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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 TROY Phew, Maggot, I’m glad it’s you who answered your door. I didn’t know what I was going to say to your parents. Oh, they’re at work… and Joey’s at school. So, you’re home alone. Yeah, I brought them. When I got your text, “I need weights. I need to lift,” I knew exactly how you felt. So, I grabbed everything I could But I gotta say, you don’t look so good. Well, you’re all red in the face and sweaty, and your eyes are open wide like saucers… and why are you all covered up in a blanket are you sick or something? Come in and close the door? Sure. Why? You’re dropping your blanket…. Whoa… Jeeeeeeeeesuuuus! Look at you! You’re a fucking tank! Look at your fucking arms! There as big as mine! Your shoulders…. Fuck! They’re huge! And you’ve got fucking monster pecs on you. You can see every freaky striation! And you abs… they’re a freaking brick wall! Your quads are massive! …and all cut up! You can see each and every muscle division! You’re not standing up straight are you? Whoa… you’re as tall as me now! Damn! All this from that blue shit? And it’s still happening? You’re still fucking growing? No fucking way! Yeah, I got some weights in the car. Come on out and help me bring them in. What? You’re afraid someone will see you? You don’t want anyone to see you until you’re done growing? Fuck that! I’m not bringing in all that shit by myself. Throw on a shirt and come out and help me. No one will probably even realize it’s you; you’re so much fucking bigger now! They took your Troy’s Maggot shirts and now you don’t have a shirt that fits? Fuck! I’ve got a spare shirt in the car. You can use that. Hang on, I’ll get it. There. Damn. It fits you like a glove. Holy fuck! I never thought I’d see the day. Did you, Maggot? Did you think you’d see the day when your pecs would be pushing out the front of one of my shirts, when your rock-hard, veiny biceps would be filling my fucking sleeves? It wasn’t so long ago you were just a shriveled up stick! Haha. Fuck, I can’t wait til Hunter and Jack get a load of the muscles on you! What? The weights? Oh yeah. Well, come help me Maggot. What are you doing just standing there? Where are we taking this shit? Oh, you got a spot cleared out in the basement? No one ever goes down there, hunh? Ok sounds like a good spot to set up. Wait a minute, Maggot, don’t take all those fucking plates by yourself… Damn, look at you! Look at you lifting all that goddamn weight by yourself! Holy fuck, you’re getting strong! Can I lift as much? Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, Maggot? Watch this! There…! Even one plate more than you took! It’ll be a cold day in hell before you out muscle me, Maggot! Brian’s Journal – Day 67 A cold day in hell before I out muscle him? Ha! All I can say is I hope the devil has a scarf because he’s going to need it before the sun sets today! I’m fucking growing. I’ve been fucking growing non-stop since yesterday, and I’m going to continue fucking growing. I can fucking feel it! I kept waking up all last night. And every time I did, I went to the mirror and I was fucking bigger. I’d go back to bed, wake up again in an hour or so, and I’d be even bigger. Fuck, it felt awesome, looking at those bulging biceps, that big chest, my wide back, and knowing next time I woke up, they’d all be fucking bigger, thicker, and wider with powerful, heaving muscle! Fuck yeah! My parents poked their heads into my room before they left for the day. I lay in my bed, all covered up. Little did my dad know I had grown two huge, veiny, muscled-out arms, just one of which could fucking break him in two. Haha. But I kept all that bulging, rippling muscle covered up under blankets and just grunted when they told me to be good. I’d be fucking good, all right! Fuck, even my grunt was deeper. It wasn’t long after I got out of bed that I began to feel a kind of burn in my heaving muscular body. I needed to lift. Fuck, did I need to lift! My parents didn’t own a weight set do I did the only thing I could, I texted Troy. I texted Troy and he came. Even more important, he brought weights! And my body was fucking burning for them! We set them up in our basement and I was loading the bar almost before we finished putting the bench together. Troy couldn’t believe how big I’d gotten. He knew I was as big as him. Haha. He was in for a fucking surprise. I could feel I was on the express train to massiveness. And the way I was growing, I knew it wouldn’t be long before I was bigger than him, way bigger. Fuck, I was going to be bigger than Troy. I felt myself getting hard at the thought. Bring it on! I hopped on the bench, but all notions about how much I could lift went out the window. I’d been benching about 275 prior to today, but I didn’t waste my time with that. I went right to 6 plates, 315. That was Troy’s bench. I thought it would satisfy my body’s hunger for a lift, but it didn’t, not even close. I pounded out a set of 10 with ease. It was way too easy. I needed more of a challenge. I needed more weight, a lot more weight! I hoped off the bench and almost without thinking about it added another two plates to each side. I slid onto the bench and under the barbell. “Maggot,” said Troy. “That’s a 495 pound bench. That’s crazy. You’re gonna hurt yourself.” “Fuck that,” I said. I was in a kind of growth craze. Growing, getting bigger, that’s all that mattered. I was blindly obeying the demands of my body. “Lift this for me,” it seemed to be saying. “Lift this and we’ll get fucking massive!” “I’m going to fucking bench this,” I said to Troy. “Either fucking help me or get out of the way!” “Ok,” Troy said, shaking his head, “I’ll try and spot you, but at 495, I don’t know how much good I’m going to do.” “Spot me?” I laughed. “Just fucking stand back!” I grabbed the bar with fierce determination, and lifted. At first, it wouldn’t budge. I tried harder, as hard as I could. I could feel that this was what my body wanted, what it hungered for. I continued to give it everything I had. I felt the blood rushing to my head, my face turning red, the veins popping out of my neck. And finally I managed to get it off the support. Fuck, I felt my arms exploding with muscle and as I lifted the bar, I could feel big triceps swell out and form deep, thick horseshoes. Fuck, I could actually feel the hard muscles swelling up on my arms… like they were going to blast right out of my skin, like an incredibly intense instant pump! “What the fuck, Maggot,” gasped Troy. “What the fuck is going on?” Troy was in the spotter’s position. I looked up at him with his eyes wide open and his mouth agape. I just looked up at him and smirked. “What do you think’s going on, Troy Boy?” And then, my arms shaking under the weight, I slowly lowered it down to my chest. It was excruciating and exhilarating, all at the same time. I could feel my pecs, two solid mounds of shredded muscle strained to their limit. And Troy’s t-shirt, the way it wrapped around me so tightly, I could feel every hard, bulging muscle on my torso… and they were growing! My fucking shoulders; they were like expanding rocks, I could feel them swelling with size. I could feel my abs, six blocks of steel-like muscle pushing out from my stomach. And my arms, damn, I could feel they were passing big and were heading for huge. I wasn’t exactly sure what was happening to me, but I found it so fucking hot I was really getting stiff. But now I needed to lift the bar back up. I could feel my body demanding it. My face was so pumped with blood, that if any more blood rushed up there, I felt it would explode. And then it started happening; unbelievably, my pumped up arms began to respond to my will and I started pushing the barbell back up. “FUCK!” I yelled while my whole body started shaking. Oh my God! My muscles… the were growing… more and more… so fucking intense! I began hearing popping threads and tearing seams as my iron body started erupting with size and ripping its way out of Troy’s shirt. Jesus, I could feel my entire frame was getting wider, longer, thicker and heavier. “HOLY FUCK, MAGGOT!” shouted Troy. “ARRRRRRRGH!” I yelled as I felt the sleeves around my powerful delts explode, destroyed by shoulders were blossoming into massive, ripped and segmented boulders. And my arms, fuck, I turned my head and watched my arms blast into massiveness right in front of my eyes. I could see the sinew weaving together making those fucking horseshoes thicker, and those biceps bulkier. “Whatever you’re doing Maggot, you gotta stop. You gotta stop right now!” bellowed Troy. “Fuck that, Troy!” I yelled as I felt the shirt get tighter and tighter. “This is your fucking shirt, Troy! Watch what my fucking body is going to do your fucking shirt!” There was more tearing around my torso and a second later, my mammoth pecs just erupted out of Troy’s shirt. They were huge ripped mountains of muscle, sandwiched between my giant arms and engorged with blood as I strained with all my might to push that weight up. RIIIIP, SNAP, SNAP, SNAP, POP! My expanding iron-like lats, bulging traps and thickening neck, burst out of the remaining pieces of Troy’s shirt, completely reducing it to shredded rags. And then BAM it was up. It was all the way up! I had benched 495 pounds. Damn. “Oh yeah!” I shouted, as I felt a shit eating grin burst out across my face. “Fuck yeah! Let’s see you bench fucking 495, Troy boy!” Then I did another rep only this time it felt easy. “Nice,” I said, laughing. Then I quickly pounded out another five reps before I racked the weight. I leapt up off the bench check myself out in the mirror we’d set up. Holy fuck, I was gigantic! About 6’ 5” and ridiculously wide and bulging! I tore off the shredded remains of Troy’s t-shirt and hoooooly fuck, I was a monster, a fucking muscle monster! I weighed at least 400 lbs. and I was all muscle, every freaking, bulging, vein covered inch of me. My pecs were like round hard melons, my shoulders and back were as wide as doors. My upper arms were at least the size of my head, with thick angry veins leading up to bowling ball delts. My workout shorts had fit okay when Troy arrived, but now my mammoth quads and hams were squeezed so snugly into the legs I was sure the slightest flex would destroy them completely. Of course my shorts were completely safe from my monstrous diamond-hard calves. And my package… I could see the front of my shorts pushed out as far as it could go in a giant bulge, and practically breaking under the strain. “How do you like your maggot now, Troy?” I said, strutting over to him and looking down at his wide-eyed, open mouthed expression. Fuck, look how much bigger I was than him! I was bigger than Troy! I was way fucking bigger than Troy! I was truly enormous, a fucking god! Each and every one of my muscles, from my telephone pole neck to my monster calves, were hard, gigantic, veiny masses! And Troy’s… Troy’s were just big. “Look at me!” I said flexing my massive arms and leering down at him. “I’m pretty fucking big now, aren’t I?” I loved understatement. I was fucking colossal! I hit a double bi, admiring the huge, twin granite peaks as they erupted from my arms. “Think we’ll win the bet now?” But Troy just stood there, apparently unable to speak. And me, I was getting distracted by my shorts. They were so fucking tight, they were really starting to hurt. And there was a recently enlarged caged beast down there that seriously wanted out. I reached down to pull off my shorts. But it didn’t quite work that way. I started to try to peel my shorts off of my enormous muscle encased legs, but I was having serious trouble. So, I slipped my meaty hands under the waist band and, with a heart stopping RIIIIIP, just tore the shorts right off my body, underwear and all. Fuck. I stood there, completely naked, staring at myself in the mirror. And I have to say I was stunned by what I saw. Damn, I was masculine perfection. Besides my killer upper body, I had the legs of a total beast. Each of my huge thighs was every bit as big around as my waist and carved with rolling, rippling sinew. My balls were like two tangerines and my cock hung over them almost to my knees, thick and heavy as a fire hose. “This is too fucking freaky,” said Troy, and then he turned and ran. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going Troy Boy!” I hollered and raced after him. “Don’t run away like a little bitch!” Troy tore out of the house, jumped into his car, and started the engine. No way was Troy going anywhere. He helped me do this! Fuck, he practically made me in to this muscle beast! No way was he leaving now. I fucking wanted him here. That’s right he wasn’t leaving because I fucking wanted him here! But could I stop a car? Fuck yeah, I could! I ran up behind his car, squatted down, dug my legs in and grabbed it below the chassis. Troy put the car in gear and started to pull away. But I pulled back! But could I stop it? I heaved and heaved. I felt every huge, powerful muscle strain in my huge, powerful body. Fuck, it felt like I might burst something. And then I felt it. I was growing again! My arms were bulging out bigger. My monster legs were getting even thicker! And then I was doing it! I was holding back his car! He gunned the accelerator. I could hear the wheels spinning. But he wasn’t going anywhere! Suddenly it sunk in! Holy fuck, I had a hold of Troy’s car and was keeping it back, using nothing but pure muscle! And I could feel it. All that physical power made manifest in pound after pound of steel-like, vein ridden beef exploding out of every inch of my body! FUUUUCCCCK YEAHHHH! “Come back here, Troy,” I bellowed. “Stop being a little bitch!” But Troy hit the accelerator and just kept pouring gas into the engine. I heard it rev up loud and strong. “Okay, fine!” I shouted. “If that’s the way you want to play it, go ahead! See what happens!” I looked down at my huge pecs and started grinning, I felt them getting bigger. The striations were getting thicker, the huge muscle globes were pushing out further, bulging up fuller. And fuck I was rising up, as if I was on some kind of a lift. Holy fuck! I was getting bigger and taller. Just like with the weights, straining my muscles on Troy’s car was helping me get even more colossal. “FUCK! YEAH!” Troy must have guessed what was happening because he killed the engine, jumped out of the car and hid around the other side. “Now you’re hiding? You are such a fucking pussy!” I yelled! Then I got an idea, A FUCKING FANTASTIC IDEA! I grabbed the car again only this time I lifted. Groaning and grunting, I felt every massive muscle in my body bulge and throb. And slowly, I began to make it move. I looked down as my feet, as they shuffled back and forth adjusting for the weight. Holy crap, look at my feet! They were huge and they seemed to be growing even bigger, becoming more solid with heavier bones, throbbing veins, and widening toes! Oh fuck yeah, bigger, I want to get bigger! As I continued to lift as I felt my two calves become rock hard with the pump and rapidly blow up to the size of soccer balls, flaring out larger and flexing behind my giant thickening shin bones. And my knees almost appeared to be shrinking as they were being completely overwhelmed by my massive expanding thighs. Oh my God, my upper legs were evolving into huge undulating, tightly woven masses of powerful sinew, throbbing under my skin, each one trying to bulge bigger than it’s humongous, shredded brother. And as massively wide as they got, they also seemed to be stretching longer, making my already impossibly colossal body even taller. And my balls… They were the size of two large oranges hanging below my monster cock which was about 15 inches long, as thick as a beer can, and only semi-hard. As I lifted the impossible weight of the car higher, I could feel my abs clench. Fuck, they were thrusting out of my stomach, growing, widening into eight deeply carved, solid bricks of muscle that violently heaved in and out with every monster breath I took. Fuck, I checked out my arms, as they gripped the chassis. My forearms were evolving into enormous bulging and swelling masses of ripped cords and tendons just popping with power. My biceps were massive globes of vein covered sinew with peaks alone that put Troy’s entire bicep to shame. My pecs erupted to the size of boulders, huge and ribbed with thick muscle fibers and I could feel my gargantuan lats spread out behind me, like a kind of thick muscle cape. Slowly my ridiculously gigantic arms straightened as I completed a military press with Troy’s car. Oh man, the fucking size of me… I was so fucking massive. So much fucking muscle over every bulging inch of me, now I had become an unstoppable giant, made solely of massive, heaving muscles. Troy looked terrified. I bet he never saw this coming! His maggot was now a seven and a half foot tall muscle giant, more than five feet wide at the shoulders, with huge thick mountainous traps dwarfing his barrel neck. I had grown gigantic, satiated wrecking ball delts supporting enormous, veined wrapped upper arms that resembled giant muscle globes bulging out impossibly huge and hard. My forearms had evolved into a huge conglomeration of thick woven cords, big around as Troy’s torso. My chest had blossomed into two massive orbs of sinew, hard, solid and ripped. My abs had become eight concrete slabs of muscle leading down to my fire hose cock and my grapefruit balls. And my legs… Crap, my thighs had grown so big around, they made the nearby tree trunks look skinny, and I could feel each and every gigantic, powerful leg muscle bulge and ripple under my skin as I shifted my weight from foot to foot. “How ‘bout now, Troy?” I boomed, while still holding his car above my head. “How do you like your maggot now?” He couldn’t say anything, not a thing. “I feel amazing,” I cried, “so fucking strong. I bet I could… Is your car fully insured?” Troy nodded rapidly. I got this giant grin on my face and suddenly I began to squeeze Troy’s car. I began to hear creaking metal followed by a loud pop from the car and then another. A bolt dropped out of it and bounced off the ground. “FUCK YEAH!” I cried as the car frame started to warp. Jesus, I was crushing the car! With my massive bare hands, I was crushing Troy’s car. Then bolts and rivets and engine parts started cascading down in a metallic rain as laughing, I continued to destroy the car with just the raw power in my megalithic arms. “Look at me, Troy boy!” I called. “Look at what your maggot can do!” I threw down Troy’s car with a tremendous crash of metal. Troy turned and ran. “Don’t run from me, Tiny Troy!” I called taking off after him. “Don’t run from your maggot!” I was amazed at how fast my long, hugely powerful legs caught up with him. I grabbed him with one massive, meaty hand, and effortlessly picked him up with my impossibly gigantic muscled-up arms and held him dangling in the air. “Don’t do this to me,” he said. “Please, not out here where everyone can see!” Just what exactly did he think I was going to do to him? “Remember Tiny Troy?” I said. “Remember when we first started and you did this to me…?” Then I noticed it. His reaction was exactly the same as mine had been. He was supporting a gigantic boner. Damn. That’s what he didn’t want out in the open where everyone could see. Tucking him under my muscle pylon of an arm, I hurried him inside and back down to the basement. I set him down and got my first good look at my ridiculously massive body in the mirror. My pecs were two gigantic globes of flesh, sticking out about two feet in front of me overshadowing a range of eight massive muscle plateaus rising out of my stomach and rippling in and out with every breath I took. My back spread out behind me wider than a barn door and about five times as thick. And my legs were two monstrous pillars, as thick around as an oil drum, with all the massive muscle groups visibly writhing and twisting with the slightest move. And every vein, every striation of every muscle group was clearly defined beneath my bronzed skin. My impossibly thick neck was now bent slightly over because I was too tall for the basement’s low ceiling and I was so wide with heaving, bulging, massive muscles, I almost filled all the available space. And as I stood staring open-mouthed at this vision, I felt my giant cock start to lengthen and grow stiff. Bigger and thicker it got, as I stared at my massively muscled, flawlessly proportioned, gigantic, heaving, marble-like muscle body in the mirror. Bigger, thicker and harder it got, as waves of mind searing pleasure began to emanate from it. I flexed and watched the muscle mountains explode out of my arms, then I felt the hardness of my giant pecs and ran my hand over the stone-like ridges of my abs. My new giant cock grew as hard as steel! Oh fuck, I’d never felt anything thing like this before. I mean, I’d been hard before, gotten off before, lots of times, but this… My entire hugely powerful body was practically shaking with the sensation. I felt like I was about to blow! And all this from just staring at myself. And then Troy was there, taking me into his mouth, sucking, licking. I never took him for a cock sucker, but then I guess there’d never been a cock quite like mine, attached to a gigantically muscled, heaving frame like mine. My hands found the top of his head and I started messaging his short, spikey haired scalp while he worked on my impossibly huge and engorged member. I was in that state where you desperately want to release, but you know as soon as you do it will be over, so you hold back. I kept staring in the mirror at my gigantic body, periodically flexing my massively muscled arms, my bowling ball pecs, and running my hands over Troy’s wide rippling back, all while feeling my member throb and pulse with impossibly intense waves of pleasure, building and building and building until I just couldn’t hold back any longer. “AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH FUCK!” I shouted as I came with the force of a freight train, knocking Troy to the floor, and overloading my own pleasure centers nearly to the point of losing consciousness. I don’t know how long I stood there, lingering in the throbbing, pulsing, post orgasmic sensation, before it faded to the point where coherent thought became possible. Troy was picking himself up, and wiping himself off with the towel we’d brought down for the workout. “Please don’t tell anyone about that,” he said looking up at me, nervously. “Tell them about what?” I said, winking at him. “Thanks,” he said. “I’m starving,” I said. “How about you?” “I could eat,” he said, and the two of us thundered up the stairs to the kitchen. Troy stayed with me most of the day, but he left before my parents got home. He figured I’d have enough to explain without him being there and he was right. Did they freak? You betcha! But in the end they accepted me. What else could they do? They took me to see a doctor who looked over my chart as he looked me over and over and over. At one point the nurse brought in a step ladder so he could look in my ears. When he was done he said in a sagely tone, “I see from the school nurse you’ve been on steroids. You should stay away from them. They’re not good for you.” Then he prescribed post cycle therapy. And that was that. When I returned to school the next week, there was something of a commotion as you might guess. But, I figured they’d get used to me in time. The best part was Ralphie. I was 2 feet taller than him now and weighed 6 or 7 times as much, all of it raging, bulging, rippling muscle. Ha! My fucking right arm was bigger than his entire body. My gigantic, veiny bicep was bigger around than his puny torso! “So Ralphie,” I boomed, grinning evilly. “Want to talk about whose bigger now?” Guess what? He didn’t. Graduation came and Troy won his bet. Of course he did, I was way bigger than Ralphie, Simon and all three jocks put together! One dollar. That’s right, this whole thing had been about one dollar. Fuck. I saw a lot of Troy that summer. We did a lot of… experimenting. In between, he taught me a thing or two about wresting. Troy really seemed impressed with my size and power. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t get some of the blue shit for himself. But since I kind of liked being the gigantic one, I never really suggested it to him. And in the autumn, we went our separate ways to separate schools at separate ends of the country. I fully expected to never see him again. Thanks to his training and my ridiculous size, I got on the collage wresting team. But they had trouble matching me with opponents. Finally they lined up a match for me. I couldn’t wait to meet this other behemoth. I showed up at the gym was looking around when suddenly I felt this huge hand on my massive shoulder. I turned around and there stood a man every bit as gigantic and bulging with massive muscles as I was. That monstrous body was a stranger to me, but not the face that sat on top of it. “How ya doin’, Maggot,” said Troy. “I hope you brought your A game.” THE END

Hey. A new story. This one's a bit of an experiment. -X- ==== Really? No? Look, it's fine if you're iffy on the whole proposition. I know it sounds like bullshit. So let me tell you about Joey's story. It all started when he decided to juice, which probably tells you a bit about him. You'd be right if you guessed he was on the small side, back then. Like you. Not scrawny, no. He worked out too much for that, and 167 pounds lean and pumped at 5'7 isn't a bad build, even if he did claim to be 5'8 most of the time. He worked hard for that inch: wore thick-soled shoes; spiked his hair. But he worked out with Trevor Millar, so he could be excused for feeling a bit inadequate. You don't remember Trevor? Right, of course. He moved away last year. BMOC for as long as anyone could remember. Tall; a bit over six feet, and he'd been lifting since he was a kid and it showed. That platinum blond hair and dark tan of his were the perfect complements to the body of your dreams. Huge chest, lean waist; bis that popped like baseballs when he flexed. And let's face it--when wasn't Trevor flexing? Or shirtless. The word around town was that he was allergic to shirts. So, like I was saying, the two of them worked out together. For a while it was good for them both. They pushed each other. They grew. The problem was that Trevor always grew more. Faster. And that's why, earlier in the week, Trevor had told Joey they couldn't work out together any more. "You'd only be holding me back," he'd said. That's why Joey got the juice. He wouldn't say where he got it from, exactly. Never did. But here in San Cristobal, things like this happen, and you just start to accept that it's how things are. The Saturday that it all went down, Joey showed up to Trevor's place with white smile and a hard glint in his eye. When Trevor opened the door, Joey barely noticed. That wasn't like Joey, not at all. He always went a bit wide-eyed around Trevor. Let him take the lead when hanging out, or in the gym. In bed, too, but they'd stopped doing that when Trevor had gotten bored and moved on to bigger and better guys that were more his taste. Trevor wasn't wearing much beyond a pair of gym shorts that day. He folded his arms across his chest, the huge globes tightening with his irritation. His arms flexed dangerously, the blue veins straining under the skin. He wasn't used to being disregarded. He took note of what had superseded his presence in Joey's attention. The smaller jock was cradling a leather-bound case in his hand. He kept stroking the clasp on it. It was only when the weight of Trevor's glower fell upon him that he looked up at last. "Hey dude. Can I come in?" he asked, and pushed past Trevor into his untidy apartment without waiting for a response. That didn't improve Trevor's mood any. It was messy inside, but not much more than usual. A half-drank protein shake on the den table and some weights scattered on the ground, right next to a mirror so that Trevor could watch himself lift. The weights were more than Joey could lift for sure. And the place smelled like man. A bit of musk, some sweat, the faint hint of laundry waiting to be done. Nothing too foul, just unabashedly masculine. It normally sent a little jolt straight to Joey's groin, and sometimes enough so that he had to hide his body's reaction, but to be honest, he didn't have much down there to conceal. Not then, anyway. "What's up with you?" Trevor asked. His eyes followed Joey's fingers as they traced over the case. He was pretty horny that day, and wondered if they wouldn't look better stroking him off. "I finally got this stuff," said Joey, almost as if he was talking to himself. "Been looking for it for a while, but this dealer I know came through." For a second, Trevor thought he meant drugs. Then, awareness dawned. "You're doing 'roids, bro?" That brought Joey out of it. With a deft flick of his wrist, he popped the case open. Whatever was inside didn't look like steroids. There were just two pencil-thin syringes. The liquid inside them was a bit greyish, a bit glittery, like liquid metal. Quicksilver, but darker. "Fuck no, man. This is way stronger; way faster," Joey said. "It's just... a bit of a gamble, that's all." The first part of his proposal had enticed Trevor, but the second, well, that didn't sound good. He scrunched up his features. Even making a face, he was beautiful. Bronzed skin, rosy lips, blue eyes the color of calm seas. A little too pretty for a guy his size, but no one was stupid enough to say it. "What do you mean?" Joey shrugged. "Doesn't work for everyone, the guy said. And if it doesn't--" "Well, that's fucking dumb," Trevor thundered. "Sounds like a good excuse for when it doesn't work. How do you know it won't kill you?" He reached for the case. Joey yanked it away. "It's not gonna. I trust my guy." He didn't sound so sure. "Whatever, man," said Trevor, rolling his eyes. "If you think it'll help you keep up. I clearly don't need the shit." He flexed to prove his point, bringing his big split biceps peak up in front of Joey's face. That pulled the smaller guy's eyes away from his new juice. It also had the reaction that Trevor had been looking for. The smallest hint of movement stirred in Joey's shorts. "Wow," said Joey, in spite of himself. "You're bigger." "Always. Hey, I was thinking. I'm a little bit horny," said Trevor. He reached down with one hand and adjusted his bulge lewdly. Still completely soft, the thick tube of meat hung a good way down his thigh. Trevor was gifted everywhere. Even at his softest, he was longer and wider than Joey was hard. And at its full size, Trevor's beast was-- "No, bro. I wanna try this stuff here with you. That's why I brought it," Joey said. "Like I said..." "Fine. You don't have to try it," said Joey. "More for me, I guess." Without waiting for any more argument, Joey set the case down on the messy table. He pried one of the syringes free and brought it up to the light, flicking it with his fingertip like he'd seen mad scientists do on TV. Maybe it was a bit crazy, but as his eyes drifted back to his behemoth of a buddy, he knew what he had to do. Like he'd been told, he jabbed the syringe into the flesh of his shoulder and squeezed the plunger until it wouldn't go down any more. He shivered. "You all right?" Trevor asked, evincing a rare bit of concern. He had a look on his face like Joey might keel over at any second, but as seconds passed and that didn't happen, his features settled back into vague disinterest. "Yeah, feels fine. Like any other shot I've ever had," Joey said. He sounded a bit distracted. Trevor shrugged his boulder-like shoulders. "So you going to keep on it for a few weeks, see what it does?" Joey frowned. "No, he said it oughtta be instant. Do I look any bigger to you?" He flexed his own arm and looked down at it. It was a nice ball of muscle, if you were into that sort of thing, but no bigger than before. Just fourteen and a half inches, where it had been stuck for months. "You got robbed. Hope you didn't pay too much. Guess you're gonna have to get big the hard way," Trevor couldn't resist the mocking smirk that twisted his lips. But then Joey grunted. It sounded like the wind had been knocked out of him. Trevor's sneer faltered. "What's wrong?" "Nothing," said Joey. Gasped, really. "Feels really good, actually." He grunted again, and this time a spasm seemed to go through his body, like all his small and well-toned muscles were clenching at once, even his still-flexed arm. Especially his arm, which seemed to flex a little harder and rise a little higher, and didn't go back down when the spasm had spent itself. Trevor reached out to touch it without asking. His big, callused hand easily spanned the solid rise of muscle. It still wasn't especially large, but he found himself wondering if it was just a bit bigger than before. Had it always been so hard? He knew Joey had been working his ass off lately. The next spasm answered his questions. It surged through Joey, rocking his body, much more intense than its predecessors. As it passed through little Joey, he seemed to swell, expanding in every direction. Broader, thicker, even taller. His arm, still in Trevor's grip, piled on an inch of mass easily. More, it hardened, turning to concrete beneath his workout buddy's fingers. Trevor's hand fell away, shaking. Disbelief made his eyes wide and his face pale. "Fuck yeah, man!" That was all Joey could manage between spasms. Another one hit, and his toes burst through tennis shoes suddenly too small for his growing feet. A second, and seams popped along the shoulders and arms of his shirt. With the third, his grunts dropped in pitch from tenor to rich baritone. It looked like he should be in pain, with his body twisting and transforming, muscles reshaping themselves and pressing their jagged striations up under his skin. But pleasure drowned out whatever pain Joey felt, a fact made clear by the steel-hard impression of his average member pressed up against the fabric of his gym shorts. They were increasingly inadequate as his ass swelled into two spheres of solid muscle. He stretched up to his full height. To Trevor's shock, 'little' Joey's eyes were just a shade below his own. When Joey groaned once more, Trevor braced himself to see his formerly small partner surpass him. He held his breath. But Joey didn't get any taller or any broader. Instead, his cock twitched in his shorts. He threw his head back, moaning as if he might cum. Instead, the shape of his dick lengthened and widened, straining out like a water balloon. Another jerk and it swelled again, going from average to thick, and by the third, it strained toward his waist. The changes subsided abruptly, leaving him gasping and swaying and his shorts drenched with a torrent of precum. When at last he came to himself, Joey saw Trevor still shocked and staring. Trevor, who'd always seemed impossibly large, who was now not that much bigger than the new and improved Joey. Trevor, whose gaze was developing a tinge of envy. Trevor, whose impossible cock was at full mast in his shorts. Over Joey, and the stud he had become. As Joey regarded his gym partner, still riding the wave of hormones and adrenaline from his incredible transformation, he felt that something familiar was missing. It took him a moment, and then he realized what it was. He'd always been a little afraid of Trevor whenever they'd spent time together. Whether it was their size difference, or his larger friend's somewhat mercurial temper, all of their interactions had been drenched in an undercurrent of fear. And now that fear was gone. "You like what you see?" Joey asked, ego buoyed by endorphins and newfound confidence. He tried to lift his shirt, but it was much too small for that. Painted on, almost. So he reached up, and with boldness that surprised even he, tore it at the neck. It ripped like tissue paper, revealing two heaving pecs bulging beneath a thin dusting of dark hair. Below them were eight perfect abdominals, marching downward toward his groin with the precision of a perfectly cobbled path. He couldn't wait to see his new cock. So he didn't. He peeled his precum-soaked shorts away from his Adonis belt and tugged them down, which wasn't easy given the mass of his legs and muscle ass. It was so worth it. His hands had grown along with him. Whereas before, he'd been able to stroke his dick with a few fingers, now it took both hands to span the shaft. There were at least a couple inches of hot, veiny meat extending beyond them. And good luck closing those fingers around the tower of flesh. It was way too thick for that now. In that time, Trevor had recovered. "My turn," he said. He grabbed the second syringe. Joey reached for it, but Trevor swiped it away. "You said I could have it." "You didn't want it," said Joey. "I do now," said Trevor. He jammed it into his shoulder and injected the grey gunk inside. All the old feelings flooded back into Joey: the fear, the jealousy, the frustration. He'd come over meaning to share the experience with Trevor, but now that he was finally on par with his friend, he liked it. And now Trevor would be the big guy again, except this time, he'd be gigantic. Trevor, for his part, seemed eager to reestablish his dominance. Deep blue eyes shining with triumph, he cast the syringe aside and hiked his shorts down with his thumbs. His double-digit dick thwacked against his belly. Even the new Joey had to marvel its length and width. "Let's see how big you got, stud," said Trevor, adding a teasing, "While we're still close in size." He reached out and grabbed Joey's dick, pressing the two oversized cocks against each other. To Joey's shock, his was nearly as long as Trevor's, and maybe just a bit wider. Even after all that change, Joey was still second best. Trevor was still a little broader, about an inch taller. Still the better man. Trevor grinned at him. "I think I feel it starting." And then something happened that neither of them expected. Trevor's body spasmed all over, ripping the breath from his lungs. When the fit passed, he found that he was staring at Joey dead in the eyes. Well, that wasn't right. He glanced down, thinking that Joey was standing on the tips of his toes, or maybe wearing those thick-soled shoes he'd always worn to boost his height. But no, Joey's feet were flat on the ground. And they were bare, his ruined shoes on the ground nearby. With a wave of weakness, the room spun around him. When he was able to collect his thoughts, Joey was supporting him with one big hand on Trevor's arm. That hand looked bigger than it had before. "What the fuck?" Trevor asked. "I took the shit. Why are you growing again?" Joey hesitated for a heartbeat, a specter of his old fear staying his tongue. "I don't think I'm changing. You are," he said, at last. "That's not how this shit works!" Joey backed away, and Trevor stumbled. "I tried to say--" "You what!?" "It's a bit of a gamble, the guy said. Some people have an inverse reaction," Joey managed, his features going rigid with horror as Trevor slipped down another inch or two. Then Trevor made his second big mistake. He took a swing at Joey. Joey caught the fist easily. In fact, he was shocked that it had been so easy. Trevor had always seemed like a giant bull, unstoppable in his power. But at that moment, it dawned on Joey that he was the bigger man. He was in control. Trevor took the lesson a bit more slowly. His hands scrabbled for purchase but found only sweat-slicked bulges of hot muscle. That was his second mistake, because the writhing of his dwindling body only served to turn Joey on. "C'mon," Joey said, his rush of confidence rekindling. Trevor wrestling against his body with such futility made him feel almost godlike. And like a god, he decided to take what he wanted. Trevor's tremendous cock bounced as Joey hefted him in the air with surprising ease. He wondered, absently, how much mass Trevor had lost already. The change seemed to be slowing, now, but he couldn't be much larger than Joey had been before. All rational thought left the moment the head of his new-grown dick found Trevor's hole. The former jock's cursing and struggles halted in one cry of mingled pain and pleasure as Joey pushed in. It didn't take Joey long. He used Trevor, holding him easily aloft. Only a few long thrusts into his tight ass, and Joey's long-held load churned up in his balls, molten and white hot. Trevor came first. With every spurt that sprayed out of his cock, it wilted a bit, until it didn't look very impressive at all. And for Joey, that was all it took. He was the bigger man. Bigger and better in every way. That sent him over the edge, his cock bucking and filling Trevor with his seed. The orgasm stretched on into forever. When it was all over with, Trevor huddled up on the couch, staring at Joey with a mixture of hate and envy as he tried on one of Trevor's tank tops. It fit, and that just made Joey smile. He wanted to feel bad, but everything that had happened, Trevor had done to himself. Minus the last part, of course, and that wasn't anything they hadn't done together dozens of times before. So, he was pretty much done with guilt when he turned to Trevor and said, "I'm going to go to the gym. I'd invite you, but you know how it goes. You'd only be holding me back." And that's how Joey got big, and how Trevor got small. Yeah, it's a gamble, but you look like the gambling type. The price? Negotiable. Really, the important part is that there's one big rule. You don't tell anyone where you got it. Just like Joey. You don't, because that could mess with what we're setting into motion here, and the boss wouldn't like that at all. No, no. I'm not threatening. Just saying. He's been working at this for a while, ever since that mess back in '03. And, well, that's more 'need to know' information, and you... all you should care about is the fact that this little syringe has your wildest dreams in it. Or your worst nightmares, sure. But I can tell your answer already from the look in your eyes. Heck, I can practically hear you thinking it. So what do you say? Are you in?

