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Jason, not being able to have its old dormitory anymore, got a new one, next to Nik’s. He was referred as unit 02 now by his former colleagues. When questioned if he preferred to remain as a part of the lab team or join the ranks of the army, Jason chose the latter. Some would say that this was thanks to the mental conditioning of the transformation, but the truth is, Jason was finally being able to live the life he always wanted. Turning into a superhero, having all the muscles, and having a friend, a friend in Nik. They would train separately at the beginning, but thanks to Jason’s conditioning, his new abilities and military knowledge, all of them acquired in the transformation, he would soon catch up, being next to his dear friend also in his military life. Acting like a machine of war in the trainings, both of them. Nik would still wear uniform, but Jason felt more comfortable naked, wearing only his dogtags, feeling the air passing through his new overly sensitive body. Outside of training, they were both the same as before, except for having got a taste for wrestling and other displays of physical prowess. Jason and Nik were dear friends, would talk constantly and as they got to know each other further, they grew further in love. Their sex was not as frequent, they still felt awkward about it somehow, only for special moments, even if, with time, those special moments had a smaller gap. As the transformation raised their sexual desire, both were still tattering on masturbation, something none were very familiar with before. Was a new life for both, and a new reality they would explore together.

I'm a little late for Macro March but just in time for Easter! Life comes at you fast, but sometimes Easter comes at you faster. A seemingly normal Easter Egg hunt leads to some truly massive things. ---------------------------------------------- Mark did a double take when he saw the brightly colored, plastic egg lying in the grass nearby. This had to be some kind of April Fool’s joke, right? It was the beginning of April. It was waaayyyy too early to be doing Easter stuff. Easter was in like three weeks, right? Just to be sure, Mark whipped out his phone and opened up his calendar. To his surprise, Easter was in fact three days away! April 4th? That’s way too early! Personal opinions on when Easter should actually be celebrated aside, brightly colored eggs in the grass could only mean one thing: Free Candy! Mark was not about to turn his nose up at some free chocolate regardless of the holiday. He looked both ways to make sure there was nobody watching him and trotted over to the grass and scooped up the egg. A quick shake of the plastic capsule made it obvious that there was in fact something inside the egg. That was all the incentive that Mark needed to pop the capsule open and empty the contents onto his palm. The candies in question were fairly unremarkable. They appeared to be roughly the same size as M&Ms but without the obvious branding. Despite the lack of a small m on the candies, it looked like a chocolate, it sounded like a chocolate, and it acted like a chocolate, so it was probably a duck. Mark threw caution to the wind and tossed the whole handful into his mouth. Mark chewed, swallowed, and – satisfied with his sugar infusion – headed back towards the path to make his way towards class. He had barely set foot back on the pavement when he saw yet another brightly colored capsule. The first handful of sugar had not been nearly enough to whet his appetite, so Mark wasted no time in making a bee line towards the next egg, but as mark squatted down to pick up the capsule, he felt something very odd. His pants felt tight! It wasn’t just the waist that felt a little snug though. When he squatted down, his quads strained against the denim of his jeans, his calves pushed against the backs of his pants legs, his ass seemed to fill out the entire backside of his formerly loose-fitting jeans! Once the capsule was safely in hand, Mark stood back up and took a moment to look himself over. Sure enough, his jeans were looking pretty snug, but there was quite a bit more to it than that! Mark had pecs! They weren’t massive, but his formerly flat chest now had two discernible mounds of muscle which pressed against the front of his t-shirt. Even his formerly twiggy arms seemed to have a bit of muscle tone to them. Mark’s mind was racing. He was a slacker through and through. The closest he came to lifting was calling a ride-share. When did he get so lithe? It didn’t take long for a thought to pop into his head. He hadn’t noticed the muscles until after he had popped a handful of the unmarked candies. Could the sweets have made him bulk up? Was such a thing possible? One thing was for sure, though. Mark had the potential to pop open another egg and test his theory firsthand which is exactly what his did. Mark didn’t even empty the capsule onto his palm this time. He opened the egg and poured the contents directly into his mouth. Once the sugary pellets were down his throat, Mark stood there and watched his body intently. Mark waited anxiously for a moment. He wasn’t sure how long he was waiting, but time seemed to freeze as he waited with bated breath. Nothing seemed to be happening. He had almost given up hope when he felt it. Mark could actually feel his shirt getting tighter against his swelling pecs. He could feel his jeans straining against his swelling quads. Mark grinned from ear to ear as he looked down at his swelling body. The growth felt so good, but as amazing as it felt, it looked even better! Mark’s pecs strained against his t-shirt. His shirt stretched so taut against his dense muscles that he could actually see the outline of each and every individual abdominal muscle. Mark was so fixated on his muscles that he was oblivious to other changes that were happening to him as well. Had he taken a moment to take stock of the other changes he might have noticed that the bottom hem of his shirt, which formerly hung down so low that they covered his hip pockets, now only reached down to his belly button, and the cuff of his jeans stopped halfway down his calves. He also may have noticed the thick bulge in the front of his jeans. To say Mark was excited by his new muscles would be an understatement. He couldn’t get over how powerful he felt or how hot he looked. He wanted more. He craved more. He needed more! His eyes quickly scanned the lawn around him. Now that his was actively looking, he quickly spotted more and more colorful eggs strewn around the grass and in the nearby bushes. Mark dashed from one egg to the next. He would reach down, scoop up an egg, pop it open, pour the contents into his mouth, and before he could even swallow, he was on his way to his next target. Mark bounced from one target to the next like an old-school DVD screensaver on one helluva sugar rush. He would grab an egg, empty the contents, and find his next target all while steadily creeping up in size and stature. Mark barely even registered it as the tightly woven fabric of his denim pants popped and frayed and stretched and stained. By the fourth egg, his formerly loose t-shirt was looking like a skin-tight crop top. His bulging biceps and triceps were so massive that his sleeves didn’t even make an effort to try and cover them. His sleeves were now balled up around his shoulders, but even that wouldn’t save them for long. His swelling traps and lats were already causing the stitching on the sides of his shirt to pop and fray. Mark was getting so massive that even the canvas of his Converse sneakers was beginning the tear. As Mark emptied the contents of his sixth egg into his mouth, his jeans finally gave up the ghost. A loud rending sound split through the air as the sides of his jeans burst open exposing his legs to the elements. His massive, meaty quads and his thick calves spilled into view. What little bit of his jeans that still remained on his body looked more like a loincloth than pants. Tattered denim clung to his waistband and struggled in vain to block sight of the massive bulge which strained against his formerly baggy boxers. Mark swallowed the sixth egg which caused yet another growth spurt to course through him. This time it was his shirt’s turn to call it quits. His bulging pecs parted his shirt like the Red Sea. His shoes, too, tore clean open as they inevitably failed to stem the rising tide of his swelling feet. The feeling of the cool, spring air upon his nearly nude bod was enough to distract Mark from his egg hunt even if for only a moment. He took a moment to run his fingers across his new and improved muscles. The feeling of his dense, sculpted pecs in the palms of his hands was amazing. Both the feeling of his thick muscles in his hands and the feeling of his hands against his amazing muscles was intoxicating. He knew he needed more. Mark hastily tore away what few tatters of his shirt and jeans remained leaving him clad in only an ill-fitting pair of boxers. His massive, meaty ass was now far too large for his boxers to cover. Instead, the fabric of the backside of his boxers had been swallowed by his enormous, muscular cheeks making it look more like he was wearing a thong than a pair of boxers, and the front was somehow even more indecent. Mark’s cock had grown as well, and it wasn’t just in proportion with the rest of his body. Mark’s dick had previously been fairly modest. He was a grower, not a shower, so when soft, his bait and tackle looked more like an acorn atop a pair of grapes, but now his semi-boned wang was as long and thick as his swole forearm. His nuts were closer to the size of his fists. His package was so massive that there was no way his boxers could hold it all in. The front of his shorts was packed to the brim with balls and then some! Large swaths of sack could be seen poking out of the leg holes. His massive cock was so huge that only the head of it was actually inside the shorts. The rest was left exposed for all to see, and by this point there were quite a few people around to see it! It didn’t take long for word to spread about the massive, nearly nude dude in the center of campus. A crowd of onlookers had begun to form, but Mark was too enthralled by his growth and the hunt for more eggs to notice or care. Had he taken the time to take stock of his surroundings for reasons other than to find his next capsule of candies, he may have noticed that even the tallest onlooker barely reached up to his thighs. Mark only really began to realize how large he had become when the capsules started to become so small in his hands that he was having trouble opening them. They felt more like Tylenol capsules than toy capsules. Still, he was not about to be deterred. Even if they were too small to open properly, if you squeeze them hard enough, they open one way or the other. Mark squeezed a couple of capsules together and then picked out the plastic bits before pouring the candy contents of multiple eggs into his mouth. Mark swallowed his latest bounty and took a moment to bask in the sensations as yet another growth spurt wracked his body. Once again, his muscles surged outward as did other parts of his body. Finally, his boxers had had enough. The waistband snapped causing the tattered fabric to float to the ground in defeat. His massive cock and balls spilled out for all to see. His cock and balls were now so massive that the head of his semi-boned schlong dangled down between his shins, and that was after draping over his colossal nuts which not hung down to his knees. Either enormous orb was larger than even Mark’s head by a good margin! Mark gazed down at his body as he flexed his pecs and biceps. The sheer size and scope of his amazingly muscular body blew even him away! But despite how enthralling his enormous body had become, it didn’t stop him from spotting a large, colorful object in a nearby tree. Mark strode over towards the tree. As he did so the crowd of onlookers scattered to get out of the way. Mark’s heavy footfalls caused the ground around him to tremble causing some scrambling onlookers to stagger and fall. Once Mark reached the tree, he marveled for a moment that the tops of the bough only reached to his hips. His fat cock was as thick as the tree trunk. His massive, meaty quads completely dwarfed the tree trunk for sheer girth, but as fun as it was to completely outclass an old oak tree, that was not the reason he had come all this way. Mark reached out and grabbed a large, colorful, plastic egg that had been placed in the bough of the tree. It was much like the eggs that had been placed in the branches of the nearby bushes, but much larger in scale. This plastic capsule was so large that Mark actually needed both hands to open it. The egg was like the size of a beach ball in Mark’s massive hands! Mark didn’t have time to wonder how it had gotten there or even why it was so large. In his current growth, addicted state it made perfect sense. This egg had been placed there for him. He was the only one large enough to claim it. Mark wasted little time in popped the egg open. Once he did so he was not at all surprised to see that the capsule was chock full of tiny candies. At Mark’s current size the candies were like grains of sand inside the massive capsule. Mark tossed the top of the capsule aside and lifted the candy-laden lower half to his lips as if drinking from an oversized goblet. He didn’t even bother chewing. He poured the tiny candies down his throat as if chugging a keg. As he swallowed gulp after gulp of candies he could feel himself swelling in size. This growth spurt was nothing like the others. This growth spurt was so intense that Mark was dizzied by the sheer speed of it. He could hear the crowd gasp as he surged upwards and outwards in size. He could feel his ears pop as he got taller and taller. He could feel the gigantic goblet of an eggshell dwindle in his hands until it was little more than a teacup. Mark let out a contented sigh as he downed the last of the candy and tossed the eggshell aside. He felt so amazingly powerful and sexy that he was practically giggling. He was so giddy that he couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear as he gazed down at the changes that had gone on in his already titanic body. Mark’s pecs jutted out so far in front of him that they would have eclipsed his view of the tree he had been standing over had his cock and balls not already done that. Mark’s enormous bait and tackle were now so proportionally huge that his nuts nearly scraped the ground at his feet and his cock now rested solidly on the ground in front of him, although given how hot and bothered he was becoming, his cock wouldn’t stay grounded for long. Mark managed to take his eyes off of his colossal cock and balls and his immaculate muscles to look out at the crowd that had gathered around him. Mark could barely comprehend how massive he had become. Everyone looked so tiny to him. They were like ants. Even the helicopters which had begun circling him seemed like flies. Mark noticed the colors on the sides of the helicopters. Even in his current, enthralled state, he recognized the colors of both local and national news outlets. He was no doubt being filmed for all to see. Soon his adoring audience wouldn’t be limited to the city. Soon the whole nation would know – and then the whole world. Mark’s smirk grew wider as he put on a gun show for the tiny film crews which floated around him like gnats. He felt so amazingly sexy and huge and powerful that he just couldn’t help himself. His colossal cock steadily stirred to life before him. Mark could actually hear the cries of shock and excitement from the crowd as his steadily boning rod lifted itself off the ground and begun to jut out in front of him. Mark turned to give his film crew a better view of all his angles. His massive muscles flexed for their tiny lenses. His colossal cock swung threw the air, nearly slapping one of the helicopters out of the sky. Mark flashed a sheepish, apologetic grin at the tiny film crew, but the grin soon gave way to a look of awe and understanding as his gaze fell upon downtown. There, seated on its perch in front of the convention center was one of the gaudiest pieces of modern art the city had ever known. The installation had a real name. Every knew it had a name, but no one used that name because the artist was the most self-absorbed douchebag that ever lived. Instead, everyone always just called it “The Egg” to spite him. But today The Egg looked different. The colossal structure had what could only be described as a crease in the center of it… almost as if it could be opened. Mark staggered towards the installation as if in a daze. The pavement cracked beneath his bulk. Car alarms blared as the reverberations of his footfalls triggered their security systems. Windows rattled from the shockwaves of his heavy steps. The news helicopters kept pace as Mark continued his trek. Did they have any idea where he was headed or why? Mark had no way of knowing. They were now so tiny to him that he could barely even hear the buzz of their propellers. Soon Mark stood in front of his goal. The Egg now lay before him in all its chrome glory. The Egg was massive by most standards, but to Mark it was little bigger than smart car. It was too big for Marc to lift, but there were other ways for him to get at his prize. Mark balled a tight fist and punched his hand clean through the outer shell of The Egg. To the shock of Mark’s audience but not to Mark, The Egg was filled to the brim with tiny candies – candies which were so tiny to the colossal titan that the mass of candy appeared to be almost liquid. Mark scooped handful after handful of the candies into his mouth. With each mouthful he surged in size and strength. Soon he was so massive that he could hoist The Egg above him as if chugging beer straight from the keg at a frat bash. By the time Mark had drained the last of the candies from The Egg, The Egg had gone from the size of a beer keg in Mark’s hands to the size of a beer can. Mark shrugged and effortlessly chucked the broken art piece into the bay. The Egg crashed down with enough force to cause waves large enough to send ships almost a quarter of a mile inland. Mark once more glanced out at the world around him. He was now even more massive and muscular than ever. Even the tallest skyscrapers in downtown barely reached up to his belly button. His colossal cock alone completely dwarfed even the largest structure around. His enormous nuts were now so massive that they rested solidly on the ground. Even just one colossal cojone could fill an entire football stadium and then some! Mark was so huge, so powerful, so sexy! He just couldn’t take it anymore! He reached forward with both hands and grabbed onto his massive cock. Mark’s colossal cock was so enormous that even the titanic stud couldn’t get his hands around it. It was like trying to grapple a Clydesdale. The best Mark could do was lean forward so that he was all but resting atop his own nuts and wrap his arms around the beast as if trying to suplex it. Even then, Mark’s cock was so enormous that he couldn’t even come close to wrapping his arms all the way around it, but it was enough for what he had in mind. Using every muscle in his titanic, yoked bod, Mark ran his hands along the length of his enormous rod. Every muscle in his body flexed and rippled as he grappled with the behemoth. The ground shuddered with the intensity of his thrusts. As Mark stroked his skyscraper-sized schlong, images of people he once knew crept into his mind. What would they think of him now that he was a literal god to them? He was so massive compared to even the biggest jock on campus. Would he even be able to see them anymore or were they little more than specs of dust to him? Mark tried to fathom just how massive he had become. He was so huge that his entire Bio class could hold their lab on just the tip of one of his nipples. Mark’s mind drifted to the news helicopters that were no doubt still floating around him. They were so tiny that he couldn’t even hear them. They were smaller than gnats to him. Mark had to wonder how much of his rippling, muscular bod could they even get in the frame. He was so massive that they’d have to get miles away to get a clean shot of his whole body. He couldn’t help but wonder, just what part of his massive body would they try to film? Would they try to get his face? His massive, meaty ass? His flexing, muscular backside? Would they get a shot of his colossal, pre-drooling slit? Even just the slit of his monolithic cock was so huge that even the Ever Green couldn’t get stuck in it. Mark grinned as he thought about the people watching the news at home. Even the biggest screen wouldn’t do the video justice. Even an IMAX would look like a postage stamp compared to the sheer size and scope of his colossal body. He was just so ridiculously mind and load-blowingly huge that he had to be seen to be believed, and even the people who saw him couldn’t believe it. Mark’s thoughts continued to run wild as he fantasized about how huge he had become while stroking his colossal cock. His breaths became loud, low, breathy moans that reverberated for miles around. Pre fell on the streets below as massive, viscous meteors. Even just his pre had begun to flood the streets. When he finally blew it would be a deluge for the ages. Mark didn’t last much longer. He was so horny from his growth that even had he not been actively stroking his cock, he would have popped like a champaign bottle before long. His full-body rub down of his dick just sped up the process. He let out a loud moan that was almost a roar. The sheer force of his cry shattered windows for miles around. His colossal cock gave a hard lurch and then another and then the shooting started. Thick, heavy ropes of warm spunk erupted from his volcano of a cock. Much of the heavy muck landed with a crash in the bay, but quite a bit of it rained down upon the streets below. Cars and trucks vanished in an instant under a thick layer of white spooge. Most of the audience had had the common sense to seek higher ground, but some of Mark’s more ardent admirers soon found themselves swimming in a lake of hot, thick titan cum. The muck was so thick that it was almost like swimming through rubber cement. The tiny people felt more like they were crawling out of it as opposed to swimming through it. Mark came and came again. His colossal stadium-filling nuts pumped out gallon upon gallon upon gallon of spooge. Either enormous nut had enough spunk crammed in it to fill a water tower a hundred times over! It wasn’t long before it became impossible to tell where downtown ended and the bay begun. Everything was just an ocean of cum with a few tall buildings sticking out of it. Eventually, the titan’s loads began to taper off until his cock managed a few weak, watery spurts before stopping altogether. His colossal cock, which would dwarf even the biggest building in Dubai, softened until it landed with a reverberating splat in the muck that surrounded the city and bay. Mark was so addled by the mind-blowing climax and the overwhelming afterglow that his thoughts were scattered and fragmented. All he could do was lie there atop his own massive cock and balls with a grin plastered across his face and cum plastered across his muscles, but even through the haze, he could manage to piece together one coherent thought. This was the beginning of a new life for Mark – a life as a god.

Hey guys. I haven't been very active here for a long time. Must have been a year at least. But I'd really like to be again, because this is my favorite community and place to be on the interwebs. So I figured I'd just upload my recent project here. It's posted in the Stories Category, because it tells a kind of story, and doesn't really fit in the Media category. I have this up on Twitter as well~ The story has the magical name of "Egon muscular shot 03 outtake" or EMSO, how I prefer to call it. The reason it has this silly, ugly name is because this was never planned to be or meant to be a full project. But now here I am working on Page 112... Please let me know what you think!

So this is kind of a submission for Macro March was an idea that was bouced back and forth between me and a friend of mine so I decided to write it up. This is a story of a super strong hyper semi-giant rhino and a dragon with similar endowments so if that combined with them using strength and endowments to destroy isn't your thing then this story might not be for you. Without further adieu: Sex World The rhino walked down the street. He stood a modest six foot tall with a body to die for. His muscles looked as though he might never have ever have been anywhere outside a gym in his life. To say he was cut, ripped, shredded, or buff would have been the greatest understatement ever said. The clothing he wore must have been custom made to fit his enormous bod. Every movement was a miracle in the fact that his clothes stretched and bulged without ripping and shredding off his arguably perfect frame. He had thick, tough rhino skin that was white and pink, revealing that he must have been an albino rhino but what's more was that atop his head was a coif of tall, thick, hair like that of a greaser from the 50s and the color was a deep sapphire blue. It complimented his eyebrows and the beard that rested on his chin. In point of fact all his body was covered in the luscious hair from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, making him quite the hirsute specimen. His eyes were like twin pools of blue with the color taken straight from a hidden Caribbean cove and they sang out from behind the silver horns down his nose. The only clothing he wore was a pair of far overstretched knee-length shorts and a bright red tee shirt that. Both of which threatened to tear free from his body at the slightest over flex of his muscles. On his feet were a pair of red flip flops that clapped on his heels as he walked through the city. The weight of his hyper dense muscle body causing the pavement to crack a little just from his light steps as he walked through what appeared to be an abandoned city with skyscrapers as far as the eye could see. ...and it was just that. In point of fact, those with his abilities found it hard to be around most others as property damage was nigh inevitable. So the world he was on in this far future destination was made to be entirely disposable. There were cities, beaches, forests, lakes, mountains and every sort of environment and setting one would find on a world from our time, except they were made just for people with this rhino's particular set of abilities. The entire planet was devoid of life forms except the rhino... and one other. You see this was his world made to allow him to do so as he pleased with and today was the day of his big date. He had set the planet generator to make this place a replica of one of his favorite holo settings. 1950s Earth. And so it was replicated in nearly every detail, only he made sure to build up the cities a bit more. Make them a bit bigger and to have far taller buildings. Some of the skyscrapers reached as high as 500 stories, which required architecture knowledge from a bit further along in Earth's history, but the Rhino was fine with a few inaccuracies. He looked in the mirrored glass of a nearby office building and pulled a comb from his pocket to then adjust his hair. He went to put it back in but decided it was too difficult and then just tossed it aside. His light toss embedded the ordinary plastic comb in the side of the building across the street. "Oops. Tee hee." the rhino snickered and then continued his leisurely walk. He then saw it. Falling from the sky a half mile away. His date was arriving. The massive rhino saw the fireball fall like a meteor, except it wasn't burning up and on impact it crashed right through a building and leveled an entire city block in all directions, the crater went two hundred feet deep into the ground. The rhino began to excite, the volleyball sized bulge in his shorts was starting to swell, but then he took a few small breaths and calmed himself. He squatted slightly and launched himself into the air, flying in a single leap as the Hulk might have in comics of old Earth. The rhino landed with an impact that left a ten foot deep crater and flipped over all the cars lining the street within a hundred foot radius of his landing. He walked out of the crater to stand at the precipice of another. The crater he stood before had a figure knelt down in it, smoking as he cooled off. The figure stood to his full nine foot eight, totally nude except for a silver thong that contained a bulge to put even the rhino to shame. He walked forth with a body equally as muscled but with three feet in height on the other man. He was an emerald anthro eastern dragon with white hair atop his head that trailed down his back to run along his long tail that culminated in a poof of his fur like hair at the tip. His shoulders, forearms, shins, tops of his hands and tops of his feet all had large tufts of the white fur. Fur went around his wrists and ankles like extra long haired cuffs to help frame his extremities. His chest was quite hirsute with and extra thick tuft of fur in the dead center that went down in a treasure trail through his super deep abs to whatever treasure might lie in the amazingly overstuffed silver thong that held his fantastic package. They stood chest to chest breathing heavily as they each took the other in. "So good to finally see you in person," said the rhino. "Likewise," said the dragon with his tail wagging happily, "Somehow I thought your compressed form would be taller like mine." The rhino flexed a bit and grew six inches in a few seconds. His clothing barely held with small rips forming in a number of places. He looked to the dragon and said, "I have worked for years to flex down small as I can... always worried if I let myself get to a truer size it might scare off locals." The dragon then lifted the smaller rhino like he was a feather and drew him in for a long passionate kiss, "Well there are no locals here. What say we just go about our normal sizes?" The dragon smiled. The rhino reciprocated then pushed away, leading the pair of them to a clearer spot. A city square was a few blocks away and with dozens of skyscrapers in every direction but the rhino was more interested in a smaller structure. A 50s diner. He stopped in front of it and said, "Unflex for me. Let me see you as you are." The dragon was happy to oblige and with a sigh of relief his muscles swelled in a most unnatural fashion as he released his form upon the world. His biceps, and hands swelled, then his forearms followed by his feet and his calves. Soon after his thighs and abs ballooned out followed by his abs and pecs and boy did those pecs swell. They engulfed the rhino's head as he leaned over. The massive cock and balls hit the ground with a thud as he squatted, when fully stood up he would have been 12 feet tall with gargantuan muscles beyond what most could ever imagine. The rhino grinned as his head popped up from between the apple scented, musky sweaty, hairy, pecs of that emerald and white dragon before him, "Not bad, but catch what I look like at my regular size." The rhino's popping muscles flexed, doubling his chest in size and exploding out with too much muscle for the shirt to stand it. It knocked the dragon back as those pecs continued to swell bigger and bigger. He stood taller, his feet swelling and popping the flip flops right off him. A few light flexes was all it took for the remnants of his shirt to tear and flutter away. The dragon licked his lips as the rhino swelled, the shorts ripping off with no effort at all. Pumped muscle swelling bigger and popping with audible thooms as he grew from his six foot height to one of 15 feet so that he towered over the massive 12 foot tall dragon man. He groaned and then hugged the dragon to him, engulfing him in massive man boobs that encompassed his head, antlers and all, hugging him gently in their blueberry scented embrace of musk and moist deliciousness. He set the dragon down and walked over to the diner, able to now see the top of the building. He thrust his still soft and now four foot long cock through the front of the brick and mortar like it were nothing, displaying his huge hairy bubble butt for the dragon and said, "Get to work." The dragon needed no further prompting as his eyes bulged out in a cartoonish fashion then returned to his head. he knelt before the ass of the rhino and began to massage it with impossibly strong hands. The rhino moaned and let his cock loose. It unspooled while unerect out before him, into the diner rapidly like a firehose unspooling within the restaurant. He groaned as the dragon's nipples began to harden and lengthen till they were foot long eight inch thick bastions of pleasure like miniature cocks on their own. He then got a naughty idea and pressed one of his massive nips between the hairy ass cheeks of the rhino. The restaurant had crashes and crunches from within as the unspooling cock continued to fill it from the outside. The rhino moaned and groaned as the nipple swelled and grew bigger, thrusting up his mighty ass like no cock he'd ever felt, then the dragon erupted with gallons and gallons of man milk from that hyper nipple within the rhino. The unspooling cock quadrupled the speed at which it unspooled only slowing once the restaurant was nearly full. Then the rhino looked back and saw the dragon's own unerect cock was now at least 15 feet long but it started to harden, getting impossibly wide, impossibly long, and impossibly hard in the process. The rhino, not to be outdone, finally finished uleashing his unerect cock. It swelled so much that it had burst the small restaurant and lay in a pile of rubble before his feet and that of the dragon. The dragon moaned and his other nipple moved along the rhino's body like a snake but flexed in a cubic shape as it reached around him then lifted him off the ground, going to one of the rhino's massive nipples and inserting itself within. The rhino spoke in a roaring growl, “FUUUCCCK YEAAAAH. FILL ME LITTLE MAN!” The sound of his voice made the dragon instantly hard, his erection becoming a full 50 feet long and shooting straight through an armored car, his apple musk intensified as he got turned on ever more. Then the really unleashed his milk within the rhino. Erupting with dozens of gallons in every orgasmic spurt. The rhino lolled out his tongue and it went out further and further, licking over the apple scented nipple snake and then he flexed hard, getting his muscles to swell even bigger. Then his giant cock hardened with a gutteral roar, “YYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSS” the roar shook the whole city as his cock erected to a size of cock heretofore unknown in the universe. It went from a spool of white and pink flesh coiled on the ground in the rubble of a restaurant to a massive expanding rod the likes of which resembled a train raging from his crotch into a long baloon. It raged forward bigger and bigger, punching through buildings till it started plowing through buildings but even then there was no stopping the rhino's cock. It only got bigger as the massive dragon pleasured him and it shot forth with the speed of a bullet. CRASH BAM THOOM THOOM THOOM CRUNCH CRACK RUMBLE BOOOOOM THOOOM THOOOM THOOMM THOOOOM THOOOM THOOM THOOM THOOOOOOM the massive cock pounded it's way straight through every building in front of it for three straight blocks. Then once fully hard it stood rigid and throbbing with a BOOMBOOM BOOMBOOM BOOMBOOM of his every heartbeat. Then at a thousand feet long, the rhino flexed his cock, lifting an entire three city blocks worth of buildings at once. The giant muscled dragon stared in awe around the powerful ass of the rhino as he filled it with his milk and then without warning, just seeing the rhino expand so powerfully... his cock lurched up, grew to twice it's length and five times as thick, bursting the armored car off it and he came. He erupted with millions of gallons of cum from his impossible fuck stick and the white seed rained down over the entire city. The rhino moaned and was not to be out done. He looked over his shoulder then winked as the real show was about to begin. The albino rhino flexed his cock as he put his hands be hind his head in a casual no hands flex. Then he flexed his beyond belief freight train cock and lifted the entire three city blocks at once. Not only did he lift them but as his cock rose, the tip rose faster than the base. The buildings at the far end of his cock found themselves being cut in half length wise as the cock rose up through them and tossed them away off to the sides in explosive clouds of destruction. The giant cock lifted the buildings towards the middle and thrust them upwards, launching them skyward till they flew over and behind the pair of lovers. Those buildings closer to the base of the rhino cock slid down the cock and crushed against his invincible torso, exploding around and across his lover and himself with the rubble of destruction. As the rhino cock pointed skyward his testicles unfurled and slammed into the ground with the power of his massive load being unleashed and as they tightened they slammed down and cratered the ground under him and his lover. Then his giant cock blew up in size till it was literally a mile high and at the widest point stood 400 feet wide. The palpable explosion blew out the glass in every building for a mile in all directions and all buildings nearby the cock when it exploded in size blew them away. There were so many explosions with rubble and dust everywhere that it was hard to see or hear anything, but when the rhino's cock went off, the dragon could tell. The pecs flexed around one nipple while his ass started milking the other nip hardcore. Then there was the burst of wind and explosive sound that blew out from the giant mile high tower of rhino cock. The giant rhino cock erupted with the power of a thousand volcanos aimed directly at the moon. Unfortunately for the moon of that fabricated Earth, it was no match for the power of the rhino's cock. They massive cock blasted billions upon billions of gallons into space and on impact it blew through the moon, coating an entire side before blasting the front of the moon out of the back side of the planetoid. After an hour of straight space blasting orgasmic bliss with countless slorping, splurging, sloshing, gushing and blorping sounds, and a thousand more orgasms from his draconic friend. The rhino sighed in relief as the hundred foot dragon cock unerected and fell into the sea of cum he had produced with his friend, then the massive cock of that rhino fell back to earth. It landed upon buildings, cars, streets, and all that it hit were crushed under it's massive weight. The dragon fell back, his nipples and cock already to returning to more normal proportions as he was scooped up by the massive rhino and drawn into a long passionate kiss. The pair kissed as the shattered moon spread over the skies and the sun began to set. The giant cock of the rhino began to retract as he looked to his draconic date and asked, “Ready for round two?” The dragon smiled, “I thought you would never ask.”

