talk face to face.” Ben stands, the chain uncomfortably tight around his ankle, his headache pounding. The pallets are just under six feet high (stacked with cases of Cycle One -- perhaps the last cases of Cycle One), and Ben can see over the top. Not that that lessens the horror. His brother -- his massively muscled brother -- Ben still can’t adjust to the change -- is resealing the hole in the cinderblock wall between units two and three, using the broken pieces from before. He spreads a sloppy layer of cement with his bare hands and then drops a cinderblock into it. Chock! He’s rebuilt the wall only a little higher than his chest, so Ben can still see Glenn’s pecs, traps and shoulders -- and of course, his arms. (He’s so big -- it’s just not possible.) “What are you doing?” Ben asks, barely keeping the fear from his voice. “Okay, again -- calm down,” Glenn said patronizingly, spreading cement. “Freaking out will just waste your time. It’s easy to get out of here -- I’m even gonna tell you how.” Chock! “Glenn, what the fuck…?” Glenn reaches through the opening with his muscular arm -- he’s holding a flashlight and a set of keys (he’s getting cement on them from his fingers). He drops them on the floor, well on the other side of the room. “These are the keys to your chains,” he says, pulling his arm back and peeking through the gap. “And my torch, which is a literary allusion -- forget it. Anyway, I figure after drinking a dozen bottles or so, you’ll be big enough to drag that pallet over here and get these keys.” “WHAT?!?” “I told ya, it’s good tv.” Chock! “See, Ben,” Glenn says as he continues re-building the wall, “I knew you wouldn’t drink it voluntarily. No doubt you ran home and researched it and found all the reasons NOT to drink it -- that’s so like you -- but I say when you come across a magic muscle potion, you drink it! That’s the difference between you and me.” Chock! “Would you please stop doing that?” Glenn doesn’t stop -- he continues. “But then I thought, what if he’s his normal smart-ass self? What if he just tears through the heavy plastic and empties the pallet? That’d make it pretty easy to drag across the room, right? So I decided to create another little obstacle for you. Even if you cheat on the pallet (and personally, I don’t think you’re strong enough to tear through the industrial plastic), you still gotta get through this wall. But I figure, after you drink a case, you’ll do it with ease. Look what I did to that fuckin’ roll-up door!” He laughs. “It’s so fucking awesome, Bro!” “Glenn… please…” Chock! “I considered simply force-feeding you, but that’s kind of an overused trope, isn’t it? This way makes more compelling drama. Did you see the camera over by the sliding door?” Ben looks to his left and sees the camera on its tripod atop a pallet of CYCLE ONE, aimed at him, filming his dilemma. Good TV... “I filmed my own transformation,” Glenn adds. “Well, not so solid at the beginning, but I have a cum-shot at the end that’ll blow you out of the water! And my Scanty Fashion Show will get us a ton of views!” “What?” “Trust me, Ben -- this stuff enhances EVERYTHING!” “Glenn, please don’t do this.” “You’ll thank me, bro. That I know -- you just need the right motivation. String bean like you… it’s what you’ve always dreamed of. Big muscles. Feels good. No work. Right up your alley.” Chock! The wall is almost complete -- just a small gap at the top. Enough to maybe get a grip on… Ben pulls on the chain -- he’s securely in place. This is all a little too melodramatic for him. Would his brother actually abandon him here and let him die? What the fuck? “For the love of God, Glenn!” he shouts as the last cinderblock wedges into place. “Stop!” “Get drinking,” he hears his brother say, his voice muffled. “You can be out in an hour! I’ll be over here working out and modeling posers -- haha!” “Glenn! GLENN!” But Glenn doesn’t answer. All Ben hears is the sounds of gay porn -- vintage gay porn -- the moaning and the raw need permeating the cement wall. Beyond that, the clang of weights in the first unit -- Glenn is at it again. Ben screams out of frustration more than anything else, knowing no one can hear him -- they’re in the middle of nowhere. He’s trapped -- TRAPPED! And completely at the mercy of his brother’s dark sense of 19th century drama. He sits against the wall in a fetal position, crying. Why does this have to be such a difficult choice? At the heart, Glenn is right -- he hates being skinny -- he hates being String Bean. Muscle Zombies searching for hidden stashes of Cycle One… Transformations. He still seems like the same Glenn. (Except maybe the chaining his brother around the ankle part…) Just a fuck-ton bigger -- more masculine. Sexier. He holds the bottle in his hand -- firm, hard plastic -- unemotional, cold. What if you held a magic muscle-growth potion in your hands? Would you drink it? Knowing what it would do? (He hears his brother’s obsessive training.) Knowing what it would change? (He hears the vintage porn.) He looks at the camera and flies it the bird. Fuck you, good TV. Finally, long minutes later, the sound of him cracking the bottle echoes around Unit Three.

THE PARAGON PORN QUARANTINE by absman420 “Congratulations, Domenic! You have successfully logged onto the Paragon Porn Employee Reference Site! Please take a moment to fill out your profile page, then we will pair your headset with your bluetooth connection. Please click HERE.” I do. It brings up a page for personal information, regular stuff: address, phone number, payroll forms, social security, the whole routine. I’ve filled out enough of this sort of thing through the years -- business is business, after all -- even in porn companies, you have to pay taxes, it seems. That I’ve even come this far is comical in itself. When my buddy Austin approached me at the gym, I thought he was kidding. I mean, I knew he was a “porn star” -- I guess I shouldn’t use sarcastic quotes there, he’s a legit star, not some guy who’s filmed a couple scenes and uses the title. In that world, Austin was a celebrity -- his name alone could sell millions of units of merch -- he won awards (there are awards!) -- and all the little twinks loved him. (And he loved them -- often.) We worked out at the same gym, we worked out at the same time, we had nearly identical physiques, but we weren’t partners. He preferred entertaining some different fan-obsessed boy daily and I preferred to train alone. 2020 was the year I turned forty and I’d just done my first official contest -- I’d placed second in “Masters” physique, so I was flying high on myself. I’d performed well on stage, mask and all, probably from having been an actor/dancer in my 20’s, and my stage-savvy helped me. And then Austin approached me in the gym and asked me if I’d be into doing some porn? What ego doesn’t need that stroke? I mean, I’d been an actor most of my life -- I knew how to work an audience -- and I’d always been curious about porn. Like… how do you motivate yourself? How do you fuck in front of a crew? Is there any intimacy or is it all business? Is there a script or can you improvise? What do you tell your mom? “Serious?” I asked Austin. “Yeah, sure, why not?” he said, adjusting his mask. “You got the bod for it. And I think you got the cock…” He glanced purposefully down at my crotch -- I adjusted myself self-consciously -- he smirked. It wasn’t the best cock, but it did okay. Was it a porn-star cock? Doubtful. “No one complains,” I said. He winked and said, “I sure wouldn’t.” I chuckled. “Tease,” I said. “You like the twinky boys.” He smiled professionally (seductively). “I like everybody.” I smiled -- the joke was easy but I didn’t take it. “Listen,” he said, “I’m exclusive with Paragon -- they’re great! Best house I’ve ever worked for. They really care about the talent, they provide opportunity for growth, investment, marketing and stuff to help you build your brand.” “That sounds... surprisingly great! I’ve heard that porn kind of chews guys up and spits them out.” He shrugged. “Some studios do,” he said. “It’s a shame. It’s a great way to make a living -- you just can’t let yourself get treated like shit.” I laughed. “You sound like a salesman, not an actor!” “I’m a testimonial. Four years ago, I was just a physique model trying to bust out of the pack on IG -- now I’m a freakin’ celebrity! And I owe it all to Paragon. And they’re looking for muscle tops right now, preferably mature, level-headed guys without sexual hang-ups. I thought of you right away.” I was genuinely flattered. “You did? Thank you,” I said. “I’ve always been curious about porn, honestly… as an actor, I mean. I know that sounds weird…” “No, not weird at all -- we’re not robots. It’s all about creativity -- dude, it’s fun. Give the guy a call and do the initial interview -- everything’s on facetime now… you know, cuz of the COVID, so it’s even easier. I mean, in my day, I had to strip naked and blow the guy…. Kidding, kidding!” He gave me a card -- I thanked him and we elbow-bumped. “Let me know how it goes,” he said, indicating the card. “My number’s on there -- shoot me a text.” “I will, thanks!” I pocketed the card and resumed my set -- he left with his pretty partner, no doubt to fuck. Maybe porn wouldn’t be so bad... ***************************************************************************** “Please select your Virtual Training Coordinator.” There are five different profile pictures to choose from, each a different type -- a lean black guy with mind-blowing abs; a twinky bottom with an impossible bubble butt; a professorial type, all nerdy and neat; a bad boy in his leathers. I pick the one most like me -- a middle-aged, well-muscled bearded guy with a slight roid-gut wearing workout tights that do nothing to hide his prodigious manhood. His blurb reads: “COACH ROD -- great for Jocks and Sports-Gear Fetishes. From straight guys who’ve never sucked a dick to muscle daddies looking to be young again, COACH ROD is for you.” I select “COACH ROD” and a download begins -- I have to give it permission -- finally a pop-up appears with what looks like a FaceTime window with the Coach, a CGI character that seems impressively complex. He’s sitting on the edge of a desk in a locker room/ office -- the place just exudes organized chaos. He picks up a whiteboard and writes on it, then holds it to the camera. “PUT ON THE HEADSET.” “Oh,” I say. I quickly slip the headset on my head and adjust the microphone while I say, “Got it.” “Great,” he replies, his AI voice smooth and rich -- a baritone. “Can you hear me okay? Do I sound clear?” “Yes, I hear you fine -- the volume’s okay.” “Great. Give me a second -- I’m downloading your profile information. We’ll finish filling out your paperwork together and we’ll let my algorithm get to know you a little better, then we’ll work our way through the employee training program. It’ll give us something to do during your two-week quarantine period, right?” “Sure,” I say -- dictating was better than typing anyday. “Seems like kind of a big set-up…” “...for a porn company?” Coach Rod finishes. “Yeah, maybe. I think you’ll find Paragon is the premier studio for a reason -- we treat our people well. Our performers aren’t just assets -- they’re family. It’s too easy in this business to find low self-esteem, drug abuse, burn out, a real use ‘em up and throw ‘em out mentality. Paragon doesn’t have that.” He pauses for just a second, holding up a finger in a “wait a minute” pose. “Okay, I’ve just finished downloading the results of your physical this morning and I’m going to put together a diet/ training program that will better address your needs. You’re in good shape, Dom -- especially for your age -- but you can be significantly better.” When I don’t respond, he looks up into the camera and says, “Problem?” I smile. “I guess I’m just blown away by this technology,” I say. He smiles and touches his muscular body. “Yeah, I’m pretty real, aren’t I? Listen, I’m just an instruction program -- I can be whatever you think you learn best from. Do you want me to change race? Age? Costume? More muscle? Big, shameless cock? Anything that’ll keep you focused. As I get to know you better, I’ll probably refine myself, both in looks and motivational approach, to get the best out of you. We want to launch a successful career for you with Paragon -- that’s always the goal.” “Thanks, Coach,” I say. He laughs. “See? You’re gonna do just fine. Now, let’s start with some basics. I’m gonna ask you a bunch of random questions to get to know you better. Answer honestly -- I’m not going to judge you -- I can’t, I’m just an algorithm right? -- but your truthfulness will matter, so don’t be embarrassed or ashamed, no matter how weird the answer might seem. Okay?” “Go ahead -- shoot!” “You’re gay, right? 100% gay/ 0% straight? Or is there some pussy love in you someplace?” “Well, I fucked my high school girlfriend -- does that count for something? Of course, that was decades ago and I haven’t been with a woman since. So, 100%, yeah.” Coach smiles -- it looks so real. “Top or Bottom?” “Top.” That smile again, as if he knows something. “Percentage?” “If I say a hundred, it doesn’t sound like you’ll believe me, but it pretty much is. I’ve bottomed a couple times but it’s never worked out well.” He hmphs -- a computer hmphs! “Is that because it hurt too much or because it didn’t feel natural?” “Both, I guess. And don’t tell me it’s cuz I haven’t met the right dick, because I assure you, I have! I’m just… not a bottom.” “Okay,” he says, matter of factly. “Being vers will get you more gigs, but maybe if you have other skills. Do you suck cock?” “Uh… yeah, sometimes.” “Do you like it?” “Yeah, it’s okay.” “Are you good?” “Uh… I think I’m okay.” He looks up from his notes into the camera. “Have you ever made a guy cum?” “From a blowjob? No.” “From lacking technique or desire?” “Jesus… these questions.” He smiles a tight smile. “Don’t evade. Answer it -- honestly.” I shake my head as if I’m searching for something to say. “Um… I don’t know.” He nods. “Fair enough. Would you like to watch a training video?” “Excuse me, what? A training video? Are you kidding?” “Of course. Why not? It’s a skill -- and skills can be learned. You learned to ride a bike, right?” “Yeah,” I say, trying to find some way of arguing it. “I guess. It just seems… I’ve never considered...?” A link pops up in a text window below him. “Click on the link,” he says. “We’ll make fun of the acting together afterward!” “Ok, what the hell? I got nothin’ better to do.” “Good man!” I click the link. ******************************************************************************************* You’re in a classroom -- no, it’s a movie set of a classroom -- it appears functional but it’s not real. The teacher sits on the edge of the desk, except he’s clearly not a teacher -- he’s too muscular and tan. Even in his short sleeve dress shirt, his neck ink and forearm tats give him away. Gruffly handsome, his hair and beard are the same shaggy buzz. As he leans against the front of the desk, you see his pants are unzipped and open, revealing his sizeable erection. Aside from you, there are two other boys in the shot. Both are young and handsome, a blond and a brunette in schoolboy uniforms. You are all three on your knees at the feet of the teacher, looking up at him. The brunette is sucking the teacher’s cock while you and the blond look on. You’re in a porn movie, you realize. That makes sense -- just follow the script. “Okay, that’s not bad,” the teacher says. “Work around the base of the glans a little more. Good, good. Like that, yes.” The brunette, confident, attempts to deep throat the “teacher’s” huge cock, but ends up choking and gagging. He backs off immediately, sitting back on his heels. “That’s okay,” the teacher says. “Your eyes are bigger than your throat. That’s why we’re here, to learn. Who’s next? Who wants to give it a try?” He waggles his hard dick. “You?” He looks at you, and you don’t need anything more of an invitation -- his cock is magnificent. (Well, all cocks are magnificent in your eyes -- cockslut!) -- so you shuffle on your knees into a more advantageous position for the camera and you get to work. The script calls for you to be hesitant at first, maybe intimidated -- it’s hard for you to play that when this cock is so clearly suckable -- but you’re an actor, so you do what the director tells you. The “teacher” develops a nice dollop of pre-cum at the tip of his dick as you play with his balls -- he told you right before filming that he’d heard how amazing your mouth was and how much he was looking forward to this scene -- looking into his eyes, you gently lap it off with the tip of your tongue, teasing the slit of his cock for more. Fuck, that’s good! Sweet and slick, it fires you up for more. You grip the base of his shaft with your left hand and begin to roll your tongue around his mushrooming head. “Yes,” he moans. “Very nice.” He begins “instructing” you -- that’s the point of this video, remember -- techniques to stimulate the glans, using the tongue to tickle the very spot where the ends of the glans merge, how to create just enough suction -- this is a swirl, this is a tease, this is how to stimulate the nerve endings -- you demonstrate as he discusses. The whole thing feels very sophomoric to you, you who’s born to suck cock, you who’s such a natural. Without waiting, you plunge deep, taking this spectacular cock into your throat, past your naturally suppressed gag-reflex. You hold your breath and constrict your throat slightly, letting his head run along the soft tissue of your throat. Your tongue is magic. He moans -- loudly. “Yes,” he says. “Very good -- you’re a natural.” You start bobbing your head in a rhythm that grips him, countering that by pulling on his balls. You can tell he’s close -- you’re connected -- it’s a gift you have -- so you decide instead of teasing him and passing him to the blond boy, you’re going to finish him off yourself, this beautiful man and his tasty cock. Who could blame you? You got into porn to show off your skills, after all -- show them! You deep-throat him again and you can actually feel his balls churn. Your mouth races his cum to the tip of his cock -- you pull your head away just in time to have him shoot two long white ropes across your face, then you take his cock back in your mouth and swallow the rest -- your reward. Your drug of choice. You continue sucking him, draining him until there’s no more to get -- what a hunger you have! Little slut. “What a mouth you have!” the teacher praised. “That’s the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten from a Freshman!” You smile, still gripping the base of his dick, and lovingly kiss the head, never breaking eye contact. “I wanna see what he does that’s so great,” the brunette says, standing and revealing his own erection. “Suck my dick!” “No!” complains the blond. “I want him to show me -- I haven’t gotten to do anything yet.” “Don’t worry, boys,” you say, taking one of their cocks in each hand. “I can do this all day!” You suck the knob on one, then switch to the other. They both taste good. “See, boys?” said the teacher, “that’s the kind of cockslut you should aspire to be! You just gotta love it…” And you do -- big cocks, little cocks, thick cocks, bent cocks, heavy cocks, knobby cocks, uncut cocks, hairy cocks, pierced cocks, leaky cocks, old cocks -- you love cocks! Not just having them in your mouth, but pleasing them, pleasuring them, getting them to cum in your mouth… This is an instructional video -- here’s how you get two guys off at the same time. Getting a guy to cum is powerful enough -- getting two guys at once shows you’re a master of technique and desire. When the blond and the brunette are simultaneously shooting their loads across your face, you know what a cockslut you are -- how much you truly love it. The teacher brings your cum-covered face in for a deep, loving kiss. You’re Teacher’s Pet. Fade Out -- End Scene ************************************************************************************************** I wake in the morning to the sun streaming in the window, pleasant and warm, even the cinderblock dorm rooms don’t seem so stark in this light. I’m excited to work out -- my quarantine gym time is from 8-10am, giving me a half hour to have some coffee and smoke a bowl before I have to head down. I do hate working out alone, but it’s way better than not working out at all. (If I had to go through a two-week quarantine with no gym, I think I’d go out of my mind!) As I sip and puff, I scan through my emails. There’s one from Coach Rod -- I’m tickled that my virtual trainer is reaching out to me virtually! (Stoner…) “Hey, Dom,” the email reads, “Check outside your door -- your meal-prep should’ve been delivered by now. I want to bump your training a notch and clean you up a bit before your big film debut! The meals are all labeled -- you’ll have six today -- you’ll see the consumption times on there, too! All good stuff -- I made it myself (haha). “Reply to this email to let me know it’s received and understood and I’ll see you at your Noon Training Session with me. In the meantime, enjoy the gym! Coach Rod.” This is so weird -- I respond so. Outside the door is a cooler with a stack of prepped meal containers. I bring it in the room and transfer the meals to my mini-fridge (but for the one I’m scheduled to eat) and then put the cooler back in the hallway. I continue to be surprised at the budget of Paragon -- this seems a long way to go just to film some pornography. Don’t people make that stuff on their iphones? Whatever -- I’ll enjoy the pampering when it’s offered. I could really use a cock. This quarantine has gotten me horny -- it’s been too long since I’ve had a cock in my mouth. (Hard to believe about a little cockslut like me! I can’t fucking WAIT to finally film and get some fucking relief!) I’d suck on a dildo, I want one in my mouth so bad, but I don’t own one. Fuck! Great time to be a top with an oral fixation. I eat my boring meal of egg-whites and oatmeal and then dress quickly for the gym, baggy shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt. It’s a nice gym and I have an intense workout -- I think of all the people in quarantine without access to a gym -- I’m pumped and gently flexing in the mirrors when I notice someone in the pool on the other side of the glass wall. It’s the first time I’ve seen a live person in three days… ...and already I’m aching to suck his dick. He’s doing laps in the pool, lean and athletic, smooth and practiced. His back and arms are muscular and well-defined, strong but not big. I’m watching him swim back and forth and I’m gently touching myself. Shameful -- but I'm isolation-level horny, so it’s understandable. I watch him for a good five minutes before he finally finishes and pulls himself out of the water, his back to me. A scruffy-bearded redhead, wearing a neon green speedo, his ass is beyond spectacular. As he walks down the deck, he has to reach in his suit and adjust himself -- he’s not hurting in the front, either. What a beautiful, lithe body, not an ounce of fat on him! Is he a fellow actor? Dear God, let him be a fellow actor!!! As he disappears into the locker room, I bring myself back to reality. Damn, I’m horny -- I’m fucking hard watching a guy swim, wishing once again that I’d been on the swim team in high school. Anyway, enough regrets, time for my Training Session. ****************************************************************************** “How’d your workout go?” “Great! I must say, I was feeling kind of bad about having this incredible gym available while the rest of the country’s on lockdown.” The coach coaxes. “But…” “But then I get these great pumps and I get over it.” “You like showing off.” I laugh. “I’m not sure I’d make it a statement like that -- I mean, I like getting looked at. It took me a long time to get up the nerve to compete, though.” “But you’ve been an actor for years -- you’re comfortable on stage.” “Oh, I think that’s what helped my win, don’t get me wrong. But when you’re an actor, you’re playing a role. When you’re onstage in a tiny little poser in a bodybuilding, you’re you, as emotionally naked as you are physically -- it’s way different.” “Would you do it again?” “I don’t know. I mean, the dieting is hell and the shaving is endless… I mean, maybe. I don’t know.” Coach Rod smiles. “What if you had a really big dick that barely fit in your posers?” I laugh. “Everything’s a porn movie to you AI-generated training programs, isn’t it?” “And you evade answers by making jokes.” I think for a second -- how to phrase this? “What man wouldn’t?” I ask. “What man wouldn’t want a really big dick that barely fits in his posers?” “How big?” I laugh. “Porn-star big!” “That’s limited,” Coach Rod says. “Free associate. How big?” “I don’t know -- hyper-masculine, Tom-of-Finland big, ridiculous and seductive, impossible yet challenging, tempting but worrisome -- every teenage boy’s transformation-fantasy big! That’s what I mean. Or do you need numbers?” “No, no. You’ve given me plenty to work with. Let’s communicate with the medical staff and see what’s possible…” “Excuse me, what?” I sit up in my desk chair, nearly choking on my protein shake. “‘What’s possible?’ Did I hear you correctly? They can… do that?” Coach Rod laughs. “You’re asking that of an AI program.” “Which means?” “Which means they can do lots of stuff that used to not be possible.” “A porn company?” “A worldwide adult entertainment juggernaut with a reputation for incredible men with incredible abilities with which you’re entering an exclusive contract. They -- via me -- will drive you to be the best product you can be. Stick with it and I promise you’ll be very well taken care of. All you need to do is look good and fuck guys -- there are worse jobs.” “True...” “Do you have any idea how many men would kill for this opportunity? Do you know how lucky you are, to be entering off the street with no experience into this field at this level?” “I wonder if that’s what my high school guidance counselor would say?” He holds up a finger in a “wait a minute” gesture. “Your high school guidance counselor was Jonathan Witek -- he retired in 2018. By tracing his credit information, I see he has purchased Paragon’s online content for the last six years. He responds to movies about young twinks who turn the tables on and top their authority figures.” “Oh my God…” “With this in mind, we can surmise that he’d approve of your career choice. Perhaps he’ll even be a fan?” “This just gets weirder and weirder.” “Or better and better. Now, you’re scheduled to check in with the medic at 1pm -- you remember where that is, right?” (A facility map appears on the screen with an animated trail that leads from your dorm room to the medical center in the basement.) “I got it.” Coach reappears on screen and blows me a kiss. “Go get ‘em!” he says, smiling. “We’ll talk about doing a video when you get back.” “Okay -- peace.” The box goes blank -- Coach has “signed off”. ************************************************************************************ The medic is dressed in a blue Hazmat suit, which seems a little overboard for me -- his face is shielded and he’s masked beneath. I can only see his eyes, so I wouldn’t be able to identify him if I saw him naked. (I wonder what kind of dick he has?) He’s pleasant enough, but nowhere near the conversationalist my AI-generated Coach is. I try to engage him in conversation as he swabs my nose. “I think you scraped my brain,” I joke as he removes the swab. I can’t tell if he’s amused or not through his mask. “A lot of guys say that,” he responds. “I have to do it that hard.” I smile. “That’s what guys always say.” Nothing. I’m sitting in a chair that reminds me more of the dentist than a medic, but it’s comfortable. The medic sets up an IV for me, puts the needle in my forearm and tapes it in place. As he’s satisfied with the drip, he returns to my chart and reads it over. “Oh,” he says as he spots something he hadn’t seen before. “Says here you’re scheduled for some gential enhancements. Wanna get that started now?” I’m not sure how to take that information -- I’d barely mentioned it to Coach Rod a half an hour ago and here I am. “Sure,” I say, shrugging, not really believing him. “Why not? What have I got going on?” He goes to a cabinet and removes a device that’s connected to a bunch of tubes. It reminds me of a cock-pump, except it’s significantly larger, like it would hold everything. “You’re not wearing underwear, are you?” “Beneath my paper gown? What kind of porn star would I be?” I’m right, the whole of my genitals go inside the tube -- it really has a shape more like a swollen package, not just a cock -- lifting my paper examination gown, he begins sliding the pump on me without asking permission. It creates a seal around the base of my groin like a cock ring -- he then connects the hoses and power cords to a small USB port next to the examination chair. He pulls a pre-loaded syringe from a drawer and injects the contents into my IV. “This is gonna take about an hour or so to run the complete program,” he says in a way that sounds almost bored, like he’s done it a thousand times. “Would you like to watch a video?” “Oh, sure!” I say as he pulls out a VR-headset front he cabinet. “What you got?” He helps me put the headset on and insert the ear plugs. “You’ll like this,” he says as he presses a key on his pad. Just as the video starts, I can feel the suction begin on my groin. Oh damn, I think. This is gonna be good. ****************************************************************************************** You’re onstage at a bodybuilding contest -- no, it’s the set of a movie -- there’s no audience (they use cutaway shots and SFX for audience reactions), only a camera crew. You’re pumped and primed and crammed into your posers, the tiny pouch barely holds all of you, stretched as it is -- the root of your cock is plainly visible. You’re in the final posedown with the other men of your weight-class. The guy on your right is trouble, a big Russian with a back as wide as the Asian continent -- he’s blocky, though -- thick. He doesn’t have your natural aesthetic, your height. Or your huge package. You can’t help your genetics. When you were in high school, going through puberty, having a dick the size of yours made you feel self-conscious -- none of the other boys had dicks as big as yours. It made you feel a little freakish -- especially on the swim team! Perhaps because your balls were so oversized -- goose eggs at 14 -- you put on muscle easily. You started working with a coach and trainer because the owner of the gym saw your potential and you did your first contest at 19 -- you took the Open and the Teen Class! That posing would cause you to get hard was the challenge. Flexing would always get you hard. Your posing coach laughed it off at first -- “You get off on showing off!” he’d say, patting your shoulder as the two of you looked in the mirror and tried to ignore your rod. “You just can’t hide it as easy as some guys!” Even now, all these years later, flexing for others has the same effect on you -- it’s one of the reasons you stopped competing so much. Difficult enough to get past the “does he stuff his posers” memes online -- which secretly turn you on -- but as you got into the muscle worship scene (and started making some serious bank from it), you realized your flexing fetish got you bookings by the score! And sponsors (mostly underwear companies)! And now… movies! You and the big Russian with the acne-scarred back start the posedown. The third guy in the lineup -- the guy on your left -- he’s not even show-worthy, bulky, but with a thick, round ass that can’t be contained in his posers. So you start flexing for the “audience”, for each other, for yourself, and you feel your cock start to come to life, as it always does. Double-bis, to get attention, then you start flexing your legs. You shake your relaxed quad muscle then slap it and flex it hard at the same time, but this is just an excuse for the camera to get your growing cock in the shot and you know it. The big Russian plays along, jamming his leg up against yours and doing the same bit. You can see him checking you out -- his little dick gives him away. He runs his hands down the front of your flexed quad and he makes an “impressed” face. You flex your bicep and let him feel that, too. Meanwhile, your cock grows harder, already testing the limits of its spandex container. The other guy tries to jump in front and do some squat poses, low to the ground, aching for some camera time, some audience recognition. Both you and the Russian ignore him and turn around to do lat spreads. Going from that pose to back double-bi is what causes your cock to pop out of your trunks, the one thing you’ve always worried would happen in actual competition. It’s strangely liberating, letting it go, not able to stop it. You can still feel your balls contained by the strap, but your cock is free, bouncing up as you hold your pose -- when you turn around, the audience screams, -- or maybe you just hear that in your head (it’s a movie, isn’t it?). It doesn’t matter -- you continue your show, fluidly moving from pose to pose as your cock rises to full mast, its head just above your belly-button. The big Russian is hard as well, though his dick is contained in his strained posers. He faces you and, with a smirk on his face, begins punching your pecs. The other guy is on his knees, running his tongue up the grooves in your thigh, nuzzling your bull ball-sac. From your position, you can see his lower back tattoo -- above that magnificent ass -- of two powerful wings. The Russian is behind you, reaching around, running his hand down your cobbled abs, purposefully -- teasingly -- avoiding your huge cock. He pinches your nipples as you continue to flex. And that’s what makes you cum! You don’t even touch your cock -- your arms are up in a double-bis -- but you shoot a massive load anyway. So hard and far it hits the camera lens -- stripes of it coat the face of the guy on his knees and you can tell he’s loving it (and aching to get some of it in his hot hole). The big Russian is standing there pounding his cock. You flex a “Most Muscular” in his face and he shoots his load, which the other guy is more than eager to lap up. You and the Russian make out, feeling each other’s bodies as the other guy kneels there and shoots his load for the camera -- he doesn’t matter. Your cock is the star. ************************************************************************************* Another fantastic workout -- I’m gonna have to be careful or I’m gonna become a regular morning gym guy, even when my contract is up here. What am I now? Eight days into a fourteen day quarantine? Certainly no one could look at me and think me in any way unhealthy. My body is amazing! The training regime, the dietary control, and whatever they’re giving me supplementally in those IV’s is taking my physique to a whole different level. I look so good right now that I hate that no one is seeing me. I haven’t announced what I’m doing on IG yet, but I have put up some thirsty shots after my last few workouts. I’m getting a fuck-ton of hits, not to mention all the people trying to slide into my DM’s. I admit to feeling the slightest bit guilty about my gym access with everyone else on lockdown, so I don’t post videos of workouts like I’d like. For the sake of ease, I pretend I’m working out at home like everyone else. For my chest training today, I’m wearing a red stringer that scoops so low as to show off the entirety of my deep cleavage and a pair of spandex short-shorts, which barely -- BARELY -- cover my oversized package. It looks as though any second my gigantic cock is going to pop out, or flop out, or just wear the material down and tear out. I love being a tease with it -- I know what cockhounds guys are. (At least, I know what a cockhound I am -- and if I saw someone with a cock as hot as mine, I’d be all over him, too. I can’t blame them.) I’ve been dealing with it since being on the high school swim team, learning how to keep it in my Speedos. My gigantic cock -- my gorgeous, gigantic cock. And my swollen bull balls. That’s what got me here to Paragon, right? Austin saw me in my contest and thought, the way my package crammed my posers, I should be in porn! How right he is! Squeezing out the last few reps of cable crossovers, in the reflection of the mirror I can see the glass wall that separates the gym from the pool. I know he’s over there -- I’ve seen him doing laps in the corner of my eye -- that beautiful red-haired boy. So I waddle over to the glass wall and watch him swim. I can see myself in the reflection of the glass, so I practice posing -- my chest looks amazing! It doesn’t take more than a few poses for my dick to start to come to life. Whatever -- I fuckin’ love posing! As my erection starts to get obvious, the red-haired boy gets out of the pool. This time exiting on the side facing the glass wall, so I can see his front, which is just as spectacular as his back. He’s probably 5’10” 190 or so, rips so sharp his abs could cut someone. He wears a pair of black jammers so low on his tight hips that they expose his entire deeply grooved iliac furrow -- called the Adonis Belt -- and rest just above his cock, across his groomed pubis. Other than that and his scruffy beard, he’s completely hairless. Pulling himself up out of the pool, he doesn’t see me until he’s standing, shaking the water from his head. We make eye contact and he smiles an easy, genuine smile. Gorgeous. I smile back, knowing he’s seeing the erection he’s given me -- with my cock (in spandex) it’s a little more than obvious. I salute and wave -- he waves back. We can’t hear each other, so after a few awkward moments of staring, he points to his eyes, then points to me, then waves, heading off toward the locker room -- allowing me to see that ass again. Fuck that guy’s hot. Please, please, please, gods of pornography, let him be my scene-partner. Fucking six more days!!! ************************************************************************************************ Over the last few days, I’ve noticed that Coach Rod has gained some size, especially through his chest and traps (and some big, obvious nipples) -- he’s also dressed more provocatively lately, as if he’s purposefully exploiting my spandex fetish. He’s an AI program, I think. He’s clearly adapting to me -- right? “Coach,” I ask, “who picks what you’re wearing?” He smiles. “You can if you want. Click on this link…” (one appears in the text box) “...and you can pick specific items, or you can just tell me a genre or style and I can work from there. You respond best when I’m wearing spandex.” I laugh. “I know. Feel free to wear as many singlets or posers as you want.” “You got it!” “Tell me something,” I say as I act casual about getting my meal ready, “there’s a hot redhead who’s been swimming laps while I’m training. Do you know who that is?” Coach smiles -- if I didn’t know better, I’d say a knowing smile -- and he says, “Hold on -- let me check the schedule… oh, yeah! Eddie -- Eddie Ginger.” “Eddie GINGER…?” “His stage name. Which reminds me, we need to finalize YOUR stage name…” “Yeah, yeah. Tell me about Eddie Ginger instead.” Coach can’t stop smiling. “Do you like him?” “Of course I like him,” I say. “He’s fucking hot as fuck and I’m horny as a motherfucker! I’m so over this quarantine right now -- you have no idea! I swear to God I’m gonna stick my cock in the first hole I come across and pound on it like I’ve never fucked before!” “Then you’ll be happy to know Eddie’s your first scene partner.” I’m shocked. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask. “That beautiful boy? That beautiful, twenty-something boy is my first scene partner? Oh, fuck, look at this… my cock is already getting hard. I’m never gonna make five more days…” “Eddie’s a really nice guy -- and one of our top-sellers! He moves more units than the next three featured bottoms put together -- you’re very lucky, Dom. Working with him, you’re bound to get exposure.” “How did I win this golden ticket?” I ask. “I’ve always heard the porn industry chews ‘em up and spits ‘em out. As an actor, that’s what’s kept me AWAY from porn all these years! If I thought this were possible…” “Working your way up from the bottom is very hard,” Coach says. “That’s where there’s likely to be use and abuse -- guys who are desperate or addicted or lost -- very few make it out of that. Some are lucky -- they know the right people or they manage their online presence well enough -- but most blossom and die without rising to the level of Porn Star. In some ways, it’s just like Hollywood, right? And you? You got a feature film on a referral -- and that’s gonna piss so many people off. This guy appears out of nowhere and becomes a huge star -- it’s the American Porn Dream come true! It’s just perfect! If only we could finagle you into having been straight before we hired you… that’d be the Porn Hat Trick!” He laughs at his own joke -- how odd that AI can entertain itself. I shrug. “Sorry,” I say. “Can’t help it -- I like cock too much.” “Especially your own!” I laugh with my usual confidence. “Of course -- you know what I’m packing! And you know I love showing it off! You should’ve seen me in the locker rooms in high school -- stupid straight boys standing there with their jaws agape as I wagged my cock out of my Speedo. Do you have any idea how many teenage circle-jerk cock-worshipping scenes I started? Paragon should’ve filmed those!” “Speaking of which, shall we work on a masturbation video today? The one you did yesterday -- the one where you were standing there spinning your cock around like a tassel? -- the producers LOVED that!” “They did?” I ask excitedly. “They saw it? I thought we were just playing around?” Coach Rod was matter-of-fact. “It was good,” he said. “Part of my programming is to alert the producers to content that stands out. Especially from the newbies. They’ve invested a lot in you -- there’s no harm in showing them their money’s not wasted.” I shrug. “I suppose not. I just… I wasn’t being serious.” “That’s what they liked about it -- it had personality. It was obvious how much you enjoy your cock -- that came across very clearly. So let’s make another. I think we should do a seated one this time, so we can really focus on it. What do you think?” “I’m totally in,” I say, flopping down in the chair in front of the camera. “When do we start?” ************************************************************************************** As the video opens, you’re sitting back in a chair -- the camera is at a high angle, looking down, probably not a laptop -- you barely fit in frame, the focus is so tight, your muscles are so pumped. You wear a black baseball cap and a tan-colored thong that could easily be mistaken for nothing if seen out of the side of someone’s eye at the beach. You prefer thongs to jocks -- hung as you are, you prefer the freedom of a thong rather than the tight compression of a jockstrap. You’ll wear whatever the client wants, of course, but you prefer the aesthetic of a thong if given a choice. As you sit back in the chair, you give the audience a chance to appreciate your body, your size, your cuts, your ridiculous abs and obliques. The angle in which you sit, leaning back like this keeps your abs flexed without any effort at all -- you reach your arms above your head and stretch -- so seductive. You know the audience’s eyes are sliding down your torso and focusing on your insane dick -- you’ve done that move before. You flex your pecs, bouncing them slowly back and forth while staring at the camera -- your expression says “come get ‘em” -- but when you play with your bare, pink nipples, pinching them just slightly, your cock comes to life. That’s what everyone’s here to see, anyway -- heck, you’re just the co-star and you know it -- so you allow your cock to grow, quickly filling the confines of the lycra pouch. Keeping one hand on your nipple, you allow the other to trace down the heavy grooves of your abs -- the look on your face, amazed at your own development -- until your fingers land on the top edge of your smooth pubis, slipping along the band of your thong, which itself barely covers the root of your cock. A cock that keeps hardening, seeking escape. Palm down, you slip your fingers under the band of your thong, two on one side of your cock, two on the other, and you waggle the pouch back and forth, slipping the front down the lengthening shaft. Your cock seems to inflate as it’s exposed, like yeast in dough, until the only thing keeping it from springing out to its full glory is the head, still trapped in the pouch of the thong. You put your arms back behind your head, again flexing your impossible abs and weaving your hips back and forth, which makes your trapped cock’s struggle obvious as it aches for freedom. The look on your face seems to expect the viewer to jump through the screen and do just that -- set that beautiful cock loose! Finally, the material loses the battle and your cock pops out, arcs up and over, and slaps loudly on your tight abs, just above your navel, thick and full and near fully erect -- your balls are still in the pouch, so you pull the band down with one hand, pull your goose-eggs out with the other, and let the band slip behind them, the elastic helping to elevate and keep them in frame (for their fans)! You play with your nips again, which causes your cock to thrash about, seeking attention -- it’s nearly twelve inches long, coke-can thick, gorgeous and intimidating at the same time. A pearl white dollop of pre-cum forms at the tip -- you push your cock to the camera, offering it to the audience, then you bend down and actually lick it off yourself. You can put your own cock in your mouth! You start jacking it then, showing us how one hand can barely reach around the root of the thing. It takes both: one to stroke the upper cock, to encompass the head, and the other to work the thick root. It’s a technique you’ve mastered through the years and it’s somewhat hypnotic to watch, the same way a snake charmer tames a cobra. You’ve been jerking this bad boy off for an audience since the locker room on the high school swim team, getting off on the cheering when you’d cum, much less the endless college frat parties where you discovered real big-dick energy, where you learned a cock like you had could get you what you wanted. All you had to do was know how to use it. And you learned how to use it. Happily, it’s never made you cynical, or contemptuous -- you love cock too much. And even if everyone isn’t as lucky as you, a cock is a thing of beauty -- and they all deserve a little love -- big cocks, little cocks, thick cocks, bent cocks, heavy cocks, knobby cocks, uncut cocks, hairy cocks, pierced cocks, leaky cocks, old cocks. And now your cock, the grandest of them all, which is about to shoot. If their volume is up, they can hear the change in your breathing, as your body tries to get enough oxygen to power this explosion. Just as you’re about to shoot, you pull your hands away, revealing the magnificence of your fully erect unit, and the audience can see your balls churn just before two huge ropes of cum blow out of your cock, leaving streaks across your face. You get your mouth open for the third one, catching a great lot of it on your tongue -- you roll your eyes as if you’ve tasted meade. With your right hand, you slowly stroke the base again, allowing the burbling lava that is your cum to continue to spew from the head, coating itself in its own volume, running down the grooves of your abs to gather via the cum gutters of your adonis belt. Once again, you look in the camera, as if the audience is challenging you, and you lean over and flat tongue the tip of your cock, licking an ice cream cone’s amount of cum and swallowing in bliss. You wipe the rest off with the two fingers of your right hand, kiss those fingers, then use them to flash a peace-sign to the audience. The video fades out. ***************************************************************************************** Finally, I wake on the day my quarantine ends! The heavy focus on training and diet have me in incredible condition -- especially for a guy who’s forty -- I look amazing, better than when I’d competed! I’m not as tan as I’d like to be, but my cuts are totally visible and obvious, so I’m not stressed. On the bed, I’ve spread out a bunch of posers and jocks and a couple singlets -- I don’t know what the director’s going to want for the shoot today, so I figure I’ll bring options. Maybe Coach’ll have an opinion -- an AI opinion.... I open my laptop and Coach’s window pops up. He’s a monster now, a freak -- his muscles are so swollen, his body would be barely functional if it existed in real life. Still, he’s managed to squeeze that bulk into the barest of singlets -- an old-school 80’s low-cut, revealing nearly everything. He’s also a redhead, but I choose to ignore that. “Good morning, Dom!” he says with a smile, adjusting his substantial package. “You must be excited to shoot today!” “I am!” I say, mirroring him. “I’m trying to decide what I’ll bring to wear.” “I wouldn’t worry,” he says. “I’m pretty sure for most of it, you’ll be naked.” I smile indulgently. “I gotta start somewhere.” “This is casual -- jeans and a loose t-shirt. This is a ‘buddy-shoot’ -- they’re just testing for chemistry, experience, awareness. It’s not a ‘scene’ -- that usually has a script, or an intent. This is just two guys getting to know each other. It’s easy!” “Easy for you to say,” I say. “I’m horny as fuck. I’m liable to blow the minute we shake hands!” “I doubt it,” he says confidently. “You’ll remember your training.” “So what if I suck or something -- what if I can’t cum or I’m terrible? Will they ship me out? After all this?” He laughs indulgently. “That won’t happen. Believe me, you’re ready. I’ve had two weeks with you -- normally, I get one long Saturday to do it all. The quarantine has been great for us in that regard. You’re here in our bubble for the next six weeks to shoot a shit-ton of content. After that, we’ll reevaluate your contract and go from there -- to be transparent, most of our models choose to stay here in the bubble and continue to shoot. I mean, why not? Unlike the rest of California, you get access to a gym during lockdown.” I chuckle. “That would piss a lot of people off.” He pinches his nipple. “All the more reason.” Ultimately, we settle on my blue posers (just cuz I don’t like the look of my cock down the leg of my pants -- too obvious) under jeans. I prefer a big bulge. On top, I wear a loose, scoop-neck t-shirt, which does display my cleavage, but whatever. My scruff is trimmed and my pump is obvious as I proceed to the studio in the basement. We’re filming in studio 2B, one of the smaller, more “intimate” studios -- I can see a gym set and a dungeon set as I walk along -- I’m so excited! As I enter, there are three people already present -- it’s been two weeks since I’ve seen live people, even longer since I’ve seen people without masks within six feet of each other -- the cameraman is obvious as he tinkers with equipment, setting lights, and running cables. He looks to be about my age, though in nowhere near as good condition, wearing a backwards baseball cap. The other two are talking quietly together. One is the gorgeous redhead from the pool, now wearing jeans and a tank top, and the other is who I assume is the Director. He’s a handsome man in his mid-thirties, slightly stout but not chubby in his tight black jeans and his loose flowered top. When I enter, they both turn and see me -- smiles break out on their faces. “Big Daddy!” the guy I assume is the director says. “You found us!” I smile -- I was loving my stage name: Big Daddy Domenic -- or Big Daddy Dom. (C’mon -- that’s damn funny. And isn’t porn built on puns?) “Yeah,” I laugh. “I followed the breadcrumbs.” The redhead smirks and adds, “No surprise -- they were coated with pheromones.” We all laugh together -- I’m instantly at ease, even if I’m crushing harder than ever. “I’m Michael McFly,” the Director says, extending his hand to shake. (“Why wouldn’t the director have a stupid stage name in porn like everyone else?” I think, shaking it.) “I’m so excited to be talking to human beings!” I say, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “For the last few weeks, I’ve just been spying on people through glass walls.” The redhead laughs, knowing I mean the joke for him. “And this is Eddie Ginger,” the Director says, indicating what I already knew. I hold out my hand to Eddie and instead of shaking it, he hugs me, a warm and genuine gesture. He’s firm but gentle and he smells of clean soap and freshness -- my cock plumps immediately -- I know he can feel it. “Nice to finally meet,” he says quietly in my ear. “I’m excited to film with you.” “So am I,” I whisper back, inadvertently pressing my package against him. “Obviously.” He laughs and slaps my ass as he steps back. “We’re gonna have fun, Dom,” he says, smiling. “It won’t even feel like your first time.” The Director McFly jumps in. “You’re not nervous?” he asks me, gripping my arm around the tricep. “There’s no need for that -- Eddie’s a pro!” “No, no,” I say, holding up my hands in surrender. “I’m excited, not nervous. Excited.” McFly glanced at my package. “So we see,” he says, flicking his eyebrows. I may’ve reddened, a little embarrassed, but Eddie seems to find that adorable! Aside from the camera equipment, there’s only a sectional sofa with a daybed, flat and clean and decorated with a few throws. The walls are industrial gray and bare -- nothing to pull the eye -- but the lights are warm, pink and soft. The Director has us sit on the sectional while he and the cameraman adjust lights and sound. Eddie makes small talk with me about my quarantine and how he finds it funny that we spied each other through the wall -- he says he went back to his room and jerked off. I’m starting to get hard again when the Director says, “All right, looks like we’re ready to get rolling. You guys ready?” “Yeah!” Eddie says excitedly. “Sure am!” I say, ready for anything. “All right, gentlemen, let’s have some fun -- and… ACTION!” And the moment he says “ACTION” I feel dizzy… something deep... ************************************************************************************************* You’re on the set of a porn movie -- there’s only a sectional sofa in frame. You share this sofa with an incredibly hot redhead, sleek and muscular, with cream-colored skin and the small remains of the tan freckles of his youth. He wears comfortable jeans and a red tank top with a unicorn printed on it -- you’re in jeans and a loose low-cut t-shirt, humble-bragging on your ample cleavage. DIRECTOR’S VOICE (off-camera): Hey, everybody! Welcome to another Paragon Porn First Timer Video. We have the always incredible Eddie Ginger with us today as our experienced model. Eddie waves to the camera. “Hi!” he says, smiling. “Been a hot minute since we’ve filmed.” DIRECTOR’S VOICE: And he’s joined today by our newbie, Big Daddy Dom, right? You laugh. “Yeah,” you say. “Domenic Luger. Just Dom is fine.” “Oh, but I like Big Daddy,” says Eddie, punching you in the arm. You smile at him. DIRECTOR’S VOICE: And Dom, this is your first time doing something like this? You look around nervously, glancing into the camera. “Yeah,” you say, with a bit of an enigmatic smile. “But I’m looking forward to it.” “Me, too!” Eddie chimes in, patting your knee. DIRECTOR’S VOICE: So you’ve never sucked a dick before? You act embarrassed. “No,” you lie. “I mean, guys have sucked mine -- guys have BEGGED to suck mine -- but I’ve never…” DIRECTOR’S VOICE: But you’re gonna try today? You look at Eddie enthusiastically -- VERY enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah,” you say, trying not to smile. “Looking forward to it.” DIRECTOR’S VOICE: Well, maybe you guys should do your first kiss. The two of you glance at each other like you approve the idea -- small, teasing smiles -- he slides across the sofa to be closer to you. You wrap your upstage hand around his neck and gently pull him in -- he allows this, already submitting to you. His lips are soft, gentle but confident -- his kiss is more tender than you expect, a little playful, too -- surprisingly intimate. You kiss lightly a few more times, then you finally go in for something a little more serious. Already you feel a connection. As you pull apart, you both mumble “Wow!” and then laugh -- he falls into your arms and you begin kissing a little more seriously. “Take this off,” you say, pulling his tank slightly. He strips it off, exposing his defined torso and his puffy pink nipples -- his abs are so cut and sweet, small little veins evident across his thin skin. “Damn,” you say, running your hand up along his strong core until it ends up cupping his pec and squeezing his nipple -- he gasps. “Look at you and your hot body…” DIRECTOR’S VOICE: Yeah, but Dom, show him YOUR abs! “But I just got off a show,” you say, raising your arms so Eddie could remove your shirt. “So it’s not completely fair…” “Holy shit,” Eddie says as he reveals your abs. “Holy shit -- you praise ME? Dude, LOOK at these abs -- eight pack?” You smirk. “Very early in the morning, before I’ve eaten, yes.” He removes the shirt and you flex for him (which always turns you on.) You bounce your pecs, which makes him flat-palm your chest -- he’s smiling a gleeful grin, clearly enjoying himself touching you. DIRECTOR’S VOICE: You said you just came off a show? A bodybuilding contest? “Yeah,” you say, continuing to flex for Eddie. He’s feeling the peak of your bicep right now. “I compete in what’s called ‘Classic Bodybuilding’ -- we don’t go as big as the freaks.” DIRECTOR’S VOICE: You look very big. “Everything’s very big,” you tease, winking obviously. You indicate your jeans to Eddie. “Help me get these things off.” You both stand, you and Eddie kissing as he unbuttons the waist and fly of your jeans. You keep your hands behind your head and your abs flexed as he opens the waist, revealing the blue poser you’re wearing beneath. “Sexy,” he says, gently pulling the waistband of the posers, then getting back to work on the jeans. He has a hard time getting them down over your thighs -- and you don’t help him by keeping them flexed so he has to struggle. You love to tease. “Damn,” he says, smiling. “You weren’t kidding everything’s big!” “Big thighs is why I’m a bodybuilder, not a physique competitor. Pull ‘em like you mean it!” His tugging makes your package flop around, which you love. Finally, he gets them down to your ankles and you step out of them -- he remains kneeling. “Holy shit,” Eddie says, eye-level with your pouch. DIRECTOR’S VOICE: Do you have to have those specially made? You smirk, adjusting yourself. “Yeah, I can barely squeeze myself into the standard ones -- though I like trying! I worry that one day I’m gonna be onstage and pop right out.” Eddie strokes your thighs and gently grips your hamstrings as he nuzzles into your package. He then licks his tongue up your spandex-fighting cock until he gets to the root, itself barely covered by the waistband of the poser. DIRECTOR’S VOICE: That would make a good movie. Would you mind flexing for us? “Not at all,” you say, and you begin your routine. Flexing has always turned you on -- it’s your favorite part of the sport, certainly not the training! No, it’s listening to the audience screaming, seeing the disbelief and awe in their faces, the desire, the envy. Of course you get hard when you flex. And Eddie is right there, worshipping away, stroking and punching and feeling everything he can, imprinting it onto his fantasies. Facing him, you do an ab/thigh pose, so he can see your half-hard monster straining, yearning for escape. He takes the bait, gripping the waistband with both hands and slowly pulling it down, revealing the entirety of your beautiful cock. When the head pops out, it swings up and swats him on his fuzzy chin. He grins broadly and kisses the head, as you step out of your posers. “Oh, yeah,” Eddie mumbles as he takes it in his mouth -- or as much as he can, which is a surprising amount (more than half). He pulls back and spits to help lube it, then wraps a hand around the base to stroke while he sucks. He’s got a good mouth -- well, he should. (He’s a professional.) More, he’s not afraid of your balls, big as they are. He squeezes and strokes and gently pulls on them, accenting the pleasure he gives to your cock. Adding to your enjoyment, you begin to pinch your ample nipples. You expected to lose track of the camera, to forget it’s there and just focus on your technique. But it’s just the opposite, you’re very aware of the camera -- it’s like you’re showing off for it, opening up angles for better views, making love to it. You know the camera loves your flexed abs as you lean slightly back to make a better picture, the swollen cum-gutters taking the focus right to your magnificent cock, which Eddie slaves away on. He’s got you on the edge and he knows it -- you can see the glint in this eye -- but it’s way too early to cum, horny as you are. No, you want a taste of him first. As he pulls off your cock to catch his breath, you pull him up into a kiss. He wraps his arms around your neck, allowing you both hands free to open his pants. Turning his back to the camera, you slide your hands down over the cakes of his ass and bring his jeans with them, giving a clear shot of his spectacular bubble butt. Spinning him around, you seat him on the sectional and pull his jeans off him -- he leans back, straightening his legs and flexing his own fine abs. He’s got a beautiful cock, uncut, maybe eight-and-a-half inches, pretty pink head -- he leaks precum. You kneel between his legs and kiss him deeply -- it’s hard for him to resist the urge to wrap his legs around your torso, but he does make a show of embracing you with them, gorgeous muscular limbs. You bite his fuzzy little chin, then kiss his neck, working your way down his beautiful body, his pale skin and bright pink nipples (which you make a show of working), then you’re licking HIS abs, defined and obvious, even if not as developed as your own. Finally, you’re at the trimmed little patch of auburn pubes and you can feel his hard cock stroking your cheek as you kiss the base of it. As an actor, you’d like to continue the charade of having never sucked a cock before, but your own internal horniness casts that aside quickly. You’re on his cock like a whore on crack, the sweet taste of precum your drug of choice. It’s no small cock -- Eddie’s a porn-star, remember -- and whether a bottom or not, it’s a nice piece. You’ve been dying for a cock, much less a nice cock, much less THIS fantasy cock for a while now! You’re conflicted about taking your time and savoring the moment or just banging out a desperate load then going for the slow cook on the second. But then you remember teasing the camera is your job, so you make a show of it. It’s possible that Eddie’s that good an actor, but his reactions seem very real, as if he’s legitimately turned on by what you’re doing. You’ve no reason to doubt it -- you are. Fuck, you’re so turned on, living this fantasy cum true, that you never want to step out of your filming bubble. You’ll stay here forever fucking hot guys for fun and profit. (You already want a scene with Austin to thank him.) And then you’re just deep-throating him and going to town, bobbing your head effortlessly on his beautiful dick -- how happy you are to have a cock in your mouth again! The sheer joy of that drowns out any thought of pacing for the camera or making the moment last -- you’re too eager to make this beauty cum! For his part, Eddie moans and rolls his head. He’s up on his elbows, leaning back, so he can look down across his flexed abs at your effort -- he’s supposed to be the “experienced” guy, remember? “I’m gonna shoot,” he moans, as you tug his balls. “Oh, Big Daddy, I’m gonna shoot!” You pull your mouth off his cock, still stroking the base, just in time for him to orgasm, the first volley hitting you right on your tongue. You deep-throat him and he screams, thrusting into your mouth. You flat-tongue his big dick, showing the camera how much cum he produced, and just swallow it all. “Oh, fuck, Big Daddy,” he mumbles. “Oh, fuck…” You advance onto the sectional and kiss him, sharing his taste. Then, in a semi-push-up position, you continue to slide up his body, until he’s face to face with your monster cock. He takes the head of yours in his mouth and you begin doing push-ups, slowly dipping your cock into his mouth, then rising back up. The camera loves your muscular back. You sit back onto his torso, putting his arms under your knees in a wrestling school-boy pin. The tip of your erect cock rests on his chin -- he only has to slightly lift his head to get it in his mouth, which he does. “You want it, pretty boy?” you ask, tapping the head of your cock on his lush pink lips. “You want Daddy’s big load?” “Yes,” he answers, trying to lick your cock with the tip of his tongue. “Please, gimme it! Please!” It takes little more than a few tugs and you can feel your big balls churn. “Here you go, Eddie,” you say as you release your cock and flex a double-bis just as you begin your orgasm. Your first shot crosses his entire face, but he gets his mouth open for the second one. But you don’t stop -- it’s been too long. You just keep shooting and shooting, volleys that just coat the redhead’s pretty face. You’re panting as your finish, releasing him from your hold. As he sits up, the two of you kiss, your cum running down his face -- you snowball it back and forth, as you wipe the rest of him clean with your hand. The two of you are laughing about the amount. DIRECTOR’S VOICE: A-a-a-a-and CUT! The moment he says “CUT”, you feel dizzy… something deep… ******************************************************************************************************* Eddie and I are standing in each other’s arms, soaked in cum, giggling like schoolgirls. Someone throws us towels and we begin wiping each other down. (It’s a lot of cum!) The Director is still talking to us. It’s clearly a Post Show -- the camera’s still rolling. “That was great you guys!” he says. Eddie laughs, wiping his face. “Dude shoots some big loads!” he says. I shrug. “I do everything big!” I laugh. Eddie is playing for the camera -- he points to your cock and brings his hand to the side of his face in an “astonishment” pose. In the same spirit,I spin him around and show the camera his perky bubble butt, smacking it with my open palm. He laughs. “All right, thank you guys,” the Director says. “Great shoot!” “It was a lot of fun,” Eddie says, playfully kissing me. “It was,” I agree, kissing him back and glancing at the camera. “That was just… easy. I could do it all fuckin’ day!” He chuckles. “Don’t say that too loud or they’ll make you!” He slides into his jeans. “I guess you’re coming out of quarantine, right?” “Yeah!” I say. “Finally…” “Well, then maybe I’ll see you at the gym and stuff?” I smile, sliding my jeans up over my ample quads. “I hope so!” I say enthusiastically. He strolls up to me seductively. “I’m sure of it,” he says. “I’m gonna put in to do a full-scene with you.” “What?” I ask. “Are you kidding? That would be fuckin’ AWESOME!” He indicates my bountiful cock as I tuck it into my jeans (I didn’t put the posers back on). “Big Daddy, I want to get fucked by that log -- it’s fuckin’ hot as fuck.” “Anytime.” He smirks. “How about a shower scene right now on my OnlyFans page?” “Let’s go!” ************************************************************************************************ Outside the bubble, the virus continues to run unchecked, gyms are still closed, lockdowns still enforced, Americans still feeling like masks infringe their freedom -- it’s just unbelievable. Naturally, desperate to stave off boredom, people are seeking content, entertainment, anything to fill the time. And nothing fills time better than porn. Most of the major entertainment companies set up their own production bubbles, but Paragon was far-and-away better prepared than their major competitors, creating what the industry has been calling Paragon’s “Porn World” where all the biggest names live and film as if it were still the Before Time. My first six weeks are up today and I’m hoping my contract will get renewed. I’ve been filming almost daily, mixing and matching with the other studs in the bubble -- it’s honestly been some of the best times of my life, professionally. Well, socially, too -- I’ve made some good friends and fuck-buddies. I open my laptop to see Coach’s Tab blinking. I open it and link up with the program. “Good morning, Dom!” “Morning, Coach! What’s the word?” “Your number’s are great!” he said. “They’re offering you a contract extension. Would you like to pull another twelve weeks?” I don’t even have to think about it. “Hell. Yes.” I love this job so much -- seriously, they can use me until I’m dried up and dead. I don’t care. “Great!” he says. “I’ll forward the contract to your email and we can get it done. There’s a couple of perks we can talk about, but it’s an improvement over what you were getting. Of course, they’d like you to start performing private services for clients…” “Private services?” I ask, suspiciously. “I don’t know, Coach. It’s one thing to be a porn star, it’s another to be a whore.” He laughs indulgently. “It’s not being a whore,” he says. “Here, let me show you a video…”