======

Six Three weeks had passed since Ted installed his domination over his cousin. Ever since the pool incident Chris had tried avoiding his 5 year younger cousin as much as possible. Every time he left the house, he scanned the street through the window and then rushed to his car to speed off. Two weeks ago, his cousin had nearly surprised him as he wanted to drive away. The huge teen had appeared behind Chris' car and had effortlessly lifted its back tires off the ground. He had shaken the car up and down, his huge traps bulging in the process, while laughing deeply. After several minutes, he had dropped the car, making it slam down hard and had then slammed his fist against the door at Chris's side, denting it. He had looked smirkingly at his cousin through the window as Chris sped away. Worst of all was the presence of Trisha. She kept going on and on about Ted's fantastic body and how much bigger than Chris he was everywhere. Chris then just nodded and went on the prepare her food: Ted had ordered him to take care off his girl and he didn't want to risk making her upset. Or even worse: making her tell his cousin she was upset… Jeremy wandered into his gym full of energy. The voodoo curse he'd cast on his rival had reached its climax at the last full moon, 5 days ago. He had drained 40 more pounds of muscle from Chris, now weighing in at 265 pounds of ripped beef. "I now exactly weigh what Ted weighs", he said to himself as he looked at the teen's stats on the enlistment form, "Time to make clear who's in charge here. I'll first whoop his ass and then steal his muscles too. I'll be the biggest champ ever seen!". His 6 incher throbbed in his pants at the thought and he went into his office to search for the second voodoo doll and the spell. Chris awoke from a restless sleep. Last night, he had gone to bed early in the guestroom as usual. A few minutes later, he had heard his cousin's heavy steps entering the house and his deep voice chatting to Trisha's high-pitched one. He'd hidden under his sheets when the heavy footsteps climbed the stairs and slowly strutted passed his door. He'd heard the lust in Trisha's voice and her animal grunts as they went at it. Five times, Ted's load, deep roars had echoed through the house and shaken his bones before everything went silent. Chris rubbed the sleep from his bloodshed eyes and listened. He could hear voices coming from the master bedroom. "Is there no satisfying you, beast?", Trisha asked as she noticed the thick pole tenting the sheets, "We did it five times last night. That's as much as me and Chris in a week." Her hand rubbing the hard skin of the massive pec her head rested atop. "A real man can go at it whenever he wants", Ted replied, "ya're not used to one, that's all." He caressed his frail girl's back, his big paw covering it nearly completely. "Let's go for another round", he said and easily lifted the 120 pound girl up with his left paw. "I just can't", Trisha said, "I'm still stretched out from last night. How about tonight?". "Fine, then suck me off", Ted stated and lowered her atop his beastly frame. Trisha gulped but her lust for his majestic body and the look in the teen beast's eyes made her obey. She crawled down over his eight-pack, passed the fleshy pole that pointed straight up and tried wiggling in between the two insanely thick thighs. A grin appeared on Ted's face as his girl tried budging his strong legs. The huge quads didn't budge. He opened his legs to make room for her and placed his hands behind his head, making his beastly biceps bulge in the process. Trisha's eyes widened as she noticed the perfectly round orbs of beef atop the teen's huge arms but quickly turned her focus on the job at hand as he nodded down to her. She grabbed the hot, rock-hard shaft with both hands and jerked it with all her force. Ted's grin got larger as he noticed the hands of his girl not even spanning half the girth of his huge cock. The thick, engorged shaft didn't move: the 120 pound girl was too weak to stroke his hard dick. Trisha sat up a bit to get a better grip and tried applying more force. Her head began turning red from the effort. Ted pulled his right paw from behind his head, grabbed his girl's head and pushed it down on his cock. "No", Trisha mumbled, "it's too big". She fought back with all the force in her body, but the teen's right arm overpowered her completely. Her face was pushed onto the dark red, big, engorged head of the thick cock. Ted ignored her and pushed her face down on his dick, the huge head sliding into her mouth. Trisha gagged as the teen's huge cock invaded her mouth. She tried resisting but she knew she was completely at the beast's mercy. The head and two inches of the shaft filled her mouth completely and she sucked with everything she got. Ted held the 120 pound girl's mouth atop his dick and began exploring his own protruding, thick muscles with his left paw. He felt excitement tickle his big balls as he pinched his hard nipples. His left paw descended further, traced the ridges of his strong, yet protruding abs and grabbed his rock-hard shaft. He began pumping along the thick, long shaft. "YEEAUGHN!", he bellowed deeply as his balls exploded and blasted their sticky load through his cock into Trisha's mouth. Trisha's mouth was filled completely with half of the teen beast's first load, cum dripped from the corner's of her mouth and leaked from her nose as more thick spunk blasted from the throbbing shaft. Gagging noises would have escaped her mouth if had been stretched around the thick pole. "Yeaughn!", Ted bellowed once more as more cum blasted from his cock into Trisha. He marveled at his own prowess as his balls kept retracting to rush out more loads. He saw cum now flowing steadily from his girl's mouth, nose and even out her ears. He pulled her from his cock as she fell limp and blasted five more loads against the ceiling before his orgasm cooled down. "Time for my morning swim", he rumbled and got up from the bed. He pulled on his skintight boxers and strutted out of the room, not even looking back at the worn out Trisha. Chris hid under his sheets as he heard Ted's load, deep roar filling the master bedroom. He crawled deeper when his cousin's heavy footsteps resounded in the hallway, praying that the giant wouldn't enter. He exhaled deeply at the sound of the backdoor being slammed shut. He waited for a few more minutes before leaving his bed. He cautiously opened the door of the guestroom, looked around to check if things were safe and walked into the hallway. He moved toward the bathroom for his morning shower. A faint sound made him freeze in his tracks and he pressed himself against the wall. Trisha had regained consciousness after having serviced the beastly teen. She whipped the stains of sticky cum from her face and looked at the clock. "Shit! I'm late for work", she yelled out and rushed into the bathroom at a pace her wobbly legs permitted. She quickly washed her face, got dressed and hurried down the stairs. Chris let out a deep breath from relief as Trisha hadn't noticed him. He waited until he heard her car drive off before continuing to move. He knew he was safe for the rest of the day. He entered the bathroom and caught his reflection in the large, 7 feet mirror covering the wall on his left. The man, wearing a somewhat too big pair of pajamas, looked nothing like the proud athlete that flexed and inspected his buff physique daily until two weeks ago. Chris sighed and quickly looked away from the depressing image. His hand reached for the top button of his pajama shirt as he moved away from the mirror. He tossed his pajamas in the furthest corner and stepped to the shower. He looked down to avoid his naked reflection in the mirror when a movement outside attracted his attention. He moved toward the window and looked down at the garden. Ted had gone home to inject his now swollen balls with his daily double dose of the new, designer steroid his wimpy housemate was providing him. As usual, he felt the energy coursing through his huge body as soon as he emptied the needle in his balls. He walked out and dove into the pool. Swimming lap after lap, his strong muscles propelling his beastly frame through the water. After 15 minutes, a mild burning sensation spread across his wide back as a soft pump build inside the hard masses of bulging muscles. He slowly swam toward the side and easily pulled his body from the water, his thick arms flexing in the process. Chris stared in awe at his younger cousin's big body as it rose from the water; it looked bigger than any body he'd ever seen, including his own at his prime. He gulped when he noticed the thick triceps exploding outward out the back of his arms as the teen got up from the pool. Water slid down along the crevices separating the mounds of hard muscle that bulged against each other across the insanely wide back, topped with thick rising traps. Ted enjoyed the mild pump after his swim and casually groped his huge muscles. His right paw roamed the hard shelf of protruding meat on his chest while his left paw slid down and grabbed hold of his own beefy ass, clenching the muscle to test its hardness. Chris' eyes widened at the scene unfolding next to the pool. His hand instinctively reached down and grabbed his cock. He slowly stroked his inflating shaft as he gazed at the show below the window. He had never been turned on by a guy or any of his muscular opponents, but his younger cousin's freakish frame filled with hulking muscle sent unknown urges through him. Ted released his pecs and flexed his right arm, enjoying how the thick bicep swelled with girth as he brought in his fist. He turned around and went into a most muscular, making striations and veins being pushed up by his big muscles against his skin. Chris gasped as his cousin turned around and feared that the huge teen had seen him. His heartbeat calmed down a bit as he saw his cousin continuing his poses. He kept stroking his cock at the explosion of muscles hardening all over the wide frame of his cousin. Ted raised his arms and threw a mindboggling double bicep. His tree-sized arms swelling into round, orbs of power next to his head. Chris' hand frantically pumped his cock, but it only got half-hard. He moved away from the window filled with frustrations. Even though he'd lost 70 pounds of muscle, his cock seemed to have retained its size. But ever since his mysterious shrinking had worn off, he had never gotten fully hard again. "What's wrong with me?", he asked himself as he kept stroking his cock for several minutes without getting it fully hard or even getting off, his mind filled with the images of his cousin's body. "DID YA ENJOY DA SHOW, CHRISSY?" Jeremy was going through his desk in search of the second voodoo doll and the spell. "Where did I put those things?", he asked himself as he emptied the last drawer atop the wooden desk. He quickly checked the few items that fell out, swiped them back into the drawer and placed it back in the desk. He turned around and pulled open the metal closet only to find it empty. "I've got to have the spell to drain that kid's muscles too", Jeremy said to himself. He slammed the closet shut and turned around, when his eyes caught a piece of paper lying under his desk. He picked it up and felt the blood freeze in his veins as he read it. It was a repo document that contained a complete list with all the things that had been impounded a few weeks ago when he was away for his contest. Jeremy pulled out his phone and called the number marked on the paper. The deep, bellowing voice echoed against the tilled walls and made Chris jump up. He turned around, his hand still stroking his half-hard cock. His cousin was standing in the hallway, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist and looked straight at him. 'Wh… What do you mean?", he asked as he released his dick and placed both his hands in front of it. "Come on, little guy", Ted rumbled, "Ya think I didn't see ya looking?". "I… ehm… I saw something move outside and… ehm… wanted to check if everything was ehm… okay", Chris blurted out. "Ya've been staring at me every morning since last week, Chrissy", Ted growled. "Ehm… I…", Chris said, his face turning red as his cousin looked straight into his eyes. A grin formed on Ted's lips at his cousin's reaction. "No worries, little guy", he stated, "ya're right to admire perfection." Ted stepped into the bathroom. Chris stepped back instinctively as his huge cousin entered the bathroom. "Fucking small door", Ted said as he moved slightly sideways. Chris gulped: his cousin was too wide to fit normally through the doorway, his broad shoulders brushed the doorway in the process. Chris' mouth fell open a bit as he took in the teen's massiveness: Ted's shoulders were half again as wide as the doorway. He took another step back as the teen beast stood only a few feet from him and seemed to fill the entire bathroom with his presence. His cousin's body looked huge as he had stared at it through the window, but up close it looked simply beyond human. The tree-sized, massive arms that hung relaxed at the teen's sides, were round and hard, stretching the thin skin tight across the meaty masses that formed his triceps and biceps; the three heads of the round, freakishly wide canon ball-sized delts were clearly separated from each other by deep cuts etching into the shoulder; his pecs jutted forward from his chest and formed a muscular shelf obscuring the top of the beast's stomach, but the thick muscles looked somehow less impressive trapped between the bulging arms and the insanely broad and perfectly round shoulders; his stomach was a somewhat bloated eight-pack of cobblestone-sized abs divided by grooves; his strong looking neck reminded off a bull by the uprising, meaty traps; even while the beastly teen was fully relaxed, a thick vein prominently snaked along the meaty masses of his biceps, over the hard surface of his wide, front delt onto his chest, several smaller veins branching from it into the muscles. Chris' mouth had gradually opened more and more as his eyes scanned his younger cousin's godly torso. His hands moved away to reveal his cock as his arms just hung next to him. The smug grin on Ted's lips widened further as he noticed his cousin's reaction. "Ever seen a body so huge, so hard, so muscular, so … perfect on stage, cuz?", Ted asked and scratched the back of his head with his right paw, making his right bicep mound up an revealing his deep armpit in the process. Chris just stared at the mound of muscle atop the teen beast's arm, veins exploding across its surface as the mass of hard meat bulged into a football-sized orb. The wave of musky scented heat emanating from the teen's hairy armpit, filled his nose. Goosebumps appeared all over Chris' body as the heat and manly odor of his cousin enveloped him. His cock rose to the occasion, its 7 inches protruding in a hard salute from his pelvis. "Star of da family getting off on my huge body?", Ted asked sarcastically as he saw his cousin's cock inflate, "lucky ya never were up against real men, champ. Ya would have boned up on stage. I should enter a contest too. Would blow all them wimpy boys away. What ya think, cuz?". Ted finished scratching his head, lowered his right arm and playfully clenched his fist, making his thick tricep explode in vein-choked hardness at the back of his tree-sized arm. "Ehm… you … ehm… your chest lagging a bit", Chris replied automatically. "MY CHEST? LAGGING?", Ted bellowed angrily, his deep voice rumbling against the tilled walls and filling the bathroom and his face turned red. "I … ehm… mean to compete…", Chris blurted out, jumping up at the teen beast's reaction. "Let's see who's lagging!", Ted boomed and went into a most muscular. His traps jumped upward, pressing into his broad neck; his freakishly wide delts hardened into steely cannonballs as its three heads swelled and pushed more veins up against his paper thin skin; his beastly arms turned into concrete hardness as his biceps balled up and pushed into his protruding chest; veins and striations exploded all over his powerful pecs; below the hard rack of muscle, his eight-pack turned into an armor-like wall of cobblestone-sized muscles. "I … ughn", Chris mumbled at the symphony of muscular perfection that erupted in front of him. His balls drew tight and his hard shaft throbbed as his 7 incher blasted out a patheticly small load into the towel that was still wrapped around his cousin's waist. One small load was all that his balls could produce and his cock already began deflating slowly. Chris lowered his head in shame. "HAHAHA", Ted's deep, roaring laughter rattled the bathroom as he relaxed his pose and saw the small amount of cum dripping along his towel. "Too much perfection for ya, Chrissy?", he said grinningly, then added: "flex yar pecs". "Huh?", Chris muttered and looked up into his cousin's eyes. "Ya said my puny pecs were lagging, cuz", Ted replied, "Let's see da champ's chest. Now flex!". His cousin's loud command made Chris shiver slightly and he automatically obeyed the teen beast. He brought his hands together in front of his diminished abs and flexed his chest. His flattened chest hardened a bit but the layer of fat coating his body didn't let any veins or striations appear. "Wow, an excuse for a chest", Ted said with his smug grin, took a step toward Chris and put his left paw atop his cousin's pecs, covering them almost completely. Chris sighed as his cousin's paw made contact with his flexed chest. He could feel the beastly teen's strength through the relaxed palm. He peeped in pain as his cousin playfully clenched his thick fingers, making them sink into the flexed chest like it was butter. Chris tried relaxing his pecs, but his cousin's strong grasp simply overpowered his diminished muscles and cramped them into flexed state while crushing them. "Please, Ted, let go", Chris peeped in pain with tears leaking from the corner of his eyes as his cousin's fingers kept digging into his chest. He sighed in relief, bent over and placed his hands on his knees, gasping for air as the paw released his chest. His pecs felt completely destroyed, beyond anything he'd ever felt after any of his intense workouts. "Now ya feel my LAGGING chest, cuz", Ted bellowed. Chris got up instantly and placed his hands atop the beastly teen's protruding pecs. He gulped as he noticed that each of his hands didn't cover half of his cousin's pecs. It felt like putting his hand on concrete heated by the sun. The beefy, hard muscle radiated heat into his palms. He copied his cousin's action and clenched his hands with all his might. His eyes widened as his fingers couldn't put the slightest dent into the rock-hard surface. He tried summoning more power, his body shaking from the effort, his breathing getting faster and his face turning red. The pecs in his grasp easily withstood the attack: his fingers simply couldn't budge the hard, hot surface. He gulped as he realized the strength hidden in the teen beast. Ted's smug grin reappeared on his face as he saw his cousin struggling to dent his relaxed pecs. "Let's flex my LAGGING chest", he said as he felt his cousin starting to release his hold. He put his tree-sized arms in front of his lower abs and flexed his chest. Chris' eyes in amazement and disbelief when the concrete-hard slabs of muscle contracted under his touch. He could feel the striations and web of veins through the paper-thin skin as the thick muscles pushed them upward. His fingers were pried open by the waves going through the surface as the beastly teen bounced his chest. His flaccid cock jumped back to full hardness and throbbed wildly in the air as the powerful pecs hardened fully under his touch. "Still think my pecs are lagging, cuz?", Ted asked. Chris just nodded 'no', his fingers roaming the steely hard surface. His 7 incher throbbing some more as he traced in and out of the striations crisscrossing the shelf of hot muscle below his small looking hands. "What was yar best pose, Chrissy?", Ted demanded and bounced his pecs some more, enjoying the delicate touch on his beastly muscles. "Back double bicep", Chris replied, looking up to stare in the teen beast's eyes. "Let's see if I can match yar money shot, cuz. Ya can let go of my chest now", Ted said casually while grinning down at his smaller cousin. Chris looked at his hands and noticed they were still fixed atop the magnificent pecs. He reluctantly lowered them, his cock jolting as his cousin hardened the muscle a final time. His mouth fell open when the beastly teen turned around and exposed his back. Thick traps broadened the base of the neck and descended down toward the wide shoulders; beefy bumps of hard muscle flowed into each other all over the broad surface that formed an insane looking v-taper due to the relatively slim waist. "Ya'll have to tell me how it looks, cuz. Don't have eyes at the back of my head", Ted stated. "Ya hear me?", he asked as he didn't get any response. "Huh… ehm… yes", Chris answered, the deep voice shaking him from his wonder. "Let's do this!", Ted boomed and slowly raised his tree-sized arms next to his frame. Chris just stared as the mounds of beef atop the broad back rolled against each other, fighting for space on the massive surface. His mouth went dry when his cousin's arms were fully extended next to his freakish frame, the thick triceps hanging heavily at the back of them. His hard cock wildly rocked back and forth in the air as the teen beast brought in his forearms. Veins exploded all over Ted's bulging biceps as they mounded bigger and bigger. Chris' balls contracted painfully at the sight. The beastly teen's biceps balled up further, peaking high as he brought in his hands to flex them fully. "Ughn", Chris moaned. His balls convulsed, summoning a meager, watery load that leaked from his 7 incher. His diminished body shivered and he lost his balance. He extended his hands and placed them on the broad back for support. Ted heard his cousin's lust-filled moan and turned around. His inflating cock ripped the towel aside as it swelled with blood. He put his right paw atop his smaller cousin's shoulder and pushed slightly. Chris' knees buckled and he sank down on the floor on them. He looked straight at the teen beast's growing cock that inched toward his face. He grabbed the pillars of corded, deeply grooved muscle that were his cousin's legs for support and stared at the fleshy snake, inflating atop the low-hanging, lemon-sized balls. He was mesmerized by the hefty pole that lengthened and thickened. Veins coiled along the swelling shaft as it inched closer and closer toward his face. Ted pivoted his hips, smacking his now fully hard, 14 inch cock against his cousin's face. Chris yelped in pain as the rock-hard pipe of hot meat smacked against his left eye. Before he could pull himself away, the snake throbbed and exploded right in his face. "YEAUGHNN!", Ted groaned as his lemon-sized balls blasted out load after load of thick cum. Chris felt like he was being buried by hurricane of sticky spunk. Every time he tried to take a breath, a torrent of cum filled his nose and mouth. He was on the verge of passing out when the avalanche of cum came to an end. He inhaled deeply, filing his lungs with oxygen. He felt his cousin's paw release his shoulder and crawled backward, moving away from the still in post-orgasmic bliss teen beast, until he felt the tilled wall against his back, streams of the gluey, hot liquid slowly sliding down his drenched face and dripping onto his nearly vanished pecs. Ted noticed his cousin's retreat. He took one big stride and effortlessly pulled the small guy up as he closed the distance between them. "Where ya goin', cuz?", he asked. Chris shivered as the beastly teen put him back on his feet. "Haven't you humiliated me enough?", he peeped and spat out some cum that slipped into his mouth, "What have I done to you to deserve this?". "Ya don't remember?", Ted boomed, "Every family meeting ya were the star of the day. Everyone yakking 'Chris this and Chris that'. Every time ya had to arm wrestle the other kids, even though ya were the biggest guy." "But it was just a game", Chris interjected and looked up into his cousin's eyes. Fear filled his diminished body as he noted the dark glare. "NOT TO ME!", Ted bellowed loudly. Chris startled as the teen beast's deep voice rattled his body. "I didn't mean to hurt you", he said, "I even came to visit you in juvy." "Now it's my turn to play, cuz", Ted continued, ignoring his cousin's last remark. "What…", Chris said but stopped talking as the beastly teen's paws grabbed his waist. "Man, ya're so light, cuz. What ya weigh?", Ted asked grinningly while he effortlessly lifted his cousin up against the tilled wall. "ehm… 159", Chris replied automatically. He wiggled and wormed but his body didn't move an inch in the strong grip that nearly spanned his entire waist. His feet dangled in the air as they left the floor. "159? HAHAHA I weighed that when I was 15! Now curl 225 for reps easily. No wonder ya feel like a fucking feather", Ted bellowed laughingly and continued lifting his cousin. Chris wiggled with all his might, his hands tugging at the thick fingers encircling his waist and his legs kicking wildly in the air. His weak hands couldn't pry open the teen beast's paws and his knees felt like they hit a concrete wall as they collided with the huge quads. He looked down on the beastly teen's tree-sized arms that kept raising him higher. The muscles in the massive upper arms looked hard and round, yet showed no sign of strain whatsoever; veins snaked across the corded muscles in the thick forearms. " I'm sorry I made you feel bad. Let me go, please", he whined as he realized he was completely at the teen beast's mercy. "I'm just havin' fun, cuz. Just like ya back in the day. Nothing like dominating an opponent. Besides, looks like yar enjoying this too", Ted replied and lifted his cousin some more. Chris looked down to follow the teen beast's gaze and saw that his own cock was nearly hard again. It was already up at 5 inches and kept inflating very slowly. In a reflex, he put his hands in front of his dick. "I'ld hide it too if it was that small. Mine's bigger flaccid than yars fully hard", Ted said and held his cousin still against the tilled wall. Chris ignored the beastly teen's remark and sighed in relief as his rise came to an end. He hoped his cousin would grow tired off showing off his superb strength and let him go after this humiliation. "Huh?", he muttered as his cousin took a step closer, pressing his hard, protruding chest into his soft stomach. Chris' eyes widened in disbelief and horror as he felt the fat, hot head of the teen beast's 14 incher press against his ass. "No", he screamed and tugged frantically at the strong paws around his waist. He looked down pleadingly into his cousin's eyes but only encountered a deep, cold, dark glare. Ted just grinned smugly at his smaller cousin's feeble attempts to get free: dominating the former star of the family, that was clearly turned on by his own majestic muscles, made him harder than ever before. He pushed his hips up and yanked his arms down, driving his 14 incher into his cousin. "NOOOOO…UGH" Chris' painful, high-pitched squeal flew through the bathroom as the searing, thick spear invaded his intestines. He clenched his ass, his entire body in defense but the fleshy battering ram simply overpowered him. His ass felt like it was going to be ripped open by the girth of the beastly teen's massive cock; he felt it stretch wider and wider with every inch of rock-hard meat that was shoved into it. His mouth hung open in a silent scream, his eyes closed and his faced contorted as agony pumped through his frail, 159 pound body and his arms hung limp at his sides as his defenses were being obliterated and his body was shoved down. He felt the teen beast's pubes brush against his frail ass as the last inch of the massive cock entered him. The sharpest pang ended. Chris took in a deep breath and reopened his eyes, his heart beating in his ears. "Remember how I dominated yar puny ass three ago, cuz?", Ted asked while looking slightly up in his cousin's eyes and grinning smugly as he noticed his cousin's nod, " I'm 80 fucking pounds bigger now. 362 pounds of pure, rock-hard, beefy muscles. More than twice yar size, cuz." Ted released his cousin's waist and took another step closer to the wall, trapping his cousin's body between his own beastly frame and the tilled wall. "Yeahgn", he groaned as his smaller cousin's body spasmed around his 14 incher. Chris' mind was swirling with the most intense pain he'd ever felt, overwhelmed him. Other sensations mixed with the excruciating pain as the beastly teen's protruding pecs shoved him against the wall. A jolt went through his still swelling cock when he realized that the tilled wall against his back felt softer than the wall of muscle in front of him. His muscles twitched as his mind processed his cousin's remark: the kid that was five years younger than him had evolved from a puny pencil into a beastly god that outweighed him by 200 pounds of pure muscle. His now hard 7 incher smacked against the hard cobblestone-sized abs of the eight-pack in front of him when he fathomed he was supported by his cousin's cock and pecs. His eyes wandered the wall of muscle that trapped him and widened as they took in how the beastly teen outsized and dwarfed his own body: the teen's waist was as wide as his own diminished shoulders and led up to a pair of insanely broad, cannonball-sized, perfectly round shoulders, half again as wide as a door. His ass clenched around the throbbing pole as another jolt of pleasure mixed with the pain. "Yeahgn", Ted grunted as he saw the look of admiration in his smaller cousin's eyes. His 14 incher jolted in the pleasantly tight ass as he installed his full domination and took over the spot of the fallen star. He automatically raised his arms for a victory flex. Chris' eyes widened like saucers and his mouth hung open as the teen beast flexed his tree-sized arms. Veins snaked across the wide lats that presented themselves at the side of the broad back; the thick, horseshoe-shaped triceps hung hard and low at the bottom of the impossibly bulky arms; the meaty biceps ballooned upward and outward, rising higher and higher, dwarfing footballs as the muscles hardened into their full size; The separation between the two heads was clearly visible through the paper-thin skin as the muscles swelled into their 35 inches of rock-hard, vein cobbled beef. Chris could swear he heard the satin-like skin stretch as it tried to contain the huge muscles swelling and hardening with power. His hands instinctively reached for the intimidating orbs. They trembled as they neared the magnificent muscles and felt the heat produced by them. "Wow… ughn", he groaned when his small hands made contact with the concrete-hard, bigger-than-footballs muscles. His 7 incher instantly smacked wildly against the armor-like eight-pack and his puny balls spewed a watery load of cum against the ridged stomach. Ted felt the dribble against his cobblestone-sized abs and the frail touch of his elder cousin on his rock-hard biceps. The thought of completely dominating the fallen star of the family and dwarfing him like a ragdoll with his own 362 body sent him over the edge. His lemon-sized balls churned and orgasm flooded his divine frame as his cock exploded and his body hardened fully. "YEEAAUUGGHHNNN!!!!!!!!!!!", he roared in deep, all-consuming pleasure and blasted the first of a long series of loads into his frail cousin. Chris felt like riding a wild bull, his 159 pound body shaking back and forth violently on the rhythm imposed by the beastly teen's 14 incher that filled him with sticky, liquid heat. His hands kept groping the flexed, spasming biceps, unable to dent the stone-like surface and being pried open by the sheer force of the spasms shooting through them. His hard 7 incher smacked against the armor-like, deeply grooved eight-pack. The protruding shelf of pecs pressing him against the tilled wall, flexed in unison with the other majestic muscles on the teen beast's 362 pound body and crushed his own meager chest. "YEAAUUGGHHNN!", Ted kept roaring as his 14 incher blasted out angry load after angry load of thick spunk into his smaller cousin. He felt the smaller guy's small dick drum against his strong stomach and pressure build along his throbbing, thick shaft as it pumped more cum into the small guy. After 10 big loads, his most intense orgasm ever cooled down and he looked at his cousin. A grin appeared on his sweat-drenched face as he noticed that the small guy was still groping his massive arms. "Know yar place now, cuz?", he asked as he controlled his breathing. Chris looked into the teen beast's eyes and nodded. He let his now bloated body be pulled from the still hard pole and sighed in pain as the pleasure left him. He crashed down on the floor, sticky cum flowing steadily from his devastated ass, his body worn out by the fucking of a lifetime and stared up at the beastly teen that strutted away slowly and entered the shower. He passed out with the sound of water raining down against the tiles. "Fine, thanks", Jeremy said and ended his call. He slammed his fist in frustration against the desk. The secretary of the repo company had told him that the stuff from his gym had indeed come in. He'd offered all of his prize money to buy it back, only to discover the bank had already used it to pay for the weights and machines still left in the gym. He'd tried to propose an advance on his prize money for the upcoming season to buy back the stuff from his desk, but unfortunately it had been sold publically a week ago. "Better focus on dominating the upcoming season with my new physique", he said to himself, "And move away from that crazy teen beast since I can't steal his muscles too. I could train in that private gym he and Chris had given an interview before their last show.". Jeremy quickly sprinted out his gym, ducking away behind a tree when he saw the impossibly huge Ted strutting toward the building, got to his car and drove off. He quickly packed his things in his condo and drove away. After a four hour drive, Jeremy arrived at the gym owned by the main sponsor of the LTB. He entered the facility and greeted the receptionist who threw him a lust-filled look. "Come to prepare the next season?", she asked as she licked her lips playfully. "Yep. Have to keep these muscles growing", Jeremy replied and bounced his pecs under his tight shirt. "You have the place all to yourself", she replied and handed his key, "Just one other guest for the moment". "Fellow athlete?", Jeremy asked as he grabbed his bag. "Na, some guy that arrived earlier today. Says he's here to get some rest. If there's anything I can do for you, just let me know. Anything at all", the receptionist said and caressed his hand. "We'll see", Jeremy replied and winked at her. He went up the stairs to the champ suite located at the back of the only corridor on the second floor, passing the doors of the four other rooms of the hotel on his way. He entered his suite, scanned it with a smile, tossed his bag aside and got to bed to sleep off the frustration and fatigue from this day. The next morning Jeremy awoke fully recharged after his long sleep. He felt energy coursing through his body and jumped out off his bed. He pulled on his boxers, sweatpants and t-shirt. He grabbed a small towel, prepared his workout shake and left his room, eager to get to the gym. He swaggered through the hallway, enjoying the feeling of being the undisputed top dog, when the second door on his left opened and an athletish looking guy stepped into the hallway. The guy bumped into him and bounced off against the wall. "Sorry", Chris said and rubbed his shoulder as he looked at the guy in front of him. "Chris?", Jeremy asked as he stared at his former rival, "What are you doing here?". Chris recognized his eternal rival and responded automatically: "Had to get away from my cousin. He gave me a black eye". He noted how Jeremy's shoulders and pecs stretched his t-shirt and the thick arms completely filled the strained sleeves. "What happened to you, man. How did get this big?", he asked as he took in his rival's body. "Just bulking for the next season, man. Been using a new routine. Had some great results on it these last weeks. Up to 265 this morning", Jeremy replied and flexed an nicely shaped, hard, 22 inch arm to illustrate his point. "That's over a 100 pounds more than me", Chris blurted out. He stared at his rival's meaty arm, bigger, rounder and harder than his own had ever been. "I'm off to the gym. Wanna join me?", Jeremy asked and lowered his arm. "I don't know", Chris mumbled, but his now way bigger rival was already moving toward the stairs. The same lustful feelings he'd felt for his cousin's beastly body urged him to follow the big guy to see his body in action. Jeremy entered the gym, Chris following him like a puppy, and headed for the rack of dumbbells in front of the mirror. "Quick arm workout", he said as he grabbed the 30 pounders and began cranking out quick reps to warm up. Chris followed his lead, grabbed the 20 pounders and cranked out reps. He glanced at his rival and noticed the smoothness of the motion and the veins swelling along the working muscle. His own reps were far less smooth and his arms quickly began burning. He held the weights next to his body and stared at the big guy in the mirror. Jeremy enjoyed the pump spreading through his strong biceps and a grin formed on his face as he saw his fallen rival glance at him. "Let's do some real work, little guy", he said as he racked the dumbbells and grabbed hold of the 120 pounders. Chris reluctantly followed his rival's example and grabbed hold of the 50 pounders. His arms protested in agony as he lifted the dumbbells and instead he grabbed the 30 pounders. His arms, even though still 14 inches, were weaker than they looked. He struggled as he forced himself to complete the first rep. Jeremy grinned at the sight. "My warm up weight is too much for you to train with", he said as he pumped out another smooth, perfect rep. His biceps balling up, straining the sleeves of this t-shirt that retreated above the working balls of muscle; veins etching across the corded muscle on his forearms. Chris felt his dick begin to harden in his pants. He dropped the weights and rushed out off the gym, not wanting to be humiliated next to his rival. He looked back as he reached the door and saw the big guy taking off his t-shirt to continue his workout. A few hours later, Chris got back to the hotel after a long walk and went up to his room. He was about to open his door when he noticed that the door of the champ suite was slightly ajar. He couldn't resist to take a look in his former room. He carefully peeped into the apparently deserted suite and went in. He locked the door behind him not to be surprised and turned on the lights. Melancholy filled him as he thought back to the pleasant times he'd passed here. "So it's you." Chris turned aside and saw his now 100 pound bigger rival standing in the doorway to the bathroom. He simply stared at the muscular man that stepped into the suite. Jeremy was wearing nothing but his black, tight boxers, showing off his intimidating physique. He put his hands on his tight waist as he stepped to the center of the room. His broad, round shoulders formed a strong line from which hung his hard-looking, strong, meaty arms; his nicely rounded pecs protruded from his chest and made his nipples point down to the floor; his grooved six-pack rippled and flexed with every breath, veins snaking across the lowest row of the coke-can-sized muscles; his quads bulged hard and wide, stretching the fabric of his customized, black boxers. Chris ogled the spectacular body his opponent had somehow built and didn't move as his clothes were ripped away and his own body was exposed for inspection. "We're no longer in the same league", Jeremy said laughingly, "We're still the same height, but man, you look pathetic next to me. Like the 159 pound boy you are". He groped his own hard pecs and kneaded the warm muscle. Chris nodded instinctively at the big man's remark and kept taking in the beautiful sight of hard, cut, vascular muscle in front of him. His cock swelled in his briefs, tenting them as it hardened to its 7 inches. "I'm gonna strip you of all your titles. Dominating you like a 265 pound god dominates a prepubescent runt", Jeremy said and flexed his arms. Chris stared at the hard, 22 inches of beefy muscle that turned into round, vein-covered orbs atop his rivals arms. Precum leaked from his dick, forming a dark stain on his tented briefs. Jeremy noted the smaller guy's reaction and felt his own cock harden. He ripped away his own boxers, making his 7 incher smack hard against his tight six-pack. "Suck me off", he said to his fallen opponent and reached for his smaller shoulder to push him down. Chris didn't even let Jeremy touch his shoulders. He dove down onto his huge rival's cock and took it in his mouth in a swift motion. He grabbed the tight, muscular waist for support and sucked with all his might. He craved for the muscular, 265 pound body under his grasp. "Fuuuuck", Jeremy groaned by the unexpected and eager action of his fallen rival. His cock throbbed and his muscles twitched in pleasure as the little guy suck his cock voraciously. "UGHN", he boomed as his balls exploded and rushed out his loads into the hungry mouth. Chris' cock also spewed its meager load into his briefs as he sucked his rival's blasting cock. "Didn't know you liked cock that much", Jeremy said between fast breaths as he pulled his still hard cock from the smaller guy's mouth. "Best head I've ever head. Perhaps I should keep you around for that", he said and pulled up his diminished rival. Chris heard the huge guy's words and nodded in pleasure. He let him pull his 159 pound body up, enjoying how the guy dominated him. Jeremy was pulling Chris up when a sudden weakness invaded his own body. "No", he said as he felt his body shrinking. "YES" Jeremy and Chris looked at the door and saw Ted standing at it. And growing. "Found yar voodoo stuff", Ted said and opened his paw to reveal a voodoo doll dressed in Jeremy's shirt. A jolt went to his huge body and he threw back his head as his muscles swelled in size. Chris and the shrinking Jeremy rushed into the bathroom and jumped onto the escape ladder. The heard Ted's deep moans as they disappeared into the night.