This is my first story. I intend on expanding it or continuing it. Let me know your thoughts. THE KID FREAK Oliver is just entering 12th grade, when he starts to notice some changes happening to him. Oliver had always been a tall, skinny, geeky kid with dark hair and green eyes. His mother is a Chemistry professor at a local college. She always encouraged her son to study, get good grades and perhaps be a professor one day. When Oliver wanted to play sports, she generally discouraged it. It’s the beginning of 12th grade and there’s a party at Candy Johnson’s house. Candy is a popular girl because she’s not just beautiful, she’s smart as well. Her parties always attracted the jocks and the nerds, a rare mix. Oliver is hanging with a couple of his World of Warcraft buddies, when an arm wrestling match breaks out between a couple of the big jocks at the kitchen table, Big Mike, from Oliver’s high school, and Brock, from a rival high school. They were both shirtless. Big Mike is 6’ tall, 230 lbs, but he’s not lean. He’s got brown hair and a scruffy face. He’s pretty thick. Brock is 6’1” tall and weighs 210 lbs with blonde hair and blue eyes but is pretty lean. The match starts, and Oliver is mesmerized by the test of strength. Both guys have pretty big arms, but Brock’s arms are more defined with a nice peak to his biceps. After about 30 seconds, Brock puts Big Mike down. “It’s getting easier to beat you, Fatty,” says Brock, with a big smile on his face. Big Mike responds, “The only reason you can beat me is because your father is a pro arm wrestler!” “He’s actually the Super Heavyweight World Champion!” says Brock. Brock catches Oliver staring at him. “You wanna arm wrestle, Nerd?” asks Brock. “Umm…no.” Oliver’s friends push him over to the kitchen table. Melvin, a nerdy, skinny kid with thick glasses, says, “C’mon Olly! You’re stronger than you think!” Brock puts his elbow on the table and wiggles his fingers. Oliver looks around at everyone staring and slowly puts his elbow on the table and locks hands with Brock. Big Mike starts them up. “Ready, Go!” Brock and Oliver start slow. Brock is smiling because he knows he has total control. He’s going against a skinny geek. Brock starts to put some real effort into putting Oliver down, but he’s noticing it’s much harder than expected. Big Mike says, “C’mon Brock, stop playin’! Put him down!” Brock pushes harder, but Oliver is not going down easily. Melvin pulls up the sleeve of Oliver’s oversized t-shirt to reveal a small, but ripped and peaked biceps. Big Mike’s eyes show surprise. “Holy shit! I didn’t expect that from Olly,” says Mike. Brock is sweating and now putting maximum effort into beating Oliver. After 45 seconds, he finally puts Oliver down. “Holy shit, Oliver! You’re a lot stronger than I expected. You put up a real fight!” exclaims Big Mike. Brock butts in, “No way, dude. You tired me out. I would destroy him fresh.” Big Mike pulls Oliver aside. “Have you ever lifted weights?” Oliver responds, “No. My mom never let me play any sports. She just wanted me to study.” “Bro, let me train you. You have incredible potential,” says Mike. “You really think so?” “Fuck yeah, I do. Somehow, you’ve built some muscle and strength from doing nothing. Let’s see what you can do if you actually lift weights and challenge yourself.” Oliver agrees to do it. *** Oliver shows up to the football gym with Brock, after all the players have left. “Let’s get some baseline measurements, Olly. Take your shirt off and jump on the scale.” Oliver looks around. “No one is here, buddy,” says Mike. Oliver takes off his shirt. “You’re quite skinny, but you don’t have an ounce of fat.” Oliver has a lot of veins showing as well. Oliver steps on the scale. “Okay, your height is 6 feet tall, and you weigh 155 pounds. Let’s measure your arm.” Oliver flexes his arm and a small, but ripped and peaked biceps appears. Mike measures it. “Wow, Olly, you’re not big, but your bicep is peaked and has great shape. It’s almost 15 inches.” “Really?” asks Oliver. “I swear. When you start to add size, I wouldn’t be surprised if you could be a serious bodybuilder.” “But I want to be strong, so people like Brock can’t pick on me or make fun of me anymore.” “Olly, there is something about you. I think you could be, not just a bodybuilder, but maybe one of the strongest bodybuilders.” “I’m just a nerd,” says Oliver. “I know it appears that way, but something in my gut is telling me different,” responds Mike. Mike takes a couple more measurements. Waist, 27 inches. Quads, 23 inches. Mike takes Oliver over to the bench press. “I’m going to test your strength in different exercises to get your baseline max in each exercise. Then we can measure again every few months.” Oliver agrees. After several warmup sets, Mike puts 155 lbs on the bar. “Anyone that can bench press their bodyweight for 10 reps is considered to be in good shape.” Oliver takes the bar and starts to bench press. He presses it 10 times very easily. “Yes! Too easy!” says Mike. Mike loads 225 lbs. Oliver bench presses it for 5 reps. Mike loads 275 lbs. Oliver bench presses it for 1 rep. “Holy shit, Olly! I knew it! I knew there was something about you.” Oliver is surprised. “Is this considered good?” “Bro, you’re skinny as fuck weighing 155 lbs, and you just bench pressed 275 lbs! And look at yourself in the mirror!” Oliver goes to the mirror. He’s never seen his muscles pumped. He’s sweaty and shiny. His chest is showing a little thickness and rips like he’s never seen before. Abs are shredded. He flexes his arms, and they appear bigger and more ripped. Oliver finishes the rest of the tests. He ended up squatting and deadlifting 305 lbs. He curled 120 lbs on a straight bar. Oliver and Mike agree to keep training together and to keep everything under wraps. No showing off, and Oliver will continue wearing baggy clothes to hide his gains until they decide to reveal them. *** Over the entire 12th grade and into the summer, Mike trained Oliver in secret, nearly every day. Mike and Oliver were shocked at Oliver’s gains. The main state college branch is in their hometown, and freshman year has started, so Mike takes down Oliver’s stats and tests his strength. Height, 6’. Weight, 180 lbs. Biceps, 18.5”. Waist, 28.5”. Quads, 25”. One rep maxes…Bench press, 495 lbs. Straight bar curls, 225 lbs. Squat, 725 lbs. Deadlift, 755 lbs. Oliver asks, “So, honestly, Mike, how do you think I’m doing?” Mike shakes his head in astonishment. “Bro, you’ve far exceeded my expectations. In one year, you look like a real competitive bodybuilder, but what’s blowing my mind, is your strength to weight ratio.” “What about it,” asks Oliver. “You totally don’t get it, do you,” asks Mike. Oliver has a blank stare. “Bro, at this rate, you’re going to be benching over 600 lbs in a few months and maybe you’ll be the lightest person to ever do that,” Mike exclaims. “Whoa…” Oliver is blown away. “I had no idea.” Mike nods his head. “Maybe it’s time for you to test your strength against others.” Oliver smiles. *** A couple months later, it’s time for Candy’s yearly party. Big Mike takes Oliver with him. It’s chilly outside, so Oliver wears a jacket. Oliver and Mike go into the house. It’s quite warm with all the kids partying. They go into the kitchen, where there are about 15 guys and girls. Mike grabs a beer for Oliver. Oliver takes a sip and looks at Mike. He processes the taste. He looks at Mike and smiles. “I never thought I would like beer, but it’s actually pretty good,” says Oliver. An hour goes by, and Mike and Oliver drink about 6 or 7 beers, when Oliver’s nerdy friends show up. “Oliver!” screams Melvin. A big smile comes across Oliver’s face. Melvin shakes Mike’s hand and then Oliver’s. “It’s been a year, since I’ve seen you, Olly,” says Melvin. “I know. Big Mike here has been training me, so I haven’t had a lot of time. I miss you guys.” “Yeah, I knew something was up, and when I just shook your hand, it’s so much bigger,” says Melvin. “Come here. I want you to feel something,” says Oliver. Mike smirks. Melvin comes in close. Oliver flexes his biceps by his side. His jacket arm fills out. Melvin’s eyes get big. He puts both hands around Oliver’s biceps. “Oh my God, Oliver!” Oliver’s heart rate increases with the exhilaration of his friend. “Your arms are massive and hard as a rock!” Oliver smiles and looks at Mike, who nods back at him. “I can’t wait to show you what I can do with this muscle,” says Oliver. Mike says, “It won’t be long. Look who showed up.” Brock walks into the kitchen with a couple friends, Jeff and Scott, both pretty big guys. He’s wearing a tank top and looking bigger and leaner than last year. Brock sees Big Mike. “Yo, Mike! You’re looking bigger than last year,” says Brock. “I am bigger,” replies Mike. “Not as big as this,” says Brock. Brock hits a double biceps shot showing off his 18-inch biceps. “That’s true, but your arms aren’t as big as Olly’s,” says Mike. “What? The nerd I beat last year?” asks Brock. “I wouldn’t call him that anymore, Brock. Show him, Olly.” Oliver steps forward and looks at Mike. Mike nods his head. Oliver is sweating profusely from wearing the jacket in the hot house. Oliver slowly unzippers his jacket. First a glimpse of his chest and then his abs. He removes his jacket and a few audible gasps come from some of the kids in the kitchen. “Oh my God,” says Melvin. Oliver is standing there, dripping sweat, pumped and totally ripped with thick slabs of muscle and not an ounce of fat. Even Mike is shocked. “Show the arm wrestler some real arms, Olly,” says Mike. Oliver hits a front double biceps shot. His arms are ripped with huge peaks, hitting 19.5” with a thick biceps vein. “You may be big, but I’ll destroy you in arm wrestling. I just won the state championship,” exclaims Brock. Mike says, “Let’s do this!” Brock takes a seat at the end of the long kitchen table as does Oliver. They put their elbows on the table and clasp hands. Some of the kids start recording video with their phones. Jeff starts them off. “Ready, Go!” Brock screams and hits first bringing Oliver’s arm down about halfway. Brock laughs. Brock leans in with his shoulder putting all his weight into it to put down Oliver. Mike screams, “C’mon Olly! Don’t let him intimidate you! You’re stronger than he is! Get angry!” Oliver screams and starts pulling hard. His biceps vein starts to pop thicker, and the cords of muscle of his biceps start to increase in prominence. Oliver bends his wrist activating his huge forearms, pumping bigger. Oliver’s biceps start to peak larger as he starts to move Brock’s arm up. “Jesus, look at the kid’s arm,” says one of the guys watching. Oliver pulls his arm almost back to the center position, when Brock grabs the side of the table with his free arm. He screams and using all his strength pulls Oliver back down to the halfway point again. Mike screams, “Brock is cheating grabbing onto the side of the table!” Jeff responds, “No way, bro. Arm wrestling tables have pegs on the side to grab, so it’s fair.” “Okay, but the table is too long for Olly to grab the side with his hand,” retorts Mike. Jeff just shrugs his shoulders. Melvin screams, “C’mon Olly. Show me that muscle, that strength!” Oliver grunts loud and pulls hard, but he can’t move Brock. “No way you can pull through this!” Brock laughs. Oliver screams and pulls with everything he has. At first, he doesn’t move, but after a few seconds, Oliver starts to move Brock’s arm back. Jeff screams, “No way! He’s doin’ it!” Scott adds, “Yeah, and he’s doing it with just one arm!” Oliver’s skin is paper-thin showing all the muscle fibers in his cannonball shoulder and his biceps and triceps, rippling. His biceps is peaking extremely high as he gets back to the center. Melvin says, “Jesus, his arm is more massive than Brock’s!” Brock gets angry and screams trying to pull Oliver back down, but Oliver is ready for it and holds him there. Brock tries several times but can’t break through. Oliver screams and starts to pull Brock down. Oliver’s abs and chest are completely shredded as those muscle groups help with the effort. Oliver’s biceps vein is pumping huge amounts of blood to the muscle as it continues overpowering Brock’s efforts. Brock screams and tries will all his strength to stop Oliver, but Oliver’s ripped muscle is just too strong. “Yeah,” screams Oliver as he continues pushing Brock’s arm down. Oliver stops his assault with Brock’s wrist three inches above the table. He looks at Brock. Oliver shifts his weight and arm position so that he’s just using his triceps. “Give me everything you have,” says Oliver. Brock screams, trying to pull with everything he has. Oliver’s triceps explodes as he takes everything Brock has and overpowers him, slowly pushing Brock’s arm down. Scott says, “Holy shit! The kid’s just using his triceps to overpower Brock! That’s just raw strength!” A few seconds later, Oliver pushes Brock’s arm to the table. Mike screams, “Yeah! You did it, Olly!” “You cheated! You had to have cheated,” said Brock. “Bullshit! I even let you use both hands,” screams Oliver. Brock looks around the room. “You all better delete those videos before I beat your asses.” One of the kids says, “Sorry man. I think that kid Joey was live on Instagram.” “I’m gonna kill him,” Brock screams. Brock runs out looking for Joey. Oliver turns to Mike, “I was acting.” “What,” asks Mike. Oliver responds, “Yeah, he was very easy to arm wrestle. I just screamed for effect.” Mike smiles. “Son of a bitch! You’re getting too strong!” Mike and Oliver grab another beer. All of a sudden, there is a commotion out back by the pool. Mike and Oliver walk out to see what’s going on. Everyone is surrounding some big man, trying to get autographs. “Holy shit! It’s Grip Master,” screams Mike. “Who’s that,” asks Oliver. “He’s a huge professional wrestler that beats his opponents in unbreakable wrestling holds,” Mike responds. “Candy’s older brother is friends with him,” he adds. As Mike and Oliver approach, some of the kids gasp as they see Oliver, pumped and sweaty from his arm wrestling match. Grip Master, who has a shaved head and is 6’5” tall and weighs 310 lbs, looks over to see what’s going on. Mike says, “Hey Grip Master! Huge fan! Could we get a pic with you?” Grip Master responds, “Well, shit, this guy is going to out angle me.” Mike says, “Naa, he’s a kid. He doesn’t even watch pro wrestling.” Grip Master asks, “Wait, he’s a kid?” “Yeah, he’s just 19 years old, but he’s a KID FREAK.” “How big are you,” asks Grip Master. “I’m 6 feet tall and weigh 205 lbs,” says Oliver. “You look much bigger than that,” says Grip Master. Mike adds, “What’s freaky is his strength. The kid bench pressed 585 lbs yesterday in his workout, and he did it easily.” Grip Master gives a skeptical look and says, “I seriously doubt that. I can bench press 680 lbs, and I’m much bigger than him. No one can bench press 585 lbs at his bodyweight.” Mike responds, “It’s true! If we had a bench press here, Olly could show you.” Mike thinks for a second. “What if he could break one of your unbreakable wrestling holds? Would you believe him if he could do that?” Mike asks. “Yeah, but we all know that’s impossible,” Grip Master responds. Oliver adds, “Please, let’s try it. I want to test my strength against you.” Grip Master starts to walk around Oliver, slowly, eyeing him up and down. Mike starts recording video on his phone. Grip Master slips behind Oliver and wraps his arms around Oliver’s torso from the back, putting him into a reverse bearhug, pinning his arms by his side. Oliver winces in pain. All the kids gather around to watch this test of strength. Some are recording it with their phones. Grip Master lifts Oliver off the ground, shaking him and crushing him. Oliver tries to pull his right arm up. His shoulder is ripped and pumped as he puts forth the effort. His arm starts to slowly slide up, especially will all the slippery sweat. He frees his right arm and starts on his left arm, pulling up. Grip Master is tightening his hold, but Oliver is strong enough with the slickness of his body to pull out his left arm. Now Grip Master tightens his hold enough to push the air out of Oliver’s lungs. He starts coughing. “C’mon Oliver! You have to break his grip,” screams Mike. “No way he can do that,” screams one of the kids. Oliver breaths in deep and screams, hitting a massive front double biceps shot. Gasps from the crowd as they are in awe of his massive and shredded physique. Grip Master’s hold is that he’s grabbing his right wrist with his left hand. Oliver crisscrosses his hands, grabbing Grip Master’s right fist with his right hand and grabbing Grip Master’s left hand with his left hand. Oliver screams and starts pulling apart as if he’s trying to bend the bars of a steel cage. His biceps explode in size with thick biceps veins pumping massive amounts of blood to his incredible ripped muscle. Every muscle fiber can be seen. His lats expand with the massive effort being put forth. Grip Master is holding the grip in place. “Nice try kid, but you’re going to have to try harder than that,” says Grip Master. Oliver screams and pulls harder. His biceps seem to be getting larger with the effort as well as his forearms. Sweat is dripping down his heaving chest and his chiseled abs. Grip Master seems to be starting to labor a bit. One of the kids says, “This kid is ripped as fuck, and he’s making Grip Master work!” Hearing that excites Oliver. Oliver screams again increasing the pressure. Grip Master starts to breath heavy. Another kid says, “This kid’s arms are huge.” “Yeah, and his strength is insane,” responds another. Oliver goes nuts after hearing that, screams and pulls with everything he has. His ripped biceps are nearly exploding with every muscle fiber showing through his paper-thin skin. His shoulders are huge, round and ripped. Abs are shredded. Oliver looks down at his own body, in awe of his incredible strength. He slowly starts to pull apart Grip Master’s unbreakable reverse bearhug. “Yeah,” Oliver screams as he feels himself overpower the strongest grip in professional wrestling. Oliver can hear the kids… “Impossible,” “No way,” “He’s breaking free!” Oliver slowly pulls his hands apart. Grip Master screams and, using his incredible chest strength, stops Oliver. Grip Master tries to close it back up, but somehow Oliver’s arms and shoulders begin to overpower Grip Master’s incredible chest strength, continuing to pull apart his arms. Grip Master falls backwards, staring at his hands in shock. He then looks back at Oliver as Oliver turns back around. Oliver screams and hits a front double biceps, with biceps that must be over 20 inches, pumped. Mike walks over to Oliver. “Believe it now, Grip Master,” asks Mike. “Hell yeah. I’ve never felt that much power before from anyone!” Oliver smiles. *** Another year goes by. Mike continues training Oliver in secret. Somehow Oliver continues making incredible gains in size and strength. Oliver’s latest stats are: Height, 6’. Bodyweight, 230 lbs. Biceps, 22 inches. Waist, 30 inches. Quads, 28 inches. Oliver’s strength level is incredible with a 685 lb bench press, 275 lb strict straight bar curl, 960 lb squat and a 980 lb deadlift. His bodyfat is as low as it has ever been. “How would you like to test your physique against bodybuilders and your strength against arm wrestlers, powerlifters and strongmen, all in the same day,” asks Mike. “Hell, yeah, but where can we do this?” “At the Arnold Classic this weekend. It’s two months away. Let’s see what kind of gains you can make until then.” responds Mike. Oliver says, “Let’s do it!” *** Mike and Oliver are in their hotel room at the Arnold Classic. They are lying in their beds resting. “You awake,” asks Oliver. “Yeah, what’s up?” “My mom hasn’t really spoken with me much about my gains. I thought it was weird because she never encouraged me to do any athletic or physical activity. It was always about studying. So, I asked her if she was shocked by my transformation,” says Oliver. “Okay,” responds Mike Oliver continues, “She says she wasn’t. She met my father in a one night stand. She never even got a picture with him, but he was an incredibly built man with muscles everywhere and no bodyfat. What made her lust for him was an incredible feat of strength he performed.” “What did he do?” “A car accident happened in front of a gym. He was training after hours. My mom was waiting for a taxi, when a car went out of control up onto the sidewalk and hit and ran over an old man. His leg was pinned under the tire. Without thinking, my father put his hands under the passenger side of the car, screamed and lifted the side of the car up. She pulled the old man out from under the car.” “Holy shit,” exclaims Mike. “Yeah, that night they went to dinner together and had sex. He left the country never to be seen or heard from again. She suspects that he was likely married and ashamed. She never told me all this because she didn’t want me to go down that path.” “Oh man. I’m really sorry to hear that.” “Here’s the interesting part. My mom asked how he got so strong. He told her the usual stuff about lifting heavy weights, but he also told her he had a rare genetic mutation that not only allowed for good muscle growth but allowed for the muscle to contract extremely hard. His nervous system was also somehow enhanced. A year after I was born, she got me tested, and I have the same condition as my father.” “Wow! This is incredible. I wonder what your limits are,” said Mike. “I don’t know, but I’m going to push myself to get stronger than any human alive,” exclaims Oliver. “Hell yeah!” Mike jumps out of bed. “Since we’re going to hit bodybuilding first, let’s put on your last coat of tan,” says Mike. Over the next hour, Mike paints Oliver’s skin with the bodybuilding posing tan making his skin dark, which shows the cuts and rips in Oliver’s muscle much better, especially under bright lights. Mike gives him a pair of posing trunks to wear under his clothes. Mike and Oliver enter the ballroom where they have bodybuilding. The press conference just ended, and they’re getting some photos and videos of Rob Coulson, last year’s Arnold Amateur champion, who is competing at the pro bodybuilding competition. He’s considered to have some of the best arms in bodybuilding. He’s a top contender to win. Off to the side of the stage, Mike has Oliver strip off his clothes. Mike quickly puts a light coating of oil on Oliver’s body. While Rob is hitting some poses, Oliver jumps up onto the stage from the ground, which grabs everyone’s attention, since the stage is very high. A couple whistles from the small crowd still there with photographers. Rob laughs at Oliver jumping up on stage. He hits a front double biceps shot. Oliver stands next to him and hits a front double biceps shot. A few audible gasps from the crowd. Oliver’s arms appear to be bigger than Rob’s arms. Not only that, he’s so ripped that you can see every muscle fiber in his arms, chest and completely shredded quads. Rob’s girlfriend screams for him to do his money shot, his back double biceps. So, Rob and Oliver turn around. They both hit their back double biceps shot. “Oh my God,” says Rob’s girlfriend. Oliver has him beat on his best shot, with bigger, more peaked arms, larger and more ripped shoulders and a much wider back. Oliver’s hamstrings are also bigger. One of the photographers says, “Who’s this kid? He’s destroying Rob.” Mike steps up and says, “His name is Oliver. He’s 20 years old and just getting into bodybuilding.” The photographer screams, “20? Are you fucking kidding me?” Someone screams, “Hit a most muscular shot!” Rob and Oliver turn around and both hit a most muscular crab shot. Oliver is matching Rob’s size from a muscular standpoint, but he’s much more shredded. Oliver’s chest is completely ripped with monster shoulders and traps. The biceps veins are nearly exploding they’re so thick. Abs are like steel armor. Oliver’s quad sweep is also wider and denser than Rob’s. “This kid could have won the show,” exclaims one photographer. Rob gets angry and walks off the stage. Mike gives the photographers contact info for Oliver. Oliver jumps off the stage and puts on a pair of shorts over his posing trunks. They exit the ballroom and go to the main wing of the expo where they have all the other events and activities. About as soon as they enter the expo hall, a bunch of people come over wanting pictures with Oliver. He’s shirtless and wearing shorts that show off his massive quads and calves. They make their way to the Animal Cage where they are starting a bench press competition. Mike registered Oliver for the contest. There are 10 competitors, most are big and fat, but powerful men. Oliver weighs in at 245 lbs and is easily the leanest competitor. The biggest and strongest competitor, nicknamed Grizzly, is 6’5” tall and weighs in at 330 lbs. Grizzly says, “Boy. You a bodybuilder? Cause you gonna git hurt here. This ain’t no play time in the gym. This is big boy weight.” He laughs. Everyone submits on written cards what their first lift will be. The announcer gets on the microphone. The announcer says, “Okay folks. We’re getting started with 405 pounds on the bar, and we’ll finish with Grizzly with 675 pounds…wait…there must be a mistake here. Who is Oliver? Oliver raises his hand and says, “Me sir!” Someone in the crowd says, “Holy shit! He’s jacked as fuck!” Announcer asks, “You’re opening with 685 pounds? Is that a mistake? Because no one has ever opened with that much weight, and honestly son, you don’t look like you could do something like that.” Oliver responds, “Yes sir. 685 pounds is my opener. I want to make sure I get the lift, so I can go heavier.” Announcer asks, “So this is easy for you?” Oliver says, “Yes sir.” Grizzly yells, “I smell bullshit! No one can beat me in bench press, especially not some bodybuilder!” The competition starts, and Oliver warms up. They get to Grizzly, and he presses 675 lbs, with a huge effort. The staff loads 685 lbs onto the bar. Oliver lays down on the bench. The crowd quiets down to watch. Oliver grabs the bar. Announcer asks, “You want a liftoff young man?” Oliver says, “No sir. I got this.” Oliver lifts the bar off the rack. He slowly lowers the weight and touches his chest, holding the bar there.” Judge says, “Press!” Oliver pushes the bar back with incredible power. It flies up. Judge says, “Rack it!” Oliver puts the bar back. He gets a good lift signal. He jumps up and hits a most muscular shot. He’s sweating profusely. The crowd goes wild. Grizzly throws down his belt. Everyone submits their lifts. Oliver is doing 720 lbs. Grizzly finds out and puts 725 lbs for himself. Fifteen minutes later, 720 lbs is loaded onto the bar. Oliver sits on the end of the bench and flexes his pecs several times. His chest is shredded and sweaty. Mike comes over to give him a liftoff. Mike says, “You got this Olly. Let’s put this guy out of his misery.” Oliver screams, “Hell yeah!” He lays on the bench. He nods his head for Mike to give the liftoff. He lowers the bar and holds it on his chest. Judge says, “Press!” Oliver screams and presses the bar extremely hard. The bar goes up steadily and fairly quickly. Judge says, “Rack!” Oliver racks it and get a good lift signal. He jumps up and hits a double biceps shot. Someone from the crowd, “Jesus, this kid is an animal.” Grizzly is up. 725 lbs is loaded onto the bar. He sits down. He sniffs a bottle of smelling salts, throws it aside and screams. He lays down. His spotter gives him a liftoff. He lowers the bar and stops on his chest. Judge says, “Press!” Grizzy screams and pushes. The bar goes up very slowly. It gets stuck halfway up, but after a couple seconds, he screams and is able to slowly push through to a lockout. Judge says, “Rack!” Grizzy racks it. He sits up, and his nose is bleeding. He stands up and then stumbles. A couple staff help him to his chair. Everyone is submitting final lifts, except for Grizzy. He’s going to stick with his last lift of 725 lbs. Mike says, “That last lift went up really fast. I don’t know…you think you could do 750, or is that just too much?” Oliver thinks for a couple seconds and says, “Fuck it! Let’s do it!” After 15 minutes, it’s Oliver’s turn. 750 lbs is loaded onto the bar. Announcer says, “This kid has already broken records today. Now he’s going for 750 lbs, more than three times his bodyweight. He’s completely ripped up, and he’s only 20 years old!” The crowd cheers. Oliver sits on the bench, flexing his chest and arms. He lays back and screams. Mike comes over and grabs the bar. Oliver nods his head for the liftoff. Mike does it and steps back. Oliver takes a deep breath and lowers the bar. He touches and holds the bar on his chest. The judge waits an extra seconds before giving the signal. Judge says, “Press!” Oliver screams and starts pressing. His chest is pumped and shredded. His triceps are popping out and ripped. The bar slowly goes up. It slows down near the halfway mark. Oliver screams again using his chest power to press the bar high and higher, until he finally locks out. Judge says, “Rack!” Oliver racks the bar. The good lift signal is given. The crowd erupts in cheers. Grizzly walks out. Oliver hits a huge most muscular shot. Mike comes over and gives Oliver a hug. Mike says, “Bro! I’m blown away!” “Me too man! I can’t believe it! It’s like nothing can stop me!” Mike says, “Maybe nothing or no one can!” They exit the cage and go onto the next event. Mike says, “I think you’re going to like this next event. It will really test your strength like nothing has before.” Mike and Oliver enter the Bending Arena. Oliver’s eyes light up. There are all kinds of things to bend here, including nails, thick bolts, tools, including wrenches. They have steel bars to bend like on World’s Strongest Man from the 1980s and 1990s. A big sign says… “WHOEVER BENDS THE THICKEST BAR TODAY, WINS A FREE SET OF CAPTAINS OF CRUSH GRIPPERS!” Mike and Oliver go over to the steel bars. Jake is managing the challenge. “Wow, you must be a bodybuilder,” says Jake. Oliver says, “Well, I…” “He’s really a power bodybuilder,” says Mike. Oliver smiles. Jake says, “Well, you’re in the right spot if you want to test you strength.” Oliver asks, “What are the Captains of Crush Grippers?” Jake breaks out all the grippers ranging from Captains of Crush (CoC) 1 all the way to a 4. Jake says, “They range in strength from level 1 to level 4. Only 5 people in the world have ever closed a number 4.” Oliver says, “I have to try that!” Jake says, “Okay big boy, let’s start you off with a number 2. Most bodybuilders can barely do that.” Oliver takes the number 2 and puts it in his hand. He closes it, and his forearms pump up. He closes it for reps. After he hits 20 reps, Jake stops him. Oliver says, “I’ll take the number 4 now.” “I don’t think you should jump up to it right away, but here you go.” A crowd starts to form to watch Oliver. Jake records video using his phone. Oliver places the number 4 gripper in his hand. He takes a couple deep breaths, screams and squeezes as hard as he can. He closes it. Jake screams, “Holy shit!” Oliver lets it open and closes it again. And again. Veins are snaking in his forearm pumping it close to 19 inches thick. And then he holds the gripper closed for 20 seconds. Jake screams, “Yeah! What a pump!” Mike says, “Bro, your forearm is massive!” Oliver flexes his forearm for the camera. Oliver says, “Let me bend some bars.” Jake says, “Normally I’d start someone with a 1/2” thick steel bar to try, but you’re much stronger than the guys that usually come over here. Here’s a 5/8” thick steel bar that’s 4 feet long.” Oliver grabs the bar and holds it at either end. Jake continues, “So before you try anything, let me tell you how to properly bend…Wait!” Oliver starts pushing on the bar, trying to bend it. Jake says, “Hold on man! You can’t bend it in front of your body like that. It’s impossible!” A guy from the crowd says, “Have you ever seen anyone so ripped?” Oliver screams. His chest and abdominals are shredded. His biceps are popping. Another scream and slowly the bar starts to bend. Jake says, “No way!” Oliver continues pouring his strength into bending the bar in front of his body. After a few seconds, the ends of the bar touch. Oliver drops the bar and hits a double biceps shot, screaming, “Yeah!” Jake says, “Holy shit! I did not expect that.” Mike asks, “What’s your thickest bar?” Jake responds, “Well, it’s called the Ultimate, and it’s not really meant to be bent.” Mike asks, “What do you mean?” Jake says, “Well, it’s 1 and 1/4 inch thick cold-rolled steel at 5 feet in long. It’s believed that no one can really bend it. That’s why there is a cash prize for anyone that can bend it just with their upper body and make the ends touch, wins $100,000. That’s just impossible.” Oliver’s eyes get big and says, “I gotta fuckin’ try it!” Jake says, “You can try it, but no one has even come close to making the tiniest of bends in the bar. It’s still perfectly straight.” Mike asks, “How quickly would Oliver get the money if he does it?” “It’s an instant bank transfer,” says Jake. Jake gives Oliver the bar and a thick bath towel. Jake says, “This time you won’t be able to bend it in front of your body.” “So, what do I do?” Jake responds, “Fold the towel and put it on your head for protection. Put the bar on top, using your head as a leverage point. Bend the bar down as far as you can, then put it behind your neck and bend it until the ends touch.” Oliver folds the towel and puts it on his head. The crowd is getting really big now. Oliver places the bar on top and grabs the ends of the bar with his hands. Mike screams, “You can do this Olly! No one has ever bent a bar this thick! You’re gonna do it in front of all these people, not as some fat strongman, but as a ripped-up power bodybuilder. No one has ever seen anything like this before! You can do it!” Oliver takes a couple deep breaths and screams. He pulls down hard, but the bar doesn’t budge. He takes a break. Jake says, “I told you bro. You can’t do it. No one can.” Oliver goes nuts and screams and pulls with everything he has. His biceps explode into huge ripped peaks. His lats flare out wider than ever. His abdominals contract as hard as they ever have before. At first, nothing happens, but after a few seconds, a squeal comes from the bar. The bar starts to slowly bend under Oliver’s strength. His lats are contracting so hard, you can see every muscle fiber. Oliver screams again pouring all of his strength into the task of bending the thickest steel ever bent by a human. The crowd starts talking… “Oh my God!” “He’s doing it!” “He’s fuckin’ ripped up!” “That’s just raw strength!” Jake is in complete awe of Oliver’s ripped strength. Jake says, “He’s bending the unbendable!” Oliver bends the bar halfway and stops for a second. He screams again and continues bending the bar until it’s about a 90-degree angle and can’t bend further on his head. He’s sweating profusely. He drops the bar behind his neck. Using his chest, he tries to crush the bar in, but it’s still a bit too wide for that. Oliver tilts the bar behind his neck, so that the end in his left hand is now down by his hip. The end of the bar in his right hand is above his head. Bracing the left end against his body, Oliver screams and pulls down on the bar with his right hand. Someone from the crowd says, “Jesus Christ! Look at the kid’s arm!” Oliver’s 22-inch right biceps explodes into ripped glory pulling the bar down, dripping sweat. His abs contracting hard to stabilize his core. Oliver screams again! The impossible to bend cold-rolled steel tries to resist, but Oliver’s biceps is just too strong, bending it more and more. “Yeah,” screams Oliver as he dominates the bar. Now the bar is at a 45-degree angle. Oliver centers the bar behind his neck, with his arms on both ends of the bar. Oliver screams and pushes the ends of the bar towards each other. His chest and abs are ripped to the bone. His chest is heaving and pumping blood as massive amounts of strength pass through to his hands. Oliver screaming and pushing slowly presses the ends of the bar towards each other. After several seconds, the ends touch. Jake, in utter disbelief, faints for a moment. Oliver lifts the bar from his neck and throws it to the ground. He hits a huge most muscular shot as the crowd cheers and then a huge front double biceps shot. Mike then hugs him, and Oliver hugs him back. People in the crowd come up to congratulate him and get pictures. Finally, Oliver gets a bank transfer from Jake’s company. Mike says, “It looks like we just have one more stop.” Oliver responds, “Arm wrestling!” Mike nods his head. Oliver adds, “You think Brock’s Dad, Titus, will accept my challenge?” “Well, he is the Super Heavyweight World Champion, so he may not take you too seriously. You’re only 20 years old, and arm wrestlers always think they can destroy bodybuilders. But, you do have some money that you can put up to sweeten the pot.” Oliver says, “Yes!” On the way to the arm wrestling competition, they stop to get some burgers and refuel. Oliver eats six double cheeseburgers and six orders of fries. They finally arrive at the arm wrestling contest. It doesn’t start for another 15 minutes. Mike speaks with the promoters to try to get Titus to take on Oliver. At first the promoters said no because Oliver hasn’t competed and earned a spot to challenge Titus. When Mike offered Titus $20,000 to take the match, he accepted. Announcer says, “It’s time to get started! Up first is a best of three supermatch between your current super heavyweight world champion, 6’3” tall, 350 pounds of solid mass, with 23-inch arms and 20-inch forearms…Titus!” Cheers from the crowd as Titus walks out. The announcer continues, “His challenger is a complete unknown but considers himself a power bodybuilder, 6’ tall weighing 245 pounds of completely ripped muscle, 22-inch arms and only 20 years old…Oliver! The usual audible gasps form the audience. Brock looks up in shock. Brock says, “No way! Oliver is challenging my Dad? Jesus, he really packed on some size.” Titus and Oliver both come to the table. Oliver asks for his arms to be measured since it’s been a couple months, and he still has a pump from the bar bending. The referee measures Oliver’s arm. The referee says, “It looks to be…22 and 3/4…wait…23 inches…matching Titus!” “Looks so much bigger than Titus,” says one guy from the crowd. His friend responds, “Yeah, cause he’s got a huge peak and the muscle is completely ripped up.” Oliver smiles. The referee measures his forearm. “The bodybuilder’s forearm is 19.5”, just under Titus!” Oliver smiles and nods his head. Titus says, “You think cause you have a little muscle you can challenge me? Kid, I have over 20 years of experience in arm wrestling. I know every technique and trick in the book, and I haven’t lost a match in over three years! No way you can beat this arm!” With that, Titus flexes his right arm to cheers in the crowd. Oliver responds, “I’m tired of your son bullying kids, so I’m going to teach you a lesson. I don’t need any arm wrestling techniques or tricks. I’m gonna beat you with raw strength!” Oliver hits a double biceps shot, totally ripped with a light coat of sweat for shine. The crowd starts talking… “That kid’s arms are bigger than Titus’!” “Have you ever seen someone so shredded?” Titus gets mad and slams his elbow on the pad. Oliver grips up and squeezes Titus’ hand. Titus tries to pull out, but Oliver’s grip is too strong. Finally, Oliver lets Titus slip out and re-grip. The referee starts the match. “Ready, Go!” Titus hits hard, but Oliver holds him. Titus hits harder and pulls Oliver’s arm down just a bit off center. The crowd doesn’t know how to react. “That kid is holding back Titus!” Titus screams and goes all out trying to pull down Oliver. Oliver does go down a little until Oliver screams and starts pulling with everything he has. He stops Titus and starts to pull Titus back up. Oliver’s arm is incredibly shredded showing every muscle fiber working. His chest is ripped and sweat is pouring off his body. “Yeah,” Oliver screams. Oliver gets their arms back to the center starting position. Brock screams, “Arm Lock! Dad, use your Arm Lock!” Titus shifts his weight and his arm position, essentially locking his arm into place, making it very difficult, if not impossible to move. Oliver is confused. He’s not sure how Titus is blocking him from pulling his arm down. “Yes, just hold him there, Dad! He’ll burn out soon,” screams Brock. Another grunt from Oliver, but he can’t move Titus. Titus smiles. “No one has ever broken through my Arm Lock, kid. Not even the strongest arm wrestlers,” says Titus. “I’m a power bodybuilder, and this ripped muscle is gonna bust through your Arm Lock.” Titus laughs. Oliver screams and pulls harder. His biceps seeming to pump larger, and his forearms expand with corded muscle trying to push through his paper-thin skin. Titus’ smile goes away. “This kid has some serious muscle,” says someone from the crowd. “Yeah, his biceps are really peaked, but I don’t know if he has the strength to pull through Titus’ Arm Lock. It’s impossible,” says his friend. Oliver hears this talk from the crowd. It gets him very excited. Oliver screams again and pulls with everything he has. His chest is shredded and pouring on the strength that can bench press well over 700 lbs. His biceps and forearms that curl nearly 300 lbs are increasing the pressure that no one else can create. “You can do it,” screams Mike. “This kid…I’ve never seen so much ripped muscle,” exclaims someone from the crowd. Oliver very slightly moves Titus’ arm. Titus’ eyes are wide, and his head is shaking with the effort to contain Oliver. “Fuck yeah,” screams Oliver. “Impossible,” says Brock. Oliver looks over at Brock. Brock is in shock. The crowd starts talking… “The kid bodybuilder…he’s doin’ it!” “That’s pure, raw strength!” Titus screams, trying to stop Oliver, and he does for a second, but the kid bodybuilder’s strength is building. His ripped muscle contracting harder. Oliver starts pushing through the Arm Lock with every muscle group engaged including his back with crazy striations, his biceps with impossible peaks and his chest just ripped to the bone with massive forearms at the lead. As Oliver is pulling Titus’ arm down, closer and closer to the pin pad, Titus does a King’s Move, dropping his body below the table and stretching out the arm to make it impossible to pin due to the angle of the arm. Brock screams, “Good move, Dad! Hold him there and burn him out!” Oliver continues pulling Titus’ arm, but it’s completely stuck. It’s even harder than his Arm Lock. After 10 seconds of pulling, Oliver isn’t making progress. Mike screams, “Olly, do a shoulder press! Stand up tall and use your shoulder and bodyweight to press his arm down!” Oliver stands up tall and starts pushing with just his triceps. He doesn’t lean over and use his shoulder and bodyweight. Titus is smiling. He’s in a good position. The King’s Move doesn’t use much energy. It’s all about leverage, angles and the arm’s natural straight arm end range. “No one can push through my King’s Move, kid! It’s ten times harder than my Arm Lock!” Oliver grunts loud and pushes hard. Titus’ arm is like hardened steel. It’s just not moving. “You can’t do it, Olly!,” screams Brock. Oliver screams and starts pushing with everything he has! His triceps shows every cross-striation. His shoulders are shredded. His biceps vein looks massive and mean. His chest is heaving with ripped abs and sweat pouring off him. Titus’ smile turns to gritting teeth. “If this kid’s ripped muscle pushes through Titus’ King’s Move, it will send me over the edge,” whispers a guy to his friend right near the table. This excites Oliver even more, somehow allowing him to push even harder. His ripped triceps start to very slowly move Titus’ arm towards the pin pad. Oliver looks down at the guy watching and sees his eyes getting bigger and the guy says, “Oh my God! He’s doing it!” The guy starts shaking. Oliver screams again, pushing more! His triceps is exploding. The crowd starts speaking again… “This kid’s strength is insane! He’s doing it with just his triceps!” “This kid bodybuilder is beating the strongest arm wrestler at his own sport!” “No! You can’t!” mutters Titus. A cracking sound starts to come from Titus’ arm. “Stop! You’re going to break his arm,” screams Brock. Oliver backs off. “Want to give up, so I can spare your arm,” Oliver asks. “I’ll never give up!” “Good, cause I wanna see how strong these triceps are,” yells Oliver. Oliver looks directly at Brock. He screams and pushes again. His ripped triceps is monstrously huge. Titus’ arm moves slightly. It’s getting stuck as the bones near the elbow start touching. Titus’ arm is nearly at the pin pad, but now it’s completely stuck. “You think he could break his arm,” someone asks from the crowd. “No man. I don’t think it’s possible,” replies another. Oliver gets excited and goes nuts! He screams, and his triceps responds somehow pushing harder. “Yeah, I’m gonna do it,” screams Oliver. Titus starts to scream. His arm starts to slightly bend under the strength of Oliver’s triceps. Oliver looks at Brock. Brock has his hands on his head in disbelief. Oliver screams again pushing as hard as he can with just his triceps strength. About three seconds later, a grinding sound and then…SNAP! Oliver breaks Titus’ arm. Titus’ hand hits the pin pad. He pulls his arm away grabbing it for support. Oliver slams his fist down onto the pad, crushing the pad and bending one of the thick steel supports holding the table up. He then hits a double biceps shot at Titus. Incredibly ripped biceps explode to over 24 inches with high peaks. Lats flare out like wings. Abs shredded. Sweat pouring off his body giving it a beautiful shine. Cheers and shock coming from the crowd. Mike gives Oliver a hug. “I knew you could do it, Olly,” says Mike. “I couldn’t have done all this without you, Big Mike,” responds Oliver. “Maybe you should call me, Little Mike, from now on.” They laugh. Brock runs over to his Dad and takes him away for medical attention. Someone from the crowd says, “Bro, you broke the table.” Oliver looks at it. There are four steel support bars that run from the base on the floor to the tabletop. One of them is bent inwards. Oliver bends down and grabs the bent support bar at the middle of the bend with his left hand. His other hand is on the tabletop for support. Oliver grunts and starts pulling. His biceps and forearm explode as does his lat. Very slowly, Oliver starts bending the support bar straight. “No way! This kid is bending fucking steel,” says one guy from the crowd. “Jesus, his arm strength is off the scale!” Oliver completely straightens the support bar. He then hits another double biceps shot at the crowd. The crowd cheers. The crowd comes over to Oliver for pictures and autographs. Oliver looks at Mike. “Let’s keep doing this shit! I want to see how strong I can get!” Mike responds, “Hell yeah kid!” THE END

