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“Gentlemen, what you are about to witness is the ultimate test of strength” For days, rumours had been whirling around Musketeer Headquarters as to why Captain Treville had asked all active Musketeers to gather in the main courtyard at midday on the longest day of the year. Some people thought that it was to select the newest cadets to join the corps, some people thought that the King was coming to confer some great honour, some even thought that D’Artangan was going to announce his engagement to the Queen’s maid, so the start of the Captain’s speech was a little strange “For years” he continued, “you have all marvelled at the strength of Porthos. A man who has ripped oak trees out of the ground, a man who has wrestled the largest bull in Christendom to the ground and a man who would willingly give his life for the King and this country! Today, though, he will perform a test of strength that no man has ever performed before” and with that he nodded and Aramis raised a curtain revealing a cannon “This, gentlemen, is Big Bessie, the largest and heaviest cannon ever to be built in this nation. The cannonballs it fires require two men just to load it” and with that he clicked his fingers and Athos and D’Artangan struggled out of the main building carrying a cannonball that was as big as their heads. After several moments they managed to load it into the cannon and mopped their brows. “Note” continued the captain, “that is it sitting on a board that is twelve feet long and six feet wide” and with that he nodded again and Aramis, Athos, D’Artangan and several other Musketeers pulled on any number of pulleys and raised the cannon into the air. Just then, an almighty roar came from inside the main building and Porthos stomped out, his face redder than the apples and his chest heaving and naked. He stomped down the steps and grunting, lay down under the board. “DROP!” came the command and the men holding the cannon let it drop but before it reached Porthos’s chest, the titan shot two arms into the air and caught it. Huffing and puffing, he roared at the top of his voice and lifted the board and the cannon as far as his arms would allow him and started to count. “ONE” he roared, “TWO” he grunted, “THREE” he shouted and then swore at the top of his voice. “COME ON PORTHOS” shouted a Musketeer in the crowd, “SHOW THAT CANNON WHO THE STRONGEST MAN IN THE WORLD IS!” That encouragement fuelled the fire in Porthos’s belly and he continued to lift. “FOUR” His chest was heaving, sweat was pouring off his face and his breathing was getting harder “F…FIVE!” “ONE MORE” screamed the crowd as one Porthos lowered the cannon to his chest and taking a massive breath, gritted his teeth and yelled “MERDE!” as he lifted the cannon for a sixth time. The Musketeers charged with holding the cannon quickly rushed to the giant and connected it back to the pulleys and took the strain as Porthos stood up and roared his power. To describe Porthos as a titan was unworthy to the Titans of ancient Greece. This was a man, yes, but a man who just exuded physical strength. And a man who was being worshipped by everyone present. Except one man. He had watched the scene with an increasing sense of concern. For he was a spy from the Cardinal’s Guards and he had one very simple mission. Dispose of Porthos once and for all. “He is not a man” he thought to himself as Porthos flexed his mammoth chest, “he is a true titan. He cannot be defeated!” and with that he slipped away to report his findings to his superiors, the roaring of Porthos celebrating his triumph over metal ringing in his ears. *** Cardinal Richelieu listened to his spy’s report and nodded. The spy bowed and left the Cardinal to muse on the findings. He stood up and went to the balcony that overlooked the city of Paris. He’d known for years that Porthos was the lynchpin of the Musketeers and every attempt to kill him had failed. The Cardinal was about to thump his hand onto the balustrades when he suddenly had a thought. Porthos was the lynchpin of the Musketeers and therefore would be privy to information that no one else would be. As he thought more, a wicked smile crossed his face. No, killing Porthos was not the way, capturing Porthos alive was the key to bringing the Musketeers down. As he went back to his desk, he was reminded of one of the things his spy had said. “Your Eminence, that man is not human!” The wicked smile now turned into a grin. “Any man is human” he thought to himself, “and as such has human desires!” He wrote a note to his premier spy and attached it to the foot of a raven that he set fly across the Paris skyline. As he watched it fly, the grin turned into a chuckle. “Let’s see the inhuman Musketeer work his way out of that!” and with that ordered his carriage to be made ready. *** “Aye” said Porthos, downing his fifth mug of mead that day, “but don’t let the Captain hear what she said!” The Musketeers all laughed loudly as Porthos told another tale of another woman, so in awe of his strength that she called him “husband” in front of her husband. Porthos liked being with both men and women, but liked it best when whoever he was with was having a good time. He was just about to order another round, when a man burst into the inn. Looking around, he spied the Musketeers and grabbed Porthos by the collar “My lord” he said, panicked, “my child’s life is in danger!” Instantly, all the Musketeers stood up and followed the man outside and instantly sprang into action as they saw what had happened. There was a house on fire in a nearby street