The house was a wreck when we got inside. The communal bathrooms hadn't been updated in years, and the kitchen was barely functioning. As the team moved in to stake out their rooms, Colin and I retreated to the study. "Colin, this place is a disaster. Are you sure it's a good idea to move in here?" He put a hand on my shoulder, and I was immediately reassured. “I’m going to call Marcus’s father for help now.” Dan Cunitz was one of the most successful real estate developers in the state. He was also an alumnus of the school’s football team, and had been very generous to the school over the years. He had both the means and the resources to help rebuild the house. “Dan, we are going to need a complete rebuild of the bathrooms and kitchen, for starters. You WILL send over all the plumbing materials we need.” There was a pause as Dan spoke, then Colin replied: “No, not next week. Tomorrow. You will send the materials tomorrow.” I flinched a bit just overhearing Colin’s direct tone: Dan Cunitz had a well-deserved reputation as an aggressive, hard-nosed negotiator. I wasn’t sure this approach would work well with him. “You want to see what I can do with the team?” Colin said. With that, he barked at Jackson and me: “SHIRTS OFF!” Without hesitation, we obliged. I looked at Jackson and was impressed with his build. His shoulders seemed impossibly wide, with cannonball delts, a thick chest of armor, and a ripped 8-pack of abs. His biceps were huge and peaked, even while he was relaxed. He put his hands on his narrow hips and just casually flexed it all. Then he looked over and acknowledged me for the first time that day. With a blank look on his face, he put his huge hand on my neck and gave it a firm squeeze. He even reached over and slapped my hard midsection a few times, and said, “Colin did nice work on you, bro.” Even I was surprised at how my abs withstood his playful, but strong slaps. With that, Colin held up the phone, took some photos of us and sent them to Dan. I could only overhear pieces of Colin’s side of the conversation: “I can train Marcus…. In four weeks, he’ll be as big as my brother, in the photo…. at least that big, yes…. then eight weeks…. yes… 275lbs…. I know you are familiar with Jackson’s athletic record… Marcus has the potential to pass him. I know how to motivate that kind of growth, yes… but we’ll see how training goes, Marcus may not even be suited for baseball in a few months.” Did Colin just promise to have Marcus as big as me in four weeks? Bigger than Jackson in eight weeks? I knew better than to doubt him. And he had Mr. Cunitz eating out of the palm of his hand, which was probably the most impressive feat of all. There was another pause, and then I saw a knowing smile come across Colin’s face. “You can have it delivered today? That’s even better Danny-boy.” He was calling one of the most powerful men in the state Danny-boy. Even the university president addressed him as Mr. Cunitz. “Send over some staff to do the installation as well. Oh, and you’ll also have 600lbs of grass-fed beef shipped to the house each week. We need to eat well.” And in a deeper, much more authoritative tone, Colin concluded the call, while looking directly at a shirtless Jackson: “Let me know when you want to visit, I’m certain you will be pleased with the results.” Colin seemed to have an inside track on how to motivate Mr. Cunitz. Mr. Cunitz agreed to all of Colin’s demands. After the call, Colin summoned the entire team to the weight room, which was in an addition to the main house. The 6,000 square foot facility was stripped of most equipment, save for a 14-foot long pull-up rig, which was bolted to the concrete wall. “Good news. Marcus’s father has agreed to pay for the renovation of the house, which will start this afternoon. And, he will have the weight room fully functioning in a couple of days. But first we have to take down this rig.” “Colin, this rig is in perfectly good shape. It’s perfect for pull-ups, squats, and so much more. Why would you take it down?” I asked. “Jackson, show him.” Colin said. Jackson sauntered over to the rig, where the pull-up bar was eight feet off the ground. Staring right at Colin, he just reached his massive arms up and gripped the bar, with his feet planted firmly on the ground. “A pull up bar is no good if your feet can reach the ground,” Colin said, matter-of-factly. “Well not all of us have Jackson’s height, or wing span for that matter,” I interjected. “Not yet,” Colin said, with chilling confidence. “Take the rig down Jackson.” With his arms still extended overhead, Jackson tightened up all of his muscles and started to pull. At first, I thought the rig wouldn’t yield without more assistance, but Colin calmly coached Jackson: “Tighten up your core Jackson,” he said quietly. And we watched, breathlessly, as each of Jackson’s cobble stone abs activated, one by one, as he inhaled slowly, looking directly at Colin. “Now show me what those lats can do.” Jackson’s lats slowly started to flare out, as he inhaled, to immense proportions – much wider than anyone had ever seen. Colin gently placed a hand on Jackson’s upper back and softly said “That’s it Jackson, activate here now.” He started to exert all of his muscle, and after about a minute of silence, the rig started to creak. There was a loud groan coming from the concrete wall, as the iron bar started to yield to Jackson’s raw power. Jackson’s biceps, triceps and forearms were flexed up as well, showing his truly colossal muscle. The room was completely quiet except for the groaning of the rig, which steadily increased. I looked at the team, and everyone was riveted to this display of undisputed strength, most especially James, the power hitter. The cinderblock walls started to loosen, imperceptibly at first, but they slowly started to crumble. Then Colin said “NOW JACKSON, LATS!” and the whole rig separated from the concrete wall. Cinderblocks tumbled down onto the floor as each of the 16 wall fasteners popped off, sounding like gunfire, one by one. All that was left were the floor anchors. Jackson stood triumphantly under the crumpled rig, a stunning sight of 275lbs of raw muscle. His arms hung at his sides, pushed out by his still immensely flared back. His massive chest heaved slowly, as his breath started to return to normal. Jackson was about to deal with the floor anchors when James stepped forward and addressed Colin: “Let me take out the floor anchors. I want you to see what I’m capable of.” “You know the rule, James. Shirt off, and get to work.” Next to Jackson, James looked diminutive. But when he pulled the hem of his shirt over his head, he revealed a solid, dense build of 195lbs of power hitter muscle, and legs like a thoroughbred racehorse. James had a beefier build, and his neck and trap muscles were remarkable. He moved to the thick vertical bar that anchored the rig to the floor and gripped it. He got into a quarter squat, inhaled slowly and started to exert upward pull on the bar. At first, it seemed like an impossible task, since it was difficult for anyone to get leverage in that position. But after a few seconds, with James glutes completely fired up, the bar started to come up out of the cement floor. The bar continued to groan with resistance, but finally gave up. With one last immense rumble, the concrete floor started to crack, and then opened up and released the anchor, yielding to James’s coiled muscle. A glistening James smiled at Colin, knowing he had redeemed his stature on the team. The entire team was riveted to these two feats of inhuman strength. Colin’s training program was underway. The next two weeks were a complete blur. Marcus and I were sharing a room, and our schedule seemed to revolve around his workouts. When we weren't at the gym, we were planning his next sessions, or his diet. His earlier animosity towards me seemed to dissipate, and he had a newfound respect for me. His progress at the gym was impressive - slow, steady, deliberate. For a guy who barely weighed 145lbs, he was benching his body weight in no time. He seemed a bit apprehensive anytime we mentioned his father’s sponsorship of the team, but I was able to keep him focused on his regimen. Brendan and Jeremy had taken over the supervision of the overall team, and it was paying off. Their collective body weight had increased a remarkable 15% in the first few weeks. Brendan now tipped the scales at 210lbs, up from 180, and he had all but abandoned his dream of becoming a pro wide receiver. "Just too damn big for that," he said with a huge smile on his face. Jeremy was now up to 240lbs himself, easily one of the biggest guys in the house. He had all but tossed out his wardrobe, since he inexplicably grew taller. At 6 5, he walked around in tight shorts and whatever tank tops he could find. He spent his days happily coaching, eating and lifting. Jackson spent all of his time with Colin. For a guy we all remembered as a typical alpha-male athlete, his attitude had changed dramatically. He was entirely subjugated to Colin now: following him around 24/7, almost mindless in his devotion. Everywhere that Colin went, we were sure to see Jackson two steps behind him, and he would either be shirtless, in just shorts, training shoes and a backwards baseball cap, when he wasn't wearing a custom-made 150lb weight vest. Any verbal interaction we tried to have with Jackson was met with a blank look, since he now only communicated through Colin. After two weeks of intense training, he stood at 6 7, and weighed in at 325lbs of ripped muscle: the biggest and strongest athlete in the history of the university. And although he lost any ability to think for himself, his GPA had soared from a paltry 2.7 to a perfect 4.0. Then Colin got a call from Mr. Cunitz, who said he was coming to visit and wanted an update on his “investment.”

Loosely adapted from Morpheus' Amulet of Strength story: http://brawna.org/stories/the-amulet-strength Part 1 : Notable Appraisals Adam Barnes was not happy. Last spring, as a freshman, he had started an ultimate frisbee team. He got enough people to compete in a few matches and helped organize a small tournament with a couple other schools, but his teammates seemed to have lost their interest over the summer. "C'mon, guys, we have to decide on our practice schedule," he pleaded at a lunch meeting in the cafeteria. Bryce had a burger in his hand as he replied, "Adam, ultimate was fun, but can't it wait again 'til the spring?" Chris and Alison nodded in agreement. "I thought you guys were serious about this," Adam complained, to no response except a shrug from Harry. "And where are the other guys?" "I don't think they knew about it. They took themselves off the group list," Alison explained. Adam groaned as Harry asked Alison if she was still developing the app they had talked about last year, and Bryce took another bite of his burger. "Do you guys mind moving to the smaller table?" a deep voice asked behind Adam. "We're 12." --- Adam left lunch feeling defeated, once again, so he went for a walk into the city. Why couldn't they see they he wanted them to be a great team? Maybe they'd take him more seriously if he wasn't a 5'6" scrawny guy. If Bryce wanted to practice, people would get in line. They all liked Bryce, even though he was a lazy ass. He thought Alison was competitive enough to be on board with his plans, but she's a dorky girl. He's the one with the drive and organization to lead them. If only he could back that up with some muscle like the football guy that took their table. He called the meeting; Bryce had no right to say, "no problem, dude." Adam growled out loud and looked up to realize he wasn't sure where he was. It was a residential area around the school and most of the streets looked the same. At the next corner he got his bearings and noticed a sign for an estate sale. Yeah, who are they kidding, there are no estates here, just yards. But down the road he saw a front yard flooded with tables and items for sale. Maybe I can salvage something good from today, he thought. He got a philosophy book and a small set of silverware and then saw a table of free stuff. There was an old, small lock-box that reminded him of the one that Harry lost over the summer, thankfully after he deposited its contents into the team account. A note on it said, "Lock broken. Unknown contents." "Yeah, coulda thrown it out," a middle-aged woman explained, "but it adds some excitement to the event, right? Like those antique shows. But, if you do open it, FYI, it might be pretty moldy in there." "Okay. It's free, right?" Adam confirmed. When he shook it, it did feel like something was inside the box, but it didn't rattle. Adam returned to his room with a sigh. "At least I have a single this year. No annoying roommate." --- Watches were a hobby of his, so he had some small tools to try to salvage the lock-box, but it took him a week amid other distractions and homework to finally open the box. It was filled with a linen cloth that was definitely very moldy, but it could be wrapped around something. He closed it and returned the next day with a face mask, gloves and trash liner. As he extracted the contents, he realized he should have worn eye goggles, too, but the cloud of spores settled quickly and he gently unwrapped the cloth to reveal a large square medallion on a black chain and a old piece of paper that somehow survived the mold. He tapped the mold onto the liner as much as he could and then set the necklace and parchment aside and tried to clean up and contain the mold as much as possible. The box was potentially usable, but he was more curious about this necklace, or whatever it was. Adam knew that Bryce studied languages and that he went to the library pretty regularly. "Hey, Bryce, does this look like Greek to you?" "Ha, ha, Adam, that was funny. Oh, you're not joking." Bryce looked over the copy Adam made of the parchment. "It's similar to Greek, but probably more like ... Coptic or something." "Can you translate it?" Adam asked hopefully. "I could try looking it up, if you want. Can I take this?" "Yeah, it's a copy." "What's it from?" Bryce asked curiously. "Huh?" "Where did you find this writing?" "Does that matter?" Adam asked defensively. "Well, it might help me know where to start." "Look, you said you could translate it, so just do that," Adam demanded. "Oh. Look, are you okay about everything? We felt bad that we just wanted to hang out instead of practicing all the time, but Alison and I agreed that we could still practice once in a while. Or maybe just go for walks and do yoga to stay active, ya know?" "Yeah, okay. I'll post another lunch meeting for next week, same time as last week." "That sounds cool. I chat with Harry all the time, but it's cool to get together. Looking forward to it, dude." I'm not a dude, Adam thought, but since you're translating for me, I guess I'll pretend to be nice. --- He knew how to carefully clean the inner workings of a rusty watch and applied the same techniques to the filthy medallion, but it wasn't made of metal, more like stone or mineral. The chain was like obsidian and the medallion like jade but there were veins of color and depth in it that were ... entrancing. It seemed both fragile and eternal. The bulk of it was the CD-case-sized medallion that had a mix of hieroglyphs and letters and characters etched lightly into it. The etching wasn't worn down or faded in any way, but it was light enough that the symbols were only visible at certain angles and seem to shine in varying hues. He slipped the chain over his head and gently laid it on his chest. It tingled his skin through his shirt, feeling both cold and warm. The weight of it felt like a plate of armor. Adam looked over in the mirror and gasped. He didn't really look any different, but something about the chain or how the medallion brought out his eyes or how it shifted his posture made him look like a fearless warrior. In a blink it was gone and he saw his bugged out eyes and bony shoulders and totally flat chest, and the necklace looked ridiculous on him. He nearly ripped it off his neck and threw it across the room, but controlled his temper enough to drop it in the drawer with his favorite ultimate shirt. --- The next week, Adam, Bryce, Alison and Harry had lunch together. "I'm glad you guys came back to your senses," Adam laughed. "So we could go running every week and maybe do yoga sometimes for stretching?" "How about every other week?" asked Bryce. "And jogging sounds better." "I'm out," announced Harry. "I'm already going to the gym every week with my roommate, and I don't think I'll do ultimate in the spring." "Then why the fuck are you here, Harry?" demanded Adam. "Woah, Adam," Alison chimed in. "And where's Chris?" Adam persisted. "Why don't I go look for him," Harry said as he left with his tray. "Nice try, Bryce. Cya later." "Bryce isn't the one trying here," retorted Adam. "Adam," Bryce said very calmly, "I don't think this is going to work. You're a lot angrier this year and we're looking for some fun, not for being yelled at." Bryce and Alison exchanged looks and then took their trays just as the large table of football jocks happened to erupt in laughter. --- Later that night, Adam was pacing in his room. Even after going for a long run, he was too pissed off to stay still. "Fuck them," he growled furiously. "Fuck them both. Fuck all of them. I'm better without them. I'm an army of one and they'll soon wish they had me to lead them." Wearing his ultimate "uniform" often calmed him, so he decided to change. He also took out the necklace and decided to wear that, too. Maybe he could see himself above all this shit. The medallion once again felt like armor and he felt his posture shift. He hesitated before turning to the mirror. Yes, it might give him a glimpse of his warrior self, but it would likely be a short flash before he recognized the loser he usually saw. Instead, he looked out his window at a small slice of the quad and barely listened to the faint chiming of the chapel. Huh, must be midnight now. A bright green and pink light flashed into his room, and then it went completely dark as Adam lost his balance and hit what felt like a cushion on the floor. It was tough to get back up in the dark. He was very familiar with the layout of his room, but everything had fallen down or something and it felt like he was floating in the air a bit when he stood. The lights were out in the quad, too, so just a bit of moonlight began to reveal gray shapes around him. Was the medallion still on him? he wondered. But before he could look down, the power came back on and he saw the arm of a very large man behind him in the mirror. He jumped away from him and hit his head on something and fell onto his desk and broke it to pieces. He looked around the room but saw nobody. He again looked to check on the necklace and saw the huge arms come from behind him. He jumped across the room and the arms followed him as he realized: These are my arms! "Holy shit, I'm huge!" His body felt vaguely numb and uncoordinated, but he stood up and realized his head was just a couple inches from the ceiling that now had a large hole in it from when he jumped. He spread his arms wide and felt he could almost reach across the whole room. He flinched at his sideways reflection in the mirror as he saw bugles of mounds of muscle on a body that he still had trouble believing was his. His arms looked like legs and his legs looked like people. He also noticed the intact necklace that looked so much smaller on his bulging slabs of chest muscle, and that his t-shirt and shorts had also quadrupled in size to match his growth. But the medallion had lost its iridescence; it looked dull and ordinary now. Still, Adam gently took it off. He considered briefly that he might return to his previous form without it, but then he could probably just use it again. He placed it back into his drawer and checked the mirror again that the change was permanent. His face was different. It was still him, but ... studlier, and his hair had kinda spiked up. He took off his t-shirt with a few tugs and pulls and looked down over wide, thick traps to shoulders that extended beyond the sides of the mirror and hard plates of pecs with cleavage that rippled with his slightest thought. His abs were bricks, and another slight thought formed them into a deep, dense wall. He couldn't see lower than that in the mirror, but he extended his legs and saw his shorts overflowing with meaty quads that he shook and flexed and rippled in amazement. His calves were monstrous, nearly the size of bowling balls. As he connected with his new body, he felt the power residing in it and as he flexed biceps the size of his head, that power felt limitless. "I'm a god," Adam gasped, then laughed, "I'm a fucking god." He flexed as much of his muscles as he could and realized he was filling out the front of his shorts with a large bulge, too, and his jock was feeling too small. He had to untie his shorts to get them down over his ass and thighs and the jock strap took some effort to remove, but it remained intact. A huge hose of a dick plopped out with a sensation that felt like an orgasm to Adam, but was just the sensation of the still soft organ moving about. After getting naked, he grabbed the log with one of his paws and each tug felt like another orgasm. He felt it harden and rise and started using both hands as pre-cum bubbled out in a flow and lubed him well. The orgasm feeling of each stroke blended into one glorious ride and he spread his fluid over his body, feeling its hard, bulging strength. After what felt like an hour, his softball sized nuts churned violently and his back and neck arched as his legs spasmed and he sprayed about a gallon of cream across the walls of his dorm room with a long, very satisfied growl.