Contain themes of sex between same gender, dubious consent, physical and mental manipulation. Feedback is appreciated! Implied drugging and / or using substance to control someone to get bigger. Quarantine Routine Chapter 1: Evening Routine I'm tired of goddamn chewing, I thought as I jam another extraordinarily large piece of chicken breast into my mouth. My jaw screamed at me and my stomach wanted to spew everything back out. I'm so goddamn tired of this. "I'm full. I think I'm done." My eyes were fixed at the smaller man across the table eating his significantly smaller portion of our dinner. "I said I'm done." I open my mouth and let out a deep, roaring belch. It got nothing, not even a flinch. His silverware continued to scratch up the glaze on our plates as he slowly cut up the meat. I'm so tired of this. I think I'm going to vomit from all the food. "I said I'm done," I said again letting my hefty forearms fall and my fork and knife tumble in front of me. The table shook and for a brief moment, he seemed to pay attention. He lifted his hands, glanced at my plate which was triple the size of his, and went back to eating as if nothing happened. I wanted to push the table into his chest and have the floor enjoy the rest of our dinner. I lifted my hand just to do that but then-- "You don't have much left. Just finish it so we're not wasting food," he said without even raising his head away from his plate. I growled a bit. "I'm done eating. No more." He sighed and raised his head to look at me for the first time since we sat down. "If you don't finish it, you'll have to make your own food starting tomorrow." My eyebrows furrowed. "That's fine. I can cook for myself." "Really?" Sarcasm was basically drooling out of his mouth when said that. "Yea. I'll make my own food like before." "And what did you eat before? Boiled chicken and broccoli? Canned tuna? Sardines? Boiled beans?" "Clean foo-" "Oh they were healthy. Just bland because you couldn't be bothered to learn how to cook." He went back to his plate and with a smaller, gentler voice, said, "And now you have someone making you good, whole foods that actually taste great and you don't seem to appreciate that." My heart sank into my stomach. Now, I actually feel like vomiting. "Look, it's just you portion out way too much for me," I said as I pick up the spoon and fork and began jamming food into my mouth again. "You're making a whole pot and you eat one scoop while I eat the rest." "Well, remember last year when you bragged about eating a lot to keep your weight and muscles on? You said a tall guy like you need to eat a lot to keep mass and you wanted to be bigger." I don't think I ever wanted or said that: wanting to be bigger. 270 lbs on a 6'3 frame was big. I thought I could start cutting just before the quarantine started. I've gained 60lbs since in a few months and a little bit more than half of that was muscle gains. My normal clothes don't fit me anymore. I've had to switch to wearing short gym shorts so my thighs and calves aren't being squeezed and sleeveless shirts that barely fit my chest and gut so I won't rip the sleeves when I moved my arms. I told him I wanted to buy new clothes but I could've ordered him online. But he made a good point. I'm working from home and everything was closed, why not just wear casual and gym clothes around the house until I get to my final weight. I think he said what the was but I'm pulling a blank. "We have to clean you up soon so hurry up and finish your plate." Suddenly, I heard the sharp ticking of the clock in the living room. It's nearly 8 PM and I have to take a shower to get the sweat stink off of me before he gets me ready for bed. "Yea, hold on," I muttered under my breath. He was cleaning up the dishes and I just sat in the dining room staring at the wall with my mouth slightly open. I'm so fucking full right now I don't even want to move. But it's shower time soon so I better head over there so he does so I'd be ready. "No, no stay there." The chair creaked as my full weight came back down. He came out of the kitchen shaking his head. My vision is hazy and my brain's dull. Too much food, I thought. I want to go to sleep. I could feel him standing behind me now. He reached for the hem of my tank top and began pulling it upwards. "Ok, slowly raise your hand so I can pull it off." Right. I forgot. I've been focusing on my shoulders and arms for the last few weeks and they've gotten so big I started having problems raising my arms to take off my own shirt. Everything felt tight and I had to sort of raise one hand more and let him take off that side before the next one. And I'm so tired and my arms were so heavy that when he was done with one, I just let it slam on my thigh. "Take off your shorts and boxer briefs and hand them to me." Right. I can still take those off on my own. I stood up and towered over him. I tried to smile. I'm so lucky to have a guy like him taking care of me while I grow big and strong even though I can't do some things on my own anymore. He doesn't really smile like he used to. Sometimes I feel like I just irritate him but I know he was supportive of me get bigger as I've always wanted to. I'm lucky to have someone so patient like that. I loosen the shorts and pull them down a bit together with my underwear. The smell of musk wafted all the way up to my nose as I shimmy my legs to try to get them off. My thighs were massive and my ass blew up ever since he started giving me more of the kind of food he makes. "Sorry," I said as I to lean on his shoulder to slid my shorts and underwear off my ankles and feet. My balance has taken a hit as I grew larger. He rubbed my hands. It felt romantic, like the old times, before the quarantine. I'm glad he still likes me while I'm getting bigger as I've always dreamed off. "Let's get to the shower." My new frame filled the bathtub. Our apartment has a small bathroom and it feels like I'm a giant who can barely fit in it. I can still shower on my own so he just normally watches there and helps me with washing my back. And of course, help me with my favorite part of our evening routine. "Ready?" He said and I was so fucking excited I couldn't even come up with words to reply. I got into the best position for him: lean against the shower wall with my arms straight and biceps flexing, spread my legs, bend my knees a little bit, push my ass out to open them up while arching my back a little bit. I'm so excited. He always does this for me if I do my full routine every day and especially I eat all the food I need to get bigger. Two weeks ago, I didn't and I had to go to bed without him doing this for a few days. My balls were so blue and heavy and I had to call in sick at work because I couldn't think straight. He had to put my hands in mitts and lock them to some belt wrapped around my chest so I wouldn't get tempted. Another time, he shaved me head to toe so I'd be prickly and uncomfortable for a week. I didn't like that. That's why I try to finish my food now. It has stuff in it to help me grow bigger as I've always wanted to. I closed my eyes as his soft hands wrapped around my dick and while slowly stroking it. I used to moan but now I grunt. Fuck, it feels good. And then, there it is! He sticks his other hand's finger into my ass and immediately started rubbing my prostate. Oh fuck. I started to shake and my knees bent further to push my ass into his finger. "Don't buck," he said. "Right, sorry." I have to listen to him otherwise he'd stop - feeding me, loving me, and making me feel good. I also need to get bigger or he won't do this anymore too. I'd be so hungry without him and no one will do this for me anymore. The stroking was always gentle and he varied the way he did it to keep me feeling as good as possible the whole time. He also does this thing where when he reaches the base of my cock, he would slide his hands down to my giant balls and before going up the other away again. And he did just that! It's almost like he can read my mind. "Mm- oh!" Everything stopped. I blinked my eyes open and looked down at him. Oh right. No moaning. I grunt. He moans. I grunt. So I did and he started rubbing my prostate and stroking me again. I got closer and closer and I grunted louder and louder. My upper body slam against the shower wall as my legs buckle, barely keeping me upright. My balls tightened and my dick spurted out streams of cum. And his hand squeezed it out as long as more trickled down to the bathroom floor. His finger inside my ass gently pressured my prostate more and more. He left me in the bathroom for a minute. He came back with a wet towel. "Stand up straight and face me," he said. And I did with a grin from ear to ear. He cleaned my dick and told me to put my sleeping clothes on. At my size now, it's another tight tank top and shorts. As he walked away to get ready to shower on his own, he asked, as he always did before bedtime, "What do you want to do tomorrow?" I waddled out of the bathroom. I barely fit through the door. "Train more, workout more, get bigger." "And?" he asked as he turned around by the bathroom door. "Eat more to get bigger." He smiled like he used to. "That's my big bull."

Long time lurker. First time posting a short story of my own. Enjoy ____________________________________ "Damn it..." Ian was working out on a treadmill in his city's gym. A disappointed expression in his eyes. He was a scrawny, 5'6 feet tall guy, weighing around 120 lbs. He didn't wanted to be so short and without any visible muscle. He wanted to be huge, BIGGER than huge. A masculine beast that everyone will notice and worship. Sadly, no matter how much he tried, his body refused to build any muscle, and over the years he has just gotten even scrawnier and punier. "Fuck man, I wish I could grow bigger..." Getting off the treadmill, he decides to walk outside for a breath of fresh air. Walking to the door, he notices every man in the gym being either highly concentrated in their training, or flexing for themselves in the mirror. Which makes him both aroused and jealous. But while standing outside and stretching a bit, something falls on top of him, covering him from head to toe. "W-what the hell?" He looks to the sky, but it was completely clear. And whatever fell on him felt sticky and gooey. It reminded him of something, but he couldn't quite remember what. Going inside the gym again, he was gonna go straight to the showers to rinse this strange thing off, but the time he came back, his body had completely absorbed it. He couldn't do nothing but stare at where the thing was, but not wanting to overthink, he simply went back to the treadmill. That's when it began. After a few minutes, he began filling a warm and itchy feeling all over his body, forcing him to get off the treadmill again. "What is...h-huh?!" In front of him, his body starts growing. First his previously puny chest, expanding onwards, pushing the shirt to it's limits. Then his arms, ballooning into giant biceps, filling with pound after pound of muscle, the sound of his bones rearranging and his muscles growing being heard through the whole area. Eventually, his shirt completely rips, freeing his still growing pecs from their prison, their "sweat" falling unto the floor as gravity made its job. "My-my pecs...what the...god, this feels so..." a moan leaves his lips. The feeling of his muscles growing feeling just as if he was edging an orgasm. He had already started getting glances from the people in the gym, curious about what was going on. But that's when the transformation continued, his flat belly turning a rock hard six pack, then a 8 pack, followed by his legs, growing in size and muscle, becoming thick enough to rival tree trunks, making rips into his pants until they soon, fall. With longer legs also increases his height, turning slowly from 5,5 to 5,9, then 6,3, then 6,7. His ass became a bubble butt, inflating in size to a fast speed, sending the jockstrap into him. He also started gaining body hair, gaining a beard in the process, and his pecs and abs becoming hairy. Ian thought he was dreaming, and if he was, he didn't wanted it to end. Standing now there only with a jockstrap, he had gone from a twig to a muscular, powerful man. Everyone in the gym had stares only for him. Many of fear, many of curiosity, and even a few filled with lust. He flexes right there, the feeling of his own muscles pressing against each other intoxicating his mind even more. He wa also completely sweating, the smell of man going through the whole gym. Ian thought he was already perfect. But leaving out a painful moan, he realizes that his cock and balls also wanted to be set free. Faster than the rest of his body, his cock starts throbbing in his jockstrap, pushing it down, and eventually setting itself free, slamming against Ian's leg. It was throbbing, pulsating, veins covering it completely, and slowly reaching to the floor. His balls were also growing along with it, becoming sensitive to the touch. "T-this is so much...but..." And that's when he reaches the point of no return. As if his hand was glued to his cock, he starts stroking it, panting in ecstasy, as he falls to his knees and watches in real time as it starts growing, and with it, the rest of his body. His cock soon became thicker than his already bigger hand, and slowly approaching his mouth, before he decided to grab it with his two hands, jerking faster, moving his hips along with it. He was trapped on his own world of lust, the men of the gym taking off their already light clothes jerk off to the sight, overcome with lust. Closer to climaxing, and his head almost reaching the ceiling of the place as his growth intensified, barely being able to move to his biceps becoming too big... He cums. A roar releasing his seed into all the surroundings, his cock shooting volley after volley of thick sperm, shooting random bystanders, and even the very ceiling. The absolute pleasure of his orgasm made the final step of his growth began, and like a broken faucet, the strength of his cum intensified, his dick becoming bigger, thicker, volleys of cum covering the whole gym, men affected by it starting to suck it, becoming big in the same way. Ian's mind was slowly disappearing, being replaced by the desire to grow even bigger, fuck all day, and and cum again and again. The simple thought was enough to make his stream of cum even stronger, now lying on a pool of his own cum that his worshippers were sucking to grow. His muscles were growing to such a rate that his movement was starting to become limited, his balls churning his unlimited seed into his massive cock. Yet he didn't cared. He wanted to grow bigger. "More...Please...MORE..." This command changes something in Ian. And suddenly, he breaks through the gym, his gigantic cock growing into the sky, spewing his seed everywhere like a fountain, the streets becoming rivers of his own cum as he starts growing past buildings and skyscrapers. Worshippers came to him, transformed by his cum, and did their best to pleasure the giant god as he kept growing and growing. Eventually, he stopped getting taller at the height of a skyscraper, but his muscles kept growing still, his head threatening to be shallowed by his traps at any seconds. Yet even then...Ian wanted more. He got a taste of godhood, now he wanted it all. He wanted to turn this world into a neverending orgy. He wanted to show his true power. Growing bigger than the city, a mountain, and and now standing on top of the world...Ian came. And came, and came. The seas turned to white, societies were destroyed by his cum tsunami, people transformed into hyper men looking to grow and fuck 24/7. Ian stood at the top of the world. He was the god of this world now, and the world was nothing more than his playground. A neverending orgy of pure masculinity, sweat, and sex, as everyone swam through his cum, people climbing into his body to worship him. This is what Ian wanted. And yet a thought still remained in his broken mind. "More..." The planet rumbled, unprepared for his next ascension. ---------- END OF PART 1 Tell me your thoughts on this or if you liked it.

GEOFF and jim: Camp Avslapning Part 1 June 2010 I’d been looking forward to this trip for a while. A bunch of my friends – several from work and a few others – and I were heading to the mountains for a week. We had rented a hike-in-only camp comprising five sleeping cabins (each slept two to four adults), a mess hall, a washroom building divided into two – for men and women – with toilet stalls and gang style showers, and a bunch of outdoor facilities including a sauna (everyone and every place had one here), a wood burning cedar hot tub, and a cold dunk. The place was billed as a rustic retreat where you can get away from it all. The camp warned that there was no cell signal and so our mobile devices would not connect with our data plans. This sounded PERFECT for me. Typically I (and most of my co-workers) worked 60 hour weeks; we felt like we were always on call and expected to be on our email constantly. But, we had just finished a huge deal and several of us were getting away to celebrate. What better way than to be off the grid for 8 days? I got out of town late. A few things came up at work on Friday morning and I was driving out at 5 (I intended to leave at noon) – typical. Fortunately, it was the middle of June and the days were long (albeit cool given how far north we lived). I got to the trail head at 730p and while it didn’t ever get pitch black up here – it did get dark and I had a 7 kilometer hike ahead of me and knew that I had to hoof it. Although it was a bit cool (10 degrees or so) I only had a long sleeve shirt from REI on and some hiking pants – my jacket was in the outer pocket of my backpack. I parked my car, got out and headed to the back to get my pack on and get going. I caught my reflection in the car window and – I have to confess – I liked what I saw. At 45, I had a lean athletic build that filled out my shirt nicely. You could see the mounds of my pecs through my shirt, my muscular shoulders capped my 16.5” arms which filled out the sleeves, and my broad shoulders tapered down to a tight 29” waist. You couldn’t see my legs because of my pants, but my ass was perky (I turned around to catch a glimpse) from my hip thrusts, deadlifts, and squats. AT 5-10 and 175 pounds I was an athletic middle aged man with a silver beard. And I relished the opportunity to show off my physical dominance over other men – whether it was at my box (its what we called our functional fitness gym), the gym where I lifted weights, or wrestling around in my gay wrestling league. I put my backpack on, took one final quick look at myself in the reflection (damn I’m a hot alpha) and headed to the trail. At the trail head was a sign 7K to Camp Avslapning. Attached to the sign was a note: Hey Jim, sorry you had to get a late start. As an FYI – you’ll be bunking with Geoff. See you when you get here. “Huh,” I thought, “I haven’t seen Geoff in 5 years. It’ll be good to catch up.” And with that I headed off. It was a challenging trail – even for me. But that didn’t stop my mind from wondering a bit. I was thinking back to the last time Geoff and I had hung out. He was Jane’s (my co-worker) younger brother. I had just moved here and Jane was hosting a welcome party for me at her flat. Geoff was visiting her from the US. He was 20 years old and in the middle of his engineering degree. He had just come out and I could tell he had a crush on me. He was tall, 6’3”, handsome face with a sharp jaw line, curly blond hair, but skinny. Sopping weight he weighed - at most – 150lbs. We chatted most of the night – we both got a little bit tipsy – and agreed to meet up a couple days later. We had brunch and I told him I liked to wrestle (was part of a wrestling league in University). He said that he always found it interesting and I invited him back to my place to roll around. I’m ashamed to admit that I took quite a bit of pleasure in wiping the floor with him. I know I walked the line – almost pushed it too far – his exclamations of agony let me know that I was effectively using my muscular body to inflict a bit of pain… and I may have held some holds just a bit longer than I should have; but, it was all in good fun and he assured me that he enjoyed himself. His semi-hardon confirmed that for me, too. We hung out quite a bit that summer, five years ago. We wrestled a lot – I dominated him, we had lunch and dinners together on the weekend, hiked in the mountains just outside of town, and went rock climbing quite a bit. I could see in his blue eyes that he was smitten for me. He’d ask me to flex my arms for him, for permission to rub his hands on my washboard abs, and would even request a pec bounce or two. I told him the price of admission was that he had to allow me to squeeze out a few wrestling submissions from his lips… he always agreed and I always took it right up to the line. I even taught him some safe words to let me know if I was approaching his limit or had crossed over (I only crossed over a couple of times). But, he was 20 years younger and was just a rail. I like my subs to have some meat on them – some ability to fight back. A sub that is tough to control is just more fun. I wonder how Geoff’s been. I may even wipe the cabin floor with him again. I smirked and headed off at a fast pace. Two and a half hours later I was hiking into camp. It was dusk and cool – maybe 5 degrees. In spite of this, I was sweaty and felt exhilarated. At the entrance to cap was a map with a note attached to it. Hey Jim, you’ll be with Geoff in Cabin 2. Figured with your love of fitness and activity, you’d appreciate the hike to it. Geoff is game, too. I looked at the map – Cabin 2 was way up the hill, isolated and out of the way. It was the furthest from any of the camp’s amenities. Probably a 10 minute walk from the nearest cabin and 15 from the showers. I walked into camp. It looked like everyone had headed to bed already. I was kinda surprised – I expected folks to be in the sauna or the hot tub. And I began my hike up to the Cabin. Cabin 2 was the only one with the light on. A few minutes later I was opening the door. I looked around – yup this is rustic. A concrete floor with a throw rug in the middle. And a single bunk bed. On the bottom bunk was what looked to be a bigger version of Geoff. He was spread out over the bed – it barely contained him – wearing a baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants. He was reading a book. I saw him and thought “oh man the boy got fat, too bad.” On the top bunk he had spread out all of his stuff. Geoff looked up from his book a great big smile on his face. He saw me looking at the top bunk – with his stuff strewn all over it – and his smile took on a slightly different look. “JIM! Hey! It is so good to see you!” Geoff didn’t get up. “Geoff, wow man. Good to see you too! You’ve…… changed.” “Yeah, I’ve put on a bit of weight. Once I turned 21, I found it hard to keep the weight off… but what can you do?” “Yeah, well….. hey, there’s only one bunk bed in here. I thought all the cabins had two.” “Yeah” Geoff said, “we decided to move the other bunk that was in here down to Cabin 1 for Jane. She brought some friends with her and they all wanted to bunk together. I said you’d be game.” “Yeah sure.” I said, “Well, why don’t you help me move your stuff off the top bunk and we can catch up.” “I’ve got a better idea, Jim. Let’s wrestle for the top bunk. Whoever gets five submissions first can claim the top bunk.” “Well, I just hiked 7 K with a 20kilo pack on… but sure… it will probably be a bit more of a fair match that way.” Geoff just smiled. He stood up and removed his sweatshirt. My jaw dropped. What I had assumed to be a fat flabby body beneath that sweatshirt was the muscular body of a powerlifter. Only, Geoff had hardly any fat on him. I took in the sight – he was a gorilla. He had a thick powerful waist – probably 34” or so, but I could easily see his abs on his stomach as he breathed in and out. His pecs were massive – so much so that his nipples pointed down to the cold concrete floor. While I was taking in their sheer size, the left pec twitched – seemingly unbeknownst to Geoff. As it did so, ripples emerged just under his tight skin. He had veins running up and down his arms and shoulders and a couple across his pecs. His traps were like mounds sitting on either side of his massive neck. He bent over to remove his sweat pants. I got quick flash of his massive and muscular back. It was thick with mounds of muscle – powerful. When his sweat pants were removed, he revealed massive legs that were proportionate to the rest of his powerful body; he was wearing briefs that barely contained his glutes. His thighs were at least 30” of muscle, his calves bulged and dwarfed my upper arms. And, as with his upper body, hardly any fat was visible. It was all granite muscle. And across his entire body was a thick mound of body hair – almost fur. Geoffrey was a beast. This is going to be fun, I thought to myself. I loved to dominate muscle subs. And what stood before me was the epitome of muscle subs. Geoff saw that I was taking in his body with a greedy delight. He smiled. “You like what you see, now?” As he spoke he reached up and ran his right hand through his hair, his right bicep bulged as he did so (he wasn’t flexing). “Yeah Geoff, you’ve been working out!” “I have. I’m up to 260 pounds now. My arms were 22” when I measured them a couple months ago. But with my supplements they may be 22.5” by now.” He flexed his right bicep as he said this and it erupted in a mountain of muscle. He lowered his arm and bounced his pecs. He bounced them in sync and then one at a time. They were so hefty I could almost hear them as they lifted and dropped with each flex. And, striations beneath his chest hair appeared and disappeared with each contraction. He smiled. “Now, Jim, before we begin, remind me what were the safe words again?” I smiled, this is going to be fun – I LOVE pushing muscle subs to the limit and sometimes guiding them to just beyond. And from the stable of subs I’ve collected, they love it too. “Yellow when you’re at the limit but don’t want the scene to end. Red when the lines’ been crossed and we need stop.” “Ahh yes. That’s right. I’d forgotten how dull your safety words were. With my subs, I have a different set of words. Water for when you need a break but don’t want the scene to end and rock if I’ve taken you over the limit and you need the scene to end, immediately. I guess I should tell you, Jim - in the last five years, in addition to putting on mass, I’ve been training in martial arts. I just received my brown belt in Jujitsu fastest progression ever seen at my school. I’ve been looking forward to this for the past 5 years.” “Fuck” I thought. I had been in a wrestling league for years but never had any formal training. It was all erotic fun for me. The only times that I ever lost were to someone with formal training and the most humiliating losses were handed to me by blue and purple belts in jujitsu. Now, standing in front of me was massive bodybuilder/power lifter, someone with grappling training, and someone who had just announced that he was an alpha with a stable of subs of his own. What was even more frightening in that moment was all the recollections that came flooding back to me – times when I had used my athletic prowess to dominate a young skinny sub – and push him beyond his submission point – forced him to beg me to end a scene through cries of pain. I looked at him, his massive chest rising and falling with each breath, his powerful core showcasing a set of washboard abs, his quads, arms, and neck. I could see the strength in every fiber of his body and wondered if his claim of grappling training was true. If it was, I was about to have my ass handed to me. And given that we were in the cabin furthest from the rest of camp, no one was likely to hear my screams. His mouth was partially open - a look of hunger, like a snake about to eat its prey. He slowly licked his lips. Geoffrey raised his arms in a double bicep pose. Mountains of granite on both arms. And then into a most muscular pose. His face turned from a devilish grin into an aggressive show of dominance. “Ready for some pain old man?” I took in this muscular alpha with a look of aggressive, killer lust in his eyes. I noted that his briefs had filled and it looked like his cock was hard. A wet spot was forming on the front. Geoffrey was getting turned on by his show of dominance and we had not even begun. Fuck what was about to happen to me?

A beautiful morning was the right description of Baton Rouge on that day. The sun was shining, it was not either hot or cold, the perfect mild day to go foe a walk and wonder about. Caleb knew his match was just few days away and it would have been absolute fun for him, like the rest of them were. He walked through the town, impossible to miss. A huge bodybuilder and that black t-shirt, with the loose sleeves, showed all his beauty and power. Piercing blue eye, a neat beard, a touch of hair loss that divinely framed his entire face, and with a constant smile drawn on it. His several tattoos in his arms made him look scarier compared to any other bodybuilder whereas he was a peaceful person. Until provoked. Until pissed off. Time to take a bite, Caleb thought. He stopped by a cafeteria to eat something, relax, and plan what he will be doing during the day. His thoughts were now focusing on training. Training for his future competitions. Training to destroy his Easter European victim. He entered. Some people looked at him, others ignored him. He smiled. Being a bodybuilder means carrying the sport itself everyday on your person. It is not like being a cyclist that you can hang the bike to the hook. The waitress couldn’t ignore Caleb’s body and scanned him from top to bottom. Baton Rouge was a mix of culture and backgrounds, and diversity was on everyday people’s life although, those bodybuilders were not so often spotted around the time, and when someone sees one, wasting some minutes of the precious working time, it is an investment, for the eyes, for our inner fantasies. The waitress recomposed herself, handed a menù over and and shown that table to the guest. Customer. Caleb set far from the entrance. A bunch of guys guys, probably on their 40s got in. They were wearing suits. They were probably lawyers. They were probably out for lunch. They were noisy and loud. Most of the people turned as they entered the cafeteria. To be in a quiet cafeteria, those guys made it sound like a disco or a club. Maybe a pub. Their voices were simply annoying. They were probably celebrating some sort of victory in a case. Caleb placed his mobile on the table. His order arrived. Gumbo. What’s best to eat if not one the jewel dish of Louisiana? Caleb began eating completely submerged in his thoughts. Crush him, crush him, crush him. He thought. It’s been a long time since his last pay-to-fight session. Last one went very well on Caleb’s side, not so well for the dueller. His victim ended up at the hospital. Few broken ribs, and a dislocated jaw. Another bodybuilder. Unable to compete for quite sometime. He asked for it. He gave it to him. Time passed. Caleb was still eating with his thoughts running like a train. He got distracted. A scene that should’ve never taken place. At the table of the lawyers's, the waitress run away. In tears. The most annoying of the pack put his hands over the waitress’s vagina, and laughed with this friends. No one reacted, no one did absolutely anything. Shame on everyone. “That guy needs a lesson!” Caleb whispered to himself, moved his lips annoyed, and shook his head. He stood up. He was a mountain. He walked towards the guy. “I think you owe her an apology!” Caleb said, towering at the table, with his beautiful Cajun accent. “Calm down hormone man!” The guy said. “You owe her an apology!” Caleb said again, leaning towards the guy. “Mind you own fucking business, asshole!” The guy said annoyed. “Fine!” Caleb said. Caleb’s hand found the right path to land and grab the guy by the crotch, and lifted him up. With rage. The guy quickly stood up. He went straight to his toe. He moaned and screamed. He was terrified. His voice squeaked. He tried to free himself up placing his hands over Caleb’s wrist. Wrong move. The Cajun slapped the guy’s face twice. His head quarter-turned twice, and his perfect hair waved like during a shampoo commercial. The lawyer’s eyes were in tears. Caleb got the attention he deserved. “What does it feel like to receive the same treatment?” Caleb said. The guy tried to talk. Caleb stopped him suddenly, pulling him towards his body, almost as if he was trying to remove the lawyer’s testicle from the body. Caleb walked for the whole restaurant, with the guy grabbed by the crotch. Pulling him like he was handling a rope and dragging something around a street. “You are like my little horse. Let me bring you for a walk!” Caleb said. Sarcastically. He grinned. Evilly. The restaurant went silent. Someone took their phones to record what was going on. This type of videos can destroy a person’s life but, as long as there is a strong fundament story, they can illuminate the audience on how badly our human behaviour is evolving to the wrong direction. Caleb stopped right in the centre of the restaurant. “This is what happens when you don’t have respect for people. No matter what sexual orientation, gender they are!” Caleb said, looking at the guy’s friend. They were terrified. Caleb pulled his victim, again, towards his body. He whispered to him. “Next time, I will rip your testicles off. Now you go, apologise, pay for your food, tip, leave the place, and bring along those pieces of shit that you call friend. Am I clear?” Caleb said. The guy nodded. Caleb released the pressure. The guy run to the till, holding his crotch for the pain, and limping. He apologised and paid. The pack left. Caleb went back to his sit and kept eating his delicious Gumbo. This time I am going to film this match and I will upload in my persona page, Caleb thought and smiled. I want to crush his jaw. Put him on a liquid diet. He won’t be able to compete for at a least a year. Caleb thought. I will exceed this time. I want that one to suffer. I want him to beg for mercy, scream, yelling like a child, asking help for his mother. I won’t be dedicated at all. This body will wreck his body. I will break him. I will be his meat grinder. I know I am. What I did to the last bodybuilder, I will do it to him, exponentially. Caleb thought. He noticed that he had an hard-on and gently caressed his hard penis. It was about to explode, tear the tight denim off. He smiled. Caleb finished his Gumbo, went to the till and paid. The waitress was there smiling. “I really want to thank you for what you did to me. I think that guy deserved the same treatment I had.” She said. “People don’t have respect and they think they can do anything they want. Not when I am here!” Caleb said. “I am a peaceful person until someone pissed me off. Well in that case, you saw me. I get quite angry!” Caleb said. Caleb tipped 50 bucks, and left the cafeteria. Showing his perfect ass to all the present people. He wanted to show his body. It was afternoon. Caleb decided to come back home. He wanted to train. He wanted to be ready for both competitions and the fight. Caleb decided to go through another route for his way home. The hallway he passed by was narrow, dirty, and stinky but wanted to arrive home as soon as possible to train. He thought that a shower before and after the training was needed. His body would’ve smelled of what the hallway had to offer. He took his phone from his back pocket. Sliding an iPhone from a pocket wearing tight denims that were wrapped in a muscular a perfect bottom, was not an easy task, but he succeeded after few attempts. He checked for any texts or missed call. Nothing. Fine. He couldn’t be bothered to change his plans. His head was bent over watching at the phone, but he noticed some movements. Four people. The pack was back. One huge person. Probably 6’6’’ tall. Muscular. A bodybuilder. He stopped. The big giant walked towards him. He grabbed Caleb by the throat. He lifted him up, several inches from the pavement. He brought him close to his eyes. Caleb grabbed the giant’s wrist with his palm, trying to get free. “I am going to kill you! You don’t play with my friend!” The giant said. “You…you…you…” Caleb tried to say. “I…I…I…I am, what?” The giant said. “You are dead!” Caleb said, smirking. He punched his face so hard that the giant released the hold, letting Caleb land on his foot and knee, with a fist on the pavement. Like a superhero performance. The giant was holding his face. Caleb stood up and uppercut his fist into the Giant stomach, like a spear, like a hot knife into butter. The giant’s hand moved from his face to his stomach. He gasped. He moaned. He pissed himself. His face was in terror mixed to pain. Limping, he turned to his friends. They were horrified. His arms were crossed over his stomach. Caleb did not loose time, and grabbing the giant by behind, he wrapped his arms around his waist, and like a professional wrestler, he lifted the mountain off the ground and performed a German suplex. His head hit the pavement, while Caleb’s body was arching. He threw the giant’s body aside. “You’d better run, or you will have the same treatment!” The pack left. Frightened. Scared. In the meantime, in London, Adam and Kevin were packing the bags. Their flight was due in few hours to New Orleans to then move to Baton Rouge. That was the only information that Adam gave to Kevin in addition to the hairy description of the guy that Adam will be facing in a few days. “I cannot wait to know which person you’re going to fight and destroy. Especially to know what you’re going to do to him.” Kevin said. “You all be impressed by the guy I will be wrestling. He is less impressive compared to this body. I will destroy him from his head to his feet. It will be a massacre. As usual!” Adam said while rubbing his hands over this pecs covered by the t-shirt that were visible from miles away. Kevin had an erection. Adam rubbed his hands over Kevin’s hard cock. “Your penis will explode during the fight. I am 100% sure!” Adam said. Kevin smiled. “I think so that too. I would probably wear 3 layers of underwear. I don’t want to be like a hose-pipe. I need to keep it refrained to erupt!” Kevin said sarcastically smiling. Adam roared laughing. They both did. The left the house, the taxi was there waiting for the two guys. They jumped on in and left the house behind. Destination Louisiana.