and although the man and his wife had escaped, their child was trapped on the top floor with no means of escape. “Gentlemen” said Porthos, taking charge, “Alert the guards that a fire is in need of attention. Athos, Aramis, organise a water chain, D’Artangan, go to headquarters and bring reinforcements, this fire cannot be allowed to spread!” The Musketeers saluted and set about their tasks as Porthos looked up and saw the child being engulfed by smoke. “WHAT’S YOUR NAME?” he shouted “Pierre” coughed the child “PIERRE” shouted Porthos, “I WANT YOU TO CLIMB OUT OF THAT ROOM AND JUMP. I PROMISE AS A KING’S MUSKETEER TO CATCH YOU!” As Pierre clambered up to the window frame, the man’s wife fainted. “I promise you, sir!” Porthos said, as he positioned himself below the window, “your child will come to no harm!” Suddenly, there was a gasp as Pierre lost his footing and fell. Porthos dived towards the house, rolled over and gritted his teeth as Pierre landed squarely on his stomach. He bounced up a few inches and Porthos caught him in his arms on the way down. Just as he was about to comfort the child, he saw an overhanging piece of wood, well alight, break off and fall to the ground. Placing Pierre on the ground, he covered the child and took the force of the impact which would have killed a normal man. Porthos, still covering Pierre, crawled away from the house just as a group of guards arrived and started to tackle the blaze, closely followed by Athos and Aramis and a collection of people all holding buckets waiting to be directed. As Porthos staggered to his feet, Pierre crawled out from under him and ran to his father. “Thank you, sir!” said the father, as he hugged his child, “You are truly a living Titan” “Indeed you are, sir” said a voice, and Porthos turned around to find a finely dressed woman holding a rose in her hand. Porthos was instantly smitten and as the lady turned round, waving the rose as if it were a lure, Porthos stumbled along, muttering.

Check out the previous installments here: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2206-the-milking-agent-part-1-2/ After finally giving in to his desires and growing into an furry beast like Gabe and Madison, Russell finishes having hot manly sex with his master sharing milk with him and vice versa. Knowing that they can’t grow any further, the thought crosses their minds as to who they could convert next. Gabriel still sits behind them scooping up the cum he shot when he saw Russell become a giant himself. He tries to stand up from where he is sitting and struggles to regain his footing. He ends up falling out the window directly behind him and tumbles to the ground. The other two manage to go over to see if he is alright since he fell about three stories and landed on the concrete. ‘Uhhh…..*looks up at them where the window was and laughs* I’m fine I think *sees the blood that was spilled from his body being absorbed back inside him and grins* OMG boys, we can’t be hurt…..at least when it is just a minor fall like this. *sees the broken concrete around him* FUCK ME! I LOVE IT! *looks back up at them again* You two can enjoy yourselves up there, I am going to go look for some fun myself. *gets up out of the crater and turns to start waddling towards the other side of the city*’ Madison and Russell feel each other up again while trying to brainstorm who else they know that is close to them that they want to convert. Since he is part of the financial division of the company, Russell remembers that one of his young coworkers always stared at him in a very flirty way. Madison thinks he knows who that is since he has sat in on some of their meetings since he is Gabriel’s assistant. Since it is afterhours, they have to come up with a plan to get this guy to come in. Russell thinks that he can tell him that they are having an emergency meeting and needs his help to come up with a solution especially since the building is in such disarray. They both laugh in their deep baritones and give several nice tugs on each other’s nipples spraying milk all over themselves. Trying not to get into another sex session, Russell says he will go find a phone in another part of the building to get the ball rolling. Madison stands there trying to think of someone he knows that could be a part of this plan too. The only other guy he can think of is his friend from the cafeteria, Galen. He knows that sometimes he stays late to cleanup and generally can’t hear things on the bottom floor. Wasting no more time, he starts waddling his way through the third floor and down a flight of stairs nearby. When he gets to the bottom floor, he reaches for the door to go out into the main lobby and accidentally rips it off the hinges like it is made of paper. The sheer power in his hands amazes him as he tosses the door beside him. When he walks through the doorway, he looks around to see if anyone is still in the building. The cafeteria is located about 100 feet down the hall which he quickly starts rushing towards. When he finally gets there, he can hear someone in behind a nearby wall located just beside where he is standing. He decides to just press on it which makes the drywall shift and start collapsing. The voice behind the wall yells in fright. ‘HOLY SHIT! WHAT THE HELL!? *moves back away from the crumbling wall* What is going on with this….. *sees the giant figure in front of the wall* OH GAWD….. *starts running the other way*’ Madison jumps through the hole in the wall and shakes the floor making everything in the kitchen area bounce around and fall over. The man ends up getting knocked down