Be sure to read the entire series here: Christmas Surprise: https://muscle-growt...se-part-1-of-7/ New Beginnings: https://muscle-growt...gs-part-2-of-7/ Progression to Sex: https://muscle-growt...ex-part-3-of-7/ Danger and Passion: https://muscle-growt...on-part-4-of-7/ Changes Who We Are Forever: https://muscle-growt...er-part-5-of-7/ Magical Suit: https://muscle-growt...it-part-6-of-7/ Culmination of Destiny ‘Hola Eduardo, es agradable verte de nuevo.’ Ed’s face lights up once he sees who it is and rushes over to give his old friend a big hug. ‘Holy crap, I have missed you so much Vaughn. When you moved to Maryland, I had hoped that we would hang out a lot more, but it never materialized for some reason.’ Vaughn moans as he runs his hands along Ed’s big muscles and leans in to give the big guy’s pec shelf a nice wet kiss. Ed grins and leans down to give him a soft kiss on his as well. ‘Well Eduardo…….you haven’t seen me because I was brought up here apparently to wait for you. Your wonderful friend Kris has made me feel so welcome here. He even……shall we say…..lets me worship him and…..*pauses to look away*service him…..when he isn’t with you of course.’ Ed laughs a bit as he continues to hold Vaughn in his arms. He looks at the Hispanic man’s muscular body and sighs as he rubs the nicely-shaped balls of muscle in his arms and shoulders. They go to sit on the bed and start kissing each other deeply. It isn’t long before it progresses to Ed running his tongue along Vaughn’s gorgeous arms as he moans feeling the hormones rushing through his body. He pulls the smaller stud’s pants down as he moves down to lick on his tight stomach and abs. Vaughn reaches down to squeeze on the bigger man’s pecs as his nipples get erect and push up against the soft brown fabric in his top. They eventually start massaging each other’s big packages as the moaning gets louder. Ed pulls Vaughn’s underwear down and swallows his thick brown cock gently sucking it as it glides in and out of his mouth. They lose themselves in each other and are completely unaware that they have a guest as Kris sneaks in behind them and slides on to the bed. Ed looks over and smiles as he continues to massage the Hispanic stud’s rod with his tongue. Kris is wearing his traditional red and black suit for the upcoming holiday season but his big beefy torso still sticks out from inside the outfit’s fabric. Ed moans as the older man wraps his arms around Vaughn’s waist and opens the flap of his suit that hides his thick meaty rod and slides it inside the small man’s tight hole. The brown-skinned hunk squeals feeling his anus being filled to the brim with Kris’s giant love muscle. Ed feels the man’s balls filling up with cum as they twitch and swell against his face. He slows his pace down to let the Hispanic stud enjoy himself as Kris pounds him slowly getting every inch of his cock inside. The sweat increases along the hunky daddy’s chest and on top of his head as it glistens in the overhead lights and underneath his red suit. Ed rubs his hands on Vaughn’s chest feeling his rippling waist and then teases his nipples. As he does this, he tastes the Spanish speaker’s thick honey flowing down his throat. Kris pulls something out of one of his suit pockets and hands it over to Ed. He stops sucking on Vaughn to see what it is as the serviced Hispanic stud does so as well. It appears to be some kind of tube full with gold colored ointment on the inside. Ed looks up at Kris in a confused manner which makes the older bodybuilder laugh in his baritone. ‘This is different Kris. What am I going to do with this?’ ‘You will find out now won’t you Edmond. I think you will enjoy it quite a bit. It isn’t permanent by any means so just let it work its magic and we will get to the good stuff later.’ ‘Ohh so I am rubbing this on me and not Vaughn? You have always been so good to me Kris.’ Vaughn looks back at Kris with his lips puckered a bit at him. Kris laughs and waves his ring finger at him. ‘Now little pup, I have something for you as well.’ He pulls out what looks like a sounding wand from his other pocket. It isn’t silver though, but rather black with a gold tip on it. ‘Here you go V. Do you want me to help you insert it?’ Vaughn nods his head up and down as Kris takes the cover off of it. Ed looks on anxiously to see exactly what this device is supposed to do. The older man rubs on the younger stud’s legs as he quits thrusting inside him to reach down and take Vaughn’s cock into his hands. He strokes it slowly to get it erect again as Ed reaches down to massage his balls as Kris holds the sound in his left hand. ‘Are you ready for it cutie? *kisses him on his lips* Don’t worry about it okay? It only feels weird when it first goes in.’ Vaughn seems a bit uneasy about it but Ed distracts him by placing the Hispanics hands on his pecs and tells him to squeeze them. They both moan as Kris smiles and holds the young man’s cock upright. He slowly pushes his slit open with the bottom of the sound and slowly maneuvers it inside. The young stud’s body tenses as the pressure makes him grimace a bit. Kris slowly strokes his pole as it slowly slides further down inside. It finally makes it all the way down until only the gold tip is visible. Ed and Kris look at each other and wink as Vaughn stops groaning and calms down. ‘Hey Kristian, I don’t seem to feel it anymore. What is it supposed to do?’ He suddenly goes quiet as Ed immediately notices something happening to him. The long rod disintegrates into Vaughn’s cock as the big vein in the side of it pulses and begins growing. The cock itself is getting thicker as Ed feels the brown-skinned stud’s balls swelling as his sack stretches to accommodate the two tennis balls. The growth moves down his legs as Ed feels his quads growing wider as the muscles thicken up and form large diamonds. It moves down into his calves which reshape themselves to look like huge hearts. Edmond leans down to lick both of them as Vaughn’s cock finds its way down to Ed’s face. It rubs its thick pre in his hair which gets a few grunts out of the big stud. Kris starts to thrust inside the growing man again as he feels his expanding bottom’s firm ass swelling up into two giant balloons. ‘Ohh fuck yeah V, you are going to make your big daddy cum buckets inside you.’ ‘OY VEY! *grabs his throat*…..OH WOW MY VOICE…..MMMMM IT IS MOVING UP INTO MY CHEST NOW!’ His tight waist is now growing wider as the muscles make room for his growing 8-pack. His nicely developed arms are blowing up as well as incredibly loud stretching sounds blast through the room. The veins force themselves to expand as his biceps and forearms nearly double in size. The splits in his biceps disappear as they grow into giant singular beefy mounds. The tennis balls of muscle in his forearms have now grown into huge baseballs. Ed can feel his balls working overtime as they contract violently. Vaughn yells in ecstasy as his growing pecs inflate themselves further outward from his chest as they now heave over his new swollen 8-pack. His nipples dangle over the edges as they stretch out wider making his cock throb wildly. Edmond reaches down to grab it as he anticipates a massive load as the Hispanic stud pants in agony. His nicely built back stretches further out from his core as newly formed muscles appear out from nowhere as he feels his lats flaring without even trying. Kris squeezes them tightly making Vaughn squirt a massive jet of pre into Ed’s face. They both laugh as the final sequence proceeds on the growing young man. His youthful looks disappear as his clean cut face is now covered in a nice thick layer of black fur. Ed moans seeing Vaughn’s head maturing in front of him as his chiseled brown skin gleans of sweat against his short black hair and brown eyes. Kris is pounding him as hard as he can now making it nearly impossible for the newly minted hulk to hold his load in. Ed opens his mouth to catch his contents as Vaughn roars in delight with his immensely manly new voice. The cum is amazingly thick and white as Ed quickly gulps it down. He feels his friend’s cock writhing as it pumps rope after rope of hot jizz savoring the sweet nectar as it fills his belly. Kris squeezes him harder as he yells as well pumping his big load into the Hispanic hulk’s intestines. Ed slides over to feed some the cum he still has in his mouth into Kris’s as they lock lips and pound on each other’s chests. Vaughn squeezes them both into him as they all lay down on the bed together. ‘Oh my gawd Kristian I feel incredible. Is this your gift to me?’ ‘Of course it is V. I hope you wanted to be bigger than you were because this is a permanent change.’ Vaughn grins and rubs his powerful body as his hands move down to his giant veiny cock. ‘Umm…..I think I need to cum again guys. Are you both really hungry because I think I can feed an army with what I have in my crotch? *winks*’ They laugh and nod their heads as the Hispanic hulk gets onto his knees in between Ed and Kris and starts stroking in a steady rhythm. His balls instantly swell up as he feels them contracting within seconds. ‘Wow that was……QUICK…..OH MY GAWD!’ Both of his older partners stick their tongues out as they catch a few ropes of his thick spunk as it flies all over the bed and the wall behind them. They each take turns gulping it down as it continues to pour out Vaughn’s cockhead. He finally finishes a minute later as Ed and Kris gently massage his back and ass to comfort him after such a grueling session. Kris turns to look at Ed and smiles knowing that his turn will come next. ‘Okay Edmond, you know it is time for you to open your gift right?’ Kris says with a smile. ‘Yeah I know Kris. Just give me a few minutes okay so I can revel in my friend’s intoxicating beauty.’ The Hispanic hulk grunts as he grabs Ed in his arms and squeezes him tightly. Ed moans before doing the same to Vaughn as they kiss each other quite passionately. Kris looks on as he sits back still in his red suit and puts his arms behind his head. He scoops up several strands of cum from the wall behind him and rubs it into his protruding pecs. The two younger studs stop kissing to turn and look at their older master as they hear and see his chest growing as it shreds the front of his suit as his two thick hairy mountains drip with sweat. He growls as he flexes his guns making them grow as they make quick work of his sleeves. The two men look on in amazement before moving over to nurse on his melons as they run their tongues along his hard nipples. He wraps his huge arms around both of them and squeezes them as his biceps grow even larger. They moan louder as they continue to work his pecs over and tug extremely hard on his nipples. ‘OH YEAH BOYS…..MAKE YOUR DADDY PROUD…..FUCKING MAKE ME CUM…..’ They chew even harder as his cock rises between them and swells even bigger. It shoots a volcano of precum all over his red pants as his quads and ass blast through the seams in his pants and rip through the sides. They are completely lost in his incredible muscularity as he continues to grow even bigger all over his body. His suit is now in tatters as the bed breaks below them. They continue to accelerate his growth as his chest heaves violently. ‘AHHH…..YEAH…..BOYS…..FUCK…..MMMMM…..I CAN’T HOLD IT…..ANY…..LONGER…..’ The volcano of precum disappears as Kris thrusts his huge lower body up into the air as garden hose sized jets of cum fly into the ceiling as wood crashes into the ground below. He yells in delight as the two men stop turning him on as he holds them close to him to protect them from the falling debris. His solid 450 pound frame doesn’t take any damage whatsoever from the shrapnel as all three of them laugh hysterically. ‘Whew guys, I have needed to do this for months. I saved it for this very moment Edmond, but V holds a special place in my heart as well so I am glad that you could be a part of this too.’ They both kiss Kris and huddle up against him as he slowly shrinks back down to his normal 325 pound size. Vaughn makes a sad face but Kris punches him in the arm which makes the hulk puff his bicep up. They start to wrestle around as Ed watches in delight. The two men have meant a lot to him for so long that he is thankful that they can be in the same place with him. After a few minutes of horseplay, they stop to relax as their thickly muscled bodies drip profusely with sweat. ‘Alright Edmond, now you can open your gift. Sorry I just had to do that little transformation for you, I’m sure you will understand, right?’ *he smiles and winks* Ed eagerly opens the tube of ointment and notices its glittery sheen right away. Kris moves up next to him after Vaughn sits down on the dirty floorboards. He squeezes a pile of it on his big hands and slowly rubs it into the beefy stud’s neck. He leans in to give Ed a nice long kiss as he puts a little more on his back. ‘WHOA! I think I can feel it working already Kris. Aww shit, I think I am going to ruin these nice pajamas you gave me.’ He feels his body growing as his thick muscles grow even thicker as they pull the brown fabric to its limits showing off his gargantuan pecs. Kris winks as his partner’s pants rip all the way down the seams as his seismic tree trunks and enormous calves quickly destroy whatever has been covering them. His body hair turns a bit silvery which stuns Ed quite a bit. He feels his huge arms tearing the sleeves apart as they grow another three inches. His monstrous mammaries finally bust through the front as the rest of his dark fur changes over to the same silvery color as his legs. Kris massages them with his hands and moans deeply as he reaches down to rip off the rest of Ed’s brown top. He sucks on his hard nipples as they ache under the pressure of Ed’s growing tits. Vaughn strokes his own cock as he witnesses his good friend’s transformation continuing. Before long, Kris enters Ed’s hole as he lovingly fucks him. The horny latino moves back over to the broken bed to massage Kris’s huge back as the hunky daddy works over his bigger partner’s amazing ass. ‘I feel…..different somehow Kris. What exactly is this ointment supposed to do to me other than make me bigger than I already am?’ Kris puts his hand over Ed’s mouth as he continues to fuck him. Vaughn slaps his own cock on Kris’s back before he finally enters the huge silver daddy. The three huge studs continue to worship and fuck each other for an additional several minutes before they finally unload inside each other. Kris pulls out of his new silver haired lover and flips him around to prepare him for the upcoming white rain. ‘Are you ready for your facial Edmond Kringle…..uhhh…..I mean my silver pup.’ Ed looks into Kris’s eyes and looks a bit bewildered but nods his head in agreement anyway. The hunky daddy smiles down at him as his cock throbs wildly against his huge lover’s shoulder. He then slaps it against Ed’s face before he strokes it a few more times. Ed runs his tongue along the sides of the shaft before Kris’s moans louder than he ever has before. Vaughn proceeds to fuck him harder to coincide with the whole event. The huge latino stud holds the mature man tightly against him as he feels his own load building up. ‘Mmmm feels really good V. Fill me up really good with that big hot load of yours.’ Vaughn growls deeply as he yells in ecstasy shooting an immense flood of cum inside the huge muscle daddy. Kris turns his head around to kiss his young admirer’s lips as he shoots his own load all over Ed’s hairy face. The giant river coats the handsome stud’s silvery beard and the hair on his head as he opens his mouth to catch the rest of it. He then swallows Kris’s cock down his throat to gulp on the massive load as he massages the big daddy’s thick muscular body. The three men finally fall over completely spent from the amazing sex they just had. Both Ed and Vaughn lovingly run their tongues and hands all over Kris as he lays there looking down at them with his arms around their backs as he rubs their soaked muscles slowly and methodically. They take turns moving up to kiss him before he decides to sit up. He then gets up and walks over to the nearby window to look at the snowy landscape and its icy waters. He signals for Ed to come over to the window to be with him. ‘Come here Edmond, I want to show you something.’ ‘Umm okay, just give me a minute. Should I put something on first?’ ‘No, you can walk around here completely nude if you want Ed. This is your new home now, you won’t be returning to your old life ever again because you won’t ever have to.’ Ed seems shocked by this revelation as he walks over to be with Kris. The thick muscle daddy leans down to plant a huge kiss on his silvery haired lover and holds him tightly in his arms. Vaughn gets up to put a robe on and sits in a chair before getting up again. Kris turns around to wave at him before the Hispanic stud leaves the room. Ed seems really confused by what is transpiring. ‘You see Edmond that ointment I gave to you is not meant to be temporary, it is a permanent potion that is meant to transform you into your next life. This is the one and only time that I have ever lied to you about anything, and I love you so much. I…..am at the end of my life now and I have found my true successor. That is you beautiful and I want you to continue my legacy okay?’ Ed looks into his eyes as he feels the tears welling up from inside him. Kris rubs his back slowly as he squeezes his partner into his chest and neck. ‘It is okay to be upset man I totally understand what you are thinking. You see…..when I met you last Christmas by that fireplace I had no idea that I would fall for you so much but I did. I confess that I have always planned on turning you into a Kringle, but I never knew how incredibly hot you would become after your change either.’ Kris lets him go long enough to go grab an old body-sized mirror from across the room to bring over to where he is standing. They stand in front of it together and look at each other’s hugely muscled physiques. Ed can now see the thick silvery fur running up and down his body which shocks him a bit at first. Kris’s darker fur makes him a bit jealous. ‘Why am I the silver one though Kris? Why couldn’t I look like you?’ ‘You see Edmond, you will be taking over my duties now and all of the people down below us will be expecting silvery white, not brown or black or even red fur. Don’t worry you will be given my powers as well. V will be with you here to keep you motivated so you won’t be alone ever.’ ‘So Vaughn knew about this too?’ ‘Yes he did. V has been up here for quite some time actually. He didn’t know that I would give him that gift though. I’m sure he left us here because he wanted to be alone for awhile, but he will be fine once some time passes. You will remind him of me since he cares about you so much.’ Ed continues to hold on to Kris tightly against him as he kisses the big muscle daddy again. The hunky older man looks into his lover’s eyes and seems transfixed on them. Ed feels like he is frozen in place as Kris’s eyes grow dark as his pupils completely dilate. The stunned silvery haired stud feels his own do the same thing as they remain still for nearly an entire minute. After this sequence stops, they both fall to the ground and are unconscious. A few minutes later, Ed wakes up to find numerous half clothed men standing over him including Vaughn. They lift him up and carry him over to the broken bed again. He looks around for Kris, but he is nowhere to be seen for some reason. ‘Wha…..where is Kris? Vaughn please tell me…..he is still…..please…..’ Vaughn gets in bed with Ed and holds him tightly against his chest before he starts to cry. The big stud is absolutely dumbfounded and attempts to punch Vaughn in the chest which he blocks with his huge hands. He squeezes Ed tighter against him as the other men leave the room behind them. ‘I’m sorry Eduardo…..*tears rolling*…...I have dreaded this day for so long but I also knew it was coming soon…..he made you his successor so you are now part of the Kringle bloodline. I just hope you think I am a good enough partner for you. I know why he wanted me to look like this now. He wants you to be as happy as possible.’ Ed slowly weeps into Vaughn’s huge chest as they lie down together in the rubble. ‘Is he even here anymore Vaughn? Where did they take his body?’ ‘I’m not sure exactly how this works Eduardo. There was no body to be found because by the time I got back in here, he was already gone.’ Ed stops crying to let go of Vaughn and sits up. Vaughn gets behind him and wraps his arms around his buddy’s torso. He kisses his silver haired lover’s neck and face as he presses his body up against him. ‘I care about you more now than I ever have before Eduardo, which is why I have to get you prepared to do your duties as the planet’s gift giver. I need to get you dressed for the job and on your way. We unfortunately don’t have time to grieve right now because there is so much work to do.’ Ed turns his head to sort of smirk at him as the two men get up to go shower. After cleaning each other up, Vaughn rushes his muscle daddy down the hall and into wardrobe. Several men help get him get fitted into the classic red and white garb before they place a mirror in front of his face. Ed gasps as he sees his reflection. He literally looks like a muscular version of Santa Claus as he turns his body from left to right to marvel at himself. Vaughn laughs a bit as he gets directly behind him and holds him tightly. ‘You look amazing daddy, I think the transformation is complete papi, now you need to go back to civilization for tonight and make a bunch of guys dreams come true.’ Ed turns around to kiss Vaughn one last time. ‘Kris is right you were the perfect choice to be with me. Now I am wondering where my first destination will be……’ Ed immediately feels himself being transported to somewhere else. Before he has time to think any longer, he lands on a rooftop. He is a bit dazed as he takes a few steps and falls down the chimney that is just a few steps away. As he lands directly into the fire, it goes out and doesn’t leave a single mark on him. He can hear voices from inside the house as they are awakened from their slumber. Ed jumps to his feet to look himself over before he notices an extremely beefy man breathing heavy on a nearby couch. He isn’t alone either as his lover looks just as shocked as he is. ‘Oh my gawd, you are actually real aren’t you? I could have sworn that you were a myth, but here you are, and…..wow you are big…..and ridiculously hot.’ Ed shakes his head and smiles when he realizes that both men are from his past. He smiles really big when he moves over to join the two men on the couch. They clearly do not recognize him at all which makes it all the better for him. He sits between them as they both instinctively start rubbing on his suit with their hands and move in to snuggle with him a bit. ‘So boys, what is it that you want for Christmas? Let me check my list here…..*pulls a card from his pocket to see who they are just for show*……ahh yes…..Gus and Isaac. You two have both been good and bad this year I see. I think I can give you both gifts that you will enjoy immensely.’ He undoes his belt and unbuttons part of his suit to reveal his silver-haired muscular chest which shocks the two men greatly. They waste no time on getting more acquainted with him as he finds a bottle in his other pocket. He pulls it out to look it over and laughs as he puts it on a side table. He undoes the rest of his suit as both men strip naked. Edmond looks at them and winks as they start to have sex. This is the end of the story, but I want to know if you have a favorite part of the series. Let me know in the comments what you liked and didn't like. Check out this recent story: How to Change Your Life through Muscle Therapy Two-Parter: Part 1: https://muscle-growt...py-part-1-of-2/ Part 2: https://muscle-growt...py-part-2-of-2/

I want to thank muscledrain, who suggested the theme and general outline of this story, and Gunshotuk, who friendly assisted with proofreading. I added these links, by editing my original post. Chapter one is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7118-with-a-little-help-from-magic-chapter-one/ Chapter two is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7140-with-a-little-help-from-magic-chapter-two/?hl=magic With a little help from magic Chapter Three A few weeks earlier, it had been completely dark at the hour when the students arrived for the first lesson, but now rose-tinted clouds and an icy blue sky sleepily floated over the brick building, although the sun itself hadn’t reached above the roofs of the neighbouring buildings. The snow-ploughs had left high snow-drifts against the surrounding walls. The outdoors temperature had dropped to minus twenty Centigrades, and the breath of the students formed clouds of visible vapour in the air. One of the bus lines was at a standstill, due to the icy cover on one of the steepest roads in the city, and this had caused a late arrival of some students. Aram was irritated. With no bus, he had been late, and got on a later tram departure than usual. The situation had affected many students from the same parts of the city, and he wasn’t entirely alone in the corridors, although most of the students already sat in their lecture rooms. He put his jacket and his training bag in his locker, and grabbed his biology book. ’Oi Swotter!’, shouted the too familiar voice of Anderson. Aram sighed. Here we go again. The angry faces were there as usual, shouting things as usual, with one minor divergence: Peter wasn’t there. Slowly, a hunch began to emerge, but Aram wasn’t given the time to finish his thought. Anderson was there, wrestled Aram quickly, until he lay on the floor, getting salt stains on his clothes. Anderson shouting things about going back to his own country. ’You know that I was born here, don’t you?’, Aram asked. The scent of Anderson’s leather jacket. The scent of a cheap cologne and adolescent sweat. The scent of Anderson’s bad breath: Probably a yoghurt breakfast. The scents which could have been perfectly neutral, or even the scents of a friend, but now, since several years, the scents of humiliation. Anderson’s football scarf dangling in Aram’s face. Shouting. Spittle. Something about Arabs. ’And no. I’m not Arab either. My ancestors lived in Syria, Turkey and Iraq long before the Arabs.’ Anderson’s hand around Aram’s Adam’s apple. It was useless to resist: The footballer who dabbled at the gym was significantly stronger and heavier than Aram. Anderson’s bodyweight disappeared. At first, Aram was too dizzy to register what had happened, but, when he composed himself, he could watch Anderson in a knuckle fight with Peter. The other members of Anderson’s little crew standing passively, not knowing what to do. Aram adjusted his eyeglasses and his tie, quickly remembering how he had suffered from myopia since primary school, and how John had not. ’What are you doing, fatso? We are mates, aren’t we?’, Anderson tried to convince Peter. ’I’m tired of you Anderson. I’m tired of being the fatso. I’m tired of being your excuse for this. I thought that I was the leader of our gang, and then I realized, that I have been your puppet all the time. Always blame the fatso. Always nagging about how I was dismissed from the hockey team!’ ’But you were dismissed from the hockey team, fatso. You didn’t have what it takes. You realize that, huh? I remained in the football team because Coach saw my qualities. But why do you defend the little Prof? Have you become an Arab lover all of a sudden?’ Peter was over Anderson in a second. He must have left all self-control, and punched on the leaner rocker uncontrollably, using his weight to his advantage. But Anderson was faster, and used that to snake himself out of Peter’s grip and range. The three other rockers froze from their disbelief and hesitation, and surrounded Peter. ’Fatso! Fatso! Fatso!’ ’Frigging bloody wanker. Now I have a blood stain on my new plaid shirt. You will pay for this! What is it? Don’t want to be reminded of what a bad hockey player you are? A failure! A loser! And you were never a real rocker either! Couldn't afford a real jacket? Couldn’t afford a second hand car? Letting others pay for your beer and hot dogs on the motor festivals? Do you think I’m scared of you?’ The last sentence wasn’t delivered convincingly. Peter stared Anderson in his eyes. The small hesitation was all Peter needed. He pulled himself free. Neither Anderson, nor Peter, saw what happened next, but Aram saw it. John and Carl arrived. Both were of course taller than any of the young men, but Carl probably wasn’t in much better shape than Anderson, and considerably more light-weight than Peter. John, on the other side, towered over the group, his escalating results on the gym progressing almost visibly each day. It was probably the bad weather that had caused Carl to wear army cargotrousers instead of his favourite bleacherjeans, but, unlike John’s city camo, Carls trousers followed the greenish colour scheme for forests. The bulky and glossy bomber jackets enhanced their size, one black and one metallic blue. The military origin of two of their garments, was contrasted by the stylish details of others: Carl’s favourite maroon polo, his blue braces and blue shoe laces. John had shaved his braided ’Vikings’ hairdo off, and Aram noticed a black and yellow-striped polo shirt and thin, black braces, that John hadn’t worn before. Had he joined the SHARPs? Yes he had: Aram could see a new embrodiered patch on John’s jacket. Anderson’s followers looked at the two skinheads for a second, and left the place. Anderson became aware of Carl and John, and lit up. ’Oi fellas! He is all yours. Now he even attacks friends, not to mention poor Prof over there.’ It was Carl who answered. ’Don’t try to fast talk out of this. We heard before we saw. Get out of my way if you don’t want any more thrashing.’ Anderson was silent when he left the lockers. * * * Grumblingly, Carl had accepted that Peter followed them to the gym. ’What I can't understand, is that you have the patience to have him around you. If I had been you, I had wanted to punch his face in.’ Aram didn't know exactly what to say. Nor did John. Remembering two versions of reality gave you perspectives on things that could have been, but Carl wouldn’t believe them if they tried to tell him, and it was probably best a guarded secret. Carl wiped his boots with a wet tissue, in order to remove salt stains. ’You ought to wipe your boots too, John. Salt damages the leather terribly.’ Peter arrived into the locker room, and they changed the subject. * * * John and Carl were on their way home from a concert in another city. They had gone with two of Carl’s old friends, one of whom owned a car. The concert had been fantastic: Some of the song texts about injustice in society, some song texts about football or loyalty to your neighbourhood. Stirring refrains. Many in the audience sang along in the the refrains. John surrounded by friends, with Carl at his side. Sturdy Carl. Good Carl. John had never seen so many skins at the same place at the same time: Short, tall, some in their 60’s, some in the same age as John, and every age between. Some, going for a more old-fashioned take on the style, wore lambskin jackets of a sort that had been popular among skins in the early 1970’s, and not a few, coming from the southern parts, wore crombie coats (although they had bitterly found out that, up here, crombies better had to wait until spring arrived). Bearing in mind the outdoors temperature, it wasn’t strange that most of them wore bomber jackets: black, blue, green or burgundy. In the middle of the concert, John had a short vision of individuality blurring, and his consciousness floating in an atmosphere of affinity, belonging, and joy. John and Carl now shared the back seat of the car, while their friend in the front seat tried to keep the driver awake by talking to him. Loud music played in the car, something by Rancid, John thought. The wintery landscape passed by in the night, swiftly illuminated by the headlights, and then, as swiftly, left behind in the winter night’s darkness. Snow on spruces. Snow on firs. Snow. A road sign, warning for elks. Snow. A small village with a petrol station, street lamps illuminating the back seat for a few seconds, and then winter forest again. Darkness. Snow. He removed the hockey scarf from his neck. It was hot enough inside the car. Carl fell asleep shortly after they left the concert, resting his head against John’s shoulder. While awake, Carl was always so assertive, so confident. When he was asleep, his face looked different: Relaxed, innocent. During the journey he had slid, and his head now rested against John’s side. John had protectively laid his arm around Carl’s shoulders, feeling the silky but synthetic surface of Carl’s jacket. Suddenly, John became aware of, that Carl’s hand, which had rested against John’s trousers, had moved to touch John’s crotch through the fabric of the camo trousers. John hadn’t thought about it, but his tool was hard by being so close to his best friend, if that word was enough to describe his feelings. In his sleep, Carl began to clench John’s dick through the fabric. Clenched. And relaxed. Clenched. And relaxed. John tried to wake Carl up. Carl would be terrified if he had known what he did. John didn’t want to catch the attention from the guys in the front seat: They would tease Carl for weeks, if they knew. Clenched. And relaxed. ’Carl, wake up. Wake up.’, John whispered, and shook him carefully. ’Wake…’ The clenching felt good. Carl had cupped his hand over John’s dickhead. Carl didn’t awake, in spite of Johns silent attempts to wake him. Clenched. And relaxed. They passed by another village. Street lamps revealed a smile on Carl’s face, the blond stubble on his hair glistening like gold in the electric light. And then the car rushed into the night again. A pleasant darkness. Clenched. And relaxed. John’s bloodstream was filled with warm honey, running slowly and exquisitely through his system. Clenched. And relaxed. His dick felt like steel now. Clenched. The warm presence of Carl so close to him. Silky but synthetic. And camo. And relaxed. Reliable. Tough. Kind. Clenched. Loyal and masculine. And relaxed. His invincible friend. Doing this. Clenched. And relaxed. A mist of dark red pleasure floated inside his eyes. Floated. Slowly and exquisitely. Mist. Of a thundercloud. Rushing. Through him. Through his muscles. Feeling big. Hard. Best friend. Thunderbolt. Mist. Rushing. Through him. Smile. Stubble. Close. Thunderbolt mist. Rushing. Now – pure pleasure. It wasn’t aware of it’s existence now. It was. Only. The. Pleasure. Only. The. Pleasure. Only. The. Only. Only. Only. Onl… Clenched. * * * Carl and John had had their ’little chat’ with Peter a few days before, Carl hesitatingly, and John well aware of what Aram and himself had agreed upon. If reality could change, persons could too. Carl had probably been a little bit too harsh, but John had focussed on reason: A few years after arrival, refugees pays tax. Financial argument against refugee policy are therefore without foundation. Freedom of religion is something good: Would you like to be forced to practice something against your will, yourself? No? Then don’t do it to anyone else. Food? Is it really a good idea to decide what anyone else would eat? Do you really like fermented herring yourself? No? You hate the stench? So do I. Why would you then like to dictate that anyone else’s dinner tables should be stuck in the 1890’s or 1920’s? Only upper class eating sushi? I wouldn’t call my cousin upper class: She assists elderly people in their homes. Do you eat pizza? Yes? You know that pizza isn’t indigenous food in Northern Europe, eh? Want to retain a good system of social security? But why then argue for a right wing party? You know that they side with the big companies against workers’ rights, don’t you? Not a commie bastard? If you don’t like the bunch of people Carl hang around with, it’s fine, though they are not exactly commies either. Make up your own mind. There are more answers to these things than two. There are a lot of political parties in the centre, if you prefer that. Most of them are in favour of a well-functioning social security. Your grandfather vote Labour? Then I suggest that you have a chat with your grandfather about this. Wouldn’t that be a good idea? Thought so. Peter looked tired after the conversation. Carl and John had seen smugness or angry sullenness before, but the present sad expression on Peter’s face had none of them seen, and there was something puppy-like about his eyes. Carl handed him a low-carb soda. Peter and his mother lived in a flat consisting of three rooms, all of them considerably smaller than what Carl and John were used to in the younger and recently renovated part of the area. Old-fashioned containers for salt, sugar, meal and oats hung under the dressers, and John noticed to his surprise that the flat lacked a dishwasher. Although cigarette-smoking was falling out of fashion, it was obvious that Peter’s absent Mum was a smoker, which was a pity, since the living room with the old TV could have been quite nice otherwise, with an old fashioned parquet floor and shelves with framed photographs of relatives. Unlike Carl, Peter didn’t have a TV in his bedroom. It didn’t take too long to convince Peter that some of his former views were wrong, although some of the changes probably didn’t go more than skin deep, initially. He had proved that he was able to take sides with Aram, and he was childishly enthusiastic about being instructed by John at the gym. Carl had sadistically ripped away the Confederate flag from Peter’s denim jacket, and the rectangular spot didn’t look impressive, but the weather forced Peter to wear a warmer (rather humdrum) jacket anyhow. The temperature outdoors was burning cold, and it hurt in their cheeks when they returned indoors. * * * Aram arrived late to the gym. ’Sorry. I had to spend some time with Emelie. She was upset. Did you see Emma’s bruise earlier today? No? Anderson had beat her yesterday, and Emelie tried to persuade Emma to leave him, but Emma is stubborn. What a nasty piece of work Anderson is: Disagreeable and nefarious!’ Peter looked on the floor, already dressed for workout, but in cheaper equipment than John and Carl. ’You are much better than me with words’, John said, froze, and stared at Aram silently. Aram stared back. ’Than I am’, Aram answered with some hesitation. ’What is it?’, asked Carl, but John and Aram changed subject. Fifteen minutes later, they stood at the cable stand. ’You have probably seen people train their pecs with cable handles up here, but if you lower these, your chest will actually have to work much harder to press the handles together, especially if you don’t bend your arms.’ ’Yes… Uh. Nrrrgh. Definitely much more resistance…’, Aram noticed, red in his face. ’Seven. Eight. Nine. Uh.’ ’But it doesn't feel like usual. I miss something.’, Carl remarked a minute later. ’The idea is’, John explained, ’to let this part work harder.’ John pressed his fingers on the insides of Carls now very hardworking pecs. He then put his fingers in Carl’s armpits, and nodded in the direction of the dumbbell press. ’These parts of the muscles will get their share of the workout in the next exercise over there.’ Carl shouted, and dropped the cable handles with a noise. ’I am ticklish. Never do that again’, Carl said, and disappeared towards the locker room. * * * The winter night shrouded the slopes and the flats in darkness, but the crusty snow on the lawns reflected the light from the street lamps and the moon. The caretakers had obviously spread another amount of salt during the preceding day, since the ice had melted on the pathway, and the moist asphalt surface peeked out from the surrounding snow, like a snake with black scales. Peter had left them in the older corner of the area as usual, and the other two had left Aram by the stairs to his family’s flat. Aram watched the white clouds of his own breath, watched the sky, noticed the upcoming conjunction between two planets he had read about in a scientific magazine, and went indoors, the bag on his shoulder. His mother was not at home: Probably giving an introductory language course to newly arrived Syrian refugees. His sister probably visited friends. He warmed some chicken in the oven and some lentils in the microwave oven, and ate absentmindedly in the kitchen, before returning to his room. He had just opened the computer file of a composition about mithocondriae, when something strange struck him. He felt dizzy and exhilarated. It felt like reality circled around him for a second, he felt a rush of information streaming inside his head, and he found himself in a state of analytical clarity beyond what he had longed for. He was sure he hadn’t understood all these mathematical proofs just a minute ago, but he could also remember how he gradually had achieved this insight for several years. He looked at the candle from Madame Cremorna’s. Burnt out and empty of wax since several weeks. He sat silent for a long time, trying to regain composure, went out to the kitchen for some tea. Holding the warm jug of tea between his hands, he took an educated guess about what probably had happened. It was probably a good idea to wait a few minutes before calling John on the phone. * * * ’Carl. There is something I want to talk to you about, but we haven’t had a good chance until now.’ They sat in John’s room. John sat on his adjustable chair. Carl sat on John’s bed. It was the sort of week when John’s mother worked night at the home for the aged, and John’s father was away playing floorball with workmates after work. ’Sure. Something political? Something about music?’ ’No. No, nothing like that. Eh. Uhm. Something strange happened when we were on our way home from that concert.’ ’Nothing I noticed. I slept all the way home. Didn’t wake up until the car stopped in the parking lot.’ ’You didn’t dream something strange?’ ’Can’t say that I did. Not something I remember anyway.’ John fell silent. Then he took the matchbox, and lit the novena candle in the window. It was Tuesday, after all. Within a minute the scent from the oil mixed with the candlewax was noticeable in the room. ’I want to tell you a secret. Aram bought that candle to me last autumn. You know: The church his family belongs to is into saints and things. The idea is that it will bring… Bring good luck, in a way.’ ’You know that I am as agnostic as you are. There is no way to prove the supernatural, neither a way to disprove it. It’s just meaningless. I’m not like the hardcore Atheists, ranting about sky fairies and spaghetti monsters, but whatever may or may not exist – if something supernatural exist, it will be so complicated that no human book would be able to describe that something, so I prefer to relax and not spend time on the subject. There’s a world out there to make better. I'm not a bloody hippie.’ John picked a book from his thinly populated bookshelf. He waved with it before Carl: Bodybuilding: A Handbook. ’May I discuss some of today’s exercises?’ ’Sure. Why not?’ John sat down beside Carl at the bed, and began to explain. He was probably ten minutes into the discussion, when he felt a strange heat inside. He rose and opened the window. ’What are you doing? It’s bloody cold outside. Don’t let that cold air inside.’ John closed the window again. The flame of the candle flickered. John could see that there wasn’t much candlewax left. He returned to the bed. ’I feel funny. Don’t you feel the heat?’ ’Heat? The windows’ got good insulation, and the radiators are working, but you can’t call this heat. What’s the matter? Do you feel ill?’ A worried expression John hadn’t seen before spread over Carl’s face. John reclined on the bed, with Carl sitting close to his knees. ’It feels better now. But it still feels funny. In a good way.’ A pleasant feeling filled his back, and continued to spread. ’Mmm. In a really good way.’ The feeling filled his traps, and continued to his pecs. ’Are you okey?’ ’Mmm. Oh. Umm. Yes, I’m okey. It…’ The feeling changed into a burning feeling in his abs, and he felt how a strange but pleasant feeling of hardness filled his shoulders and his quads. ’Oh. Carl. Do you see it, or is it just my imagination?’ ’See what?’ It now filled him entirely, from the stubble on his head to his fingers and toes. It was different from the subtle changes at the other times, it was… ’John. I can’t believe this. It looks like you are growing.’ John moaned, and then arched with a short scream. He tensed his biceps, and felt how he tensed his pecs. The fabric of his t-shirt couldn’t take the strain anymore. With a ripping sound, Johns growing biceps split the short sleeves of the shirt apart, while his growing shoulders and neck tore asunder the rest of the shirt. ’It’s bloody unbelievable, John. It’s like a frigging dream. Do you feel alright?’ ’So good… So good… Yes. Yes. It’s happening.’ The flame of the candle flickered, consumed the last remains of the oily wax, and went out with a silent puff. ’IT’S HAPPENING!!!’ John felt how his body convulsed in a pleasant way. ’Uhnnn. Uhnnn. Oh yes… Uhnnn. More!’ Carl was rigid with fear. And something else. Then, he reached out his hand towards John’s chest, and touched John’s growing left pec. With a sigh and a smile, John’s growing right arm grabbed Carl around his waist, and let Carl fall with his face on John’s pecs. A few seconds he struggled, and then relaxed. John could feel a kiss on his left pec. John let his left hand caress the stubble on the backside of Carl’s head. John could hear Carl mumble: ’I’m fucking dreaming. This is unreal.’ ’If it is a dream, you are free to do whatever you would like to do in a dream’, John answered, but whatever he had tried to say was abruptly cut off by another wave of growth. He moaned and groaned of pleasure. ’Oh, yeah. Grow for me mate. My best friend becoming a bruiser… Oh. This is so good. These mountains of power…’ Carl sat on John’s groin, touching John’s biceps with his hands. ’Oooh.’ Carl leaned forward and kissed John’s right bicep, and then licked it. ’Oooh. It’s still growing. You are still… Oh. This is so good.’ John felt how he became hard down there too. Carl must have noticed. He slide from the bed, removed his shirt and trousers, and then began to remove John’s trousers, but they were stuck on John’s large and still growing calves. ’Oooh. Uhn. Mmmm. Yes.’, John deliriously exclaimed. Carl gave up his attempt to remove John’s trousers, and directed his concentration on John’s shoulders, grabbing one with each hand, whimpering lustfully at the touch. ’Oh. My buddy, the warrior. My mate, the hero. My friend, the… the war god. This is so bloody good. So fucking unreal. So, ummm.’ John’s mobile phone rang, but they were both too excited to notice. Carl’s steel hard rod, although still decked by pants, had touched John’s bulging and steel hard abs, and he shivered at the sensation. Another lustful whimpering escaped his mouth. John could feel Carl rubbing his groin against John’s abs, and it felt good. He was able to drive his friend crazy of admiration. Another wave filled him. He bellowed, and distantly felt how his calves split the seams of his trousers, releasing him from any restraining clothes. His dick found its way between Carl’s thighs. Carl moaned. John looked up on Carl, smiled and tensed both his biceps. Carl held his breath, and something began to pulsate wildly inside Carl’s pants. Again. And again. And again. The last stages of John’s transformation were still going on, when Carl regained the similitude of awareness of his surroundings. Veins began to cover John’s chest, legs and biceps, and all muscles protruded well-defined in a manner suitable for the best junior bodybuilders. A blissful smile was upon John’s face, his eyes closed. He breathed quickly. Carl readjusted his position, and sat between John’s knees, grabbed John’s rod with his right hand, and pulled it a few times. It didn’t need much encouragement, until it ecstatically exploded in his grip, and pulsated in a powerful ultra-masculine way between his fingers and his palm. In a voice, deeper than before, John asked Carl: ’Why didn’t you tell me before?’ * * * Chapter Four is here, but doesn't contain any growth: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13032-with-a-little-help-from-magic-chapter-four/