QUARY AND THE MUSCLE FAGS OF KURAI by Quote the Raven (c) JANUARY 2021 Of Quarium, all that could be shared I put forward in an ode. Chapter 1 - Desert (Sahra’) In April each year, Kurai temperatures climb to ninety degrees. They stay there and higher for half a year. - The Non-Arabs’ Guide to Kurai. A hollow concrete form in the center of the Narra al Maktoun Solar Farm 43 kilometers south of Kurai City in Kurai fills a structural role — spacing or reinforcement or something similar. The form sits invisibly amongst hundreds of acres of concrete footings and shiny black glass regiments in an otherwise barren landscape. Ejaaz Eud’laat does not know the purpose of the form, only that he has purposefully found it to shelter in its shaded interior. He swelters as he tapes reflective foil sheets to two cement openings at either end, working wall-to-wall, end-to-end, eight layers thick. The sheets block him in making it more suffocating, stifling and hot than this early July day already is. When the changes start though, the layered separation will not increase the heat, but will do the opposite and enable and protect cold. As Ejaaz endeavors at the curtaining, nerves unsteady him. They tremor his hands and intensely roil his gut. But desire pushes coveting in his veins so extreme that the rhythm of his heart pumping almost throbs aloud the needing of his efforts. He talks to himself. “You’ve done this before, Ejaaz. You’ll do this again. You can do it. You will.” When the layers of sheeting hang completed, he thinks, Get out of these clothes. Robes and keffiyeh that served his former obesity swamp off roomily and effortlessly from his coiled composition — a composition that now only strictly-dieted, intense university cricket or endurance athletics or champion swimming would have forged. He’s never done such training, though, has he. He never went for sport, fuck it, some did, but why could he never have taken to it. He does see now and feel now so palpably how worth it it would have been. He’s never put in years of those kinds of workouts — any fucking kind actually — or that disciplined, necessarily regimented, eating — The eating of the cast iron, forged iron will. He’s never cleaved himself to the half decade that would have forged this goddish muscly whippetness. Oh fuck it up, if only he had fucking done exactly that, what a jack he would have been all along, more so month by month, year by year. With the layers of sheeting and the concrete’s one-foot thickness, the space is dark now, it steams with heat. That’s too be expected — he resists the temptation to doubt how it will work. He drips with boiled sheens of fluid. The way he’s prepared the space, the change to the temperature will surely happen — won’t take long. He knows he knows that. Perspiration almost flows from his so recently chiseled jaw and rolls down his so new hard flat brown front. He takes a giant draft of ionized water. It really is the perfect environment now that it’s sealed off — what is to happen in his body will make it work — hard, foot-thick muffling and insulating walls, ultimately remote, and undiscoverable. And just how fucking remote it is, that is the key really — the ultimate reason for choosing here... oh yeah if he could be a betting man why wouldn’t he put money on that. But, fuck, he’s betting much more than money isn’t he anyway. His eyes fall to this body and he is greedy with it. It is indescribably beautiful so shredded and hard and chiseledly trim. Fuck yeah. He knows this is just the start. His eyes go also to his briefs. A snicker disrespects the member there. You’re good, baby, you really are, he thinks, I’ve been ok with you, have made you work, but really, you’re still so nothing. You’ll preen so much more, won’t you baby. Both you and muscle, when you’re both big fuck bold boys, I’ll preen you hard won’t I, fucks, you are both just part of what I’m meant for. Prior use has him to this result — improved from so pitiful, so grossly worse than average, so ignorable or really contemptible — the photo of fucking contemptible — doughy, mr full-on gigantic fat load, obese as a fucking fuck — just twenty-one days ago at 20 years old. Doses have changed him so much already haven’t they though? For sure, but changed him only because of his enduring their evil heinousness, uggghh — abiding the fucking heinous torturing violating heinousness — Allah dammit — oh well, he’s done it now — three times — but he won’t stop now — can only dream now to do it over and over and over and over and over and over again. He mouths, “I. HaVE. to.” He crouches into the wall. Remote, concrete-reduced warmth kisses the hard little sweet curvy sweat ass he has cheated himself to now. He wants it fucked right now, but thinks, Thank you. His ass is so perfectly bubbly, little, rock hard.... round. Ohh. It’s so Hard. Unnh. The location gives desolation — his torture chamber will be effectively and brutally unhearable. This jury-rigged, just-passable buffer will grow to be an ample deep freeze chamber against the outside heat, and will let cold accumulate and oh so drive the compound to work. “Fuck you,” he enunciates, knotted inside.“Fuck the fuck.” Bad language has emerged in him destroying what he was. Self-abuse, even just three doses worth, have rape-assaulted him, roughened him, made it so dirty words vulgarize the changing him — oh how they overthrow his twenty years of prissy, pussy, repressive, Arab-old-lady dictated, fucking mores. Urges ejaculate all over that fucked submissiveness, don’t they? His upper lip curls back from his teeth and his breath makes an exhaling snarl. He reaches out now and eases a vial from a cooler. “Fucker!” he spits. It is this vessel’s transforming compound that births the emerging man’s crudities. Tilting the vial, its liquid shifts between silver, green, gold, and blue. Saliva attempts to gather in his mouth, but his pouty lips crack from heat, and from both the charge and the fears. Opening it, the tube puffs a vapor cloud — a shimmering fog. “Slut,” he seethes, “I hate you,” but also he adds, “I fucking worship you, baby.” He’s so incredibly tempted to snort the Quarium, right then and there, and just have it over, just have it so that he feels...feeeEeeEeels it all here and now — euphoria, greatness, grandeur — everything. But he exerts every last tiny kernel of his too limited willpower — snorting isn’t the way. He needs what’s harder but so much more. So, instead, a syringe draws up the liquid beneath the mist. The liquid is called Quarium. “It’s go time. It is. Now is the time to go. To say go. To do it. Please! Come On. It’s go go go go go fucking go gotime to go.” The dose, Quarium loaded all behind the needle, threatens now and he points the ministration at his so alien taut trim crushingly desirable obliqued side, determined to survive and thrive, but not able to escape feeling totally in danger. He’s engaging in absolute self-deceit when he says, “This is completely safe and easy, Ejj!” What, without exaggeration, would be described as unlimited fear jarringly jitters his hand as he attempts entry and the needle jabs a slashing plunge, nothing that remotely approximates a calm, controlled pin. Nearly no part of Ejaaz’s conscious brain can register anything but anxious terror at this moment. The insertion tolerates the gross inaccuracy of his stab though and offers a still acceptable option for pushing in the dose. Just be fucking brave and do it, dammit, Ejaaz!! a shred of his will finally proffers, penetrating into the haze of his alarm. A workable command, his fingers, almost on auto-pilot, squeeze; rivulets thread continuous cold virulence into his flesh. “Yess,” he hopes to say, but more rawly what comes out is “NOOOoOOOoOoOOO!” — so emotional, so afraid at what he knows in an instant is to be intolerable excruciation. The green-silver squelches in, indifferent to any feeling — particularly the rising pulsing fear. The serum, loosened, oozes. It is irretrievable. The poison takes occupation, assumes its subject territory. Ejaaz clenches.... resistance the definition of fucking futility though. Like his prior uses, it’s possible to feel the liquid chill consuming his veins, spilling everywhere through his flesh, ignoring humanity. The blood’s additive pushes advancements depravedly into his body, pillaging, cold-raping, violating progressive landgrabs as it goes. Panic pushes Ejaaz’s stomach into his throat. Ejaaz prays if it would just spew from his mouth, oh, if only that would possibly carry this bottomless fucking fear and destruction from his body. “Oh AllAH. FUCK the great god Quarium!” he shouts. And then, because his brain is heavy already, he slurs, “You NASTY naStY nassttyt..... fu..fu...fuck-devil...” From the wall, he lists forward and then falls forward. The ripped trim body that is so very very hot — perfect long toned curved legs, cinched ripped waist, jockey shoulders, and rocking swimsuit-model arms, and all still new to him — languors out ravishingly as he smothers into the pillow of the thermic insulating sleeping bag prepared there. A deepening ice age gradually and progressively submerges him, annexing his sylvan flesh, his wiry, whippety torso and limbs, his blood, his bones, his genitals — all that had been obese, fetid, abhorrent just weeks ago. Unconsciousness claims him. **** Twenty hours pass. If unconsciousness cleft the ice shelf of his mind from the main and sank it in North Sea waters, the berg breaching the surface reawakens him. Insulated by foiled layers at the tunnels opening and the sleeping bag, while Ejaaz is gone from this world, his temperature and that in his crafted space dropped to below 0C/32F degrees. In the chamber, rime coats walls and ceiling and everything, even the foiled barrier. It’s a cold dark freezer of isolation — extreme to a degree far eclipsing even any previous shot. Brutally bare except for orange underwear, Ejaaz’s raw skinned body prostrates a heartbreaking, snowstormed, make-model purple corpse — hipbones and ribs and solidified sinews. He’s so abominalized he’s almost beyond aching — but he aches, aches gravitationally. Hoar glazes his skin and the cloth over his tantalizing pubes. Fog streams in and out of his ajar mouth. Invisible Kelvinic blades mutilate his striated flesh in the shoveling thousands. Daggering vectors spear viciously into his drop-dead skull. He can’t move, he’s so ice-tombed. “Noooo,” he whimpers, “enshallah, pleahhe.” Then he gathers his objections and yaps, “No” — A sound agonized and croaky struggles out because his vocal chords both harden in one position and because hour after hour of comatose screaming have sanded them raw. His sublime jaw mainly freezes open in place. Outside, the high unchallenged sun flames. Sand scorches about the foundations of al Maktoum, baked worse than a kiln. Concrete and steel footings sizzle. Four square miles of black glass horde sunlight then dazzle it back into the sky. How can it be so inhospitably hot when the nondescript concrete form hidden in the middle of it all shudders with the nihilation of outer space. In the tunnel, it is Quarium in Ejaaz that generates endothermic extremes, terraforming the concrete to match the exterior of McMurdo Antarctic Scientific Base upon a months-long night. Unabated by searing heat and injected instead of sniffed, Quarium molecules failed to bind to Ejaaz’s cell receptors, instead entering into his cells. Destiny now unfolds. If instead there were heat — i.e., baking direct Arabian sun — and if sniffed, it would be different. In that situation, Ejaaz’s cells’ receptors would have received the Quarium and bonded, then caused a cloning of cells to explode. A warm environment causes Quarium to make fleeting Shadowcells — desirable musculoskeletal replicas. They flourish in ratios of up to two dozen or more for each native cell. With sniffing and heat, before a Quarium user’s eyes, an Arab guy’s sweaty, perspiring body expands in girth and power with growth. Shadowcells in him proliferate as uncontrollably promiscuous as a nation’s worth of bare-assed bubbly-butted submariners occupying every square inch of a sirening 1960s erotic cartoon steamy island poster. The unbridledness of the cells’ replication rams guys’ growth — explodes them into objects of lust — sizeable, full, meaty, snorting, dripping things, like massive studs, like big bull cocks, like brimming djinns — full of libido and power — cut, jacked, huge. It happens in proportion to the Quarium and the thermic source and the guy. With extreme heat and Quarium molecules, any poxy loser becomes gorgeously muscular. Cells mass and magnificate him. They hyper masculinize him — the new found grodiness rages in a metamorphosed rippling gay or bi or even straight fagbeast who has hijacked all the trappings of ultra bodybuilding, porning masculinity while the baking heat persists. But the external heat always abates eventually and the circulatory system’s pace recalibrates, and the shadow cells subside upon loss of energy. So one ought understand: an inhaled administration of Quarium (misted up one’s nose) when done in great heat expands and then subsides. Orgasmic flexing swells into exquisite being, parades conquering raunchy triumphancy, narcisses and exhibits erectionally, ejaculates climaxingly, and then disappears as the dissipation and reabsorption of shadow cells unfold. Contemplate, a wimpy faggot sniffing Quarium with some loser friends in the dazzling Arab summer morning. See their unworked little bodies bulk up and grow fantastic before their lechery eyes. Imagine them narcissistically swept into the lording of the gigantic bodies they receive, ostentatiously wearing bikinis cut so low and so tight that they more than show off what they’ve drugged for themselves, that it reveals every aspect of what they have done on purpose — the hugening of their mountainous chests, bouldering of monumental shoulders, crowding of climbing backs and traps, rising of their incredible biceps, expansion of their enormous curving asses, and the unbelievably thick legs that stage behind awesomely transformed barely-clothed-over himbo dicks and balls. They earthquake their strength and vitality, oozing the enthrallment to feel such vast beef across their bodies, weighting them down, mountaining them up, widening them like the Ranhad T’maad span, arching them toward the sky from the great asses they have, planting them in the ground with their bridge truncheons of legs, expanding torsorally with monolithicality. They feel all these things for every minute of the Sun’s journey across the sky. And then shift to consider the late day sinking disappearance of the sun, the hot blast easing, the moisture-sparse air of an arid land not retaining the heat it has gained. Envision the gentle cooling from that. And, in conjunction, conjure the thought of thumping heart rates that release orgasms the kind of which these fuck-nothings would piss just to realize existed. They would spuge-detonate after eight or thirteen hours of oversized, so-bare-they’re-more-vulgar-than-naked raunchy foreplay. Afterward, their cumming-eased heart-rates back down from porn-horny pace. Understand that a diminished, fever-broken bloodflow brings less energy to cells, tires the hosts of those blood cells, has them doze, and know then that shadow cells in the temporary Mr. Olympians say goodbye. Over hours, the cells aerobate until a quarter day later, neither the Quarium, nor anything the Quarium dingle-servingly wrought in the sniff-poxy-pansies exists any longer. Individuals who for soul-joying hours ass-humped as gluttonous gargantuans, muscling more extremely than Grimes or Kai Greene or baby Forslin or Marcello, revert to exactly the fagstupid putrid nothing fucks they had been. But, that is not Ejaaz here, that is not him now. ———————

Hi. Just wanted to be the first besides you to post story here lol. First post here, sorry if it's bad. So, this story takes place in the same location, but there are a couple new characters. (Theresa) "Hello Theresa." A small woman behind her desk beamed at the taller woman who entered the room. "Hi, I got to say, I got a call back from a job application, but I don't remember applying for a job?" Theresa blushed. "Of course, my memory is rather forgetful lately." "That's okay. You didn't. One of my contacts recommended you and reading your file, I see you have talents that could really be useful in my field." Corinne filed through a stack of papers as if she hadn't already read it all. "Are there any medical problems you may have that we're not aware of?" she asked. Theresa shook her head, then thought again. "Actually there is one thing. It seems like my skin has been overly sensitive lately? I don't know. It's weird. It's probably nothing." Corinne smiled. "On the contrary. It's why I called you here." She opened up a drawer in her desk and pulled out three rather old pieces of--what, flesh? Yikes. "Now, I'm sure you don't live under a rock and know about the erm-muscle pandemic that's been going around." Theresa smiled and nodded. "Well, I have a theory, that if correct, can be very advantageous in purging this plague." Theresa's smile dropped. "Purge?" Corinne's face turned serious. "Of course. These people are murderers, they're subhuman, they're horrifying. Act on instinct. Animals. All of them." Theresa sighed. Not all of them, she thought, thinking of her late husband. Corinne moved the human flesh onto the desk in front of Theresa. "Can you tell me which of these three late people used to be muscle freaks?" Theresa's hand recoiled in disgust. "These were human? I don't know what's happening but this is a giant red flag and I don't feel very comfortable here." Corinne sighed. "I'm prepared to pay you 1000 dollars per day you work." Theresa's eyes widened. "You know, all of a sudden I'm colorblind to that red flag! How odd." she fingered at the flesh, feeling revolted. As she touched the second set of skin, she recoiled as if she had been zapped. Corinne gleamed. "Well, my theory is correct. You, Theresa, have a very rare special ability, one that has an intense reaction against any muscle thieves you may come across. Now, you can go back to your old life and feel zapped whenever a muscle thief touches your skin, or you can use it to your advantage, and help me by hunt them down." "How do I do that?" "Well, all you need to do is shake hands with someone and you know whether they're a muscle fre--muscle thief or not. That is a very incredible ability in this day and age, especially working with me." Corinne sighed. "Of course, my contacts can find most of them. But there will be some muscle thieves off the radar, and you, my friend, are the way I can find those other thieves." Corinne started folding up the papers and stacking them neatly. "We'll meet in two days again. I'll text you the location." Theresa didn't bother to ask how she knew her phone number. Theresa was very unnerved by Corinne, but then again, what choice did she have? It felt so bad to get zapped, and she had gotten much thinner over the past few weeks. When Theresa left the room, Corinne picked up her phone. Pressed 10 numbers. The phone picked up immediately. "Hi, Joe" "Enough small talk. What do you want?" "Coordinates?" "Gavin's at Victor's house. You know the place. It looks like he'll stay there for a while." Corinne nodded. Then, after realizing nodding does nothing when on the phone, she said "Alright. I'm going there now. Theresa should be on my side now." "We'll see." Joe hung up the phone first. Corinne pulled out another thing from her drawer. A gun. Making sure it was loaded, she prepared for the journey. She was going to Victor's house to shoot Gavin. Only this time, she won't miss. Sorry if this doesn't make sense, it's pretty late when I'm typing this lol.

Part 1 Monday, March 22 Bruiser Reeves awoke and looked at the small alarm clock. 12:45pm. He opened his big mouth to yawn, pushed the black comforter off his almost-naked body, and glided out of bed. The sun streamed in between the blinds covering his window and provided just enough light for the big man to catch his reflection in the extra-large full-length mirror attached to his bedroom wall. Wearing only his jockstrap, he stood up to his full 6’4” height, flexed his massive biceps, and flashed a smile. “Fuck, yeah,” he said. “Big stud, big muscle.” He rummaged around his dresser for some clothes and settled on a XXL plain white T and black workout shorts, and went into his bathroom to shave and brush his teeth. Five minutes later he finished and headed to the kitchen. After downing two of the protein shakes that had been prepared for him, the 23-year old walked down the street toward the gym. Bruiser didn’t need to walk – he had his own brand new truck, and thanks to the very generous allowance from his father, he also had a bank account large enough to Uber wherever he could possibly need to go. He didn’t even need to go to a gym – again, his rich dad had set up quite the workout space in the basement of their home. But for Bruiser, the journey from his house to the gym were his favorite parts of the week. The sidewalks were always crowded around noon, as folks headed out for lunches and shopping and errands and whatever, and he could command attention from the ‘normals’ with his looks. They would stare at his Hulk-like body and his handsome face with its strong jaw, short-cropped black hair, deep green eyes, and perfectly white teeth. Today, his tanned skin looked even richer underneath the bright white shirt, and his recent super-heavy leg workouts contributed to the rock-hard thighs and calves sticking out from his shorts. Bruiser not only commanded attention from those passing him by, but also commanded space as he strut down the sidewalk. He positioned his 260-pound frame right in the center of the concrete strip and forced others to move out of his way. Bruiser got a huge thrill when people scurried out of his way at the last-second – and if he had to the opportunity to ‘accidentally’ bump someone and send them sprawling to the ground, well, in those cases, his dick would get hard. It didn’t matter if he knocked over a man of a woman, Bruiser never apologized, but would usually just laugh and offer a sarcastic comment about staying out of his way. He arrived to the downtown business district in about 15 minutes and turned the last corner before the gym, which was only three doors down. Bruiser passed the laundromat and restaurant and was about 10 steps from the gym when one of its clients hurried out the door. The guy was of medium height and had brown hair, brown eyes, and a well-kept brown beard, and he probably would have been described as handsome by many if he didn’t have at least 30 pounds of fat hanging around his middle. He was wearing an ill-fitting tan suit that may have also looked good in younger years, but now was clearly straining to cover his wider body. Bruiser smirked and thought, “I doubt Brownie could even button the coat anymore with that gut.” The man rushed onto the sidewalk straight toward Bruiser, clearing expecting the bodybuilder to move out of his way. Bruiser, however, didn’t play that game. He squared up his shoulder and blitzed forward. Brownie rethought his position at the last second when he realized he was about to collide with the much bigger, and clearly much stronger, Bruiser. He sidestepped to his right, but not fast enough to prevent clipping shoulders. Bruiser stopped walking and turned to look at the man, who was now standing right behind him and holding his left shoulder with his right arm. He was waiting an apology from Bruiser and snidely asked, “Well?” Bruiser smiled, and then with speed not usually seen in a bigger person, swiftly grabbed hold of the Brownie’s tie and jerked it forward as hard as he could. The man’s head and torso whipped down in response. Brownie blurted out “Fuck!” and waved his arms to prevent falling over. Once balanced, he instinctively grabbed onto his attacker’s fingers and tried to pry them off his tie, but it would have been easier to rip the asphalt off the street than undo Bruiser’s grip. Bruiser gave the tie another hard tug and growled, “Apologize.” Staring at the swelled-up bicep in front of his face, and realizing he probably had no other options at this point, Brownie acquiesced. “I’m so sorry! Totally my fault! I should be more careful.” Bruiser tugged once more to make sure Brownie had gotten the point and then said, “Watch where you’re going, wimp, or next time you’ll really be sorry.” “Yes, yes, very sorry!” Bruiser let go of the tie and Brownie stood up, pushing his stomach forward in the process. The add insult to injury, Bruiser grabbed the front of the man’s light blue Oxford shirt near his stomach and pulled hard, ripping off two buttons and exposing the white, soft flesh underneath. “And go to a different gym from now on." Bruiser added. “This one’s not working for you.” Brownie was going to put his arms up to loosen his tie, but instead reach down and tried to cover his flabby belly. He wanted to swear again, but said nothing and stormed off. Bruiser laughed, gave a squeeze to his semi-hard cock with his left hand, and easily opened the heavy steel door to the gym with his right. The music was blaring inside, the AC was blasting even though it was only about 65 degrees outside, and the place was populated with bodies pushing, pulling, jogging, and lifting. In the very early afternoon, most of the clients were businessmen on late lunch hours trying to keep in shape, students from the local college who had already finished their morning classes, and tourists staying at the hotel next door using the free passes available in their rooms. Bruiser was usually the only serious lifter – a big fish in the little pond – and he loved that the hotel provided a steady stream of new eyes to gaze upon him. Bruiser sauntered to the free weight area and started setting up one of the bars on a flat bench. As he added plate after plate, he sensed that the smaller guys were already eyeing him. Even though he wasn’t sweating due to the air conditioning, he pulled up the bottom of his shirt to wipe his brow and revealed his brick-like abs. Most men his size had to sacrifice a lean middle to bulk up the rest of their body, but Bruiser was blessed with the ability to achieve both a shredded midsection and big muscles. “Check it out, wusses,” he thought as he padded the non-existent sweat on his forehead with one hand and rubbed his abs with the other. “You guys could work out every minute for the next 10 years and take all the protein in the world, and you still wouldn’t look half as good as me.” When he let go of his shirt and it fell back in place, Bruiser saw he was attracting a little more attention than usual. He could generally rely on at least two or three guys looking at him when he first arrived, but he counted five already glancing his way. He decided to put on more of a show than usual. Bruiser pretended to stretch before lifting, but he made it seem more like a posing routine. He put his hands behind his head, causing his 21-inch biceps to bunch up in his tight shirt sleeves, and flexed his pecs as he rolled his head around a few times. Bruiser vigorously massaged his quads, making sure his hands lingered close to his cock for way too long, and then groaned loudly as if he were working out a kink. Finally, he was ready for the piece de resistance. Bruiser finished loading the bar with 255 pounds of iron, and sat down on the bench like he was getting ready to press it. But instead, he just retied his shoelace, stood up, and walked around to the back of the bar. Without showing any strain to the men gawking, Bruiser picked up the bar and began curling it. He lifted it up and down ten times, and put it back onto the rack with a big smile on his face. “Fuck, that’s going to get them all hard,” he thought as he wiped his brow once again of the invisible sweat. Now there were 8 men staring at the behemoth who had just curled more than twice what most of them could bench. Three were rather impressed at the feat, four were awestruck and staring with their mouths agape, and one was actually getting a hard-on. The most avid fan of the display was Luke, a slim, blond-haired man who was also 23. He was one of the hotel guests, new in town, and thought he would get in a quick workout before cruising the gay bars later in the evening. Little did he know that he’d stumble upon his personal fantasy before setting foot in any of the city’s drinking establishments. Luke liked what he saw in Bruiser…dark hair, tall, beefy, strong as a bull, and with machismo dripping out of every pore. And after curling 255 pounds, the bodybuilder’s biceps looked ferociously huge. “Definitely my type, and definitely gay,” he thought as walked up to Bruiser, who had just sat down again on the bench. “Um, you need a spotter?” asked Luke coyly. Bruiser looked over at the man who had approached him. He was maybe 5’5” or 5’6” tall, about 100 pounds, with sandy blond hair, delicate features, and was wearing a loose fitting red tank top and matching red shorts. The clothes were probably the smallest the man could find in the men’s section and were still too large for him. Bruiser couldn’t help but laugh at the question, and with his deep voice, he sounded a lot like Bluto from the Popeye cartoons. “Do these big muscles look like they need your help?” asked Bruiser. Luke stared but remained silent. Bruiser put his arms up into a double bicep pose, glanced lovingly at his right arm, and then put them back down. “Well, do they?” Luke shook his head. Bruiser continued. “And you’re nothing but skin and bones, anyway. How could someone so scrawny expect to spot me on 255 pounds?” Feeling defeated, the smaller man turned to walk away, but then Bruiser said, “But I’ll tell you what. I do need someone to buy me a sports drink or protein bars from time to time, and clean the sweat off my benches. If you can handle that, I’ll promise you a bit of fun afterward.” Luke smiled. “Deal!” Bruiser smiled, too, happy to secure a new pet for the day. “Come!” he ordered as they walked toward the dumbbell rack. He wasn’t gay, but he did like the attention from the gym twinks and used their attraction to his advantage. He completed his full body workout three hours later, now with sweat really drenching his clothes, and Luke had been right next to him the whole time. There was minimal talking during these three hours, other than eventually exchanging names and Bruiser giving out orders to Luke, but the time still passed quickly for both men. When he put down the last dumbbell, the bodybuilder repeated, “Come!” and headed for the gym door. “Don’t you want to shower first?” asked Luke, hungry to get finally his hands all over Bruiser’s body. “I can shower here for an entire audience,” Bruiser said as he gestured to the other men checking him out, “or I can shower in private for you at my house.” It wasn’t really posed as a question, but Luke didn’t care. He was so horned up, he would have done anything Bruiser told him. “Sounds good to me,” Luke replied. He followed Bruiser out the door and was so enraptured by the big man’s spell he didn’t even bother to get his street clothes from his locker. Luke tried to walk next to Bruiser and get to know him better, but Bruiser wasn’t having any of his chit chat. After half a block, he grabbed Luke’s puny 11-inch bicep in his right hand and pointed behind him with his left hand. “Just walk about 5 paces back, OK,” commanded Bruiser. “We can talk later. All you need to know is that we’re going to my place and we will have some fun.” The smaller man fell in line behind the bigger man, and Bruiser took his normal spot in the middle of the sidewalk, hoping to mow down a few folks along the way. Luke stared at his solid ass the entire time and remained quiet during the rest of the trek. Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the Reeves home. It was a large red-brick mansion, with manicured grounds and a four-car garage. Luke wanted to spend a few moments to take it all in, since it was so much bigger than the one-room apartment he lived in, but Bruiser was walking fast toward the front door so there was no time to stop. Bruiser led Luke inside and went to the back of the foyer. “Dinner ready?” yelled Bruiser. Luke heard a voice respond from the other room: “Yeah.” They entered the kitchen to find a third man who slightly resembled Bruiser. He was tall, maybe a few inches shorter than the bodybuilder, and had the same green eyes and dark hair, but his was a bit longer than Bruiser’s. The rest of him, however, was very different – pale skin, like he didn’t get outside much, and heavyset with flabby moobs and a gut sticking out from an unflatteringly tight blue polo shirt tucked into a pair of jeans that must have had a size 48 or 50 waist. Luke estimated his weight to be at least 300 pounds, but it could have been more since he was so tall. On the island next to fat man were three plates of food – one loaded up with steaks, one with green vegetables, and one with brown rice. Bruiser sat down on the closest bar stool and began cutting the steak up for himself. Luke and the other man watched him eat at first, but after about thirty seconds, both decided it was too uncomfortable to ignore one another. “I’m Pete. Bruce…,” he said while holding out his hand. “Bruiser!” interjected the muscleman. “I told you not to call me Bruce, asshole.” “Sorry,” said Pete. Luke shook Pete’s hand to break the tension. “Hi, I’m Luke. Are you his…..?” Pete noted the pause and finished the statement. “Brother. And you’re his…?” Luke wasn’t sure how to respond, so he just said, “New friend. We met at the gym today.” Pete was familiar with his brother’s habit of picking up ‘new friends.’ They never lasted very long, but he always tried to be polite. “Would you like something to eat, too?” “No, thank you. I’m not very hungry.” Pete waddled back toward the stove. “Are you sure? I just made some cinnamon rolls and I would love to get feedback. Bruiser won’t eat stuff like that and so I’m never sure how good they are.” He pulled a pan from near the stove and displayed them to Luke. The rolls were extra-large and smothered in white frosting. Luke shook his head. “No, thank you. But they do look delicious. Did you make all this food?” Pete put the pan back down and turned toward Luke again, causing his moobs and belly to jiggle. “Yes. I’m studying to be a chef, and Bruiser needs a lot of food to keep up his strength. He likes his protein.” Bruiser’s mouth was full of steak, but he grunted his agreement. “Well, Bruiser, if you change your mind, the cinnamon rolls will be waiting for you.” Bruiser swallowed the steak in his mouth. "I've told you before, Pete, that’s is not the kind of food I eat. Look at this body! You think I’d look like this if I ate that shit? Just keep the steaks and the veggies coming so I don’t end up like you.” To emphasize his point, Bruiser poked his brother in the belly, flicked Pete’s flabby left pec, and then returned to eating. Pete nodded and went back toward the oven. Luke should have been disgusted by Bruiser’s rude behavior, but the domination only turned him on more. About 30 minutes later, Bruiser finally finished his meal and walked to the stairs next to the kitchen. “Come!” he ordered. Luke, who had sat down on another barstool and silently watched Bruiser eat, got up and followed him. “Do we need to clean up?” Bruiser shook his head. “Come,” he repeated. “Pete’s work.” The bodybuilder led his new friend upstairs and into a very large room at the back of the hall. In any other home it might have been the master bedroom, but Luke figured they must all be this big in such a grand house. The room was sparsely decorated – a California King bed with a black comforter and six pillows in black shams, a nightstand with a digital clock and lamp, and two large dressers. There were windows on the east and north walls, closet doors next to the bed, and another door on the far wall that Luke assumed was for the bathroom. There were no photos, no artwork, no knickknacks – the only personal items were some sports trophies lined up across the top of both dressers. Bruiser kicked off his shoes and tossed them in the corner, and then walked toward the bathroom door. “Come,” he said again. He walked into the bathroom, flicked on the light, and then turned on the shower. Luke followed him inside and even though he should have expected it, he was still surprised at the size of the room. It was at least four times bigger than the one in his apartment and was decked out with expensive-looking tile, marble countertops, oak cabinets, a giant cast iron tub and a shower that could easily hold three or four people. Bruiser quickly disrobed and tossed his gym clothes into the hamper next to the sinks, and Luke let out a small gasp when he saw the bodybuilder completely naked. He had caught glimpses of muscles during the workout, but seeing the whole package together in the buff really took Luke’s breath away. Every muscle that Luke could see was full and hard, and the cock dangling between his legs certainly did not disappoint. “Wow,” was the only word he could muster. Bruiser grinned. “You never seen a real man with real muscles before?” Luke shook his head. “Not one like you. You look like the guys in the bodybuilding magazines.” “That’s because I am one of those guys,” Bruiser retorted while bouncing his pecs. “I won 3 contests last year and am planning to win even more this year.” Luke continued to stare. “It’s just all so…big.” Bruiser’s grin grew into a full-on smile. “Big stud with big muscle. I’ve bet I’ve got more in my right arm,” he said while holding it out in front of Luke, “than you have in your whole body.” The smaller man should have been insulted, but he was just more turned on by the comment. His cock sprang up to its full four inches while he stared at the muscle-packed arm. Steam began to emanate from the shower, so Bruiser stepped in and repeated, “Come.” Luke quickly took off his clothes, set them on the counter, and entered the enclosure. Bruiser shut the door and then roughly pushed on Luke’s head so he would get down on his knees. Luke wanted to explore more of Bruiser’s upper body, but the big man apparently needed him to get to work. Once on his knees, he took Bruiser’s giant cock in his hand and squeezed it gently. The organ immediately began to pump up in size. It was fully hard within sixty seconds, stretching out at least 10 inches long and 6 inches around. Bruiser took a step forward, bringing his hard cock so close to Luke’s face that he couldn’t focus his eyes on it. Luke backed his head up a little and adjusted his positioning, and then put his lips around the tip and started gliding his tongue around. The cock was incredibly musky after the workout, but musky was Luke’s favorite flavor. Bruiser closed his eyes as Luke worked on him. He really wasn’t gay, but he did like getting BJs from gay men. He wasn’t sure if they had stronger mouths and tongues, or if they just understood a man’s body better, but the orgasms he received from men giving him head were always much stronger than ones given to him by a woman. Luke may have only 23, but he was already an expert at blow jobs. He took more and more of Bruiser’s cock in his mouth and licked it like the world’s tastiest ice cream cone, while at the same time fondling Bruiser’s balls. Bruiser fantasized about growing bigger as the action continued. He was 260 now, but in his mind he was growing to 300, then 350, packed full of obscene amounts of muscle. The biggest man on Earth. The strongest man on Earth. Even Superman would look like a puny weakling when standing next to him. Bruiser was so into his fantasy about getting bigger that he didn’t help with the blow job at all. He didn’t help guide Luke’s head or buck his hips, but remained lost in his own dream about growing the world’s biggest muscles. Luke had to work harder and harder due to Bruiser’s inaction. He bobbed his head back and forth, swallowed as much as he could of the giant erect penis, and eventually added some teeth to the action to stimulate more arousal. That last part seemed to do the trick, because Luke could sense it was primed to release. He wasn’t sure how he knew it was about to happen, but he was never wrong. Luke pulled back one last time and jerked his head to the side. His intuition hadn’t failed this time either, as Bruiser’s whole body shuddered and his massive cannon shot forth a torrent of cum. It sprayed all over Luke’s cheek, neck and chest, and managed to hit the wall and floor, but the jetting water from the multiple shower heads immediately began washing it away. Bruiser let out a howling “FFFFUUUUUCCCCKKK” after the spray stopped, and then smiled down at Luke. “Good job, little man. Best in a long while.” Luke smiled, too, and slowly stood back up. He was hoping Bruiser might reciprocate the pleasuring, but he was quickly disappointed. Bruiser just grabbed the soap and began lathering up, and then handed it to Luke. “You might want to clean up,” said Bruiser. The two men washed their own bodies, shampooed and rinsed, and then got out of the shower. Bruiser didn’t say a word, but grabbed a towel for himself and began drying himself off. He left the bathroom, so Luke grabbed his own towel, dried himself, and got redressed. When he walked into the bedroom, Luke saw that Bruiser had already put on a fresh jockstrap and was holding a black t-shirt in his hands. The bodybuilder pulled the T over his head, and just like the white one he had worn to the gym, it showed off his muscular body very well. “Are we going somewhere, Bruiser?” asked Luke. “I’m going out with my friends,” he replied without looking over at his guest. “I assume you’re going back to the hotel?” “Um, don’t you wanna have some more fun here?” Bruiser checked himself out in the mirror above his dresser and flexed his arms a few times to make sure his look was perfect. “Nope. I’m done.” “Maybe I could come back later?” “No need. I’ll have my pick of the chicks to come home with,” said Bruiser as he reached for a small bottle of cologne from his top dresser drawer. He spritzed some on his neck and went back to admiring his reflection in the mirror. Luke was confused. “Wait. So, you’re not gay?” Bruiser turned, his face scowling. “Fuck, no. Look, I need a release after a long workout, and you guys are the best at it. And usually, there’s no whining like with the ladies. You just go down, and then go home.” The big man took a few steps toward the little man. “That’s how it works. Got it?” Luke nodded, and then quickly left the bedroom. He descended the steps and left the house angry and upset. Pete, who was still cleaning up in the kitchen, sighed as Luke left. He wanted to warn these guys that Bruiser only wanted one thing, and it wasn’t a relationship or even a one-night stand – it was a few seconds of pleasure for him, and nothing for them. If you like this story and want more like it, please check out my GrowManGrow Patreon page: https://www.patreon.com/growmangrow?fan_landing=true