I walked towards the chamber, I had to trust my instincts to keep on going forward, as I walked I could hear my shoes tapping on the floor of steel. ... Suddenly, when I moved to a certain point on that dark room, the lights turned on, revealing a grey room filled with desks and gadgets, I was surprised I could move without bumping into them. I kept on moving, then suddenly I stopped, as an object caught my attention, a dogtag, soaked in some gooey liquid was above one of the desks, almost falling on the floor, it was silver and had an engraving in it saying: Ξαναγεννιέμαι στρατιώτης Είμαι μυς Ζω για να προστατέψω I could tell it was greek, though I couldn't say the meaning of those words. My curiosity got the best of me, I caught it by its small ball chain, and started studying it more closely, I kept on walking, but now slowly, as I analyzed what I had in my hands. The object was light and captivating, at least for me. In the end, I decided to keep it, passed the chains through my head and carefully put the dogtag inside my clothes. I started to feel a tingly feel, started in my hands, that had some of that gooey liquid present on the dogtag, and then it spread towards my chest. I kept on going, but I started to feel worse and worse. I ignored the burn in my body as I could, as I wanted to keep exploring that desert lab. Then I saw a chamber, in the corner. I walked towards the chamber, I had to trust my instincts to keep on going forward, as I walked I could hear my shoes tapping on the floor of steel. I saw it was large enough for a couple of men to be there one next to the other, but overall nothing than a weird elevator, so I thought, and as I started to move outside it, the doors closed. I was surprised, and then a gooey liquid started to rain above me, covering me into it, what a stinging substance, I started to panic and cried for help, but none was around, none came. My skin burned and the liquid started to flood the place, I was desperate, crying for help, and as I did, more and more of the substance poured above me, quickly inundating the chamber. Before I realized, I was floating in the middle of the chamber. My body was absorbing the liquid, and I screamed in pain as I tried to understand what was happening. Slowly, I realized I was growing taller, not only that, but I could feel my clothes tightening across my body. "How could this be?" I thought as I stopped screaming, even if the pain was still overwhelming. My body grew, my muscles expanded, slowly first, then faster and more aggressively. I felt my chest inflating, my pectoral becoming wide and robust. My screams started to thicken and becoming deeper, I could sense my abs growing inside me, carving its ways into the surface, aggressively and sharply. I could see the progress as my shirt finally started to gave in, revealing more and more of my strong pecs, with each nipple further and further away from each other, I was growing wide, my abs were expanding fast now, my scream was a roar now, and I felt pleasure in the pain, more and more. Not only my shirt, my pants also gave in, starting to reveal my strong legs, thicker and with every single muscle being sculpted into it, my trousers also gave in, revealing that my... my penis was growing too, it was thicker and bigger, and was hard. I could taste my pre-cum mixed within the substance. The smell was overwhelming, and more and more came from my body, I was transforming. And it didn't end there, as I was naked, exposed, with my arms standing beside me, my strong muscular arms, my shoulders, my heroic shoulders, wide and robust, that could sustain so much weight. As I was naked, exposed, I was rushed with a urge to fuck, I had to stroke, I was turning into a monster, and the thought of it invaded my mind, washing away every other thought I had before, I was a soldier, I was a big, thick, muscular, wide soldier, and I felt the urgent need to release my newfound power, I grabbed my cock with my strong veiny hands and violently masturbated, with a strong vigor, the pleasure was blinding, I was moaning and bellowing and roaring, my gutural noise was transforming me even further, I stroke furiously, as my abs grew wider, my nipples were wide apart from each other as my pecs were huge, and the dogtag was there, shining in my chest, feeling my strong heart beating, its sound mixing it with everything else. The dogtag was there beside my body, glued by the musk, the musk that mixed with the formula, that mixed with the pre-cum. I reached the peak of my existence and I came in so strong jets that the chamber started to break down, the cum started a different reaction within me, it was the missing link for my departure to the human race. I grew even thicker and wider, stronger and now my skin was mixing itself with the formula, with my own musk, with my cum. It was solidifying around me, becoming my shield, my new skin, I could feel every cell of my body boiling, and the formula washed away my blood, replacing it. My hair was no more, a strong cover of horns was in its place, I was roaring in octaves so low I wondered if anyone could actually hear me if they could. Not only roaring, but letting my pleasure escape through my words. "Fuck, I fuck, uhhhh, transform me, transform me more, me want more" My older being was lost. I was a creature beyond this world now, my pecs insanely wide and muscular, my thick abs, impenetrable. My strong cock was mutated beyong recognition, evolving beyond my control, not that I wanted to control it, I wanted to unleash my new power. I was transforming, stronger and stronger, and I want more. The liquid was no more, my body had absorbed it all, I opened my way out the chamber with my bare muscular hands, and as I did, again I jerked off, it was the only thing I could do, the only thing I wanted to do. I was reborn a soldier, a voracious one. I am reborn a soldier. I am muscle. I live to protect.