This chapter's a little light but it's to make the next chapter more impressive Get ready for rapid narrator change Belly Down Part 6 “Go, Ken, Go!” “Go,Ken,Go!” I was watching intently with as much motivation as I could for Kenny but it was tough to focus on the match. It had taken him two months to grow into quite a celebrity. Kenny would see me every blue moon but I cant say I didn’t evade him intentionally. I could feel something about him change and, in tandum, change me. I used to love his shyness and his extra consideration and even his tight little frame. Then something changed before the break and nothing remained the same. For example— Suddenly, Kenny slammed his beefy opponent on the blue mat and there was a loud smack as the poor guy’s body collided with the soft material. The referee gave the count and an explosion set off in the audience. People who knew Kenny cheered loudly for him. Kenny jumped up and flexed confidently for the crowd and two thick biceps appeared on his arms. My cock shot down my leg as I saw his butt flex in the ridiculously tight spandex. The team ran up to him and group hugged him clumsily almost knocking the entire group down. Kenny was lifted on his team’s broad shoulders in victory. He’d been the last match and he’d devastated his opponent. The guy got up defeated and returned to his group but I saw him for what he was actually doing. Though not entirely, the man’s cock was hardened and poking forward in his hidden jockstrap and was a darker color towards the end. I felt pretty bad for him but it was overshadowed by my happiness for Kenny. I saw him coming towards be for my praise, a big grin on his face, and I almost pulled back. That feeling again. “How’d I do, Casey?” he asked excitedly, waiting for my personal view. I couldn’t take him down after all his work. “Great, buddy, you definitely sweeped him off his feet!” I said. He grinned and flexed a bicep. “He was pretty light for a guy at 189! I think he forgot to eat a few more protein bars!” I tried to keep my eyes to Kenny’s face and he was kind enough to aid. His face had gotten sharper and more masculine in the last two months. His eyes sparked more than before and flashed occasionally with a kind of inner light, making his eyes bluer. His freckles had reduced greatly and were fading two by two everyday. His cheekbones were stronger and higher. His brows were bigger and shapely, framed by his stronger brow. All of this was framed in a jaw line that flexed when he flexed anything. I dared not test him too much in fear his powerful jaw would flare at me. Wait, what? I suddenly thought. Why am I ‘afraid’ of that? Kenny was still pretty gentle although he was more social and more confident. Besides his growth from 5’9 to 5’11 and up to almost 200 pounds of striated meat, he was a teddy bear. “I just felt so much sudden power near the end! I felt so strong!” Kenny exclaimed excitedly, his face a ray of red-headed sunshine to me. I couldn’t be in a more equal form of excitement and hesitation. --- Casey and I were coming back from an early dinner when people started noticing me and I received a shower of cat calls. “Tearing ‘em apart, huh, Ken?!” one of the jocks from the swim team called. “Ken! Ken! Ken!” chanted some quirky looking computer club fans. I didn’t realize I was puffing out my chest as I walked down the street with Casey beside me. Seeming to grow with my own impressiveness as each individual fan passed by and gave me more praise. I looked over at Casey and couldn’t help getting kind of upset. He was still plenty big compared to be at 220 and 6’2 although he’d begun to lose a teeny bit definition, the veins becoming a little less visible, trying to gain a little weight for the upper weight classes. I on the other hand was starting to gain some real weight. My body pushed against my clothes tightly and I felt my butt press against the seat of my jeans, a new feeling but also kind of exciting. My back pushed my hoodie further than before, making the size pointless as my girth started to become noticeable. Why did I wear clothes anyway? I was practically naked at the last competition, after all. Coach was proud of me but he was starting to struggle upping the sizes for my uniforms and tea hoodie. Already the last replacement was pressing against my shoulders, chest, and back more than they did when he’d purchased them for a slightly smaller Kenny at 185 pounds two weeks ago. Plus, it didn’t help I was unsure how to respond to the looks I was getting. Left and right, people were starting to look at me in what I registered as ‘unnecessary’ glances. Sure, my clothes were kind of tight but not super noticeable, right? We turned the corner and I saw it again. A female math teacher whose class I went to last semester was eyeing me like I was a math problem she just HAD to solve. It was a little... uncomfortable for me. I tried to look back kindly and sincerely but it was hard. Everyone always gave me that look as if I wasn’t wearing any clothes at all. I saw Casey look at me too but that was different. I was a little embarrassed watching him look at me that way, making me almost wish my pants weren’t so tight and my legs weren’t so wide and my back didn’t show so much and my waist weren’t so tight and firm. The other side of me was different though. I wanted him to look. I wanted him to see how good I was starting to look and be proud of my accomplishments and show some sign he was interested. I just wish he’d do it where I could see him and not slightly behind me as we walked down the street. “Hey” Casey called. I immediately ignored every other person ogling my tight jeans and turned my neck and raised my eyes to show my attention. “Yeah?” I asked intently. I was clinging to his words and I didn’t know it. “Why does everyone call you that now? Ken?” he asked, looking away from me for some reason. Why wasn’t he making eye contact. The sunset was making his face look redder than usual so I couldn’t tell. Or… maybe it wasn’t the sun? “Uh… long story” I said, trying to brush off what had happened. “You wouldn’t want to hear the details to it.” He looked at me eye to eye now, though his eyes darted down to the ground occasionally. Was he always this shy or was this a new thing? “I liked it when you were still Kenny…” he said, trailing off near the end. I looked at him intently, trying to read his face. “What do you mean, I’m still Kenny” I tried to reassure him. He didn’t look at me when I said that. He passed me and sped up with his longer legs and didn’t say anything but I saw his lips move. Being the youngest and smallest of many brothers who were all much much taller than you, you became adept at reading lips from a distance without getting noticed. Did he say ‘Are you’? I asked inwardly. Nick didn’t say anything snappy this time. Almost as if he thought it would be more fun to let me squirm. --- “Done” said Nick from in my head as though he'd been cooking an egg inside, his voice decipherable but still like multiple of him speaking. I was in the shower again, wiping down my body from the day’s sweat out in the sunset in a hoodie. Spring wasn’t made for thick hoodies. I was rubbing my soap covered hand down my stomach, my abdominals flexing and bunching, the skin glistening as if it were tight to the skin. I’d only just started getting used to looking down and seeing my body, my meek personality giving birth to someone with more physical confidence. “Done?” I said with uncertainty. Nick sounding excited never led to anything good. “Oh, hush, This one’ll be fun” Nick said as he appeared in the reflection of the shower porcelain, his red eyes looking back at Nick. “Your body is barely passable now” he said as he also mimicked my rubbing my legs down but in a more seductive way. God, I wish he could act like my reflection for once. “That’s boring. Anyway, shush up. I have things to say” he said as he put his hands on my now muscular hips and grinned. “We’re going out tomorrow tonight.” “What? What does that mean?” “What does it sound like? Your body is durable enough to do the hero thing.” “Jumping off buildings??” “No, dumbass, I said BARELY passable. We need to let you do smaller things before we head up to that. Tonight’s my last night solo.” I still couldn’t fathom how Nick had tricked me into accepting the fact he was using me like a doll in my sleep. It wasn’t the fact that I was parading around as a super hero all night, my face was covered so no one saw. It was the fact that I was jumping off buildings and crushing cars and running into walls without any permission given. Somehow, we’d come to the agreement that, as long as I don’t get revealed, he could SAFELY have his fun. I wasn’t looking forward to giving him permission to do it. Or was I? "Uh oh, looks like your friend is awake again" Nick chimed. I looked down and frowned a little. My cock was getting harder to keep in check lately and it didnt help it had gotten another inch longer, the 9 inch length wagging with every movement of my hips. With no hesitation, I started rubbing up and down the length, my toes curling as I felt my body parts tingle with the mixed impacts of dropping water and pleasure. I didn't know what I would do if I didn't have two showers a day. --- “We’re here in the central plaza speaking to an individual citizens recognize as ‘The Red Menace’. Thanks to our chance encounter, we’re allowed an exclusive from none other than the super hero himself. Red Menace, what makes you want to come out here and save these people? How do you know when these things are going to happen? Government officials who call this their home town ask ‘aren’t your consistent appearances at these crime scenes a little too coincidental’?” The 5’7 reporting, red lipped, dark haired woman holding her microphone in a tight yellow skirt with her camera close behind her and focused on ‘The Red Menace’ held the silence and waited for the hero to speak. She looked at his lips and felt compelled to come close and touch them with her own. She was trying to hide it but she was already moist between the legs trying to talk to him. He grinned a handsome grin at the question and his eyes flashed a little. “Well Ms. Dare, I’m just an average man walking around like the rest of you. Well on roofs” he started, fueling the nearby crowd with laughter. “I just pass by these incidents, car chases, bank robbers, and crooks by accident. I don’t know what your sources say but I have nothing to do with these crimes. I just come and save people. If these ‘government officials’ really are that suspicious of me and this city, they might want to do a favor to the public and fix it themselves. Until then, I’m going to give you all a little hand. Cool?” With that, the Red Menace jumped up into the night sky towards a nearby 10 foot building and was gone in the blink of an eye. The reporter, Ms. Dare, looked off into the night, looking as though she wanted to chase after him but she pulled herself back. She looked back at the camera flustered but forced herself into one piece after her encounter with the hero. “Bb-Back to you Jeff” --- A single man in red suit leaned back in his comfy chair, his eyes on the television. His broad shoulders competed with the wide chair and his hair slicked back in a simple fashion. His angular and fierce features were more imposing in the dim lighting. The entire room’s theme of red made him fit right in with his sinisterly dark hair and his reddened, flashing eyes. He remained straightforward and didn’t react to the flashing of the large flat screen tv over his fireplace as he glared into it. “Bb-back to you Jeff” the screen said before he roared and made the tv crack and shatter with the overpowering sound. It was like a terrifying reach of death’s hand coming and yanking your mind out. “There’s no need for any further investigation, Musisin, your peer has gone astray” the man said as he turned around and faced a man on the opposite side of his desk. Unlike the rest of the room, the man on the opposite side seemed younger and didn’t match their surroundings with his blue tie, blue skin, and white hair. He looked petrified in his stance on the opposing side after watching his duke destroy the nearby television with merely a shout. He was too afraid of having his head sliced off by the man’s large and imposing frame. His red glare seemed to cut through him almost. “You have one job. Find him, kill his vessel, and collect him. I don’t know what type of experimental mess he’s creating now but I won’t have it without any kind of consensual request. Is that clear?” he boomed to the blue-ish man. “Sir, yes, sir” To Be Continued…….

Chapter one is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7118-with-a-little-help-from-magic-chapter-one/ With a little help from magic Chapter Two Twelfth Night came and went. Spring semester began. Aram hadn’t seen John for a couple of weeks. During Christmas Break, Aram’s family had went to another city, to spend Christmas with relatives. In order to use the holidays for something useful, Aram had brought books from the public library with him, and he had spent Christmas reading a voluminous handbook on anatomy and a monograph on constitutional matters. The books went far beyond what he was expected to read, from his teachers point of view, but Aram wanted to quench his insatiable thirst for more knowledge, and it wouldn’t hurt his grades for sure. It had been a fascinating experience to follow John’s development during autumn and beginning of winter. It was rather common that beginners at the gym got initial results pretty quick, when their bodies adjusted to something entirely new and unfamiliar, but John’s results went far beyond what could be expected of that usual effect. At the Halloween party he had been lean and defined, but during November and December he had began to fill out and approaching a heavier build. One of the trainers had demanded John to hand in a urine sample, since the gym didn’t tolerate steroid abuse among its members, but it came back negative. Concerning exercise, Aram was slightly disappointed with himself. He hadn’t improved his results at all in October and November. In December he couldn’t any longer lift the weights he was used to. He had got a bad cold then, and guessed that it could have something to do with it, but there was also a nagging suspicion back in his head, that his decreased ability could have something to do with Madame Cremorna – that is, if what she did really worked. His scientifically-inclined mind was of two thoughts when it came to the highly eccentric lady in the shop. He missed Emma. They had been an item for years, and life was suddenly missing someone he had begun to take for granted. He missed her warm presence, the scent of her hair and the funny way she giggled. Just as he thought about her, she happened to coincidentally pass by, on the way to her locker. ’Hey, Emma! How was Christmas?’ She looked surprised. Unusually surprised. ’Aram? Nice of you to ask. It was good, but nothing special. And you?’ She looked at him differently than he was used to. The situation felt odd. ’The thing we talked about in the end of the semester. There is no way for you to reconsider?’ ’Talked about? Reconsider? I am not sure that I understand exactly what you are talking about?’ ’About…’ Then it struck him, that he could remember two different strings of events – two different pasts existing simultaneously, side by side. In one of the pasts he and Emma had never been a couple. He felt strange. ’Do you feel okey?’ ’Yes, just a little bit dizzy. Thank you. See you at math class.’ ’Don’t exercise too much. I think it is so sweet of John to teach you how to exercise at the gym, but you have to take it easy in the beginning.’ * * * John had been able to indulge in two workouts a day during Christmas holidays, and the gym had been unusually sparsely visited during these weeks. He had eaten traditional Christmas dishes for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, but then returned to his highly well-planned eating plan. He had risen early the first day of the spring semester, and executed a cardio workout at the gym before school day. When he arrived to his locker he heard Peter’s voice on the other side the row of lockers: ’Oi! Swotter! I’m talking to you!’ ’Right. Now his gaze is penetrating lockers as well.’, John thought for himself, and braced himself for the upcoming troubles, but Peter went on, talking on the other side the row. What was going on? John followed the row, and peeked around the corner. Peter, Anderson and two of their friends stood in a semi-circle around Aram, tugging his laptop. ’What the hell are you doing?’, John shouted. Peter and his friends turned around. ’Oh, hello John. Don’t worry. We are just having some fun with Swotter here. Not your business.’ A feeling of unreality lowered itself over the scene. ’Not my business? After all the hell you have given me?’ ’What are you talking about? Only a fool would mess with you, meathead.’ ’Uh. That may be right, but it doesn’t change what you did just a few months ago, does it?’ ’What the hell are you talking about? We were friends in the hockey team once, if you don’t remember? Why would I roughhouse you?’ The feeling of unreality became more intense. John’s facial expression must have been weird, since Peter loosened his grip around Aram’s jacket, and nodded to his friends to leave, quickly following them. As they left the place, John could hear Anderson say: ’Did you see his face? I don’t know what he is on, but I hadn’t dared to stay in the case he got into roid rage, would you?’ * * * When John bought his winter jacket last winter, it had been considerably too large, but since he was still growing, he had expected it to fit better this winter, and anyhow it was useful to wear a jacket that would permit him to wear a warm jersey. December had been rather mild, and the snow that fell several times had melted away. After Twelfth night the weather had changed, a lot of snow had fallen, and it was now minus ten Centigrades. When he was on his way to the gym this morning, he had found that his jacket was too small, despite it had fit perfectly days before, and his jeans were too short. A lot of weird stuff was going on. His unkept hair had changed into a style with shaved sides and the remaining hair kept in thin braids covering the top of the head. Aram hadn’t believed his eyes when he saw John earlier in the day. It was the first time in his life – as he remembered the past – someone had tried to bully him, and he appreciated John’s help. John’s growth during autumn had been fast, but still within the limits of his physical constitution. It was different now. During the holidays John had grown at least a decimetre in height, and his bones must have restructured themselves. His chest and his shoulders were broader, and his hips and waist were narrower. Although Carl didn’t workout together with John and Aram every time, he had promised to accompany them at the gym today. Carl arrived with melting snow flakes on his black bomber jacket, and it took him some time to untie the shoestrings of his shiny black boots. He began to change into sportswear. John looked good in sportswear. The T-shirt was snug, but the drawstring cotton trousers were baggy enough to hide his obviously big legs somewhat. They all trained legs today, ending the workout with heavy weights in the calf rise machine. ’I feel a little bit strange, today.’, said Aram when they had returned to the locker room. ’Uhuh.’, answered John. ’I have felt strange, too.’, and tried to relieve himself from the sweatdrenched T-shirt. With a ripping sound he involuntarily happened to tear it into pieces instead. ’O shit!’, John exclaimed, distracted from the thought of any strangeness. ’It was the second time this week. I must buy larger training clothes.’ Aram stared at John. It was no surprise that John was muscular now, but the shape of John’s naked torso went far beyond what Aram had expected. Carl stared as well on the perfect traps and shoulders of John. On the perfect roundness of John’s pecs. On the valley between the pecs, continuing in a valley between his abs. Although Aram was the only one of them who knew the words for obliques, iliac furrow and serratus, Carl stared on them just as much as Aram, if not more. Carl sat down on a bench, but immediately changed his mind and left for the loo. When they were alone, Aram could manage to have a word with John. ’It must sound crazy, but it feels like reality is changing.’, said Aram. ’That’s exactly how I feel it. So it’s not only me?’, answered John. In low voices, so that Carl wouldn’t hear their discussion from the bathroom, they discussed their experiences. It turned out that they both remembered last semester – and actually their entire lives before that – in the same way: John had been short, shy, scrawny and interested in wildlife. Aram had been extremely fit, confident and brawny. John had been teaching Aram most of their schoolwork subjects during autumn. But both of them could also remember another, more dimly and vaguely recollected, past, in which John had always been built and interested in sports, Aram always had been thin and achieving good grades, and John had began to teach Aram about exercise. It seemed like the rest of the school only remembered the reality the two of them regarded as less real. They didn’t manage to continue this trail of thoughts. Carl returned from the loo, and interrupted. ’My jacket is suddenly too small. I have to buy a new one in a size that allows me to grow.’, John told them. ’Then I know the perfect store for you.’, answered Carl, and looked at his watch. ’If we hurry, we will get there in time before it close.’ They got on the tram. It was full of people on their way home from work, and the floor was wet of melting snow. John was freezing, since his jacket was too small, and he was only wearing a tight t-shirt, which felt too snug. Some people couldn’t avoid staring. John felt of two minds about this. It was a new experience. They left the tram. ’Is it far from here? I’m freezing.’ ’Who wouldn’t freeze in this weather? Although you have the look of a hard fucker who could endure anything. You know that?’ John felt flattered and embarrassed, but it didn’t change the outdoors temperature. They took left into a cobblestone-paved alley, and soon found the shop John had mentioned. It was still open. Posters for bands, mainly punk rock bands, covered the black painted walls. A clock on the wall looked like the symbol for the British Royal Air Force. From the ceiling hung the symbol of London Underground. When John viewed the room, several styles of clothes hung from rackets or were displayed on shelves, ranging from stylish overcoats and expensive lamb’s wool jerseys to the sort of provocative clothes Emelie used to wear. ’Just tell me if you need any help’, said the shop owner, who sat behind the counter with earphones plugged into his ears. ’It’s fine. I know where to look.’, answered Carl. And so he did. ’You said you need something wide, with room to let you grow. Why haven’t you considered an Alpha bomber jacket like mine?’ ’Oh. Eh. I don’t listen to your music.’ ’Lots of people use bombers nowadays, even the bloody hipsters. You have always dressed like you are shy of yourself, and I haven’t understood why. Which colour do you like?’ ’Uh. Blue.’ Carl handed him a bomber jacket in a metallic blue colour. John tried it on. It felt comfortable, and although it had lot of room for results from the gym, it didn’t look too large. John watched his own reflection in the mirror. The jacket suited him. ’It was perhaps not a bad idea after all. Do they have wide trousers as well?’ ’Most jeans are too skinny for your legs. I would suggest army style cargo trousers.’ ’Don’t you think that would look silly? Or angry? Or nazi?’ ’Last time I checked, a lot of my anti-racist friends wore cargo trousers. It’s not like the 90’s any more. Here, try this pair with city camo. But, of course, you need a pair of boots to match.’ Carl began to evaluate the shelves with boots. John found a pair of boots he liked. He observed himself in the mirror. Although covering his body, his new style accentuated his new physique, and he looked intimidating, in a way he never had before. It felt unreal and like he was doing something forbidden, but it also felt good. John payed for his new winter clothes, and they left the shop. It had began to snow again. His new jacket kept him warm. * * * Emelie sat in the school cafeteria steaming of anger. Her glass of water lay before her, its content running over the table. She tried to stop it with napkins. ’Emelie? What’s happening?’ It was Aram. Absentmindedly he used his two used napkins to stop the water from staining Emelies dress or the floor. ’Oh, sorry for the mess. I just talked to Emma.’ ’Emma? What has happened to her. She’s nice.’ Aram uncomfortably remembered Emma from another reality. Her scent. Her laugh. Sex with her. Her sense of humour. ’Emma has got a new boyfriend, and we quarrelled.’ Aram felt a short sting of jealousy, and quickly realised that he had no reason to – in this reality. ’A new boyfriend? Who?’ Emelie had the expression of an elderly aunt in an acerbic mood when she answered: ’Anderson.’ * * * It was his eating day, he tried to convince himself, when he was on his way home from an evening out with Carl and his friends. It had become a lot of comparatively cheap and unhealthy pub food and several pints of beer. The SHARPS were a friendly bunch, but had tested him initially with a rude sense of humour. John soon fell into the jargon. It was very unpretentious. The winter night was cold. Snow covered the grassy slopes, and frost glimmered from the stairs of stone up to the council-flat neighbourhood. ’It was good, Carl. I want to do it again.’ ’Workouts are good, and I admire your discipline with food – I could never manage to follow rules like that – but you got to have fun now and then, aren’t you?’ John followed Carl home. Carl’s parents had went to bed. Trying to be silent, but laughing loudly, the lads their boots and jackets in the passage, and then went to Carl’s room. ’And as I said before, there’s no hurry to become a skinhead even if you were interested. I hate poseurs just as much as the other lads.’ ’Poseurs?’ ’Yes. Idiots full of themselves, who one day decides to come in from nowhere and adopt the skinhead surface with no content. They usually care nothing about the music, and a few months later they go after another fad. They come in several flavours: There’s the racist idiots, who know nothing about skins before ’82 or about SHARP, and there’s the hipsters, and there’s the gays.’ ’The gays?’ John blushed somewhat, and tried to not blush. ’Believe it or not. Some gays think that we are hot, so they try to look like us.’ John expressed some noncommittal noises. ’Which is rather flattering in a sense, but I don’t want a fifty year old daddy panting me in my neck, if you know what I say. Understand me correct: I am all for LGB rights – I’m a leftie for God’s sake – and I am not against some skins happening to be gay. What people do in their beds is their own business. I just want people to enter the scene out of the right motives. If you hate ska or oi!, can’t take a punch, and lack a sense of style, you don’t belong. Any upper class twat can shave his head, but he will not get what skinhead is about. Nor will the idiots who only want a pretext to pick a fight. They are just poseurs, all of them. And the boneheads have no flair for style: Have you ever seen a bonehead wearing a crombie coat? And they prefer threadbare WP t-shirts before a perfect Ben Sherman.’ * * * ’You will never believe what happened during lunchtime today.’, John told Carl while they helped the melocore club moving the large loud-speakers. ’No? What happened?’, Carl asked. ’Peter asked me if he could join me training at the gym.’ ’You are kidding me. Peter is a racist wanker. I suppose you told him to go to hell.’ ’No. At first, I couldn’t believe it was happening, but he seemed to be honest about it, and it sounded like he didn’t want to hang around Anderson anymore.’ ’What if it is just a trick?’ ’I don’t know. Perhaps this could let us put some pressure on him to stop behaving like an idiot.’ ’It’s easy for you to say, John. You have never been bullied. I have seen what Peter is capable of, and it’s not pretty. For Aram’s sake, you should say no.’ The discussion was interrupted, when Simon entered the room. He gave some directions. The room was soon ready for a concert. ’I hope you stand by our agreement?’, Carl said to Simon. ’We help you with this, and your club will pay for an oi! and ska themed Saturday in two months.’ ’Yes. Yes, of course. That’s the deal. Why do you repeat yourself all the time?’, answered Simon. * * * Aram’s mother didn’t approve of his new look. He was slowly untying the green shoelaces of his boots, when she asked: ’John, you have always been a nice boy. Why, of a sudden, do you look like a nazi?’ ’Sorry Mrs A., but I don’t look like nazi.’ ’That jacket and those boots. I have heard about nazis who look like that.’ ’He’s right, mom’, Aram interrupted. ’There’s a lot of anti-racists who sport that look, nowadays.’ Mrs A. looked slightly confused. ’Back when I was in your age, only nazis looked like that.’ ’The nazis were probably the visible ones, back then. But the roots of skinhead culture goes further back, before the split between racists and anti-racists within the culture. It was originally about Jamaican music. Oi! music was added in the 70’s. The split between racist skins and anti-racist skins took place in 1982. The racist skins are seldom seen anymore, at least in this country. The far right guys went on to wear ties and suits or became rockers or were assimilated by the casuals. Actually, I don’t understand why the far right guys tried to nick a culture about Jamaican music to begin with. And by the way, I’m not a skinhead yet, anyhow. I’ve got hair.’ 'If you call that hair.' Aram’s mother still didn’t look like she knew what to believe, but began putting dishes on the table. ’I’m glad that you help Aram with exercise. He only read books before.’ ’Mum!’, Aram protested indignantly. John recognized the situation too well: What is it with parents who behave like you still are fourteen or something? John continued to chat politely with Aram’s mother, while they ate a salad of parsley and fried breadcrumbs, chicken, chickpea sauce, and olives. After the meal Aram and John went into Aram’s room. It looked different from what John could remember. The posters of hockey players had disappeared. A novena candle similar to John’s own stood in the window. Aram had two bookshelves from IKEA, filled with books about natural science, mostly about biology and medicine. John watched the books confused. He could remember how he once had been able to understand the content of books like these, but he also became acutely aware of that he wasn’t able to digest their content anymore. The world felt weird, like it changed around him. ’Aram, I need to talk to you.’, John said. ’Same here. Carl is always present when we meet at the gym, so I haven’t got any opportunity. Not since our homework Tuesdays ended.’ ’Homework Tuesdays? You do remember them? No one else seem to remember, and no one else seem to remember that you once were almost as big as I am now.’ ’So you remember, too? It sounded like you did at the gym a few weeks ago, but I wasn’t sure.’ ’You will probably not believe me, but it feels like I have lived in two different realities, and now only the better reality is left. It feel so good that the other reality has disappeared.’ ’You seem to like it?’ ’Do you remember the same other reality as I do?’ ’I believe so, but I am not sure. Why do you ask?’ ’There was not much to like in the other reality, so of course I prefer this one. You don’t have to be a genius to understand that.’ ’Oh.’ ’Oh, what?’ Aram’s eyes and eyebrows expressed several feelings, exactly what wasn’t easy to interpret. ’Oh… The thing I liked with the other reality, was my success at the gym and in martial arts.’ ’Yes. I admit that that detail must have been good for you. For you. For me that other reality was hell. Whatever is happening, it is for the better.’ ’I’m glad to hear that. Eh. Uh…’ ’What are you trying to say?’ ’John. I love science. I want to dedicate my life to science, but there seem to be some things that are beyond scientific explanations.’ ’Perhaps there are. I haven’t thought much about it, but generally people would call me a sceptic.’ ’But you can’t explain away what’s happening to us. You know that it is real?’ ’It could have been me becoming mentally ill, but not if the same thing happens to both of us independently.’ ’Precisely. I can’t expect you to believe me, but I think… Eh. Uh. Ehrm…’ Aram rose from the chair before his computer, and reached the window. ’This novena candle. And yours. I bought them from a crazy lady… No, she wasn’t crazy. She was very sane, but very odd. She claimed that you and I could have our highest wishes come true through these, but at a cost.’ ’A cost?’ ’It seems like I became a perfect science student, but losing my muscles, while you became a poorer science student, when you achieved all that muscle.’ John felt suddenly aroused. He had packed on a lot of beef. It felt good, so much better than being like he was before. But losing his skills in biology was the price to pay? To hell with biology. The feel of these… He put his right hand on his left pec and squeezed. It felt good. He rose from the bed, standing before Aram with his full height. ’Are you angry at me?’ John hugged him. Aram could feel the presence of John’s muscular physique pressed against him. Aram could also feel that John’s dick was stiff, which made him uncomfortable. ’Angry? Why should I be angry with you? You have given me a gift. You could have asked first, but then I could have refused it as a bad joke, so probably you couldn’t have asked before. I love how reality has turned out to be.’ Aram looked relieved. ’Oh, another thing. Peter want to join us at the gym, but I wanted to ask you first.’ * * * Chapter three is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7668-with-a-little-help-from-magic-chapter-three/