I walk into gym just as it is about to close. My crush is working out, finishing her shift watching over the place. She's wearing a hot pink sports bra and Nike bike shorts with ripped abs showing. I come to the gym near closing just to see her... always intimidated and turned on at same time. She's working with the kettlebells tonight, body slick with sweat. Tonight I'm working up the courage to finally approach her with noone else around. "Hey, Tara... mind if I use the machines in here?" I ask, as I watch her nametag bounce on her impressive size D rack. "Not at all," she says between sets, winking at me in a way she winks at all the guys. She then looks at me out of the corner of her eye, shaking her head when I can't see, thinking I'm cute but still too small for her liking. When's she's not looking, I walk back toward the front of the gym, turn the lock on the door, and flip over the sign hanging on it to say "CLOSED." I’ve been a regular to the gym, but never able to gain much size. I sit on a bench at the lat pulldown station, turned away from Tara, partially to hide my growing hardon, partially to hide the bottle of pills I brought with me. Tara walks over to a mirror and checks herself out. "Fuck, I'm hot," she thinks, dragging her fingers through the trail of sweat running between her abs. As if reading her mind, I stutter and say, "You look hot." She turns and looks at me over her shoulder. "You're not wrong," she agrees with a smirk. I lose count of the pills as I can’t help but ogle her. When she turns away, I start swallowing them and chasing with water until both the water and pill bottle are empty. What the...? I shake my head, can’t believe I consumed the entire bottle. But I'm not leaving the gym until I make my move tonight, no matter what happens. "Whatcha got there, uh...?" We've never spoken before so she doesn't know my name. "My name's Kent, but you can call me whatever you want if you don’t call me out for staring," I say as I start pulling down the lat bar, but my usual weight seems light. I adjust the weight on the machine, until I’ve maxed out the weight load, impressed by my newfound strength. I smile and I begin to pull... Pull... PULL. "Hey, Kent. Maybe you should go easy. I've never seen you move that much weight before," Tara's voice sounds somewhat concerned, somewhat intrigued, as she takes a step forward. I am feeling my back getting THICKER... WIDER... I stay focused, feeling the growing muscle. My shirt getting tighter across my back. Its fabric clinging closely to my skin. Before long I'm looking insanely pumped. I stop for a moment, letting the weights clank with full force onto the ground. I am looking up at Tara, now closer to me than before. She swallows hard, taking in my new size. "Wow, Kent. That's definitely some impressive pre workout booster you got there. What brand is it?" I swing around on the bench to grab the empty bottle. I throw the closed unmarked container her way. "It's a prototype being prepared for experimentation in the biolab I work in. But I took the only supply that we've made so far.” I smile as a stretch out my new Thicker LATS, feeling like I let the genie out of the bottle, ready to make our wishes come true. “I can’t stop thinking about what a beautiful woman you are. And about how you deserve a man as impressive as you.” I wink in the same way that she does. Then I turn back to the machine, getting ready to start pulling the bar down again, this time to my chest. Same maxed out weight as before. I immediately begin to feel something strange as my shirt gets even tighter. "I've given up on looking for a man to satisfy me... Damn," Tara squeaks out, looking up in disbelief. "Look at you Kent!" She stares at my back, already swollen and bulging, tearing the fabric around it. I zone out for a moment. So focused on pulling the weight that I'd never dreamed of moving before... and Growing. Tara takes another step closer as I look at myself in the mirror. My back is getting wider, my chest, thicker. I look into my own eyes, and at first don’t recognize my own body. Pecs filling out more of my shirt. Soon Tara has moved close enough to remind me what I'm growing for. I look past her at the mirror no longer, instead now looking directly at her... and my muscles grow, as if knowing what they need to do to be worthy of her. My growing mass is too much for the shirt. It starts fraying, then tearing as I must be growing taller too. It's starting to ride up, showing massive cobblestone abs. I start to growl and groan... "Oh shit. This is unreal!" Tara pants, bringing her hands to her chest. "Fuck. This isn't normal. Kent, maybe we should get you to a hospital." I finally let the weight go and look for free weights to curl. I stand up and see that I am taller than Tara now, by at least a couple inches. I look down at her with muscle exposed under the tears in my T-shirt. Tara looks up at me, so much taller and bigger than before. There's no doubt I've grown 30lbs in just minutes. I ignore her earlier concern, reaching out and taking one of her hands, her wrist so slight in my grasp. I lay her hand on my Heaving CHEST, letting her feel it as is Swells. Then, as I enjoy her expression of awe, I decide to move on. “How much weight do you want me to curl, gorgeous?” Tara puts a finger of her free hand to her lips and twists her foot on the floor. "You could try 45 pound dumbbells. 45 pounds each," she says with a slight grin. "Although I love watching a man curl 60." "Then I’ll try... 60," I say as I back away from her, lean down, and pick them up. Tara steps on her tiptoes, finger still in her mouth, filled with anticipation and getting stirred up inside. I start curling slowly at first, and then I feel strength pour into my arms. As my arms get thicker, I start feeling something else filling out too in response to all the other growth. “Feels GOOD...” I growl. My voice is deeper, and I watch as Tara moves the hand that is still warm from resting on my Pumped MUSCLE to gently graze the spot between her legs where she has begun to gush. I continue to grow taller, and I switch... to press the dumbbells over my head now. I start working out my Traps. Tara begins to see something stirring at the front of my shorts, as i feeling an instinct to allow every part of me Grow. I begin to get Hard noticing her watching me. “You like what you see, Tara?” I start wondering how much of the size increase in my shorts is a response to her and how much might be added growth? She bites her lip in response to my question, looking at my shorts then back up at me. I've grown to 6’8, 280 pounds now. I bring the dumbbells down, CHEST Rising and Falling. Massive TRAPS Pulsing beside my Thickening NECK. Sitting down to catch my breath, I still am nearly as tall as Tara with my eyes level with her breasts. Tara reached out a trembling hand and rests it on my shoulder, MUSCLE spilling from her fingertips in every direction. I raise my gaze from her delicious tits to her hungry eyes and decide to wait no longer. I stand and widen my stance, giving the Growing MEAT between my legs more room to show itself. I step closer to the woman that I intend to make mine. With ARMS that can only be described as Huge, I wrap one hand around her tight waist and bringing her closer to the body of the only man that she will ever want or need. What is left of my shirt is barely hanging on as she licks her lips. She feels the strength in my pull, but you wouldn’t resist anyway. BICEP and TRICEPS Swelling as I prepare to make her mine. Tara begins to drag her hand down my Muscular BODY, tearing the fabric away from my PECS. "Fuck. You're still growing!" She gasps as I pull her closer again, my own CHEST now pressing against hers. While her rack is pretty magnificent, there's no question that the PECS that are Bouncing in front of me will now be getting more attention. I smile, finally feeling the power to impress a woman like Tara. I look down over my Swelling PECS. “It's all For You,” I say in a voice still getting Deeper. I place a hand on her breast, feeling so perfect in my strong caress. Her nipples are so hard and I feel that her bike shorts have become so wet as she grinds into my LEG. I instantly get Harder, my COCK jumping in response. Soon my shorts begin tightening over it and my Thicker GLUTES growing behind. Tara decides she can't wait any longer. "Fuck... Kent! I need you. Closer. Inside me. " “Think this MAN is Big enough to satisfy you?” I growl, letting my hand drop as low as it will go, able to wrap my fingers around her aching pussy. I love feeling how wet she is, and as I continue to grow, I love hearing a woman normally with so much control beg for me. Her clit is throbbing as she gushes into my hand. "Oh my fucking god!" she screams, used to being the alpha, the dominant one. But I've grown so Big and Strong. She feels an unfamiliar need to submit. “You want this BEAST inside you, babe?” I ask... flexing my ARM and fingering her with more force. "Yes... please. Kent. You're so... BIG!" 7 feet tall now, in fact. 350 pounds, mostly MUSCLE. Her juice is running down my hand, coating my fingers and forearm as she pants, "I'm so wet, so fucking wet." I guide her hands to the waist of my ever shrinking shorts where she slowly, instinctively pushes the skin tight fabric down. With some force they begin to disintegrate. My Monster COCK flops out, Long, already Stiff, then IT begins to Rise. At its Full Height it is slapping against my ABS, growing closer to the underside of my PECS. Its Thick HEAD on top of a Long Wide SHAFT juts slightly forward, dripping with pre for Tara. “I'm gonna make you mine, ” I growl. Breathlessly she replies, "Please do!" In one motion I tear apart the front of her shorts like tissue paper, exposing her sculpted legs and quivering pussy. "Oh shit!" she squeals. Goosebumps appear on her skin, inevitably being aroused by my Power. I smell how much she wants it and want to feed her before I grow too Big. With nothing to hinder it, she gushes down her legs. Raw lust preparing her to be touched like she never has been before. I graze my hand along her leg, skimming her juices. Then I bring them to my chiseled face and breathe deep. "I need you Kent. I need you growing inside me," she pleads. I rub my COCK with her wetness, and it continues to Thicken. My CHEST Heaves in anticipation. Then quickly I back her against a mirror, lifting her in the air with every one of my MUSCLES Swelling in display of their Maximum STRENGTH. My DELTS so Round, my BACK so Wide and Strong. Slowly, I lower her body around my Monster COCK. Throbbing and still GROWING... Thick with veins. Her slick lips closing around my Massive MEAT. "Cum for me Baby!" I command as I push deeper into to her. My BODY and COCK still Growing... "Oh fuck, Kent! Cum with me!" she begs. "I want that fucking monster load!" I begin to tremble, pushing so hard into the mirror that it SHATTERS! Tara digs her nails into my skin, now tough as steel. "I need it exploding inside me! God yes, show me your power!" "SO FUCKING READY!" I Roar. "Your cock feels so good! So Big! You're HUGE everywhere, KENT!" "I'M HUGE FOR YOU!" I Roar as I keep pushing deeper, stretching her in ways that will only make her want ME from now on. "So Big, So HARD. Fill me like only you can!" she begs As I surround her with MUSCLE... SMOTHERING MY MUSCLE LOVER, getting closer, "Fuck... Fuck...FUCKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!"

“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.

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.

Muscle Worship, Series 3, Part 1, Merry Christmas Just a quick Christmas story for Max and Jay. Hope everyone enjoys. Have a Merry Christmas. “Merry Christmas my sexy lover boy.” I coo quietly into Max’s right ear as he lay next to me on our king-sized bed sleeping. He barely stirs. His curly brown hair is a tangled mess and covers half of his face. I gently pull a few strands off. He lays there, tightly swaddled up in the blue and white comforter. He stole more than his fair share of the blankets last night, as always, but I’ll forgive him. I nudge a bit closer and drape my right arm over his body and tenderly pull him closer to me, blankets and all. His body is emitting a faint Old Spice smell from his deodorant and shampoo. I inhale deeply to take it all in. I think to myself, ‘My sexy man, my reason for living. God, where would I be without you? Your endless love and support for me and every crazy thing I do. You stand there, right by my side with a smile and a positive word of encouragement.’ A tear comes to my eye. I wipe it onto the blanket. ‘Not sure why I deserve someone like you, but I am so happy we met and you have stayed with me these past 7 years.’ His body twists slightly, but he doesn’t wake. He moans quietly, twists again, and mumbles my name. He unconsciously pulls the covers tighter over his body. He stiffens, then relaxes. I hear him exhale deeply. I want to stay next to my Max until he wakes, but I have things to do before he gets up. I lean over and kiss his cheek. I carefully pull my arm from his body and, as gingerly as possible for a 265-pound man, roll to my side of the bed and swing my feet over the edge. I look back and he’s still facing the other way, breathing deeply. I slowly stand up and twist my neck. I hear the bones crack. It feels good. I pull on my slippers and head to the bathroom. I close the door and turn on the light. I stare at myself in the mirror, take a deep breath and exhale, and think, ‘Well, here you are big man.’ I take a look at my body. Not too bad for someone nearing 30. 6’3”, 265, mostly muscle. I flex a pec just for fun. It hardens and I think of all the times Max as lapped at my nipples, or bitten them, to get a reaction out of me. If he knew how close to shooting my load I came every time he beat my pecs or lovingly kissed them, he’d never get off my body. The man has skills. I flex a bicep and stare at it in the mirror. I smile, imagining his tongue slathering slobber all over it, then kissing it. His kitten soft COVID beard rubbing against my hairless skin. I feel myself start to harden. My red and gold geometric patterned PJ bottoms start to tent. I look away from the mirror and take a few deep breaths. I start to soften. I head to the toilet and point my semi-hard unit at the bowl. After I finish, I wash up, brush my teeth, turn the light off, and head back out. I quietly open the bedroom door and when I’m out, close it. I pad down the hallway to the living room. The artificial tree is up and decorated. Max’s doing. I just carried it up from the storage locker because I’m strong, and put the star on the top because I’m tall. I plug the lights in and the room is now in a warm glow. There are a wide variety of ornaments on it. Mostly ones we bought together, but a few from his mother and grandparents. I have some from Gran. I few special ones she gave me to remind me of my parents and brother. Max insists they go front and center. I reach out and touch the one which has a picture of the four of us the summer before the accident. I was so young and my brother was just a toddler. I rub my finger across my parents faces and ache at their loss. Another tear comes to my eyes. I rub it away with my forearm. I glance to the presents below. All shapes and sizes. Every one has a pile and all the gifts in that person’s pile has the same wrapping paper. Again, Max’s doing. I see the gifts I got for every one and wrapped. I am slightly embarrassed. Too much tape on one, not enough paper on another, or two kinds of paper on one. It happens when you misjudge how much paper you have left. I see the small box hidden under the tree, toward the back. It’s for Max and I hope he likes it. It took forever to find it. I had to do this one alone. I take another deep breath and head to the kitchen. I get stuff from the fridge and start to make our annual breakfast. The one day, more or less, we don’t count calories or worry about over-eating. It’ll actually be more like a week this year. Today is our day together, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, just the two of us. Tomorrow, Gran’s for the day, spend the night, and then we all head to Max’s parent’s house for another day, or so he thinks is the plan. I start to crack some eggs into a bowl and get the bacon and scrapple on the stove. I check my phone for messages. None. Guess no one else is up at 8am today. Good for them. I pull the fruit salad out of the fridge and put it on the table to take the chill off it. I turn the oven on so I can keep stuff warm. I pop some bread into the toaster and get the juice out. I am knee deep in food prep; I miss hearing Max come into the kitchen. He sleepily says, “Merry Christmas Jay.” I feel his still warm body press against my back. He kisses my spine right between my shoulder blades. He puts his head against my back and wraps his arms around my mid-section. He pulls us closer together and I hear him hum. His curly hair rubs against my back and feels so nice. I stop what I’m doing, put the utensils down, and stare at the wall in front of me for a moment, taking in this special feeling and the man sharing it with me. He loosens his grip. I turn to face him. I lean down, he leans up, and we kiss. I cup his face and pull him closer. He gets on his tippy toes. We hold the kiss for a while, just enjoying the feeling. I break it first. I comb my fingers thru his messy curls and smile. He puts a warm hand on my chest and tenderly squeezes my pec. I don’t flex it and allow him to feel the muscle. He leans back in and kisses me between my pecs. It feels great. I smile. After another few moments, the toast pops up, bringing us both back to reality. I pull away slowly, look into his deep brown eyes and say, “Breakfast is almost ready.” He absently puts a hand on my forearm and pats it. He turns and walks back down the hallway. “Please grab me a sweatshirt on your way back.” He gives me a thumbs up. I get plates, silverware, utensils, and napkins out and onto the table. I pile the scrambled eggs into a bowl. I put them in the oven and turn my attention to the bacon and scrapple. I put some paper towels on the counter and move them to it. I let them drain for a minute and then put them on a plate and put it in the over too. Toast gets buttered and into the oven. I pull out some strawberry jam his mom made and put it on the table. I look up to see Max coming back down the hall. He’s changed from his polar bear fleece PJ bottoms to a pair of grey sweatpants and a long sleeve dark blue t-shirt with Dewey Beach printed across the front. He’s brought me a navy blue sweat shirt as well. He looks more awake. He hands me the sweat shirt and I pull it on. He sarcastically says, “Not sure why you need it? It’ll be coming off in about 10 minutes.” He cracks his winning mischievous smile and raises an eyebrow at me. I wink at him and retort, “That’s what you think sexy man.” He smiles and pulls me in for a bear hug. He squeezes as tightly as he can. I reach over his shoulder and rub his back. I kiss the top of his head, lean down, and snuggle with him. I feel his hands reach for my glutes and squeeze them. He breaks the hug and says, “What is there left to do?” He scans the kitchen to see if there is anything. “Max, everything is ready.” He looks at me with quizzical eyes. I sense his growing concern. I puff my chest out, expanding the sweat shirt to its limit and self-assuredly say, “Excuse me, Gran did teach me how to cook. Even though you do most of it, I am proficient in the kitchen.” I exhale, lean down, and kiss him on the nose. He laughs, pats me on the chest, as if appeasing me, and says, “Ok Emeril, let’s get the meal started.” I laugh with him. We sit and I spoon some fruit into our bowls. Granny Smith apples, mangos, and navel oranges. We take our time and talk. No reason to rush anything. Max talks about Ian and Colin’s latest adventures with Eddie. He must have gotten an earful at the last meeting of the Little Guy’s club. He says they are headed to the twin’s parents’ house in Central Pennsylvania for the holiday. I say, “I feel sorry for their parents, but I’m sure they’ve had to deal with worse.” He laughs. He then says, “Cam and Ming went to California to be with Cam’s mom.” I nod. “And Ty and Davey are still around, but keeping to themselves.” I look up and say, “Really?” “Yeah, Davey said he’s had a rough time recently and just wants to spend some alone time with Ty. He said they may head to the beach house if Kenny and Stu aren’t there.” I nod. We finish the fruit and I move the bowls to the sink. I put on a pair of oven mitts and start to pull items from the oven. I set them on the table. Max watches and nods with approval. As I sit, he starts to scoop eggs onto a plate for me, then some for himself. I grab a few slices of bacon and a slab of scrapple. He does the same. We both get toast. I go for the jam, but he does not. I look at him and ask, “Don’t like mom’s jam?” He shakes his head no and explains, “Ever since the night of chocolate and whipped cream, my craving for sweets has been different. I still love the jam, but not as often as I used to.” I think back to the night Max is talking about, and remember the long days we had around it. I reach my hand out and put it on top of his and tenderly caress him. I look him in his deep brown eyes and see a pain which I cannot take away. As much as I love Max, the things he has endured because of our being gay, and being proud of our relationship, hurts me deeply. Suddenly many memories flood back to me. When Max and I met and the beach and had our first run-in with Shawn, Max’s broken arm, and then his coma. I feel an anger in my chest and a pit in my stomach. I want to hold Max in my arms and cradle him, protecting him from the outside world, but I know I could never do that. Max would chide me for trying to protect him from the world, even though it has hurt him, and us, so many times. I come out of my thoughts and see him staring into my eyes. His other hand on top of mine, massaging it. He quietly says, “Don’t.” I know what he means. I close my eyes and take a deep breath and let the ugly memories flow away. I take another breath and open my eyes, feeling better. I smile at him. He smiles back. We dig into the food. It’s good. We both finish our first plates and I start to reach for more. Max is right behind me. We continue to talk, just small talk, weather, gym, work. With COVID shutting Ty’s gym, we are strapped for workout equipment. Sure, I can use Max as weight for bench presses or squats, but he is really at a loss. Ty offered to let us in the gym on the sly, but I said no and explained why. I don’t want him getting busted because someone was upset that they weren’t allowed to join us. Cam and Ming asked if they could borrow a flat bench and some weight and put them in their basement. Ty gave them some stuff. We try to get over there on the weekends. It’s hard to get into a good flow when 10 guys are crowding the basement for the few pieces of equipment they have. Working from home has been a challenge. Max’s programming job means he can work from anywhere. He just needs a stable connection. My mortgage underwriting job is pretty much the same. Give me a laptop and the internet and I’m good to go. But being around my OCD man 24/7 has been rough on both of us from time to time. Who’s turn is it to wash the dishes, or do the laundry, or flip the mattress. Ok, the last one is all me, I’m the one with the muscles, and he doesn’t let me forget it. We start to clean up and put everything into the dishwasher. As we finish, I hear him say, “I want to call my parents and see how Shae and Ro are.” I look over to him and nod. He then says, “Are you going to call Gran? It’s past 5am, so we know she’s up.” He giggles and I crack a smile, knowing he’s right. I hesitantly say to him, “Maybe in a bit.” He looks at me weirdly. “She sent me a text before you got up saying she was going to have her friends Mattie and Sam over for breakfast. I don’t want to interrupt them. I’ll call her after lunch.” He nods ok. He grabs his phone and speed dials his mom. He puts it on speaker. It goes right to voicemail. He frowns. When the phone beeps, he says, “Hey mom, Merry Christmas to everyone. We’re just finishing breakfast. Hope Shae and Ro got some great gifts. Give me a call when you get a chance. Love you.” He hangs up and stares at the phone. “She always answers. I hope nothing is wrong. Maybe I should call dad?” I step in and say, “Max, they’re probably opening gifts or something. Let them be. Mom will call you back soon enough.” He sighs and nods. I pull him into a hug. I quietly say, “Maybe we can open some of our own gifts to each other, hmm? Not the big ones, just one or two smaller ones.” I feel his hand reach for my unit through my PJ bottoms. “Max, I said not the bigger ones.” He sarcastically comes back with, “I know. I’m playing with one of my smaller gifts.” He lets out a raucous laugh. I laugh to myself, then bend down, pick him up, and toss him over my shoulder. I swat his butt and say, “Well there goes one gift back to the store. Want to try for another?” I carry him into the living room. I flip him back over, set him on the couch, and flop down next to him. He’s got a big grin on his face. I move in for another kiss. I can smell the bacon and eggs on his breath, as I’m sure he can smell them on mine. We get comfortable. I glance at the clock on the TV, 9:30. I announce, “Well, we need a little Christmas in this place, grab a gift for me to open and I’ll get one for you.” He smiles and jumps up. He goes over to the tree and starts to root through his pile of gifts for me. He pulls out a medium sized box. The wrapping paper he chose for me this year was White with silver bells and red holly berries on it. I follow him over and find a smaller box for him. It is wrapped in red paper with a green Christmas tree pattern. This one has a bit too much tape on it. We go back to the couch and hand them to each other. He rolls his around in his hand and says, “Are you sure you want me to open this, it’s wrapped pretty tightly?” I give him a sideways glance and gruffly say, “Keep it up sexy boy. That gift can go to the next person I see on the street.” He laughs and rips the paper off. He opens the box and sees the paper inside. He slowly takes it out and checks the box to make sure there is nothing else inside. “Just open the paper.” I say exasperatedly. He unfolds it and sees it’s a coupon for a massage at the spa he likes to go to. He suddenly has an ear-to-ear grin. “Oh Jay, this is great. Thank you very much.” He leans over and kisses me on the cheek. I start to unwrap his gift to me. Once I get the paper off, I see the box is an old shirt box I had. I glance at him wondering what he put inside it. I quickly open the lid and see four new pair of posing trunks. I blush and smile. There is a bright red one, a neon green, a metallic grey, and a purple thong. “Not too subtle there, Max.” I say holding up the purple thong. “I know Muscles, but I want you to look your best the next time you step on the stage.” I put the purple one back in the box and say, “I’ll wear that one when it’s just the two of us.” I pat him on the leg and give him a kiss. We go for two more. I get a couple workout shorts and he gets another Dewey long sleeve T-shirt. Another round. His turn for workout shorts. I get a remote car starter. Last round. I go for the gift hidden in the back and with some stealth, pull my phone out and click the video/record button. He pulls out another medium sized box. I put my phone next to me, out of sight and go first, slowly unwrapping the box. As I pull the lid off, I see a couple bottles of suntan lotion, SPF 100. Max immediately starts to laugh. I smile and laugh as well. I pull him close and squeeze him tightly. I say, “My sexy man, always looking out for me.” He picks up the box and rolls it around in his hand. He looks at me with questioning eyes. He says with humor in his voice, “Well, it’s too small to be the new 2021 BMW X5 I asked for.” I nod in agreement. “And I can hear something inside, so I know the box is not empty.” I nod again. “Maybe it’s the key to one.” His eye flare with excitement and he rips the paper off. He sees the deep purple velvet box and suddenly stops and turns face me. His mouth falls open, but no words come out. I take the box from his shaking hand. My hands are shaking just as much. I move off the couch and kneel in front of him. He’s still speechless. I open the box to show him two platinum wedding bands. There are tears streaming down his face. I choke up and start the speech I’ve been practicing for the past 3 months. “Max, my sexy man, my meaning for living, my everything. Seven years ago, you walked into my mundane life and it hasn’t been the same since. We have had some crazy times and some wonderful times; I just hope the wonderful times outweigh the crazy ones.” He’s still tearing up, as I start to do as well. “You know I care for you so much, but it’s probably not as much as you can imagine. I’d walk on hot coals or eat live spiders if I had to, to save your life.” His left hand reaches down to my face and massages my right cheek and jaw line. “You have been my beacon when I’m lost, my strength when I’m weak, and my lifeline when I’m drowning.” I pause and take a deep breath. “I cannot imagine my life going on without you in it. I know we’re in this for the long haul, but I want to make it official. I want to marry you. Will you be my husband?” He breaks down and is full out crying. Tears streaming down his face, lips trembling, and his right hand is a fist in his lap. His mouth opens again, but still no words come out, just some noises from the back of his throat. I get up off my knees and sit next to him again. I wrap my arms around him and twist him around into my lap so we are face to face. His red eyes match my flushed face. His nose is running and he sniffles to keep it from running out. He suddenly punches my left pec. I laugh and he does it again. I pull him in for a hug. After a minute, we’ve both calmed down. He pushes himself away from me, looks me in the eyes and quietly says, “Jason Matthew, I’d be honored to be your husband.” I start to cry again, as does he. He falls back onto body. I twist so we are now lying on the couch, with him on top of me. We start to passionately kiss. He puts his hands on both sides of my face and pulls us together. He holds on and just kisses me all over. I do the same to him. I wrap my arms around his back to make sure he does not slide off. As I hold him tightly, I feel his unit start to expand. I gently push him off me. He looks at me and says, “I thought we were in a good place just now.” “Oh, we were, and will be again. I just need to get a glass of water.” I lift him off my body and put him back on the sofa. I retrieve my phone and stop the recording. As I head to the kitchen, I text Ty and write ‘Now’. I get a couple glasses of water and head back to the living room. As I sit next to him again, he entwines his right arm with my left one. He looks at me and asks, “Do you want to put the rings on?” I nod. He grabs the box, pulls the rings out and slips his on. It fits perfectly. He pulls out mine and I put my hand out. He slips it on. Again, a perfect fit. I lean over and kiss him. I feel his right arm reach for my leg. I know where this is headed and need to cool his jets, and mine, or there will be a lot of explaining to do in a few minutes. I reach for his phone and say, “You need to take some photos for your mom and dad. I’m sure they’ll be excited. And what about Gran. We need to send her a photo too.” He shushes it off and says, “They can wait. This is our time to celebrate.” His hand becomes friskier. Gratefully there is a knock at the door. Max angerly says, “Who in the world is that on Christmas morning at ten o’clock? I have half a mind to tell them where they can go.” He says the last part a bit too loudly as he gets up from the sofa and heads to the door. He swings the door open and standing there are his parents and brothers. Next to them is Gran. Behind them are all our friends. His mouth falls open. Gran, ever the quick one says, “Well Max, where can we go?” He quickly turns to me and I just smile back to him. He turns back to the crowd and sheepishly grins. His youngest brother, Shae asks, “Can we come in, it’s kind of cold out here.” Max steps to the side and the gang piles in. He wades through the crowd and comes up to me. He narrows his eyes, he pokes me in the chest, and says, “We’re going to have words later mister.” I come back at him and sarcastically say, “Oh, there’ll be plenty of time for ‘words later’.” I air quote his phrase, “but right now is your time to be happy and show your family and your friends your ring, sexy man.” I lean down and kiss his nose. He looks me in the eyes, tears forming in his, and says, “I love you Muscles.” “And I love you too, Curly.” We kiss again and turn to face the crowd.