Note from the author: This one is dedicated to all the ones who are into dad musclegrowth stories, hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it. (written in 2008) Dad Recovering Authority Marta was frying some eggs in the pan when she heard his son coming out of his bedroom "Ricky, come over, food is almost ready!" "Oh sorry mom I've got to go" "Go now?! you didn't tell us anything, Rick you're only 15!" "Oh not that crap again" As they were discussing, Hector, Marta's husband and Rick's dad, entered the front door. "Hi everyone!" Hector said "Oh Honey", replied Marta, "did Ricky tell you he was going out tonight?" "Well, not at all... Where are you going young man?" "I'm going out with uncle Dick, you know, have a couple beers" "I don't think that will be possible, you or your uncle must let us know with anticipation when you're going to go out", said Hector in a tone as severe as he could, these moments he wish his voice would've been more manly and deeper but it was a little bit higher pitched than he expected. "Are we starting with this crap again?", replied Ricky in an arrongant tone. "Ricky, your school grades are disastrous, your teachers keep complaining about your bad behaviour, you insult us, instead of studying you drink beer or smoke weed all day long, what's going on with you?", demanded Hector. "Bla bla bla, leave me alone you picksweak!", as Ricky let this out he pushed his dad away, with enough force to make Hector tumble and fall to the ground. Despite being just 15, Ricky had grown quite big, he was 1,80m (5'11") and weighed 85Kg (190lbs), he was also recruited for the school's rugby team and had regular workouts so he was very well built and strong for his age, he got the genetics of his uncle Dick, Marta's brother, who was a big and strong sportsman as well. Hector, on the contrary, was dwarfed by his son at just 1,70 m (5'7") and weighed just 65kg (150 lbs) and he couldn't help feeling intimidated when he had to impose some limits on his kid. Then the doorbell rang and Ricky rushed to open, it was Dick, the figure of the 1,87m (6'2") and 110kg (250lbs) stud impressed everybody, he was wearing a leather jacket and looked young and handsome. He rode a motorcycle "So, are you ready for a ride with your uncle, buddy?", he said to Ricky in a friendly tone. Hector recovered and stood up from the floor, he and Marta got closer to the front door. "I'm afraid Ricky can't go with you, Dick", said Hector, Dick looked down on him with despise, as if he was looking at a rat. "Ricky's grades have been very bad lately and he's not allowed to go out, besides I don't want you to take him to drink beer, he's 15 for Christ's sake!", said Hector in anger. Dick laughed and made a mocking gesture with his hand and said "bla bla bla bla!", then looked at Ricky with a sympathy grin. As the young boy was going out Hector tried to grab him but Dick pushed him away with such force he couldn't beat and forced the smaller man violently towards one of the walls of the room. Ricky left the house and jumped on Dick's bike, the uncle accelerated his motorcycle, screamed "Ciao!" and left. As the sound of the bike was fading out in the distance, Marta got close to her husband and hugged him, "Oh honey...", she said "Your brother's been an ass you know..." "Yes, I'll have to talk to him about this" "How many times have you talked about this with him? And he doesn't change, I don't like the example he's giving our son" "I know honey, I do what I can", said Marta as she caressed his husband. Although he was a small guy, Hector was quite handsome, he had strong well cut black hair, a thick well groomed full beard, strong jaw, straight nose and handsome hazel eyes. Marta had told him a couple of times he should work out some more, specially because in her family most men were naturally muscular and strong, nonetheless she loved her husband because he was a good man, there was nobody more considerate and caring as him and because he was very smart, and she understood that his occupation left very little time for extra activities. At 39, Hector had two college degrees, as biochemist and as a medicine doctor, he was working for a government contractor researching for the army, in the P.E.S.D. department (Physical Enhancement and Supplement Development). His job was in part to blame for the lack of respect his son had for him, he wished he could've spent more time with him during all of Rick's childhood. The following day, a sunday, it was 8 am when Ricky and Dick returned. Rick was drunk and could barely keep standing. Dick was kind of high but not as drunk or unconscious, Marta and Hector asked him why did he let his son get drunk, Dick didn't reply he just dragged Ricky and threw him on Hector and Marta's arms, who took their big son to his bedroom with quite an effort. They let Ricky sleep until noon when the kid woke up and served himself some cereal, as Marta and Héctor were in the kitchen. Marta was trying to open a jar of marmalade but it was too well shut for her "Let me help you sweetie", said Héctor and grabbed the jar, he tried to unscrew the cap for several minutes but he couldn't. Ricky laughed, "haha you're so weak, better let a man do it!", the kid said and took the jar off his dad's hand. He grabbed it tight, strained and bent over and with a pop the jar was open and handed it to his mother. Héctor gave him a serious look. "Son, I expect you to spend the rest of the afternoon improving your math", said Héctor. "No way! Coach says we've got to train on weekends now, so I'm going to the stadium to kick some ass and make these guns grow", said Ricky cheerfuly as he checked his big young arms. "What?! You're not, you're staying here!", said Héctor "Haha, and who's going to force me, you wimp?!", Rick replied defiantly. "I'm your dad boy, you must do as I say" Ricky just laughed and stood "Hey, you're going to finish that", Héctor voice trembled in anger pointing at the cereal. "Ah forget it, I'll buy something to eat outside" "And where do you get the money for that? I didn't give you anything!", Héctor remarked "Uncle Dick gives me money" "I'm not going to let you hang out any more with him! he's a bad influence" "Well, he understands me, he's twice the man you are, you -little daddy-" Héctor was furious and tried to grab him but Ricky shoved him away, when Héctor insisted his son punched him hard in the face, Héctor was shocked, dizzy and blood came out of one of his lips. Ricky walked away and closed the door violently behind him. Marta got close to Héctor, and when he recovered his senses he decided to call Ricky's coach, he had a few things to talk to him. "Hi, I'm talking to Mr Trachine?" "Yeah, it's me" "Hi, I'm Ricky's dad" "Oh yeah Ricky, one of our best kids, you got top material there" "Yeah well, he told me you're going to start training on sundays too?" "Yeah, we've the nationals coming up and I want this team to be the best!" "Well, we have a problem with that in here our son needs to improve his grades and sunday is the only moment we can stay all together at home and help him with his studies" "Look, Ricky has told me a lot about you, I don't care if you're such a nerdy wimp who wants to study all day, but your son is not like that! Unlike you he's one big and strong athelete and that's something you won't understand ever in your life!", said Mr Trachine in a mocking tone. "You aren't giving roids to my son, are you?!", Héctor had suspected about this for a long time "That's none of your business, let your son decide what he wants to be!" "But he's 15! I'm not going to let him play anymore!" "And how are you going to stop him you sissy man?, I hear your voice in the phone and can't stop laughing you sound like a girl haha I'd like to have you in front of me and kick your butt!" Héctor hung up the phone in anger. "He's such a jerk!" He went to the bathroom and cleaned up his face, his lip had stopped bleeding but it still hurt, the situation had surpassed his capacities, Marta tried to calm him down and they went to sleep until the following day. At the lab Héctor and his assistant, Daniel, researched a series of experimental compounds called super HGH (human growth hormone) or sHGH, these substances were modified molecules of HGH mixed with radioactive isotopes. It was discovered that this mix greatly increased the effect of HGH stimulation in physical healing, strength, muscle and bone growth and also reducing the side effects to almost zero. The government was extra cautious about these type of research and the verification and use of this compounds were going to take decades, they've been treating two volunteer subjects, two soldiers, with a very diluted version of sHGH, they've been giving them a dose of 1 microgram a year for five years now. The effect of the treatment in these men was like having the most powerful anabolic steroid ever and multiplying it by ten. The men kept training regularly as they normaly did with the only difference that their muscles grew a hundred times faster than those of the rest of the soldiers, their muscles also grew more dense and solid, thus becoming a lot stronger than their peers. Along these five years of treatment both test subjects attained the equivalent physical strength of 10 soldiers. Other added benefits from sHGH included strengthening of bone structure (their bones became eight times as resistant) increase in height (both men became two inches taller), dramatic increase in stamina and physical resistance at all levels, improved sexual performance and genital size. Sometimes Héctor and Daniel thought the goverment kept their investigation at a too slow pace, the dosage they were using was ridiculously low, the machine that synthesized the drug produced vials of 10 grams of sHGH, they had to use only 1 microgram which is a tenth of a millionth of that dose. They thought if they used 10 micrograms they'd achieve the results of five years in two hours, still being completely safe and without side effects. Probably, they thought, they didn't want a soldier to become too powerful by accident, so powerful they'd be unable to control him. The test subjects had become very powerful but they still could be killed by bullet fire, in theory a higher dose of sHGH can make someone's body structure so tough that not even bullets would be able to pierce that subject's skin. It's been a while now that Héctor began to fantasize about giving himself a shot. What would stop him from doing that? He knew the drug was safe, all the testing in animal and human subjects was successful. Only 5 micrograms would make him grow enough to give his son and the rest a lesson or two. He decided to talk to Daniel. Daniel thought it was crazy at first, but then he realized that they hadn't tried doses higher than 1 mcg, which is ridiculous, for the sake of the investigation they needed to do this and it would help Héctor who was a great friend and teacher for him. "So, are you going to prepare the 5 mcg diluted compound for me?", asked Héctor "Yes, I'll make it today and you'll have it by tomorrow early morning" The drug had to be prepared and used within two days or the isotopes lost their effect, once in the body the effect of the physical changes were permanent and the body seemed to "learn" and kept working in an invigorated way indefinitely. They left all compound vials in a special sealed fridge in the lab, there was a little amount of radioactivity involved but nothing harmful. While Héctor was at a meeting where he detailed the progress of their research, Daniel spent the whole afternoon preparing the 10 grams vial, the process took several hours and was very complicated, at 8 pm Daniel was tired as hell, and dilluting the drug took at least 4 hours of work, so he decided he would leave the process for the following day, he'd arrive earlier and tell Héctor he had to wait a couple more hours until it was ready. The following morning Héctor had another argument with his son, he'd been arriving late at school for several days, he couldn't take it anymore and left home without even having breakfast, he arrived at the lab, anxious to start the drug test asap. As it was too early, Daniel hadn't arrived yet, so Héctor eagerly checked the fridge and found the compound vial "Awesome!", he said cheerfuly and grabbed the vial, he checked it, there was no way to distinguish diluted sHGH from non diluted, it was just transparent liquid, so he thought it looked well enough. He loaded the fluid inside a syringe and popped it into one of his veins. A few minutes passed without any changes, when Daniel entered the lab. "Morning!" "Hi Daniel, good morning!" "Oh, Hec, you'll have to wait for a few hours I have to dilute the...", said Daniel as he saw through the fridge door's blindex glass that there was no vial. "You mean that vial was not diluted yet?!" "No, it wasn't" "Oh shit!", Héctor panicked and instantly he began to feel tremendous pain, then fell to the ground and bent over, he screamed for about 15 minutes of the most torturing agony, he thought he was going to die. Then pain relieved a little and he began to feel his clothes getting tight. He was wearing a shirt with stripes and flannel trousers. Daniel could clearly see that the body was growing and stretching the fabric. It started slow but increased in speed every second and soon Hector's legs began to surpass the length of the trousers until they barely reached his calves, his shoes were also being streched out by his growing feet until they split open leaving him bare foot, at the same time, Daniel began to see Héctor's torso growing in size, bulking up and stretching the shirt, soon it ripped open as the back widened tremendously, his lat muscles that were non-existant before, began to spread like wings of meat. The buttons in the front of the shirt popped off and flew all over as his rib cage expanded and his pecs jutted outwards, the shoulders inflated like balloons and the arms grew in length until the shirt sleeves were too short while at the same time his upper arms increased in size and perfected their shape until they were bigger than rugby balls, instantly tearing out the fabric, his forearms also filled with solid muscle mass. At the same time his ab muscles began to appear from nowhere, his thighs shredded the trousers and became two tremendous slabs of powerful muscle, where divisions and crevices could clearly be seen inside, his calves grew in proportion with the thighs and took a powerful shape, while at the upper part of his body his neck was thickening along his deltoids that were growing to grapefruit size or more. His head also grew a little bit in order to keep proportion with his new body, as long as slight changes in his complexion, like a slight growth of the chin and a slightly stronger facial structure that actually increased his good looks and his manliness. While the transformation finished, Héctor was still crouching on the floor, he was drained from the process, the remnants of his clothes were still over his body, suddenly he began to feel a lot of strength coming into him, all the tiredness and dizzyness disappeared, and he experienced a surge of tremendous power. He stood up revealling his whole body to Daniel. "Holy crap!" he let out, in a voice that wasn't his as he felt his own new body. "Hear my voice, is this me?", he said, his deep booming tone made the room shake "Do you feel ok?", Daniel asked "OK?!", Héctor replied loudly and powerfuly, "OK is not enough, I feel like a locomotive!", he said as he took off the shredded pieces of fabric that remained drapped around his body, bent his enormous arms and flexed his chest contemplating his new muscle mass and checking his new physique. He ripped away what was left of his trousers revealling his genitals. Daniel lowered his gaze to Héctor's dick and opened his eyes wide. Héctor also looked down and though blocked by his enormous chest muscles he could catch a glimpse of his new prick and balls, they were the size of a bull. Héctor couldn't help let out "Darn, I'm a fucking bull!", then quickly added, "Hehe sorry this is embarrasing", Héctor blushed and covered his crotch with his huge hands. "Don't worry I'll get you something to wear from our test subjects". Daniel quickly got a pair of black shorts from a drawer near by and got close to Héctor to hand them, the now big man grabbed them and crouched to put them on forcing them to fit over his huge muscled butt and big dick and balls. It was snug but it fit. As Héctor stood again with his short pants on, Daniel coudln't help contemplate the new man up close. From his perspective, Héctor was now a mountain of muscle, he looked down on him, almost two heads taller, and so wide it covered most of his eyesight. He contemplated one of his upper arms and realized it was bigger around than his own torso. He looked down at one of Héctor's thighs and also reckoned that there had to be more condensed muscle in that thigh than he'd have in his whole body if he trained in a gym for ten years. "Damn, you're so huge, I wonder what your measurements are!", said Daniel, "let's go have a measure" They went to the next room where they had training equipment, strength testing machines and measurement devices. Héctor felt amazing as he walked with his new legs, the floor seemed to squeal under his weight, but he felt as if he was light as a feather. Héctor knew the place and immediately got over the measurement platform, there a few lasers circulated his body and took extremely precise measurements. "Ok", said Daniel as he looked at the screen, "you're now 2m (6' 7") tall, weigh a total of 207 Kg (462 lbs), your upper arms are 75cm (29") soft, wow your forearms are like 50 cm (20") that's as big around as my thigh! Your chest is 220 cm (86"), legs 115cm (45"), my god! Would you bend an arm for me?", Daniel asked and Héctor did it smiling broadly. "Wow, your upper-arm is 85cm (33") flexed", Daniel almost screamed. "You won't believe this, your physical structure has reached level theta density", said Daniel in technical jargon. "Oh my god, that means..." "If our theory is right, you won't have to worry about bullets from now on, and your bone amd muscle structure are probably the most powerful thing that exists on earth" "There's one thing still to measure, would you take down your pants?" Héctor was familiar with the procedure as they did this with their test subjects regularly and pulled down his pants, revealling his large man meat. "Ok then, measuring... wow, your dick is 17 cm (7") limp, and 10cm (4") around" "Holy crap! That's what I call a man!", said the now big stud. "And now for the erection measurements" Héctor immediately stroked his cock until it was erect, the thing was huge and hard as steel, like he'd never felt before. "Geez, you got a 28cm (11") long dick now! Girth of about 18cm (7")"... said Daniel trying to sound profesional. That thing looked like it could penetrate a wall of steel. Héctor put his pants back on, got off the platform, smiling broadly, feeling better than ever in his life "Now let's check your strength, why don't you try picking up that weight over there?", suggested Daniel. It was an olympic weighlifting 500kg (half a ton - 1100 lbs) weight in a corner, the test subjects began to use as part of their training as they got stronger. "OK", the big man replied and went in front of the weight, then crouched and took the ends of it cautiously, preparing for an extenuating effort. Then he stood, picking up the weight to the height of his shoulders, "You gotta be kidding me, right?!", Héctor boomed at Daniel. Daniel was puzzled. "This weighs nothing!", said Héctor and took the weight over his head, then released one of his hands and held it just with his left arm. He turned the weight around to check it out, apparently it had two 250 kg plates in it, "My god! This is half a ton of weight, right?", Héctor said rejoyced at how easy it was to handle it for him now. "Yes, it's certified weight!" Héctor toyed around with the weight tossing it in the air and exchaging hands, he smiled and put his hands at the ends near the plates, then easily bent the steel bar like it was made out of butter, "Awesome!", he let out and put the weight on the ground. Marta was a teacher and she was correcting some exams at the kitchen table, when she heard the front door open and some heavy thuds that sounded like someone walking, the living room's wooden floor squealed badly. "Hi honey, is that you?!", she screamed Héctor didn't know how to show himself but he thought what the crap "Yes, sweetie! I've got a surprise for you", hollered Hector in his now booming bass voice. Marta was confused, the way he spoke was that of her husband but the voice was so deep it'd put Barry White to shame. "Are you ok honey?! You sound weird" "I know, come over and you'll see why" Marta stood and entered the livingroom and she first got the creeps, there was a huge man standing - no - filling up her whole living room, the man was wearing a tight grey t-shirt, black short pants and a pair of tennis shoes, all she saw was muscle on top of muscle and took her a while to realize that the head attached to that tremendous physique was that of Héctor. "Oh my god!" she said and fainted. Héctor quickly grabbed her with one of his big hands and easily picked her up holding her single-handedly. He thought to himself how many times he tried to be romantic and lift her up in his arms and how he always failed and they ended up falling on the ground, now it felt like his hand was holding the lightest thing in the world. He gently layed her down on the couch and waited a few seconds until she recovered "Oh my god, she said, is that you? Héctor?" "Yes" "But how?" "I can't say, but it's obvious that this is thanks to my research" Marta sat up and grabbed one of her husband's upper arms. "Damn you're enormous!" Héctor bent his arm for her, she caressed the enormous bicep peak. "Hehe, yes, I think I've gone too far" "No, I love it! I'd always been around big men and I knew I'd made the right choice of choosing brain to brawn, no matter what my family said" she said as she run her hands over his enormous pectorals feeling the solid round muscle, "now you'll make my brother look tiny!" "That jerk!", Héctor said, "I'm eager to see him again! When is Daniel coming back?" "Oh, he'll be back any minute, this is going to be such a surprise for him!", Marta said. "Indeed!" When Ricky turned back home he entered the kitchen fast, he could only see his mother there, "Hi Mom!" "Ricky why are you in such a hurry?", asked Marta. "Is dad home?", Ricky asked "No, he didn't return yet." she lied, "But what are you doing", Marta asked again as his son was opening the fridge and engulfing all he could. "I'm on the go mom!" "Where are you going?" "None of your business" Marta walked close to him "Son, why don't you stay here to eat with us?" "I don't want your crappy food!", he shoved her away and walked towards the kitchen doorway. As Ricky was leaving, he bumped into something hard that forced him to stop, he didn't understand what it was at first, but when he gave a second look he realized it was a man, a very big man, in fact, the BIGGEST man he's ever seen, tall enough that his head brushed the top of the door frame, wide enough that he had to shrug to let his wide shoulders past the frame. As seconds passed he distinguished more features in this behemoth of a man, his legs were so big that not even the biggest guys in his rugby team had legs half that size, he possessed upper arms so thick that he could fit his head two times in each one of them, a chest that was four or five times bigger than his. The enormous man was more than a head taller and looked down on him, Ricky pertrified when he realized the huge man was Héctor. "Dad!?" Héctor smiled and walked towards him slowly. Ricky instinctively retreated. "Well, little fella, looks like you'll have to apologize to your mom!", said Héctor in a deep vibrating tone that made all of Ricky's body shake. "What happens? Mice ate your tongue?", said Héctor cheerfully and put his huge hand in one of his sons shoulders. "It's you dad! how did you become like this?!", asked the young man "Well, that's -none of your business-", replied Héctor mockingly "I don't hear you apologizing", the big man said and lightly pushed his son towards Marta, the dad's faintest touch was enough to make all of Ricky's body shake. "Sorry mom, I didn't mean it...", said Ricky, ashamed Marta and Héctor nodded. "So, where were you going, Ricky?", asked Héctor and put his hands in his hips expanding his enormous torso. Ricky took a moment to answer, "Oh, uncle Dick will take me for a ride in his bike, just, you know, go to a few places...", Ricky's tone was already more humble. "Well, you're not going anywhere" said Héctor with firm and extremely manly tone. "You can't force me!", defied Ricky as he motioned out of the kitchen. Héctor put his index finger in his son's chest and pushed forward, that was enough to throw his son against the wall in front of him, "Well, I think I can", replied Héctor. "Well I don't care how big you are...!", Ricky continued Héctor smiled and grabbed his son's jacket with one of his hands, lifting him off the ground like a scarecrow. "It seems that you don't quite get it, right? From now on, things are going to be very different in this house, you're not going out with uncle Dick or train in the weekends until your grades improve, am I clear?", said Héctor as he lifted his son up some more in the air. Then they heard the front door ring "That must be Dick!", said Marta "You're not going anywhere boy, stay here, understood?", said Héctor firmly Ricky looked down, like ashamed. Héctor let him down gently and walked towards the front door. Dick was waiting outside when he saw the door open, the figure of the man that was opening the door almost makes his jaw drop to the ground. "Oh my god!" he exclaimed "Wassup Dick?!", said the big man with his mighty voice "Is it you, Héctor?!" "Yes Dick, it's me" "What happened to you?!" "Well it's a long story!", Héctor walked towards Dick, he was taller, wider, heavier and more muscled, and made him look like a twink. Dick walked back as Héctor spoke "Remember when you adviced my sister to marry a sports guy instead of a lab rat, well turns out that thanks to his brain, the lab rat, became stronger than the sportsman", said Héctor as he playfully pushed with his hand on Dick's chest several times, making the smaller man tumble in his feet and walk back. "OK, I mean, you know I never really had any problem with you, we're pals right?", Dick was shaking like a leaf, he'd never seen muscles like those in a man. "Oh yeah! We're pals, of course, let me give you a big hug pal", Héctor grabbed Dick in a bear hug and pressed hard until Dick's ribs squealed loudly, "You're like a brother to me!" he said and he pressed some more, he smiled then let Dick free, the man was still shaking and trying to catch his breath again. "My pal!" Héctor said and smiled, then punched playfully at Dick's shoulder, with his enormous arm the punch was so powerful that Dick spun in place like three times, Héctor had to stop him and catch him. Héctor was smiling, "Hey! I've never checked out your bike pal, you got a great ride!", the big man got close to Dick's motorcycle, he examined it, then crouched and picked it up with one of his hands, it was a big solid harley-davidson, "This is a real harley uh... I think it'd look better with some minor modifications", he said that and grabbed the center axis of the bike, then bent it like it was cardboard into a shape that made the bike useless. "Hey! What are you doing to my bike!!", shouted Dick. "Don't you like it better this way? Oh! Come on! You're not funny, I thought we were friends!", Héctor said, "it's boring I'll give it back to you", then threw the bike over Dick, the thing weighed easily a quarter ton, and the brother-in-law fell on the ground under its weight. "What's the matter Dick, I thought you were quite strong!", said Héctor and picked up the motorcycle again with a single hand, then threw it away like it was a shallow film prop. "Let me help you up", and then grabbed Dick by his trouser's belt and let him stand. Dick tried to fight him and threw a punch at Héctor's face but the big man grabbed his fist and gripped powerfully, Dick screamed in pain and went to his knees. Héctor grabbed his belt again and held him up like a foot over the ground. "From now on, Dick, I don't want to see you anywhere near Ricky, I think it's quite clear that I can snap you in two like a twig so you'd better do as I say", said Héctor very close to Dick's face. He let Dick stand and the man didn't say a word, he just ran away like he'd seen a ghost. "I don't want this in front of my house", said the big man and picked up the remains of the motorcycle again, taking it to a trash container nearby. As Héctor entered his home Marta and Ricky were waiting for him, "Well, guess you won't be seeing uncle Dick around here very often any more", said Héctor Marta walked to him and grabbed a hold of his enormous shoulders and chest, layed her head on his thick torso. "You didn't hurt him honey, did you?", she asked "No sweety, just a little bit of perssuasion, only that", Héctor said as he flexed all the muscles in his massive body for her to feel them, then relaxed and cuddled his wife. "Ok then, guess we're going to spend our night studying, aren't we?" Héctor said to Ricky, walked towards him and put a solid hand in his shoulder "get your math books and everything you have on the table, your dad is going to help you study". "Oh no, really?", asked Ricky "You don't want me to force you, right? Come on! you need a few lessons!", replied Héctor gently pushing his kid. Seeing that there was nothing he could do to stop his dad, Ricky finally grabbed his school books and put them on the table, the young man sat and his dad took a seat next to him, as Héctor put his huge butt over the chair it squealled badly under his massive weight, then ordered Ricky to write down some equations and problems. Even when they were sitting the hugeness of his dad made Ricky feel intimidated, Héctor sat taller than him so he had to look up while the large man spoke. He contemplated how his father layed the weight of his massive arms on the table making the wood yawp, ocassionally bringing one hand to the sheet of paper Ricky was working on to point some mistake or explain a particular issue. As minutes were passing by Ricky realized it was quite cool to have his dad explain math to him and that it wasn't hard at all. Héctor was very encouraging pointing every mistake but also congratulating and complimenting when things were well done. And the big dad was quite physical at that, giving him nice cuddles and snuggles with "that's my boy!" expressions that conforted him and made him feel good. So much they've spent almost three hours together. "Well son, we've done a hell of an advance today, you'll be catching up and improving your grades in no time", Héctor assured his son. "Thanks dad, it's actually been nice, to be able to solve all these problems, I didn't think it was this easy" "Ok", Héctor said completely statisfied and smiling, "tomorrow, mom is going to help you with history and literature", he stood up and left giving Ricky a gentle pat in the shoulder. The following day, Héctor and Marta walked down from their bedroom upstairs, the big man was carrying his wife in one of his huge arms, she was sitting comfortably in her husband's forearm, grabbing his large chest. They had a rough sex night, Héctor fucked her about 9 times, and he wasn't even tired, he was a sex machine. She had so much cum inside of her she was worried she might get pregnant, but at the same time she was extremely pleased with being fucked by her man's enormous cock. Héctor took her to the kitchen and genly let her stand on the ground, they began to prepare breakfast. After a while Marta needed to reach for a jar that was too high up in the cupboard, "Honey would you grab that one for me?", she asked her big husband. "I can help you grab it..." said Hector and instead of grabbing the jar that was practically in front of his face, he picked his wife up. She giggled surprised by her man's new display of power and grabbed the jar. Héctor put Marta down and she spent a few seconds smiling and admiring his massive torso, she put her hands in his huge pectoral and Héctor made a little pec dance for her, "Wow!" Marta screamed when Ricky came into the kitchen as they were in the middle of it and the couple separated. "Morning Ricky, you done good yesterday, you see I always said you were a smart kid!", the huge dad said. Marta had trouble unscrewing the cap of the jar again, Ricky saw this and offered help. Ricky grabbed the jar and tried with all his might, but moments passed and he was unable to open it, Héctor grinned and looked down at his kid. He stroke his back shooking him a little and extended his huge hand to him "Let your big daddy do that, ok?", boomed the huge fella. Ricky put the jar on Héctor's hand and the big man unscrew it with a flick of his wrist, no effort needed. "Here you are sweety, now I remember I had put the cap yesterday, that's why you couldn't open it, sorry", Héctor explained them as he handed the jar to Marta. "Hey, don't you smell something?", asked Marta. "No, what?", Ricky replied fast "Yes honey, it's true I do smell something", said Héctor and looked down on his son fiercely. "It's like... weed?", Marta suggested. "That's what it seems", said Héctor as he got close to his son "You're crazy, I don't have any weed!", Ricky replied Héctor got his nose close to Ricky, "You do smell like you had been smoking hemp", the big dad grabbed his son's upper arm, "how many times do I have to tell you we don't want that, if you were 18 fine, get your own house and do whatever you want but as long as you live here and you're underage you have to go by my rules, and that's no weed in this house!", Héctor was firm but very calm when he said this. "I'm sorry but I'll have to register your room, I told you a hundred times", the big man went inside his son's room, and checked it out, he picked up the bed like it was made out of cardboard, Ricky had a huge TV, and a computer, he had a trunk full of old childhood toys, everything was picked up opened up and checked by Héctor. The only place left was the wardrobe, Héctor tried to open it and to his surprise it was locked. "Hey, why is this locked?", the huge dad asked "Oh well I don't know...", mumbled Ricky "Do you have the key?" "Umm.. I don't know... I think I've lost it" "Oh yeah, and how do you dress up every day?", Héctor was getting quite upset already "Oh well, let me check", Ricky checked his pockets as if he was looking for the key, but he had no intention "You're not going to give it to me right? Fine!", Héctor punched the wardrobe door lighly and made a huge hole in it, then ripped the little doors off like they were paper. "Hey! you can't do that!", yelled Ricky "Oh no? Of course I can, this is my house and I do anything I want", replied the enormous man with a voice that seemed twice as deep and powerful because of anger. Héctor checked the clothes until he found something suspicious in a pocket, he pulled it out and it was a small plastic bag full of weed, he put it in front of his son's face "And what is this then? herbal medicine? I doubt so", and the father walked to the nearby bathroom and flushed the weed down the toilet. "Hey! What are you doing! You have no idea how much it costs", said Ricky as his dad returned to the wardrobe. Héctor grabbed a hold of Ricky and picked him up a brief instant then refrained and put him back in the ground, "Is this what uncle Dick gives you money for, uh?", he boomed at his kid. "I'm glad you won't be able to afford more!", he added. Ricky was furious and punched at his dad's with all his might, Héctors bulky chest didn't even budge as he looked at his son, then the big man took a baseball bat from the wardrobe and grabbed and end with each hand, bringing it in front of his son's face. Ricky kept complaining when Héctor said, "Seems you don't quite understand who is in charge now", then split the bat in two with a loud crack, leaving his son speechless. The week went by and Ricky watched his step, he understood now Héctor was serious, and there was not much he could do. The big dad missed work and decided to stay home and recover lost time with his son. When ocassionaly Ricky would complain about some task, he'd just give him a severe look, slight grab or something and that was enough. Once Marta told him to read a few pages from a book and Ricky complained, he tried to stand up from his chair and when he was just about to leave Héctor gently put his heavy hand in his shoulder, the kid suddenly found himself unable to lift his body because when he tried he bumped into his dad's hand that was firm as steel. Most of the time the huge father didn't even need to waste any breath to discipline his son now. When the weekend came, Héctor suggested Ricky to spend saturday doing some more catch up for school, specially with math and physics. When Ricky refused Héctor challenged him to a basketball match in their front yard, if the father won they'd study all day if the son won, he'd let him do anything he wanted, including going out for a beer. Ricky accepted but a few minutes after they started playing he realized it wasn't a good idea, his dad's physical superiority was so overwhelming that he couldn't score at all. Héctor was incredibly fast, he didn't seem to get tired, he handled the ball like a pro and was so tall that the ring was easily within his reach, so the big dad kept scoring and scoring while Ricky could barely take the ball off his dad's hands in seldom ocassions, for his dad to recover it almost instantly. Ricky was persistant and they played for about an hour until he was exhausted. Héctor on the other hand wasn't even breathing hard. The big dad won with 164 points to zero and as Ricky was trying to catch his breath, he kept chuckling at his son and trying to cheer him up and convince him that math homework could be also fun. On sunday Ricky got Héctor to allow him to go to his rugby training, Héctor wasn't very happy with that and told him he was going to talk to his coach about training on sunday. At the school gym Ricky was doing benchpresses with an 80kg (170 lbs) weight, the other kids were also training at the gym while some others were running in the field. As he was forcing his arms up he saw the other boys look at the door. He looked as well and saw a huge man standing and coming towards him. It was Héctor, as the young men trained they couldn't help follow the big man's figure with their eyes. The huge dad was wearing tight short pants and a tight t-shirt, together with some running shoes so everyone would see he was also an athelete. Before he reached Ricky's bench the kids thought he was a new trainer or something. As he approched his son he said "Hey! lifting big son? I'm proud of having a strong kid!" Héctor grinned "How about a little more weight?", he was in a playful mood so he put the tip of his finger over the bar and pushed down a little, that immediately added like a 100kg (220 lbs) to the weight his son was lifting. Of course Ricky couldn't handle it and as the weight was going to fall on his ribcage Héctor quickly picked it up with his hand. The huge guy laughed as he toyed around with this weight that was almost a joke for his powerful arm. He put the weight back in the bench, "Are you ok son? I didn't mean to hurt you just play a harmful joke", he said between chuckles as Ricky sat up. "Dad, what are you doing here?" "I wanted to give you a surprise" "It is! You're embarrassing me in front of the other boys!" As Ricky recovered from the work out Héctor replied "Oh come on! you call this embarrassing?!" and he made a most muscular pose, flexing all his tremendously huge muscles, everyone in the gym looked at him knowing that they'd never get to be that big, he laughed and then asked "So, where is this coach of yours?" "I think, he's at his office", said Ricky and pointed at a place behind him. "Ok, thank you son, take care, don't overtrain!", said Héctor with a manly pat in his son's shoulder. Then he walked to Mr. Trachine's office. Trachine was doing some paperwork as he heard something heavy knock his office door. The door was translucid and he could see a big shadow behind. "Yeah, who is it?" The deep voice of Hector replied "Mr. Trachine, I'm Hector, Ricky's father, mind if we talk for a minute?" "Oh yeah, you know, I'm very busy could you wait a few moments?", the coach screamed "Ok", replied Héctor, but he wasn't very happy with that, after the way this man had treated him, for christ's sake, he was now the strongest man on earth, he wasn't going to take that kind of treatment from a stupid high school coach. The door seemed to be locked and he still decided to be polite and wait, he stood for about 12 minutes when he knocked again, "What part of I'm busy you didn't understand, you moron?!", the coach screamed at the door. That was it, Héctor pushed the door open and without noticing he'd ripped it off its hinges and was holding it in his hand, he threw it to a side. "Holy crap!", said the coach as he saw the big man coming towards him, "Are you Ricky's father? I hadn't imagined you like that..." "Well, yes, I am. And you know what", said Héctor in a sever tone as he stood right in front of Trachine, "don't think I forgot everything you said to me on the phone" then grabbed the older man from his shirt and picked him up slightly. Mr Trachine was 50, he was quite built and it was for sure he'd had a hell of a body at younger age. The coach was speechless, now he was really busted. "It.. it it's ok Mr, what,... wh.. whateev...ev. ever you ss.sssa say", the coach replied with difficulty "Haha now you stutter?", replied Héctor while smiling, "you didn't stutter last week when you treated me so bad, uh? Guess you can't stand up to a big fella...", the huge man added in a booming voice. "But I'm not here because of that, I don't really care what you say" continued Héctor, "I want to talk about Ricky and about he not coming to your sunday training sessions" "Oh, don't wo.. worry Mr, I was go.. going to cancel them be.. because most parents complained", Mr Trachine was still shaking from being in front of that big angry man. "You know Mr Trachine, I do want my kid to be a powerful athlete, as you see I'm a very strong athlete as well", the huge dad made a double biceps pose and the coach open his eyes wide in amazement. "Only I also want him to stimulate his intelligence so he's not only brawns but also brain, hope you understand that". "Oh y... yes, I to...totally agree" "Ok then, have a nice afternoon sir, I have to leave", said Héctor and extended his right hand for a shake. Mr Trachine took it and Héctor gave him the grip of his life, so much you could hear the cracking and the coach went weak on the knees, the big dad smiled, relishing that what was for him such an insignificant amount of pressure was causing so much pain in this man. Then he let go, hopefully it was just a badly sore hand, nothing broken "I'll leave you to keep working", Héctor said as the coach massaged and shook his hand trying to relieve the pain, no way he'd able to grab a pen with that hand for the rest of the day. The big dad just left while grinning, the coach contemplated his gigantic muscled back and powerful round butt as he left, Héctor thought he'd been a little mean but the guy had it coming without a doubt. That night the family was home again, dinner was ready and Héctor sat on the kitchen table with his enormous plate of food. He ate like five men now but didn't have to worry about getting fat, all the food seemed to go into his huge muscles. As he was about to start eating his huge serving, Marta sat next to him, and Ricky grabbed his plate and was carrying it in front of the TV in the living room, when Héctor saw this he reached with his massive arm for Ricky's trouser belt and grabbed it, dragged his son playfully close to him. "Hey! Why don't you come and eat here with us, son, like a regular family?", he said to his kid. How to refuse? thought Ricky and sat down in front of his big dad. "Hey dad! are you going to eat all that?!" "Yes boy, I got to feed these big guns buddy!", said the father as he bent his arms and showed them to Ricky, the t-shirt sleeves almost bursting with the muscle mass. Ricky looked under the table at his dad's legs, "without mentioning those tremendous legs", he thought to himself. "And tell me, how was your day son?", Héctor asked "Oh well, you know I just spent the whole day working out, oh and... what did you say to the coach, he's been really weird with me, he used to treat me like shit and now he was so gentle and considerate, asking me if I was ok, offering help with the weighs, training advice, that felt kinda awkward" "Haha really?! Well I'll tell you why! That idiot is treating you very carefully because he's afraid I might get angry and go snap him like a twig! That's why! I gave him a few little demonstrations of what I'm capable of and I think he got the point. If you ever have any problem with him just let me know and I'll take care. I don't even need to see him in person, I bet just the sound of my voice on the phone can make him pee his pants!", said the super-dad between chuckles. The following day it was a holiday so the family woke up late in the morning. Héctor opened up the fridge to grab something to eat, "Hey! What happened, the fridge is empty!", said the huge man. "It's natural honey", commented Marta as she walked behind her large husband and caressed his gargantuan back, "you eat a lot more now and we run out of food much faster" "Hehe, that's true, guess that's a little price to pay for all the advantages being like this brings", said Héctor as he turned around and picked her up, making her sit in his meaty forearm. "No problem then! Let's go to the supermarket!", the big man added and headed for the garage with her in his hand. "Hey Ricky, we're going to the supermarket, wanna come?", Héctor asked his son. Ricky accepted, his father was surprised at the way his son's attitude was changing, as he became more and more self-confident his son became more and more humble. Fortunately, Héctor had a big 4x4 van, he wouldn't have fit in a smaller car and unlike a 4x4, a regular car would collapse under his weight. Despite this he felt pretty tight inside when he got in. Marta and Ricky got in as well and they left. The supermarket was a 30 minute drive, when they were half way Héctor saw a cow in the middle of the road, in order not to crash against it, he stopped quite abruptly. A car that was behind them was caught in distraction and crashed on Héctor's van.The big dad's 4x4 was so tough it didn't get a scratch, but the front of the other man's car was quite damaged. The guy was upset and got out of his vehicle, he walked to the driver's seat of the 4x4 cursing and insulting, "I'll kill you motherfucker, why don't you watch out, I'll break your damn van you moron!", said the man and kicked Héctor's car. The van had one-side glasses so the guy didn't get to see Héctor and kept hitting and punching his van. Then the front door was open and the huge dad came out, the man was so into his thing he didn't realize, until a heavy hand grabbed his chest and shoved him away with tremendous force. "Holly crap!", the guy said as he looked at Héctor's massive frame. Next to him, the man looked like a miniature, the big dad stood in front of the guy and began to move forward, the guy retreated and ran into his car and drove away fast. Héctor just giggled and returned to his van, he was already getting used to these kind of reactions. But the cow was still there, and they needed to get going so the huge dad grabbed the animal and held it up, walking it inside the fields far from the road and gently putting it on the ground. They drove just a few minutes more when they had a flat tire, Héctor stopped the car and got out "Give me a hand son!", he ordered Ricky who got out almost immediately. "You're going to get the spare in place, kid", the dad said. Héctor opened the back and Ricky wondered out loud "What happened with the cricket?" "Cricket? hehe, why would I need that", Héctor replied looking down on his big muscled physique and handed the spare to Ricky, "I pick up the van and you change the tire, deal?", the big man said then put a hand under the back of the van and picked it up very high like it was weighless. Marta felt the van move and she screamed "Hey! What's going on?!" "Oh sorry sweety, I'm picking up the van that's all", boomed Héctor loudly at her. In a few moments the tire was replaced and the big dad put the van back on the ground with care and they could resume their brief journey. When the family arrived at the supermarket, they couldn't find a parking spot for their van, the lot was full, Héctor drove around countless times until they were exhausted and they almost decided to go back home, until the dad caught a glimpse of an old heavy truck that was very oddly parked, instead of taking up just its spot, the truck was taking up almost two places unnecessarily. Héctor said "bingo!", he stopped the van next to it, got out and walked to the truck. He simply grabbed under it and lifted it up completely, then easily gave a few steps towards the appropriate spot and gently put it down. He dusted off his hands as he exclaimed "there we go!", then parked his van in the now free place. Marta and Ricky were mezermerized, as Héctor saw their faces he asked "Impressed?! that was very easy!", it was true because he wasn't even breathing hard. After a few hours in the supermarket, they'd filled three carts, two of them were full of food for Héctor, for whom every package seemed small and that made him keep adding and adding stuff to the cart, they also had consider that now the big dad's clothes were a lot bigger, so they used more laundry powder, more food also meant more dish washing, therefore more detergent, a bigger body meant more deodorant, more lotion, more soap, bigger feet more feet powder, and so on. They also had to replace stuff he'd unadvertently broken in the few days he wasn't controlling his strength completely, like 6 glasses, about 20 forks and knives he'd bent over, and a desk lamp he'd twisted to unrecognizable shape. Looking down on the incredibly stuffed carts, Héctor realized there was nowhere to put all that food. "I guess we're going to need a new fridge honey, what do you think?", the big man suggested "Definitely, I've been oggling one that will be perfect for us now in the home appliances section, what do you think?" "Ok sweety, go ahead, go there and pick one for me, I'll go in a few minutes, I still need some shaving cream and... ", replied Héctor but Marta was already gone, she loved buying. When she arrived she talked to the salesman and took him to the chosen fridge, the thing was fucking huge, so much it looked industrial, and costed like 6000 dollars. Héctor's family didn't have any money issues since the reasearch company's paycheck was very generous. "Do you take platinum visa?", asked Marta "Of course, ma'm", said the salesman as he took the card. "How are you going to transport it?", the guy asked pointing at the fridge. "We have a transport service but you'll have to wait for about a week, we've too many deliveries lately, I apologize" "Oh, don't worry, we have a big van, I think we can put it on top no problem" "Ok, I'll send you the transport men to put them on your van for you" "Thanks! that's so considerate of you" Then two big guys wearing overalls appeared, each around 1,85m (6'1") and weighing easily 90kg (200 lbs) "Hi ma'm, so this is your fridge?", they pointed at a smaller one that was next to the one Marta chose "No, that one is", she corrected "Oh crap!" said one of the men Each man took a side of the big thing and pulled as hard as they could, it was impossible for them to lift it, they could barely drag it a few inches and they were quickly exhausted. "Oh, we're sorry we might need some extra help or a fork lift", said one of the guys as he recovered his breath and wiped his moisty forehead with his hand. "That's not necessary, don't worry, my hubbie is going to move it" "Your what? your husband? Ma'm we've been doing this for years, there's no fucking person who can move that, not even three guys", said one of the men as they looked at each other and laughed. "You haven't seen my husband... oh, here he is", she said as Héctor seemed to appear from behind some crates "So honey, did you choose one already?", asked the huge man. The transport guys stopped laughing and contemplated Héctor, then they looked at each other to check if they were having visions. "Oh my..." one of the guys let out Ignoring them, Marta replied "Yes love, I already bought that one" and pointed at the huge fridge with his right hand as she was grabbing Héctor's big arm with his left. "Good choice sweet, this one will be just perfect!" said the big dad as he checked it out up close. Then two transport guys thought maybe with the large man's help they'd be able to drag it to the van so each one of them grabbed a side "Ok Sir, will you help us carry it? let's push at the count of three!", said one of the guys as he prepared. Héctor just laughed, put his hands firmly on each side and lifted up the huge fridge as if it was just empty cardboard. He then hefted the big thing over his massive shoulder using his hand to keep it in balance and carried it all the way to the van. "oh my god!" said the men, "Sir, you're going to put us out of business with that strength" Héctor just laughed at the smaller men and continued carrying the fridge effortlessly. Marta walked along and all the way she encouraged his husband "Just a little more, honey, we're almost there, hang on!", repeatedly. "haha" laughed Héctor, then stopped, "Sweety, there's no need for that" he said between chuckles "I could keep this in my shoulder for a whole day without even feeling tired at all" he said and took the fridge with his free arm and held the enormous thing over his head, balanced in one of his hands, "see?". Both Marta and the men wowed. Héctor continued carrying the fridge to the van, once there he put it easily on top "Sir, need some rope to tie it to your car", asked one of the transport guys "Mmm, not really, do you think rope will keep this safe in place? I have something better!", then the big man opened the back of the car and took two crowbars. The fidge had a few openings in the back designed to put a thick rope for transportation, Héctor put the crowbars instead and used them to secure the fridge to the car structure, bending them easily with his mighty arms. "Hey, we forgot about Ricky, where is he?", asked Marta "Oh, I left him at the exit watching over the carts", replied Héctor, "He shoud be here by now, this is odd, I'll go check". The big man walked to where he'd left his son. When he arrived at where his son was supposed to be, he wasn't, the carts were unattended, Héctor worried and began to walk fast around the whole supermarket. After a few instants he saw his son was in an abandoned spot behind the mall, together with two guys, one of the guys was threatening him with a knife and the other was checking his pockets. Ricky saw his dad's huge figure in the distance, Héctor made a "keep quiet" gesture and walked behind the guy with the knife. He grabbed the guy's hand and gripped powerfully, while at the same time put his large arm around his neck. The guy screamed in pain and threw the knife to the ground. Then Héctor punched him in the head and he fell unconcious. The other guy took some time to notice what happened and, not threatened by the knife anymore, Ricky tried to get rid of him, pushing him, but the guy was quite big. Héctor stood in front of the other guy who tried to punch him in the belly, but without budging the super man's muscular stomach, the guy then pulled out a gun and shot at Héctor's chest, but the bullets just bounced off, the big dad quickly took the weapon off the thieve's hand and twisted it in his palm like it was butter, then threw it on the ground. He picked up the burglar and held it up over his head. He grabbed the two guys, and carried them to a trash container, put them in and twisted the cover of the container so they wouldn't be able to open anytime soon. In the distance, Marta had arrived and was watching everything. She got close to his son who was kind of shocked and conforted him. As Héctor returned, he could see his son now more than happy. "Dad, that was fantastic, I'm so proud to be your son!" "I love you son, and I won't let anything happen to you", said Héctor as he hugged his son big. Then he stood in front of Marta and Ricky and hit a double biceps pose, the said in assured tone "Guess from now on you can feel very safe while I'm around!".