Preface Dear muscledrain, You wanted a magic switch of brains and brawn. I could have chosen to make the protagonist a black-metal kid called Moonsorrow Bloodpain, who invoked Cthulhu,* or something similar, to facilitate the magic, but then both himself and his recently muscular friend would eventually have been eaten by unnamable and eldritch primordial spacegods* of the elder days, and – as I understood your story idea – you expected something slightly more feelgood than that. But which sort of magic would be feelgood? Classical gods from Greece and Rome transforming mortal men is a story idea already used several times over at Metabods (Dionysus and Mars, if I remember correctly), so that idea was already taken. It then struck me, that some people out there IRL believe in a sort of magic Moonsorrow Bloodpain definitely would shun: Hoodoo – which is a mix of native Congolese religion, Protestantism, Dutch folklore, Catholicism (since the 1960’s) and slight traces of renaissance esotericism. It would probably be feelgood enough. But then another dilemma emerged: Which red-blooded, sports obsessed young male in a predominantly Agnostic environment would get the idea to even ask an eccentric and mysterious hoodoo lady for help? I then realised that bodybuilding and martial arts are very popular among young Syriac men, and that they – however laddish they are indeed – often have an honest respect for the saints. I have also observed that a lot of MMA fighters like to wear rosaries. Some of my former neighbours are Syriacs – very nice and friendly people with a flair for making good food. This is the way one of the protagonists was invented. I want to thank sithspawn, CardiMuscleman, mrk78, yourself, and some others for very valuable linguistic and stylistic advice. To write in a foreign language is full of potential errors. Any remaining errors are my own fault. Just as Northern Americans (and I don’t mean Canadians and Bahamians at the moment) let their Muscle Growth Stories take place in the US (or in a fictitious country identical to the US when it comes to educational system and cultural patterns, such as sports scholarships, pompoms, American football and resident colleges), I will, as a Swede, let the following story occur in a fictitious country with an educational system and cultural patterns indistinguishable from the Swedish ones: an academic year consisting of two semesters (not three terms), no school uniforms, pupils/students living at home with their parents at least until the age of 19, mixed social backgrounds at many (but not all) schools, and Agnostics observing Christian holidays. The difference between working class and middle class is probably more subtle and fluid over here than in other parts of the world – at least that was my impression on vacation in UK and Italy. The city in the story is, however, a city that never was. It will be futile, if any other Scandinavians reading this will try to figure out exactly where the story takes place: Everywhere and nowhere. The spelling of surnames have been anglicised. That wasn’t, however, necessary with the first names, which could pass for many nationalities just as they are. Comics readers: Look out for the easter egg. I hope you will have fun! Addenda * Long after writing this introduction, I actually wrote a horror story about Lovecraftesque forgotten eldritch primordial spacegods, called Professor Schnackenburg's mistake. With a little help from magic Chapter One The cold wind pushed the red and yellow leaves over the schoolyard with a rustling sound. The sky was steel-grey and unforgiving. Inside the brick-building housing the sixth-form school, lockers were clattering, and the sound of many voices blended into a tiresome murmur. Feet swiftly hurried to lecture rooms. John had put his rucksack in his locker, and was taking his chemistry book out, when he heard a disturbingly familiar voice behind him: ’Isn’t it Swotter? Oi! Swotter, I’m speaking to you!’ The eighteen-year-old closed the locker, and tried to look in another direction. Sometimes it worked. ’Look at me, when I’m talking to you!’ A hand on his shoulder. A foot behind his heel. Suddenly, John found himself on the floor and the chemistry book a few metres to the left, between another row of lockers. It was Peter and his friends. As usual. Peter and his little crowd of followers had made primary school, secondary school and the initial two years of sixth form a living hell for John, and there was no sign that anything would change, until John left for university in another city and Peter’s gang left school, most likely in order to face unemployment. Peter put his black cowboy boot on John’s chest. Like his chums, Peter had enthusiastically embraced the 50’s revival when it became fashionable, and they all tried really hard to look like exaggerated stereotypes of 50’s rockers. Most of them wore black leather jackets, unbleached denim jeans, and white T-shirts or plaid shirts, and they had put some gunk in their hair and combed it in a 1950’s style. Unlike some of his friends, Peter hadn’t been able to afford a leather jacket, so he wore a cheap denim jacket instead, and had sewn a Confederate flag on it, in the belief that ’that was very rock’n’roll’. ’Is that an army jersey, Swotter? Considering joining the forces?’ John felt embarrassed. If he kept silent, it would just go on. If he answered, the result would be identical. ’It is a hunter’s jersey.’ ’We didn’t know you were hunting! Did we, lads?’ ’I don’t, but I take photographs of rare birds. The jersey protects from cold weather.’ ’Scared of blood, I see. It wouldn’t be a good idea to join the army then? Would it, Swotter?’ ’I said it isn’t an army jersey. Ouch!’ Peter had moved his boot to John’s Adam’s apple. ’Listen very carefully. If I were you, I wouldn’t insult our brave boys in green by wearing that jersey, whatever you call it. Now take it off!’ ’But… Ouch!’ Peter increased the pressure on John’s Adam’s apple, then removed his foot, and came closer to John, sitting in a squatting position. Peter grabbed John’s jersey, and minuscule stains of spit rained on John’s face when Peter shouted. ’Now, you little pansy, you take that jersey off – either putting it in the cafeteria dust-bin or giving it to Anderson here. He deserves it better than you. Isn’t that right Anderson?’ Anderson, a blond football player, about the same height as John, but considerably more athletic, had been a henchman of Peter for years. He had a smug grin on his face. ’And what do you think you are doing, you friggin’ racist?’ Peter and his friends had to turn around. John rose from the floor, dusted away spots of sand from his clothes, and looked for his chemistry book. The newcomer who had spoken was Simon, the tall leftie intellectual from the other science class. Peter leered at him. It seemed that he had met Simon before. ’Don’t meddle, Simon. This isn’t your concern.’ ’Sure it is. Yesterday, you and your gang bullied Aram’s little brother and neighbour. But after what I can see today, you like to bully anyone, regardless of origin. Ridiculous greasers!’ John adjusted his eyeglasses, and now saw that Simon wasn’t alone. He had brought Aram, the brawny Syriac hockey guy, and Carl, the anti-racist skinhead, with him. Although Peter and his friends outnumbered Simon and his friends with five to three, Peter sized up his opponents a few seconds. Although not very muscular (but rather on the slim side), Simon was tall, and it was well-known at the school that he had practiced kung-fu, before his deep commitment in the Anarchist Student Society, Amnesty International, the local melocore club (and a handful of other associations) had limited the time available on exercise. Two years ago, Simon and John had served together in the Student Council, and John had appreciated Simon’s wit. Carl was shorter than Simon, but taller than Aram. He spent some time at the gym, but not as strictly and devotedly as Aram obviously did. His shaved head gave him an aggressive demeanour, and that impression was enhanced by the gauge in his earlobe, his snug fitting maroon polo shirt, the blue braces that contrasted well against the maroon background, the bleached jeans, and the extremely well-polished, heavy and steel-capped boots on his feet. His black Alpha bomber jacket was covered with patches and pins: ’Skinheads Against Racial Prejudice’, ’The Oppressed’, ’The Burial’, ’Operation Ivy’, ’FC St. Pauli’. He oozed of angry adolescent masculinity. Aram was of average height, but more broad-shouldered than any of the young men. He had an innately muscular constitution, and had been in good shape already during his time in the hockey team. When he left secondary school, and began his sixth form education, he had left the hockey team in order to take up martial arts of some sort, and also joined a gym. He now looked like a bodybuilder without any body fat, and moved like a tiger: A very broad shouldered tiger. During their entire time at school, Aram had always been so absorbed by exercise, that he never noticed if bullying occurred somewhere around him. If Aram had begun to spend time with a decent guy like Simon, it was probably a step in the right direction. After eyeing his opponents, Peter ordered his crowd to leave. ’Everything alright now?’, Simon asked. ’Yes. Thank you for helping me.’ ’To be honest, it was just a coincidence, but I am glad that we could be of assistance. Aram here is beginning to develop a social conscience by hanging with me and Carl, aren’t you?’ Aram mumbled something, and looked down into the floor. ’I’m late to the student newspaper meeting. Later.’ Simon disappeared around a corner. Carl had to leave his bomber jacket in his locker, and was on his way to a math lesson, but Aram was scheduled for the same chemistry class as John. They were late. ’You both know that late arrival will affect your grades. It will perhaps not concern you very much, John, but in your case, Aram, I would be worried.’ It was Mr. Gustavson, the chemistry teacher, known for his sardonic personality, and secretly nicknamed ’Snape’ among the students. ’As I said before you arrived, you have to team up in pairs and study how a primitive form of plastic is produced. It is a very simple example of how polymers behave.’ ’It seems like we have to lab together, today’, John said shyly. Aram didn’t speak very much while he assisted John, but, despite their late arrival, they were the first among the students to achieve a nice cylinder of plastic in a test tube in the end of the lesson. That gave Aram an idea. * * * It had been a few days earlier, during the Sunday church lunch at the Orthodox church of St. James’. ’Ameen. Moryo nqabel qurbonokh, wlan n’adar bashlawothokh.’ The last prayer in the extremely ancient Aramaic-speaking Christian liturgy ended, and the congregation left the room, kissing the Gospel Book at the entrance, and receiving pieces of non-consecrated bread. There were old ladies in mantillas, old men in their three-piece Sunday best, lots of parents with children, a dark-eyed and doe-eyed girl’s choir in choir dress, and a bunch of young men slightly younger or older than Aram. The last group was the most noisy one, and the lads were joking and playing with each other. Most of them wore jeans, expensive jerseys and shirts, but a few of the oldest ones wore suits, and some of the younger ones were dressed in tracksuit pants and hoodies. Most of them were dark haired and wore a lot of hair gel, but some were buzzcut, and two of them were redheaded. Many of them wore sturdy golden chains around their necks, from which crucifixes or the Syriac nationalist symbol of a feathered archer hang. Some of the attendees immediately left the parking lot, but most stayed inside for the Sunday church lunch. A buffet was prepared: Bulgur mixed with roasted noodles, tabbouleh – a salad of parsley, couscous, tomatoes, onions, garlic, mint leaves, lemon and olive oil – and several smaller bowls filled with falafel, dolma, chickpea sauce and eggplant sauce. Aram sat down with his mother, his uncle and his aunt. His mother was putting her folded mantilla in her purse, now when she no longer stood inside the consecrated room. ’Listen Aram’, uncle Benjamin began, ’there is a thing your mother and I have been talking about.’ Uh, uh. Now it comes again. Aram felt tired of this. His uncle meant well, but it felt like he was picking on him. ’Before your father died, I promised him, that I would help you become a doctor, just like your father and your grandfather. We have talked about this before: You have to achieve better grades, otherwise you will not be able to study medicine.’ A steel grey lady in her sixties approached the table. Mother and aunt Layla rose, gathered around her, and began to discuss with her in the old language. Aram wasn’t good at the old language. He was born in the new country, and spoke its language without any accent. ’Your mother and I are worried about you. The medical trade is a family tradition, but your grades have not been good the last years.’ ’But you are not a doctor. You own a grocery shop.’ ’This discussion is not about me, young man, but about you. If you begin medical studies, I promise to help you financially, but if you don’t, you can’t expect any money from me for university.’ * * * It was a day later. Aram and his girlfriend Emma entered the room for the history lesson. ’Hi, Emelie!’, Emma shouted, and claimed a chair close to her friend Emelie. Emma and Emelie didn’t at all have the same preferences when it came to style, but were friends anyhow. Emma was a blonde young woman with black high rise slim fit jeans and a yellow top which revealed some of her cleavage. Her shoes were yellow Converse. Emelie, on the other side, had dyed her hair black, and wore a black dress with a lot of lace. Around Emelie’s neck hang several pendants of different sorts: A cross, a star of David and a pentagram. She didn’t discriminate between religions, but it was also possible that she didn’t care very much for what the symbols signified to other people. Aram looked around, and when he found that the chair close to John was empty, he sat down beside John. ’Hello again. Do you mind if i sit here?’ They both unpacked their laptops, and had to end their chat, since their history teacher, Mr. Johanson, had begun to talk. Mr. Johanson was one of the oldest teachers at the school, and didn’t have many years left until retirement. He always wore black jeans, a sleeveless pullover and a tweed jacket. Unlike the younger male teachers, who dressed less strictly, he always had a tie knit around his neck. His hair was white and slightly receding. ’The world events of the 20th century, would probably had been very different, if World War One hadn’t occurred. The stern conditions of the peace treaty of 1919, caused many Germans and Austrians to feel disproportionally and unjustly punished, and that prepared the way for Hitler and the Second World War. For the British Empire, the end of the war initiated the slow devolvement of the empire: The Irish Free State was declared in 1922, and in 1931 dominions – such as Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Newfoundland, South Africa and the Irish Free State – were defined as ’completely self-governing’. Some sorts of constitutional reforms would probably have occurred in Russia anyhow, but not necessarily in the revolutionary Bolshevik way it now did: Don’t forget that the February Revolution in 1917 was about limiting the power of the Czar constitutionally, and preparing the way for free elections, general suffrage and civil liberties. The Bolsheviks didn’t grab the political power until October, and would probably not have reached the necessary level of initial popular support, if the Russian people hadn’t been exhausted by three years of warfare. The war also caused USA to change the way it behaved in international politics. During the 19th century the Monroe doctrine had isolated the US from international politics, but – with the exception of the Philippine-American War about a decade before World War One – the US had until then avoided entanglement in any conflict far beyond its own borders. From a certain point of view, the Philippine-American War and World War One, became templates for what later happened in Korea, Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan. The history of the 20th century is impossible to understand without World War One as the background. When we now begin to look closer…’ John felt good sitting so close to the big and warm lump of muscles. John hadn’t thought much about it before, but became now aware of the warm brown colour of Aram’s eyes, like brown gemstones reflecting a golden light. Aram emitted a nice scent of some sort of anti-perspirant, but probably not an expensive one. The presence of Aram made him feel comforted and protected. Aram had never or seldom preferred to sit beside John before, so this was something new. The lesson had ended. ’John, you are really smart. Would you possibly help me with homework? I want to get better test results, and who better than you?’ ’We could have begun this years ago, if you just had asked. Which day would be best for you? I often go by bus to Willow Lake in Thursdays. Wildlife photography, you know. And I suppose you exercise very often. Which day would be best for you?’ They agreed to keep Tuesdays open for study together. Emma approached them. ’You must hear this, Aram! Emelie has found such a cute shop with books and magic candles and stuff, and I could probably have my horoscope done. Isn’t it amazing? You must follow me and Emelie to that shop after school!’ * * * The following afternoon, Emelie, Emma and Aram got on the tram, and went to a picturesque part of the city Aram seldom visited. They left the tram at a stop just outside a Neo-gothic church building called Holy Trinity, and then followed a narrow and meandering, cobblestone paved alley on their way to the shop Emelie had mentioned. The houses were small and old here, but some of them seemed to have been restored recently, as an effect of ongoing gentrification. Withered roses and dark green ivy covered some of the exteriors. They passed by a tailor’s shop, a vegetarian restaurant, a dentist’s clinic and a former – now closed – bicycle workshop. A few of the buildings seemed to have been turned into homes very recently – which was easily recognised through the fresh plaster in yellow, lavender or dove blue colours, but other buildings were still shabby, some of them derelict. ’Here it is.’, Emelie announced. Aram got a first impression of the shop. He had definitely not seen it before. Grey stairs of stone led downwards to a door under street level. Two rather small shop-windows before his knees announced: Madame Cremorna. Books. Herbs. Readings. It felt a little bit spooky, but Emelie enthusiastically led them downstairs, and opened the door. A bell tinkled. The first thing that he noticed was the scent. The fragrance of many sorts of herbs and incenses mixed with each other. He felt awkward again. This wasn’t the sort of place a masculine guy like himself was expected to frequent. Wasn’t there something slightly feminine or gay about this scent? He considered to leave immediately, but that could make Emma mad at him. He didn’t want that. The second thing he noticed was the broad mix of things in the room. This was not just a book shop. The books were there, for sure – he saw a rotating stand with them: How To Earn Money By Positive Thinking. The Dolphins Speak: Telepathic Messages From Our Cousins In The Sea. The New Age Of The Flying Saucers. It could have been an ordinary New Age shop, but he could also see tin boxes with herbs, packets of soap or dry foodstuff with Spanish labels, shelves with incense sticks and small jars with the sort of incense grains he was able to recognise from church. His association to church was increased, when he found shelves carrying a large number of glass encased novena candles with stickers depicting saints. Some of them he could recognise, but, with his family background, he was more familiar with Eastern saints than Western, and the identity of some Western saints on the candles were undecipherable. The cash register stood upon a glass desk. Inside the desk he could see decks of cards in many shapes. He hadn’t seen any cards like these before. ’How do you play poker with these?’, he asked Emelie. ’They are not for poker, stupid.’, she answered, ’They are divination decks, for reading the future’. ’I am not sure I believe in that.’, Aram replied. Just now he wasn’t sure exactly what he believed. There was an eerie feeling in the shop. He wanted to get out. ’You are free to believe in anything you want. We are all responsible for how we use our freedom, and it is unwise to go against your own conscience.’ The alto voice vibrated with a rich timbre. It belonged to a woman in her early sixties. She had probably looked good during her younger days, and she obviously still cared about her appearance. Her hair was black, without any traces of silver in it yet, and she was dressed in a rust-coloured dress and a dark grey vest of wool. Around her neck hang a tin pendant depicting a very complicated geometrical pattern. In her younger days, she could have been a hippie. ’I’m sorry lady, but I can’t believe in telepathic dolphins and flying saucers.’ Aram waved in the direction of the rotating book stand. ’To be honest, I am not at all impressed by these books myself, but some of my customers ask for them, so I sell them. It pays the rent.’ There was a slight, possibly American-English, accent when she spoke, but very faint. ’So you don’t believe in the supernatural, yourself?’ ’Oh. I do! But that depends on what you call supernatural. If you mean telepathic dolphins, saucers, physical trolls or god-kings inside a hollow Earth, I do not believe in the supernatural.’ Emelie was studying the card decks inside the glass desk, but Emma stood by Aram’s side, hugging his arm. ’You are into sports, I suppose?’, the shop keeper asked him. ’Aram was a hockey player for many years.’, Emma answered proudly. ’And now I work out and practice martial arts.’, Aram continued. ’Then the psychology of sport can’t be unknown for you.’, Madame Cremorna said, ’And you surely must have experienced, how your own mind affects your physical achievements?’ ’Well. Yes. But that’s not supernatural.’ ’It is anyhow a part of scientific reality which borders to the supernatural – that is, supernatural in the sense I use the word.’ Aram was on his way to answer, but the shop keeper continued: ’And you belong perhaps to the Assyrian Church?’ Aram smiled: ’Close enough, but you were wrong there: I belong to the Syriac Orthodox Church. The Assyrians are our cousins.’ ’And you believe in God? And in angels? And in saints?’ ’Well. Yes, I do.’ ’The supernatural I believe in is about God, about angels, about saints, but also about sports psychology. It is admittedly not a complete description of what I do – far from it – but it seems like we are able to agree about a major part of it, anyhow.’ She was silent a few seconds. ’And what are you looking for? Books? Devotionals? Cards? A horoscope? Or do you want me to use magic for some purpose?’ ’We are just looking. Emelie told us about your shop, and it is just adorable’, Emma answered, ’but it looks much more Catholic than the other New Age shop on the other side the canal.’ Madame Cremorna smiled. ’It’s perhaps because it is not a New Age shop. Not in the general sense. It is inspired by botanicas of the sort common in Florida, where I grew up. We had a lot of Cubans and Puertoricans there.’ ’Have you lived in this part of the world for a long time?’ ’Quite a long time. Yes. My former boyfriend thought it was a good idea to move to Northern Europe a few years before the end of the Vietnam War.’ Emma continued to chat with the shop keeper for several minutes. Emelie still looked at the decks. Aram began to wander around in the shop. A square diagram with twenty-three arcane symbols hang on a wall. Bookshelves contained titles such as Three Books on Occult Philosophy, The Enchiridion, Selected prayers by Allan Kardec, and The Long-Lost Friend. A burgundy-coloured curtain covered door opening to an inner room. Curiously, Aram peeked inside. Several small tables were pushed up against the walls, covered with cloths in different colours. Candles were lit, scented in several different ways. The air was sweet and heavy. ’Uh oh. The inner sanctum is only open for some customers.’, Madame Cremorna said, where she stood behind his back. Aram blushed. ’I didn’t mean to do something wrong. Sorry, lady.’ When they left the shop, Emelie brought a recently bought tarot deck, and Emma carried a folder with her personal horoscope. * * * It was two days later. The bell tinkled in the usual way, when the door to the shop opened and closed. ’And what do you want, young man?’, she asked. ’I haven’t done well in my exams. I want to be sure my grades are good when I finish Sixth Form.’, Aram said. ’And when is that? If I hadn’t first met you with that young gothic girl and her friend, I would have guessed that you were older than a Sixth Form student.’ She eyed him knowingly. ’The last semester ends in June next year.’ Her face expressed mixed emotions: Pity, astonishment and a slight amount of aunt-like cunningness. ’Magic works normally through natural means, and natural means works slowly. A lesser working could have been enough, if you had asked me a year ago, and backed the magic up with real effort in class. But now, with just eight months…’ She didn’t end her sentence. There was a sad expression in Aram’s eyes, reminiscent of a very large, but very young and sad, puppy. The element of pity in Madame Cremorna’s eyes became more prominent. ’Let us discuss natural means first. You would probably learn more, if you do homework together with someone in your class, who’s got a talent for study.’ ’I already do.’ Aram told Madame Cremorna all about John. ’You have got a good new friend in him. Be nice to him.’, Madame Cremorna said. ’Homework with John helps, but not enough, and not fast enough. And I wish I could make mother and my uncle proud. But if you can’t help me…’ ’If something of what I do works, it is not because I have helped you, but because God has answered the prayers of several beings. Some call it magic, but ultimately all things and events comes from The Supreme Being anyhow. The ways and the means and the chains of events may vary, however. Or so is the way I see it.’ ’But you said, that I should have asked a year ago?’ ’I said, that a lesser working could have been enough then. With only eight months until graduation, I have to do a greater working, but only if you are ready to pay the price.’ ’I don’t own very much, but…’ ’I don’t talk about money. I talk about the willingness to choose talent for study before anything else. Wait. Don’t say anything yet. I will give you a reading.’ ’A reading?’ ’Just relax.’ She opened a purple bag of velvet, laid a pack of cards on the table, and mumbled a prayer. Aram couldn’t hear the words. She let him shuffle the cards, and then put three cards on the table cloth. The first card depicted a knight in armour, sitting on a horse. The second card depicted an old man with a beard, clothed in some sort of mediaeval brown gown, holding a staff with a snake – similar to the symbol sometimes used by hospitals and chemists – and holding a lantern in the other hand. By his feet lay a scythe and a hourglass. Far away, the presence of an owl could be distantly hinted at. The third card depicted a young man in renaissance clothes, carrying a round plate, smaller than a shield, but larger than a coin. From his bag a scroll and a quill pen peeked out. ’Hmm…’ Madame Cremorna didn’t say much for a while. Suddenly, she gathered all the cards into the deck again, and began shuffling. She laid the deck on the cloth, and pushed it over the table. ’Here. Shuffle, and think intensely about your friend John.’ Aram did what he was told to do, and gave her the deck again. ’That was all for today. Come back tomorrow afternoon, and I will tell you if I have found a way to help you.’ Aram felt a little bit disappointed. It had been stupid of him to come here, to begin with. He shrugged and left. When he had left, Madame Cremorna again lay three cards on the table. She was rather surprised to find the knight and the squire from the last reading come up again, but this time with reversed places: The squire with the plate to the left, and the knight with a sword to the right. The card in the middle was not the same. Where the card with the old bearded man had laid a few minutes ago, now lay a card depicting a half naked and extremely muscular man clothed in the skin rug of a lion. He had left his heavy club on the ground, and was breaking a stone pillar in two halves. Madame Cremorna remained almost expressionless, but one of her eyebrows twitched. She had got an idea. When Aram returned the next afternoon, he expected bad news. The shop keeper seemed, however, to be in a good mood, although perhaps mixed with an amount of harshness. She put two class encased candles on the desk. ’You are young. I will not let you pay the full price I charge an adult with full time salary. But you must be aware of the consequences of your request. Are you willing to let your friend become less talented, while you increase your own study results?’ ’Isn’t that black magic?’ Aram felt a chill on his back. He would probably not have asked for this, to begin with. ’I never accept black workings. I accept grey ones, however. Most human wishes rests in the grey area. The born-again nonconformist who prays to God for promotion at work, the churchman praying for a happy marriage, the white light Neo-pagan sending away a spell for fair weather at the picnic – all their wishes are tainted by a certain amount of selfishness. And so is yours. All of them are mixed with good intentions. And so is yours.’ ’But I can’t rob John of his intelligence. It is not fair.’ ’That depends. A greater working will affect reality on a deeper plane. In a sense, you will have switched – or better, mixed – destinies with each other. I have tried to conjure good destines over both of you, but you will still have to pay the price of tampering with destinies.’ ’Not my soul?’, Aram asked bleakly. ’Then I refuse.’ ’No, not your soul. I do not dabble in diabolism. Actually, I have fought against the minions of darkness on several occasions. But a greater working, affecting the threads of destiny, will take its toll from the one who ordered it, quite soon after the commencement. We are all responsible for our actions. Do you really want a talent for study?’ The question hung in the air for a moment. It cannot have been for a longer time than a second or two, but for Aram it felt like time stood still, like if a gigantic pendulum in an ancient clockwork was swinging over his head. It was still time to thank her for her willingness to help, but refuse to go further. ’Yes. I really want it. Just be sure that John will be happy.’ ’No-one can be one hundred percent sure, but I have reason to believe that he will enjoy the turn of events that will unfold, as well.’ ’Ooo-key? Well, then I suppose there will be no problem? What are the candles for?’ She pointed at one of the candles. It had a card on it, depicting a man in a bishop’s mitre, writing on parchment with a quill. He was surrounded by bookshelves. ’This is St. Isidore of Seville. You will take this home, and burn it nine consecutive Wednesdays until it is all burned away. St. Isidore wrote one of the first encyclopaedias in the world, and was recently designated the patron saint of internet.’ She pointed at the other candle. The card on it depicted a broad shouldered and bearded giant carrying the infant Jesus on his shoulder. ’This is St. Christopher. In the legend he was a giant who converted to Christianity. In reality, we don’t know very much about him, but the moral of the legend is edifying anyhow.’ ’What am I supposed to do with that candle?’ ’Give it to your friend John. If he don’t want to burn it every day or night, let him burn it whenever he likes. Tuesdays would be good, however.’ * * * It was Tuesday again. According to their new habit, John was helping Aram to study. ’And what am I supposed to do with this?’, John asked, curiously holding the glass encased prayer candle. ’You know that I am an Agnostic, don’t you?’ ’Some people burn it because they like how it looks or because they like the scent. It is just one month left until Advent, isn’t it?’ Shall I tell him about it? Aram thought intensely, and felt divided. To tell him the truth. But if he became angry and refused to help anymore at study time together? John was helpful. It would be awful if something terrible happened to him. But Madame Cremorna had said that he would enjoy what was happening, whatever that was. ’But isn’t it a little bit girlish, don’t you think?’ ’Not among my relatives. It is quite common that lads wear saint pendants, for instance.’ ’Yes. Now when you mention it, I have seen some of your martial art friends wearing rosaries, and I can’t accuse them for being girlish.’ The tension disappeared when Aram began to laugh. ’No, you can’t. At least not if you don’t take into account the time they spend in the bathroom, but so do I.’ ’Well, just as a sign of my gratitude for your gesture…’ John lit the candle, and then changed the subject. ’I have been thinking’, John said, ’about exercise.’ Aram was relieved that the subject had changed: ’What about exercise? You may be good at integral calculus and derivate – I have problem understanding what the bloody words mean – but I know a lot about exercise. Ask whatever you wish.’ ’To be honest: I think it is rather – ehrm.’ John’s cheeks and ears became more red than usual. ’I mean, I think it is cool to have muscles, even if it is hard to admit.’ ’It is not something to be shy about, little buddy. Many men like to be beefy. I guess most men would like to be built, even if not everyone like to admit it. Could you imagine Snape lifting weights?’ It was not only Aram’s joke about the acerbic chemistry teacher, but also his facial expression, which helped John to explode with laughter. It also shattered John’s embarrassment. ’Could you teach me how to work out at the gym, if I help you with homework?’ ’Fair enough. I sometimes feel stupid with you. At the gym I will be the teacher.’ Aram proudly flexed his right biceps, and felt cocky when he saw how John’s eyes involuntarily became wider. ’You like what you see?’ John suddenly looked shy again. Aram felt protective. John was so short and thin. ’Want to feel that bicep? Don’t be afraid. I’m not teasing you. It is fun for me to show my results.’ Shyly, John laid his palm over Aram’s biceps, and pressed carefully. ’Harder!’, Aram encouraged. John pressed harder. Aram’s biceps was of the size and density of a croquet-ball, and it rested on a really big triceps. John felt awkward again. His dick was growing and hardening. He sat down on the bed, and hoped that Aram hadn’t noticed. ’Which gym would be good for me?’ ’Why don’t you follow me to the one I workout at?’ ’Aren’t there a lot of big guys there? And doesn’t Peter and his crew hang out there?’ ’Peter is lazy at the gym, and I haven’t seen any of his friends there. Anderson is preoccupied with football, and the others spend their time with driving lessons, booze and grass. They aren’t very healthy, if you ask me. And I will be with you there. If Peter mess with you, I will have a serious conversation with him. He better stay away. The big guys at the gym are alright. Some of them like to give advice. Carl would probably join us at some times.’ * * * John stood before the desk at the gym, and felt shy. A very fit, but not gigantic, trainer manned the desk, dressed in a snug red T-shirt with the gym’s logotype on its chest. ’I’m waiting for a friend.’, John explained apologetically. He peeked into a folder about prices, and found a one-year membership mandatory. In September next year, he would most probably study at university in another city, and the last two months of a one-year membership would be wasted. Aram came in through the door, and began discussing membership and prices with the trainer and John, and, as a result, John got a deal, which meant, that he only had to pay for ten months. They entered the locker room, changed clothes, and Aram began to introduce John to the machines and weightroom. ’For anyone experienced, free weights are more important than machines. For a beginner, machines may have a purpose, especially for avoiding injuries. Look, for instance, on this one…’ One and a half hour later, John laid on the floor in the locker room. He had Aram’s towel under his head, and rested his legs on a bench, in order to let blood return to his head. He dripped of sweat, and felt nauseous. Aram returned from the loo with a paper towel dipped in cold water, and laid it on John’s forehead. ’I am sorry little buddy. I didn’t know where your limits were. I didn’t mean to exhaust you that much the first time.’ ’It’s not your fault. How could you know?’ * * * John and Aram had developed a habit of visiting Carl’s family on Sunday afternoons and evenings. Carl often spent Fridays and Saturdays with a bunch of SHARPs from the other side of the city, but Sundays were an opportunity for them to meet outside the gym and watch films together in Carl’s room. They all sat on Carl’s bed, with their backs against the wall. They had watched ’Captain America’ and ’Elysium’, and were now halfway into the Dwayne Johnson version of ’Hercules’. ’Look at all that muscle!’, Carl exclaimed impressed, for the third time during the evening. Aram poked him with his elbow: ’Do you know how gay you sound, Carl?’ ’Who you calling gay?’, Carl answered, and threw himself over Aram, playfully and boisterously tickling him. John bounced up in the air before landing back on the bedspread, but Aram and Carl fell to the floor, laughing and wrestling. It ended with Aram sitting on Carl’s back, holding his arm at an uncomfortable angle. * * * ’Grandmother arrives tomorrow. Will you eat dinner with the entire family?’, John’s mother – who worked with care of aged people – asked him the day before Halloween. ’I will stay home on All Saints, but Emelie has invited me to a Halloween party tomorrow night.’, John answered. ’I’m glad that you leave home more often, nowadays. But you know what grandmother will say.’ ’That borrowings of ghosts and pumpkins from the Americans will commercialise and destroy any decorous celebration of All Saints.’ John and his mother looked silently at each other with giddy looks, and both said in unison: ’What would grandfather say, if he had been alive?’ They laughed. John’s grandmother was not a particularly religious person, and, just as most of their relatives, she unreflectedly mixed Agnosticism with Lutheran Christianity, but she was fond of family traditions, and decorated her home zealously at Advent, Christmas, Easter, May Day and Midsummer, just as she had done as a young Mum in the 1960’s, and she enthusiastically invited friends and relatives to annual crayfish-parties and fermented-herring-dinners when summer turned into autumn. The recent introduction of masquerades at Halloween hadn’t found any approval from the old lady, since she thought that such merriment would distract from the solemn commemoration of the departed. She had decorated her own parents’ tomb today, before travelling to her only daughter and her family. Unlike most persons of her grandchildrens’ generation, his grandmother celebrated her nameday, and since her name was Inga-Birgitta, she celebrated both the seventh and the twenty-fifth of October. While Aram, Carl and John lived in council flats in grey five-storied concrete buildings built in the 1970’s (and Peter lived in a council flat from the late 1950s), Simon, Emma and Emelie lived in a residential garden suburb nearby, where hedges and fences kept one-family houses of mixed age (some of them as old as the 1920’s) apart. A very busy road marked the border between the two areas, but narrow asphalt-coated paths, for bicycles and pedestrians, ran in graffiti-painted tunnels under the road at two different points, connecting these two areas. John met Aram and Carl close to the nearby tunnel. John was dressed in a black suit he had bought half a year ago, when he attended the Confirmation of a cousin. John had put white theatre grease-paint in his face, and fastened vampire teeth on his eye-teeth. ’Greetings, children of the night!’ Aram and Carl smiled. Carl was dressed in camo trousers, but wore the same boots as usual. He was dressed in a black NATO jersey and some sort of combat harness. ’What is that supposed to mean, besides a soldier in general?’ ’Don’t you see? I’m G.I. Joe!’ ’I didn’t watch that film.’ ’You didn’t? It’s awesome! Let’s watch it on Sunday!’ Aram was green painted in his face, and dressed in a thick woolen overcoat. ’And you? That isn’t obvious… unless…’ Aram opened his coat. He didn’t wear any shirt, despite the cold autumnal weather. His entire torso was painted in bright green, and his trousers were purple. ’That’s hilarious! The Hulk! And it is convincing, too.’ ’You are much better than me with words, but I thank you for the compliments.’ ’Than I am’, John absentmindedly corrected Aram. The night was cold and filled with mist, but they found Emelie’s house without any problems. The house was full of very young adults, and it turned out that Emelie’s parents attended a dinner somewhere else that evening. The night went on rather well. The punchbowl probably contained something persons of their age weren’t officially supposed to drink for another two years, but, since the girls in Emelie’s circle of friends were well-behaved, and since most of the boys didn’t want to spoil the hard earned results of their physical exercise, utterly few of them drank too much. Emelie wasn’t known for having patience with fools, and had planned her guest list carefully, weeding out known drunkards. Parties with her classmates and parallel classes were otherwise known to be rather wet. Emelie had succeeded in her attempt to look like Morticia Adams. Emma was clothed in a furry pink rabbit suit, and only her face was visible. Several of the girls were dressed for an ordinary party, and qualified for a masquerade just by wearing pointy witches’ hats. John wasn’t the only vampire among the young men. A few of the guest looked like characters from animes or computer games. Emma seemed disappointed of Emelie’s choice of music: ’Emelie! Now we have listened to Fields of the Nephilim for half an hour. Don’t you have any tunes by Justin Bieber or One Direction?’ ’Are you kidding? Personally, I think it would spoil the Halloween mood, but if you wish to log into your own Spotify account, you are welcome to do so. You know where the computer is, but don’t expect me to tolerate your unbearable music for very long.’ On his way home, John felt awkward and slightly flattered. One of the lightbulbs had broken, and Emelie suffered from dizziness. She had asked John for help. When he stood at a chair, changing the lightbulb, his shirt had left the inside of his trousers and revealed his belly. Emelie had began to giggle nervously, and called after Emma. John didn’t understand why, and felt insulted. ’Please, John. Show us your abs again.’ ’My abs? What are you talking about? You know that I don’t…’ Giggling, Emelie had pinched the shirt fabric and revealed his abs again. His abs? He didn’t… He DID? ’Cool’, Emma said. ’Exercise suits you.’ * * * An Advent wreath stood on the kitchen table, burning with two lit candles and two unlit ones. It was dark outside the window, and, since the first snow had melted away, there was nothing to lighten the winter night up. John stood at a kitchen desk, taking notes of how much various foodstuffs weighed. That would simplify the composition of gym friendly recipes in the future. His mother entered the kitchen, and began to heat a small amount of mulled wine on the electric stove. ’I received phone calls from your chemistry teacher and your biology teacher today. Your physics teacher called yesterday.’ ’Yes?’ ’They are worried about you. Since you started two and a half year ago, they have regarded you as very talented in natural science, but recently your results have deteriorated. They wanted me to talk to you about it.’ ’Nothing is wrong. I just performed unusually bad in a couple of tests the last weeks.’ The mulled wine had reached a desired temperature. She poured some of the content in a mug. ’Do you want some? It is the soft drink version, so you don’t have to worry. It’s cold outside, so I needed something to drive away the chill in my bones.’ ’No, thanks. I avoid sugar as well.’ ’John, I don’t disapprove that you exercise. It seems to be healthy for you, and I am happy that you have a lot more friends now than you had before. But don’t you think you take it a little too far? Why don’t you play floorball or badminton, or jog or swim, or any other more normal sport? It can’t be good for you, to be so obsessed with what you eat. Are you going to eat like that way during Christmas as well? What will grandmother say?’ ’What would grandfather say, if he had been alive?’ ’This is not something to joke about. I’m afraid that your exercise will affect your school results. And I have read about body dysmorphia and eating disorders in the newspapers. Don’t you understand that I am worried about you? What will happen to your plans to become a physician, a biochemist or a physicist, if you let exercise distract you from studies?’ ’YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING!’, John shouted, left the kitchen, took his training bag and closed the door with a bang. His teenage anger went rampant through his mind and body: Thoughts going in a loop, his emotions boiling, his blood pressure pounding, his body temperature steaming. He loosened the wooly scarf and opened the closed zipper of his large jacket. The staff had left the gym, and the doors were closed, but members were given a key tag that unlocked the door at night. The scent of steel corroding under the influence of sweat. The scent of rubber mats. Furiously, he worked out in the almost empty gym: Only two or three other members exercised this late. It felt much better afterwards. The machines, the barbells, the dumbbells: They had helped him to release his irritation, and he now felt calm, content and harmonious. Freshly showered. Meanwhile he had been indoors at the gym, the temperature had dropped, and it had began to snow. The chill had some bite. On his way home, he unexpectedly met Carl, who was on his way home from something else: It had something to do with music. They talked. About parents and other things. Carl. Reliable Carl: Hard as nails, incredibly funny, and a kind friend to his friends. ’Ah. Come here, mate. It will be better tomorrow.’ They exchanged a hug. A brotherly hug. A rather long brotherly hug. Carl’s polo shirt was warm of his body heat. Carl’s glistening, black synthetic bomber jacket was cold of the winter temperatures. The scents from their different anti-perspirants mixed in the cool night air. A brotherly hug. Carl patted John at the back. ’It will probably be better tomorrow.’ * * * Emma sat in her sofa. Aram sat in the same armchair he had sat so many times before. A lit Advent star hung in the window, and spread a soft glow in the living room. From windows on the other side the street other electric Advent stars shone back. Emma was finishing her explanation: ’It isn’t you, it is me. I am not able to appreciate what you speak about. I miss the old Aram from when we first met: My teddy bear. My kind puppy with hockey butt. I am not interested in nuclear science, new medicines or what’s going on in parts of the world I don’t even know where they are. We have nothing in common anymore, if we ever had. I’m sorry. I like you as a friend, but …’ Her lip began to tremble. Aram hug her sadly, carefully and more softly than usual. ’I’m sorry, but I suppose that I understand…’ * * * Madame Cremorna had closed her shop at 7 p.m. as usual. Since the supermarkets kept open until 9 or 10 p.m. she had lots of time to buy the food and Christmas decorations necessary. She returned to her shop, in order to do some work. Supernatural work. She lived in an old-fashioned flat upstairs, which she had bought several years ago, before the prices had begun to rise ridiculously. Her phone rang. ’Madame Cremorna. … O hello Stephen! How is life in New York? I don’t even know what time it is in your time zone. … It is? … Aha. … A disturbance? … Oh, yes, I am up to a major working, but it is far from world-shattering, you know. Professional secrecy, so I can’t say anything, but I can assure you that it is just about the private life of two persons and their surroundings. It is not like I am about to open a gate for Dormammu or Nergal, if you know my drift. … Not funny? I see. … You are? London? Why? … But what brings you and John to this corner of the world? … No? You are kidding? … Yes, of course. Do you have any dietary restrictions before that working? … No. … No, it is no problem at all: I have a lot of vegetarian Christmas dishes. … Pardon? … No, it doesn’t surprise me that John isn’t picky. If he would like it, I could probably find a christmas pudding and a turkey for him God knows where, but you have to know that the locals prefer ham, meatballs, cabbage and vanilla rice pudding at this time of the year. And herring. Lots of herring. Remind me to put an ash tray in my living room while you stay. … Oh yes. … No, no problem at all. Take care, and give me a call when you think you will stop by.’ She hang up and washed her hands, first in running water and a non-perfumed soap, then in Florida Water. She sprinkled herself with holy water, went before her private shrine and lit both the altar candles and the incense. The air in the room felt thicker now, and the room felt connected to the rest of the world and to the unseen aspects of reality. Her highly trained senses could feel the presence of God, of spirits of many sorts, and of unseen subtle influences stretching themselves out from the room as a cobweb of spiritual light. ’Almighty and everlasting God, who harkened to the prayers of Moses in the wilderness, when he, assisted of Aaron and Hur, prayed for victory against the Amalekites, hear me…’ After a long prayer she stretched her hands out over fragments of candle wax she had removed from a candle, in order to fill it with scented oil. ’O God of my fathers, and Lord of Mercy, who hast made all things with thy word, and ordained man through thy wisdom, that he should have dominion over the creatures which thou hast made, and order the world according to equity and righteousness, and execute judgment with an upright heart: Give me wisdom, that sitteth by thy throne; and reject me not from among thy children…’ Then she did the same to fragments from another candle: ’It is God, that girdeth me with strength of war: and maketh my way perfect. He maketh my feet like harts’ feet: and setteth me up on high. He teacheth mine hands to fight: and mine arms shall break even a bow of steel…’ She had repeated this for weeks now. Divine Spirit was answering. The wheels of the invisible and incomprehensible world machinery turned, and unseen chains of causes and effects slowly turned the former reality into something slightly, slightly different. * * * Chapter two is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7140-with-a-little-help-from-magic-chapter-two/