I Conocí a Ramón en una aplicación de citas. Ni bien lo vi me pareció un pibe lindo. Dieciocho años, flaquito y no muy alto. Un metro sesenta, según su perfil. Cuando llegó a casa la primer noche que lo invité me di cuenta de que había mentido, medía un metro cincuenta y cinco como mucho. Yo no solo tenía más del doble de edad que él (yo acababa de cumplir cuarenta), sino que casi le sacaba dos cabezas. Ramón era un pibe tranquilo, hacía algunos años que se había dado cuenta de que le gustaban los hombres y desde entonces había tenido algunas experiencias, pero nada demasiado raro. Cuando lo conocí, él tenía ganas de ponerse de novio y nadie mejor que un hombre con mas experiencia que él y que además de sacarle dos cabezas se podía considerar algo musculoso. No me mal interpreten, solo iba al gimnasio dos o tres veces por semana y como siempre me cuidé con las comidas, puedo decir que siempre estuve en forma. Pero es verdad que comparado con él se podía decir que yo era un hombre bastante grande. Por aquel entonces le sacaba como veinte kilos, y digo por aquel entonces porque las cosas después de un tiempo empezaron a cambiar. Esa misma noche descubrí su principal atributo: su culo. Pese a que era flaquito lo tenía redondo y bien formado, una cosa perfecta. Ni bien le saqué la ropa (prácticamente lo violé), pude ver su culo frente a mí. Durante los meses que salimos antes de que se mudara a vivir conmigo me lo cogí sin descanso. Era tan liviano que lo podía levantar y garchármelo contra la pared. Me calentaba la sensación de que podía hacer con él lo que quisiera. Le metía las dedos en el culo, me ponía algo de lubricante y lo cogía hasta que no podía más. Cuando se vino a vivir conmigo yo todavía disfrutaba de cogérmelo cuándo quisiera. Y dado que mi pija era cuatro veces más grande que la suya, no había discusión de quién se cogía a quién. Ramón era un pasivo al que le gustaba que le rompieran el orto. Después las cosas empezaron a cambiar. Lo primero fue su culo.Tardé en darme cuenta, pero hubo un momento en que ya no se podía ocultar. Le estaba creciendo el culo. Él también tardó en darse cuenta, pero la ropa empezó a quedarle apretada. Los jeans apenas le cerraban y le marcaban el culo que cada vez era mas grande y que yo cada vez disfrutaba más. Cuando se acostaba en la cama se sacaba la ropita, se ponía en cuatro y me decía: —¿Te gusta lo grande que lo tengo? Se pasaba una mano por ese culo hermoso que yo agarraba con mis manos y después lo alzaba para partirlo al medio. Era la gloria, un putito con un culo de oro todo para mí. Eso creo que duró un mes, su culo parecía que iba a explotar. Después la cosa empezó a cambiar de color. Desde su hermoso y enorme culo se fue irradiando al resto de su cuerpo una suerte de calor. Ramón transpiraba mucho. Por un momento nos preocupamos, pero la verdad era que se sentía bien y estaba caliente todo el tiempo. No había día que no viniera a franelearme el culo ese hermoso que tenía para que yo lo alzara y le mostrara lo dura que tenía la pija. —¿Te gusta que te la meta hasta el fondo, putito? —le preguntaba mientras lo iba penetrando. —Que dura que la tenés... —me decía con los ojos cerrados y la boca abierta. Después del calor empezó a pasar que el resto de su cuerpo se empezó a inflar. Lo primero que noté fueron sus piernas. Sus muslos crecieron para dejar de ser esas patas de pollo por las que yo siempre lo cargaba. Unos muslos grandes y bien formados empezaron a crecer debajo de ese culo maravilloso que tenía. Y no me entiendan mal, esas piernas no tenían nada de grasa: se llenaron de músculos. Unos músculos enormes, duros y marcados. Parecía esos ciclistas que tienen unas piernas caballos y un cuerpo de escoba. Le crecieron unos muslos musculosos. Le pregunté si estaba haciendo algún deporte a lo que me dijo: —El único deporte que hago es cuando me montás, papi. Ahí mismo le sacaba la ropa y lo violaba de nuevo. No tardé en darme cuenta de que sus piernas musculosas le agregaron varios kilos a su cuerpo. Se llenaron de pelos y se volvieron cada vez más grandes, mucho mas grande que mis piernas. Parecían esas piernas de los jugadores de rugby, enormes, duras y peludas. Eso sí, su pijita seguía siendo diminuta. Pero cada noche que me pedía que me lo cogiera yo primero disfrutaba de sus piernas, las besaba, las tocaba y las apretaba. Eran unas piernas impresionantes. —¿Te gustan mis piernas musculosas? Apretalas, mirá lo fuerte que están —me decía él antes de que lo violase. Después empezó a pasar que su panza se llenó de abdominales. Primero fueron solo cuatro, pero no tardaron en volverse seis y luego ocho. Antes de apretar sus inmensos muslos musculosos (y fuertes) disfrutaba lamiendo sus abdominales. Después llegó el turno de su pecho y ahí la cosa fue otra. Su espalda se ensanchó en una semana, fue como si de pronto le salieran alas. Las remeras le dejaron de entrar y entonces su pecho comenzó a inflarse. Cada mañana era un poco más grande que el dia anterior. Yo me despertaba primero y podía ver que sus piernas estaban más gruesas y marcadas, llenas de músculos, su culo enorme, perfecto, redondo y duro, sus abdominales todos tallados, su espalda cada vez más ancha y unos pectorales que no tardaron en ser mas grandes que los mios. Entonces comenzaron a inflarse sus brazos. Fue algo impresionante, en una semana se había vuelto uno de esos adolescentes cubiertos de músculos brillantes y perfectos. Tenía un aspecto fuerte y suave a la vez. Le salieron unos hombros redondos y perfectos y unos bíceps y tríceps gigantes. Mucho mas grandes que los míos. Todavía seguía midiendo apenas un metro cincuenta y cinco, pero ya era mucho más musculoso que yo. Por ese entonces me di cuenta de que no solo era más musculoso, sino mucho más fuerte. Desde siempre, antes de que me lo cogiera habíamos jugado a pelear. Era un juego porque yo por aquel entonces era muchísimo mas fuerte que él. Con una mano podía apretarlo contra la cama mientras lo penetraba y le mostraba quién era el hombre de los dos. Pero cuando su cuerpo se infló todo la cosa se volvió otra. Yo me daba cuenta de que se estaba dejando ganar, pero que no estaba peleando realmente. Hasta que un día, cuando lo tenía acostado boca abajo y yo estaba arriba a punto de penetrarlo, le dije: —¿Qué pasa, putito, todos esos músculos son solo de adorno? Ni bien le dije eso sentí como su cuerpo se tensaba todo y sus músculos adquirían otra densidad. Se empujó de la cama sin esfuerzo conmigo arriba y aunque yo lo intenté detener ni siquiera logré frenarlo. Con un movimiento rápido se dio vuelta y yo sentí como mi cuerpo se levantaba. Me alzó como si fuera un bebe. Podía sentir sus músculos gigantes sosteniéndome. Yo todavía le sacaba dos cabezas, pero él ya era mucho mas fuerte que yo. —¿Querés que te muestre quien es mas fuerte, viejo puto? —me preguntó y empezó a levantarme sobre su cabeza. Yo parecía no pesarle nada, me subía y bajaba sin problema. Incluso conmigo arriba se acercó al espejo de pie y pude ver lo que pasaba. Su cuerpito se había vuelto una montaña enana de músculos. Parecía un fisiculturista en miniatura. —Ja, mirá lo fuerte que soy, putito. ¿Qué pasa? ¿Sorprendido del tamaño de mis músculos? Ja, estoy enorme. Mirá el pecho que tengo. Mira mis tubos, estoy re fuerte. Hizo como cien y me dejó en el piso. Delante mio flexionó sus dos brazos y dijo: —Sacate las ganas, viejo puto. Adoré su cuerpo como si fuera de oro y después se dio vuelta para que lo cogiera. Su culo era el culo más grande, duro y musculoso que hubiera visto. Ramón se había vuelto un adolescente todo musculoso, duro y marcado. Tuvimos que comprarle ropa xxl que le quedaba larga, pero le apretaba en el pecho inmenso y duro que tenía. Cada mañana que me despertaba no podía creer al hombre que tenía a mi lado. Su cuerpo estaba todo duro y marcado, parecía tallado en piedra. A veces flexionaba un brazo y me decía: —Apretá, viejito. Yo hacía toda la fuerza que podía sin siquiera lograr hundir un dedo. —Parece que soy demasiado fuerte. En esa época sucedieron dos cosas. Primero empezó a ir al gimnasio. Cuando llegaba a casa se sacaba la ropa y yo no podía evitar lanzarme sobre él para tocar todos sus músculos duros y aumentados. Era algo impresionante. —Mirá lo duro que me puse hoy, viejo puto —me decía—. ¿Te gusta mi cuerpo musculoso? Mirá el tamaño de mi pecho. Y segundo su pija empezó a crecer. Me di cuenta porque mientras me lo cogía podía ver su pija parada cada vez más grande. En un mes su cuerpo adquirió un tamaño y una dureza descomunal. Su espalda era tan grande que no pasaba por las puertas, sus brazos eran del tamaño de mi piernas y su pija creció tanto que se volvió el doble de gruesa que la mia y el doble de larga. —¿Te gusta mi poronga aumentada, viejito? Mirá lo grande que me puse para vos. Sacate las ganas con este cuerpo de macho. Yo me volvía loco, su cuerpo estaba todo duro y su pija se había vuelto un cañón entre sus piernas musculosas. Siempre que Ramón quería coger yo no tenía alternativa. Con solo sacarse la remera y mostrarme el tamaño de sus músculos o bajarse el pantalón para mostrarme su culo enorme y sus piernas todas llenas de músculos peludos ya lograba que a mí se me parara. Eso pasaba siempre que llegaba del gimnasio. Se sacaba la ropa ni bien cerraba la puerta y para cuando llegaba a la cocina donde estaba yo, él ya tenía su enorme pija parada, sus músculos todos aumentados y se agarraba la pija con una mano mientras con la otra se tocaba el cuerpo y decía: —Mirá el macho que te vas a coger hoy. Un fin de semana de esos sucedió que Ramón se despertó tan caliente que no importó cuánto lo cogiera, ni bien yo acababa él se ponía a flexionar su brazos frente al espejo o se ponía a hacer flexiones de brazos para inflarse el pecho y al terminar se paraba junto a la cama todo duro y musculoso, cubierto de leche y me decía: —Dale, viejo puto, ¿qué pasa? ¿estás cansado? Mirá el macho en que me convertí, sacate las ganas, tocame todo. Lo hicimos once veces seguidas y yo me desmayé. Dormí todo el día entero hasta el siguiente. Cuando me desperté estaba solo en el cuarto. Tenía hambre y sentía que me habían exprimido hasta la ultima gota de semen. Salí del cuarto y escuché la ducha. Abrí la puerta del baño y entré. Cuando corrí la cortina me quedé duro. Ramón se había inflado todavía más y no solo eso: había crecido hasta sacarme una cabeza. —Ey, ¿qué hacés, viejito? ¿Sorprendido? —dijo y flexionó todo su cuerpo inmenso—. Al final pegué el estirón. O quizás fue de tanto que me cogiste que me hiciste crecer. Mirá lo grande que estoy. Ja, estoy enorme. Salió desnudo de la bañera todo mojado y se acercó hasta apretarme contra la puerta. Su pija se había vuelto mucho mas grande, era cuatro veces el tamaño de mi pija. Larga y ancha, mas ancha que mi brazo me apretaba el pecho con fuerza. Su pecho había crecido hasta volverse dos almohadas de piedra gigante que sobresalían como tetas. Sus hombros eran mas grandes que mi cabeza, su espalda era tan ancha como mi cama y sus piernas eran tan grandes que cada una era mas grande que las dos mias juntas. Su culo era de otra dimensión. —¿Qué te parece, putito? —dijo y flexionó un brazo frente a mi cara—. Parece que estoy un poco más grande. ¿Qué decis? ¿Te gusta el lomo que tengo? Mirá lo grande que estoy. Soy una bestia. Mirate la pija esta que tengo ahí. Me volví un semental. ¿Por qué no me la chupás un poco? Me agarró la cabeza con una mano y me apretó contra su pija gigante. Abrí la boca pero era tan grande que no podía tragarla. —¿Qué pasa, viejito? Ja ¿Me volví demasiado grande para vos? Mirá lo duro que estoy, todo musculoso y fuerte. Tocame el pecho con tus manitos, sentí lo fuerte que soy. Si, así, tócame todo, sacate las ganas. Mirá el hombre que tenés enfrente. Estoy hecho un toro. No sabés la fuerza que tengo, me volví un semental. Y ni bien dijo eso acabé de nuevo lo que me quedaba en mis huevos ya exprimidos de la noche anterior de haber cogido hasta el desmayo ese musculoso culo de Ramón.

Still building the story up. Sorry for the lack of growth. But it's coming. This may go in a totally different direction from what you're expecting, but there WILL be growth. Please let me know what you think! Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 _____________________________________________ "Aw god" I breathlessly seethed, my chest heaving up and down. I glanced at my hard throbbing cock as my hand stroked it, and it looked angry. Red, swollen, veiny, and harder than steel. I was lovingly squeezing and stroking slowly, my hand reaching my glans then back down to the base, then back up. The sensations my cock was sending through my body were more intense than I'd ever felt before. I didn't know if I was going through some sort of super-horny phase all of a sudden or if this was simply a result of... him. Jolias. Even thinking his name made me quiver, and once again, "Unngh fuck," I muttered as I lay in bed with nothing on but the moonlight streaming through the blinds, my hand squeezing my dick at the glans, sending those jolts of pressurized pleasure throughout my existence. There was no need for me to furiously beat my meat. I was shuddering and moaning in delight just from a slight touch. Just thinking about Jolias. I was trying so hard to imagine what he must really look like under those clothes. It was the worst time of year for gay dudes like me. All these hot guys out there and they're all covered up. But I wanted so hard to believe that Jolias had that tight sexy toned muscular body. The type that clearly looks like it worked out, even though his muscles weren't huge or anything. "Fuuuck," I groaned. Thinking about his body was making me quiver more. 'What if he was huge?' I thought to myself. I imagined what it'd look like if his pecs were pushing out of that shirt he was wearing, and abs were pressing against his shirt revealing outlines of each brick. No modesty, a dude who was proud of how big he'd grown, showing off without showing off. Maybe I could turn my space heater on and make it really hot in here so if he came over to chill he'd be forced to remove his hoodie... and I imagined watching him remove it, slowly undressing, seeing his limbs slide out from the sleeves revealing arms that were toned, defined, and just plain big. Vascular and strong. And he'd be wearing a black wife-beater, hugging the contours of the rest of his taut, muscled body. "Oh fuck," I breathlessly exclaimed, my cock jolting within my hand, making me squirm. "Like what you see?" he'd ask in my little new porno fantasy, smirking, his red eyes glinting. He caught me staring. But I wanted him to. He turns more towards me, takes a step forward, closing the gap between us. His pecs are pushing that wife-beater out, the valley between them obvious from the small garment covering so little. "How 'bout now?" he'd ask, flashing a seething hot smile, raising his arms and flexing them, making my mouth water. "Ah ahhhgod," I shudder, the pressure from my cock reaching its limit. I yank my hand away from my cock as it spasmed a bit, and I was a mere millisecond from shooting a giant load. I watched as pre dribbled from the tip, almost like it was showing me its dissatisfaction with my refusal to cum. Back to my fantasy, Jolias holds his arms up, raising and lowering them, pumping his arms and flexing hard. Veins are covering his forearms and his biceps are so big I feel like they're as big as my head. I realized my hand was back on my throbbing cock, and I couldn't remember putting it there. But fuck, I needed to cum. "I guess from the drool on your lip you do like what you see," Fantasy Jolias says, not winking but closing one eye for several seconds, sticking out that tongue of his in that impish way he did at Denny's. I blushed and looked away. 'Goddamnit even in my own fantasy I'm shy and unsure of myself' I think to myself. But then Fantasy Jolias steps forward and reaches out, grasping my upper arms right below the shoulders and lifts me up almost a whole foot into the air even though he's shorter than me. I watch his biceps bulge, a vein running over each of them, and I can see the striations in his shoulders. My eyes are wide and I look into his face and see nothing but a cocky grin, and he knows he's got all the power in the world over me. And then he slowly lowers me, showing his strength and endurance. He brings my face to his, and suddenly his lips are on mine. And they're soft and delicious. "Oh fuck fuck ohhh god," my hard cock is spasming and I wasn't even moving my hand. I squeezed my cock and knew I was already past the point of no return and reveled in the explosion about to occur. "FUCK!" I exclaimed feeling that unbearable pressure finally letting itself loose, and the cum that was launching from my balls into my cock shaft was hot and moved fast. The first shot was hard and intense and flew so high into the air I thought it would hit the ceiling. And then another one exploded from my tip, just as high as the last. I felt the cum raining down on me, hitting my chest, my stomach, my neck, and even my face. "God, oh god," I breathed as another volley exploded out, raining more cum upon me. "Enngghh" I groaned as two more shots came, still powerful and hard and hot. Finally, the next one was less intense, but still flew into the air, and then another shot, and then it died off and became a dribble of cum oozing from the tip and onto my hand. "Oh holy fuck," I whispered to myself as I lay there with cum drying on my body, chilling me. My chest was rising up and down as I caught my breath. My hand was still gripping my dick as it deflated, but I felt triumphant for finally releasing what had been building since around 6pm. And then I realized that once again my own fantasy didn't progress any further than what's basically foreplay. I so wanted to actually fantasize the sex part. Well, fuck, if I'm going to wish for things I might as well wish to actually have sex with him. In real life. I sighed at the thought. I cleaned myself up and actually went to bed, realizing I'd probably be super tired the entire next day. But it was worth it to finally shoot that massive load. *** I couldn't do it. I mean, I could do it, of course, but I kept holding the Denny's receipt in my hand with his number on it, constantly looking at it, marveling at something so insignificant as his handwriting. I just couldn't bring myself to do it, though. Text him. I hadn't even bothered to enter his number into my phone. And I think, on some level, I was afraid I'd text him and get no response. I'm sure a psychiatrist would have a field day with me. I could acknowledge it would be foolish of him to ignore me, since we share a class, and he'd have to face me eventually, but I've faced rejection before. There's no shame, at least on the part of the rejecter. I could text him, get no response, and when next I see him he could totally play it off like he never got my message or that his phone was dead or maybe he changed his number or... who knows? Or, he'd become cold and ignore me entirely. At least if I don't text him I could hold onto hope that we could become friends... or maybe more. Sometimes it's the not knowing that's preferable. But then I looked back at the little scrap of thermal paper with his cute but manly handwriting. 'Why put on this big show and go as far as sneaking his number into my pocket only to reject me?' I wondered to myself. I flicked the paper between my fingers, totally ignoring the fact that there was a professor giving a lecture and I should have been taking notes. I considered taking my phone out and texting him right now, but that would be conspicuous right in the middle of a class. So continued to sit there, ignoring the lecture, contemplating which path to take on the matter. Do I text him or be a little bitch and miss out on this opportunity? And it then occurred to me that maybe he really did want me to text him. And he might be waiting and waiting to see a text from me and disappointed that I haven't done it yet. My mind flashed an image of a disappointed Jolias, and it made my heart hurt. So immediately my mind switched to a new mode. An eager and anxious and antsy mode where all I could do was sit and squirm and impatiently wait for the class to end, still not even bothering to take notes because all I could think about was Jolias. What little I had written on my notebook was literally just his name. And not just his name, but his name in my own handwriting, and several times I attempted to copy his handwriting. And then, the only way I knew class was even over was because I saw everyone else getting up. I'm probably going to regret not paying attention at all. But I didn't even wait any longer, I jumped up, throwing my shit into my satchel and putting my coat on. I took out my cellphone and began moving out of the room to escape to the solitude of the library to wait for the next class. I had a little bit of time between these classes but not enough to go to my dorm. I crossed the threshold of the classroom door and looked down at my phone, ignoring whatever few notifications I had on the screen and immediately entered the phone function so I could add his number officially to my contacts. I put his name in and it even crossed my mind to add other little icons next to his name, but... I decided not to. It seemed lame. And a bit too soon. And now, with his name officially in my contacts, I opened the messenger app and typed in his name and it popped right up. "Jolias" it said on the screen in the "To:" field. ...And I got stuck. What do I even say? It's been too long for me to be casual about it. But knowing that, how do I reconcile it? What do I do to smooth over the fact I waited almost twelve hours to text him? But... wait a minute. We aren't dating. He hasn't even exactly shown interest in dating me. So why treat it like we are? We've barely breached the threshold of friendship. So... On autopilot as I walked my way out of the main classroom building, I finally managed to input text into the body of the message. "Hey it's Mike" and I hit send. And then immediately after that: "How's your day so far?" and send. And then like the impatient and anxious person that I am, I stared at the screen waiting for the little bubble with the dots to pop up, somehow believing he'd be ready to respond right away. But nothing happened. I continued making my way to the library building, staring at my phone and only glancing up long enough to make sure I wasn't going to run into anyone or anything. And I suddenly caught something in my vision. Somehow I managed to catch it. A small, brief glimpse. Still with phone in hand, my attention was suddenly on something else. A dude with dark hair and dark complexion up ahead heading in another direction. Weirdly enough, the campus gym was close to the library building. I could see the library and its main entrance, and this person was heading in the direction of the gym entrance. 'Fuck fuck fuck!' I thought to myself. I mean, I wanted to see him, but at the same time, I didn't. I'd rather stick to the worrying over texting for now. I couldn't see his face, so I was uncertain if it was even Jolias. He rounded the corner and out of sight. But if it was him, I guess it's quite a good sign to see him going to the gym. But then I looked down at my phone. Still no new message. No bubbles. Nothing. I sighed. I considered, as I was passing the gym, to go and see if it was him that entered. But then it'd be awkward and weird, just walking into the gym and looking around then exiting. And then I thought 'Fuck it' and hurriedly walked over to the gym doors and peered through the little window. I could see several other students milling about, some in workout clothes, others in regular attire. But I couldn't see him. But that meant nothing because I wasn't seeing the dude I saw walk in. I started to turn to walk away but looked through the window again. I had to at least take one moment to appreciate the hot dudes showing off their nice bodies with the revealing gym attires. Some women would get in the way, though. And then I had enough and turned again to walk away, only to immediately bump right into another person who was trying to get into the gym. "S-sorry," I stuttered out, before looking up and seeing him. "'S'okay, dude," he said, smiling that smile. "J-Jolias!" I stuttered again, wanting to recede into nothing as I realized the dude who hadn't yet texted me back was standing right in front of me. "Why you so stressed, dude?" he asked, play-punching my shoulder. I guess I didn't appear as relaxed as I thought I did. Although I hadn't been thinking about how relaxed I appeared, period. I shrugged. "I dunno," I said, trying to come off as aloof. And then, "I'm sorry I only just texted you like, ten minutes ago." He smiled again, and almost nervously replied, "I was getting worried you wouldn't text me at all," he stated. There was the slightest tremble in his voice as he said those words. "So you did get my text..." I muttered, probably saying out loud what I should have kept in my head. "Yeah, dude, and didn't you see what I said back?" 'What?' I thought to myself. 'No dude I didn't because you didn't text me ba--' I stopped my own thought as I looked at my phone and saw there was, in fact, a new message. From Jolias. "Sup dude so glad to hear from you im geting out of class now headed to the gym wanna come?" "Oh. Huh. I guess I didn't hear my phone go off..." I muttered, seriously wondering how I missed it. "So, wait, you were coming here anyway? I figured you were here to meet me since I asked if you wanted to come!" he said excitedly, smiling. And now I felt really awkward because I was really only here to be a creep and stalk him. And it wasn't even him I was stalking. Bonus points that he was going to the gym, though! "I, uh, yeah, I was just... trying to meet you here," clearly a lie. He cocked his head, raising an eyebrow. "Didn't you just say you didn't know I text you back?" Fuck. "Umm..." and then I just acquiesced, having lost all energy to try to maintain any façade. "Okay, please don't think I'm, y'know, a creep, but I thought I saw you go in here--" I gestured at the building, "--and I was trying to see if it really was you." "Ohhh shit," he said grinning, "That's not creepy, that's just a dude trying to see his friend!" I exhaled a deep breath I didn't know I'd taken. "Ah, yeah, that's... actually a good way to see it," I said, smiling, more relieved than anything else. Jolias pulled out his phone and glanced at it and then put it right back in his pocket. "Well, it's already past 11, wanna join me?" he asked, a hopeful grin on his face. "Fuck," I muttered, looking at my own phone to confirm the time. "Nah, I can't, I got class in less than ten minutes. Another time?" "Fuck yeah, dude, we should figure out what our schedules look like so we know when we're both free during the day," he said, thrusting his chin at me, a somewhat cocky grin on his face. "Text me, alright?" he said, just like last night. He then play-punched my shoulder again and brushed past me to enter through the gym doors. "Later, dude!" he called as the doors closed. His total joviality is something from which I ought to be taking a lesson. He's so relaxed about things. And I'm sincerely getting the impression that I'm way overthinking everything. So, I took my phone, which was still in my hand, and unlocked it, opened the messenger, and texted him. Nothing major. Kind of lame. But, it was something. " enjoy the pump!" And this time, in mere seconds the bubble popped up. And then: "hell ya dude lets try n get lunch together". My heart jumped, and I was dangerously low on time for class but 'fuck it, I'll be late' I thought to myself. I responded: " I'll let ya kno when im done class ".

Hello! I wanted to create a story that started where a lot of others leave off. Hope you enjoy. ============================================== "Keep your voices down. We're here. Intelligence doesn't know where this island came from or if there are titans here. Stay on your guard." Captain Levi Ackermann was the first off their vessel, alighting on the ruddy shore and eyeing their surroundings with intense suspicion. After him came Sasha Braus, smacking her lips as she nervously downed a hunk of biscuit. "I said shut up." Captain Levi cast her a cold glance and she popped the rest of the bread in her mouth. "Mmhm yeshir," she mumbled. The next off the boat was Eren Jaeger, bewildered eyes frowning at the uncanny landscape, and beside him was Armin Arlelt, the smartest of the group. Finally, Mikasa Ackermann followed up the rear, hands on her twin blades, ready for everything. Her body was a rope pulled taut. They were older now, these veteran members of the Scouting Regiment. A lot of time had passed since the Colossal Titan had first kicked in the wall but through many adventures, they'd stuck together. Together, they were a well-oiled machine. They'd killed many titans before, seemingly an unstoppable force. Of course they'd be chosen to investigate the mysterious island. "What kind of place is this?" Eren muttered. They took in the rounded island rising out of the murky, misty sea. It was hard to identify anything in the overcast gray of the hour. They couldn't make out where the shore bended on either side, but they had been told the island was estimated at a few kilometers long. Oddly, it's length was about the same as its width. Approximately, at least. "There are no trees," Armin whispered. "I can't see anything." "I hate it," Eren replied, "We could be ambushed. There's hiding places everywhere." "And look at this." Mikasa stepped in front of the group and swiped her foot across the ground. A light layer of sand and dirt and dust parted, baring a compacted earth the likes of which none of them had seen before. It looked perfectly solid and not at all porous, like some kind of solid golden-brown marble. A tight set of parallel grooves ran through the ground toward the interior of the island. "It's hard." Mikasa stamped her foot and got nothing but an ache in her bones. "Like metal." "Whoa! Very hard!" Sasha bent at the waist and poked at the ground, unable to even make the smallest dent in the banded, stone-like layer. The Captain reminded them: "It doesn't matter what it is. You have a job to do, I suggest you do it. We'll split into two camps." He pointed at each of them. "Mikasa. Eren. You take the shoreline south. Sasha, Armin, and myself will follow it north. We'll rendezvous on the other side of the island. Do not explore the interior of the island unless absolutely necessary. There could be lesser titans hiding in caves. Take turns keeping watch." His green cape waved as he turned and began his march up the shore. Sasha and Armin had no choice but to follow. Armin glanced back and waved at Eren. When Eren turned around, his adoptive sister was already headed down the shore. "You coming?" Mikasa said to Eren when he caught up with her. "Like you'd just leave me behind," he retorted. "...What do you think that smell is?" "I don't know. It's not unpleasant, but it is unusual." Eren looked behind them, the boat was already almost gone in the mist where they'd left it. If it even was a mist. It felt thicker than a mist or ocean spray, than even a regular fog, and it smelled sweet with just a hint of sourness to it. Not so much that something had gone stale but that something had remained here for a long time. Eren inhaled deeply and let out a long, slow breath. "What, you like it?" Mikasa looked at him. "I don't know," Eren responded, "It kind of makes me..." "...hungry," Sasha complained under her breath, "sooo hungry. Why am I so hungry?" Besides for her bellyaching, she and Armin and Levi marched on in relative silence, keeping up a good pace. The Captain had reminded them that there was a lot of ground to cover. Armin kept glancing back over his shoulder. Eren and Mikasa were long gone. Nothing but that oppressing fog. "What is it, Armin?" Levi said. "Nothing, Captain." A pregnant pause. "Ok it's just, I'm a little confused about what I'm supposed to be doing right now. If Intelligence needed somebody to go for a hike, then any able-bodied scout would do. I was told to secure specimens of local flora and fauna for study." "And?" "And look around. We haven't sighted a single tree. That in itself isn't wholly remarkable," Armin said, "but then, I haven't seen a single fern or blade of grass, either. There's no vegetation anywhere, just this layer of sand and dust over everything, and whatever that is underneath." "There's no fauna, either," Levi agreed. "Exactly. No vegetation means nothing to eat. There are no mammals or reptiles here. I'm willing to bet even the water around here has no fish. Have you seen a single bird, any seagulls at all since we landed? I haven't." Armin pressed his lips together as a huge dark cliff jutted out ahead into their path. It was a gigantic imposing shadow, not unlike a titan itself, buried at a bizarre angle in the ground, covered in deep cuts and rifts--where wind and rain eroded the surface? Armin wondered. He went on, "There's nothing here. Not a single mouse or bird making their nest, not a single leaf or vine... It's like nothing can live on this island, like..." he shuddered, clutching his cloak tight around his chest, "...like the whole place is dead." "Heeeeeeey!" Sasha's voice rang loudly through the air, even though she wasn't that far away, "I got your vine right here!" Levi rushed to her side and began reprimanding her about her volume, until he stopped short. Armin rushed up puffing behind him. None of them spoke a word after that. There, at the base of the gigantic cliff, grew some kind of vine, or something that oddly resembled a vine. It pierced out of the sandy earth, bending at cruel, excruciating angles as it crawled up the surface of the precipice. It hugged the stone, it seemed almost fused to it. The "vine" threw its tendrils or branches out in a jagged, random nonsense-pattern like the broken legs of a centipede. A very, very big centipede. At its widest point, it was wider around than the three of them standing together. They could walk side by side inside of it, if they could get inside. "What is it...?" Levi hissed, pressed his hand against the organic thing splayed out on stone before him. It wasn't soft but it wasn't as hard as the ground, either. Then he said decisively: "It's alive." "What?!" Armin and Sasha both gasped. "See for yourself," Levi answered. He retracted his hand and looked at it. It wasn't dirty or slimy. Sasha touched it next, then Armin, hesitantly. They could both feel it. Under the membranous surface of their "vine", it felt like there was something rushing, flowing. "Is it water?" Sasha mused. Armin thought of something much worse. "This island is cursed..." Then they felt it. The ground beneath them began to shift, almost like it was made of separate plates, like they were giants standing over the plates that moved the continents. A sound like a thunderstorm roared louder and louder underground, followed by a noise like steel grinding against steel, followed by a dull groaning noise that seemed to come from everywhere. The cliff above them shifted to the rocky, mountainous chorus. "Look out!" Levi led them down the slope and up the shoreline, racing behind them to ensure they kept up their speed. They stopped a short ways up ahead where a space cleared. Behind them, the cliff wobbled and seemed to stick out further over the ocean, but it didn't fall. Its strange movement carried along by the sudden earthquake, which had since diminished, seemed to cut through the intense fog. Armin peered up to the top of the cliff where it met another cliff and still another, and upward and upward until the side of the mountain disappeared in the clouds. Armin took in the vista, the sharp valleys cut deep into the rock, like a titan had carved them with massive hands. He scowled at the prospect of an island crawling with titans bearing huge claws and teeth that could tear open whole mountainsides. Sasha's stomach growled painfully. She doubled over and sunk to her knees, wrapping her arms around her waist. "Ugh... why am I getting so..." "...hot?" Eren took off his green cape and brown jacket. "Aren't you getting hot?" "Yes." Mikasa replied. "Just don't go in the water." She was standing at the water's edge, still as a statue, peering down into water that turned deep blue and then black almost immediately. There were almost no waves, no sandbank or anything. Somebody could get pushed under the island by an undertow, into an underwater fissure. Mikasa winced at the morbid thought. "I didn't plan on it," Eren said, then: "Look, there it is again!" He and Mikasa turned their faces inland. A hissing geyser of pent up pressure erupted into a cloud of steam from a deep rent in the earth. They didn't have to say it; the blast put them both in mind of titans. "They must be down there," Eren muttered, feeling his blood boil at the thought of them. "There must be some kind of underground lair." "Or..." Mikasa left the water and came up beside him, "it could be volcanic." Her brother sniffed the air. "I don't smell sulfur. But that odor is stronger now." "You felt that tremor earlier?" Mikasa insisted. "If the island is violently active, that could explain the lack of any life. This stuff might be volcanic ash for all we know." She kicked the dirt again. It went up around her feet in a puff of fine particles. Almost in response, another blast of hot steam issued from the ground to the sound of rocks splitting in two. A deep gurgling noise followed, like a huge aquifer shifting just under the earth. "I hate this place. Let's go." Mikasa turned and started walking again. Eren followed and they went on for a ways. Ahead of them in the distance, barely discernible, a long, rounded ridge stuck out from the main island, climbing to a huge beveled, tapered, narrow peak before diving again into the water. It had no shore, its sides marked with dense grooves and a huge garish rent, again pointing back to the island, even as the cliffs themselves went straight down into the water. "What could cause a rock formation like that?" Eren asked as they kept stride together. "If we knew, it might not be the mysterious island we were sent out to investigate." "Nothing in nature, I'd bet." "I guess so." "Do you think the titans realistically have anything to do with this place?" Eren grunted as he stepped up a huge plate of the same golden-brown stone bulging from the ground. "Realistically? What doesn't have to do with the titans," Mikasa intoned. "All our lives have been about them. That's why we're here." "Yeah but how long have we been doing this? You and I haven't come across anything like this place. Usually titans are on land, not stuck out here on some damned weird island. And if they are here, there's not much we could do about it. We're out in the open." Mikasa knew he was right. She scanned the horizon of the island: besides for the ridge going out over the ocean, there was no high point nearby. They had passed a few outcropping an hour or so ago, each of them like massive buttes rising almost straight out of the ground, peculiar in how they seemed organized, nearly regimental in their placement. She sighed. "There's still so much we don't really know about the titans. It's not unreasonable that we could discover a new strain of them here. If that happens... we'll need you to assume your form." "I know," Eren said, and then as he clambered over another ledge, he gasped. "Wow, come look at this!" Mikasa began climbing the natural steps, like huge wrinkles of solid steel, but then her brother yelled. "Lookout!" She leaped away just in time as a globulous white substance came flowing over the upper ledge like a flood. Standing aside, she watched it pass, holding her nose. It stank. It quickly slid over the surface of dirt like a massive bead of water, leaving a slick trail behind it, and then when it hit the water. It hissed, letting out its heat in sharp gasps of steamy agony. In moments, it was gone, leaving nothing but a thin, glistening slime trail. "Faster than a lava flow, and not quite as hot, I'd guess, if the geography books are at all accurate," Eren was saying. Mikasa came up behind him, mounting the upper ledge, glancing back at the black water, "And it didn't cool into rock. It sort of just melted into the sea." "And there's more where that came from." Mikasa turned and saw what Eren had initially called her up here for. She held her nose again. Before them, half concealed in the thick fog and billowing gouts of steam was a huge, white, viscous lake of some kind. Instead of a shore, the liquid bowled and beveled at its edges, again like a bead or droplet of water. It trembled like a pool of fat with every slight tremor and geyser nearby. "What the hell is that?" Mikasa finally managed. Eren took in a sharp breath through is nose. "I have no idea. As you were coming up, the ground shifted and a part of it dumped over the edge like a waterfall." "What are you doing?" Mikasa frowned at him. "Huh?" "...The smell!" "I don't mind it." He sniffed again. She frowned even more. "I think it's disgusting. We need to get moving and make some progress before--" The earth rippled under their feet. The rocks themselves seemed to groan aloud. The ledge under them were on bucked, throwing them into the air. Nothing they couldn't normally handle, except with the local topography, there wasn't much their harnesses could do for them. Still, they managed to jet through the air and utilize their wires in such a way to land somewhat safely--Eren fell on his shoulder and Mikasa on her hip. Neither of them appreciated just how hard the ground was, and it was still moving. The earthquake quickly dialed up its intensity. Underground there was a horrible noise like huge grinding molars. The crash of it filled their ears. The ground bucked again and again. It seemed to crack open as vines like giant writhing snakes erupted from blistering fissures, writhing over the landscape. They had to use their wires to remain safely attached to the floor. All around them, as the earth heaved, massive drops of the white liquid spattered. Mikasa's disgust was lost in the noise of the earthquake. She prayed none of it would fall on her. She should've prayed for Eren. Mikasa looked up in time to see a glob the size of a redwood fall out of the sky and cover her brother. Her first thought was that he'd be smothered, or drowned. She screamed his name but couldn't be heard. The glob hit the floor and splashed outward, leaving Eren absolutely drenched in the stuff. He looked horrified, revolted, until his expression suddenly changed. She saw his breathing quicken, grow heavier. His hair stood on end. His skin pricked with gooseflesh. His face went pale as his eyes filled with a wild lust. He crinkled his nose, taking in the scent that bombarded his senses. Mikasa wanted to puke but Eren gazed down at his body and the slime around him, looking as if he wanted to lick it up. He raised his hand and looked at the threads of sticky white ooze between his fingers. He moved it closer to his face! "Eren, no!" Mikasa deactivated her harness and ran toward him as the earthquake subsided. "Stop it! What are you doing!" He bared his teeth, turned his hand to bite down on his own flesh. "Get a hold of yourself! Stop! You're going to..." "...head inland. We have to! There it is again!" Armin put a hand over his own mouth and the three of them listened. The sound hit their ears, full of emotion, poignant, lonesome, longing, passionate. It was vaguely human. Levi's eyes seemed to follow the echoes reverberating off of the golden-brown cliffs. "It could be a titan," he said, once the sound died down. "It could be someone crying for help," Sasha admitted. Levi nodded. "You're right." He pointed up the steep, convex cliffside almost directly above them. The had walked for hours and what they thought had been an isolated cliff had turned out to be one of the jagged foothills of an immense mountain. "We go straight up the side of the mountain, head to the peak, and make a survey of the surroundings if we can. Along the way, we'll take turns pausing to scout for any sign of titans..." and he added: "or anybody needing our help. Understood?" They followed him up through the air, their harnesses whining as their bodies flipped elegantly. Ascending the mountain proved somewhat difficult: their wires couldn't pierce the extremely hard stone, so they had to pick their way a little more slowly, keen eyes sharpened for sharp grooves and rents. Still higher and higher they went until they reached the low-hanging clouds. The smell of the fog was sharper up here. Where is the damned peak? Levi's mind wandered, but just then the peak seemed to flatten out. Alongside it, chasms separated similar peaks just like it, all of them scarred by immense rents that pointed toward the island's interior. The top presented itself, a bare space of solid rock without the sand and dust of the beach far below them. Levi set down first and then Armin and Sasha behind him. They could hardly make out anything above them but a swirl of thick gray clouds. The peak itself seemed more like a plateau or mesa. Does it still go higher? Levi thought. An obelisk presented itself as a wind passed through the haze, clearing it just enough to reveal the object. It was as wide around as the turret of a castle. "What is that?" Armin asked aloud, "Some kind of natural formation? A geyser, maybe?" "Hmmm too big to be an anthill," Sasha stated, if only to mask the sound of her stomach growling. The vines crawled toward its base, or away from it, where golden-brown faded into dark brown, then red, then pink up toward the tip of the formation. "Doesn't matter," the Captain said, "Do you hear anything?" They strained their ears. The wind howled sharply against the stones in that desolate place, but behind it, they heard the voice again. It started in low and then built to a crescendo, seeming to cause the mesa under their feet to shiver. The climax of the voice cut off decisively, ending in what sounded like a whimper. "Somebody's there! They're in trouble!" Armin shouted. "Down there in that valley!" He ran and jumped into thin air, activating his harness to descend across the far end of the mesa. "Armin! Wait!" Levi yelled in pursuit, and he and Sasha descended after him. Hundreds and hundreds of meters of corrugated stone fell upward behind them. As it whipped past in immeasurable striated heaps, its constant quaking and quivering shifts disoriented them. What they thought was a beach awaiting them below by the water was just more vine-encrusted rock. They breathlessly lighted on the ground. There were more vines here than ever, bigger than ever, seeming to issue from a colossal cave, the only cave they'd seen on the entire trip. The voice moaned out of the dark pit, undeniably human. To Sasha's ears, it sounded hungry. "There could be titans. Stay close and be ready." Levi led the way, climbing the grotesque bulges of golden-brown stone. As they neared the entrance of the cave, a black orifice nearly serrated with tears and splits in the stone, the entrance pulsated. The voice moaned, louder than ever. It was a primal, guttural, wild call that seemed to issue up from the very earth itself, but with the unmistakable traits of a feminine voice... "Eren... Eren... Don't..." her voice called to him through the swampy trance. He answered. "Mikasa...? W-what happened?" any sign of anger or rage was gone from his tone, as was the hypnotic state the glob had left him in. His eyes were full of a sorrowful yearning, nearly stinging with tears. "You almost turned," Mikasa said, her tone full of concern. Eren put his hand down. "I won't. I'm fine... I promise you..." "Good. We have to keep moving. Find some higher ground before another quake like that hits. We're lucky we didn't fall into the water." "Yeah... you're right." He wanted to wash himself, the smell was still intoxicating, but she was right. They couldn't risk going into the sea. "Let's see what happened to that lake," Mikasa was climbing the ledges again, Eren just behind her. "Maybe there will be a path forward. Maybe that giant pool or whatever it was is gone." As they reached the top, the ground began to tremble again, pulling apart at the most bizarre of angles, the grooves in the earth flexing and unflexing. Their fears soon turned to terror. Where the "lake" used to be, a barren plain of undulating rock sunk down toward a canyon at their right. The ridge they'd spotted earlier formed one side of the canyon, but in the middle of it, at its head, and horrifyingly nearby, a grotesque chasm gushed forth torrents of thick white liquid, which splattered in globs and threads upon the far slopes of the ridge and poured down into the black water below where it boiled and fizzled as it mixed with the sea. Eren was running towards it. Mikasa screamed after him. He dashed like a madman, his sister falling behind, until he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. They were at the base of the chasm at the edge of the canyon. They could both hear the violent noises of spurt after spurt of ooze issuing from the gaping slash in the rock, easily big enough to fit a smaller titan. Hot steam and vapor smoked out of the chasm, which suddenly trembled and contracted, two muscular lips enclosing, raising, covered in layers of slime, unfolding like a massive city-sized flower of pink, greasy, fibrous petals. "Like the siren calling sailors to their deaths..." Sasha broke the silence of the cave and they all shuddered except for the Captain. He marched on under the crushing weight of duty, through the terror that the cave might just crush them. They had gone on a ways and it was pitch black and full of moisture, the only light a small lantern Levi had been wise enough to bring with him. They had to get down almost on their hands knees at one point, the oppressive ceiling and encroaching walls seeming to bulge down at them. The woman's voice called them onward. What could any human being experience to make such an awful cry? As the voice grew clearer, the cave suddenly opened up just a little and Levi at the front of the group froze. Sasha and Armin came up behind, peeking over his shoulders. They froze, too. "NO DON'T LEAVE ME BE I NEED IT I WANT IT IT'S MINE MINE NO I NEED MORE MORE MORE I CAN'T HAVE ENOUGH NEVER ENOUGH I NEED MORE YES YES I NEED MORE YES MORE--" the woman's voice gushed, ceaselessly. Her face toward them, her head was wedged into the rock, which bunched up with coiling vines... no, veins... around her chin. A single, long, brown, frayed and braided ponytail rolled out along the floor. Not floor. Her body. Her head hung upside-down on the wall, saliva coating her beautiful feminine mouth and face, her bared, gnashing teeth. Her eyes were wide with the tiniest pupils, insane with greed and pleasure and power as she ranted and screamed out a tremendous moan that forced them to cover their ears. That's when the worst possible suspicion came crashing down with the weight of reality. Levi stammered: "It's not an island... It's a titan!" Mikasa put her hand over her mouth, sucked in her breath and refused to breathe, even though her heart raced. Eren was hyperventilating, salivating uncontrollably. He turned around and looked at her, soaked with sweat and spit, a stark image on that immense landscape of pure, raw, impossibly shredded, inhuman muscle. His eyes were full of desire, hypnotized by powerful pheromones and scents and odors. A lust unlike anything he'd ever felt before seized up his whole body. A throbbing shape rose behind him out of the top of the guttering chasm: red hot and pink and glistening, a clitoris bigger than any tower. (end of part 1) (read more at patreon.com/pumpculture)