Hey guys, longtime lurker, first time poster (going back to the old forum days). Finally took the plunge and took a cut at fleshing out one of my story ideas. I hope you enjoy! —————— Today was the day. The day where he could finally show everyone what he had been working on. The day where he could finally show himself what he had been working on. For weeks, months, gosh was it years? he had devoted his life to one thing, growth. All leading up to today, his first competition. The first time he can show off the fruits of his labor to the world. — It all started innocently enough. He wanted to lose that little gut he developed in his early twenties, so he joined the gym around the corner from his apartment. He picked the place without much thought, absentmindedly noticing a flyer in their window offering free personal training with new signups. Sounds too good to be true, he thought. There’s gotta be a catch… Nevertheless, he soon found himself in the brightly-lit lobby of the facility. The chipper attendant at the desk lit up excited to spark up a conversation. He was the epitome of a gym bunny. Well built, but not to some of the extremes some guys take it these days. With ‘supps’ and all other worlds of drugs and enhancements there’s just so many guys who take it too far. Fumbling around in their bulky bodies on an endless quest to get 'swole.’ Don’t they know that it will never be enough? They’ll just keep growing and growing regardless of the impact it has on themselves, their lives, their… He shakes his head to break up his train of thought. The attendant steps out from behind the desk to greet him, which thankfully allows him to refocus. “Hi, I’m Nick, what brings you in today?” he says while extending his hand. Grasping the attendant’s hand and following it up he notices how defined his arms are. He continues that path checking out the rest of his body. His deeply cut yellow stringer top and black short-shorts don’t leave much to the imagination. Perky, defined pecs leading down to the top row of a defined 6-pack popping out right above the bottom of the stringer’s neck hole, if you can even call it that. His visage was completed by a pair of firm thighs and calves. Taking him in as a whole you notice the slight tinge of a tasteful tan, he’s damn-near perfect. Not too much, not too little. What those douchebros on Insta would likely call “aesthetics.” Snapping out of it for the second time since entering the gym, he realizes that he has been standing there staring for an uncomfortable amount of time. “Sorry, sometimes I get a little lost in my head,” he fumbles, “I guess… I want to look like you,” he continues letting out a nervous laugh. “Haha, if I had a nickel for everyone that comes in here saying that lately, I could practically own this place by now,” Nick replies. His carefree reply lightens up the awkwardness to my relief. “Speaking of, why don’t I show you around?” “Sure, I’m Chet by the way.” Nick guides him around showing him the various amenities of the facility while they make small talk about Chet’s goals. He opened up, explaining that he really has never put much thought into his physical fitness outside of required gym classes in school. He was average, average height, average weight, average grades, average job… he wanted to make a change and he thought investing in his body would be a good step. “I can totally relate, you sound a lot like me before I started here a few weeks ago” Nick replied. He paused for a moment, did he say a few weeks ago? but he was again distracted. This time by the sight of Nick’s cute firm bum as he quickly spins around to face him. “Our personal training program is really great,” Nick declares with his hands firmly on his hips, bunching up his stringer to show a little peek of his cut adonis belt. “So what do you think?” “Huh?…” he stammers. Nick elaborated, “Are you going to join?” “Oh sure, I mean it all sounds great and I can see this place helps produce some great results” gesturing at Nick’s body “but, I do have some questions.” “Fire away! I aim to please.” He thinks back to Nick’s previous comment. Is it really possible that he’s built up this perfect body in just a few weeks? No, that’s crazy, he must have misunderstood. To save himself from embarrassment he thinks of a more benign question to start “So when should I start?” “How about right now?” Nick answers. He’s thrown off guard from that reply “Oh, uh wow, that’s really quick… I…” he stutters “I don’t even have the right clothes or…” “Don’t worry, we can provide all that,” Nick says as he grabs a matching stringer and shorts from behind the front desk. “Oh, I don’t think I can wear that…” he replies with anxiety washing over him thinking of what his pasty slightly chubby body would look like in such a revealing outfit like the one this young adonis is wearing. “Don’t worry Chet, no one will judge you here, besides one of the stipulations of the personal training program is that we must get you started right away. We find that people are more honest off the cuff.” Nick again offers the clothing and gestures to the locker room. Still uneasy, he takes the clothes and gets changed. He avoided any mirrors while walking out, not wanting to see what his body looked like. He walks back up to Nick displaying his best awkward shrug. Nick flashed him a smile “You look great buddy! A lot better than I did the first time I put those clothes on for sure.” Nick puffed his cheeks out at the end of his sentence to make his point, before they sucked back into his chiseled face. Okay, this is getting weird he’s gotta ask him, he thinks. Is he really to believe that Nick went from tubby to this just by working out here for a few weeks? He starts “Hey Nick, I gotta ask,” but just then, he catches a glimpse of himself in one of the mirrored columns of the gym, the anxiety builds up in him again. He changes his question on the fly, looking for comfort in the only person he knows so far, “will you be my personal trainer?” a nervous smile creeps onto his face. “Haha, no, we’ll pair you up with someone with a lot more knowledge and experience than myself.” His smile dissipates. “Speaking of, let’s get you set up with a consultation to get you started!” Nick leads him down a hallway with 5 or 6 doors, they stop midway. CONSULTATION ROOM #3. Nick opens the door to lead him in. He stops in the door frame, “wait, this is all going so fast, isn’t there some paperwork or something I should be filling out first?” “Don’t worry, everything will be taken care of in time, just take a seat and your trainer will be in shortly.” He turns back. The room is empty aside from a chair in the center near the far wall. He sits and waits, the strange thought of Nick’s quick results still festering in his head. — The door begins to open and he looks up. As it starts to reveal the man that is walking in, presumably his trainer, his jaw drops further and further at the sight he is seeing. The arm pushing the door open is larger than any he has ever seen and lean enough to see every fiber twitch even with the simple movement of opening the lightweight door. More is revealed as the motion of the door and the man continues, delts like bowling balls, a wide bloated chest, quads the size of cannons, and a thick quilted midsection all coated in a network of thick veins. The man had to angle himself sideways to complete his entrance to the room due to his wide back. Closing the door behind him he walks, or more accurately waddles, over to face Chet, towering over him in his seated position. Though, truthfully even if he was standing the man would likely still tower over him. He was wearing the same stringer and shorts leaving most of his obscene body on display. He was a human anatomy chart taken to the extreme. Muscles bumping and fighting for space, surely limiting his range of motion. His skin looked like it was shrink wrapped to his body with a dark tan, much more so than Nick’s, which served to exaggerate his already deep cuts and pulsing veins. Sitting there in matching clothing, he thought about the ridiculous disparity between his body and the man’s. Shame and anxiety started to return, but this time he easily dismissed it as his thoughts of the man soured. He is too much. He’s taken a beautiful thing and pushed it too far. He’d much rather have his pudgy body than this walking, ahem, waddling, meat parade. “Chet” the man’s voice booms. “The name’s Alan. I’m the owner of this gym and I’ll personally be in charge of your training.” “Based on your intake assessment, I think there is a lot of potential in you that I will develop.” Intake assessment? He doesn’t have any recollection of doing anything of the sort. He’s hesitant to do anything this man says, but is also intimidated by his presence, so he shyly nods along. “I’m willing to personally take you under my wing, but that comes with some stipulations. One, you must do everything I say. I will take full control of your training plan, diet, everything. Two, you must make every effort to shield yourself from the sight of your body during the program.” With that he pulls out some baggy sweat pants and hoodies. “I think we’ll start you with a large.” “I know this probably sounds like a strange requirement, but we only develop clients here who are fully committed and I don’t want any outside factors influencing your progress. You can admire your physique when we’ve completed your prescribed program.” “Finally three, your training starts now.” With that last sentence he stops and stares at Chet with a stern look. His large chest heaving up and down heavily. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Alan booms. He takes the hint and puts on the sweats. “Oh and Chet, I am deadly serious about number two,” he tenses his muscles, they explode with size letting out a deep GRRRR, “got it?” He had never been more terrified in his life. What had he gotten himself into? What is this man going to do with him? Alan heads to the door as he follows. I’ll just get through this one session as to not tick off this brute. He gulps thinking of what lies ahead. He’s never once stepped foot in a gym before and any hopes of this guy starting him off easy are straight out the window. Alan hands him a protein shake and directs him to the floor. The workout is brutal going around from machine to machine with Alan instructing him how to use them and putting him through grueling sets. By the end he is exhausted and his hoodie is drenched in sweat. Alan hands him another post-workout protein shake. “Drink up. Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.” We’ll see about that, he thinks. On the short walk home he ponders the events at the gym while trying to ignore the soreness of his body. Especially his legs. He takes a look at his phone, he had been there for just over 4 hours. Not that he would have known since he can’t recall a single clock in the building. He arrives back at his apartment and makes a b-line for the bathroom so he can get out of these sweaty clothes and clean himself up. He turns the hot water on in his shower and strips the drenched clothing off. In the process he unconsciously avoids looking at his body with Alan’s voice and powerful muscles echoing in his head. Ha, that’s silly, he thinks, that guy is crazy. There’s no way I’m following his rules, let alone stepping foot back in that place to begin with. He smirks and starts to turn towards the mirror, but something stops him before he makes it. He thinks to look down, but similarly feels stuck. He can’t put his finger on it, but it’s like something is physically keeping him from doing so. God this day… am I the crazy one now? I just need to relax. He steps into the shower, the warm water soothing his tired body. After the shower he slips into a robe and collapses onto his bed out of exhaustion. — The next day he awakes feeling downright amazing. Wow, thought I would have been more sore after a workout like that, he thinks. Maybe I will go back to that gym… Wait, no, that was insane, I’m not going back, his mind in quick disagreement with itself. Just then, he hears a loud pounding at his apartment door and jumps out of bed to answer. The door opens and to his surprise, it’s Alan in all his imposing glory. “Morning Chet, here, put these on.” Alan commands handing him another identical set of sweats. “We got work to do, both here and at the gym. Step aside.” With that, a team of people from the gym burst in, some carrying boxes in and some with bags to carry stuff out. “Woah woah, what’s going on here, how do you even know where I live?” he exclaimed. “I’ll ask you kindly to not raise your voice to me like that again,” Alan scorned “I knew exactly who you were the second you walked into my gym. As I explained, we only take on clients we know will commit and have potential, so to that end I have implemented a system at my gym to make sure that happens.” Alan’s ominous reply does noting to dissipate his feelings. He looks around at what everyone is doing, some appear to be restocking his kitchen with clean foods, proteins, and supplements, everything the gym-goer needs. A similar transition is happening in his bedroom, with his wardrobe being swapped with the requisite sweats. Another worker looks like he is removing all the mirrors. “I don’t understand, I don’t want this, I didn’t sign up for this,” he pleads. “Actually you did,” Alan replies showing him his tablet displaying an agreement with a signature that looked a lot like Chet’s. “What? I don’t remember signing this.” “Enough of this, get dressed, we have work to do. I won’t ask again,” a not-so-subtle flex of Alan’s bicep accentuating his point. He found himself following Alan back to the gym for another round of workouts. He didn’t feel like he had a choice. There was nothing he could do in this puny body of his. He resolved that his only option was to continue with the program, to what end that meant, he didn’t know, but hopefully it wasn’t an outcome similar to Alan’s. He observed Alan as he walked in front of him. His gargantuan thighs slicking past each other causing his bubble butt to pump along. His thick arms laid high on his inhuman lats. Both contributing to his wide stance, easily three times as wide as his own. His gait was reflected in his upper body as his arms swing widely in sync. What an ape, he thought. Once back inside the gym, Alan produces another protein shake for him and leads him back to the floor to start another grueling session. This time, he tries to not think about the predicament he has found himself in. He luckily finds it easy to lose himself in the workouts Alan has designed. The day is a blur of sets, shakes, and hydration. “Alright, now that’s a real day’s work,” Alan says to him, snapping him back to reality, “Go home, eat, and recover. You’ll find a schedule on your fridge that you will start following. See you tomorrow.” He walks outside to a low hanging sun. Gosh, what time is it? His phone display reads 6pm. He is stunned, this latest session was 10 hours long. How is that possible? “I guess yesterday was a light day to start,” he nervously laughs to himself. Arriving home he takes stock of the changes Alan has made to his apartment. Sure enough any reflective surface has been removed. He opened his dresser and closet to find nothing but sets of sweatpants and hoodies. Opening his fridge he found it stocked with pre-portioned meals. Finding some solace he at least is happy he doesn’t have to think about cooking while in the program. He spies the schedule Alan mentioned. On it are details of his meals, workouts, and to his dismay supplements. He looks to the right and sees them all lined up on his counter. He’s not happy about starting to take such things, but he knows he must. Alan will know if not. Curiously the workouts on his schedule don’t appear to have a firm start and end time, just generic things like Tuesday: Chest and Shoulders, Wednesday: Legs. Likely means he can expect more marathon sessions like he has already started. His workouts continue in the same fashion. He’s finding it easier and easier to get lost in his mind while working out. He’s actually kinda enjoying it despite all the circumstances surrounding it. The days begin to blend together with everything in his life so regimented. — It’s a few weeks later, he’s in the gym with Alan. Thursday, that means back and abdominal. He wonders what his abs look like, if he has them yet, if they look like Nick’s. That day with Nick seems so long ago. He sees him around the gym, but he’s so lost in his workouts, he doesn’t focus on much else then that while there. Alan appears to be pleased with his progress. “You’re doing great Chet, I knew you were built for this.” Alan’s approval fills him with joy as fucked up as that is. “So listen here, it’s time to take this to the next level.” With that Alan pulls out a syringe with a mystery substance in it. “What’s in that?” he asks. “That’s for me to know, it’s all part of the program. This isn’t a request.” He snaps into a hyper-focus, more than he has had in weeks. His mind races. He is not going to do this. He can’t believe he has gone this far already, with Alan controlling his life so completely. He’s already rearranged his whole life, starting taking all these supps and guzzling protein shakes, this is a step too far. He will not inject any sort of drugs in his body. With rebuilt force he blurts out “No! Absolutely not, this.. this is too far, I’ve already done so much for you. I will not.” Alan doesn’t seem to be surprised by his response. His lips curl up into a cheeky smirk. “Wow, I thought you were never going to say no,” he replies as he forcefully jabs the syringe into his arm, right through the hoodie fabric, and forces the mystery substance into his body. “What the…” is all he can start to muster as he feels the effects of whatever chemicals were in there. He feels a jolt of energy, but at the same time, he feels the world around him slipping away, first a blur, then completely gone. — Chet was giddy on the day of his first show. Not only because he was going to show off his hard work to the audience, but because Alan is finally going to allow him to see his body for the first time since he started his bodybuilding journey. He had made every effort to avoid spoiling this for himself and Alan by checking himself out. He knew this was so important. He had worked so hard for Alan to get here. Regardless of the baggy clothing that Alan and the gym provides, he knows there have been huge changes going on underneath and he can’t wait to finally see them. He checked all the boxes to prepare for this first showing like a true bodybuilder. Alan has had him on a cutting routine as of late to make sure his body is in the absolute best condition it can be to wow the judges. He’s also been running him through all the requisite poses and even booked him a spray tan like his own to accentuate his musculature. They check in at the hotel front desk where the competition is being held. With the key in hand, Alan hands it over to him with a bag as well. “Here, put this on when you get to the room. I will hang back here for a bit to really let you take yourself in.” Once in the room, the anticipation is killing him. He pulls the garment out of the bag that Alan handed him. To his surprise it is a pair of the brightest hot pink posers he has ever seen. He quickly slips them on, still avoiding checking out his legs as he doesn’t want to ruin the surprise at the last minute. With the posers in place he finishes disrobing. Standing in the entry of the room, he closes his eyes takes a deep breath before walking over to the full length mirror. He opens his eyes… oh… my… god… Is all that leaves his stunned mouth. Just as he finally takes sight of his insane body, he feels woozy and is struck by a flash of light which causes his head to fly back. — Where am I? you ask yourself. You’re staring at a ceiling that you don’t recognize as your own, but you can definitely feel yourself standing, not laying down. You can’t put your finger on it, but something about your stance feels off. You start to lower your head as you scan the room. You appear to be in a hotel room, but where? That thought is quickly interrupted as you look and realize you are not alone in the room. Across you see what must be the largest man you’ve ever seen in your life. His presence startles you, not expecting someone else, let lone someone as freaky as this guy. His expression looks to be one of bewilderment as well. You start “Hey, do you…” but trail off as the words are mimicked on the other man’s mouth. “What the,” you say as you raise your hand to your face, but to your astonishment the other man’s beefy arm raises up with it. You touch your face and it sinks in, the other man… is you. Your eyes go wide as you finally recognize the face in the mirror as your own. Of course it’s your face, you realize, but it’s taken on harder, more chiseled features, not to mention that it’s flanked with thick pulsing veins. You hold the arm out in front of you taking it in. It’s absolutely massive. It amazes you that you’re even able to move its mass at all. Your palm is rough and wide, veins snaking up the flip side leading up to your forearm, which looks like it could give your former legs a run for their money with its size. Your biceps were no less freaky easily out-measuring your head. You give your arm a tentative squeeze and see it jump to life. The thick vein splitting the head of your bicep pulsing with blood to feed your engorged muscle. Your arm is capped off with a delt the size of a medicine ball. It’s likely no less weight than one either, you think to yourself. You attempt to look down to continue your fevered assessment of the wild changes to your body, but quickly find that you can’t see anything over your puffed out pec shelf, your chin colliding with the cavernous crevice between them immediately upon looking down. You return to the mirror. For the first time really taking your whole body. Your skin is covered in a dark tan, the point of which seems to be to further accentuate your musculature. It looks so foreign, much like everything else, not just due to its complexion, but also due to the fact that it is so tightly sucked onto every crevice of your body. Your conditioning is to the point where you have to start questioning if your skin is even there, or if it’s just pure musculature showing through. Your head is perched on top of a set of traps that look like they’re close to touching your ears. You turn your head from side to side, feeling the way they restrict your movement. Your head looks comically small compared to every other part of your body, further highlighting the total growth encompassing every other muscle your body contained. You had already gotten a sense of the size of your pecs from what you could see in your limited range of sight, but you were not prepared to take them in fully. They dominated your upper body, wide and thick, reminiscent of the fluffy pillows on the hotel bed. Your nipples nearly out of sight as they point downward to the floor from the sheer mass contained in the muscles. Behind them, thick lats jut out, forcing your heavy arms to rest high on your body as they fight to occupy the same space as each other. Below your pecs you gaze upon your abs and obliques. Your midsection is a crazy amalgamation of cuts and bulges. Some of these muscles you swear you didn’t even know existed. Your 6-pack, or was it an 8-pack, no to your amazement you count a 10-pack, is blocky and deep. You could lose a finger, maybe even a hand in those cuts. Regardless of its thickness, your waist tapers down tightly, especially compared to the width of your upper body. Your adonis belt is thick enough to cast a shadow upon the top straps of the hot pink posers you have on as your only piece of clothing. You stop at the sight of the posers, for the first time really noticing them. Their bold coloring not having been enough to distract you from all the other changes in your body. What an embarrassing garment, why would you wear such a thing? Even from the front, you can feel the growth in your glutes and can see them jutting out ever so slightly underneath the straps of the posers. You stop to think if your new body would appear taller sitting down with these massive bubbles than standing up. Your quads may be in the running for the most ridiculous transformation. They are massive, the size of barrels, forcing your stance apart wildly as you feel them pressed up against each other firmly. Deep insertions give way to a sweep that goes on for days. Teardrop doesn’t even begin to describe their shape. Even if your quads weren’t keeping your legs from standing next to each other with ease you guess that your calves still would. Shaped like diamonds, you’d never seen anything like them. Your thick quads coupled with your tight waist and wide upper body give your whole body an unmistakable “X” shape. Everything feels so tight and not talking just about the posers pulled tight over your bum. Everything is tight with the mass packed onto your frame. You trace the network of thick, pulsing, veins crisscrossing muscle groups back up to your face as you finish your assessment. With everything taken in and made sense of as much as it can, you finally have the time to think. Your mind goes into overdrive. “No, no, no, what the hell is going on, this is insane, this is all too much!” you yell out to no one. Taking a step forward to begin pacing about the room nervously you immediately trip over yourself, not used to having to move your quads out of the way of each other to simply move. As you begin to move you feel bulky and awkward, muscles colliding with muscles, a warmth building between your quads as they rub past each other. Your heart is racing as you struggle to come to grips with the body you now apparently inhabit. This causes a vicious cycle as the blood coursing around your body only serves to pump up your already exaggerated muscles even more. You hold your arms up in front of you to examine them again, the sheer sight of them causing you to quickly lower them to your sides to get them out of your view. As if you could even hide away arms like this. You stop at the mirror again. This is not normal, you think. Humans are not supposed to look like this. How can they look like this? Can I even call myself human at this point? I’m more muscle than man. When your biceps outsize your head, it’s clear who runs the show. This body, it’s incomprehensible, it’s obscene, it’s grotesque, it’s disgusting, it’s exactly what you would never want for yourself. You’ve had enough. You can’t look at it anymore. You scan the room to find clothes to cover yourself up so you can try to think straight. You find a tent-like hoodie and pair of sweat pants discarded by the room’s entrance. You clumsily drape the hoodie over yourself, your bloated muscles keeping you from having the amount of range needed to slip it on easily. On the way down muscles jutting out constantly catching it up in its path. With great effort and squirming you finally get it on. How pathetic, you think to yourself. You throw the sweat pants on the floor and step into them, slowly pulling them up your legs. Widening your stance to allow them to slip between your quads. They need to be tied off at the top, otherwise there would be no way they could pull past your bloated quads and cinch tightly to your tiny waist. You look back up at the mirror to accomplish this since looking down is not an option. Your arms struggle to grab the strings at your waist, your biceps colliding with your thick pecs as you attempt the motion. You sigh at the realization that even though you’re covering yourself up, the bloated muscle mass is still there underneath continuing its assault on everything you do. Fumbling with the strings, you pause. The sweats trigger something in your mind. Memories of the gym, of Alan, begin to rush back in. You come to the realization that he is the cause of this. You’re angry at him, but also at yourself for letting this happen. All you wanted was to drop a few pounds, but instead you let yourself get taken in by this man. I had no choice, you think as you flash back to his imposing form and a further realization begins to take shape. Next to you now, he would look downright puny. This thought terrifies you as the memories continue to fill back in, all the way up to the day when Alan injected you and your world went dark. This final memory begins to cloud your thoughts. Oh no, it’s happening again, you think as the familiar blurriness begins to take shape before the inevitable darkness. You’re terrified of what will happen next. How big will you be next time? Will there be a next time? oh god… A cocky grin creeps back up on Chet’s face as the pants drop back to the floor. First try at a morph too. Saw the original of Nick by Hardtrainer01 and decided it fit the story well so I tried my hand at making it even freakier. Not sure if it's something I always want to do, but those neon pink posers are undeniable

Helping my muscle dad pipes (part 2) So… ya, what can I say? In a matter of minutes, my dad flexed his powerful muscles like I never seen it before, I jerked off to it, we both shoot waves of cum to his muscles and I finaly told him that I am gay… What a fucking mess! - So… here we are hã? - Well, ya son… - So… - … - We can pretend that this never happened if you want… - Damn it son, im the older one here, I should start this. From the beginning ok? - Ok… - You know I always been into sports right? Hell, even when I think about school time I always remember me doing push-ups and lifting chairs while the other kids were just playing around with cars and stuff - I believe dad, and you always been built as far as I remember, since I was born in fact - Exactly kid, growing my body always was important to me, long before you were born you know. At 17yo I was entering the gym for the first time. In 2 years I was already the biggest kid around. I will never forget when I turned 19yo and my arms were the same… - You mean… 19 inch biceps! - Yes son, 19 inch cannons! Some fat, got admit, was eating like a lion, all I wanted was to GROW. - That’s fucking amazing dad, had no idea - I was around 195 pounds that time, everyone called me the bull. Then I start having nutrition tips, got my first supplements, always lifting more and more. LAter i start working, I met your mom, then you came to our lifes, so many things happened. But my desire to become the biggest muscle guy around never went away… - Dad, what were your max stats? How huge? - Will never forget son, about 1 year before you born, 225! - No way!! - And this pipes exploded up to 21 inches!!! Dad flexes his big biceps again, staring at them. My god, they were about 19 inches now and already so round and freaky, I can’t even imagine them at 21!!! - Damn your body is fenomenal dad, but those arms are just surreal - Not only the size son, but the shape too. This fuckers always had insane peaks! - Yeah and they are like rocks! - Well you felt them kid - I sure did, it was… intense… - Ya… well you love muscles right? - Alot dad… I hope… well I hope its ok with you - Son I love my muscles so fucking much too. And knowing you love them too really makes me push myself extra hard - Oh man I hope you get as huge as you can dad, but you know, it really turns me on… - That’s ok, you are my son. You saw me cum to my muscles too. How more awkward can it be? - Well, that’s a good point - Come on grab this cannonball again! - Jesus dad, look at the difference in size between my hand and your peak!! - Growing everyday, and I want you to measure me daily, so we can make sure im maxing out my gains - I sure will! - So as you can see, im proud of my body at my age, but I´ve been bigger son, and I miss those days - I understand - And that’s why I decided, you know… - Roids… - Well, yes… Smart boy - Had to be dad, I mean, for the last 4 or 5 years you been very consistent on your stats, and all the sudden this last month you added very noticeable size, and just minutes ago when you posed… Man you are hulking out - Son I have no words, I can feel it 24/7 - How long already? - 2 weeks, this is a 10 weeks cycle. All my stats are increasing!! - You always been natural right? - Yes - So this stuff is new to your body and you were already very big… man you are gonna explode dad!! - I really believe I can rich my prime shape again! And maybe even more… - Oh man, I cant wait dad, I will help you in whatever I can - Thanks son, this will be our journey - But tell me, is it safe? This cycle? - Well, the guy says it’s a new but well known cocktail used by the big bulls in the middle east. - Awesome, is he your friend? - Well, not realy, like kinda? - … - Well its not like a normal friend you know, more like a client… My dad suddenly looks away and starts to turn a bit red. Maybe he is ashamed of who is getting him the drugs? Or is something else? - You ok dad? - There are some more things I need to tell you son… - Sure dad, anything you want - Well, you know that some guys are into, you know, muscles - I sure know… - Ya, well exactly, and as I got bigger, some guys started to ask me for… well - Worshiping… - … - Dad, you must understand that’s my territory. Im gay, I love muscles, I love muscle worship. That’s why I jerked off to your muscles… - Ya, its just that, never tough I would have this kind of talking with you, you know? - That’s ok, if you are ok with it, so am i - Well, its easy money I won’t lie. And all I need to do is what I love doing, flex and pose my muscles - So, its just that? Any touching? Or… - You mean, anything more sexual? - Ya… - No son, they can touch, lick and kiss my muscles. And well, some just cant control it and just start cuming all over them sometimes, but that’s it. And believe me, many were the times that I could have won much more money, but I have my limits - Sure dad, was just asking - So this guy, Cesar, is a long time client, and even loving my body as it is now, he really wants me even bigger - Damn, perfect combo. - Exactly, he had the contacts, so I said yes! - And you… - He can worship me for free and follow all my process of growing huge - Damn… Now im the one that needs time to process all this… - I know… But it is what it is son - Yeah, at this point we better have no lies between us Dad waves his head in agreement. I don’t know what to feel about all of this. My head is running 1000 miles per hour and as much as I’m trying to be serious about all this, I can fell my cock swelling again, knowing that I will now see my growing muscle roided father flex his massive muscles many more times… I will cook the best protein meals, get our basement gym always clean and ready for him to use, hell even inject him if he… Oh wait, bytheway… - Hey dad, who is injecting you? - Oh about that son. I sure know and im very proud that you are a nurse now, but I couldn’t have ask you, well not back then, so Cesar said I could inject into my biceps - Into your biceps? Never heard about that - Yeah, he said glutes were ideal, but was too complicated for me to do it to myself. And legs were too painfully so he said this cocktail could be shoot into my biceps, but the side effect would be that they would grow a bit more… - As if that was a problem… - Haha, not at all! GRRrrrrrrrrr Damn, my dad doesn’t lose an opportunity to flex his cannon biceps! I swear to god that the more he flexes, the more those peaks grow! And not just his peaks, but his bulge is always very alive… - Dad, I see you are much more into your muscles too… am I right? - Oh, son, sorry. Yeah, you are right… My cock is always hard since I start roiding - That’s fine, but I was really not expecting it. I can tell you cant stop admiring your growing body - Cesar said I would feel very horny during this cycle. And boy am i, im cuming 2 to 3 times a day! - Damn dad, that’s alot - Alot indeed, and by cuming I mean waves of it. You saw it - Fucking unreal, you are truly turning into a muscle freak! - Haha, I hope so son, and now with your help I feel more confident than ever! - So whats the first goal? - All about balance and size son, I will add as much mass as I can but I don’t want it to be fat. And some of my muscle groups needs more attention. Of course my arms are almighty but I need bigger pecs. And i know I can get much wider, plus my middle section needs get tighter too, I miss seeing my bulging abs - Damn dad, I don’t know what I will do when you finally reach all those goals - Well I think I know judging by your bulge… Oh man, I really need to be more careful. Look at this, I already have another wet spot in front of my just new fresh pants… - Damn it! Sorry dad, is just that you are so big and getting even bigger… Its too much for a muscle worshiper like me - Its ok son, we both are turned on by my muscles. I stop denying it too. If worshipping me makes you happy, then that makes me happy too son. Besides, as I said, muscle worshipping is not new to me - Thanks dad, you were always amazing to me - I love you son I lift my arms and we both hug each other. What a turn of events, and I am feeling the luckiest guy in the world… So, days are passing and dad is just bursting with pure mass! This will be a different Summer indeed, not beach and partys at all, oh no. My priority is having everything ready for my hulking dad so that he can maximize his gains, helping him reach the freakiness that we both want! Dad is getting wider so fast, almost like a fucking inverted pyramid… - Dad, lunch is ready! – I scream from kitchen - Hold on… Mmmmm… - Come on, you need to feed those muscles - … Tuna, rice, broccolis and pineapple, 3 full plates for my champ. Third week ending and dad already added 10lbs more! Now I can clearly see why he says he thinks he can get even bigger than his prime shape. I just cant stop boning to his hulking lats. His traps are popping from his neck, pecs are swelling so fast and his biceps… I don’t even try to hide my wet pants anymore, one quick look at those mountains and cum just starts to run all down my legs… - Don’t complain that is cold champ - Mmmmm… - Are you alright up there? - Son… You better come here… GRrrrrrrrrrr…! I quickly go upstairs. Is my dad hurt? What the fuck is happening? I enter his bedroom… - Dad?! - … - DAD !!! - It´s, it´s happening again… GRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!! With nothing more than some black workout pants and with his hands on the floor in a crouch position my hulking dad is sweating like crazy, veins bulging everywhere, his face turning red with each heavy breath, his big bare feet stretching… - MMmmmm… im… im ok - Dad! Look at you… - It´s another growth spurt son… It happened before - Growth spurt…? - Yeahhhhhh… Mmmmmm, My muscles just start… BULGING - But you look in pain… - It´s just that, Mmmmmm…. I can feel my muscles expand… I always get great gains when its… over… - Cesar told you about this? - Yes… Oh boy… Its ok, all I need is to… FLEXXX !!! - OMG!... Without warning dad raises up his hulking torso, hitting a colossal most muscular pose! Eyes closed, growling like an animal, his muscles bulge like I never tough it was possible… - Fuck dad, you already look so much bigger… - OH yeah, YESSSSS… Wait till this is over! Get ready… Im gonna explode!! GRRRRrrrrrrrrrr ( ( DING DONG ) ) - Oh shit, someone is at the front door - MMmmmmmmm… its ok son, this is about to get really freaky here! GRRRrrrrrrrr - No, but I want to see it… - Go open the door!! Fuck! I want to see my dad hulkout, what the hell!! I go fast down stairs again and open the fucking door, my cock is just so fucking hard that is hurting like hell stuck inside my pants - Who is it?! - Oh hey, you must be Pedro right? - … yeah, and you are? - Cesar, im your dad´s friend. Is Hugo inside? - Yes… well, no, I mean - … - He is really busy now - It´s happening isn’t it? - … Wait, did my dad just call him to assist his growth? - Its ok Pedro, I know what is happening to his hulking body, I was the one that got the stuff… - Yeah, he already told me… - Good, you like how is working? Is he growing? - Growing? He is hulking! - Oh fuck, I knew he was the right one! - And he is having another growth spurt just now… - I know, he called me! Fuck Pedro, let’s see how is turning out! Slamming the door behind us, we go upstairs as far as we can. Entering the bedroom again I don’t hear anymore sounds… Then, at the corner left, in front of the mirror I see the form of an immense human figure… Cesar shakes his head in disbelieve - My god Hugo, look at you… With his back in full display to us, my dad almost has no space between his monster lats and his colossal arms. Yet his small waist makes him look even more freakish and powerful… Each of his hulking legs looks almost same size of his waist, and his muscle ass looks immense… - Cesar, I hope you like your investment… - OMG, I knew by the photos you sent me that you were getting so much bigger Hugo… but seeing it is just… - Freaky? - More than freaky, oh god im already precuming, fuck… - Fuck dad, I cant believe it!! You are a fucking MUSCLE GOD! Im all wet too… - Haha, you two sound satisfied… But wait until you see it all !! Dad turns around and hits his signature pose! Grunting louder in full pleasure he hits a massive double bicep! His monster arms bulge and his peaks rise like nothing I ever seen in my life!! - Come here boys, time to worship your master!! On our knees, precuming uncontrollably, me and Cesar start feeling and admiring my hulking dad muscles in what would be the first of many worshipping sessions together…