At 32, Eric Rhodes was the youngest Managing Director at his financial services firm. In eight years, he managed to grow his portfolio to over $100,000,000, an unheard of accomplishment. He was able to accomplish that due to his razor sharp knowledge of intricate trading markets and his relentless drive to exceed client expectations. He was also one of the best salesmen at the firm. He was able to easily impress new clients both with his knowledge, as well as his looks and his charm. Eric traded on all his assets, and he wasn't the least bit self-conscious about it. His smarts, his charm, his looks: it was all part of the total package. And when he needed to close a deal, he could use each and all of those assets to have even the most hard-boiled clients eating out of his hand. At 6 2, and a solid 195, Eric still carried his college athlete's build. Indeed, he was known as the Christian Bale of the firm: for his impeccable taste in clothing, his relentless drive, as well as his six-pack abs. He knew exactly how to dress too: super tight shirts and suit pants were his most common currency in getting what he wanted. Eric had very ambitious plans for the coming year. He was close to signing several new clients, which would significantly increase his portfolio. He had approval to hire a new analyst to help with the increased workload, and Eric was focused on finding the right candidate. He had burned through so many assistants over the years: most people had a hard keeping up with his pace. He instructed his Human Resources director to send him only college athletes. Eric knew he wasn't allowed to be so specific in his hiring request, but he wore an extra-tight shirt to the meeting with his HR recruiter. A simple bend of his elbow would ball up his huge bicep, and the recruiter would be putty in his hands. Eric's firm was hosting an open house for several top-tier universities. They would have a day of interviews followed by a reception. Eric was too busy to participate in the interviews, but the recruiter encouraged him to go to the reception, and assured him there would be several candidates who fit his basic requirements. Eric got in a quick workout before the reception. He had been doing a lot of squats lately, and his knew his ass looked incredible. He dressed in his finest suit, but the pants were getting very tight around his glutes. He pulled them on anyway, not caring how obscene they might have looked. He paired it with a dark blue French-cuff shirt. The shirts too, were getting tighter across his chest and shoulders. Still, Eric didn't care: he loved the attention it got him. Eric walked into the reception and quickly scanned the room: eager young ladies, some math nerds, and a couple of vaguely athletic guys. He wasn't impressed, but decided to mingle a bit anyway. Eric found himself a baseball player to talk to. Henry Tatum was about 5 10, 170, had short jet black hair and bright brown eyes, and the classic baseball player's build. Not too big, but no doubt athletic, and he seemed to have good knowledge of the markets. In the middle of the conversation, something made Eric look up. Standing in the doorway was a tall, well built guy. Eric couldn't see much else since the guy had people crowded around him. But he literally was head and shoulders above everyone else. Eric watched how he easily worked the room, then lost sight of him. A few minutes later, while still talking to Henry, he felt something behind him: a presence, followed by a shadow. He slowly turned around to see a guy, about 6 5, sandy blond hair and blue eyes, just peering out at the crowd. Eric was impressed by his presence. He turned and introduced himself. The giant man introduced himself as James Prowse. He was 22, a recent Columbia grad. He wowed Eric with his athletic record: he started out as a wrestler, but then moved to rugby. When Eric asked why, James just answered: "Got too big." Eric was intrigued, and asked what were his current stats. James responded, 6 6, 275. Eric engaged in a spirited conversation with both James and Henry about the markets, and was quite impressed with both of them. But if he had to pick one, it would be James. His mere size would overwhelm any client into saying yes. As the evening wore on, the room got warmer. James was the first to take off his suit jacket, revealing a broad, massive chest, as well as gargantuan shoulders. Henry quickly followed suit, revealing a fit, compact build, and surprisingly sizable biceps. Eric found his eyes constantly drawn to James' balled up biceps, and he was enraptured with everything James had to say. Eventually, James took off his tie and rolled up his sleeves to reveal huge forearms, and Henry followed. Eric, ever the well-dressed man, still had his suit jacket on, and was a bit dismayed at how unkempt the two young men looked, even though they were both clearly beautiful and well-built. "Guys, if you come to work for me, the dress code is very rigid," Eric said. James just grinned a dazzling smile. "Lighten up, Eric," he said. He glanced at Henry, who proceeded to take of Eric's suit jacket, with surprisingly little resistance from the Managing Director. Eric didn't mind, and in fact the evening reminded him of his college days. He was also pleased to have an opportunity to dazzle the room in the skin-tight shirt. The buttons across Eric's chest were strained at capacity, and left a huge gap where his skin was revealed. Most people would consider that poorly fitted clothing, but Eric enjoyed the alpha element of bursting with muscle. James seemed to focus on the shirt, and while Eric was deep in conversation (trying to avoid James' biceps), he just reached over and with a flick of his finger, the shirt opened up. Eric looked up, stunned. No one had ever dared to be that forward with him before. Filling with rage, but also impressed with the young man, he just said to James: "Why did you even come and talk to me tonight?" James just smiled again and said, "I saw the tallest guy in the room, and I stood next to him. That ALWAYS makes me feel even more powerful." While most people would consider that behavior unprofessional, Eric was completely intrigued. He looked right at James and said "You're hired." James didn't even respond at first. He just looked at Eric and said "Hire Henry too." Eric didn't like being told what to do, especially from a 22 year-old analyst. And he knew he only had approval to make one new hire. While he tried to stammer out a protest, James just nonchalantly crossed his arms. Then James looked directly at Eric, and his eyes narrowed. In a deep and authoritative voice, he said: "I just met you an hour ago. And in that hour, I was able to size you up, and to create a need in you that didn't even know you had. A need you now DESPERATELY must fill. Doesn't that make me a good salesman?" And with that, he bunched up his massive biceps. In a daze, Eric turned to Henry. The amiable, handsome baseball player now had a dark and intense look on his face. "Do the calculus, Eric," was all he said. He bunched up his biceps too. "Mine aren't as big as James, I know that. But the three of us together will be unstoppable, and you know it." He seemed much taller than his 5 10. Eric thought about it for a few seconds. Was he being worked over by two college guys? He didn't seem very pissed at the idea. Plus, they were smart, and clearly had killer instincts. To close the deal, Henry discreetly slid his hand inside Eric's shirt and rubbed his hard stomach. "You are so hungry for this, Eric." Eric felt the strong calloused hand of the athlete on his abs, and by instinct just flexed them up. "I'll take that as a yes" said Henry when he felt Eric's abs crunch. "Does a $500,000,000 portfolio make you hard, Eric?" said the baseball player, who seemed to enjoy toying with the powerful Managing Director. Eric looked up at James, who simply nodded. With that, Eric slid his hand inside Henry's shirt and felt the ripped abs of the college athlete. Eric was also drawn to his overwhelming confidence like a moth to a flame. Eric seemed enraptured by the hands on his stomach. Looking at the giant rugby player, and the surprisingly strong and assertive smaller baseball player, Eric was indeed getting hard. "Why stop at $500,000,000? You are both hired." "Good boy," said James. "You won't regret this. Now, let's get to work." And with that, the three men left the room and headed to Eric's office.

This was a short and sweet one I did, toying with the idea of a series. Not sure if I posted on here before. Enjoy TC Miss Darcy's Stable By TattcubCopyright © 2014 Tattcub. All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.Hi all, Haven't posted for a while. This is a short and sweet one that hopefully will spawn more stories as I go on. Enjoy. P.S. I know there may be a few little spelling/grammar errors, please don't let that spoil your fun. TC My name, dear heart, is Miss Darcy. I am an artist. I am a sculptress of destiny. I am passion, I am desire, I am a karmic razor. I am a complete bitch when I am feeling exceptionally fabulous. I am also a witch, a rather good witch in fact. I believe in crime and punishment, and the principle of what goes around, comes around.' But, make no mistake, I am not a wicked person or a fury. The people I punish deserve it. In fact, anyone I deal with is generally the architect of their own, well - I don't think destruction is the right word here...let's say retribution, that's closer. I don't punish the innocent. I reward them, whether they think they deserve it or not. I have sisters all over the world. Some keep a low profile, and some don't. One even set up a nightclub and is doing excellent work there, by all accounts. I am more of a free spirit than she. I drift from town to town, place to place. I go where I sense I am needed. And today, I was needed in New York. I was sitting at a small cafe, sipping a divine iced tea and watching the world go by. My attention was drawn to a luxurious car that the driver had just reversed into a parking space while talking on his mobile phone (dreadful things, those phones). You know his type, my dear: sharp suit, $300 haircut and a bad attitude. He didn't look properly and ended up hitting the delivery truck parked in the next bay. He stormed out of the car, marched straight to the truck and starting abusing the young driver who had literally only just started the engine. The delivery boy - named Dwight, bless him - just stood there and flinched every now and again while he let the city boy unload his vitriolic rant. Darlings, you have no idea how much poor manners anger this Georgia girl. Now where was I? Oh yes, poor little Dwight. Ill-fitting uniform and an equally ill-fitting body. He had a lot going for him: he was kind, friendly and generous to the core. A decent man. A boy blessed with heart of an angel and the body of a permanent teenager. Dwight was mid-twenties but definitely passed for 18 or 19. He still had the pale, sweaty complexion of a teenager, blemishes and all. His long, thin hair and heavy-framed spectacles really did nothing to reveal the boy's delightful inner charm.He kept on pushing the heavy frames back up his long too pointed nose. He jad no chin to speak of and what he did have wasn't visible as he kept his head bowed in submission to the obvious superior man he was dealing with. His skinny arms hung out of his too baggy short sleeved uniform shirt. They dangled there like to bits of string tied in a knot where the elbows should be. His legs were not much better. Oversized shorts with too big boots and pipe cleaner legs. Dwight couldn't fight his way out of a wet toilet paper bag. He was the quintesential wimp, the geekm the eternal teenager. Spotty face and spectacles and all. He was the sort of man who was eaten alive by the Alphas. Alphas like the one that was currently bellowing at him. His opponent,the "Alpha" (Yes dear you can still hear the sarcasm in my voice) Wade Bradley, was red with fury and frothing at the mouth slightly. Through his fitted suit, it was clear that Wade had the nicely toned body of a man who could afford a personal trainer and had the dedication to back it up. He was good-looking, from his thick black hair to the clear blue eyes that surely brought the ladies to their knees. He matched these natural attributes with expensive shoes and a manicure, but the man forgive my swearing was a true asshole. Something had to be done, and this is where I came in. I decided I could play this in a few ways and decided that a cause-and-effect spell would be rather splendid here. I clutched the pendant round my neck and muttered a few arcane and mysterious phrases unheard of in this realm: "What you do, Wade, cannot be, you bring your own catastrophe. Dwight you now will be rewarded; Wade's downfall means you will be applauded." What did you expect dear? I am a witch of quality, not a poet. The original translation rhymes much better. One has to work with what she has. And regardless, magic is all about the intent. I settled back in my chair to watch the fun begin. \-------- Wade was certain he was in the right. He was a Bradley, dammit, so he was right by definition! A spoiled man who was used to getting his way. "Goddammit, you geek! What the hell do you think you were doing, asshole?" he screamed into the face of the retard in the brown shorts, with stick-thin legs poking through their openings like string with knots for knees. "S-sssorry s-sir," said the peon, whose name tag read Dwight. "Dwight, is it?" Wade said in a condescending tone, "when I am finished with you, you won't have a license to push a toy cart around. Sorry just isn't good enough," he continued, pointing his finger in the guys face. It satisfied him to see a red flush creeping up the guy's neck onto his sallow cheeks. Good, Wade thought, satisfied that he had embarrassed the guy enough into believing it was his fault that the two vehicles had crashed and not Wade's, even though Wade was the one who had been in the middle of a call to another girlfriend his wife had no idea about. "You get paid to drive that hunk of junk, you should kn-know better!" He shouted as he waved an arrogant finger in Dwight's face, his anger deafening him to his own mid-sentence stutter. "Sir, I think it was your f-fault. I hadn't even started the van," Dwight said clearly this time, surprised that he'd managed to get a word in edgewise and quite proud that his stutter had held back for the majority of the sentence. He was a PhD student and was really only doing this job part-time to help his parents who were paying his tuition. He didn't want them to struggle, so he did this job alongside the long hours of hitting the books and the test tubes. He caught a brief flash of light and his eye was drawn for a second to a café, where a sensibly dressed lady was sipping iced tea and watching him rather intently. She smiled at him and raised her glass politely. He felt dizzy for a moment, must be the heat and the embarrassment of this asshole having a go at him. "Sir," he said in a voice that was high and tremulous a few seconds ago, but now seemed rougher. It had a hint of decisiveness as well. "SIR!" Wade was momentarily confused by the delivery guy's rumbling voice...wasn't he just stuttering with the voice of a pencilneck? Not the bass boom he had just heard, which was a voice that demanded respect. "S-ss-sir," said Wade automatically. As he spoke it was almost as if an invisible needle had pricked him, deflating his huge ego just a little. He felt internally smaller, almost. Dwight was holding a package in his skinny arms. The oversized sleeves of his uniform, hanging almost to his elbows, did nothing to enhance his look in any way. He glanced down at the package again and noticed the hairs on the back of his hands. He didn't have hair on his hands, did he? He barely had it anywhere...it was like his body had taken a quick look at puberty and waved it away to the next person in the queue. He stared at his hand. It seemed to swell. The fingers grew firm and calloused. He even noticed an unusual bulge of muscle on the meaty ball of his hand and thumb that only comes from years of heavy lifting. His eyes travelled up to his forearms, which were swelling too, filling with hard corded muscle. Massively thick and covered with the same black hair he'd noticed on his hands. Thick veins crisscrossed the monstrous forearms, flexing and swelling underneath the swarthy paper-thin skin. Next, Dwight felt the heavy swell of his biceps in the sleeves of his rapidly tightening uniform, filling the bursting material with thick, heavy, veined beef. The drop of the triceps underneath, with their perfectly-striated horseshoe shapes, completed the arms which revealed themselves as the overstretched material finally gave way with an audible rip. Dwight was left holding the package with the arms of a god. The shredded sleeves receded further up as his shoulders started to flex out, raising the ruined shirt higher as it was pulled out of the uniform trousers. His delts grew and rounded out: perfect, round mounds of solid muscle that led to the traps. The traps started to grow, rapidly mounding up and swallowing Dwight's thickening neck, going from a 15.5 to 21 inches in a few seconds, almost up to his ears in a monstrous triangle of beast-man muscle. The neck was a much more fitting home for his voice's bassy thunder. I tell you dears, this old girl is looking around her handbag for her fan. Then, Dwight's chest just unfolded from underneath his humongous traps. His pecs dropped out of his skin like two slabs overfilled with concrete. They literally tore what remained of his work shirt apart. Striated and huge with beautiful dark nipples, thickening and pointing ever downwards due to the vast shelf of immovable muscle behind them. Dwight raised his hand and pointed at the somehow smaller lawyer. "You should have more respect mister, you never know who or what trouble you will run into, he boomed. "You ran into me, not the other way around." His deep rumbling voice made his balls churn. He felt so good right now. So hot. Dwight towered over the now much smaller Wade, who seemed to pull inwards a little more. Wade's hair was a little more dishevelled, and his suit seem looser somehow. Wade's mouth suddenly felt dry as the delivery guy turned the tables on him. "Maybe it WAS my fault", Wade thought. The van driver was huge. Big muscle bulging out everywhere. Wade felt a twinge in his groin, his cock reacting to the driver's sudden Alpha Male power that had gone unnoticed before. "Err..." Said the suddenly unsure Wade. "I'm s-sorry about the van" Wade was horrified. He hadn't meant to say anything to this monster. He might get hit or something. Something about the thought of being dominated by the uniformed hulk in front of him made his cock jump again. Blood seemed to be rushing to his dick and out of his brain. Again he had the feeling of getting shorter. "What's going on? " he said out loud and realised that his voice, like his body was now somehow smaller. He couldn't think straight and felt confused and suddenly frightened. He remembered he was the one who had started the argument with the delivery guy but couldn't remember why. The man was so powerful he couldn't do anything except look up at the towering figure of muscle now looming above him. He gulped as he looked at the guys huge traps and shoulders. The massive shelf of his pecks and the tightness of the waist. The guys back was beyond human and led to an ass that defied description except that it was the bubble but of all muscle bodies. The mans legs showed through his uniform, perfectly form pillars of huge, male power. Wade felt his now little dick get hard. "I'm sorry sir" He whispered halfway between awe and terror. Dwight shifted his huge bulk, all the muscle fighting for place with each other. His clothes stretched out a little more until he'd completed his transformation. Dwight realised what had been done to him as he marvelled at his beautiful vascular forearms and bunched and flexed his biceps in amazement. He also new who was responsible. He glanced over at the cafe for the strange lady. She sat there quite primly and once again raised her glass of tea to him. He tipped his hat and mouthed the words "Thank you ma'am" to her. She smiled at him. And then was gone. Dwight looked down at Wade and saw that the little man was staring at him in amazement. He even noticed the slight bulge in the guys trousers. "Do you like what you see, little man?" said the 290lb monster of muscle "Yyes S-ssir, I do." came the reply. "Are you sorry for your rudeness? " He said "Yes sir" "Want to apologise ?" "I am sorry sir." Said the tiny Wade, no longer the big man. Dwight flexed his biceps in front of him and assumed the famous crab position, His massive from jumped to attention through his uniform popping the top two buttons and ripping out the sleeves. His traps tried to crawl to the top of his head as his thick neck all but disappeared in the mountainous muscle. Wade gasped and reached out a hand to touch Dwight and Dwight let him. He suddenly felt a wet patch and realised he'd shot his load then and there. He felt ashamed and confused. Dwight smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "No hard feelings little guy" said the mammoth man. "I'll see you around" He turned and squeezed into his truck and was gone. Wade stood there in the street with cum staining his oversized pants. He had to find the guy again...

Five A week after his competition Chris could finally take the plane back home. Ever since his victory he'd felt drained and for the first time since high school he'd gone a week without working out. He got home and greeted his girlfriend by kissing her deeply on the mouth but his 7 incher showed no reaction whatsoever. Trisha didn't insist either and he just went to bed to sleep it off. The next morning Chris awoke feeling recharged and walked into the bathroom. He stepped onto the scale and blinked as it stopped just under 200 pounds: he'd somehow lost 36 pounds! He looked at his reflection and saw that he looked softer. "Better hit the weights to build back some mass", he said to himself. Jeremy entered his uncle's gym proudly: he'd gained 36 pounds of muscle from the curse and his body was more ripped than ever. The smile faded a bit from his face as he heard the low, rumbling noises echoing against the ceiling. He stepped into the weight area and stared at Ted doing bench presses with a fully loaded bar. The bar moved up and down with perfect control. Ted racked the weight and sat up, looking at the staring Jeremy. "Ah, you're back. Give me hand", he rumbled. "You need a spot?", Jeremy asked. "Like a little boy could spot this fully loaded bar", Ted said laughingly, "No, it's too light for me to really train. You stand behind me and push down the bar with all your might when I press it up". "That's dangerous, man", Jeremy objected. "DO IT, boy!", Ted boomed and laid back down on the bench. Jeremy sprinted over to the bench and pressed the bar down like the teen beast had told him. His eyes widened as Ted pushed the bar up without shaking. "Push, I told ya", Ted grunted in between reps. "I'm pushing", Jeremy protested in between fastening breaths. After 20 reps, Ted could feel Jeremy's force wear down and he grinned as he saw the guy's red face. He cranked out ten more reps and racked the weights. Jeremy let go of the bar as the teen beast's paws released the iron and groped the pecs straining his tank top. "What do ya think yar doing?", Ted barked loudly, "That was set 1. Three more to follow, boy! Grab that bar and push hard this time!" Jeremy quickly grabbed hold of the bar as the giant teen lifted it up. He gritted his teeth and pushed down with all his might. "Too weak, boy", Ted boomed and cranked out perfect rep after perfect rep; his pecs bulging with power as they fought against the resistance of the fully loaded bar and the 225 pound bodybuilder. Once again, he pumped out 30 reps, steadying the bar in his strong grip as Jeremy's arm began to shake from the effort. Jeremy didn't let go of the bar as the teen beast racked the weight. His own triceps were on fire from being pushed back. He looked down at the huge chest, noticing the tears appearing on the tight tank top and gulped. "Miring the goods, boy?", Ted asked and lifted the bar for his third set. A grin formed on his lips as he felt the clearly weakened power of the bodybuilder: he was so much stronger than this professional athlete. His own pecs were burning with a hardening pump as he kept cranking out reps. He passed 30 reps, 40 reps before racking the weight with a load banging noise at 50 reps. He inhaled deeply, his pumped pecs ripping his sweat-drenched tank top some more and looked up, staring directly in the 225 pound bodybuilder's eyes. Sweat dripped from Jeremy's dark red face, his own muscular chest heaving as he filled his lungs with oxygen. He looked back in the teen beast's dark eyes but quickly looked away as he felt intimidated. He gulped once more as he stared at the protruding chest ready to rip through the insanely tight tank top. Further down, a thick pipe was clearly outlined in the grey sweatpants. "Final set, boy", Ted boomed and pushed up the fully loaded bar. Despite his pecs being pumped and drained from his grueling workout, the weight fell easy to Ted: the double dose of his new steroids had made his balls grow bigger and they flooded his beastly body with testosterone. Jeremy's body rocked back and forth on the rhythm Ted imposed to the moving bar. Jeremy gaped at the teen's working pecs,; the muscle visible through the now almost transparent tank top. He could also see a dark patch forming at the tip of the thick pipe in the sweatpants. "MORE!", Ted roared as he pushed out more reps. His pecs were burning as he pumped more blood into the big muscles. His face turned into a dark red, angry mask, sweat flowing in streams over it as he reached 40 reps. "More", he gritted between his teeth and summoned more strength from his 280 pound body. Jeremy's body now shook violently as the teen beast's massive arms, his thick triceps pumped at the back of them, quaked from the effort. Ted cranked out 15 more reps, his tank top ripping more and more as his pumped pecs pushed the stretched fabric beyond its limits. His cock throbbed inside his sweatpants, tenting them visibly. He racked the bar with a loud roar and sat up swiftly. "That'll do, boy. Move", he rumbled as he got up from the bench and pushed the 225 pound bodybuilder aside. Jeremy was thrown aside by the teen beast's powerful shove, crashing into the smith machine. He steadied himself against the smith machine and looked at the huge 18 year old who began doing pushups and decided to hit the showers. Ted pumped out 10,000 pushups to end his chest workout and strutted over to the showers himself. He ripped off his skintight, sweat-drenched tank top, pulled off his sweatpants and entered the shower zone. Jeremy stared in awe as the teen beast emerged in front of him. Even though a layer of fat coated the guy's body, every muscle was outlined underneath. "I can barely flex my pecs", Ted grunted. Jeremy looked at the teen's chest and his mouth fell open. The thick muscles that protruded atop the muscle gut, were shiny red from all the blood pumped into them during the workout. "You like real muscle, boy?", Ted asked with a sneer. Jeremy nodded and moaned faintly as his hands made contact with the strong pecs. His 6 incher throbbed painfully hard and exploded against the teen beast's muscle gut as the thick pecs bounced under his grasp. Ted grabbed hold of the bodybuilder's shoulder and spun him around. His rock-hard 11 incher, throbbing hard after his workout, brushing against the muscular ass. "No", Jeremy mumbled as he felt the thick head between his legs. He tried escaping but the teen simply pushed him against the tilled wall. His mumble turned into a shriek as the thick snake was rammed into him. "YEAH", Ted boomed as he slammed his cock hard in and out of the clenching ass, his heavy balls smacking against the bodybuilder's hamstrings. Despite his 225 pounds of muscle, Jeremy felt like a helpless child as the huge teen ravaged his ass. "How ya like being fucked by a 280 pound god?", Ted bellowed deeply and violently raped the bodybuilder. Jeremy's body was being pushed against the tilled wall by sheer force the 280 pound teen beast produced. "YEAUGHN!", Ted roared as he came in angry spurts inside the bodybuilder's ass. 12 thick loads of sticky cum squirted from his 11 incher into the spasming athlete in his grasp, making his six-pack bloat. Jeremy's knees buckled and he collapsed down on the floor as the teen beast's thick rod left his ass. He noticed cum and blood pooling around him as it leaked from his devastated ass. "Bodybuilders sure aren't what they used to be", Ted sneered as he looked down on the worn out athlete. He turned around, showered quickly and strutted out of the shower zone, the muscle of his ass flexing and relaxing with every step he took. Jeremy stared at the teen beast's wide, muscular back. "I can't wait to steal his muscles too. Then we'll see who's boss", he said to himself as he got up weakly. His ass protested painfully as he stepped cautiously into the locker room. He waited until he heard Ted leave before getting dressed himself: he didn't want to be naked in the same room as the teen beast anymore. Ted got home with a big grin on his face. He noticed Chris and Trisha leaving their car and strutted over to them. "Hi, Ted", Trisha said and kissed him on the cheek to greet him. "Ya guys up for a swim?", Ted asked, "My housemate got a pool installed last week and I'm gonna dive in. Wanna join me?". "Is there any room to work on my tan aside the pool", Trisha asked in a lust-filled voice. "Off course", Ted replied, what ya think, Chrissy?" "I don't know…", Chris began. "Come on, hon", Trisha interrupted, "it'll be fun. And you look good in your speedos.". "Great, I'll see ya guys in a few minutes. Come round the back, pool's in the garden", Ted said and strutted away. Trisha rushed inside their house. Chris just walked into their room as she emerged from the bathroom, wearing her tiny black bikini. "Something wrong, hon?", Trisha asked as she noticed her boyfriend's look. "I don't like the idea of my girl parading around like that", Chris said. "Oh please, I wore exactly the same outfit when we first met. Remember I was a podium girl at your contests back then?", Trisha answered, "Besides you're way better looking than your cousin". Chris didn't have time to react as Trisha simply grabbed a towel, hung it around her shoulders and went downstairs. Chris got changed quickly, draped a towel around his less muscular waist and followed her. They arrived at the pool but Ted wasn't there yet. Trisha unwrapped her towel, placed it on a lying chair and installed herself in the sun aside the pool. Chris tossed his own towel down, kissed his girl on the mouth and dove in the pool. He swam a few lanes, trying to forget his lost pounds of muscle and the somehow flabbier look of his 199 pound body. He swam up to the edge of the pool, folded his arms on the tiles and positioned his head atop his forearms, staring at his girlfriend's nice body. "Ya guys are already here". Ted's deep voice made both of them look at the door and their eyes widened in surprise as Chris' younger cousin emerged from the house. Trisha bit her lip in pure lust as she scanned the uncovered body of the guy that had fucked her brains out daily during her boyfriend's absence for the first time. Ted stepped out of his house and revealed his body as he stepped into the sun. His 280 pound body simply oozed masculinity: his five o'clock beard highlighted the angular shape of his otherwise young looking face; the layer of fat that covered his clearly strong and hard looking muscles gave him a prison-like, intimidating physique from his bull neck over his wide shoulders, protruding chest down to his strong muscle gut; his thick legs filled the pipes of his swim shorts completely, wrapping the fabric tightly around the muscular quads and hams and showcasing his ass; a prominent bulge snaked down the right pipe against the thick quad. "Looking hot, Trish", Ted said as he looked at his cousin's girlfriend. He winked at her and noticed the wet patch forming on the tiny pants of her bikini. "Let's swim", he said and jumped in the pool. Chris looked up and the sun was blocked from his sight as his huge cousin dove over him into the pool. Chris' eyes scanned the thickly muscled body that stretched out inches above his face and felt like a killer whale sprang over him. Instinctively, he reached out and touched the giant beast jumping over him, his fingers brushing the hard surface of his cousin's muscular body. Ted emerged gracefully next to his cousin, pretending to ignore Chris touching his torso. Chris stepped back involuntarily, pressing his own still muscled back against the tilled wall of the pool, and looked up into his cousin's dark eyes: the 6 feet teen eclipsed him in height and width. "Ya up for some water polo, Chrissy?", Ted asked and positioned his hands next to his cousin's shoulders against the wall. Chris felt more intimidated then ever by his 5 year younger cousin, his eyes scanning the thick arms that screamed power. "Sure", he said and dove under to escape the muscle prison. Ted grinned as his cousin surfaced a few feet further. He swam to the far side of the pool, grabbed the bright yellow ball and tossed it to the middle of the pool. "Ready?", he yelled to his cousin at the other side of the pool. "Yep", Chris said, staring at the ball. "GO!", Ted boomed and launched himself toward the center of the pool. His thick, strong legs propelling his 280 pound body through the water. Chris also swam toward the ball, his 199 pound body encountering less resistance than his way bigger cousin's but his weaker muscles not producing as much strength and speed. He extended his hand to the ball but a big paw rose up underneath it and tossed it up in the air. Ted surfaced inches away from his cousin, extended his thick right arm and snatched the ball in midair, his paw encircling more than half of it. Chris propelled himself up and forward and attempted to grab the yellow ball. Ted put his left paw against his cousin's still muscular chest and shoved him back like he waved off a fly. Chris' 199 pound body was driven back a few feet by the force of the shove. Ted lifted the ball above his head, his right bicep balling up into its 28 inches in the process, and threw the ball hard into the goal at his cousin's end of the pool. "1-0", Ted said in his deep voice. Chris swam to his end zone and grabbed the ball. He saw his cousin looking at Trisha and decided to make his move. He propelled himself at full force to the other end of the pool. Ha passed his cousin at the center of the pool and swam toward the goal. Trisha pointed at the pool and Ted turned around to see his smaller cousin swim by and moving closer to the goal on his end of the pool. He dove and shot underneath the surface to his cousin, his strong legs pushing him forward like a dolphin. Chris was within shooting range of the goal and raised his right arm. Just as he was about to launch the ball, a huge paw grabbed hold of his forearm, encircling it completely and the thick fingers digging into his corded muscles; the jolt of pain made him drop the ball. He turned his head and saw his cousin emerging from the water. He kicked wildly at the teen beast's stomach, his foot hitting the hard surface of the muscle gut. But it was no use, his cousin's other paw grabbed his left hip and pulled him toward him. Chris fought back with full force but he was no match for his cousin's strong arms: within seconds his back was against the muscled surface of huge teen's torso. Ted wrapped his left arm around his cousin's torso just underneath his pecs and released his right forearm to grab the ball with his right paw. "You're not playing nice, Chrissy", Ted said in his cousin's ear. Chris squirmed in the teen beast's strong grip, his hands tugging at the thick forearm wrapped around him. Ted smirked and flexed his left arm a bit, hardening his hold while his right paw playfully tossed the ball up in the air. Chris grunted in pain as the steely 28 inch bicep dug into his side and the thick forearm pushed the air out of his lungs as it began crushing his weakened abs. He could also feel his cousin's cock hardening against the back of his leg as it swelled inside his swim shorts. Ted turned around, securing his cousin's 199 pound body tightly against his own, and launched the ball hard into his cousin's goal. "2-0. Ya better start to fight back, Chrissy", he said into his cousin's ear as he released him and swam off. Chris rubbed his painful torso, a red band appearing where his cousin had grabbed him. He saw Ted talking to Trisha and swam to the ball. He fetched it and turned around to discover an empty pool: his big cousin was nowhere to be seen. He turned his head around a few time but didn't see to teen beast. He began swimming with the ball and reached the center of the pool. Suddenly, he felt a strong current behind him and a big shadow fell over him. He turned around and a cry formed on his lips. Ted had been hiding on the bottom of the pool, his huge chest filled with oxygen, to wait for his cousin's next move. When the smaller guy began swimming toward his part of the pool, his trap was ready. As soon as his cousin reached the very center of the pool, he moved behind him, squatted down on the bottom of the pool and summoned every ounce of strength in his 280 pound body to propel himself up. His beastly quads bulged and flexed as he shot up and emerged from the water. An evil smirk formed on his lips as his body rose up from the water until just his calves were underneath the surface, towering over his 199 pound cousin. He extended his thick arms next to his body, forming a wide cross before crashing down onto his cousin. The cry died on Chris' lips as the teen beast fell down atop him, dragging him down under the water. He fought with everything he had left but his huge cousin trapped him against the pool floor. His own back was against the tilled floor while the teen beast lay atop him. He squirmed and budged but the 280 pound body trapping him didn't move. He clawed at his cousin; his fingers trying to dig into the hard flesh in vain while he could feel the oxygen escaping his lungs. He made a final, desperate effort and managed to slip free and swam up; he inhaled fiercely, filling his lungs with air. Ted had seen the look of panic in his cousin's eyes and had let him get free; he could have easily held the guy down until he drowned. Just as his cousin filled his lungs for the third time, he grabbed his flanks and pulled him under again. Chris felt the strong paws encircling his waist and pulling him under. He fought back in vain as his cousin's thick, strong arms overpowered his worn out body. Ted smacked his cousin into his torso, trapping his face between his pecs. He wrapped his arms around his cousin's back and pulled him into his huge body as he let the both of them sink down to the bottom of the pool. Chris tied resisting but the two huge arms wrapped around him like two thick anacondas pushed his own arms into his flanks. The protruding chest began crushing his face as his cousin began flexing his pecs. He could feel the teen beast's big cock hardening some more against his own soft one. Ted felt all powerful and hardened his flex even more while his cock swelled inside his swim shorts. Pain shot through Chris as the steel-like girders of the muscle prison that trapped him hardened even more around him. His head got free from the canyon between the protruding pecs on his cousin's chest and shot aside against the surface of the hard left pectoral. His lips encountered the protruding, hard nipple and instinctively he sucked on it. Ted's head shot back in unexpected pleasure and his cock hardened further as his smaller cousin sucked his sensitive nipple. He enjoyed the pleasure, his now rock-hard cock smacking against his cousin's weakened abs. He knew the smaller guy was on the verge of passing out and released his grip to let him up. Chris surfaced as soon as the strong arms broke their grip. He took in deep breaths, filling his lungs and chasing the black dots that danced in front of his eyes. Ted surfaced also. He grabbed his smaller cousin, hoisted him out of the pool and laid him down aside it. Then, he got out himself. Chris stared up at his huge cousin towering over him; the teen beast's rock-hard cock tenting his swim shorts. Ted turned around, ripped off his own sweat shorts and stepped over to Trisha. He positioned himself over her frail, 120 pound body and rammed his cock into her through her bikini pants. Trisha's eyes rolled back in pleasure and her back arched off chair as the thick head of Ted's 11 incher invade her. Her hands grabbed hold of his wide, muscular back for support, unable to dent the undulating mounds of muscle that flowed into each other. Ted drove more and more inches of his monster meat into his cousin's girlfriend right in front of his eyes. Trisha convulsed and shivered in ecstatic pleasure, her back arching up even more and pressing her body against the teen beast's hard torso as her juiced began flowing along the hard snake that was being pushed roughly into her. One third of the teen's meat made her climax faster than her boyfriend's entire cock. Still pumped and horned up after trashing his cousin, Ted drove two more inches of his hard meat into Trisha before he began pumping in and out of her. He fucked her hard, savoring his domination in front of his cousin, and trashed the chair they were laying in. "GOD! GOOOOOOOOD! Ughn…", excited moans and incoherent sounds escaped Trisha's mouth as the 280 pound, muscular beast began to fuck her hard. She cramped up and spasmed against the hard slabs of beef of his torso. She wrapped her legs up around his thick legs, letting her frail body rock back and forth under the force of his fucking. Ted put his hands on the ground and cranked out some pushups as he fucked his cousin's girlfriend harder and harder. "YEAUGHN!", he roared deeply and loudly as his orgasm exploded through his 280 pound body, his huge muscles flexing in the process. Trisha passed out: her senses being overloaded with pleasure as the teen beast came inside her. Her limp body hung atop his thick snake as he did some more pushups. Ted felt cum drip along the exposed two thirds of his shaft and slid onto his dangling, big balls. He withdrew from Trisha and stood up in front of his cousin: his 11 incher pointed straight up and kept blasting out angry spurts that flew up above his own head and splattered down in a sticky rain on his beastly body. As his orgasm wore down, he strutted over to his cousin and roughly lifted him up. Chris stared up at the teen beast as he was lifted from the ground. He shivered in the strong grip and felt the still hard, cum-drenched cock slid along his own abs. "Yar girl is mine now, Chrissy", Ted boomed, "She'll keep living with ya and ya better take good care of her. Got it?". Chris nodded in response and was thrown down on the floor. "Now get her home!", Ted barked and dove back into the pool.