CW: muscle growth. Four years since she'd met Joel. Four years in isolation together. In four years, the old man had shaped her, molded her, redefined her into a survivor. Their world was harsh, she had to be harsher. Ellie struggled to catch her breath, leaning against the tiled wall, staring at her reflection in the shattered spiderweb of the restroom mirror. A survivor... The hardness of her eyes betrayed the gentle youth of her face, still the face of a young girl, although she had blossomed into a woman. The contrast couldn't be starker. All of the ugliness, death, and violence she had witnessed in her short life left stains behind her bright green irises. In two more years, she would turn twenty, but her gaze indicated a memory older than her pouting lips, rounded cheeks, light eyelashes, and cute nose appeared. And yet that wasn't Ellie's only contradiction. There was the first thing anybody noticed: her over-pumped, bloated, rugged, hideously muscular body. Joel had taken the freckled teen and turned her into a battleship of a woman. Heavy drops of her sweat dripped from the rivulets slithering between her muscles, falling and tapping on top of the sink beneath her like bullets. Her green eyes took in her impossible physique and she suddenly wondered how this had happened, how she could have transformed her pain into agony into power. Her body ached constantly. It felt almost as if her bones were being pulled apart as her once thin body continued to pack on more and more mass. When would it stop? When would the torturous workouts end? When could she stop pushing for more? Every day she told herself it was enough. Every day she relished breaking new records. Her eyes ravished the grotesque, quivering ribbons of her pecs, so hopelessly muscular that they ensured she would never have the soft luxurious breasts of a woman... and she nearly sobbed over the ugly vascularity, the rope-thick veins bunching over every inch of her barely clothed chest, her old striped shirt torn to appropriate shreds over her muscles that were in just about the same state. The worn out threads looked as if they were being forced apart by her heaving chest, so incredibly jacked that their sick vascularity shook with awful tremors with her every movement. If not for the mirror, and the gift of leaning forward, she could hardly see past those twin boulders stuck on her chest, each pectoral fighting for space with nowhere to go but outward. She had worked them so hard over the years that each pec was wider across than her shoulders were when she was younger... (access the full story and the entire library at patreon.com/pumpculture)

CW: muscle growth, breast expansion, godhood, fantasy violence. (read parts 1 and 2) "Power Girl!" Supergirl choked, eyes full of horror, "W-what happened to you?" "Shut up! I can't stand being called Power Girl! Most of all by you," the pumped up kryptonian goddess gnashed her teeth, "I am WAR!" She put her fists on her hips, flexed her lats and pecs. Huge folds of strength undulated beneath her white costume, practically painted on over all that garish, gruesome muscularity. The gold cord and buckle that secured her now tiny cape around her shoulder had begun to fray. Supergirl actually staggered back at the sight of her kinswoman, now bloated nearly beyond recognition with muscle, curved horns and metal helmet gleaming on her head. As if sensing her fear, the Goddess of War's body flexed harder, harder, blowing out a gasp of air and holding her red-faced breath as veins slithered over vascularity cut to shreds. It was inhuman. It wasn't even kryptonian. Supergirl actually thought about flying away at top speed to go for help. "How did you get like this...?" The Goddess of War exhaled, thrust a gigantic arm at the limp, nearly lifeless body of Wonder Woman at Supergirl's feet. The once proud princess of the Amazons was skeletal, sapped until gaunt. Her hair white instead of black, her skin a pale gray, she weakly regarded Supergirl standing over her, voicelessly pleading for help, while glancing back at Power Girl with envy. "Her!" War began, "She tried to keep this from me. She, like the rest of her precious league, thought she could keep the power of war for herself and continue to look down on the rest of the world from her watchtower. Well no more! I am done being looked down upon. The status quo is over." She began to flex a single bicep, watching it rise and rise. "I will become so huge... so massive... so powerful..." her bicep was tearing open the arm of her costume, splitting the seams, tearing rents that traced from its peak down to her swollen tricep, "so unstoppable that everyone will have no choice but to look up to ME." "No... stop... this isn't you," Supergirl begged, almost shaking in her red boots. War glanced at her sideways, smirked. Supergirl gasped and put a hand over her heart, the look War gave her dripped with sexual rage. "When they look up in the sky, they won't see a bird or a plane, or him..." War's blue glove creaked as her bicep pierced her sleeve with a noisy rip, bigger than a volleyball, absolutely engorged with pale blue veins like those in marble, "...when they look in the sky, they will see me. Only me. I will fill the Earth and the skies, and I won't stop there. I'll seize the power of war from this planet, and then the next, and the next," her greed caused her heart to race. She salivated at the thought. Her pussy tingled and ached with the sling of her costume pulled tight into her camel toe. A wave of pleasure and desire rocketed through her insane body, tightening all of her muscles like a spring. "...Growing bigger and stronger, bigger and stronger... FOREVER." The Goddess of War shot off the ground, flying directly toward Supergirl, who had less than a moment to react. Startled, Supergirl leapt into the air like a tiny sparrow before a giant eagle. War passed through the empty space in a streak of white and red and gold. Supergirl peered down from several miles above the ground but Power Girl was nowhere in sight, and then she felt a tug on her cape. She had no time to turn around. The Goddess of War pulled hard and threw Supergirl at blazing speeds over the continent, where her body pierced one of the peaks of a snowy mountain range. Supergirl stood up from the crater even as it began to form. Her ears stung with the searing shriek of Power Girl's body cutting through the air, hurtling toward her like a white meteor. With a fraction of a second to respond, Supergirl leapt again, blasting twin beams of burning light from her eyes. The blue heat vision hit the Goddess and she stopped, raising a hand to get the solar lasers out of her face. Then she gathered herself and hurtled toward Supergirl, who dodged again. "Kara, stop!" Supergirl screamed. She clenched her eyes, cutting off the heat vision, while also narrowly escaping the Goddess's fists my a few centimeters. She free-fell to get behind her adversary. War followed, diving faster than Supergirl could predict. Their bodies connected with a thunderclap that shattered the nearby mountainsides even as Supergirl's body penetrated the earth beneath Power Girl's accelerating bulk. Earth and ash blasted from the rent in the ground. A moment later, another chasm opened up, followed by the blast of a winter hurricane. Power Girl's immense body flung backward into the air out of the pit and Supergirl soon followed, emptying her lungs with a mighty gust of her frost breath. The Goddess of War crossed her arms in front of her body to withstand the hurricane, not unlike Wonder Woman once did with her demolished amazonian bracelets. In fact, energy began to coalesce about War's wrists. Power Girl saw it and her wince at the ice building up over her body turned into a greedy grin. "No more tricks, Supergirl," she laughed. War roared as she tightened her fists and flexed her arms, before unleashing a shockwave from her wrists. The shockwave ripped through Supergirl's frost breath and collided with her, a ringing, shrieking, dizzying cacophony, throwing her back into the earth. Power Girl was relentless, upon her again. Supergirl could hear the immense muscle fibers bunch up and tense then release, like the sound of a crack of a whip to her ears. Power Girl's fist connected with her face, driving her head down into solid granite. Power Girl hit her again before Supergirl could throw her arms up and engage her flight. This time, Supergirl drove right into her, blasting up into the stratosphere with a trail of stones and ice behind them. They were past Earth's atmosphere in mere moments, Supergirl yelling as she poured on the power. Power Girl's body was bent nearly in half, pecs and breasts filling Supergirl's vision. The Goddess of War tried to get a grip on her foe, reached for the cape, but Supergirl was already prepared, diving below her pumped up body, grabbing her ankles and diving back toward the planet in an arcing spin. Fire leapt around them as they broke back into the atmosphere, falling faster than gravity could pull them. Then Supergirl let go. Power Girl's fall cracked open the sky. Thousands of kilometers and mere seconds later, she pierced the surface of the Pacific. A torrent of boiling water erupted where she hit the sea. Supergirl pursued her across the curvature of the Earth with her biggest blast of heat vision, bellowing at the top of her lungs. "How could you make me do this, Kara?" her voice echoed through the zenith, "We were sisters! We're both kryptonian!" And then in the midst of the solar rays, a huge arm raised from the sea, blue glove and white sleeve hanging in tatters. Supergirl's telescopic vision saw that Power Girl's enraged face followed. The Goddess balled her fist and sliced the ocean, cutting through Supergirl's heat vision, connecting with its individual particles. There was a deafening explosion and a flash that turned night into day on that side of the world as the Goddess of War's punch deflected Supergirl's heat vision. No way she was ready for that. Supergirl's own heat vision collided with her like a cannonball of energy, knocking her out of the upper atmosphere, barely conscious. Power Girl was upon her in a moment, a tidal wave pursuing her flight into the air. The Goddess of War grabbed Supergirl and put her in a chokehold, scissoring her head behind her flank and bicep, the muscle on her arm bigger than Supergirl's head. The two kryptonian women fell together onto a deserted island in the tropics, shrouded in night, the sun on the other side of the planet where their battle had begun. Sand and debris burst into the air where their crater formed. Power Girl tightened her grip, beaming with pride. Supergirl tried in vain to free herself, tearing at Power Girl's arm, attempting to bend even her fist under her neck. Supergirl even got her powerful legs on the back of Power Girl's but she couldn't hope to budge her, an immovable statue of gleaming metal and ivory. Finally, she gave up. Her body went limp, and she didn't quite understand why just yet. "Kara..." her formerly feminine voice rasped, "K-Kara? Please, if there's... any way you... you can hear me... D-don't kill me... Don't kill me..." Supergirl felt the tremors of Power Girl's cruel laughter resound through her massive, muscular tank of a body. Supergirl managed to turn her head and look up at her, greeted by the sight of her bulging hip, her bare abs, revealed by rips in her costume, shredded beyond belief, the bottoms of her pecs and her humungous breasts, like the prow of a ship, obscuring the Goddess's face. Supergirl felt humiliated beside such a magnificent display of physical strength. She felt her heart sink within her, like she was less of a woman, less of a kryptonian compared to such perfection. War ceased her laughter. "I'm not going to kill you, dear cousin. You saw what I did to Wonder Woman." She tightened her grip. "I'm going to do the same thing to YOU!" She began laughing once more, a beautiful, elegant but immensely cruel sound. Supergirl's ears ached at that sound, then the ache flooded her body. The ache turned to pain which turned to suffering, sweat, nausea, shivering, fevers, icy chills. Still Power Girl held her as the smaller kryptonian's power flowed into her, forcing her already immense body to expand just to fit all that additional, superfluous life. Supergirl's eyes went wide. Her super hearing took in all the microscopic, frightening details: every thread in Power Girl's costume screaming as they snapped and split; every fiber in Power Girl's body agonizingly tearing, redoubling, tearing, growing, tearing, rebuilding; every bone in Power Girl's skeleton shattering and reforming, healing instantly, lengthening at the molecular level; every synapse in Power Girl's head firing louder and louder; every cell in Power Girl's flesh enduring a new flood of health, drinking up solar radiation from another kryptonian instead of the yellow sun; every vein expanding with gushing blood. Supergirl could hear Power Girl's heart pounding faster and harder than any heartbeat she'd ever detected before. She could hear nearly every ounce of fat Power Girl possessed sizzling out of existence except for in her face and breasts, which began to swell like beachballs being overfilled with air, accompanied by a sound not unlike latex stretching. The Goddess of War squeezed her captive tighter, as if to squeeze the last juice out of a grape. Her free hand, blue glove gone except for a torn remnant of fabric at her wrist, filled Supergirl's vision. Power Girl's fingers cupped Supergirl's face, pinched her cheek playfully and caressed the blonde tresses of her hair. "Shhh don't cry," the Goddess cooed mockingly, "All you have to do is give everything to me, all of your power." And then she moaned with utmost satisfaction, running her hands from her trembling, twitching, aching pussy--at which Supergirl gawked with a mixture of disgust, jealousy, and pure lust, despite herself--tracing her fingers over each tumefied muscle of her abs. Every muscle lining her waist throbbed and with each throb became further defined. Veins dumped blood into them as the cuts between them deepened, going from bloated to shredded and back again, becoming ever more extreme with every crunching moment. As Supergirl's keen kryptonian vision took in their perfection, she thought about using her heat vision one last time but imagined those abs could already cut diamonds. "Ohh Rao yesssss..." Power Girl groaned sensually as wave after wave of powerful growth hit her. "YES! More power than I ever DREAMED of!" Supergirl felt the chokehold getting tighter not from her cousin holding her any more violently, but merely from the force of her growing muscles. The bicep pressed tight against her head began to fill her peripheral vision. Held flat against her ear, Supergirl could hear the supernovas of strength exploding inside of it, pushing it past belief. Then came the noises of the fabric again, giving up. Power Girl's costume had finally had enough. Her sleeves burst, unleashing a torrent of muscle that looked as if it had been chiseled out of Nth metal. Beneath her, Power Girl's feet hovered over the earth at the ends of legs overcrowded with so much muscle they looked like the flanks of cows covered with a layer of creamy skin holding on for dear life. Above her, Power Girl's ludicrous chest, overinflated beachballs perched on pecs each more than a foot thick, ripped her sling-bikini style costume clear in half as if her chest were the bucket of a bulldozer ripping raw earth straight out of the ground. Now free, her magnificent gravity-defying mammaries bounced irresistibly, perfectly round, the final bits of white fabric hanging over their tops. Her growth had rendered her costume--made for a much smaller, much slimmer, far less busty superheroine--into a cut off top, bearing her artisan midriff and utopian underboobs. Supergirl would've swooned if she wasn't already fainting. "You have no idea how this feels, do you?" the Goddess of War said between heavy, satisfied breaths, "You have no clue what true power is like. Neither of us did, just a few hours ago. Or maybe... now you know what it feels like?" Power Girl reached down and grabbed Supergirl's head like a football, pressing her face against her abs. Supergirl had no strength left to fight back, scraping her cheek against skin that felt like a coating of perfumed velvet over tungsten. "Can you feel that?" the Goddess chuckled, "Is there enough feeling left in your dried up ass to appreciate what is happening to me? You have the privilege of witnessing the birth of a new god, up close and personal! Can you even begin to grasp in your rapidly draining brain what I'm turning into, a kryptonian queen married to the god of war combined with the strength of the amazons and Olympus in one being? You drooling, pathetic, revolting waste of flesh, touch me and touch raw power!" She flexed, a deafening explosive sound, her body responding with one more burst of growth, pumping even larger. "Look at me, you blonde piece of shit!" the Goddess sneered, "Look at all this strength and worship it! Worship this body!" The Goddess of War balled a fist under Supergirl's neck, gripping the fabric of her suit that hung from her in loose wrinkles, lifted the tiny, flat-chested, waif of a blonde up above the horizon of her own immense bust, the radiance of her face dawning over that massive chest, framed by mountainous traps and shoulders like foothills and by the helm of war, transformed again into liquid gold that flowed from her head like hair and fire. New horns, six in total, curved directly out of Kara's skull, lined with opals and gemstones, a wild array of animalistic strength not unlike the serpentine hair of the gorgon. In the same energy, Kara's eyes were two holes that peered into the depths of a burning white star, seemingly able to render any man into not just stone but pulverized dust. Her eyes whipped slivers of spectral light around their edges like newly effulgent eyelashes. She pursed her full lips, shimmering with opalescent rainbows, in utter ecstasy and delight. The sight of Power Girl's unspeakably gorgeous face was blinding to Supergirl's tear-blurred eyes as the face of a celestial looked into the face of a crumpled wretch. The contrast between them couldn't be any starker. It was as if the ugliest insect had been dropped headfirst into the cauldron of the sun. "LOOK! Look at me! See what I have become? The strongest, most powerful being on Earth! Humanity will weep at the sight of me! I am Wonder Woman! I am Supergirl! I am Power Girl no longer... I am Mars, Ares, bloodlust, WAR!" And with the final zap of electricity siphoned from Supergirl's body, the transformation was complete. Power Girl had absorbed all the power she possibly could from her cousin without ending her life, dooming her to survive to witness her reign. But then, a small, pitiful sound filled Power Girl's ears which could hear every noise on Earth at once. "...Kuh-" "What did you say? You dare to speak to the Supreme Goddess of War, the Queen of New Krypton?" Power Girl's divine anger threatened to blast the meat right off of Supergirl's brittle bones. Then came the words again, slow, pained, desperate. "Kh-... Kal..." Supergirl whispered. The memory that Superman still lived and breathed possessed the Goddess's mind with a jealousy and greed few living beings could begin to comprehend. Her face coiled into a platinum mask of covetousness and hatred. The world's beloved, the first superhero... her eyes licked and lashed iridescent flames at the thought of him. "Yes... Kal-El. The Superman. The Man of Steel... I can melt steel with my very presence. They call him the Man of Tomorrow. He hasn't yet met the greatest Woman who has ever lived and shall ever live." The Goddess of War smirked and the physics of time and space warped around her as she disappeared into the skies, instantly breaking every barrier of speed as she willed herself toward Metropolis, cradling Supergirl against her gargantuan breast. "Clark. Your time in the sun is over!" (end of part 3) (READ MORE on DeviantArt or unlock the full library of stories at Patreon)

Heya y'all! It's my first time actually posting anything on this site (that i can remember, at least) and the first time I try my hand at writing this kind of story. but since I read a lot of content from lots of authors both from here and from the previous website, I figured it was time to give a small fraction of it back. Fair warning; English isn't my mothertongue, so any mistakes are entirely mine! Without further ado, here's part one! I hope you'll enjoy it. Male Hunger Part one The humid air of his room had gotten warmer. Bran huffed and licked his lips, tasting the salty sweat racing down his head, hips rocking, his wide hands wildly jerking off his thick cock. He groaned lowly, racking a cum-covered palm through his short hair and started slapping his dick on his 6-pack, splashing precum everywhere. After a few beats, his heavy balls surged higher.. And Bran stopped, out of breath, hands off his penis, his body tensing, muscles flexing hard to keep himself from cumming. After a few long seconds, he brought a veiny hand to his mouth and licked the pre off his thick fingers, one after the other. The taste of pre and the weight of each rough fingers in his mouth had him shuddering so much his eyes closed. Bran roughly pinched his nips and grunted quite loudly as saliva filled his mouth. His other hand skimmed down his thick pecs, along the valleys of his abs, to finally grasp at his thick shaft. He fisted his dick and – the immediate, overwhelming pleasure had him gasping out and snorting air back in, nostrils wide, hips pumping- he distantly recognized the potent scent of his own musky sweat and semen, different, stronger than ever before – He needed more. “Fuuck…,” he growled out, kicking his muscled legs further apart. He needed just a bit more. His other hand left his fluid-covered pecs to tug at and massage his bloated balls, the sensations shooting up sparks up his body. They felt so good, so full, he threw his head back on his pillow; his pre-covered hair coating them. He rocked his hips harder, the sound of his bed hitting the wall getting louder. He distantly heard some of his dorm neighbors hit the wall back but he couldn’t find it in himself to give a single fuck; his attention solely focused on pleasuring his thick, weeping cock. “Fuck!,” he snarled, teeth bared, as release started sweeping through his body. He tensed ever more, both hands tight on his shaft now, tense, striated pecs protruding more and hiding the root of his dick. Not that it mattered; his eyes were focused on the way his cock thickened even more, despite the two fists holding it. Long moments passed, during which his heavy balls, usually hanging low, pulled up and sent its fiery magma up. Bran panted wildly, wide eyes almost rolling backwards, as the first load of semen burst out and arched up the wall behind him, almost splashing on the wall. Some of the thick magma dropped back down and landed on his face, in his mouth, in his hair and on his pecs. After a few tense seconds, as the thicker and warmer liquid and its unusually strong taste coated his taste-buds, a second explosion of semen went out. It did much the same as the first. The third was much the same. “Mmhhh… So good...,” Bran moaned lewdly, in a pleasure-filled haze, as his body alternated between tensing and releasing loads of thick cum over and over. He groaned some more at the ninth; the final shot, the rest of his release dribbling out thickly and utterly flooding his abs. Still in a daze, heart beating loudly in his ears, Bran stroked his heaving belly, sliding the thick white goo over his wide torso, up his neck, down to his pubes. He thoroughly coated his still-rock-hard penis and huge, heavy balls in the stuff. Then he scooped as much as he could and licked it up with one hand, the other dedicating itself to playing with his hard cock. After a while, Bran’s stomach cramped. He was quite hungry but couldn’t be bothered to move. But the sleepiness he expected after such a release didn’t come: he started feeling antsy, as though he had had too much caffeine. His cramping stomach decided him; he would eat something, maybe watch something mindless on the TV, and then he’d go back to bed. But as he got up, something felt off; but Bran shrugged the idea away. He did the same with the vague idea of putting on clothes; it was too much trouble, besides no one was there to care besides himself. And he felt quite warm; he was still sweating. The fact he used to care a lot more about not being buck-naked in the dorm, even in his room, a few weeks ago amused him distantly. His feet thudded and left perspiration on the floor as he left the cum-covered bed and wall behind him. He felt something warm hit his legs and snorted in amusement; his hard-on was still leaking. Feeling even hungrier, Bran headed straight to the small fridge and opened the door. The sudden light had him squinting -the sudden cold surprised him – as he bent his head to search for something good to eat. The cold felt good against his warm flesh and he shuddered in delight. He reached for a can of coke, rose back up, and drank it in a few big gulps. He drank another, and another after that. Then, stomach feeling less empty, but still needing fuel, he went back down and was about to take another can when he noticed something and huffed out a short laugh. “Fuckin’ hell,” he whispered. So focused he had been on filling his belly, he hadn’t really noticed that his still leaking hard-on had coated some stuff in pre. He smirked, shook his head and took out some leftover – spaghetti bolognese – to heat up while he turned on the light, searched for a fork and a big plate. After serving himself, he set himself in front of the TV and, before turning it on, he couldn’t help but checking himself out. His reflection showed him as he was; sitting on a slightly-too-small sofa, large arms bursting out off thickly muscled shoulders and traps rising high of his bull neck. Big legs spread wide, cock high and thick, still dripping, heavy balls low and resting on the sofa. His tight musclebound gut and the V-shape low on his hips partially hidden by his wide and 10 inches long cock, his tits hanging low on a decent pair of round pecs, biceps close to 17 inches and veins and striations both easy to see on his 6’3 frame… All of those were pretty good reasons for the deep satisfaction he felt at looking at himself, a smirk reflecting such masculine pride tugging at his lips. His cock pulsed heavily as pre made his abs glisten and- his stomach cramped: he took a big bite of his meal, burped loudly – the coke – huffed out a laugh, and, feeling a bit more satisfied but still quite ravenous, he demolished his meal. But before he knew it, he was back at the fridge, pulling out enough to make another, albeit bigger meal – he was that hungry. But a man his size needed to eat quite a lot to stay so big. He smiled. “’m damn glad Ian’s not back yet,” he snickered, “he’d freak if he saw me right now”. He slapped his belching cock absently, a meaner smirk on his lips. “Though I know how I’d shut him up, mmffhhh…”, Bran closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, imagination running wild, his cock pulsing harder. Bran then smiled and stole an under-cooked chicken breast from the frying pan, too hungry to wait any longer. He munched on it, muscled jaw breaking it down fast, and his strong neck moving as he swallowed, eyes glazing over in pleasure, drool dropping from his lips. Too busy eating, he didn’t notice the bigger veins appearing all over his studly body. He was too taken up by the need to fill his void-like belly. Meanwhile, the scent of his body, of male pleasure and exertion slowly but silently got stronger in the warm and humid air of his room.