Muscle fog ogre’s gift CH 1 part 5 By Big-Zargo Ogres Invade the Hospital This night would be a good night to look at the stars, but Owens fog covers the sky blanketing the moon and stars in its embrace. The fog seeks and spreads finding victims to propagate Owen’s influence, turning their victims into ogres. Fat, muscular, skinny, average, gay or straight, smart or dumb, healthy or not, any man caught by Owen’s fog will succumb to his will. These ogres under Owens control had been destroying buildings of Holmes top Borough so that Owens Palace could be made and that his domain could be secured. Any humans who survived the first night of Owens takeover who were unfortunate enough to encounter Owens ogres quickly succumb joining the orgy of sex and destruction as an ogre. It has been two weeks since Owen had captured Samuel and transformed him into an ogre, and it had been a bright idea to do so. Unbeknownst to him his ogres had been degrading losing their intelligence and their memories. If it hadn’t been for the ogre-fied Samuel all of his ogres would have been degraded and he would just have to start from scratch re-teaching them all. Having a bunch of dumb ogres would have been easy to control and made them more loyal to him. But it was important that they retain their intelligence; each of their perspectives would give his town variety. Samuel’s fix for the problem is both intelligent and temporary; for by storing the memories and intelligence of his ogres he is able to stop the degrade in select few of his lieutenant ogres or even slowing it down to a crawl in others, but this leads plenty of dumb ogres, who need management to stay out of trouble. In the biggest tent in the city of tents Lord Owen sits upon his big couch like chair towering with his orange muscular body looking down at a blonde-haired man, making this man look like a child. “You’re offering to me is sufficient to attain my audience. Now tell me human what do you seek.” Owen says, while his face is hidden by shadows making the human guesses emotions. “I’ve seen the power of your gift, the strength and size it gives to the recipient and I wish to have it for myself.” The man says with trepidation in his voice. Owen’s shadowed face tilts to the side a little as he replies. “If you just wanted strength you could easily have just walked into my fog and let the transformation take hold rather than sacrificing your two friends to the fog, to make contact me.” After giving his statement, Owen gave a pause to see the man’s response. “The man- “I want to be the biggest, strongest, and the most masculine ogre of them all. But most of all I want to keep being straight. I’ve seen what happens to those who fall under your influence, I have seen how the degrade over time. I’ve noticed that some of your ogres maintain their intelligence and most of their personality. I want your strength, the powers you can offer me, I want musk that can make women go crazy for me, the same way how your ogres are able to make men do so.” Owen gave the man a toothy smile before frowning and leaning forward towards the man. “I could simply lie to you, tell you to do my bidding before turning you into a very big and strong ogre. But for me to grant your wish you must accept the possibility that you might turn out like the rest of my ogres. There is a chance that you may be able to retain that aspect of your sexuality for yourself but that requires a strong will, especially if you’re going to become a specialized ogre; For the more power I bestow upon my ogres the less their original human personality remains. I am trying to say is when I turned you into an ogre, your humanity will be gone and most likely that part of you that cares for a woman’s touch is most likely going to be leaking out of your fat Ogreish cock.” The man- “I have two questions for you my… Lord, Great, Master... How do you want to be called Owen? Owen- “That’s three questions human. But I will oblige. It would be Lord, for the first one.” The man- “Is there some way to get I want without losing my sexuality, and why do all the people you transform into ogres become Gay? Owen- “well now I think there might be a way to keep some of it, but the best I can do is make you bisexual the most. To answer your other question. It’s because I desire it and/ it is also desirable side effect of me transforming people into ogres. I give the people that I transform into ogres some of my essence, like copying and pasting a file, which overwrites some of their natural life force. It would take a probably about a year for the effects to be permanent. Hmmm.. Now I think of it that might be one of the reasons why they are deteriorating. Did I satisfy your questions?” The man- “Yes Lord Owen. What is the task you would like me to do? Owen- “All you need to do is infiltrate a hospital. It somehow is protected from my magical gaze and have some form of magical runes preventing my ogres getting nearby. I needed you to look around figuring out how it’s defended and if possible, destroy those defenses.” With a ripple of noise two ogres enter the huge tent behind the man, but he did not notice them. The man- “That’s it? It will be on my Lord.” “Indeed. I just need to give you a few things for the job.” Owen says, with a mirth in his voice. Three weeks later Deep within the hospital of Holmes Top Borough in an ideal location in the dark and musty basement two man on working air pumps sucking up all of the mysterious muscle fog. This ideal spot in the basement allows the men to work without risk of succumbing to Owens power. Like the sea, Owens fog rises and falls making it the perfect place to experiment with the fog. At the daytime is safe to go down the fog surprisingly retreats into mist or even fades away entirely; but that night the fog rises leaving only one staircase and platform safe to inhabit. These men seek to use the magical fog’s healing properties on their patients. Prof. Semih Zeki was average size man with long curly brown hair, gray eyes, average nose, and weeks cheekbones from the country of Turkey. He had spent the last five years in the USA during research, before heading to Holmes Top Borough to visit a colleague of his, at this very hospital. While Gang Jian was born in America after his parents immigrated, and unlike Prof Zeki he was athletic with lean muscle tannish skin with amber eyes, and long black hair tied up in a ponytail. Like Prof. Zeki he was visiting this hospital because his girlfriend’s mom was in the hospital. On the night of the mysterious fog’s parents all females and young children vanished. The young man latched on to Prof. Zeki like a child to candy because of Zeki willingness to study this strange phenomenon, giving gang some form of stability and hope for his girlfriend as they both investigate the properties of this fog. Prof. Zeki was nervous as they were extracting the muscle fog into an air container. For the last week someone has been attempting to destroy the runes which were protect the hospital from the muscle fog and its victims. He knew he was playing a dangerous game with the muscle fog, but there are too many patients that are to hurt to leave the hospital. With Dr. Wyatt’s help the dosage of the fogs healing property has been found one more night of extracting fog and condensing it into liquid form and they’ll have enough to start healing all the patients. Prof. Zeki hated how loud the gas collector it always makes him nervous. was if it wasn’t for Dr. Wyatt giving them a heads up and the lower floors and basement being practically empty because of the muscle fog surrounding the floors they have made been caught by now. Without Oliver’s wards, talismans and runes around the hospital the ogres would have somehow squeezed inside the hospital and started infecting them all; but at the same time Oliver’s wards do not prevent infection by the muscle fog, only slow it down and reversing the process if there’s not too far gone. Prof. Zeki and Gang knew something was wrong the minute the gas collector stopped making noise. “I’m going to assume are Semih Zeki and Gang Jian you to are not down here breaking my wards. Because if you are, I’m going to have to kill you.” The man behind Prof. Zeki and gang said. Turning around both Zeki and Gang to see Oliver. (Oliver was a middle-aged man with light brown skin and average body type but with a height of 4 feet tall made him a short person. His piercing gray eyes often distracted people from his soft round face. His dirty worn clothes and unshaven black hair gave him a homeless man look.) Prof. Zeki -“No No No I’m not breaking your wards Oliver. I am just collecting the fog for my experiments I believe with the right dosage the fogs healing properties could be used to help. It would make it easier for us to escape if did not have to abandoned anyone, especially the patients.” Oliver gave Zeki a hard look before saying. “I believe you Prof. Zeki that you guys are not breaking my wards.” Prof. Zeki gave an audible sigh of relief at those words. “But this fog collecting must end. The creature called Owen can feel any creature who comes in contact with his fog. That is why had the head Dr. Benjamin Helpmin turn your proposal down. We don’t know how much influence Owen would have a person who was healed by his fog. A person’s whose hand was healed by it may find their own hand moving on against their own volition, or for worse a man who has brain damage might strongly turned traitor on us at a key moment dooming us all into slavery by the wicked creature. That is why I had the containers of fog destroyed.” Prof. Zeki face turns red for a second before his face falls in sadness as he hears Oliver’s words. Gang couldn’t believe how easily Prof. Zeki gave up. Prof. Zeki work was helping people, it had the potential to heal anyone everyone in the hospital. Prof. Zeki research might be able to figure out a way to bring all the women and children back. Prof. Zeki and he have made too many sacrificed to turn back now. Oliver- “I know you guys have been using the patients for your experiments. I am willing to forgive you because I understand that you are trying to understand Owen’s fog; A may not agree with your methods but have enough empathy to understand but I understand why you did it. If you help me find the one who was breaking my wards and give me all your research notes on the fog, I will protect you from Dr. Helpmin and chief Carrick they’ve known what you’ve done and are willing to kill you or exile you. I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt bio have to put a magical binding upon you two as the insurance policy.” Oliver lifts his hand out as if he was going to greet the two men. “What this so-called magical binding,” Prof. Zeki asked? Oliver- “It’s like a magical promise only if you break it there would-be consequences.” The two men looked apprehensive at the thought of Oliver’s magical binding. Prof. Zeki gave a long exhausting sigh before saying. “All I want to do was help people. When I saw that one arm man transform into an ogre and his arm was fully restored. I thought that I could use the fog to heal people.” Prof. Zeki starts to cry as he continues to speak. “I got some of the first dosages wrong on the first couple of patients and the immediately transformed into ogres. I didn’t mean to turn some of them into ogres I didn’t need to turn Kenny into one of them.” Gang couldn’t believe it. Prof. Zeki a proud man was crying like a baby and confessing actions to Oliver. This behavior from Prof. Zeki was odd to Gang. Something was wrong but he couldn’t put his tongue on it. “Come you two grabs onto my hand and all will be forgiven.” Oliver says with compassion in his voice. Before Prof. Zeki’s hand could reach out towards Oliver, Gang stopped it. “How do you know of our experiments and what did you do with all the few people healed by the magical fog.” Gang with suspicion in his voice. “Because I told them.” Said the man coming behind Oliver. Both Prof. Zeki and Gang looked shocked at the site of Dr. Wyatt as he walked into the dim light. (Dr. Wyatt was a skinny man with a black curly hair, bland facial features with a slim mustache to break up the monotony, brown eyes that are surrounded by thick round glasses and dark brown skin that as dark as dark chocolate. He is currently wearing worn-out red button sleeve shirt, blue jeans, and his doctor’s shoes.) Dr. Wyatt’s face was pointed downwards in shame. Gang- “why Wyatt why?” With sadness in his voice. “Didn't you want to help your brother? we had collected enough to wake him up without turning them into an ogre.” Dr. Wyatt- “I’m sorry but chief Carrick caught me sneaking around the lower floors and I panicked when I saw him and ran; Sadly, for me, he was faster. He brought me to Oliver, and he gave me two choices tell him what I was doing down at the first floor or he would place a curse an upon me.” Something was wrong but Gang cannot put his finger on it. Prof. Zeki was giving up too easily, he had to knock him out just so he can get some sleep three days ago. Dr. Wyatt and himself had made plans just for this occasion, although he wasn’t a great liar, he was good of the subterfuge of half-truths. Something was definitely up with the situation. Looking around Gang at Prof. Zeki and Dr. Wyatt he noticed that their body language was off; it was if they were drunk, the way their bodies moved side to side in a circular motion. Backing away Gang asked. “What have you done to them Oliver? What kind of spell had the cast upon them?” Oliver - “MMMM… You seem to have a natural resistance to magic or magic of own which is defending you against my charm. Sadly, for you, I have no time to break through your defenses or to test to see if you are capable of becoming a wizard or sorcerer. My spell to secure this location is surprisingly delicate. I can’t have you accidentally messing it up by be here, neither can I allow you to escape if Owen got his hands on you, we will be doomed.” Gang- “If I’m such a wrench in your plan what about the trader? With Owen’s help he could stop whatever you’re doing.” Oliver- “I doubt that. The trader is clearly human if he had an ounce of magical power, I would’ve sensed it. I’ve been scanning all week for any magic users in the area. When the trader began destroying my wards and runes, I found you, Dr. Wyatt and Prof. Zeki through my scanning. I cannot let you and your allies jeopardize the safety of the people of this hospital, with you and your reckless experiments with the muscle fog. By you being resistant to my charm spells you can cause great trouble to me and the protection of this hospital, because of that Gang, you must die for the greater good.” With those words Oliver pointed towards Gang's chest and with a flash, a fireball hit him pushing and flipping him off the edge of the platform. His body falls onto the ground making a big flat as it does so. Oliver would have loved to simply kill all three of them and be done with it, but he needed Prof. Zeki notes, and he promised the head Doctor and the chief that he would apprehend Prof. Zeki and Dr. Wyatt for their judgment. Besides with the charm he put over them they’ll confess everything. This has been the second potential he had to kill, but it had to be done. With Gangs immunity to my charm spells and keen eye he would have found out, that I had control of the leadership of the hospital. even if you were to be executed the rumors, he would make would slow his plans down for evacuating the other potentials. Looking around he thought that this place would make a good excellent to store the other six potentials while they’re still in magical stasis on the second floor. With a wave of his hand, he compelled charmed Prof. Zeki and Dr. Wyatt to follow him. The good news or bad news for Gang when he was pushed off the platform by Oliver’s fireball, he fell directly into Owens muscle fog. If Oliver knew how powerful the fogs healing was, he would’ve aimed for the face. As it stands the fog began to work overtime to repair Gang’s broken body. Unknowingly to Owen, Oliver or any of the other guardians, Gang’s bloodline of Magic was now awakening due to the residue of Oliver’s magic and Owens magical fog. The limbs that were broken because of his fall began to reassemble themselves. The hole in his chest began to fill in, as he began to regain consciousness. The mostly dormant magic in gang body began to awaken and grow, like a plant deprived the water its greedily soaked up the magical fog. Everything felt like it was on fire to Gang as his magic transformation began. With every breath from his chest Gangs body swells with might, his arms and legs growing in the rhythm with his healed heart. Every second Gangs body grew and grew with muscle and height quickly stretching out his of clothes. Boiling magical blood flow through his body feeding his grow of his muscular body. His cock quickly hardens as it becomes erect, causing him to moans out in pleasure. With sounds of tearing and popping the remains of his clothes quickly fall to the floor as Gangs transformation kicks into high gear. Gangs fine six pack grew into a muscle gut, his biceps grew into huge bowling balls, his thighs grew into muscular tree trunks. His feet and hands became huge pads and baseball mitts with black nail like claws. Like swelling balloons his balls grew into oranges and his hard cock swells into a thick 12-inch-long monster. Two small black horns, like round triangles grow out of Gang’s head. his teeth sharpen as his lower canine grow outwards turning into tusks. His jaw turns squarish, his nose becomes more blunter, as well as his facial features. His amber eyes begin to glow a supernatural yellow, as his brow ridge grows out giving him a demonic caveman look. Wild black hair starts growing on his thick barrel chest, and spreads all over his body covering his arms, legs, back and ass and leaving a nice treasure trail to his huge cock and balls. His face quickly follows, His eyebrows thickening, as grows a wild beard and mustache and has his already long hair grows even more longer and wilder. Finally, his skin turns blue with dark patches sprinkled in. The finalization of his of his transformation causes gang to roar in pleasure as he came, shooting out all of his humanity through his fat cock. Seeing the changes to his body rekindle his lust, that he felt earlier. His fat cock rehardens, as he sets up moving his body in a sitting position. Gang’s felt his mind hazy and conscious at the same time. Like a dream gang’s body moves on its own reaching his meaty hand towards his erect cock, with no conscious control of his mind. Lightning bolts of pleasure raced through his mind as starts to pleasure himself on his fuck-stick. “My god,” Gang thought, “this feels fucking good. My whole body feels like it is on fire and it makes me so fucking horny. I feel like I can run all day and still have enough energy to fuck all night. If this is how it feels to be one of Owens ogres, then it’s no curse. Faster, stronger and a libido I don’t know why we resisted.” After any other minute of masturbating Gang came again, shooting out his poet and thicker cum all over his big hairy body. “Fuck”, Gang mound out in pleasure. After his second orgasm Gang kept finding new ways to pleasure himself. For hours he kept playing with himself finding new ways to feed his lust. Pausing his pleasure after hearing a mysterious voice in his head. “HMMMM… Well, your different, but maybe I can help you. My name is Owen.” “Help?” Gang sniffed in annoyance. “I’m so fucking horny, I can barely think straight. I’m so fucking horny, I doubt I can even save Semih and John from Oliver.” Owen- “please tell me more.” And so, Gang did. Telling Owen his story and eventually telling him everything he knew. “I think I can help you Gang, with your predicament.” Owen said with a thought of a smile. Several hours later Oliver, Kendall the head Doctor of the hospital, and Carrick the chief of police in Holmes top Borough were all standing on the roof top of the hospital, waiting on the betrayer to be delivered to them. All three leaders, two prisoners, and four guards were waiting for the betrayer to be delivered both Kendall and Carrick were staring daggers at Prof. Zeki and Dr. Wyatt, Kendall with brownish gray eyes and Carrick with the green eyes. Both Kendall and Carrick contrast each other, Kendall with his average body, brown skin, black hair, and clean-shaven face, compared to Carrick’s round body, pale white skin, reddish-brown hair, and nice bushy mustache. Carrick- “I can’t believe we found for traders among us. You think that being transformed into a huge muscle horny caveman controlled by a vengeful supernatural entity would unite us together.” Kendall- “Sex crazed ogres or zombies the results are the same. Some will rise to the challenge while others will be found wanting.” Carrick- “I guess a zombie apocalypse would be worse because we would have to kill our loved ones if they became infected.” Kendall- “HMM… It’s hard to say which ones worse, on the one hand, a zombie infection that comes from virus, would be no leader, both male and females, adults and children can all become infected; and eventually the infected would die out, because of exposure from the elements and a lack of food and water. On the other hand, Owens infection is magical, and it has a leader to direct be infected and maintain victim’s health.” Carrick- “Yeah you’re right it’s pretty was hard to say which ones worse. By the way don’t you find it’s pretty strange that Owens infection only effect men?” Kendall- “Yeah, it’s pretty strange.” Oliver- “I believe it’s what gives it the most power. As a God, devil or demigod he gains its power through worship. These deprived acts of sex and destruction must be would feel it is. It must not be able to corrupt females or it’s simply too hard to do so. What puzzles me the most is the children? They should be the most easily to corrupt.” The insightful conversation that Oliver was having with, Kendall and Carrick ended as the trader was escorted onto the top of the roof of the hospital with them. The trader was sickly pale tan skin man, with blue eyes, that had a rabid tint to them, long filthy blond hair, triangle like face, a short scruffy beard and a lean and muscular body, as if he been starving for days. In short, the man looked like a rapid animal. The man was easily carried by the two guards escorting him. Oliver thought that he would be too weak to interrogate and maybe too dangerous to use spells on; But he and the men knew what they had to do. Oliver- “you do not need to be here Kendall; you can stay near to the door of the stairwell. One the guards will grab you, if your medical services are needed.” Kendall- “thank you for the concern, but this must be done. I’ll be near just in case you need me to keep him alive. Besides I can always leave the range of your silence spell.” With a wave of his will, he cast the spell of silence around them, so that the interrogation of the prison there may begin. A dome of light appeared surrounding all the men on the roof top before disappearing. On the ground level an ogre with a pair of magical binoculars had been watching. One of Owens plan has come to pass in it was now time for its execution. The trader’s work was done Owen now had a direct line to the hospital in fact several lines for which he could pump his muscle fog inside the building. With his will Owen began pumping his fog through the air vents of the hospital, while casting his own silent spells with the help of Gang. Gang began moving his big body throughout the hospital beginning with the basement to the first floor; casting silent spells as well as laying the fogs magic abilities to bending reality. Rather than destroying the building and bring along noise the fog had transmuted the properties to be like soft sturdy rubber, like if the hospital was a fun house. They are very few people guarding on the first floor, and because of that they were the first to succumb to Owens will. With a blast of a fog ball striking a guard in the middle of his chest. He quickly starts changing into a muscular ogre; muscles quickly grew destroying his close. His facial features changed and tell he resembled a brutish caveman. The intelligence in his eyes quickly fading, being replaced with dumb horniness, and with a silent roar, he came shooting out the rest of his humanity through his new fat Ogreish cock. The newly changed ogre quickly fell into line, following Gang in converting the humans in the hospital into ogres. One then two then three and eventually all ten guards on the first floor, fell into line as big 10 feet tall ogres, each peppered with wild hair all over their bodies, each with horniness clouding their minds, each radiating fog all over their bodies, each leaking erects foot long cock scheming out muscle fog as their Ogreish cum by making contact with the air, and each ready to spread Owen’s gift. With a psychic command of their master, they split up each quickly taking the stairs in the hospital. The people on the second floor knew something was wrong, as everything became silent all at once. Quickly barging in through the hallway of the second floor. The ogres ran towards guards first and then people, spreading Owen’s gift with one touch. Young adult or old man, fat or skinny, sickly or healthy, injured or well, and any between felt Owen’s blessing passing through their bodies. One by one the victims start to transform and like guards on the first floor before they quickly grow out their clothing. Their big meaty hairy pecs popping out of There barrel chest, as shirts pop off of their growing bodies. Hands grew into mitts as, biceps became huge as bowling balls, destroying any shirt sleeves if worn. As their big feet quickly destroy their human size shoes. Pants and shorts rapidly start tearing and exploding off of them, unable to handle the big solid hairy thighs of an ogre. Undergarments dropping off of huge chests and wide waists, revealing their foot-long hard cock, huge orange size balls and their big thick hairy ass. Before anyone human on the second floor had knew what was happening they were all roaring as they shot the last humanity. Owen’s blessing had reached the second floor turning all the humans into his ogres. Their skin had taken and turned into different shades of orange if their skins weren’t dark already. Like the guards on the first floor, their faces became more brutish, the hair on their had grown wild and their minds have gone blank being replaced with sexual desires. Some if not all of the fat on their bodies transferred when they became an ogre. most of doors which remained close and/or locked now opened, with the fog spilling out, as the occupants came out. Even those who hidden inside their rooms were not safe, even those who were asleep or injured were not safe from Owens blessing. The sexual energy was now ramping up with so many ogres nearby each other some of them even beginning masturbating while others began to hump each other. Within another mental thought the ogres began moving towards the third floor to spread Owen’s blessing. Oliver felt the disturbance as a man outside in a hurry, passing through his invisible barrier of silence to reach them. The guard- “the ogres have invaded the hospital and they have already claimed the first two floors. Oliver, we need your help to ward them off. The talismans you’ve given us all working, but there’s too many of them and they’re quickly spreading. I fear the people on the third floor may be lost. If you don’t hurry the fourth and fifth floors will be consumed by the ogre’s sexual rampage.” Carrick- “Fuck! If we don’t, at least repel these ogres from the second or third floor we will be trapped, at the top floors of this hospital.” Oliver- “Kendall, Matt and you guards stay up here, on the roof top where is safe and watch the prisoners. The rest of you follow me we need to stop the ogres before the corrupt this entire hospital. Oliver, Carrick and the rest of the guards made their way downstairs to the fourth floor. Before heading down Oliver had cast a silent beacon spell intended for the other guardian but one unknown to Samuel. By the time they got to the fourth floor they discover that the third was lost. Oliver discovers that the floors were being silenced to prevent any attempt of a mountable defense and to isolate them from each other. Quickly taking of the situation, Oliver had the stairwells quickly secure to prevent further spreading to the fourth and fifth floors. Once the fourth floor was secure Oliver asked, Carrick to go and check up on the fifth floor and secure it. With complete trust in Oliver’s wisdom, Carrick made his way to the fifth floor. He began the process of securing the fifth floor making sure that the people were calm and not panicking making sure that everyone has the talismans. These talismans made by Oliver are like crosses to a vampire for the ogres pushing them back and re-pal the effects of the fog on people. Sadly, the potency of these talismans had limits eventually they would run out of power, then the ogres could go on to grab you, and make you join their sausage party. “Carrick Sir, Dr. Horton he has vital information for you and Oliver. This information so important that’s for your and Oliver’s ears only.” Said the masked guard, whose bluish green eyes glimmer in the light. Getting a few more commands to the people and guards, carrack made his way to the roof top. Making his way through the stairs and opening the door, Carrick wondered what kind of info was so important that Kendall had to tell him in person. Carrick- “What is it that you….” Splat!! A blast of hot ogres cum had fell straight into Carrick’s mouth as he was talking. He stuttered for a second gagging on the ogres cum in his mouth nearly falling into the stairwell before reflexively swallowing and gaining his balance. The sight Kendall, the guards, Prof. Zeki Dr. Wyatt as ogres had stunned him and arouse him at the same time. Carrick’s face quickly paled of the relays what happened to him and his friends. But sadly, for him these were his last thoughts, as his mind became foggy with lust. His body quickly changed into a big hairy ogre quickly bursting through his clothing with his new 10 feet tall muscular orange colored body. His once average cock transformed into a fat foot long monster, before shooting all of his humanity. Carrick now a big hairy ogre felt the call of his master as well as the others. the guards on the fifth floor, quickly found out that the talismans no longer work, as the ogres came into contact. Within several minutes the people on the fifth floor quickly succumb to Owen’s gift, each roaring in primal ecstasy, as they shot the last of their humanity through their fat Ogreish cocks. People on the four floors, after hearing the roars coming from third and fifth floors begun to panic. “Gather to me and hold strong, I have one last idea.” Oliver said with command and confidence. Oliver knew that they were doomed. He knew they cannot escape. Maybe he could have escaped on his own leaving the people to their fate, but eventually he would be cornered, captured and corrupted into Owen’s slave. The outcome he cannot allow to happen neither would he abandon these people under his protection. He knew what must be done but could he do it? As the ogres came closer to the circle of people Oliver lifted his glowing red hands up into the sky and cast one last great spell. In an instant, him, and the people around him exploded. This explosion creating a shockwave that blasted the few ogres out of hospital and collapsing the third fourth and fifth floors into each other. Leaving the hospital of Holmes top borough practically destroyed. A few days later Owen was both frustrated and happy because one more Guardian was gone; but sadly, he was not able to corrupt losing a potential asset. Still the prices he got was well worth it and discoveries he made with magical potentials he found in the wreckage. Gave him one more chance to corrupt a guardian, the last Guardian he thought. Next time he would have to make sure the Guardian would not destroy himself or his potential recruits. It was a nightmare to save the potentials and my ogres from Oliver’s explosion luckily, we ogres are quite durable. Now I send Leo to do one last task for me prefer giving his reward. One the last bastion for the people I must conquer before this town is mine.

Candice is just getting home from the gym, wearing yoga pants and a bright pink sports bra. I am ready to greet her at the door, knowing she likes to strip out of her clothes and shower, only today I am bigger, more aggressive and dominant than before. "Hey babe..." She walks in, mouth dropping to the floor. Looking at my shorts straining and my red UnderArmor shirt seeming like it could burst at the seams. "It's about time you got home." She giggles slightly. "I was gone for like 2 hours tops baby." I pull her roughly toward me... lock my lips onto hers... so hungry... devouring her as I massage her tight, toned curves in my hands... pulling her slightly off the floor onto her tiptoes. She kisses me back, not as rough but definitely hungry. My hands feel so big, roaming her body. My cock is thickening up... at the sight, feel, and smell of her... She pulls back from the kiss, looking down. "Are you wearing shoes? I've never had to lean up to kiss you before." "It's just me down there babe... barefoot and brawny." For some reason this excites her. I swing around behind her... driving my throbbing cock into her back... my arms around her... knowing she just wants to head to the shower. She kisses me even harder. Plunging her tongue in and out of my mouth. Wanting to more of me. I grunt and grab... and she feels my body getting... heavier... "Ung! Baby! What has gotten into you?!" She feels my pecs, pushing against her head. "Wait, your pecs???" she asks in disbelief. "You bring out the beast in me Babe..." You hear the seams of my shirt straining... threads slowly popping out of place. "Fuckkkkk... feels so good to be with you girl." Candice tries to look over her shoulder but I keep her moving. Her head feeling wedged by my chest. "And it looks like you weren’t too late for the show." She reaches a hand around behind me... feeling swelling, tightening quads and glutes. She keeps heading towards the bathroom, but with my hands on her, so big and greedy, I lift her off her feet toward another direction. TBC...

Happy Holidays from ABSMAN420! Based on Aardvark's LIFE STORE series, here's a classic absman story I found on the shelf and dusted off for you for Christmas! Enjoy a family-themed holiday muscle growth story! “Dad?!? I’m HOME!” He emerged from the upstairs bedroom, wearing only a pair of cotton pajama bottoms and a black baseball cap with the gold Iowa Hawkeyes logo on the front. Barely in his forties, he was densely muscled with the kind of powerful neck that betrayed all wrestlers. Every inch the coach, every inch the man who’d devoted his life to a sport, he’d wrestled since sixth grade, made varsity in ninth, high school national champion soon thereafter, recruited by Iowa, collegiate nationals champion his junior and senior years, now head coach at the junior college that prepped talent for UI, and first in line for the assistant’s position at the big school. He looked down on me from the top of the balcony and in his gravelly voice said, “Oh, I see Loser U is finally on Christmas break. Wait, what do you liberals call it? WINTER break, right?” He chuckled hoarsely at his own joke, running a hand over his bare, muscular torso. Even though I promised myself I wouldn’t react to his bait – the whole bus ride halfway across the country, I’d promised myself over and over – immediately I was defensive. “Dad… not everybody celebrates Christmas.” “Oh, Jesus, Brian! It was a joke – a freakin’ joke!” He descended the stairs as he bitched, his big muscles bouncing as he plodded down. “That’s the problem with you east coast intellectuals, you’re too freakin’ good for everything! Sometimes I wish your little Liberal U HAD a wrestling team – it’d be fun to come in there and kick their ass!” At the base of the stairs, we faced each other – at five-nine, we were the same height and structure, but he easily had me by forty pounds of muscle. He just seemed taller than me by the way he carried himself, by his confidence and posture, inflated by his ego. We didn’t hug. He only hugged his wrestlers – and then only when they won – never his son. No, he held his hand out for me to shake. And naturally, he seemed disappointed by the firmness of my grip. “So c’mon in and see the place,” he said, leading the way into the house. I followed, eye-level with his massive traps. This little off-campus, post-divorce house of his was a testament to his life as a single man and wrestler. A shrine, almost. Trophies and medals and photographs everywhere, posters and playbills from various events and contests, equipment and gear stashed here and there, a mishmash of obsession – maybe Mom had been right. The whole place was a disaster. Torn apart, laundry discarded, dirty dishes in stacks, this was clearly not the work of one man. He obviously had his wrestlers over often – the gigantic sectional sofa looked well-worn and comfortable beneath its wrinkled throw, and there was no belittling the entertainment center and the nearly wall-sized plasma TV. What college-aged guy wouldn’t like that? One of the coffee tables had been awkwardly cleared and a small, fake Christmas tree blinked merrily away, despite being decorated with a couple of dirty socks and someone’s jockstrap covering the face of the angel on top. Underneath was a single wrapped present, about the size of a shirt box. “That’s for you,” Dad said, handing it to me. “Well, really, it’s for BOTH of us, but, uh… I think you’ll get more out of it… initially. Open it.” “Isn’t it a little early for…?” “What?” he said impatiently – he wasn’t used to being questioned, some things never change. “It’s Christmas Eve, the sun’s almost down. What the fuck? Let’s start your homecoming right.” I’d never seen that much sentiment out of my father, so I sat awkwardly on the sofa arm and opened his gift, tearing through the paper and opening the box. “What is this…?” I asked under my breath as I looked inside. It was the strangest thing – he’d given me a singlet, an old Iowa singlet, black with gold piping and the word “IOWA” spelled across one leg, the Hawkeye logo emblazoned on the center front, where it would be directly over the heart when worn. It wasn’t even a NEW singlet. Beat up and flaking, stretched at the seams, as if the guy who’d worn it had been way too big for it – it was certainly too big for me, scarecrow that I am. Also a jockstrap in the same condition. Well-worn, stretched elastic, there was no mistaking that this jock had been worn by someone with monstrous genitalia, the cotton pouch was so distended. It may have been laundered clean, but it was still someone’s used jockstrap. He’d given me someone’s used jockstrap for Christmas. Was this his idea of a joke? He wasn’t laughing – rather, he had an anticipatory smile on his face. “Okay, now before you say something that pisses me off,” he said, sitting on the coffee table before me, pushing some dishes out of the way so he could, “let me explain it.” I made a fist and comfortably fit it in the pouch of the jock. “Absolutely,” I said. “I’d love to hear your explanation for THIS.” “Okay,” he said, nodding slightly. “But first, go put that stuff on.” “What?” “I bought it for you, Brian. Put it on.” He said that with a “coach” attitude, a man who wasn’t used to being questioned. “But…” He held up his hand for me to stop. “But nothing. Put it on. It’ll be like your Christmas present to me. Your old man wants to see you in a Hawkeyes uniform just once before he dies, okay? Indulge me?” “You’re not gonna die, are you?” “Just put the fucking thing on!” And so, in the filthy bathroom just off the kitchen, I shucked my clothes and put on the outfit Dad had given me for Christmas. The jockstrap didn’t even come close to fitting – or at least, that’s what I suspected. I’d only ever worn a jockstrap one time before that, and it’d given me a rash. Just a little too big in the waist, so that it fell and settled on my hip bones, and to make the pouch fit I’d need a balled-up pair of socks, or a grapefruit. The singlet was just as bad. Though its elasticity was better, it was still clearly two sizes too large. With my boney bod, I might as well have been a wire hanger for the way it hung on me from the shoulders. I looked ridiculous. Comical. Embarrassing. How could my Dad and I differ that much? When I went back to the living room, the smile on his face was the largest I’d ever seen on him – especially directed at me. A shark spying his evening meal. “This thing is huge on me,” I said, embarrassed by his scrutiny, humiliated by his gaze. “Yeah,” he said, like it was an unimportant detail. He reached down and adjusted his package beneath his sweats. “Is this one of your old ones?” I asked. “No,” he said quietly. “Mine would probably fit you, though you still wouldn’t fill it out as well.” He winked to indicate he was teasing – I let it go. “No, that there must’ve belonged to one of the big boys – maybe Gunter, or Johnny No-Neck.” “Well, where did you get it? Why are you giving it to me?” “First things first,” he said, standing. There was no hiding his dick as it pushed out against the loose cotton sweats he wore. Was seeing me in this singlet giving my Dad a hard-on? Ignoring it, and my unmistakable reaction to it, he reached in his pocket, pushing his big half-log to the side to retrieve a small plastic pouch. He tossed it to me. Naturally, I fumbled it instead of catching it smoothly. “Take those,” he said, crossing his hands before his package, lightly holding himself and tickling his dick with a finger. “Take those, then we’ll talk. I’ll explain everything.” It was a small, plastic pouch about the size of a business card, two pills inside. Stapled to it, a typed paper label reading, “WRESTLING MATT, 20, 215lb class, Coach’s Favorite.” “What is this?” “Take ‘em,” Dad said – I think he WAS playing with himself. “You need some water or something?” He picked a half-full bottle from the table and held it out to me. “But, what…?” He spoke sharply, inflating his ribcage and bristling his muscle. “Brian,” he said, “just do what I say. Don’t make me MAKE you take them.” And so I dry-swallowed them – but they must’ve been gel-coated, because they went down easy -- one tasted slightly metallic. “Thank you,” he said in a lighter tone. “Now sit down and I’ll tell you what this is all about.” When I plopped myself back on the arm of the sofa, my hands crossed before my crotch, he continued, hurrying through the exposition. “I was in the city not long ago on a tourney, staying at a hotel in this weird little neighborhood on the east side. I was coming back after practice, walking down this street with all these little shops and shit and I pass by this vintage clothing store. There’s a singlet in the window – catches my eye – an old-school Iowa lo-cut singlet, like we wore in the eighties, when I was there. “Anyway, I go inside, and the Man who owns the store, a little dumpy fag with this kind of know-it-all attitude sees me checkin’ out the singlet and the first thing out of his mouth – not ‘hello’, not ‘how are you?’, not ‘welcome to my store’ – no, he says, ‘Your son’s a disappointment to you. You wish he’d found the passion for wrestling that you have.’ “And what was I gonna do, Brian? It’s true. And it caught me off-guard. So, instead of questioning how he knew it, or what business of his it was, I nodded and said, ‘Yeah…’ “Because, it IS a disappointment to me, Brian. It breaks my heart that you don’t like wrestling – since before you were born, it was my dream to raise a little wrestler and be your coach.” It was so weird to hear my Dad talking like this – it was almost too much. I was feeling a little light-headed, so I slid down onto the seat of the sofa and leaned back against the soft material, my hands still covering my crotch. “I’m sorry, Dad,” I said, near tears. “I wish I could’ve been the son you wanted.” Dad smiled and barked a laugh. “That’s what HE said,” he said, “the Man at the shop. He said it was possible for me to have the son I’d always wanted. He said I could BUY that – I didn’t have to wish it, I could buy it – and he had just the thing!” “What?” I asked – I WAS feeling dizzy, clouded. I was having trouble keeping up with the narrative. I felt like I had just taken cold medicine or something. “So we’re in the back of his shop where the cash register and stuff is and we go to this filing cabinet. He tells me that this place is called THE LIFE STORE – the clothing thing is just a front – and through some unexplainable combination of alchemy and nano-technology or something, he’s able to craft complete new lives for people. He sells new lives! “Okay, NOW I think he’s crazy and I’m just indulging him. I really just want to buy the singlet and get the hell out of there, right? And he pulls out this thick file marked ‘ATHLETES,’ and it’s full of biographies and profiles of all these different jocks and all these different sports. He’s humming as he sorts through them. There’s only a few wrestlers – what a shock, right? – when he pulls one out and says, ‘This is it!’” It was still hard to follow what my Dad was talking about, but I realized that I wasn’t sick, wasn’t dizzy – no, just the opposite. I was starting to feel a buzz, like the coming wave that rides you up to drug-induced ecstasy. I was feeling kind of good. I was even starting to get a hard-on. I could feel it growing beneath the loose jockstrap. Instead of being embarrassed by it, however, I briefly thought, “Well, so does DAD…” before I dismissed it. Fuck it, let it get hard – it felt good. Besides, Dad wasn’t trying to hide his. “It was a helluva profile,” Dad continued, watching me curiously. “And I loved how the guy’s name was a pun – Wrestling Matt.” He chuckled. “Oh, Brian, you’re gonna love being him.” “What?” I asked, almost fully hard. “What do you mean?” “I’m turning you into him, into the son I’ve always wanted. I bought the profile from the Life Store and I’m turning you into Wrestling Matt, a twenty year old, two-hundred fifteen pound, cocky, nationally-ranked super-jock whose only desire is to please his coach and be like his dad, obsessed with wrestling and training hard at the gym. He loves it, he loves Iowa, he loves his teammates, he loves his jock life, and he owes it all to his Dad, his coach, and he loves to show his gratitude.” He touched his dick again and dreamily added, “It’s gonna be fuckin’ awesome to have him around instead of you....” “But… how…?” Dad shrugged, his big traps flexing and falling. “I don’t know. The Man tried to explain it to me but it didn’t make any sense. Who fuckin’ cares HOW it works? All that matters is that it does.” He looked me up and down quickly, taking his measure, then said, “And it’s obvious that’s something’s happening to you. Stand up.” I obeyed him so quickly that it surprised me. I didn’t even pause to consider any other options. He commanded and I obeyed, just like that – and it felt good to please my coach… I mean, my Dad. “You’re already bigger,” he said. “How do you feel, Matt?” Weakly, I said, “It’s Brian…” A stern look crossed his face – he didn’t like being contradicted. (How could you be Coach’s Favorite if you questioned an order, Brian?) Dad got up in my face and growled. “It’s whatever I say it is… Matt. Answer the question.” Again, without even waiting for him to finish the order, I obeyed it – and that gave me such pleasure. “I feel kind of weird,” I said, tingling, “but good. I can feel my body getting… I don’t know, THICKER almost. Inside and out. Stronger.” And before I could stop myself, I said, “But it’s nothing compared to how good it feels when I obey an order from you.” There was triumph in his smirk, even though he hadn’t won, yet. It kind of pissed me off that he thought I’d be so easy to defeat – I was starting to feel kind of aggressive, kind of angry. Masculine. I was rock hard now, and even the jockstrap wasn’t able to contain me. Turn me into some kind of super-jock, will he? Fuck, when I’m two-hundred fifteen pounds I’ll show him. I orgasmed then, facing off with my Dad. I grunted and moaned as I shot, breaking eye-contact with him – a big, wet stain immediately spreading on the singlet, but still I didn’t stop. I wasn’t even embarrassed by it – no, I fuckin’ LOVED it! It felt so GOOD! “Yeah,” Dad growled. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about…” “Fuck!” I screamed as the orgasm subsided, a few vain left-over spurts feebly making their way out of my still-hard cock. I felt so vibrant – so STRONG. “Where’s… a fuckin’… MIRROR?” I said, my voice gaining a rough edge it had never had before. That was certainly the first time I’d used the “F”-word in front of my coach… I mean, my Dad. He seemed to be taking it okay, though. He had a huge smile on his face as he led me to the full-length mirror at the end of the hallway. A light shone done from directly above where we were standing, making for kind of dramatic lighting as I saw what had begun happening to me. Mirrors had never been my friends – they always showed my flaws, my weaknesses. I would avoid my reflection as much as I could. But standing here with my Dad, I looked in the mirror and saw a whole different me. And since my dad was reflected accurately, then I must have been, too. I didn’t see the skinny, weak, loser I had always been. No, I saw a developing athlete instead, with a strong muscular base that seemed to be growing before my eyes. Damn, I looked good in this singlet, tight as it was becoming – like it was MADE for me. Made for my body. Made to show off my muscle, my power – my very generous cock. I never thought I could be so hot. So incredible. Maybe I wouldn’t mind being this Wrestling Matt after all… “Flex,” Coach said, looking at my reflection rather than me. I instantly obeyed, throwing up a double-bis, and my erection instantly returned. Look how fucking big I was getting! I went from pose to pose, Coach showing me the ones I didn’t really know – most muscular, side chest – my musculature improving and growing the more I flexed. Look at my traps, my neck – years of neck bridges showed as I flexed. “Let’s see the abs,” Coach said, putting his hands behind his own head and flexing his – no wonder he stressed core-training as much as he did. His abs were incredible, dense, thick and separated by deep, oxen-plowed grooves. I quickly pulled the straps of my singlet down, eager to see what mine looked like next to his. I wasn’t disappointed. All the hours we’d spent training together – the nearly obsessive nature of it – had clearly paid off. I remember it used to drive Mom fuckin’ crazy. No wonder she and Dad split up – she couldn’t understand men who had our priorities. My abs were actually better than Dad’s… I mean, than my Coach’s. He was thicker through the middle than me – a little middle-aged spread, I’d joke with him when I really wanted to piss him off – my waist was almost two inches smaller than the old man and my tiny little hips gave me a “V” much more sever than his. “Hard not to be envious, isn’t it?” I asked in my gravelly new voice as we fought for mirror space. Coach barked out a “Fuck you” and cocked his fist like he was gonna punch me. “Go ahead, old man,” I said, smirking, running a hand over my eight-pack. “Give it your best shot.” As soon as his fist came in contact with my muscle, I orgasmed again, this time so powerful, it brought me to my knees. My big cock just kept pumping out the jizz, soaking the material and dripping down my leg. I fuckin’ LOVED it! When I could control myself again, there on my knees in the hallway, I looked over at Coach, standing there with a triumphant smirk on his face – God damn, I loved him! After all, I owed him fucking EVERYTHING – he made me into the man I was today. He’d trained me all my life to be the best I could be – to be like HIM. His big hard dick fought the confines of his loose sweats, and as the Coach’s Favorite, I knew what my job was. Without waiting for his order or his guidance, I reached over, untied the waistband, and pulled out his thick, nine-incher. Damn, I may’ve had better abs, but I had nothing on Coach’s hot, hot cock. “You gonna stare at it,” he asked, “or are you gonna do something with it?” “Just give me the order, Coach.” That smirk – that cocky fuckin’ smirk – the one I’d inherited. Yeah, fucker, just watch what your favorite can do. Feel my talented mouth. “Suck my cock, Matt,” he said, slapping it against my face. The rush of pleasure I felt when I took it in my mouth caused me to cum again. Seeing our reflections in the mirror, this hulking college wrestler blowing his Coach, their muscle flexing, their faces locked in ecstasy, made it even hotter. I knew just what to do, just how to tickle, just when to deep-throat, and when he orgasmed, filling my mouth with his salty-sweet jism, choking me with its volume, I knew with certainty that was why I’d been created. And I’d never be satisfied. “Isn’t this better than being some pansy-ass performing arts major at Liberal U, Brian?” he asked as he leaned against the wall and I licked him clean. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked as I ran my tongue down the length of his impressive shaft. “My name is Matt. Don’t you remember, or did it take all the blood from your brain to fill this big dick of yours? I go to Iowa, like my dad before me. I’m on a wrestling scholarship that you helped me earn, and for which....” I kissed the head of his cock and slipped it back into his sweats. “…I will be forever grateful.” “Excellent,” he said, patting me on the head. “Let’s go hit the mats, then, Matt. I want to see what you learned at Iowa this semester.” It was our best Christmas ever – we could train, eat, and fuck without Mom breathing down our necks. Coach and I trudged through the snow to the Athletic Building on campus, opened up the wrestling room, turned up the heat, and grappled the night away. We started in our Iowa singlets, which was hot enough, then we stripped down to jocks and finally rolled naked together, sweaty. muscular and masculine. He was a tough bitch and I still couldn’t take him – but he took me, often and ferociously. Quite literally, too. He took me right there on the wrestling mats, fucking me the way a man uses his favorite sex toy, the same way he had for years. I loved it so much. As team captain, I always had my pick of the other wrestler’s tight little asses, but rarely had to give up my own – that’s how often I lost. But man, Coach could always do me, and do me right. He could fuck me hard on the soft mats and I always wanted more. I may’ve even shouted “I love you!” as he came inside me – I don’t remember, I was so lost in ecstasy. So lost in gratitude. I was Wrestling Matt, the Coach’s Favorite, a two-hundred fifteen pound state champion and fuck machine. And I loved it. Afterwards, I licked the mats clean and joined my Coach in the shower. END