The heavy fire door swung open so violently the closing mechanism snapped with a sharp bang as Adrien Brody crashed through into the alley like he was shot out of a cannon. Josh stepped through the frame and caught the edge of the door deftly as it rebounded off the side of the studio’s wall. He looked back over his shoulder to Jet. “Tell everyone to take the rest of the morning off, we’ll come back after lunch,” he directed bluntly, then slammed the door behind him and approached Brody, now sprawled on the ground, clutching his lower back were he’d hit the fire door’s horizontal pushbar. “You and I are going to have some words, asshole,” Josh said angrily as he closed on the actor. “Actually not words so much as sound effects.” With that he slammed a hard fist into his own thick palm with a loud SMACK! Brody scrambled backwards to get some distance, his cockiness evaporating. As a tall guy, he hadn’t been manhandled like that since he was a teen, and never by a dude 8 inches shorter than him. Jesus, what the fuck was that? He still couldn’t quite believe what was happening. His back hit the alley’s opposite wall and he reached his arms back to lever himself back up to a standing position. With his height and reach advantage re-established he felt some confidence return. “You’re gonna regret that, motherfucker,” he growled and, raising his fists up in a boxing stance, he closed on Josh and went for a left jab, straight right, left cross combo. With reflexes the likes of which Brody had never seen, Josh batted the punches aside like he was swatting flies, and leapt forward to smash a brutal head butt on Brody’s elegant brow. “Gaaaah!” the handsome actor screeched as he stumbled backwards into the alley wall, then bent over and clutched his head in searing pain. His skull rang like a bell and when he opened his eyes he was seeing double. Josh gripped the actor’s shiny black locks and pulled his head up to get right in his face. Through Brody’s filmy, concussed gaze Josh looked practically demonic, his face flushed and his eyes flashing. Dontpanicdontpanicdontpanic. “Are you starting to get an idea about what I’m ‘gonna do about it’, bitch?” Josh hissed. “L-l-listen. Dude. Don’t you fucking know who I am? I’m Adrien Brody and I got a Sony film set to be on tomorrow! You think you’ll ever get work again when I tell them you fucked up my face?” Josh folded his taut muscular arms over his chest, the adrenalin of the fight pumping up his torso so that the Black Flag t-shirt clung to his powerful physique like a second skin. “Thanks for reminding me, dumbass. I guess I now have nothing left to lose.” “W-w-wait” Brody backpedalled uselessly as the director grabbed the actor’s head and shoved it between his thighs. Before he could register what was going on, Brody felt two strong arms around his waist and suddenly he was airborne again. Josh had pulled him upside down into a piledriver position. But he put too much muscle into the lift and Brody over rotated, throwing Josh off balance. Brody sensed a chance and wrapped his own long legs around Josh’s head and flexed hard. The actor wrung a muffled grunt from the director as he stumbled, releasing Brody’s head from his thighs, then fell onto his back. Brody ended up on top as Josh landed hard, his face mashed into Brody’s crotch as he got the wind knocked out of him. Brody shouted with glee at this turnaround: “Yeah mother fucker, how do you like me now?” He brought his own hard lean arms up into a double bicep flex, as he gloated over the breathless director. “Get… your… bony… fucking… ass… off… my… chest,” Josh gasped, sucking in air to get his strength back. Brody reached back to pound a fist into his diaphragm, but Josh’s stomach was granite hard. Josh raised his legs up to hook under the actor’s arms and easily threw the taller man off him. Josh got to his feet and lifted the bottom of his tee to show off an eight pack of carved abs. “Wanna try that again mother fucker?” he sneered, “see if those pipecleaners you call arms can dent these babies?” Enraged at being mocked, Brody clocked Josh across the face and then followed up with a flurry of body blows. Rather than winding him like Brody hoped, Josh just threw back his head and laughed. “And I ain’t even flexing yet, you’re fucking pathetic. Who’s your boxing coach, Honey Boo Boo?” he grinned, totally unfazed by the head shot too. What the fuck, this guy is made of metal! Josh then smashed a left into the actor’s stomach with so much force it sent Brody reeling backwards toward a dumpster. A wave of nausea overcame him and he fell to his knees retching. As he dry heaved and gasped, his hands felt something long and cold on the ground. His long fingers closed on the end of the piece of rebar. Brandishing it as he got to his feet, he tried to get a hard look back on his face. But Josh looked the furthest thing from scared. “Now things get interesting,” he said, gesturing to Brody, “Bring it, bitch!” The actor leaped forward and swung three times with the half-inch thick bar, but Josh dodged each one. On the third he grabbed the bar, wrenched it down to the horizontal and held it between them. Brody grabbed the other end too and pushed hard trying to use his height and weight advantage to drive Josh back. Josh planted one foot behind him and stopped Brody’s momentum cold. Goddamit , pushhhhh! Brody muscled arms and lean pecs surged as he put everything he had into pressing Josh back. Sweat pored off the actor’s face and arms as he strained, his face contorted in a teeth-grinding grimace. Josh was sweating too, but a huge grin plastered his face. “Smug motherfucker! I’m gonna wipe that smirk off your face.” With a surge of adrenaline, Brody growled and threw his whole body into his next push, and felt Josh’s arms tremble. Yessss! But his glee was short lived. He saw Josh was now concentrating and straining with huge effort. His traps bunched up high on his strong neck, his lean pecs inflated to twice their size, and his arms… Holy shit! With a bang, the sleeves of Josh’s Black Flag t-shirt tore in jagged rents up to the shoulder, busted utterly by an avalanche of bicep muscle. Josh let loose a primal roar that Brody felt in his bones and the half inch rebar bent into a hairpin sharply before snapping in two! Brody, stunned, dropped his hands to the side momentarily before something primitive in his brain took over. Before he even knew what was happening he was fleeing in panic. But Josh was faster and tackled him into the side of the dumpster. “Not done with you yet, asshole,” the director hissed as he stomped on Brody’s chest to hold him in place. “I should throw you into this thing because that’s all you are, fucking trash! But I’m in the mood for a bigger challenge than tossing your puny body around again.” Giving Brody another stomp, Josh turned and reached up to grip the edge of the dumpster with both of his well muscled hands. Brody, winded from the two chest stomps, and utterly exhausted, could only shake his head in disbelief. No fucking way! Josh’s back exploded as he hauled on the edge of the dumpster like a man possessed. Tanned wings of lat muscle ripped through the seams of Josh’s now thoroughly destroyed shirt as the alley dumpster slowly tipped up on its outer edge. Holding the huge steel box with arms now positively bloated with pump, the director stared down at an astonished Brody. Josh’s torso, silhouetted against the alley lights, flared like a cobra hood. His deep hairy pits dripped sweat and testosterone. “Take a good look at what a real man looks like, punk. And think about what kind of man you want to be while you’re in traction. Josh dropped his arms and let the dumpster go, and started walking out of the alley as he heard the satisfying crunch of Brody’s arms snapping while reflexively trying to break its fall. After dialing 911, Josh crushed his phone in his fist and tossed the pieces aside. Fucking awesome pump, gotta lay low for a bit, but definitely gonna get my hands on some more assholes who’ve screwed me over in this town. Tearing the scraps of cloth from his hairy and unbelievable jacked torso, he stalked off into the night. Acknowledgement to zipman for a story element

Hey folks didn't have much luck getting a response to my stories on Tumblr, think it's more visual. Hope you like it, will post the conclusion soon. Let me know what celebs you want to see in my fistfights. Josh was fuming as he called for a set break. Fuck! This music video he was directing had become a nightmare since Adrien Brody had horned in. The tall lanky actor, insecure about his relationship with his model girlfriend Monica, had shown up on set and kept interrupting with unsolicited advice – like he knows anything about fucking music videos . He was also staring daggers at Jet, the band’s lead singer who is the object of Monica’s affection in the video. Jet was a sensitive soul and was intimidated by the actor who was half a foot taller and ripped from honing his body for another Predator sequel. Brody, in a tight black tee, would stand with his burning gaze just to the right of Josh’s camera, his long muscled arms folded over his chest. Jet’s concentration was shot and the takes Josh filmed were useless, hence his call for a break. Josh hit the can and glanced in the washroom’s mirror as he washed his hands. You look, stressed, kid, he thought, gonna have to have a motherfucker of a workout to forget about this day. His hairy lean forearms rippled as he quickly lathered and rinsed in the sink. The gym was his release from the pressures of the Hollywood rat race and he never missed getting his pump on. “POW!” he sneered, as he snapped his arms up into an impressive double biceps, his baseball sized peaks stretching his Black Flag t-shirt’s sleeves. Fucking jacked! Some cocky flexing always went a long way to boosting his confidence. Josh knew Brody got pumped for his movie over 3 months with a million dollar personal trainer, but he’d be back to his regular diet of booze, cigarettes and cocaine the day filming wrapped on the shirtless scenes. For Josh though, fitness was an obsession, and a necessary way to manage his volatile temper. His ferocity in the gym was legendary, and he had the respect of the muscleheads at his hard-core gym even though the place had dumbbells that weighed more than his 145 lbs. Recharged, Josh left the washroom and made his way down the hall back to the studio. When he turned into the next hall, he saw Brody had Jet cornered by the fire exit. Brody pressed up against the wall, a hand on either side of Jet’s head as the slightly built singer tried to flatten himself backward. Josh could see Jet was trembling. “I don’t want to see you even looking at her, you hear me punk?” Jet burbled something incomprehensible as he tried to avoid Brody’s malevolent stare only to find himself gawping at the brooding star’s flared triceps. Josh shook his head. You clueless moron. Josh knew that Jet was gay and he was far more likely to stare at the pale skinned, dark haired hunk than his girlfriend. In fact he was probably speechless being this close to Brody, in this position, the short sleeves of his black tee rode up, exposing the curve of his rounded delts and tufts of black pit hair. Given that they had all just been sweating under hot studio lights, Josh knew Jet – such an armpit whore – was probably weak in the knees from Brody’s man stench. Easy Joshie, deep breaths. As he approached the pair, Josh tried to control his temper. He was still trying to make a career in LA and flipping out on a Hollywood star was the last thing he needed. “Okay folks, back to the set.” He announced in non-chalant fashion to the hallway, as if it was filled with crew. With relief he saw Brody turn away. He turned himself to reach for the studio door but froze when he heard the tall star sneer: “Just fucking remember what I said, faggot.” Turning back, Josh slowly shook his head and rubbed his stubble-bearded jaw. “Aw. You really shouldn’t have said that, asshole.” Brody looked down on the much shorter director and laughed derisively. “Yeah, squirt? And what are you gonna do about it?” Josh looked up into the actor’s eyes with a cold, deliberate glare, then spread his lean muscled arms wide, only to snap them closed like the jaws of a steel trap. Brody cried out painfully as strong hands clamped onto his arms just above the elbow, forcing them into his flanks. Josh’s delts bulged menacingly as he raised the lanky actor into the air. Brody gaped in disbelief as he felt his feet leave the floor. “Guess you’re about to find out, prick.”

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Please give me feedback! It will mean a lot! This growing superbeing thing is really different from my usual type of story (I still found this kind of hot when writing it) Part 1: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1556-my-dad-is-a-big-boy-re-post/ Part 2: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1560-my-dads-boy-is-a-big-boy/ Part 3: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1569-my-dads-boy-is-a-man/ Part 4: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1595-my-dad-is-a-secret-holder/ Part 5: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1596-my-dad-is-a-cum-fountain/ Part 6: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/1606-my-dad-is-a-room-wrecker/ Part 7: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/5895-my-dad-is-a-psychic/ My Dad is a Genius I scratched my brain as I tried to collect the proper formula on the Chemistry homework he’d been given as work over spring break. I couldn’t decide which was the more confusing equation. The ones I’d been asked to form and solve both on paper and in a physical model or the fact that I’d been given homework on Spring Break in the first place. Of course, it was a pretty simple calculation when the homework was coming from Professor Halt. He’d been a hard ass all semester, giving a barrage of tests and project assessments as if he was never really sure how many knew the material. I was typically on the upper side of the class but not because I was really a brilliant mind or anything. Years of having to studying without help from my parent got me god studying skills to pass tests even when I didn’t understand something. Most people would call it abusing the American educational system but I called it survival. That rang just as true when against Professor Halt. Still, it was a | | night with me on the massive couch in the large mansion, my ears stuffed with loud music that was making it tough to really make many coherent thoughts. I was the kind who needed peace and quiet to really collect my thoughts. Some asshole on the internet had convinced me Mozart was good for stimulating the brain but what I was beginning to realize was the article didn’t indicate what volume you were supposed to listen at. My ears were blaring with violins and brass that blurred my numbers together like a Sudoku puzzle. No one would put themselves through torture like that unless it was to block out something. For some, its loud family members. For others, loud neighbors or sex noises. For me, it was all of the above tenfold. What does “tenfold” mean? Well, after dad discovered he was gaining powers, he and Jeff began playing around and trying to figure out what dad was able to do. His growing pains persisted but they began to show new things in exchange for size. When it began, Dad was able to hold almost as much weight as he could with his own hands and hover over the ground for a rough 3-5 minutes before he had a head ache each. But after only three days, he’d gained the power to lift tons of weight for more than 2 hours and fly several feet without using his telekinesis for another 4 hours! Thing is, after gaining powers like that, dad started getting inventive with his….. sexual desires. I’d generally come to accept that he and Jeff were growing men with desires I couldn’t fathom being bu a fraction of either of their sizes. But in exchange for that understanding, they took it as a sign that I’d be ok with whatever they did. At first, when dad was starting to get hungry for sex, he’d give Jeff a subtle look warning him and then they’d try to play it off. After dad’s powers grew, though, they started to get more feral and beastial with their mind blowing sex. Dad would do things at the dinner table like stuff one of his massive turkey legs into his mouth and tear at it like a beast while eyeing Jeff, who was receiving it approvingly. Since I was the shortest now among the three of us, it was very impossible for them to hide their horniness since I could see that, though they were across from each other on the far ends of the dinner table, they were rubbing at enormous crotch balloons that only pumped bigger as the dinner went on before they finally excused themselves. Their kind gestures began to loosen and leak out their true intentions as time went on as Dad grew. Jeff, having not purchased new clothes in a while, had begin to really strain the fabric and was bulging every which way. Just last night, we were eating dinner and Dad was carving into more food like the bottomless pit he was becoming when a loud RIP reached over the table and grabbed his attention. Jeff grinned as dad would pay attention and notice his pectoral had finally burst from the polo he’d worn to the dinner table. His beefy chest muscle filled the gap and more as it continued to tear when he grinned and flexed it. “Guess I’m going to have to order some clothes again” he said as he flexed a bicep and popped a sleeve. Dad was staring mid chew with focused, dilated eyes. It wasn’t hard to figure what happened next when the two suddenly stood up and abruptly ran out of the room. That entire night, I could hear screams and cries of sexual pleasure across the house that made it nearly impossible to fall into my dreams. I was hard but frustrated as I tried to block out the shouts that shook the walls thanks to dad’s stronger and heavier voice. Can’t get much worse right? Just raise the volume on a soft song, right? Problem solved? Yeah, it would be if you subtract dad’s powers. I wasn’t listening to Mozart on a blaring volume for kicks. The walls were shaking around me as I sat on the tall couch with its tall table. Dad and Jeff were at it again, this time harder than ever. Since last night, Jeff had told me how Dad was starting to get even more powerful and he wasn’t kidding. The walls were shaking as though a continuous earthquake were moving through the house. Walls creaked as dad was most certainly pounding Jeff like a jack hammer against the wall of their apartment….. in midair. Jef’s story telling about his escapades with dad were very detailed. It was still pretty weird hearing my brother talk about how dad was ripping him a new one with his supernatural flying, strength, and sexuality but I got by. I shuffled my body on the couch as best I could to try and stop my hard cock from pressing into my zipper but it was tough. I was my father’s son after all. My 11 inches of cock bounced in their confines thinking of what those two were doing and I hated every minute of it. I’m not fucking turned on by my dad, I tried to say as I pushed my hard on down to continue studying. The chemistry book I had bounced and fell off the living room table unnoticed as I focused solely on the papers before me. I was putting all my efforts into ignoring my dad and brother as they continued breaking in the wall. “Those two shouldn’t get a fucking room, they should get a fucking hotel” I grumbled as I adjusted my headphones and continued trying to solve this same equation after 20 minutes of staring at it. I was so absorbed in my own little world that I didn’t notice the shaking stop and the pictures on the wall stop shivering and hanging onto their nails as best as they could. Ten minutes later of mind numbing number cruching that got me nowhere with a boner stabbing my pants again, I wasn’t prepared for the giant shadow made by the large being in front of one of the living room lamps. “Whatcha workin’ on, Squirt?” came a deep baritone filled voice over me. I jumped in my seat and nearly fell the 5 feet distance from the seat of the couch to the floor but caught myself. I was so shocked from my own movement, I had to take a second to take in Dad’s form. His pecs were getting so perky and powerful looking that they were going to block our view on each other on this angle pretty soon. His body was covered in sweat that trickled down the grooves in his muscles like rivers of perspiration. I had to appreciate how lean dad was now, his muscles starting to show veins even when he wasn’t pumped. His short hair was matted on his forehead and looked as if he had been through a thunder storm. His powerful brow showed thick eyebrows that gave his face more masculinity than even Jeff or I expected of him. Dad’s face had a 5 o’clock shadow even though Jeff had shaved him in the massive bathroom after their…. morning escapades. Wearing nothing but a straining pair of tailored briefs that we’d customed ordered but were already straining, his muscles bulged with might. “Uh, nothing dad..” I mumbled. Dad grinned at me as if thinking about something. “Can I help you with nothing?” he asked with a fatherly grin. I raised an eyebrow as he asked that. Dad had tried helping us in high school because he’d met my highschool friends’ parents and how they had introduced themselves as the best parents ever, helping their kinds with their homework thanks to their knowledge from doctorate degrees. Dad had tried this and me, being the guilt ridden son that I was, tried to let him. Dad’s learning abilities were pretty shot after high school (or pretty much during for that matter). So helping wasn’t all that great. “Um…. Sure, dad. I’m working on my chemistry homework.” “Chemistry?! Ha! Lemme see!” he said as he came at me for the paper playfully. A 17 foot giant coming at you playfully was almost scary as I feared I’d get crushed by an avalanche of dad muscle. I shielded myself pathetically with my arms preparing to be crushed when I felt the paper leave my hand and my hair get ruffled, I opened my eyes just to see a big chin eclipse my vision before dad backed. “I haven’ seen you cringe like tha’ in years, squirt! Yar abou’ as teeny tiny to me as ya were back when you and ya brother were just toddlers. I swear I have to be careful or I could break that little shape!” I looked away frustrated as he looked at my homework. I didn’t realize it till he said it now but I really was shrinking in his eyes. I was a puny little thing to him that he called his son but in reality, besides the hair and eyes, I could have been anyone else’s child. And Jeff was just following his footsteps. I was shrinking and becoming a speck of human man like everyone else. Would Jeff get this big? Would I get this turned on by him? Would he gain powers? I was so in my own mind that I wasn’t watching as dad picked up my chemistry book in a puzzled fashion. He looked back and forth from the paper for a few minutes before setting down the paper and looking at the book, flipping pages. I grabbed my composure and grew a cocky grin. “Yeah, it’s pretty tough. It took me a day or so to figure out the formula and calculate it. You want to crack at it later?” I said in the most innocent way that I could. I was just happy that dad still needed me this much. He and Jeff were the big and super powerful ones but I’d get to be the smart one. I looked over at dad, his mouth unmoving but his eyes darting over the pages “Where’s Jeff?” I wondered as he read. “He’s on his bad. Poor kid is laying on his stomach and snoring hard. Tried to get him to stand but he just wasn’t able. He’ll have trouble walking for a bit” I was grinning to try and ease him out of the homework like I used to as I barely registered the information but something was different. The pages….. they were zipping by. Dad was flipping the pages practically every 5 seconds, giving them a rapid look and then moving to the next one like he’d memorized the pages. My eyes widened as I discovered what dad was doing. Dad suddenly hit the last page of the 300 page book with a thud and looked back at me. “Sorry, squirt. You waitin’ on me to solve the problem?” he said. I only looked shocked and handed him the paper. “Dad….?” I tried to say but Dad wasn’t listening. Dad took the paper and grabbed my pencil, snapping it. “Fuck” he said before taking one of my pens and confidently writing in the blank for the equation. His fingers zipped over the page, numbers, equal signs, and other things chasing his hand rapidly. I couldn’t decide if dad was destroying my paper or if he was…… Dad handed the paper back to me after 20 seconds and grinned. “How’s that?” he asked with raised brows as though his concern was more to be helpful than to be correct. I grabbed the paper with shaking hands and scanned it with wide eyes. Everything was… “Right” I said aloud. Dad grinned as he heard the word and his perfect white teeth shone. I looked at him shocked and almost horrified. “Dad…. You just read that book fast” “Whatcha mean? I read for about 2 hours like usual, right?” “No…..it was probably about 4 or 5 minutes…” It was Dad’s turn to widen his eyes as he realized what I was saying. He looked at the book confused. “It just came so easy. The book just made sense.” Dad looked at me with an excited grin and saw my open bookbag carrying several other books. “Hand me those books!” he said with an outstretched hand. I looked at the books as though they were gold I didn’t want to hand over. Dad had just proved his powers were still growing, and fast! I knew if I gave him the books I had, he couldn’t go back to being dumb old lovable dad. I didn’t want him to change anymore than he already did but I didn’t want to hold him back for something so petty. I grabbed the books in my hands and raised them over dad’s big hand. His hands were now wide enough to reach the ends of the covers from the end of his middle finger to his palm. I watched shocked as he read the 7 books I gave him, his eyes flashing over the pages at 10 seconds per page. First he passed through my statistics book, then my calculus book I’d bought ahead of next year. Then he passed over U.S. History and even my art History book, all thick 400-700 page books that he’d finished in roughly 30 minutes. By the end of it, there was a huge grin on his face and his eyes seemed to look at something far away. “Dad?” I said worriedly as he looked at the papers on my table and quickly grabbed the pen by him. My jaw dropped as I watched dad cut through any homework or projects I had like they were coloring book pages before he neatly stacked them onto the table again. “Shit” he said as he looked at the papers and then at his hands. I could see the gears move through his head as he tried to understand what had happened. “I….helped you with your homework. All of it….” I looked at the papers on the table and felt my stomach sink and my jaw go along with it as I was coming to an agreement on his statement. Everything was right and correct and showed work where it was needed. Each page was the equivalent to a perfect 100. Even when he crossed into high level calculus! I didn’t have time to sulk as dad suddenly stood up. When something as big as him stood up, you noticed it pretty easily. “Dad? Are you ok? You just solved all of my college level homework and finished it after reading all my books in under an hour!” Dad didn’t seem to totally hear me as he focused in on something as though he were looking through the wall. “Son” he said. I sat up as though he’d just given me a command as his deep voice sounded dumbfoundingly serious. He was like a large ferocious beast suddenly. Was it his actual size or was it his presence? Something had changed completely. “Warn your brother. We’re gonna be in trouble soon.” To Be Continued…….

Part 1 David was a wizard, a magician, at what he did, and the high-tech sports supplement company Rynth Labs paid him well for his work. He had an early, glorious career working for the pharmaceutical industry, but he was a bit of a maverick. He felt more at home in the supplement industry that had less oversight and regulation, and the fact that he could use extracts and derivatives, but never directly any hormones or drugs, added an extra level of challenge. He didn't mind when a sales guy once called him a "modern day shaman." And he had the results to show for his work. He had built an elite group of competitors that benefitted from his research. Some of his products found their way into the commercial products that brought in profits, but many were too dangerous or delicate or expensive to be mass-produced and trusted to the public. Under his watchful eye and attention to detail and rigourous administration, these top contenders benefitted from David's magical potions in exchange for advertising Rynth products. David loved seeing the physical body develop and grow, and he hoped to develop a supplement that could safely trigger massive muscle growth in anyone. He often sampled his own products and had an trim, athletic body to show for it, but he spent most of his time in the lab and behind books, rather than in the gym lifting weights. He was frustrated that the amazing products he was producing were not the ones available to the public. Too often the company decided it was more cost-effective to keep the formulas for the sponsored athletes and used a cheaper imitation of his work that often did little. David was repeatedly reminded that his job was to focus on the athletes that brought in the money. Nobody reminded him of that more often than Russell (aka "The Muscle"). Most of David's athletes were bodybuilders, with some powerlifters and a sprinter. Russell was defending his Mr. O title and was Lab Rynth's star athlete and he knew it. He was David's first project when he started at Rynth Labs about 12 years ago. Russell had won his first local teenage-level show and with David's magic, his body and ego had more than doubled in size since then. At 6 feet tall, he had a chest that pumped up to five feet around, arms that reached two feet around, a ripped 33 inch waist and each leg expanded to three feet around. He could deadlift, squat and bench up to 1,000 pounds. "Isn't it your job to make the BIG guys bigger? I don't care about all the wanna-be's." Russell always felt like David was holding out on him, trying to come up with something safe for the masses rather than something potent for him to soar higher than anyone. And by "anyone" he was thinking of Tomin Rau, last year's runner up who was nearly as impressive as Russ was, and was a sponsored athlete of Rynth lab's biggest rival Sun Labs. David knew they were cheating, using drugs and training techniques that sometimes crippled or killed their athletes until they found one or two who could withstand the abuse and respond by growing faster than natural, then cleaning them up before competing. David had caught Russ using steroids or test, and he had to scramble to avoid a bad reaction before warning Russ that he could have had a heart attack or damaged his organs irreparably. Russ didn't seem to care much about the risk, but he also didn't want to get on David's bad side too much, so it didn't happen often. "What's something new you got for me?" Russ asked about 7 months out from the next Mr. O. "I've got a couple things in animal trials," David began. "I need something now," Russ demanded. "Well, one cocktail was for digesting protein and delivering it to muscles more efficiently, but it looks like it has the opposite effect and digested half the skeletal muscle in the rats and then they pissed it out. You want to try that?" David retorted. "No, but I'd like to give it to Tomin.... Hey, could we do that?" "Sabotage is not very sportsman like." "I'm not a sportsman, I'm a winner." "And do you have any way of getting a supplement to Tomin?" "I might know a guy who supplies him and I might have some leverage with said guy." "Well, we tried to give the rats human-like guts for the experiment, but it might work the way it was designed on humans afterall, and if it does, you'd be giving Tomin a powerful weapon." "So do a human trial and find out!" "Are you volunteering? That's quite a gamble." "Don't you know the best way to gamble is with someone else's money? Have one of the other guys here test it." David didn't need to respond for Russ to know he lost the argument, and with a grumble Russ brought out his log for David to review. But Russ's argument nagged at David. He was pretty sure that he had the theory and models right, but it was possible that the disappointing results in the rats would be repeated in a human, as well. Who would be as desparate but even more reckless than Russell? Maybe a younger Russell, David thought, and he made some phone calls.