It’s Friday fight night at the local illegal underground bare knuckle club, its well hidden so no issues with the police finding out. It was set up a few month ago by 24 yr old Johnny D’eath, allowing him to vent his anger and impose his dominance in the only way he knew, beating people to within an inch of there lives. Many people have been hospitalised and some even paralysed by him. No one has come close to even hurting him, the majority of the crowd turn up just to watch him slaughter the poor folk taking him on. Johnny has large advantage due to his monster 350lb frame which is covered in huge juicy unbelievably strong muscle, built up over the years through roid abuse, big eating and very heavy gym work, a recent bench press pb of 240kg for 15 reps proves he is one strong fucker!!! But……………. Following Johnny to every fight meeting and being his gym partner is his 18yr old brother Bobby. Johnny started taking Bobby to the gym with him 3 years ago as bobby wanted to be big and strong like his brother, back then Johnny was still a very respectable 230lb and was one of the strongest guys in the gym. The 2 brothers would train every day for 2 and a half hours, working a single body part each day. From early on training together Johnny knew there was something different about Bobby, even at 15 Bobby was adding some serious weight to his lifts on a regular basis. By the time his 17th birthday came along he was benching 180kg for fun, 1 rep maxing at 215kg. It was around this time that Johnny started hitting the roids big time, Bobby wanted a piece of the action too, seeing how well he had trained natural, his brother agreed to let him take them too. Back to the present day, and this really where the story begins…… So here we have Johnny on the top and Bobby on the bottom….. It’s 630pm, the two brothers have just finished having there high carb high protein meal, both meals in excess of 5000 cals, both are growing boys!!! Bobby is even more happier tonight as he will be fighting for the first time. “ Fuuuck bro can’t wait to fight tonight, I’ve been ready for ages and its finally happening” Bobby say joyfully as they start walking to the underground area. “ I feel sorry for the poor guy who has to take me on bro, what was it, 6 punch bags I’ve destroyed this past few weeks, even made a dent in that steel pillar a few times haha!!” Johnny looked at his pumped up, juiced up brother and smiled "yes bro, I can't believe how strong you gotten, I must admit I was no where near as strong as you when I was 18, I thought my genetics were awesome , but jeeez yours are on another level" Although he didn’t want to admit it, Johnny was very envious of his little bros superior size and strength gains for his age, at 18 Johnny was a athletic 150lb, at the same age is Bobby is a bulky 200lb. Bobby beamed in delight still “ yeah bro what was it I was benching for fun the other day? fuck man, 210 kilo benchpress at 18!!! Im only 30kg behind you, jeez I’ll be surpassing you soon!!!” “ Yeah that was majorly impressive , 20 reps , damn!! Surpass me, we’ll see about that soon enough!!!” Johnny replied, sounding confident, but deep down he knew his bro would begin destroying him strength wise very soon. But in a show of wanting to keep his authority for the time being, he stops, grabs bobby from behind and under the armpits and lifts bobby off the floor, Bobbys bulky weight means that johnny cant hoist him too high but its still a fair few feet of the ground. He squeeze his lats but comes up against the granite hardness of them. "Fuck my little bro has muscles of steel" Johnny exclaims, “ wow I’m impressed!!” Bobby chortles, “ hows this for impressive then…..” he begins to flare his lats which breaks his brothers grip instantly, bobby lands on his feet and turns round to face his bro “ did you look this good and feel this strong at 18 bro” For the first time ever, Johnny was beginning to feel inferior to his much smaller but insanely strong bro. "Well bob, you know what I looked like at 18! 18 yr old me would bet destroyed by you I have no fear in that" Bobby smiled cockily, “ yeah you got that right bro, would be a much closer match now I reckon!” Without warning he wraps his arms round his brothers waist and lifts him with a little ease off the ground, then puts him down “ 350lb for one!!! I’m one freaky strong 18yr old, no one is gonna beat me are they” “mmmpphhh....oh....fuuuck....mmmmph” Johnny trys to wriggle free but he cant shake free of the tremendous power and incredible unstoppable strength of his bro. “ Jeeez bro, where you been hiding that power!!!” Bobby looks at his bro, “ Well didn’t want to show my bro up to early now do i!!!” he winks dominantly at his bro. Johnny inwardly gulps hard, what has his bro turned into. Around 10 mins later they arrive at the venue, an expecting crowd already building, they walk through to the competitiors area. Both of them eye up the other fighters, all huge and built except one guy who was more a athletic build, “ good luck to him huh bro” Johhny says. " Yeah bro, he definitely wont last long, but holy shit man, some of these guys are mountains, I bet we’d destroy em all though bro haha” Bobby replies. "Of course bro, no ones beating us, let's go get changed" Johnny says Once in the changing room they take off their tops and get changed into gym shorts and barefoot. Johnnys legs were of course huge, but he looked at Bobbys and although smaller they still had some thick thick muscle piled on them. “Fuck bro, you even have thick legs now, they look solid as, remember years ago when in the changing room I impressed you by wrapping my thick legs around a chair and crushing it with my legs?" – Johnny looks at a chair in front of them both. "I bet you can't do that." The skinny athletic guy is a few metres from them, he is staring at them both but more intently at bobby. Bobby looks at his with a new found dominant look, “ bro I have legs that a full grown man would be proud of, SO bearing that in mind do you think that chair would be a match for me, but I’ll prove it anyway.........!” Bobby walks to the chair, he gives the watching skinny guy a evil look he shakes visibly, he wraps his legs round the chair and squeeze, within seconds it shatters into pieces. Johnny looks open mouthed "fuck, that shit is sick man, no time at all!” A bulge was beginning to appear in his shorts when mercifully the starter bell rang. They call the first fighting match, its Bobby versus the skinny athletic guy. Bobby walks uber confidently into the ring, the other guy too but he is looking shit scared after witnessing bobbys strength in the changing area. The match starts Bobby confidently walks around the ring eying up his visibly shaken opponent, as bobby gets closer to him, the size difference is clear for all to see, both fighters hands out boxing style, Bobby eggs the skinny guy on to make the first move, he takes the bait, he comes at him with a left hook, bobby easily dodges it and grabs his arm, he easily yank it to the side, CRACK, his shoulder shatters form the force, in the same movement bobby balls up his fist and aims a 25% strength punch to his face, breaking his nose entirely he falls on the floor. There is a audible gasp from the watching crowd at how ruthless that was, Johnny looks on, face one of joy and thoughts of “fuuuuuuuck!!” The guy stands up gingerly and scared like hell he bolts towards Bobby and lands a punch in bobbys stomach and one in the face. Bobby don’t even flinch, the skinny guy continues to pound his mid section with punches but non of them coming anywhere near close to hurting Bobby, he’s probably doing more harm to himself. Bobby just laughs at him, “ that all you got kid I’m bored “ with one shove of his arm he sends him flying into the fence. Bobby cracks his neck and knuckles and dominantly bounds over to him, fists charged, he then starts an onslaught of his own on the guys abs, using around 65% of his power bobby lay siege, each punch hitting there mark, destroying his abs with every punch, each punch came with a loud cry, left right left right he pounds for a good 2 mins, he steps back , the guy is barely conscious, his stomach is ballooned with bloody welts the size of melons. The referee takes one look at the skinny guy and instantly call it off the guy is not going to last much longer if it continues, the ref tries to hold bobby off "Ok man you got this match" Bobby looks at the judge “ get your hands of me “ he gives the death stare the ref backs away, Bobby turns and looks at his bro, he gives him a look that says, “its my time now!!!” Johnny gulps, wondering what his bro is going to do, looking at him, his big bulky body looking uber solid, ready to destroy again. Bobby walks over to the puny guy, grabs him by his neck and easily lift him high in the air, he turns in a circle to show everyone, the crowd gasp again at the young hunks power, gurgling, struggling to breath, the skinny guy hangs there. Bobby walks right over to where his brother is’ “Consider me an alpha now BOY” Bobby raises his other arm to reveal his young teen but masculine, sweaty hairy pits, the aroma oozing out of it fills his bros nostrils, Bobby stuffs the guys head in the deep crevice between his pits and lats and begins lowering his arm over the guys head like a vice starts easily crushing his head, within seconds his head caves in on itself, bobby raises his arm and lets the corpse fall on the floor. Bobby hits a most muscular pose and growls dominantly in his brothers face.

Here is a short preview of the story I'm currently working on: No Limits for Elina ___________________________________________________________________________________ And impossibly, she has done it… she bench-pressed the 420-kg barbell for as many reps as I told her, 30 solid repetitions, and now this young mind-blowing muscle girl wanted an audible confirmation from me for this truly inhuman feat of strength. I came closer to this incredible, sobbing of impossible efforts muscle beast, looked her straight in the eye and said “Twenty nine...” Crazy… what was I doing, thought I to myself. “Uuuuuuuaaaaffff…”, exhaling deeply, Elina licked her lips, closed her eyes and moaned again. More tears ran down her cheeks and I refused to believe what I saw next. Her bulging biceps hardened more, her absolutely man-shaming pectorals grew instantly, squeezing out every bit of muscle and power reserves left in them. Oh so slowly, the bar went down again, the metal surface kissed the tops of her reddened, extremely swollen and mega shredded chest and unbelievably, inch by inch Elina performed the rep number 31, bringing her arms into a full stretch, screaming and sobbing like a woman possessed and pushing the barbell completely up again! I just starred at this insanely ripped young muscle goddess, marveling at how hard was she pushing her body, especially her pectoral flesh. It went over all the known and even imaginable limits and has almost made me faint. Veins grew thicker and more prominent all over her massive frame, running over her big neck, ready to invade Elina’s beautifully contorted face. Participating in this scene of pure female strength and iron will power and not knowing where I’m actually going to take this, I, to my great fear and fetish satisfaction, repeated again “Twenty nine…” With that her super jacked cunt shot a truly heavy load of juices that flew almost to the opposite side of the basement and her eyes rolled up into her skull. Unbelievably, with a mask of agony, determination and bizarre pleasure on her face Elina lowered the bar to her massive chest again! This time rather in one violent dropping action. “Gghhaaa…”, her lungs were burning, she couldn’t even scream properly anymore. In fear I noticed, that she loosened the grip of her hands on the barbell. The young muscle beast turned her beautiful face to me, opened her eyes and whispered, punctuating every word with heaving of her massive pecs “This… Is… For… You…” What came next made my jaw crush on the concrete floor. The gorgeous female Adonis let go with her hands of the loaded with 420 kilograms barbell and rested it to lay right on her humongous, radiating with power pectorals! Her chest was so chiseled with deep muscle striations that the round form of the bar fit between one of the numerous, profoundly cut muscle groups, which formed a transition-canyon from her upper to her lower pectoral plateau, so the bar got locked there totally secured from rolling back or forth. “Uuuughaaaa…”, with a cry full of wild exhaustion Elina gritted her teeth, flexed her free arms into crazily vibrating, freakish double biceps pose and I watched in disbelief how more thicker veins grew on her ever-reddening chest! Her traps rose even higher, screaming with growth and power, her abs bloated bigger, visibly thickening her waist, her thighs bloated larger than ever, pressing her legs hard on the basement floor. But her pecs, oh gawd, they bulged out and incredibly, began to rise, pistoning the extremely heavy weight up again!!! "GGRRRRHHHUUUU…!!!", gym mirrored walls reflected Elina’s wild guttural growl and impossibly, she began the next agonizing rep... ___________________________________________________________________________________ If you like it check the already posted 3 parts of the story at https://www.patreon.com/foker and https://www.deviantart.com/foker More to come!

OK after working on things for a few hours lastnight and today. I managed to get some stuff down and get things to where I think they work ok at least. I had honestly wanted to write more though. But I think breaking it up more will help me get things out. I still need to work on more ideas I have for them. Been having a hard time with work (working remotely) that's just frustrating as hell and ruining my motivation and desire to continue. Unlike the days or hours the last parts took. This one took weeks. Thank you everyone who has commented about my work. I really appreciate it. Honestly surprised that my ideas and stories have an audience from the gay side of muscle. Would really be nice to know what parts you like or don't like. Please leave a comment! Feedback is appreciated. Part 1 is here https://muscle-growth.org/topic/20850-the-new-neighbor/ Part 1.5 is here https://muscle-growth.org/topic/20884-the-new-neighbor-part-15/ Part 2 is here https://muscle-growth.org/topic/20927-the-new-neighbor-part-2/ Again, original credit goes to https://www.deviantart.com/blank001/art/The-New-Neighbor-Part-1-657528406 Visual examples. This is sort of how I picture Danielle This is what I think Dylan's physique looks like. I really like MBBBB's artwork. I wish he was still around _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ “Now it’s time to pump some real weight!” Dylan said. He turned and walked over to a leg press machine, a very BIG leg press machine. Dani followed Dylan over to it and just stood to the side. She looked over the machine, her jaw dropped as she counted how much weight was on the sled. Ten plates, fifteen….3000 pounds!!???! She watched Dylan climb onto the machine and sit back in the reclined seat. He placed his feet on the plate and pushed hard with his legs. His quads exploded in size and definition as he exerted his muscles. Each head in his quads were like massive hydraulic pistons, made of steel fibers. Dylan even extended his feet out, his calves practically doubled in size as they took the 3000 pounds of weight. His hands on the locking handles, he pushed them out and unlocked the sled. “WAIT!” Dani shouted. She smiled and scrambled around the leg press and climbed up the back of it. She perched herself on top of it and sat facing Dylan. They grinned at each other. With slow controlled motion, he lowered the sled, his legs nearly touching his massive pecs. Then with a guttural grunt, an explosion of muscle in his legs, Dylan powered the sled up and started his set, pumping his legs with more weight than any other person could pump. Dani watched him as he did rep after rep. She could feel his power, his strength with every motion. Not just the contraction, but his control of the weight and sled on the way down. From Dylan’s vantage point, he could see Dani was already aroused, her shorts were wet between her legs. Dylan finished his first set. Locked the sled in place, got up and started to load more plates. Dani just watched him, her eyes wide as he carried a 100 pound plate in each hand, she loved seeing his muscles work, even doing simple things. Dylan added another ten plates, sat back down in the less press and started his second set. Dani moaned deeply feeling Dylan’s strength as he powered the now 4000 pounds of weight upwards. She could tell he was moving it slower, it was more of a strain for him, but he pumped it easily. Dani pulled up on her sports bra, her nipples were rock hard, her tits swollen from arousal and tingling. She cupped her tits and moaned louder as she kneaded them. She played with her tits to tease Dylan, seeing if he’d break his rhythm as he pumped. She even brought both her tits to her lips and would suck on her nipples alternately. Dylan glared at her, he had been wanting to do that himself since they first met. Dani’s tits are, for all intents and purposes, magnificent. They’re huge, even for her small frame, round with a slight tear drop shape, they’re heavy and firm. Thanks to Dani’s regular workouts, she has little back problems and they still sit high up on her chest, not much sag to them. Dylan kept pumping, heaving the 4000 pounds up and down, Dani could see his shorts were filling out more and more, his cock couldn’t hide the fact that he liked her little show. He pushed up one final time and started to work his calves just by pointing his feet. Pumping the sled in short fast motions. To Dani it felt like Dylan was fucking her, pumping hard and fast. Sitting with her legs over the edge of the sled, feeling the fast hard repetition. Dani was focusing on Dylan’s legs, his quads were fucking massive they looked almost double in size from being pumped up, all the veins in his legs were throbbing. His calves were exploding over and over with each rep, he was doing calf raises with 4000 pounds! He pumped harder and faster still, shaking Dani’s body hard on the sled, he watched her closely. Her hands were squeezing her tits hard, she closed her legs, squeezing tight, soft cries escaping her lips as she struggled to hold back her orgasm. Suddenly, Dylan stopped pumping and locked the sled in place. He stood up and held out his hand for Dani, to help her off the sled, she was breathing ragged, her huge tits heaving. She took Dylan’s hand to steady herself, moving slowly trying to control herself, being left on the edge of orgasm. As she steps carefully on the plates, Dylan simply curled his arm around her waist and pulled her to him without her feet ever touching the floor. He held her up high enough so that her tits pressed against his pecs, mushrooming outwards and conforming to the shape of his muscles and he held her close. He looked in her eyes and started to gently flex his pecs against her tits, kneading and massaging them just by tensing the striations in his pecs. Dani just moaned as she grabbed onto his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist. “You fucking tease” Dani hissed at him. Dylan replied “You started it first”. He gave a slow hard flex of his pecs, really pressing into Dani’s tits as he walked over to his chin up bar. He set Dani down, despite her hands clawing at him to stay close to him, the wet spot Dani left on his abs cooling. He loved that he turned on her on this much without even touching her. It turned him on that Dani was such a slut for his muscles. He loved seeing her get so worked up. Dani watched him, he was walking in a circle, shaking out his quads after having done what must have been a few hundred reps, with 4000. Each head of his quads were BULGING. Bigger, thicker and more ripped than before he started. Dani walked up to Dylan, stopping just inches from him, her rock hard nipples grazing against him. She looked up at him with a little smirk, her small hands began pulling down on his shorts and looked down, anxious to get a look at his enormous cock. Dani gasped seeing the thick base of his cock, her pussy clenched at the memory of feeling it buried inside her. Dylan’s hand reached down and moved Dani’s hands a side. “Here, let me help”. Dylan just gripped the fabric of his shorts and pulled at them, tearing them away with ease. His bigger than any porn star cock sprung free and hung down between his legs. His crotch and balls hairless, like the rest of him. Dani loved that Dylan didn’t have any body hair, she really didn’t like hairy guys, body hair in general just got in the way in her opinion. She loved to feel smooth skin on a guy, body hair just covers too much of muscles, hides the definition and striations. Her hands slid down his abs, caressing each muscle before taking hold of his cock. One hand on top of the other and squeezing firmly. Dani moaned lustfully feeling for the first time just how big it was in her hands. She knew he wasn’t fully erect, but she couldn’t get the fingers of one hand all the way around it. It was thick, long and heavy, she lifted it slowly and began to stroke Dylan’s huge cock. She knelt down slowly, looking up and smiled seeing Dylan’s face. His eyes closing and a deep groan coming from deep in his chest. She could see Dylan clenching his fists out of the corner of her eyes, his muscles tensing. She loved the sight of his pecs tensing up from this angle. “GOD, You’re huge!” she couldn’t get over the size of him...his muscles, his cock….everything. She stroked him larger, harder. Dani wanted desperately to make Dylan feel good, she wanted to suck his cock. She wanted to feel it deep in her throat, throbbing as he orgasms. But the simple fact was, he was far too big, even in his semi erect state, just getting the head in her mouth would be a challenge. She kissed along the underside of his cock, the thick ridge pulsed against her lips powerfully. Dani grunted with a carnality she never knew she had inside her. She gripped Dylan’s cock tighter and pulled it towards her lips, kissing the huge flaring head softly. What she felt next, though, shocked her. Her fingers were being forced apart, she tried to squeeze tighter and maintain her grip on Dylan’s hard as steel cock. But she couldn’t, her fingers were being forced wider apart. She looked up at Dylan, she saw him looking down at her over his pecs. She looked back at his cock, she saw…muscles…flexing in his length. Dylan was flexing his cock, it grew thicker, longer and unbelievably harder. She stroked it lovingly, kissing the head of his cock like she was making out with a lover. She could hear Dylan groan louder, deeper. She looked up with her eyes at him, he was tensing his arms, his pecs jumping every time her lips touched his cock, his abs rippling as he breathes. She wanted to cum right then and there. All that muscle, all that power, so closer to her. “He is a GOD!”, she thought to herself. Dani hungrily sucked on Dylan’s cock head, she struggled to open her mouth wider, but her jaw wasn’t allowing her. She growled in a mix of lust and frustration. Her hands stroking his magnificent cock up and down as she tried desperately to take what is the largest human cock in the world into her mouth. Dani sucked and sucked and SUCKED. Enjoying the sounds that Dylan was making as she held his powerful cock in her hands and lips. She looked up at him, she could see his pecs jump every time she applied suction on the head. She tightened her hands as much as she could around his cock. It was harder than anything she felt before, literally, anything. A steel pole didn’t’ feel this hard, a steel pole also didn’t throb like this or have pulsating veins snaking all around and along it. Dani kissed and licked along the length, she was so lost in her own desire she couldn't begin to guess it’s dimensions. She caressed the thick ridge along the underside with her tongue. She cupped his massive balls, they more than filled her hands, they were like large oranges. “No wonder he cums like a firehose” she thought for a split second. Continuing her focus on his cock with her lips. She nibbled at the base of his cock, her lips suctioning against his skin, her eyes looking up. She couldn’t see his face, his pecs were far too thick. She did notice his nipples, pointing straight down on the under side of his pecs, they were that thick, that massive. She watched as they bulged out as Dylan flexed them, she watched his abs flexing in waves up and down. His chest heaving as he breathed, just made him look all that much bigger to Dani. She was hungry for him, desperate to suck his cock and pleasure him. She moved back along his length, and began to tend to the large flaring head. Caressing it with her tongue before she attacked it with her mouth and began sucking on the head as best she could, taking in as much as she could. Her jaw already ached from before. She looked up again, this time she saw Dylan looking down at her, having to lean over a little to see past his pecs. “I know I’m too big for you to take in your mouth, Baby. Don’t hurt yourself trying. You get an A for effort and I love what you’re doing with your lips, mouth and tongue. I want to see and feel your beautiful massive tits around my cock." Dylan grinned. Dani grinned back at him and arched her back, pushing her huge tits upward, her cleavage long and deep. But Dylan's cock was just so big it didn't fit in her cleavage. Dani cupped her tits, pulling them apart to let Dylan's cock slip between her them. Dylan groaned deeply as she began to press her huge tits together, she smiled up at him an gave her own pecs slight flexes to make her tits bounce along his shaft. It wasn't something she was good at, her tits were large and heavy, but she could do it for a quick tease. Dani was proud of her breasts, wherever she got the genetics from, she loved them. At first she hated her breasts, they started growing fast, by freshman year she was already a large D cup. Hated by all the other girls because the boys paid more attention to her. Dani quickly learned how to use her chest to get what she wanted from guys. She expertly worked her huge firm tits around the biggest and hardest cock on earth. Dylan's cock felt like it belonged between her tits, it more than filled her cleavage, it was so big Dani's tits could barely surround the circumference. It was so long that there was nearly a foot of cock sticking up over the top of her tits. Every other guy Dani had been with, their cock's just disappeared between her tits. "That's it, Dani. Show me how much you love my massive cock. Show me how much you love my fuck muscle" Dylan's words were cool, clam and powerful. Dani looked up at Dylan, hearing his words in her mind, "FUCK MUSCLE". It was a realization to her, he as right, it was his fuck muscle. She loved the name for it, no other man could ever call his manhood a fuck muscle. They just aren't a god, where as Dylan is. Dani proceeded to tit fuck Dylan and suck on the head as best she could. Dani looked up, watching Dylan as she pleasured him. He was tensing his arms harder and harder as she tit fucked him. He looked down, watching her. Dani could tell Dylan was getting close, she worked her tits more and more on his monstrous cock. Dylan awas breathing harder, faster. Tensing his muscles more and more. She could feel him tense up all over, his whole body flexed hard. Then it hit her. A powerful blast of his cum, right on her face, in her mouth, up her nostrils. Dani gasped and coughed, caught off guard by the power of it. It felt like having a bucket of water thrown at her. Only thicker and hotter. Dani fell back a little, his cock popping free of her tits. She shook her head and catching her breath, then she attacked his cock hungrily. Aiming his cock head at her mouth, barely able to take the powerful surges of his cum, choking at first, struggling to swallow the torrent of his cum, gagging hard. She felt Dylan's left hand cup the back of her head and pull her closer, making sure he lips were pressed tight against his cock head. She looked up at him, watching him curl his right arm, flexing it hard as he held her in place. Cuming so powerfully, each seconds long surge of his cock pumping more cum into her mouth and down her throat than any other man could in one night of sex. Dani's eyes were riveted to his bicep, it erupted in size. The power, the dominance, the pure Alpha nature of Dylan in this moment made Dani orgasm hard. She tried to scream but Dylan was still cumming powerfully. Dani was getting painfully sore, her mouth and throat filled with his Godly cum, her stomach taking as much as it could. More and more of his cum was spilling past her lips and covering her body. Dylan released Dani's head, she stumbled back and lay on her back looking up at him. Dylan went into a most muscular pose. He groaned then roared like a beast. He came even harder, his cock gushing all over Dani. Coating her face, tits and stomach with his hot thick seed. Dylan needed a few minutes to recover, he was in a state of mind he has never been in before. He was breathing hard, his body still throbbing, muscle twitching and his cock still rock hard, his erections usually lasting hours, it didn't wane, even now. “Dani....get cleaned up in the shower in the corner.......I need to finish my workout….I NEED to pump even more….and you can help” he told her Dani looked at Dylan a little confused, he felt a little distant. But she got up and went to the bathroom in the corner and quickly rinsed off what seemed like gallons of Dylan's cum. She was oddly really aroused by being so covered in his cum. Her stomach felt full and heavy, she noticed her lips and throat were tingling. She hurried up and finished washing off, grabbed a towel and went back out to meet Dylan at a weight rack. She watched as Dylan turned and put on a harness over his torso, it was made with thick leather and thick nylon webbing straps and metal bracing. Dylan turned around and on the back she should see there were pegs for weights. “Dani, Can you put a plate on each peg?” Dylan asked, looking over his shoulder. Dani was fit and pretty strong for her age. She tossed the towel aside, nodded and didn’t hesitate, she went one by one and put a plate on each peg, four in total, securing them in place with a pin. Dylan turned to face her again, he picked her up by her hips and set her down on his cock so she was straddling it. He held her gently by her hips, holding her weight in his hands. He looked at her and smirked. He raised his right arm, letting her weight rest on his larger, harder cock. He gripped a handle of the chin up frame and proceeded to lift himself and Dani. Nearly 1000 pounds with his weight, Dani’s weight and the plates on his back combined, with one arm. He pulled upwards slowly, powerfully with perfect control. Dani cried out and orgasmed as he pulled her up with him, just using his cock. He lowered himself down, watching Dani closely. His right arm around her waist, holding her close. She moaned out like an exhale. Then crying out again as Dylan started another rep, his now almost wine bottle thick cock pressing upwards hard against Dani with each rep, easily holding her weight. Dylan kept going, rep after rep after rep, for dozens of reps. Then changed to his right arm and kept going. Pumping his muscles, slowly, powerfully. Dani just clung to Dylan and went along for the ride. Dozens of reps later, Dylan was still pumping reps with both hands now. Dani’s mind was racing, how could he be so strong, how could he have such a physique, how in the hell does his cock have muscle tissue in it?!! How is it he is barely sweating?!!??!! All these thoughts and more went through her mind in just seconds, at random, as she tried to control her lust, the undeniable and powerful urge she felt in her mind and body, to FUCK THIS GOD OF A MAN. Dylan just smiled at Dani as he pumped. He loved the feeling of his muscles working, swelling and the feeling of his own strength. He felt stronger than ever. He loved that Dani was just cumming over and over straddled on his cock, she was clawing at his arms and pecs. Pounding her fists on his chest as he forced orgasms on her with every rep. Dylan just kept pumping, slowly, purposefully, up and down with Dani clinging to him, writhing against him. After more than a hundred continuous reps, Dylan lowered himself and let go of the handles, dropping down the last few inches to the floor. Holding Dani with his left arm. She was, by now, lost in her countless orgasms and breathing raggedly against Dylan’s chest. Holding her closer and kissing her head. He walked over to a flat bench and laid Dani down on it to let her rest. Dylan walked over to a weight rack and started to unload the weight harness, taking off plates one at a time in each hand. Then pulled the harness off his torso and stated to load up the empty bar on another weight bench, plate by plate. Dylan smiled to himself as he added the plates to his custom made bar. It was longer and slightly thicker, the sleeves were longer to accommodate more plates. Dylan was feeling amazing today and loaded up 2800 pounds, 400 more than his usual. Dylan laid back on the bench, got into position, heaved the weight up off the stands and pumped like never before. Rep after rep, Dylan powered though them. He could see and feel his pecs jump and bulge, swelling huge with every rep. Dylan did hundreds of reps, he adjusted the bench for incline and decline, did hundreds of reps more in each position. He didn't stop until his pecs and arms were on fire, the final weight on the bar was 3600 pounds. He nearly dropped it before getting it racked again. He sat lay on the bench, breathing hard. Despite being exhausted, he felt POWERFUL, more than ever before. He got up slowly, his whole body was sore, muscles twitching and throbbing all over his body. He looked at himself in the mirror, what he saw shocked even him. He was more pumped than ever before, he looked bigger, he FELT bigger. His cock surged and throbbed, swung up and thudded against his abs as Dylan got off on his own body. He started to pose, a double biceps, he flexed hard. But he was so pumped and exhausted he couldn't contract all the way, he couldn't even curl his arms fully. He tried again, flexing as hard as he could, his muscles obeyed him, but simply didn’t have the energy to. His arms could barely manage to make it to 90 degrees. Dylan exhaled hard, took several breaths, he loved how huge and pumped his pecs were, he put his hands at his waist and went into a front lat spread pose. He flexed his entire upper body, his cock twitched hard as he felt his muscles explode. His lats forcing his arms out wider. His pecs rippled like a wave moving upwards, bulging out and pushing up against his chin. Tensing his abs to make them a solid flat wall of harder than steel brick. Dylan held his breath and flexed hard, or tried to. His muscles were sore and exhausted, he let out his breath all at once, he couldn’t hold a flex at all. “I love to see how pumped you get, Baby” Dani breathed out, having recovered from being overwhelmed by dozens of orgasms. Dani ran her hands up Dylan’s back, she was blown away by how ripped he was. She could see and feel the striations in his Rhomboids and lats, veins everywhere made his back look like a road map. As she ran her hands over Dylan’s back, his muscles responded to her touch by rippling and twitching. She heard him gasp at her touch. To Dylan it was the same reaction as if someone hand touched him with cold hands. But Dani’s touch was electric. She smiled and leaned over to the side, she looked in the mirror, seeing just her head popping out to the side of Dylan’s massive form. Her jaw dropped when she saw the rest of his body in a fully pumped state. His pecs twitching, abs rippling, quads bunching, his cock visibly throbbing and the huge the tip was brushing the underside of his pecs, it was thicker than before too. His balls looked to be nearing the size of grapefruit. Dani swallowed hard, her fear creeping up again, but her libido quickly beating it back. Dani returned her attention to Dylan’s back, she stepped closer, her huge tits pressing against him, molding to the shape of his muscles and began kissing along the bulges and separations. Giving them the attention and worship the deserve. Dani couldn’t help herself, she wanted…NEEDED to touch, to feel, TO WORSHIP AND PLEASURE Dylan and all his muscles. She moved slowly to the left, her hands exploring every bulge, every separation, every vein of every muscle. Every touch of her fingers or lips would cause the muscle of the fibers directly under to flex or twitch. Dani stopped at Dylan’s side, looking directly at his bicep and tricep, she put her hands on each muscle. She stroked them up and down, squeezing gently with her small soft hands. She gasped as neither muscle had any give to them. She marveled at his pumped but unflexed bicep and tricep together. She could tell that the circumference of his upper arm was greater hips. Dani planted her lips on the bicep, kissing it, making out with it for several minutes. She was loving being this close to Dylan, getting to explore and feel every millimeter of his body. But why were her tits tingling? Every time her nipples brushed against Dylan's skin it was like a low voltage shock. It didn't hurt, it felt oddly good. She would worry about it later and didn't stop, enjoying what she was doing. Dylan just looked down, watching Dani indulge herself in his muscles, his cock throbbed even harder as she worshipped him. No one before Dani had ever made him feel this way. Like pure Alpha muscle beast. Dylan raised only his forearm so that it was parallel to the floor, making his bicep bunch up and swell larger, but still unflexed, he wasn't exerting the muscle in anyway. This simple motion made Dani grunt carnally, her hands practically clawing at his bicep. He smiled wide, enjoying Dani's reaction. Then Dylan knelt down a little, he pressed his hand between her legs and pushed his arm all the way through until his bicep was pressed harded against her pussy. Then he lifted Dani up, with just his arm, standing up straight against and holding his left arm out so that his upper arm was horizontal and his forearm was supporting Dani's back. He looked up at Dani and blew her a kiss, she smiled back and started to rock her hips. But Dylan flexed his bicep hard and fast. She could feel it jump, bulging powerfully between her legs, the muscle pounded against her pussy. Dani cried out, she leaned foward, her hands resting on his shoulder. Dylan kept flexing just his bicep, sometimes slow, sometimes fast. Dani rocked her hips and ground into the massive muscle. Lost in so much lust and pleasure she could barely understand that Dylan was fucking her with just his bicep. Let alone the fact that he was fucking her better with just a muscle, than any other man could with his cock. Dani could feel the huge thick vein along the peak of his bicep, it almost felt like a cock, it was that big, that thick and hard as it throbbed, feeding the muscle. Over and over Dylan flexed his bicep, making Dani cry out again and again as she orgasmed non-stop. Her juices gushing over his massive bicep, dripping down to the floor. Dylan held her up and fucked her with just one muscle for nearly ten mintues. Dani rode his bicep, bucking and grinding on it until she was just so overwhelmed yet again. Dylan slowly lowered her down, let her get her feet under her and then pulled her in front of him. His hands around her tiny waist as they stood together in front of a mirror, Dani leaning back against him as she slowly got her breath back. Dylan cupped Dani's huge tits in his hands, he felt their size and weight. Dani just smiled as she watched in the reflection, she loved it when guys would fondle and play with her tits. But what really excited her, was how the guy doing the fondling looked. Dylan practically towered over Dani, she was fucking huge, all muscle and his hands could cup more of her tits than anyone else could. Her tits were sensitive, and Dylan was gentle with them. But something made them even more sensitive. Dylan gave them a firm squeeze, his fingers sinking into them deeper, he loved big tits and Dani's were the biggest and firmest natural tits he had ever had the pleasure of enjoying. Just playing with them made his cock surge and throb harder. It was pressing against Dani's back, From the small of her back nearly all the way up to her neck. Dani pressed back harder against Dylan, grinding....her back against his cock, rocking her hips, bringing her arms up and running her hands through her air. She was imagining his cock to be a dance pole as she moved. "Geezus, Dylan. I still can't get over how fucking big you are. Your muscles are just massive, your cock massive.....everything about you is just fucking HUUUUUGE. I could never be with anyone else, you're ruined me Dylan. How could I have sex with a smaller, weaker....lesser man?" Dylan just continued to fondle, caress and squeeze Dani's huge tits. Enjoying himself and the image in the mirror's reflection before them. Then Dylan turned Dani around to face him, both his hands around her waist and lifted her up effortlessly. He began to kiss and nuzzle against her tits, before sucking her right nipple into this mouth. He began to suck and suck and SUCK. Dani's tits were huge, firm and begged to be sucked. He could feel her nipple swell in his mouth, like a thimble at first, then to the size of a strawberry and very very hard. He caressed and flicked her turgid nipple with his tongue. He enjoyed hearing her soft moans as he indulged himself. Sucking more and more on her nipple and breast. It wasn't long before he began to taste something in his mouth. He stopped and pulled away, looking at the large breast in front of him. On Dani's nipple was a thick honey colored liquid. Dani took looked down, curiously looking at her breast, the liquid forming a drop on her nipple and at Dylan. They looked at each other for a moment before Dylan anxiously returned to sucking on her breast. The liquid was warm and sweet. It felt rough and hot going down his throat. Like swallowing a spoonful of honey, with a strong hint of vanilla. It took considerable effort to get another drop of whatever it was Dani's breast was making. Dylan hardly thought about, he just wanted more. He continued sucking more and more, only able to extract about a tablespoon more before moving to her left breast and sucking hungrily on it. Dani cried out this time, looking down at him and pulling his head into her breast. He sucked as if he were a staving infant, he didn't know why. But he NEEDED this sweet substance. Another tablespoon of it and it stopped coming from her nipple. Dylan pulled back, still holding Dani in his hand. He looked up at her face. A curious looking in his eyes. He set her down gently and sat on the bench nearest him. Dylan looked at Dani, his eye lids were getting heavy. "Dylan...are you ok?" She looked at him, concerned at what's happening. "Yeah...I'm fine, just feeling really exhausted all of the sudden." He looked up at saw the clock on the wall. They had been down here for six hours. "We should go upstairs and get cleaned up, especially before our parents get home, considering our state of dress". He smirked at Dani and stood up slowly, he wrapped his left arm around her waist and hefted her up against his torso and began to head up the stairs. Dani leaned agianst him, kissing his huge deltoid, one hand rubbing over his chest, the other over his back. Dylan smiled at Dani as she enjoyed being close to him. She walked up the first flight of stairs and went into his family's apartment, heading to the back and into his room.Like Dani's room it had it's own bathroom as well. Dylan set Dani down gently. "why don't you go first, this one barely big enough for me as it is. There's a clean towel on the rack" "I just gotta sit down for a....minute" he said. Then his eyes shut and he fell to the side laying hap hazardly on the bed and started snoring. "Dylan? DYLAN!!!" Dani rushed over and start to shake Dylan. He wouldn't wake up and just laid there. She, tried slapping his face, pounding her fist on his chest even. She reached down and gave one of his huge balls and hard squeeze. NOTHING. "Well how about that. Give him some boob and he's out like a light!" Dani, hefted her left breast up to her lips, gave her nipple a good hard sucking. He moaned from the sensation. But got nothing from it. "Oh come on! you're fucking huge and you can only make a little bit of that stuff!!!???" She looked at Dylan and groaned. "The ONE thing that knocks him out. Gold boob juice"