Merry Christmas everybody! I've a story fresh off the presses that's Christmas themed. I tried to throw in a bit of growth for everyone. Plenty of weight gain, muscle growth, and even some macro in there with a bit of romantic fluff. I hope you all have a safe and happy holiday season and never stop growing. PS- The last chapter is loosely based off of a comic that the great artists Greggrth did called "Just Take One". Merry ChristMASS Chapter 1: The New Santa It started on Christmas Eve. They were all sleeping soundly in their beds when a mysterious figure arrived to deliver each of them a letter. As each man opened the letter and read it, they were blinded by a light that illuminated from the letter. Each of the men regained their sight in a large room with a cookie sitting in front of them. Looking from side to side, they each saw each other, and man clad in red from head to toe. “Hello gentlemen and welcome to the North Pole,” said the man. “What happened? A second ago I was reading a letter about some new job,” asked one of the men. “¿Qué?” said another. “Oops! I thought I forgot something.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s better. My name is David, and I will be your host for the duration of your stay here,” said David. “The North Pole? How did we get here?” exclaimed one of the men. “Well you see, each of you received a letter from myself asking about a job,” said David. “Yeah. It said something about becoming the next Santa Claus. I thought it was one of my friends playing a prank on me,” said one of the men as he bit into the cookie in front of him. “Not at all sir. I can assure you that this is all real. Each of you have been hand selected by me to be a candidate for the title of the new Santa Claus,” said David “Wait seriously? Santa Claus is real? I had always just kept up the charade for the children at the shelter, but I could never have imagined actually being asked to be the new Santa Claus,” said one of the men with glee. “Why did you select us specifically?” asked another. “Well let’s go down the line,” said David. He snapped his fingers and a scroll appeared in his hands. “First, there is Rafael from Brazil.” The Latino man perked at the hearing of his name. He was wearing a white button up night shirt and some pajama pants. At 5’8, he had a somewhat muscular build with a bit of a beer belly. “Born into poverty at a very early age, he struggled growing up to support himself and his siblings. With no parents to take care of them, he built a community of others that had been abandoned like them. He helped them. Fed them. Made sure their needs were met before taking care of his own. He established a shelter for anyone who were in need regardless of who they were.” “Then we have Peter.” The white man stood up when his name was said. He was about 6 feet tall and wore a pair of matching pajama pants and a shirt. He had a relatively slim build to him with very little muscle to be seen. “An all-American boy from the states. He was your typical kindhearted gentleman. What set him apart from the rest of America was his selflessness. Despite being born into a fortune, he dedicated his life to giving it all up to those who had nothing. Donating his money to charity and living the life of someone in poverty so that others would prosper.” “Next we have Bruno.” The middle eastern man rose to attention. He was wearing nothing but an old t-shirt and some boxers. At about 5’10, he had a muscular build to him. He looked like he could even compete in some body building contests. “When his country of Iraq was invaded, he was merely a boy and did not know what to do. Unlike many who fled, he saw the scourge of the war and wanted to help and make a difference. He studied to become a combat medic. Helping those who had fallen in battle regardless of who their allegiance was with.” “Lastly, we have Vincent.” The Asian man gave a small wave to the other three. At 5’5, he was definitely the shortest of the contestants. Wearing a Christmas themed onesie, he had an athletic build to him. Similar to one you’d see on a swimmer or a gymnast. “A man with a fairly normal upbringing in Japan, Vincent dedicated himself to volunteer work when he became an adult. Working for numerous non-profit organizations that deal with feeding those who are hungry and providing shelter for those in need. Rejecting what his parents expected of him as an adult and going into working for his community.” David snapped his fingers again and the scroll vanished. “You each have displayed the true meaning of Christmas throughout your lives. That it is better to give than it is to receive. Through your selfless actions, each of you have impacted many lives drastically and you are all true Saints.” The four of them looked at each other with surprised looks on all of their faces. “I understand that this is a lot to take in all at once, but do not worry, we have all of the time in the world. Literally. Father Time stops time for everyone else outside of the North Pole.” “What will becoming Santa Claus entail for us? Will we move here? What will our job be?” asked Peter. “You will be working here almost full time. Helping with toy manufacturing, the infamous naughty and nice list selections, and, of course, delivering all of the presents on Christmas. But don’t worry, you will be trained to do all of these things, but we just need to make sure to have an aptitude for it first,” said David. “How will we ever learn how to do all that?” asked Vincent. “Magic good sir! That’s how anything can get done around here. Everything we do in the North Pole is powered by magic that you will be taught how to use by one of the best magic users in existence. Myself.” “Way to be humble boss,” said a man as he walked in through two big red doors. “Joseph! You made it! Everyone, this is Joseph. He is the head of toy production here at the North Pole. You will be working very closely with him.” “Hello everyone. David can I talk to you for a second?” asked Joseph. “Sure. Here everyone,” David snapped his fingers, “have some cookies.” And the two of them left the room. “David, what are you doing? Where’s Nick?” asked Joseph. “Oh he’s been removed from service with us,” replied David as he tried to walk back in. “What? Drop the tour guide act. Who are these guys and where is Nick?” “Alright fine. He dumped me last night. I sent him to coal duty. These are his replacements.” “Get Nick out of there! We need him tonight!” “No! He can rot in the coal mines for all I care. One of them will be the new Santa.” “These are your rebound guys. Not the next Santa.” “We’d eventually need a replacement. And they are all suited for the job.” “What even are their qualifications?” “They are all charitable. Nice guys.” “David! “Okay! They’re all hot gay men who are selfless. It was a pretty quick magical search.” “I can’t believe you brought mortals here! What were you thinking?” “I was thinking that my husband of almost 2 centuries just dumped me and you weren’t picking up your phone when I was needing a hookup.” “So you just pop these random guys in here so that you can have a one night stand?” “Not exactly. We would need a replacement eventually. I can’t run this factory and deliver the presents every Christmas. One is fine, but more than that, I‘ll work myself to death. I need a partner.” “Alright fine. I’ll play this little game of yours.” “Hey, you can get something out of this too.” “What could I possibly get out of this?” “I know that Henry dumped you last decade and you’ve been lonely ever since. You get first runner up.” “Ugh you’re impossible.” Joseph started walking away. “You won’t be saying that after they go through the cookie test.” Joseph stopped in his tracks. “You’re doing that test.” David nodded his head. “Okay. I’ll go along with it as long as you play fair this time with that test.” “Deal.” The two shook hands and walked back towards the contestants. All unaware of what they had gotten themselves into. Chapter 2: Santa’s Workshop Back in the room, the four are getting settled in. Eating cookies and talking about each other’s lives. Their hobbies, their families, what they do to be so charitable. Their conversations were interrupted as their hosts walked back into the room. “Okay. If you all will follow us, we’ll get you to the workshop for one of our first tasks,” said David as he motioned them to follow him. They left the building that they were currently in and through the snow. “So we’re really in the North Pole sir?” asked Bruno. “Who’s this sir? I told you to call me David. Saint David if you want to get technical, but David is fine. And yes, you are. I transported you all from your respective homes through magic,” said David. “Is that how you deliver presents every Christmas Eve?” asked Peter. “In a way. Remember when I mentioned Father Time? Every Christmas Eve, he has agreed to stop time for us in order for all of the presents to be delivered. Old Saint Nick did use the reindeer from time to time, but ever since we made our deal with Father Time and I learned a little teleportation magic, it’s been easier this way.” “Couldn’t you just teleport all of the presents at once?” asked Vincent. “We tried that once. It was a disaster. Wrong presents were scattered across the globe,” said David “Yeah, that was a bad year. Everyone was generally mean that following year and it plunged the world into World War 1. And then there was Nick. He nearly blew up,” added Joseph. “Blew up? Santa Claus nearly blew up?” asked Rafael with concern. “He was fine. Nothing I couldn’t handle. But ever since then, we’ve just tasked Santa with being teleported to each home in order to ensure that each gift gets delivered properly,” said David. They finally made their way to a set of two large wooden doors. “Gentlemen, welcome to Santa’s Workshop.” David opened the doors, and they were met with a bright light as they entered the room. The men rushed to a railing in front of them and saw blinking lights, lifts, and conveyor belts moving toys all over the large room. Men in tight uniforms tinkering with toys below them. “Where are the elves?” asked Vincent. “Oh we got new elves a few decades ago. Far different from what you’ve seen in the media. As Christmas gained more popularity, the demand for bigger, better, and generally more presents became too much for the poor elves. We created a new type of elf in order to take their place. These new elves have the original strand of elf DNA with some dwarf thrown in for strength along with some human DNA for some height to them.” The men looked at the many muscular men that were clad in tight pants and tank tops. “And they’re pretty easy on the eyes.” “Getting back on track, this is where all of the toys are created,” said Joseph. “All of the elves are assigned a specific toy they need to make. They have supervisors that know everything about a group of toys and then each level of the chain of command is broader until you reach Santa and I. We each should be knowledgeable on all toys or any gift that someone might ask for from a teddy bear, to a PS5, to a dildo.” “I should get one of those for my husband,” said Peter. “Oh you have a husband Peter?” asked David. “Yeah. Michael and I have been together for 3 years now.” “Oh, how sweet. Want another cookie?” David snapped his fingers and a bigger cookie appeared. “Sure. These are delicious.” Peter grabbed the cookie and started eating. “Not a problem. Now to test you all a little bit.” David snapped his fingers and four doors appeared in front of them. “You will need to build a toy. Nothing too extravagant. Just a basic child’s toy,” said David. “Excuse me sir. I have no knowledge on how to build toys,” said Rafael. “This is a very basic toy that even some monkeys have been able to build. Joseph, take it away,” said David “Sure. You all will be creating a toy train. You will have 10 minutes to complete this and all of the tools you need are right in your room,” said Joseph. “Enter your rooms and we will begin,” said David. The men walked into their respective rooms. Each room was about 10x10 feet with an 8-foot-tall ceiling. In it, there was a table with various tools sitting on it. Each man took their seat behind the table and a screen appeared where the door just was. “3, 2, 1, Go!” flashed the screen. The men started to work on the trains. Bruno breezed through this task as performing surgery multiple times on people has prepared him to work with his hands on this task. Vincent also picked up on the train and the mechanics of it all. Rafael took his time on figuring out how each piece fit together but was making good progress. Peter however was having an increasingly more difficult time with putting the toy together. Hearing soft sounds from below him as he continued to put everything together. So focused in on the task in front of him, he did not notice his ball gut growing below him. He was only brought back to reality when his pajamas he had been wearing started to ride up on him. He looked down and clutched his gurgling gut as the sounds got louder and louder. He felt it pulse outward with each release. His shirt riding up on his torso as his belly fought for more space. “Excuse me David, I think I have a problem he-“ *GLOOOOOOOOORRPPPP* Peter clutched his belly as it ran into the table with that burst. The only response that was given to Peter was a blinking number on the screen saying, “7 minutes”, seemingly unaware of Peter’s grievance. Peter looked back down at his train and tried to continue as his gut only grew bigger. “What did you do to him?” asked Joseph, seeing the display going on in Peter’s room through the one-sided screen they put on the wall. “Oh nothing. Just wanted a little show before he leaves. I also realized I should have put another stipulation in the magical search. Hot, gay, selfless, and SINGLE. I’m no homewrecker. Once he loses this challenge, he’ll go back to his husband,” said David “Okay, but why’d you have to do this to him?” asked Joseph as he motioned to the ever-expanding gut on Peter that has swelled to the size of a beach ball. “Oh that’s for him and his husband. I saw that the two of them are into the inflation fetish so it’s an “I’m sorry for almost stealing your husband” gift,” said David. Snapping his fingers again, a new phrase appeared in front of the contestants, “5 Minutes”. Peter saw the screen’s warning and was getting worried. His belly had only been growing since the first warning. Letting out more gurgles as his gut started to push the table away from him. He could feel his fingers begin to chub up as he tried to work. Becoming too sausage like to work with the tiny parts. His shirt and pants began to rip as he gained more and more weight. “What is happening to me?” *BBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTT* came his stomach as it surged forward knocking over the table. “I know I had a few of those cookies,” *GLOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRPPPPPPP* His stomach hit the floor with that one. “But Rafael had way more!” *SWEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL* His stomach reaching the other end of the room and forcing Peter to fall out of his chair. David snapped his fingers to reveal a new message that read “2 Minutes”. Peter no longer cared about the competition. He was consumed by his growth. His body had reached immense proportions. His clothes had become just pieces of fabric thanks to his ever-growing form. Now standing up, Peter’s stomach rested flat on the floor and was getting closer and closer to the ceiling. “Fuck it!” *SWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLL* “If I’m gonna be big,” *BBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTT* “I’m gonna be fucking big!” *GLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPP* Peter had fully embraced his belly as he filled the small room. His gut pressing into the ceiling and beginning to press into the walls. With his back presses up against the wall behind him, he could feel the pressure of each wall pushing against his belly. “It’s getting a little cramped in here!” *SWWWWWWWWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLL* “Please stop!” *BBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT* “I’m gonna burst!” *GLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP* He braced himself when the pressure became too immense when suddenly he heard a bell. “Times up!” David snapped his fingers and doors appeared again on the rooms. The other three men walked out of their room with their finished products. David and Joseph walked by each contestant judging their work. “Excellent job Bruno, love your attention to detail,” said David. “Good work Vincent. A solid train,” said Joseph. “Rafael, your train leaves a bit to be desired. But with some practice, I’m sure you’ll be a master in no time,” said David. “Hey, where’s Peter?” asked Bruno. The five men turned to look at the unopened door. David walked up to the door and turned the knob. The door immediately swung open to reveal a wall of flesh pouring out of the doorway. “Peter, how are you doing in there?” asked David. Peter felt a bit of the pressure be relieved from his stomach when the door opened, and some of him got out. “Uh well, I’ve been better,” came a muffled voice from behind the fat. “Do you think you can get out of there?” asked David. “I don’t think so. It’s a pretty tight fit in here,” again came the voice from the doorway. “Alright then. I’m gonna get you unstuck then. You all should probably stand back,” said David as the four men took some steps back. David snapped his fingers and there was a loud *GGGGGGGGGGGGGGLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP*. The wall tore down like it was paper by the belly that surged out of the tiny room. The gut even broke down the walls of the other rooms as it fought for more space. “Couldn’t you have just broken the wall down yourself?” asked Joseph. “Of course I could’ve, but this way was more fun. James! Francis! Would you come get Peter out?” Two 6’6, well-muscled elves appeared on each side of Peter. They grabbed at the fat and pulled. With loud pop, Peter flopped out of the room. “Wait, that’s Peter? All of that is Peter?” said a perplexed Rafael. The once slim man had morphed into a large orb of lard that was well over 15 feet tall. The two men rolled the ball of a man over so that the others could see the rest of his body. “I’m sorry to say, but Peter, for not completing your train, you have been eliminated from the competition. Any parting words?” asked David “Not at all! This is incredible! It’s an honor just to be nominated!” yelled out Peter. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Now Francis and James will escort you out.” The two men got on one side of Peter and started to roll the overinflated man out. The other contestants started with a mixture of shock and lust as Peter left them. “Now gentlemen, shall we continue on with our tour?” Chapter 3: Naughty & Nice David and Joseph led the men out of the workshop as Peter was rolled out the way they came. Knocking down doors like he’s a bowling ball with him being far too large to fit in. The three looked back at the trail of destruction left in the orb’s path until David snapped his fingers and everything was back to normal. “What happened to him?” asked Rafael. “He simply did not have the right stuff to become the next Santa Claus,” replied David. “So you were gonna make him explode?!?” exclaimed Vincent. “Oh not at all. That was a little parting gift from me. Most people have fantasies they’d love to live out, but the confines of reality are harsh for some and they can’t. That all changes when you have magic,” said David as he led the group to a new room. “So you can make it so that we can live out our wildest dreams?” asked Bruno. “Indeed I can. The only difference with Peter is that this will be one fantasy, if you are to be Santa Claus, then this will be a regular occurrence if you’d like and all of your fantasies can come true,” said David. “Coming from someone who has been on the other side of David’s magic, I can confirm that the fantasies he can weave are spectacular. And everything can be reversed if you’d like. Peter will deflate after a while, but he’ll be able to grow himself at will to that size when he wishes,” said Joseph “Yes. I have done favors for my friends around the North Pole and I’ve had great reviews from all. You’d be surprised with the fantasies that are bouncing around in a person’s mind,” said David. The three men stood stunned. All thinking about what they’d all do if they were given the opportunity. “We’re here,” said David as he opened up two large wooden doors to reveal an office like space. “This is where you will be assigning everyone a ranking of naughty or nice.” “Oh so this is real? I always thought that everyone got what they wanted?” asked Vincent. “That is somewhat true. Unlike what is assumed of the nice and naughty list, and about most things, this is a spectrum. Not everyone is 100% nice or 100% naughty. We go off of how good or bad someone is in total and rank them on a scale from 0, the naughtiest, to 100, the nicest. Most people fall into the range of 40-60 from year to year with some people’s rank being changed from year to year.” “Who are the people that are on the very bottom of the list? The 0 rankings?” asked Bruno. “Those would be the worst of all people. The rapists, the pedophiles, those who commit genocide. Some notable names on the bottom would be Hitler, Christopher Columbus, and Donald Trump,” said Joseph as David pulled out a long list. “And the good end?” asked Vincent. “A much better list in my opinion. Those are the people who are notoriously good and selfless. Those who help the needy and save those in need. You three and Peter are all notable people on the lists along with Oprah Winfrey, Abraham Lincoln, and many Saints,” said David as he put the list away. He snapped his fingers and three doors appeared leading into separate rooms again. “Your task will be assigning people a rank based on the information we show you. This will not impact how they’ve actually been ranked, but a test to see how each of you morally see people.” “Will we each get the same person to rank?” asked Rafael. “Not at all. This is actually my favorite part. You will each be getting people that are significant to you. It could be your parents, a sibling, a best friend, that is for the machine to decide. Now each of you head into your rooms and we will begin the test.” The three men turned to face their doors and walked in. They each were greeted by a circular object on the floor. Each of them approached the object when it suddenly lit up a hologram. Rafael was met with his brother Fernando. Vincent was met with his mother Diane. And Bruno saw his best friend Assad. “What are you gonna do now? Some of them might have significant others,” said Joseph. “Well, first things first, I’m looking up these guys again. Rafael and Vincent are both single so that’s good. Bruno’s situation is…unique,” said David. “Unique how?” “Let’s just say this is one fantasy that needs to be granted.” David snapped his fingers and appeared in the room Bruno was in. He walked up behind Bruno admiring the stunning hologram of his best friend. The man was dressed in military gear from his head to toe. You could tell that beneath his clothes, there was a significant amount of muscle. “He seems like a great guy. Tell me about him,” said David as he paused the video recording and enhanced the image onto Assad. “He’s the best. Courageous and strong while also sweet and caring. He’s my best friend in the entire world. He always tries to protect anyone that he can in combat. Even if that means that I’ll have to stitch him up later. But I can always fix him up like brand new.” Bruno reminisced their time together as David continued to work on the hologram machine. “Yes, but I know you’d like to be more than just friends,” said David with a snap. Suddenly the hologram of Assad was a real person. He was still stuck in position, but he was in the room with them. “What? No. That’s absurd. I’m not gay. That’s an act punishable by death,” snapped back Bruno. “Bruno, magic doesn’t lie. I did some research on you before I brought you here. It revealed that you’ve had unrequited love for him since basic training but chose to shove it down out of fear.” Bruno sank into himself with the words that left David’s mouth. Everything he was saying was true. “But luckily for you, I did some research on Assad as well. He had the same story with you. You are each madly in love with each other but will not admit it to one another.” “I know.” This response surprised David. “I’ve always known. We’ve had an unspoken connection for as long as we’ve been friends. But what can I do about it? It’s illegal in Iraq.” “Well I had an idea about that.” David took the hologram’s hand and brought him over to Bruno. “You said he was a protector, right? Well now he will protect you against anyone who might try to separate the two of you. He cannot attack anyone, but he will be your shield from anyone who might hurt you. He will be your shield.” Bruno turned to face his friend. He only saw a small change at first. His already snug clothes were clinging to his muscles. His gaze began to look up more as the eyes grew towards the ceiling. Slowly, but surely, his head rose above the other two men in the room. Passing 7-feet tall quickly and looking to pass 8 feet shortly. The already well-muscled man was gaining pounds of muscle by the second. His pecs poking bulging out of the shirt. And with a “POP”, Bruno heard the buttons on the uniform begin to lose their battle with the growing chest. One by one, button after button started to rip off. Exposing more of Assad’s torso. His shoulders had broadened immensely and brought a lot of growth to his chest. Each one looked as if they were the size of dictionaries and just as thick. Bruno and David’s attention was brought away from his pec’s by a loud “RRRRRRRIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPP”. Right along the long sleeves, his bicep had just ripped through the sleeve. The man’s arm had grown to the size of a cantaloupe and continued to pack on size, soon reaching the size of a basketball. “He’s incredible,” said Bruno as he walked up to the growing man. Another loud “RRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPP” was heard. This time from behind the Adonis. Walking around him, Bruno got a view of his incredible backside that had begun to break out of the painted on pants. The ass had been growing out of sight and David had taken extra care with preparing the bubble butt. Not only was the booty muscular, it had enough fat in it so that it rounded out to give him a perfect round ass. Which only seemed to be pumping bigger. His hips had widened for his backside to grow more. Each cheek was easily the size of a pumpkins and still pumping up bigger. Assad’s pants finally lost their battle and fell to the floor when out sprung a foot-long cock from his underwear with grapefruit sized balls to match. Bruno walked back to the front to see the python his friend had. Reaching out to touch it, Bruno felt the still soft cock stir as he made contact with it. It quickly was both growing and hardening. Quickly filling Bruno’s hand, the cock continued to lengthen. Feeling the dick throb as it thickened so much that Bruno could no longer wrap his whole hand around it. By the time the cock was fully hard, it was easily 2 feet long, if not longer. As the growth seemed to come to a halt, Bruno stepped back from Assad. His height leveling out at about 9 feet tall, he dwarfed both Bruno and David. His once tight uniform was now reduced to shreds of fabric on the ground. “David, I can’t thank you enough for this,” said Bruno as he examined the overgrown man. “Don’t thank me quite yet,” said David as he snapped his fingers. Immediately, Assad’s pecs jumped out at them. His torso exploded with more size. Broadening even more, his pecs went from dictionary big to king sized pillow big and twice as thick. Each nipple now the size of a silver dollar and pointing straight down. But as Bruno examined the nipples, he saw a little droplet forming on it. “Milk?” said Bruno as he walked up to the newly developed pec shelf. He put a finger up to the nipple and let little white drops fall onto him. He puts the finger in his mouth and his eyes light up. “Oh my God! This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever drank,” said Bruno as he cupped his hands under the tit and began slurping up more and more. Bruno’s own body began to grow as he continued to drink. No longer using his hand, he put his mouth to the nipple and the clear liquid flowed into his mouth. His own body being pumped up like a water balloon. Starting with a small gut in front of him and spreading all over his body. Seemingly unaware of the changes to his body, Bruno continued to drink from Assad’s pecs. Bruno was only brought back to reality when he heard a loud “RRRIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPP”. This time from his own clothes. His own transformation had happened much faster than Assad’s. He was 7 feet tall already with muscles to match. He had ripped out of his shirt and boxers quickly and he continued to inflate with size. His muscles reaching the same proportions as Assad’s but with one major difference. Unlike Assad’s rock hard 12-pack, Bruno had a bulging milk gut. He poked it and could feel all of the milk inside him. He moved his mouth to the other pec as the other one seemed to have deflated from all of his sucking. By the time Bruno had finished his drink from the other pec, he was just a few inches shorter than Assad. He looked down at David. “What can I do to ever repay you?” “Nothing. It’s what I do. Remember what happened to Peter, how I granted him his fantasy? Well this one is yours. Some fantasies are purely sexual, and others are ones of romance,” David snapped his fingers one last time. Bruno heard a snapping sound and looked to see Assad’s cock sprang forward. It must’ve been 4 feet long now. He also looked to Assad’s glutes now to see they had grown bigger than tires. “With just a hint of sexual.” At that moment, Assad started to move from his statue like trance. He looked all around him. He was no longer in his bedroom. “Woah! What’s happening? Where am I?” said the confused giant. “Assad! Everything’s alright!” yelled back Bruno. “Bruno? What are you doing here? Why do my nipples feel so sore?” “Don’t worry about that, but the only thing I want to tell you now is that I love you, you big lug!” Bruno latched onto his big friend with a big bear hug. “Bruno.” Assad returned Bruno’s embrace, “I love you too, but we can’t be together. You know that.” “But we can now. David, tell him,” shouted Bruno. “I’ll fill him in,” said David as he snapped his fingers. Instantly, Assad’s eyes filled with joy. He immediately kissed Bruno. “I’m so happy. I’ll finally be able to show how much I really care about you Bruno.” The giant’s eye started to tear up. “Come on you two. You’ll have plenty of time to do that, but for now I have to get you back,” said David. Assad and Bruno walked out of the room holding hands. Both giants took a note from Peter’s book and broke down the door. Joseph, Vincent, and Rafael were waiting outside for them. They were all perplexed when two 9-foot-tall naked men came out of the room. “What happened in there?” asked Joseph. “I’ll explain everything later. Francis! James! Will you escort these two gentlemen somewhere where they can speak in private?” The same two men walked in from before. They led Bruno and Assad away. “Oh and when they’re done, send them home. And then there were two. So shall we continue on to our final test?” Chapter 4: The Gift That Keeps on Giving David led the remaining men down a long hallway. All of the others were utterly confused about what they just saw in front of them. Each of them wondering what possible fantasy Bruno must’ve had in order for him to emerge a giant with another unknown giant on his arm. They all approached a large metallic door. “Excuse me David. You never mentioned what our final task would be,” said Vincent. David opened the doors to the outside where they began walking in the snow again. “Your final task will determine how well you can perform the real duty of Santa Claus. It might come as a bit of a surprise to you. What most people don’t understand is the amount of cookies you’ll need to eat as Santa. This will test how much of this sugary sweet treat you can stomach.” “Bring it. I’ve loved all the cookies you’ve served so far,” said Rafael. “Yes, but that has only been a few cookies. Santa must consume millions of cookies in one night. We’ve managed to solve most of the problems with magic, however this has not been one of them,” said David. “Can’t you just throw the cookies away?” asked Vincent. “We’ve tried. It’s never gone well. The first year we tried it, the following year was World War II. Then we tried it again to test if it was a fluke or not and then the Vietnam War happened. It’s just bad luck not to,” said Joseph. “What if you were to get rid of them with magic. with magic?” asked Rafael. “My magic is very good at creating things, hence why I am one of the biggest givers of all time. It is not engineered to destroy,” said David. “And this is why they all must be eaten. Remember the story I told you about a while ago? How Santa nearly blew up? That’s what happens when someone eats millions of cookies in an instant.” The men walked up to a cottage and entered. There they found a plate of fresh cookies waiting for them. “This will be a test of stamina, not speed. But I wanted to make things a bit more interesting. Once the plate in front of you has been eaten, many more plates of cookies will spawn all over the North Pole. But there will be a plate with special properties to it once you start eating,” said David. “What kind of properties?” asked Rafael. “You will have to figure that out for yourself,” said David. “How will a winner be crowned?” asked Vincent. “David and I will be keeping track of how many cookies are eaten by the two of you. The contest will be over when neither of you can stomach another cookie. After that, David and I will crown a winner based on the number of cookies you each ate.” said Joseph. “You may begin eating when ready,” said David and with a snap, him and Joseph were gone. The two men sat down at the table in front of them facing each other. Rafael was the first one to reach for a cookie. “Well cheers I guess,” said Rafael. “Cheers,” responded Vincent as he also grabbed a cookie. The two bit into the cookies and let out an “Mmm” in unison. “These are so good!” said Rafael. He shoved the rest of the cookie into his mouth and grabbed at the pile again for more. “Are you sure you don’t want more?” asked Rafael in between bites. “David said this contest was about stamina, not speed,” said Vincent. “Suit yourself URP” Rafael burped as he rubbed his belly. As Vincent finished his first cookie, his eyes were brought to Rafael when he heard a low rumble coming from the man’s stomach. Suddenly, Vincent saw Rafael’s body began to inflate. The sleeves around his arms seemed to tighten, the buttons on his shirt tightened from his large pecs, his shirt riding up and revealing a large gut that pressed into the table. “What the hell?!?” yelled Vincent as he saw the man gain about 50 pounds in a few seconds. “Huh?” Rafael looked down at his body. He saw nothing but his bloated tits when he looked down. “Woah,” said Rafael in awe. He lifted his arm up and flexed it. He watched the strains of fabric be pushed to their limit as the ball of muscle grew. “Dude…what did you do? You got-” “Big.” Rafael continued to admire his body. Putting his hand under his newly grown pecs and feeling the weight of them. “I’m huge!” Rafael stopped groping himself and locked eyes with the table. “But how? Is David doing some kind of magic on you?” Rafael reached his hand out to the table and grabbed a handful of cookies and shoved them into his mouth. “Bigger,” was all that left his lips when another loud groan was heard from the man’s stomach. Rafael grew much quicker this time. His head slowly rose up as he smiled feeling the growth spread. His gut grew out onto the table. Inflating quickly like a yoga ball. A loud “POP” rang through the air as his top button flew across the room. One by one, each button revealed more and more the man’s glorious chest. Each pec reaching the size of suitcases and continued to gain pounds. Another loud sound was heard by the men as Rafael’s fat ass ripped apart his pajamas. His ass and thunder thighs shredding the fabric like a piece of paper. With his pants gone, Rafael’s cock was freed, and it flopped down onto the floor under the man’s rounded belly. The beast lengthening under the table toward Vincent as it was now well over 6 feet long and thicker than . Seeing that the giant was growing closer to him, Vincent stood up from his seat and backed away from him. “Rafael! You need to stop growing!” As his transformation continued, Vincent heard a loud crash as the giant’s ass hit the ground. The chair that had been supporting him had snapped like a twig under his growing weight. “So big,” said Rafael as his transformation came to a halt. He was sitting on the ground and was a head taller than Vincent. His own head just inches away from the ceiling of the cottage they were in. “I need more!” said Rafael as he reached for the tray of cookies. “More?! Rafael you can’t be serious? You can’t even fit through the door!” screamed Vincent as he tried to grab the cookies before Rafael could, but it was too late. “Vincent, I’ve always wanted to be bigger.” Rafael grabbed the cookies and threw them all back into his open mouth. “Besides, David can fix whatever we do with magic.” With a gulp, the cookies hit the behemoths belly. “Yes! More!” Rafael began to grow again. Every inch of him packing on 50 pounds per second. His stomach charging forward toward Vincent like a locomotive as his head hit the ceiling. Under his impressive stomach, Rafael’s cock also lurched forward. Pressing Vincent into the wall behind him. “Rafael! Please stop and let me get out!” Vincent felt the now 9-foot-long cock continue to pulse with growth as the weight pushed against him. “Too late little guy,” said Rafael as his head started cracking the ceiling. Vincent looked up for a moment as the cock pinned him to the wall only to see a ballooning belly be pushed into his face. From the outside of the house, the walls seemed to bulge out in every direction. The first sight of Rafael’s body was his head poking out of the ceiling of the cottage. Next his massive belly and cock took their toll on the wall and they spilled out onto the snow outside. Then there was Rafael’s ass that had been steadily growing behind him. It pushed through the walls both behind it and on its side. Lastly to burst free were his arms. On each side of the cottage, his arms broke down the walls and brought themselves into a double bicep flex. Finally the entire cottage was brought down as his pecs broke the remaining parts of the roof that hadn’t been destroyed by his head and shoulders bursting through. Holding tightly to the head of Rafael’s cock, Vincent fell out onto the snow as the growing dick grew. He shimmied his way out from under the behemoth and stood up to see Rafael. He was a true giant. Sitting down, he was easily two stories tall, if not three, and looked like he weighed two tons. A lot of that weight was in his fat gut. The orb of a belly was far taller than Vincent was. It was like he had swallowed a car. “Haha, now we’re talking,” laughed Rafael as he groped his newly grown body. “I’m so massive. But I want to be bigger.” Vincent heard the giant’s deep voice and remembered the other cookies that David had put out across the North Pole. In an instant, Rafael’s big body got up from the ground and began sprinting and looking down for more plates of cookies. “I need MORE!” “I’ve gotta find another plate of cookies before he gets any bigger.” Vincent started running toward the Naughty and Nice building he was just in. Rushing in and looking around for a platter of cookies. Seeing nothing, he ran out another door and sitting just outside the door on a pedestal was an even bigger plate of cookies. “Yes! I beat him here!” said Vincent as he began shoveling cookie after cookie into his mouth. “Hey Vincent!” came a shout from the distant. Vincent turned his head as he continued chewing on cookies. “Oh no! He found me!” Vincent grabbed the plate of cookies and ran back into the building. Thunderous steps shook everything around Vincent as Rafael descended his huge body onto the building. Vincent saw his massive arm reach in through the door, but he was too far away for him to reach. Vincent still felt worried that Rafael could do what he did to that cottage and tear down this building to get to the cookies. “Come on now Vincent. Christmas is about giving. So give me some of those cookies!” yelled Rafael as he looked inside the building. “Why aren’t they working?” cried Vincent as he polished the last cookie off the plate. Right after the words left his mouth, he heard his stomach let out a low growl. “Oh.” Vincent’s belly quickly inflated inside his Christmas onesie. Rips forming all over his body as pounds were added on every second. “This,” Vincent’s pecs ripped through the neck hole. “Feels,” His ass burst apart the seat of his pants. “So,” His cock ripping out the front of his pants with a nice pair of balls to match. “Incredible!” His head skyrocketing toward the ceiling. “Vincent, what’s going on in there?” asked Rafael from outside the door. He couldn’t see clearly into the room, but suddenly his nose was met with a wall of flesh. “Bigger.” Rafael backed away from the door and saw cracks forming in the walls. “Bigger!” Vincent’s cock lurched out the doorway and hit Rafael. Landing him on his ass. “BIGGER!” Vincent’s entire body broke out from the building, leaving it in ruins. Rafael looked up at the new giant that Vincent had become. From the bottom up, Vincent’s cock was bigger than a house with balls bigger than cars. His hairless gut resembled the size of blimp and above it sat two massive slabs of meat known as pecs. Each one was bigger than 18-wheelers and twice as thick. Vincent’s head was now higher than any building around them in the North Pole. “He’s massive!” Rafael got up out of the snow and reveled in Vincent’s size. “Haha. I see why you were so eager to get your hands on more of those cookies. The feeling you get when you grow is indescribable,” said Vincent as he brought one of his biceps up and flexed. The ball of muscle growing bigger than Vincent’s own head. “I’ve gotta find more,” said Rafael under his breath. He looked around and saw the workshop they had just been in for the train exercise. Scrambling to get there, he ripped off the roof to see another tray of cookies, this time on a golden plate. “Hey! You get back here!” yelled Vincent as he ran towards Rafael. Rafael looked back and saw Vincent lunging toward him. He turned his back to Vincent and swallowed all of the cookies in one gulp. He threw the plate into the snow as he felt a new transformation coming on. “Gotcha!” said Vincent as he grabbed onto Rafael’s smaller shoulders. “Not for long,” said Rafael. He straightened his back as his body sored into the sky. Rafael’s ass was the only thing that Vincent could see growing. The already fat ass quickly bulged back into Vincent’s cock. Vincent instantly felt his cock harden as Rafael’s ass plumped up bigger and bigger. He couldn’t resist and shoved his cock head into Rafael’s ass. “Fuck” yelled Rafael as Vincent penetrated him. His own cock getting hard as he felt his ass grow further back into the cock. “I’m sorry man. I’ve been eying your ass ever since we got here and the way it was growing, I had to fuck it,” said Vincent as he started to thrust more of his cock into Rafael’s welcoming hole. “You’re good. I have to admit that I did think you were cute when we appeared in the North Pole.” “And now?” “Now? You’re fucking hot!” Rafael’s transformation seemed to subside as the two of them got started full on fucking. Rafael had stopped at just a bit bigger than Vincent, but he didn’t mind. Vincent’s 20-foot-long cock was big enough to satisfy the 60-foot-tall man. Vincent picked up the pace as he thrusted harder and harder into Rafael. The indent of his cock being seen bulging out of Rafael’s stomach. In the midst of their hot sex session, Vincent looked down and saw the plate of cookies that Rafael had tossed to the side from his previous growth spurt. It was now full! Vincent smirked as he leaned over, grabbed the plate of cookies, poured them into his free hand, and fed them to Rafael as he moaned. “Gobble these up for me.” Rafael didn’t need to be told twice. He swallowed the cookies with ease and smiled as he heard a familiar gurgle from his stomach. Rafael again shot up in height. “Bigger!” shouted Rafael. His body bulged out in all directions. His gut plowed forward destroying the toy factory below as his ass bubbled out behind him. Vincent was met with Rafael’s ass growing tighter and tighter on his cock. Vincent’s thrusting became animalistic as he grabbed Rafael’s fat ass cheeks in his hands. Massaging and squeezing them, Vincent couldn’t hold the flood gates back any longer. “Fuuuuuuuuuck!” cried Vincent as his balls seized up and cum filled Rafael’s already enormous belly. Vincent’s torrent of jizz seemed endless as Rafael continued to grow both from the cookies and the slow filling of his guts. Rafael felt Vincent’s jets start to lighten up as his growth tapered off. “That’s all you got pretty boy?” challenged Rafael. Vincent himself felt his balls beginning to empty as the cum shots began to slow down. He looked down at his hand and saw the plate. It was full of cookies again. “It refills itself!” A devilish grin sprouted on Vincent’s face. He threw his hand back into his mouth, swallowing the plate and all. “Be ready for the fucking of a century big guy!” Vincent heard a gurgle from his stomach and resumed ramming his cock into Rafael. Rafael felt Vincent’s cock begin thrusting into him again, with more passion than ever. Each thrust felt like Vincent was going deeper and deeper every time. “Now you’re talking!” He felt Vincent’s cum shots regain their previous strength. Rafael’s belly now growing much faster as cum flooded his system. Everything took a turn when Rafael saw the imprint of Vincent’s dick in his already massive stomach. Each thrust pushing out further and further as he continued to be filled up like a cum balloon. “What are you gonna do now? Vincent just ate the magic plate and he’s growing out of control,” said Joseph. David and Joseph were watching the entire display go down from a couch. Each of them naked and jerking each other’s cocks “Oh don’t you worry about that. In a little bit, Vincent’s cum should be meeting the cookies that Rafael ate,” said David “Why does that matter?” asked Rafael. “It’s milk. There will always be the combo of milk and cookies, not just cookies. When Vincent’s “milk” soaks the cookies, they reactivate themselves. So as long as Vincent keeps cumming, Rafael will grow with him,” replied David as he jerked his cock. “Now watch. I think things are about to get good.” Vincent had begun growing and hadn't stopped. Merely muttering “More” and “Bigger” as his body expands across the North Pole. The pair feel the ice cracking below them as their weight becomes too much even for the ice to handle them. Rafael meanwhile is becoming more and more ball like while Vincent’s jizz seems unending. “Vincent! You’ve gotta pull out! I feel like I’m gonna explode!” yelled Rafael as his limbs disappeared into his growing belly. Vincent in such a faze of lust could barely register that Rafael was talking. It was only when the ice below them broke when Vincent came back to reality. “Huh? Oh yeah. Sorry little guy.” Vincent pulled his growing cock out from Rafael’s ass and spun the orbs around so that he could see his face. “I got a little carried away. Guess that can happen when you’re the biggest being in existence” Vincent’s cock seemed to stop shooting jets as the cold water below him cooled him off. His body continued to grow away from the Rafael ball. His body crushing mountains all over the North Pole without him even knowing. Vincent picked up Rafael as he shrank below him. Becoming lighter and lighter in his hands. “How do you feel?” asked Vincent as he put Rafael in one of his palms. “Like I could explode. I don’t feel so- UUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP” Rafael let out the biggest burp anyone had ever heard. It could be felt at all corners of the globe, but then it started. He was growing and he was growing fast. He quickly outgrew the giant’s hand and he landed in the Northern Atlantic Ocean. Sending tidal waves out from his body. Rafael’s body regaining its shape as his limbs reappear and quickly approaching Vincent’s size. “Who were you calling little guy, little guy?” said Rafael as his size surpassed Vincent’s. Each of their bodies effortlessly crushing the Northern Hemisphere. Unaware of their own size, the two resumed their fucking. Both growing in spurts as they outgrew the whole Earth. “Ouch!” cried Vincent as something struck the back of his head. He looked back and saw that he had bonked his head on the moon. Grabbing the satellite in his hand and watching it shrink in his hands as the two men watched the Earth fade away. One by one, every planet passed by the two planet sized men. “How much bigger are we gonna get?” asked Rafael as Vincent continued to cum inside him. “I don’t know, but I don’t care! Keep it going! I want to be bigger than the whole galaxy!” yelled Vincent as another spurt came over him. Rafael simply smiled as he accepted his new reality of being pumped full of cum just for his body to break it down and make him grow bigger. It’s gonna be a happy life. For more updates, story ideas, or general MG stuff, Follow my twitter: https://twitter.com/Musclesaber

My scientist friend was working on a secret project, and it only came to light shortly after he died, in mysterious circumstances. It was revealed to me in a note he left me, where he begged me to be who he couldn’t. The note didn’t say much, besides his plead, and a single instruction: to put the dogtag attached to the note. So I did, and so it began. My body was covered in thick metal as I screamed until the heavy cocoon hid my body from the world. I knew something massive was happening to me, for the sake of my diseased brother I didn’t want to fight it, but Fought I did, until I couldn’t, Immobilized I was. Even covered from head to toe, I was awaken the whole process, and I could experience it, the transformation. The acid metal corroded my lab coat, my shirt, my pants and trousers, until I was fully exposed, only the dogtag that started it all still pended beside me. I started to grow, slowly and massively, my muscles were developing, much was necessary to transform me into a beast, and yet this was happening, my pecs expanded and I felt my bones breaking, reassembling, changing, thickening, just like my hard muscles. My flat abdomen was utterly changed, the muscles strengthened inside me, the skin fighting to keep up with my new form. My legs grew tight in the cocoon as they transformed into colossus of meat and power, my bones reassembled and changed as my mind was bathed with thoughts and feelings I never experienced before. This transformation was changing my core. My scientific knowledge, my culture, my previous passions, all gave away to strengthen, duty, glory, war. Be a good soldier, transform for the sake of your brother in arms. Flex your arms and punch with vigor! Roar the BattleCry, and so I did, and as I did, again and again, my cocoon changed, and started to fuse into my body officially. My skin was gone, my bare muscles were in contact with the metal that now was my new cover, my natural armory. My hair was gone, and through my skull the iron merged into my bones, changing them deeply, causing me to grow powerful horns, my new symbol of virility. My cock grew beyond any natural proportion and his power as the spreader of my seed, my blood, grew. When It finished, the previously rough metal was now smooth as part of my being. I weighted tons and felt the strength of the gods above. My chest was wide, muscular, raw, my nipples pending down, dripping my seed through them, showing how much I’ve changed. My abs were powerful and I felt my new anatomy with my wide, powerful hands. I had the shoulders of the gods now, capable of supporting great weight, ability I was eager to test, as I’d like to carry those petty men in my new powerful back now. To be their eternal servant. Their bull. I had the horns, had the strength, had the vigor. I was deeply and truly changed. A different kind of testosterone flew through my veins, and I had to explore my manhood. I played with my giant cock, so hard it was, so sensitive. It was dripping precum already, as I caressed gently the powerful instrument of pleasure. I slowly roared as my movements became less kind, until finally I was fucking myself and groaning with indescribable pleasure. And then I came, jets and jets of silver came from my body, product of my powers. Sealing the pact, finally making clear I was beyond a man now. I was Dr. Atomic.

(Hello, friends! I'm posting this CLASSIC ABSMAN story in anticipation of posting the erotic novel that grew out of it. POLLINATION has inspired two comic book adaptations and a slew of fanfic! If this is your first time in the Garden, take your time to stop and smell the flowers...) POLLINATION by absman420 If you expected dumb ol' Mike Milliano to explain the growth-rate of local real estate or the sudden value of property in this traditionally rural area -- you know, the BIG picture -- you were expecting far too much. All Mike Milliano understood was that he had work framing houses for the next twenty weeks, and that it paid enough for him to live through the construction worker's off-season. Other than that, all Mike Milliano cared about was his pick-up truck, his next beer, and what little pussy he could find in this shit-ass flyspeck of a town. He knew this area well, where he grew up. As a boy, Mike and his buddies used to come up here and ride their dirt bikes. It'd been unspoiled land then, lightly forested. If anybody'd actually owned it, he didn't know who -- maybe one of the few farmers that had dotted the landscape in those days -- didn't matter. Now here he was as an adult, clearing that same land, building houses for snotty rich folks who had no history, no connection at all. He tried to pretend he wasn't feeling nostalgia when he slipped away during his lunch hour to walk through the nearby woods. Real men controlled their emotions. Now, sitting at the base of an old oak tree that overlooked a steep, forested slope, Mike Milliano smoked a cigarette and reflected. He wasn't a big man, although he wasn't in bad shape -- working construction kept him fit enough, if he'd hadn't been losing his battle with beer -- but nothing like when he'd played ball in high school. Now, a soft gut rolled over the top of his jeans, and though it bothered him, he did nothing to change it. He still had good, thick arms, and showed them off when he could, but he'd definitely lost his edge. He'd kept his attitude, though. A gruff, unforgiving, obstinate man, he fought as often as he fucked. And he got the same peculiar satisfaction from each. Smirking, Mike removed his well-worn baseball cap and wiped his forehead with the back of one heavily callused hand. Nothing in this old forest but memories, he thought. Time to head back to work. As he was about to stand, a particular flower caught his eye. Now, Mike Milliano was not the type of guy that normally noticed plants -- to him, flowers were just another tool to get into some chick's pants -- but this was like nothing he'd ever seen before. The way it was shaped, it looked like a big dick stickin' up out of the ground. Tube-shaped, like a Venus Flytrap a little, but with the gentle curve of its blossom, it looked exactly like a half-erect cock. A big cock, no less -- the flower was about a foot long. The base was a deep red, which veined its way up until it reached the soft pink "head" -- which was really just a little fold of petal over the end of the bud. When he got close enough, he noticed the half-exposed bulb in the ground, appearing as the flower's swollen ball-sac. He snorted a simple laugh. It's a shame he didn't have a camera -- none of the guys would believe this -- a flower that looks like a dick. He could probably make something off a picture like that. He caught the fragrance in a couple of steps -- frankly, it smelled like old sex, sort of pungent and spicy. All that did was increase his amusement -- it didn't just look like a big ol' dick, it smelled like one, too. Squatting down next to the plant, careful that his workboots didn't accidentally crush it, Mike Milliano leaned in. Certainly, he'd never been this close to a real dick -- and hopefully never would be -- but he almost couldn't help thinking of the image. Suppressing the slightest bit of a gag, Mike brought his mustachioed face close to the bud. It moved -- twitched -- he'd swear it. How could...? Suddenly, the flower before him seemed to burst -- no, actually, to burp -- to cum? -- and a good amount of pollen dusted Mike Milliano's nose, mouth, and mustache. He couldn't help but breathe it in, to taste it, dry and powdery, coating the inside of his mouth and nose. His first instinct was to gasp, which made him breath a little more of it in; he pulled his head back a bit, and brought his hand to his mouth. Brushing the pollen out of his mustache with his thick fingers, he mumbled, "Fucking plants." This close to crushing the stupid flower with his boot, he thought better of it. He could still come up tomorrow and take a picture of it -- a picture of a plant that looks like a guy's package would be worth somethin' -- THEN he could crush the shit out of it. Besides, it wasn't like the silly thing hurt him -- it just launched pollen in his face. Mike Milliano laughed only because no one else was around. His pride was hardly on the line over a fucking flower. Still brushing the last of the shit from his face, he hiked out of the forest and went back to work. ********************************************************************************** "I'm tellin' ya, Smitty, I feel fuckin' awesome! I ain't felt this good since I played ball in high school!" Smitty gave a non-committal grunt and took another swig of beer. Sitting there on the tailgate of his truck, he'd watched Mike Milliano put up an entire lower floor of a house by himself in less time than it took a crew of four. Impressive, but why work that hard, especially now, well after five o'clock, after the rest of the crew had gone home? Mike Milliano stepped off the foundation and walked toward Smitty's truck. There was something different about him, but Smitty wasn't sure what. He looked... well, he looked BIGGER than normal. Heavier. He looked like he'd packed on about ten pounds of muscle since lunch. The thought was so stupid that Smitty put it out of his head. "I don't know what the fuck it is," Mike said, unconsciously adjusting his balls. "I mean, I feel fuckin' great!" Smitty tossed him a beer from the cooler which he caught with a casual ease. He DID look bigger. His arms hadn't been that dense, had they? Mike Milliano popped the top of his beer and took a healthy swig. When he brought the can down, he studied his foreman, as if he debated telling Smitty some heavy shit. "Do you think I look bigger?" he asked, flexing his muscles to illustrate. "I think I've gotten bigger, Smitty." Smitty grunted again. "I was just thinkin' the same thing," he said. "It's weird," Mike continued, rubbing his free hand over his torso. "I don't know why, but it's like, all afternoon I could FEEL myself growing, getting stronger, gaining energy. I can't describe it -- it just feels so fuckin' great!" "What do you think caused it?" Smitty asked. "Have you come into contact with anything unusual?" Mike Milliano paused. Literally, he stopped feeling himself mid-stroke. The look on his face was confused, contemplative -- which was not an often-used adjective to describe Mike Milliano. "You know, come to think of it," he said, "I did." He touched his fingers to his mustache, pinching his lip. Smitty leaned forward. "What?" Mike Milliano was broken from his thought. He looked at Smitty and smiled. "You'll never believe it if I just tell you," he said, suddenly walking toward the forest behind the building project. "C'mon, I'll show ya!" Smitty snorted a laugh, but followed, not forgetting to take an extra beer with him. ***************************************************************************************************** "It looks like a big cock." Mike Milliano laughed. "That's what I thought." He squatted down on one side of the flower -- Smitty did the same on the other. "And the way that root there is exposed?" Mike continued, pointing it out. "It looks like the thing's balls." The two of them laughed together, in that juvenile humor kind of way that men share. Smitty took a swig of beer. "So, what's that got to do with you lookin' bigger?" Mike Milliano was quiet, but intense, like he was exposing his secret -- like he was confessing a great sin. He even leaned in toward Smitty, as if someone were eavesdropping in the middle of the forest -- as if the flower could hear them. "Buddy," he said, "I think I'm having a reaction to this thing's pollen." "What?" "Seriously, man," Mike continued, rubbing his hands together. "I was lookin' at this plant at lunch today, and it spit all this pollen in my face. I think this," he said, flexing his left biceps, "is what happened because of it." Smitty snorted. "That's crazy, man." "Maybe," Mike Milliano muttered. "But you asked me if I'd come in contact with anything unusual, and this is the only thing. Look, there's one way to find out for sure. You sniff it." "What?" "Sniff it," Mike said. "If it happens to you, then we know it's the plant. If not, then it's somethin' else -- but I think it's the plant. It's gotta be. So, sniff it. What's the worst that could happen? This?" He flexed his upper-body in a quick Most-Muscular shot -- he HAD gotten bigger. Maybe even bigger in the fifteen minutes since Smitty'd first noticed it. "It feels fuckin' great, Smitty." Smitty rolled his eyes. "This is stupid," he said, but it didn't stop him from leaning in to smell the flower. On the off-chance that Mike Milliano wasn't kidding, Smitty wanted to cover his bet. No man would mind havin' a build like that, especially if he didn't have to work for it. He put his face right up next to the flower's "cock-head" -- the fold of petal over the tip -- and breathed deeply. Nothing. The plant sat there, inanimate, unconcerned. If it could show less interest, Smitty couldn't imagine how. Worse, its fragrance was hardly pleasant. Frankly, it smelled like stale cum. "Okay," Smitty said, sitting up. "What's the joke?" Mike Milliano shook his head. "It's not a joke," he said earnestly. "I swear to you, man. I just leaned in like this..." Then, as Mike Milliano pushed his cap back and brought his head close to the blossom, the thing reacted. The flower seemed to shift toward him, as if it recognized him. Just as Smitty saw the movement, but before he could speak a warning, the flower shot a huge wad of dusty pollen right into Mike Milliano's face. "Mike!" But Mike Milliano's reaction was exactly the opposite of what Smitty was expecting. Instead of coughing and trying to expel the pollen, Mike Milliano was trying to get all of it inside -- he snorted the dust caked in his mustache, licked it off his upper lip and the fingers that he used for brushing. He was trying not to waste a bit. Smitty thought he looked like one of them heroin addicts handling their fix. What the fuck...? "Yes!" Mike Milliano shouted, standing, holding his arms out at his sides and flexing his back. "Oh, YES!" Smitty bent down at the plant. This time, when he leaned in close, the blossom seemed to turn away, as if it were snubbing him. When he looked back up, watching his crewman and buddy go from pose to pose, he realized -- with no small amount of homophobic horror -- that Mike Milliano had an erection. Smitty could see its outline plainly beneath Mike's tightening jeans. Obvious. When he flexed his abs, hands behind his head, Mike Milliano's eyes rolled back and his hips bucked uncontrollably. When he groaned, a growing wet spot appeared in the crotch of his jeans, proof of his orgasm. Mike Milliano smiled. "Oh, yeah," he purred, his voice relaxed. "Feels fuckin' great." He reached down and adjusted his package, touching the soaking stain in his pants. Mike Milliano didn't seem embarrassed at all. He just looked at Smitty, squatting there next to the plant, and kept on smiling. Ironically, it was the seams tearing open in Mike Milliano's jeans that broke the moment. "I better get the fuck home before I'm drivin' naked," he said, fingering the tear, studying it as if proud instead of amazed. The mass was becoming more and more evident in his thighs. He walked over to Smitty, adjusting his gait to accommodate his new size, and offered a hand. Smitty was speechless. There was now no denying that Mike Milliano had changed. Still in the same grungy baseball cap, but now his t-shirt was too tight, too form-fitting for even a guy in construction, showing a body normally produced through military obsession -- rock-solid abs and bulbous chest, round, wide deltoids and sloping traps. Listen, his pants were still tearing from the growth in his legs -- each step, each flex, opened them a little further -- the seams couldn't contain the mass. From Smitty's angle, squatting there looking up at Mike Milliano, there was no way to avoid seeing Mike's package, either. It seemed to Smitty that even THAT was growing -- a thought he would've considered ridiculous only a few minutes ago. How long before the fly gave out? Or before Mike Milliano spontaneously orgasmed again? The thought horrified Smitty. Mike Milliano's balls were the size of eggs. Even as Smitty reluctantly took the offered hand and allowed Mike Milliano to pull him to his feet, he briefly toyed with the idea of destroying the plant -- stamping it into the ground -- just a fleeting thought that he might be actually SAVING his friend from something, though he couldn't imagine what. Instead, he asked, his voice a little shaky, "Are you okay?" Mike Milliano hadn't released Smitty's hand after helping him up -- the moment was becoming uncomfortably long for two straight men -- then Mike Milliano put his free hand on Smitty's neck, intimate, like he was getting ready for a kiss. He had that look in his eye. "I'm sorry the plant doesn't like you," he said. "But I still do." He winked, then Mike Milliano released his grip and started to walk out of the forest, leaving Smitty standing there stunned, unable to move. Smitty said, "Mike?" and Milliano spun around, still smirking, clearly enjoying the affect he was having on poor Smitty. "Are you okay?" Smitty asked again slowly, a little more deliberately. Mike Milliano laughed, and flexed his upper-body, straining the already-burdened t-shirt. "Never been better," he said, and motioned with his head. "C'mon." Smitty tried not to look at Mike Milliano's thickening ass as he followed him out of the forest, but the sound of the tearing material kept drawing his focus. ********************************************************************************************************** Okay, he didn't have a great body -- he never had, not even at his peak -- and he wasn't particularly handsome, either. Frankly, he'd heard a few too many jokes about his hairline recently. As Smitty stood in front of his bathroom mirror, all he could see were faults and weaknesses. Why didn't the fucking flower want him? It didn't make any sense -- well, NONE of it made any sense -- but the idea that a plant could somehow be particular, that was ridiculous. That the flower would react to one person alone, the idea that the flower could know the difference between one person and the next was baffling. That it could make a guy more muscular was laughable in itself. But what did Smitty know about botany? He couldn't even keep a houseplant alive. He was content to simply drink his beer and watch his collection of adult video -- not that he found much comfort in either at the moment. He couldn't stop thinking about that damn plant! It'd SNUBBED him. How could that have been? As Smitty stared in the mirror after his shower, assessing his physical weaknesses for the millionth time, he began the comforting process of rationalization. Skipping ahead -- there's no need to bore anyone with Smitty's leaps of logic -- here's where he finally arrived: it wasn't that the plant didn't want him. No. What happened was, he'd sniffed the plant, or brought his head into proximity, whatever begins the process, and Mike Milliano just happened to have his face in the way when the plant expelled its pollen. If Smitty had just kept his head there a little longer, HE would've gotten the pollen. HE would've been the one growing more muscular. It wasn't that the plant was particular. No. Smitty just hadn't shown enough patience. What he needed was another chance. He needed to go alone, without Mike Milliano tagging along. He needed to give the plant the proper amount of time. A fair chance. For sure, if he sniffed the plant again, and waited long enough, he'd get the pollen. He'd get the growth. So then, at the first hint of light in the sky, Smitty headed toward the site. Purposely, he wore loose-fitting clothes -- he wanted to make sure his jeans stayed ON through his growth. Not like the way Mike Milliano's had exploded just as they'd reached Mike's truck, exposing his gross size and obscene new package. Worse, the way he seemed to revel in it -- Mike Milliano had hardly been shy about showing his erection when it'd happened. Maybe Smitty couldn't admit it outloud, but in truth, he was jealous. He couldn't believe how jealous he was. It kept him awake throughout the night -- it motivated him now. When he pulled into the building site, he was surprised to discover that he had a partial erection himself. The sky was pink, the forest a dark silhouette before it. Smitty impatiently smoked a cigarette as he waited for the sun to crest the horizon, to give him enough light to see. He didn't know these woods as well as Mike Milliano did -- he'd grown up in the next town over. Finally, Smitty flicked his butt to the ground and crushed it beneath his workboot. He could see well enough, certainly well enough to find a flower. He hiked into the woods the same way he and Mike Milliano had yesterday afternoon. He stayed to the path, even if it was a little dark. The shadows of the forest heightened the sense of mystery and excitement. Smitty couldn't believe the power of his erection. Because of the lack of light, he heard the scene before he saw it. It sounded like a man's low moan, like the approach of orgasm. What the hell...? Smitty was careful, hiding behind a great tree and taking a safe peek. The sun had risen enough to cast light into the small glade where the plant grew, so he could see all too easily. And what he saw horrified him. And because he could so easily see, the image was all too clear. Burned in his eyes, it would stay with him forever. There by the flower, naked but for workboots and baggy gym pants down around his ankles, knelt Mike Milliano. He was gigantic. Bigger than the bodybuilders in the magazines, more virile than the wrestlers on TV, Mike Milliano must've weighed three-hundred pounds, his musculature grown to unbelievable proportion, thick and heavy. But what stunned Smitty was what Mike Milliano was doing. He was kneeling before the plant, his massive legs on either side of it, with his cock buried deeply in the blossom. He wasn't fucking it -- that probably would've killed Smitty -- but it seemed like the plant was giving him head. It looked like Mike Milliano's cock fit perfectly in the foot-long, curving flower, and the moans coming from lips sounded like a man getting the best blow-job he'd ever had. His huge chest heaved. He rolled his head, his eyes closed, his mouth slightly open, lost in apparent ecstasy. His muscles still grew, and he softly flexed them in turn, his pecs, his biceps, his wide, wide back. Smitty couldn't move -- couldn't react -- all he could do was watch, try to process what he was seeing. It was almost too much. He watched helplessly as Mike Milliano's tempo increased. But when Mike Milliano suddenly stood, holding his arms out to his sides and flexing his entire body, every single over-grown muscle at once, when Mike Milliano threw his head back and suddenly orgasmed, screaming, shooting rope after rope of cum from his huge foot-long cock, coating the forest floor, Smitty found the strength to run. He didn't stop until he was back in town, at the local diner, where, because of the look of absolute horror on his face, the withered old waitress Sharlene gave him a shot of whiskey from her personal stash below the counter. He had to have two more before he had the nerve to face going back. ******************************************************************************************************* Mike Milliano knew what he had to do -- the thing had a funny way of communicating with him, like with pictures and feelings -- images. He couldn't describe it -- he certainly couldn't understand it. But he didn't need to. All he had to do was protect it, not understand it. He adjusted the pouch of his boxer-briefs to give better support to his balls, pulled up his baggy gym-pants and headed back to his truck -- Home Depot would be open soon enough. Stepping over the wilted flower, flattened and dead, unnecessary, Mike Milliano left the forest. Some of the other workmen were arriving on the site as he drove away. He waved to them with a much more muscular arm than he'd had yesterday -- he'd be back, and they'd get a clearer understanding of what had happened to him. He hadn't slept last night, either. Between the muscle-growth and the spontaneous orgasms and the cocaine-like buzz that had flooded his entire being, Mike Milliano had no time for sleep. The buzz had kept him from being concerned -- instead, it had been more like an exciting, wild ride -- the fulfillment of an adolescent dream. A comic-book transformation turned real. He'd had no fear. Why should he? He'd continued to grow throughout the evening, able to feel himself thickening, gaining mass. Look at him! Thank God he'd found that flower! Around midnight, the growth-spurt slowed, and finally let off. By that time, he'd weighed over two-hundred fifty pounds, and if he'd been paunchy before, there was no evidence of bodyfat on him now. His abs were incredible, drawing the eye to his narrow hips, which in turn lead to his dominant package, his unbelievable cock, his huge balls. That'd been when he'd noticed the shape of his new semi-erect cock, the slope -- it had been exactly the same as the plant. As a matter of fact, his cock could probably slip perfectly inside the blossom... He couldn't stop thinking about the plant. As his buzz had faded, he'd thought about it more and more. "Third time's the charm," he'd thought, beginning his own process of rationalization. He hadn't felt the need to be any bigger -- not that he would mind -- but what he really wanted had been the fuckin' buzz the thing had given him. It had been so strong, it'd reminded him of the crash after doing too much coke -- the impossible desire for more. Finally, Mike Milliano hadn't been able to take it. At four o'clock in the morning, after endless posing and modeling and hand-jobs to pass the time, he threw on his baggy gym-pants and workboots, grabbed a flashlight, and left for the forest. The moon had offered a surprising amount of light, so Mike Milliano had found his way through the construction site easily, the frames of half-built houses rising like prehistoric skeletons in the dark. He'd parked a little way further down the road than normal -- he hadn't wanted anyone to see his truck if they'd driven by. He hadn't even used the flashlight until he was well into the forest -- he hadn't wanted anyone calling the police because they'd seen someone lurking around up here. That would've been an unnecessary complication. He'd found the flower effortlessly -- he hadn't even needed the flashlight -- he'd known exactly where to go. There, waiting for the pre-dawn light, the dew had already begun to form on its bud -- that huge and beautiful cock, as perfect as the one Mike Milliano now had. He'd walked toward it as if hypnotized, with a stupid grin on his face, a loving and adoring look in his eye, his gratitude as powerful as his erection. He'd left the flashlight on the ground, spotlighting the plant like the star of some Broadway show. On his hands and knees, Mike Milliano had opened his mouth wide and took the blossom in. He hadn't cared what it looked like, a grown man taking what looked like a cock in his mouth, because he hadn't wanted to miss a bit of pollen. He'd wanted the whole hit. If he'd looked like a fag doin' it, then he did. And the plant had responded. In time with Mike Milliano's breathing, it'd launched its pollen. Every bit had gone into his lungs -- the blow job-like position had been a good idea. A cock in his mouth had seemed surprisingly natural. If he'd thought the buzz was intense before, it'd been nothing compared to what he felt at that moment, when the growth had begun. The feeling of gaining mass -- of thickening -- had overwhelmed him. He'd sat up on his haunches, enjoying it. Looking down at the flower, and at his semi-erect dick hanging almost next to it, he'd realized that he WOULD fit exactly inside the blossom -- his dick had gotten that big. The idea had seemed so right that, before his buzz-addled brain could stop him, he'd instinctively followed it. He'd slipped his cock into the velvety softness of the plant. Mike Milliano had been right, his cock had fit perfectly. He could feel the flower's stamen tickle his piss-slit. He could feel it slip inside. He could feel it growing up into his cock -- into his balls -- but he'd shown no concern. It'd felt so fucking good. And then, it'd come into him -- the Symbiote, the creature itself, the whatever-it-was that had been living in the bulb. Mike Milliano had been able to feel it come up through his cock, slippery like a snake, and make its way down, settling in the base of his balls, curling around his nuts, somehow connecting to him. And he'd understood. Images -- feelings -- a history had unfolded in his mind. It'd shown an explosion, massive, on a planetary scale -- spores in ice, hurtling through space -- hibernation, a deep, long, empty sleep -- a hundred years, a thousand, immeasurable -- cold -- then, entering THIS planet's atmosphere, the re-awakening -- taking root, beginning to search for a host, a Protector. It had all come into Mike Milliano's mind in an instant -- the Symbiote had spoken to him. A defenseless creature, the Symbiote would find a host organism willing to serve as the its Protector, keeping the delicate Symbiote safe. In exchange, the Symbiote would advance the Protector to his genetic limit, maximizing his abilities, his strength, and his sexual potency as well. Mike Milliano had seen the trade-off as more than fair -- he'd been only too glad to accept the Symbiote completely -- and so they'd joined together. The Symbiote had given him the best orgasm of his life, then -- Mike Milliano shot his seed all over the forest floor. Hopefully, he thought, they thought together, it would take root. Now, in his truck driving to Home Depot, gently cupping his balls so the Symbiote would be more comfortable, Mike Milliano ran over the list of things he had to buy to give the Symbiote what it wanted. Mike Milliano knew that great rewards were coming. ********************************************************************************************************* Finally the sun was completely up, so Smitty couldn't put it off any longer. He was the foreman -- he HAD to go to work. Whatever he'd seen, whatever he'd thought he'd seen, it was only one man, and Smitty had a responsibility to the REST of the crew. It didn't stop him from calling the lead carpenter on his cell. No, Jonas hadn't seen Mike Milliano at all that morning, though some of the other guys said they'd seen him driving off earlier. Smitty said he was on his way and hung up, surprised at his level of relief. He'd wanted a better body, true, but what he'd seen in the forest that morning thoroughly horrified him -- and not just the homophobic part. He didn't want anything at that price. It took Smitty about fifteen minutes to drive to the site. He spent that time debating whether he was glad or not that the plant hadn't picked him in the first place. What had it done to Mike Milliano? And where had he gone? He parked his truck next to the trailer that served as their make-shift office -- the crew, at work on various buildings, waved or hollered "Morning!" -- everyone greeted the foreman. And everybody was busy -- they were working awfully hard this morning, Smitty noted -- someone must've seen him coming and gave the word. Nobody on this team busted their ass until the coffee was gone or the boss was present, and maybe not even then. Then he saw it, back by the edge of the forest, Mike Milliano's pickup, black and shining like new in the morning sunshine. Where was...? Smitty approached the truck cautiously, looking around the site -- the only movement were the men working. The only sound... "Smitty!" A deep, heavy bass. A voice he'd heard but never heard. Smitty turned around, as saw him coming out of the forest. It was Mike Milliano, for sure -- or it had been Mike Milliano once. Smitty had never seen a man as large, as muscular as the beast that walked toward him. Mike Milliano's face, yes, but heavier, the jaw so much wider -- he still wore that stupid baseball cap, which meant his head hadn't grown, but that was the only thing. His neck and traps were so swollen that he looked almost cartoony. Even in the baggy gympants, the size of his legs was obvious, as well as the size of his genitalia. Yet even with the difficulty of getting his thighs around each other, Mike Milliano moved with an athletic gait, like a warrior. He wore a sleeveless t-shirt that didn't begin to cover his abs, that could barely contain his mountainous pecs. And his arms -- good Lord God, his arms! Bowling balls for biceps, hocks of hams for forearms -- his hands, his thick fingers were filthy, as if he'd been digging in the dirt. Smitty hoarsely whispered, "Mike?" Milliano smiled, cupping his balls through the thin cotton material of his gympants. "And more," he said, his voice deep -- his neck was so big, no wonder it had dropped in pitch. "What's that thing done to you?" Mike Milliano went from pose to pose, displaying those ridiculous muscles. "Completed me," he said, again adjusting his package. "What do ya think, Smitty? We're fuckin' amazing, aren't we?" Smitty motioned to Mike Milliano's dirty hands. "What are you doing, Mike?" he asked. "What's going on?" Mike Milliano gestured for Smitty to come closer. "C'mere," he said, then sighed impatiently. "We're not gonna hurt ya, Smitty. We just wanna show ya." He cupped his balls one more time. "We promise." Smitty tentatively stepped toward the giant and his pickup truck. Mike Milliano brushed the excess dirt from his hands as he waited, then gestured for Smitty to look in the bed. Smitty sighed, and finally did. "Our seed took root," Mike Milliano said proudly. There, in the bed of the truck, were almost a dozen clay pots, each of them filled with a plant exactly like the one that Mike Milliano had shown him yesterday in the forest. "Oh my God," Smitty said, as the panic of realization started in the pit of his stomach. But before he could even really react, one of the plants -- not the one closest to him, he noticed, a strange detail to remember -- which he would, for the rest of his life -- one turned toward him, literally, as if taking aim, and then shot a load of dust and pollen that hit Smitty square in the face. No! "Yes!" shouted Mike Milliano. He would scream -- Smitty breathed in to scream -- but coated his throat with even more of the stuff. Oh, shit! Oh, shit! "We just want to re-populate," said Mike Milliano simply. "We're not gonna hurt anyone." Panicked, Smitty ran. And as he ran, he tried to wipe the shit off his unshaven face. But it proved impossible -- it was gritty. It stuck. Trying to get it off just got more of it in. Smitty went to the first person he could find: Jonas. The nearly-obese head carpenter was working on the foundation of House Six, the one nearest the forest. Smitty called to him. "Jonas!" Jonas turned, and Smitty's horror rose a notch. Jonas had the remnants of pollen in his thick black beard. He smiled, and licked a little more of it off his upper lip, from beneath his mustache. "Morning, Smitty!" he said amiably. "Hey, you wanted to know. Milliano got here about fifteen minutes ago, right after you called. But I see you've already found him." "Oh my God..." Jonas smiled again, unconsciously adjusting his balls beneath his overalls. "Yeah, I know," he said. "I'm really startin' to feel it now, Smitty. And Milliano's right. It's pretty fuckin' amazing!" Smitty almost cried. He ran from guy to guy, searched out the whole crew, all eight of them, but Mike Milliano had gotten them first. Every single one of them had been blasted by that damn pollen -- and not one of them seemed the slightest bit concerned. And the thing of it was, after about a half hour, Smitty wasn't concerned, either. As a matter of fact, by the end of the day, he was feeling so good that he was more than happy to take the potted plant home with him. He actually felt kind of protective of it. He let it ride in his lap to keep it safe.

Hello! First time posting, but please leave suggestions/critiques. I work in a creative profession IRL, so I can take it. This is chapter 1 of ... well, at least a few more. It focuses on pectorals, but also features general muscle worship, situational/encounter eroticism, a bit of hairy guy appreciation, and likely very little actual sex. Just a warning if tha's what you're here for. One final note: When the main character says "God, he's so American", I don't mean it at all derogatorily—I'm just Aussie, and anyone else who's not American knows what I'm talking about Contents Chapter 1 (below) — 5th Dec 2020 Chapter 2 — 7th Dec 2020 Chapter 3 — 22nd Dec 2020 Chapter 1 It was just past 2am, the airport’s air conditioning was sputtering feebly overhead, and I had just stumbled off a 7-hour flight from Melbourne into the humid, sticky Malaysian air. I’d needed a damn leak so badly. I’d dragged myself through the empty terminal, staggered into the a vaguely toilet looking place, and pushed into the first cubicle I could reach. All I could even think about was pissing. I couldn’t tell, and frankly didn’t even care, if I was in the men’s or not. Well, I wouldn’t have been able to tell, had it not been for the absolutely enormous muscle man who filled the tiny toilet cubicle into which I’d just barged. He was staring at me, open mouthed, and I was staring at him. Or rather, I was staring alternately at his lean, tanned face, and at his throbbing dick, which he held in his veiny hand as it spewed cum all over his torso. And fucking hell that was one huge torso. He was incredible: he had skin like paper, which barely contained the masses of his bulging pecs and arms. He had balloon-like shoulders, pressing against the walls of the cubicle, and deeply cut abs. And into those abs, deep, hard, abs that were competition-ready and shredded as hell, dripped thick spurts of hot white cum. Both of us seemed to come to our senses simultaneously. I stumbled backwards, out of the cubicle, and he leant forward to close the door. But, in that moment, his dick gave one last a spurt, and jet of his hot cum landed squarely on my face. He froze, horrified. I blinked, once, twice, then backed out further and awkwardly hauled myself into the cubicle next door. And I just sat there, shorts on, with his still-warm cum on my face, hard as a rock. Slowly, I wiped off the cum, manoeuvred my shorts down over my erect dick, and tried to think of something, anything, other than the muscle monster just centimetres away from me. There was no way I could piss with a dick that hard. I just couldn’t get his image out of my mind: pecs the size of my head, biceps like mangoes, abs and obliques like a fucking washboard, huge meaty thighs totally swallowing the toilet seat. And literally in the next toilet cubicle! After what felt like hours, I heard a rustling of toilet paper, the flush of the toilet, and a hurried pulling up of shorts. The door unlocked (I couldn’t help imagine his massive, powerful arms flexing and absolutely overpowering that tiny metal lock), a tap ran briefly (I thought about his huge, heavy pecs pressed together, and the cleavage they would make, as he brought his hands together under the warm water), and finally the sound of flip flops faded into the distance (I imagined being a tiny pad of rubber, stood on by his massive man, his huge tree-trunk legs jostling as he leaves the bathroom). It must have been about 10 minutes, and multiple ejaculations, before I was even able to get a dribble of piss out. I was definitely awake now. Fuck. I flushed the toilet and went to clean my face and wash my hands, but still his image consumed my mind. What would it be like to be as massive as that? To feel the weight of so much muscle just hanging off your frame? To have people look at you like a freak? To have pecs and biceps so big that you can’t even touch your shoulders. I pondered this, admittedly with a raging boner in my shorts, as I left the bathroom and started to slowly amble towards our gate, where Dave, my research partner, would be waiting. Thank God there was no one else around. Other than Dave, who was very straight, I hadn’t physically seen another man, let alone hooked up with one, in months, having just come up from a research station down off the coast of Tassie. I couldn’t believe that, of all the men to see in a deserted airport, it would be one so gargantuan and freakish. I prayed that if God existed, the massive muscle man would be sitting near us, so that I could ogle him while we waited until our connecting flight tomorrow afternoon. As I approached the gate, I realised two things: one, perhaps the terminal wasn’t quite as deserted as I’d thought. Two, I had had no need to pray. All around us, strewn almost like toys across every seat and floor area, was dozens of freakishly muscular men. Most of them were asleep, and all of them were shirtless, in a what I assumed was a vain attempt to escape the humid February night air. There were smaller guys, lightweights, who were insanely cut but whose muscles weren’t outrageous and bulging (yet). Medium sized guys who had a fair bit of size, but still could probably fit into a suit. And then massive guys, so big that they took up multiple airport lounge seats with their shoulders alone, or entire walkways with their mass. All of them looked just days out from competing, and a few of them even had their posing straps visibly poking out under their tiny gym shorts. And then there was Dave, looking very out of place in his red hoodie, perched on a seat in the far corner of the lounge, with his phone plugged in to the wall. He looked up and beckoned me over with a faintly annoyed look on his face. “Who the fuck are all these guys?” I whispered as I sat down next to him. “No idea; they were here when I arrived. Either way, they’re taking up all the power points.” “Right.” I looked around, still not quite able to believe my luck, that this was real life. Just across from us, a young guy with a blond buzzcut and crazy broad shoulders and an incredibly lean, ripped midriff, lay with his chin pressing into his chest. Next to him, a slightly older guy with dark hair and perfect, tanned skin was watching a movie as he lay with his head on the armrest. I could see his perfect, tight biceps flexing as he held the phone to his face with his right arm, and absent-mindedly rubbed his hard, tight abs with the other. I considered staying up to continue to appreciate the scenery, but it was almost 3am and my eyes were really feeling it. “I might get some sleep. Can you watch our stuff?” “Sure; I’ve got some emails to finish, anyway” he replied, eyes already back on his phone screen. “Thanks.” The guy sleeping in the seat next to me had his arm (a massive, veiny arm thicker than my head, I might add) on the arm rest, so I leant back and away to face Dave (that much muscle in my face would have been hugely distracting), and drifted off to sleep. *** I’m back in the toilets, standing in the doorway and staring hungrily at the massive guy sitting in front of me. He’s just cummed all over his gorgeous abs and heaving pecs, and he’s asking me to clean it up for him. I submit, of course, almost ripping my shirt off as I move forwards to “clean up”. I get down on my knees, place my hands on his enormous, quivering, veiny thighs, and start to lick the cum off his abs. I work my tongue into every groove, and make sure to polish off every rock hard ab, every delicious, smooth oblique. I move up to his pecs, where some of the cum has landed in his cleavage and onto his under-pec. I lift them up one at a time (fuck they’re heavy) and lick all around the crease where his massive mounds of muscle join to his torso. As I lift them, I feel his still-hard dick pulse and slap against my abs, and he moans slightly in ecstasy. I let his pecs fall and hit my face, then gently move my hands up and pull apart those bulging, striated pec mounds to lick in between them. He arches his back, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his dick into me. I’ve almost cleaned all the cum from between them; I just need to pull them a little wider. They’re so big and round, I can barely get my face in between them. I dig further into the canyon, and all of a sudden he flexes, involuntarily, and cums all over again. My face is trapped between his enormous pecs, and his cum is spurting onto my chin. I’m cumming, too, firing onto his thigh and while I pound the huge, hard mounds on his chest. Is that laughter? He releases my face, and although cum is still firing from his dick, he’s laughing. My hands are still firmly clasped onto the mounds of muscle on his chest—how is this funny? I each for the toilet paper, and— I woke up and opened my eyes with a start. Dave was asleep next to me, and his mouth hung wide open as he quietly snored. It was only early morning, but already the air was in the low 30s. I looked around sluggishly for the laughter that ruined my dream. Ah, there. A few rows of seats in front of us, a group of muscle guys were laughing and cheering whilst three or four of their mates were wrestling. I guessed this was worth being woken up for. Almost all of them were shirtless, wearing nothing but gym shorts or briefs and flip flops, and every single one of their beautiful, cut physiques was on display. A few rows further on, some of the bigger guys were posing for each other. Each one would get up, covered in sweat (the air conditioner had finally given up), run through his posing routine, and then a couple of the others would get up and adjust an arm here, foot positioning there. I watched for a while as they cycled through poses and physiques, big and small, tall and short. I was just about to get up and fill my water bottle when he got up and posed. The guy from the bathroom. For the first time, I noticed his face, his gorgeous cut jawline with a day’s worth of growth, his deep brown eyes and short, wavy hair. And, in the early morning light, he looked even bigger. Every single muscle was outrageous in size and definition. He hit a double bicep, and his arms eclipsed his head in size. A front lat spread, where his torso grew wider than it was tall. A most muscular, his gigantic biceps fighting for space with his huge chest and his traps almost swallowing his neck. Finally, to finish, a side chest, where the sheer amount of mass on his chest spilled out in all directions. He looked bigger than Arnold, with so much muscle just stuffed into his chest. I couldn’t believe how big his pecs were, and how thick and round and powerful they looked. They looked like they were ready to pop. When he hit that beautiful side chest, all the guys around him cheered. He relaxed from the pose, and his pecs fell to their natural, full, round state on his chest. God, they looked so huge and heavy, almost obscuring his abs with their mass and shadow. A few of guys got up and surrounded him, laughing and congratulating him. One or two playfully punched him in the chest, or put a hand on the ridge of muscle that was his lower pec. Everyone was absolutely enamoured by this superhuman pec freak. Next to me, Dave stirred and sat up slightly. He looked over at the flex-off, then at me, and finally to the massive, wet tent in my pants. “Really?” he asked with a sigh. “Look, I need something to do for the next 5 hours! It’s been ages since I’ve had any eye candy, and they’re right there…” “You could work on that sea floor geographic analysis, like you said you would on the flight over.” “Or, I could analyse the geography of their gorgeous bodies” “Dude, you need a boyfriend” he laughed. “Yup, I do. And hanging around a married straight man isn’t going to help me” “Hey, you said yourself you were into me when we met” It’s true, I sort of was. I had a weakness for fit, hairy guys, and Dave was both. He was only in his 20s, but he had a nice, full physique with definition, even if he was on the small side. He looked like he worked out, but only to keep fit, rather than to show off like these guys. And he had gorgeous blond-brown hair that gradated into gold on his chest, forearms and legs. Fuck, his legs were hairy. They looked great in the early morning sun, where his tanned, fit calves were framed in a halo of glowing thick fur that coated his legs right up to the bottom of his shorts. While he’d been asleep, he’d slipped further off the chair, and his shorts were riding right up into his crotch. Somehow, his meaty, toned thighs were even hairier than his lower legs. Too bad he was both very straight, and taken. “Psh, you wish. Anyway, I’m going to get some water” “Can you fill my bottle too?” he asked as handed me his water bottle. Fucking hell, his hairy forearms looked good in the sun. “Yeah, sure”. I took his bottle and started over to the central walkway, stepping around the odd pile of sleeping muscle and sweat as I went. I walked back down towards the toilets, past the flex-off that inexplicably was still going on. There were only so many poses you can do, and so many muscles you can pump up, but these guys couldn’t seem to get enough. I could almost smell the testosterone leaking off their pumped, sweaty bodies. They seemed to enjoy appreciating each other’s bodies, acknowledging all the hours they’d put in at the gym to look the way they did, and competing for who was the most muscular, masculine of them all. I’d almost reached the drinking water taps when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around, ready to tell Dave that, yes, I knew you couldn’t drink the water from the bathroom taps. But there instead, standing slightly taller than me, was the guy from the bathroom. “Hey, I, um, just, uh, wanted to, you know, apologise? For, uh, last night?” he offered, almost as if he wasn’t used to being embarrassed or bashful. I guess that with muscles like his, you get used to being supremely confident. “Oh, no, it’s okay. I should have, you know, checked if the cubicle was occupied or something” He grinned, and scratched the back of his head. Fucking hell, how did he even reach his neck, with biceps so huge? “Nah, it’s alright. I should have locked the door.” Ah, there was that confidence that that body demanded. “I’m Ash, by the way. Ash Forte.” “Travis” I smiled politely. I don’t know why he was telling me his last name, but I was definitely going to use that name to spend all my free airport WiFi googling him. In that moment, I also began to understand how straight guys feel when they try to avoid staring at women’s tits—Ash’s massive pecs were uncomfortably prominent. “So, where’re you headed, Travis?” God, he was so American and so easily friendly. If I’d just cummed on a stranger’s face in the airport of a conservative Muslim country, the last thing I’d be doing is making friends with them. Still, I was keen to have someone else to talk to other than Dave. “Ah, we’re heading to a small island off the coast of Thailand, just north of Langkawi in northern Malaysia” “For a holiday?” “Nope, research. We’re studying ocean floor ecologies in various parts of the world.” “Woah, that sounds so cool! Tell me more” he exclaimed. And for once, unlike most people when I tell them what we do, he actually sounded genuinely interested. “Really?” “Yeah! I totally wanted to be a marine biologist growing up!” “Ah, not quite the same thing, but I take your point” I chuckled. “Let me fill up my water bottle, and I’ll tell you more.” “Cool! Just let me get my bottle. I’ll meet you back here in 5” and with that, not even waiting for my agreement, he turned around and lumbered off. His back was so fucking wide, and every single muscle was almost screaming to be noticed. Does this muscle freak actually want to spend time talking to me? I could barely contain my excitement! I raced to fill up Dave’s bottle, ran back and almost threw it at him (“uh, thanks?” he said as I ran off), and sped back to the drinking water taps. (to be continued...)

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

I wake up. I stand there tied to a block of steel. My arms are stung by wires. It hurts, I scream in pain. I barely remember the events that lead to this moment, I can only remember being tied to this block, siringes being injected in my arms, the pain making me unconscious. Now I wake up, I feel pain, and in the mist of it, warmth spreading all over me. I can feel my blood being infected with what they're injecting in me through the wires, it hurts so bad, I scream in pain. As I scream, my whole body flex, as if I'm trying to embrace myself, bracing for something beyond my comprehension. I flex, once more, harder, and I beg them to stop, byt they don't, instead, more pain. I struggle to remember how did I end up here, how did I tied to this block. "UNGH" "AHH" It hurts, deeply, I feel it infecting my organs and brain... Something is about to happen, something big. As the pain surges once again, I feel my clothes tighter, I feel, as I flex, my arms tougher, my chest wider. Something is happening with me, something big. I scream, I do my best to release myself, I can't, and the more I try, the more I feel the infection spreading. I am growing bigger, wider, and my clothes start to feel uncomfortable, I scream in pain, I don't know what is happening still, but I don't want this, I don't want this pain, this liquid, this infection. I desperately try to remember. I am growing bigger, wider, my clothes start ripping apart, my body is now washed in sweat, the ripping fabric is glued to my blody by the thick layer of foul sweat that covers me now. I scream, I want ti to stop. As my clothes rip itself apart, glued to my body even further, I feel the chain of my dogtag stretching across my back, neck and chest, as they grow thicker, wider, stronger. It happens, I feel the energy of a thousand suns within me. My screams transform into deep roars, slowly but surely, my voice is bellowing octaves, I don't know how. It happens, I feel my legs thickening, stretching, ripping my trousers. Ripping my boxers. I feel my penis hard with the pressure. My shirt is slowly reduced to shambles as my pecs widen, my abs grow within me, hard and powerful, capable of many feats. My shoulders, oh, my shoulders get stronger by the minute. I try to remember why this is happening to me, but I feel my brain changing, too, I feel the pain slowly turn to pleasure, I feel my suffering facial expression turning into a grin, my eyes are frowning and my eyes are filled with power and anger. I am losing my innocence, I am transforming, transforming into a beast, and I want more. Slowly but surely, this desire consumes me. "Yes, please, more!" "Oh yea! Oh my cock! My fucking cock! Bigger!" "More, I want more!" "MORE, I WANT MORE" "GAHHHHHH" My voice turn into loud and angry grunts, the transformation capture me fully, and is determined to change me completely, from a regular man into a fighting beast. A powerful muscular monster. I feel my whole body changes as I'm getting naked, My cock is standing like a pilar in my front, trembling with blood and the formula that is now part of my being, part of my genes. My pecs expand larger and larger, I like how my skin stretches, desperate to catch up with my delicious and tremendous transformation. The modified testosterone of my body fills the air, this is the aroma of my thick sweat, this is who I am, a beast, more than a man, the figure of pure raw masculine power. And I want more, I demand for more. I am able to release myself from the block, some of the wires fall in the floor, but I'm still transforming, I feel immense pleasure as I release myself, my feat of strenght, causing me to cum, jets and jets of my thick seed mix with my sweat, the strong smell of it fills the air, and it hits me, finally. How I ended up turning to a beast of pure raw deep power. My previous self, so curious, got caught in a secret project from a powerful organization, and this is my punishment, to lose my humanity, to become the first test subject of their ambitions. I don't mind, and then my mind blanks as I keep spurting my seed. I roar a deep roar of satisfaction, I am who I want to be, I embrace my change, I am what they want me to become. They asked, they received. I feel more power within me by the second. And it hits me, this power, needs to be shared. I know what my next move is.

Here's the third (and final?) part of the Maximus Protein saga. Hope you enjoy. "WHAT THE FUCK" yelled Travis, causing me to turn and fall out of Dan's lap in alarm. "I GO TO TAKE A NAP AND YOU GUYS JUST DRINK MY PROTEIN? DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THAT SHIT COST?" Travis was livid, red face behind his wire-framed glasses, messy hair sticking up. Standing there in just his loose plaid boxers and a wifebeater shirt, he looked almost comically small. Travis was a couple inches taller than me, sure, and he had a decent frame, but he had always been more on the skinny-fat side and now that Dan was a behemoth who was currently taking up half the living room, he seemed incredibly small. "I can explain, Travis" I said apologetically, getting up and realizing I was completely naked and still semi-hard in front of my roommate, which would have been a mortifying situation on any other day. But not today. Before I could say any more, I felt a sharp pain in my stomach and dooubled over, falling to my knees. "Gah! What is this?" I gasped. Dan's rumbling laugh behind me: "It's hap-pe-ning!" he said in a sing-song tone, snickering at me as I started sweating anew, cowering on the floor. Travis stomped out of the room, fists clenched at his side and muttering to himself. I didn't see where he went, I was too focused on whatever was happening to my own body. "What is this?" I gasped to Dan. "Put two and two together, runt." He said in his now-extra-bassy voice. "I drank the Maximus and then I drank your cum, you drank the Maximus, and then uh, took my cum..." "I'm gonna grow." I said, stating it out loud and barely believing it. I don't know why it didn't occur to me that it would happen. I still couldn't believe what happened to Dan. This all felt like some dream that was out of control. But I had had dreams like this before. I wasn't dreaming the burning feeling in my gut, or the sweat racing down my back, or the shaking in my limbs. This was no dream, but I was about to lose control. "Don't sweat it man" Dan said from the couch. He had a huge shit-eating grin on his face, and he was lazily fondling his junk again. He was enjoying this. "Trust me, runt, this (he slapped his huge, hairy muscly stomach, running his fingers over the ridges of his abs, smearing around some precum that had leaked) feels DAMN good." Blood was rushing in my ears, I felt like I could puke or pass out. I opened my mouth to respond to Dan but the only sound I managed was a low groan. "OOOuuuuuhhhh" I fell back into a kneeling position facing Dan on the couch. My suddenly hard erection slapped against my flat stomach and I had no choice but to start jerking it. Just then all the feelings of pain and nausea and burning coalesced into one feeling: I was horny as hell and ready to grow. My cock felt thicker in my hand, and I was working my arm higher up a longer shaft than I had had before. "Unh" I felt my knees spread outward involuntarily and noticed some mass in my quads that hadn't been there a second ago. "Ah" I took a sharp intake of breath as I felt my toes push across the carpet. Simultaneously my ass, which I'd always been proud of, was pushing on my heels. I readjusted my kneeling position without taking my hand off my prodigious dick and felt my balls roll and drop heavily between my legs. I stuck my hand down between my muscular quads (which were getting bigger by the second) and tugged at my balls. They were bigger, definitely. They were the size of limes in my hand, which also felt bigger. I pulled my hand up to look at it and flexed my fingers in front of me. I'd always had slender hands that I was ashamed of, but these looked like a man's hands, beautifully muscular and powerful. My wrists were thicker, and I noticed a shade of my copper red hair, which had always been to wispy to really notice, was now growing thickly on the backs of my hands. Then I couldn't ignore that my whole forearms were looking insanely thick and veiny. "Oh fuck!" I felt a spasm shake through me. This was hot as hell. I knew I had to see my chest, but I was almost afraid to look, afraid to see what I was becoming. I closed my eyes for a second, throwing my head back and breathing, enjoying the expanding sensation. I'd never felt this, but I knew it was all I'd ever wanted to feel. I bit my lip, feeling more stubble growing under my lip than had ever been there before. I was ready for this. I felt like a new man. I could feel my pecs heaving, my abs flexing involuntarily. It was time to become the size of man I wanted to be. "Uhhhhhh" I grunted, as I opened my eyes and adjusted to the immediate shock of everything in the room looking lower (and smaller) than when I had shut them just a minute ago. I looked down at my chest to see pure muscle, twitching and growing outwards, my pale skin flushing red as a luxurious spread of copper hair fanned outward from the gap between my pecs. "Oh holy fuck" I yelled, in a voice that was like mine, just deeper and hoarser. "look at these fucking pecs!" I barely had to turn my head to see the boulder delts that were growing on either side of me. I lifter my left arm up to flex and felt like I could have cum right then at the size of my fucking cannonball bicep surging up from my freakishly veiny, striated arm. That was my arm! I craned my neck to see past my pecs, and saw a dark treasure trail trickling straight down my tensing cobblestone abs to a thick bush. Sprouting out of it was what had to be 11-no 12! perfect inches of rock hard cock , capped off by a flaring cockhead, perfectly pink and juicy. "This is what I am now", I said to myself, barely believing it. "This is all me." I put both arms into a massive most muscular pose and roared like the beast I was. "Hot damn, runt!" I had almost forgotten Dan was there, I was so absorbed in my own growth. "Who are you calling runt!" I demanded, shocking myself at the power of my own voice. Dan just laughed his new, booming laugh. "I think I'm still the big dog around here" he said in a cocky way as he made each of his giant pecs bounce. I instantly jumped to my feet, and immediately was taken off guard by just how high I was off the ground now. I had to be nearing 7 feet. "Big dog? We"ll see who's the big dog! Get the fuck up Dan!" A momentary expression of surprise passed over Dan's face, immediately replaced by his handsome, cocky grin. He leaned forward and hoisted his bulk onto his feet. The couch seemed to groan in relief. He took his time standing up, but boy did he stand up. And up. And up. Fuck. He was probably 9 feet at full height now. He squared up against me, looking down his nose at me, exhaling loudly and puffing out his massive, hairy pecs. He had a neck like a bull, and all I wanted to do was put my hands around it again. "Well, runt" he growled, "You gonna do something?" I could barely keep from cumming right there on the spot, he looked so fucking sexy. I went for the only weakness I knew Dan had: his soft, pink nipples, which were now quite a bit larger than they had been , but still stood out from the dark hair on his heavy pecs like they wanted to be pinched. Before he could say another word I grabbed them with both of my strong hands, squeezing as tight as I could while Dan howled in pain and pleasure, and fell to his knees so hard that it made the whole house shake. I heard some dishes crash in the kitchen. "How's this, big dog" I sneered teasingly, trying to intimidate, even though Dan on his knees was only a little shorter than me. "Ahhhh sonofabitch!" Dan grunted. He was obviously enjoying this. "Ohhh fuck! Ah! Not so hard!" I clamped down, rubbing his nipples roughly between my huge thumbs and forefingers, pulling and twisting. Dan yelped in pain, but his red-hot erection, the size of a baseball bat,, and sticking straight up out of his briefs (how was he still wearing those briefs?) told me he was enjoying this. "Ok I'll do anything you want" He wheezed between short breaths, "just know that I'll do the same to you, twice as hard." Had Dan always been this much of a freak? Why hadn't we hooked up sooner? Maybe he had been sending me signals all along, but I hadn't picked up on them. I had always been pretty shy and lacking in self-confidence. But not anymore. That version of Scott had gone, and now there was a real life hulk where a skinny Bruce Banner had been. I was going to get what I want, and I what I wanted now was Dan. On all fours. "Get down, boy" I growled, surprised at the gravel in my own voice. Dan complied as I let go of his nipples, now swollen and red, and he looked up at me with a mixture of lust and playfulness. Here was the biggest man I'd ever seen, and he was waiting on me to tell him what to do. Suddenly I had an idea. Travis had bought this massive oak table when we had moved into the place, in order to fit the huge dining room that was just right next to the living room. I had mocked him for it at the time, cause we only ever ate dinner leaning against the kitchen counter or sitting on the couch, but he had insisted that it was his viking banquet table. "Dan," I said in the most commanding tone I could muster, "I want you to crawl to the table and lie facedown on it." A huge grin crept across Dan's face, and I had to force myself to stop from smiling too. "Now!" I shouted. Dan complied. The table was much tougher than the couch, and it was a truly massive slab of furniture, so even Dan's awesome bulk fit onto the top of it comfortably. He was lying face down on it lengthwise, and his feet were still dangling off of one end. I took the floor length curtains off the sliding door that let on to the back porch (no sense in privacy anymore) and used them to tie Dan's hands together under the table. It was amzing that his arms were long enough to reach over and under the sides of the six foot wide table, but there was just enough space between his hands to get a good tension. Without saying a word, I walked to the end, grabbed Dan's ankles, and brusquely yanked him toward me, sliding him down the table until his legs were hanging off the end and his giant size ass was sticking out at perfect waist height for me. I took some more curtains off the rod (taking a moment to bend the curtain rod in my meaty hands like a paperclip) and used the curtains to lash each of Dan's gargantuan thighs to one of the equally sturdy table legs. "That oughtta hold you" I grunted. Dan laughed a bit, which earned him a violent slap on the ass. Speaking of Dan's ass, how were his briefs still intacted. The man had practically quadrupled in size this afternoon and still they were stretched across his has, full of tears and see-through thin, but still on him. Not anymore. I knelt down and grabbed at the back of the briefs, shredding them easily in my hands. "HEY! Those were my lucky undies!" Dan shouted. "Well I'd say theyve gotten you pretty lucky" I teased as I grapped the elastic strap and pulled it until it snapped off. "Do you feel lucky?" I said as I spread his huge cheeks to reveal a thicket of hair surrounding his pink, quivering asshole. I spat on it and gave it a lick, inhaling deeply and getting light-headed from the intoxicating man-musk that was steaming off of him. "Well do you?" I asked again, but I didn't wait for an answer before I stuck my face in, slobbering all over his hole, kissing it, drooling on it, working it over with my strong tongue. Dan moaned loudly and writhed against me, flexing his glutes to squeeze my head, grunting animalistically and whimpering as I worked away on his hole. Without warning I stuck two fingers in, then three, working my thick digits around inside his shockingly warm and soft hole.Dan only moaned louder and shoved his hips back toward me. "Is this your first time, big man Dan?" I asked lovingly as I stood up, readying myself to plunge into him. Dan turned his head to try to look at me from his prone position. "Maybe" he said. Bastard. I lubed up my footlong tool with some of the pre that had been leaking from the head and plunged it into his hole without pausing until I was all the way in. "OOOOH! UNNH! FUCK YES" Dan bellowed, and shoved his hips back into me. I started to pump away, shocked at how easily he took my massive tool. Was I big enough to really fuck him I momentarily wondered, and almost immediately I felt the swelling, heaving feeling again. I felt my dick expand wider and lengthen by another couple inches inside of Dan, causing him to squeal. I felt my arms and pecs get thicker, shaking with each pump as I plowed into Dan's ass. I guess the cum that Dan had filled me with was still working. Maybe Maximus Protein continued to work as it digested? I didn't have time to ponder the intricacies of growth effects while enjoying them at the same time, I was getting bigger as I fucked Dan! My arms put on considerable size, looking like two columns of muscle. Where my hands had only been able to paw at Dan's back before, now I could actually get a decent grip around his waist. I squeezed both sides of his hips, adjusted my stance wider to account for my thicker, longer, tree-trunk legs, and began to jackhammer into Dan with my 15, no 16 inch rod. "OH FUCK! FUCK YEAH BIG DOG! GIMME ALL YOU GOT!" Dan was lost in bliss, bucking back against me, shaking the whole table with our motion. I was grunting animalistically, losing all control of my thoughts. I wanted to fuck Dan on this table all night, and I would. Sweat was pooling under us, and I could hear the sound of Dan's huge dick slapping the bottom of the table with each thrust that I put into him. I readjusted my grip, reaching across the expanse of Dan's back and grabbing around his thick warm bull neck with both of my huge paws. I pulled his neck roughly towards me, squeezing my fingers against his windpipe, but it neck muscles with too thick to let me cause him any harm. I pushed his head into the table, grinding his sweaty forehead against the wood. Dan's almost incoherent with pleasure, I could feel his drool spilling down his thick beard and over my fingers, pooling on the table as he drew sharp, ragged breaths. Just then there was a low groan and a faint rumbling sound from Dan. I felt my grip on his neck loosen slightly, but I hadn't relaxed it. "Dan what's... unh.. are you...... aggh.... growing more?" Dan only laughed hoarsely, dumb hanging out of his mouth in an idiot grin of pleasure. I forgot he had drank all my cum from when he fucked me. That had to have some effect. The only thing I could do was keep fucking him, watching in amazement as his head and shoulders crept slowly up the surface of the table, his lats inching wider, arms flexing and pulling at the curtains that were tying his wrists together. I could hear the fabric starting to tear as his thighs pulsed and bulged bigger, straining against the inadequate bonds I had tied him with. I had better hurry up and cum before Dan tore free and had the upper hand on me again. Or should I wait? It had already been a couple hours since I had grown. The huge load that was currently weighing down my grapefruit-sized testicles could surely wait a few more minutes. I wanted to see what would happen. Then I noticed a change in Dan's demeanor. He arched his back up, pulling away from the table and causing his mammoth back muscles to flare and bulge. "UNNNNH" he said. I pumped into him more, but I wasn't causing this sudden change in reaction. Then I realized that I couldn't hear Dan's dick slapping against the bottom of the table anymore. I all I heard was some wet licking sounds. "Wait, Scott" said Dan, out of breath between guttural moans of pleasure, "If you're the one, UNNH, fucking my-Huh, ass... MMMnnn.... then who....AAHhhh.... is sucking my cock?!?" I pulled out of Dan's ass and dove to the ground to see an unbelievable sight. Underneath the table, in a pool of sweat, drool, and precum, was Travis, my roommate, still in his boxers and wifbeater, flat on his back and wrapping his arms and legs around Dan's mammoth cock, hungrily lapping his tongue around the head and using his whole body to jerk him off. Dan's cock was as big as Travis' whole torso, and slick with precum, but Travis hung on for dear life as it twitched and bucked around . Suddenly there was a loud rip as Dan broke his hands loose of his shackles and he instantly grabbed Travis' body with his massive mitts and began to jerk himself off with Travis' body. "WHOEVER"S DOWN THERE.... UNNNGHHH..... BETTER HOLD ON TIGHT!!" Dan bellowed just as he released a torrent of cum straight in to Travis' face, blowing his glasses off his head and causing him to sputter and gurgle. "Dan let go you'll drown him!" I yelled but Dan couldn't hear me over his roaring grunts. I reached down to pull Travis out of Dan's grip when I realized Travis was still holding on to Dan's dick with all his might, and he was, well, he was actually managing to drink most of the cum that was flooding out of Dan's dick. He had his mouth wide open, gulping down spurt after endless spurt of giant seed. I was confused. Travis, my avowedly straight roommate, was guzzling cum that should have been going down my throat if anyone's. I didn't even have time to realize how jealous I was as I looked around the room at the excess cum pooling on the floor. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted something on the floor in the kitchen doorway. It was the tub of MAXIMUS PROTEIN, lying on it's side, completely empty. Travis must have drank the whole container. I looked back at Travis under Dan's cock, finally having let go of it as the cum flood ebbed. He was gasping for air, covered in all manner of fluids, and there was a familiar rumbling sound coming from his stomach... To be continued?

Magic Memo By Ultrabeef As a teacher it often feels like my work is never done. Responding to emails has to be my least favorite part of the job as it can often take hours after a long day in the classroom. I’ve been doing this job for 20 years so it isn’t often that I am surprised but tonight was different. I saw an email from an unfamiliar address that somehow made it through my school’s spam filter. “Tired? overworked? ready to work smarter, not harder? Have we got the app for you! Magic Memo is offering a free trial to a select group of educators. Simply click the link below to download the app and let your new magic memo enhanced life begin!” I usually don’t click links in suspicious emails (especially ones that make outrageous claims) but my curiosity was peaked. Sure enough the link took me to an official looking app store page and immediately started downloading Magic Memo onto my phone. Once downloaded, the app popped open and directions appeared. “Welcome to the Magic Memo app. Simply speak what you want into the app and it will translate your speech into action. Need a letter? Say “write letter” then speak what you want the letter to say and Magic Memo will take care of the rest. “Cool” I thought to myself, this could really save some time. A few hours later, after cleaning out my email inbox, I was just about to exit out of my work (and truthfully browse some internet porn), when an email popped up from a former student, Landon White. I had always liked Landon (and suspected that he might have been suppressing some homosexual tendencies while in school). But he had graduated 3 years ago, and like with most students, I had lost track of him. Landon had been a smart student; he was a tall, lanky kid with curly brown hair, olive eyes, and a polite manner. Landon had caught my eye even then, and I definitely wondered what he was up to now as a 21 year old. Based on his profile picture he was a thin but handsome young man. Landon’s email was asking for a letter of recommendation/character reference for a job. I quickly replied and suggested we meet up for coffee the next day. The next afternoon, I headed to a nearby Starbucks to meet up with Landon to get details from him before I wrote his letter of recommendation/character reference. A little past noon Landon walked in. He looked older and more mature than I remembered with his dark navy pea coat, dark jeans, and black boots. He still had curly brown hair and olive green eyes and was still tall and thin. He smiled broadly when he saw me and gave me a firm handshake. “Mr. Williams, it’s so great to see you!” “Likewise Landon, you look great. All grow up.” “Yeah, I guess so”. Landon blushed shyly, the nervous boy briefly coming back. “And you can call me Andrew, you’re not a student anymore”. Landon blushed again and smiled. As we sipped our espresso and Landon told me about the medical assistant job he was applying for, I was struck by how cute and handsome Landon was and I felt a stirring in my jeans, which I suppressed. I promised to write Landon’s letter and offered that he could pick it up at my apartment the next evening around 7pm. After giving him my address and directions to my place, he hugged me and thanked me for always being his favorite teacher, and we parted ways. The next evening, after procrastinating all day, I sat down at my kitchen table to write the character reference for Landon. He would be stopping by to pick it up soon. Just for fun I decided to try using the Magic Memo app to write Landon’s letter. I opened the app and spoke “write recommendation/character reference for Landon White”. The app responded with flashing “ready” icon. So, I started to speak “it is with great pleasure that I write this recommendation for my former student...” I trailed off and my own horniness and boredom took over, and I decided to write a fantasy letter. “It is with great pleasure that I write this letter of recommendation for my former student, and current boyfriend, Landon White. I smirked at the thought of college Landon being my fantasy boyfriend (since as a 46 year old slightly overweight balding teacher I had no hope of finding a cute young guy to date). I felt myself unzipping my jeans and my hand reaching for my dick as I recalled how cute Landon had looked in the coffee shop yesterday. Getting into my fantasy character reference/ letter of recommendation I continued with the speech to text feature of the Magic Memo app. “Landon White is an incredibly handsome and hung total top twink who is an expert in the bedroom”. I grabbed my growing dick and stroked before continuing, my imagination taking over. “His chiseled features, high cheekbones, full pouty lips, beautiful green bedroom eyes, curly brown hair, ear and nose piercings and flawless pale skin are super hot.” I felt my dick swell larger in my jeans as I stroked it picturing Landon with piercings and even more handsome features. “Landon is totally committed to me as his lover and is in constant need of hot, horny, passionate sex”. I was really stroking furiously now as my imagination continued to run wild. “Landon’s ripped muscles and perfect six pack are so fucking hot”. I was getting close to cumming. “I love when he fucks me hard, feeling his massive dick penetrate me is all I need”. I grunted and felt myself cum in my hand. “Fuck! that was hot” I thought to myself. The Magic Memo app dinged and I looked at the screen. “Save changes?” I pressed the “yes” button before dropping my phone on the kitchen table and heading to the bathroom to wash up. As I came out of the bathroom I heard noise coming from the kitchen. “Shit, did someone break in while I was cleaning up?” I nervously wondered. As I rounded the corner, I found myself looking at Landon White standing in my kitchen. Except it wasn’t the Landon White I had met for coffee yesterday. Landon had definitely changed. The Landon standing in my kitchen looked exactly as I had just described him in the fantasy letter of recommendation I had written in Magic Memo app. Landon was only a tight white thong that displayed his sculpted torso, pierced nipples, and perfect six pack abs. it was obvious that his thong was struggling to contain what looked like a cucumber. His cute smooth bubble butt and toned legs were gorgeous with his pale skin. “Hey babe, what’s this?” Landon motioned to the open Magic Memo app on my phone as he picked it up. “Landon...how? How did you get in here? And why...why do you look so different?” My head was spinning as the sight of my former student, now a total stud, standing in my kitchen. “Stop kidding daddy you know I live here”, Landon grinned a beautiful perfect smile, his nose piercing and ear gauges glinting in the light. “Wha...Landon, that’s not possible. That letter I wrote in the app was just a fantasy”. Then as I looked at the hot twink in my kitchen it hit me. “Did you...did you just call me “daddy” young man?” “Sure did, babe” Landon smirked with a devilish grin. “Let’s have some fun...daddy” Landon clicked start on the Magic Memo app and spoke “Mr. Williams, Drew and I have been dating since I graduated from high school”. I reached for the phone but Landon pushed me back with his powerful muscular arm. As he pushed me back memories of dating Landon filled my head. Whatever Landon spoke into the app was becoming reality! “Drew’s an amazing power bottom who is totally in love with me” Landon continued as more memories flooded my brain. I frantically tried to get the phone from Landon but the shy boy from the coffee shop had been replaced by a cocky, horny stud who had no intention of stopping. Landon smirked as he held my phone up to his beautiful face and clearly spoke. “Fuck daddy, just look at your big juicy ass “Urrgh...no, stop!” I moaned as I felt my glutes swell up into to big melons and burst through the fabric of my khakis. Landon cupped my big exposed butt with his warm hand and smirked. “Yeah, that’s real nice! I love how my sexy daddy’s big booty just aches for my big, thick cock” Landon cooed in my ear. I almost dropped to my knees as my ass throbbed with the desire to be filled with Landon’s dick. “Oh...fuck...no...Landon...stop...” I moaned gasping for breath. “I just love my daddy’s huge hairy pecs and big, super sensitive, orgasm-inducing nipples” Landon grinned. “No! Oh fuuuccckk!” I practically screamed as I felt my chest expand into two massive globes of thick beef and burst out of my button down shirt. Buttons flew across the room as my freakish muscle tits swelled and forced my thickening nipples toward the floor with their weight and mass. I could see red stretch marks forming near my arm pits as my skin struggled to keep up with my rapidly expanding mass. Landon tweaked one of my newly expanded nipples and wider areolas with his finger and I moaned in pleasure. I could feel my dick shoot cum just from his touch. “My daddy just loves when I play with his big muscle tits” Landon spoke into the app. My face flushed red at the sight of Landon touched my hairy pecs. “Mmmm...more” I moaned as I ripped off the remains of my blue plaid shirt and shredded tan khakis. “My daddy had thick, veiny arms, wide shoulders, and a sexy muscle gut” Landon continued as I felt my body morph to his words. I could sense my shoulders growing wider and my arms swelling with muscle. As I flexed my newly muscular arms I could see big blue veins snaking across my 20 inch bicep. “My daddy’s tree trunk thighs and thick calves are so hairy and sexy” Landon continued with total lust in his eyes. “Landon...please...you’ve got to stop...” I moaned as my legs bulked up and dark hair spread across them. “Oh, I’m not done yet stud” Lance grinned a sexy smile. “My daddy has a super sexy deep voice and beard”. Oh shit!” I murmured as my voice dropped three octaves to a deep rumbling baritone and I could feel hairs sprouting across my jaw as sexy salt and pepper stubble spread across my widening jaw and neck. “Landon...stop this...please!” I groaned in a deep bass that seemed to shake the walls. But Landon just grabbed my dick and spoke into the app: “my daddy is huge everywhere except for his tiny little dick that constantly leaks precum and leaves him horny for me all the time”. “Noooooo!” I moaned as I felt my dick shrink to a tiny nub and start leaking precum. I could think of little else other than how hot and sexy Landon looked and how much I needed him to play with my pecs and fuck my ass. “Urrrghhh...fuuucckk!” I groaned in my deep voice as I sprayed cum all over my muscular hairy body from my tiny nub of a dick. “Fuck yeah, sexy daddy, show me that big ass” Landon purred. I felt so sexy and powerful and in love with both Landon and the complete freak I had become from his words and the Magic Memo app. Full of lust, I immediately bent over a kitchen chair and spread my legs. “You like what you see stud?” I grinned smacking my huge ass with my meaty paw, causing it to bounce and jiggle seductively. “Holy shit...Mr. Williams...I...” for a moment the mind of the old Landon had returned and was horrified at what he had done to me. “Let’s go boy, I want to feel that big fuck stick of yours inside of my hungry man pussy”. My voice snapped Landon back into his new persona and kissed me hard on the lips and our tongues mingled passionately as he flicked my nipple causing me to moan in ecstasy. “Damn you are one fine muscle daddy!” Landon purred, his huge dick growing harder by the minute as he pulled his enormous cock out of his thong and lubed up my willing hole with his spit. “Oh fuck yeah Landon! Daddy needs that big cock” I whimpered and moaned as my own tiny dick leaked cum and I played with my hairy pecs and nipples. “That app really is magic, isn’t it daddy?” “It sure is boy” I breathlessly murmured as Landon shoved his monster cock into my ass. Meanwhile, unnoticed by either of us, my phone that had been tossed onto the floor read “Thank you for using Magic Memo. Your free trial has now ended” before the app deleted itself from my phone.