by falling dishes and pots. He continues to yell in fright fearing for his life as this huge giant continues to walk towards him. When Madison finally stands above the rubble, he pushes the mountain of debris off of his scared buddy and picks him up. The man is actually fairly large, not muscled but rather husky. He is wearing a dirty tank top and a pair of shorts that do little to cover up most of his crotch. He tries to punch Madison in the face but ends up doing very little damage to him and may have hurt himself. He grabs his hand and groans feeling the pain go up his arm. The huge giant restrains him and looks him straight in the eyes. The man seems really distracted now as he tries to figure out who this might be. ‘Wait? You look vaguely familiar. *stares at Madison’s mountainous pecs and leaky nipples* You…..are leaking…..but you are not…..*seems really distraught*…..I don’t understand…..’ Madison smiles and forces the man’s face into his huge pecs. The man feels the muscles pressing against his face and tries to resist. He can’t breathe in fact which makes the giant pull him away from them. The man gasps several times before staring up at Madison’s face again. The giant looks down at him and gives him an ultimatum. ‘Galen…..*talks in a softer tone*…..I’m Madison remember? Well, I don’t look the same exactly but I’m still your pal Madison. *smiles before placing Galen in front of his engorged nipples* I need you to do something for me buddy. Will you suck all of the milk out of my pecs for me please? I would try to myself, but I can’t seem to be able to reach them. *laughs*’ Galen’s eyes widen as Madison bounces both pecs spilling milk down his bloated gut. The small man writhes trying to get free but the giant just increases his grip which makes the little man grimace. Once again, Madison places the man’s face in front of his huge engorged hairy pecs. This time the man seems a little more receptive to his orders and opens his mouth to lick his swollen left nipple. He gets a few drops of milk on his tongue and moans tasting its sweet mixture. It isn’t long before he locks his lips on the nipple and guzzles down everything it makes. Madison feels the changes immediately taking hold in Galen as the man’s body quickly starts to grow. His legs and quads expand rapidly making the giant have to loosen his grip on him. He can hear Galen grunting as he moves over to Madison’s other swollen nipple and goes crazy draining it. The sensation makes the big man spray multiple jets of cum all over the kitchen. Galen’s back muscles are doubling up on themselves as his tank is unable to compete with the incredible mass now forming on his frame. It completely disintegrates in seconds as his arms, pecs, and gut grow at the same time. He grips the giant with his growing hands as he continues expanding wider feeling his spine crack and lengthen feeling himself getting taller to accommodate the additional size. ‘MORE! *shorts rip off* MORE! *ass flares out and cock thickens* MMMMMM…..*drains Madison’s right nipple* AHHHH! *looks down at his swollen roidgut and punches it* Oh my gawd, my pecs are so sensitive. *feels them and realizes that they are also filling up with milk* OHHH SHIT…..I am going to cum so much……*blasts his volcano all over Madison which draws several moans from the big guy* MMMMM……*moves down to swallow his master’s cock and works it over*’ Madison humps his mouth for several minutes before he shoots his huge load down Galen’s throat. The now equally large hairy beast pulls his master’s cock out of his mouth and stands up to look at him face to face. They grin at each other and start rubbing their roidguts together before they decide to start wrestling around destroying everything in the kitchen area. Eventually they end up going through another wall and landing on the ground out into the main lobby. The two sweaty monsters finally take a breather before Madison moves down to delicately suck on Galen’s mammoth blond haired pecs. The sensation makes the newly christened giant roar in delight as his cock erupts each time Madison slurps the milk out of his pecs. It gets to the point where the master giant alternates between sucking Galen’s cock and sucking on his huge nipples. ‘Ohh buddy, you taste so much better than Russell. I could do this for hours and hours if I could. *realizes that he is making Galen lose consciousness and stops* Whoops, I will let up on you pal.’ Galen sits up once Madison quits servicing him. The blond haired giant looks him in the eyes and gives him a deep kiss on the lips which is returned by the darker haired behemoth. He realizes that Galen does have feelings for him as he leans against him. They pet each other’s bodies for a few moments before they start talking again. ‘So…..when did this happen to you Madison? I am guessing that this happened not too long ago since I just saw you a couple of days ago. Have you destroyed the rest of the building yet? *laughs in his new baritone*’ ‘Well….*rolls his eyes* not the whole building, but the third floor is pretty ransacked. I am not the only one in this condition in case you were wondering.’ Galen grins before he scoots over to a nearby wall to pick himself up. He then walks back over to Madison to help him up. They start walking down the main lobby together still talking. ‘I am anxious to know who else you have changed Madison. I’m not sure I have ever met this Russell you are talking about.’ ‘Ahh, he is this incredibly sexy redhead. Changing him was fun, but not quite as fun as it was changing you.’ Galen reaches over to plant another kiss on Madison’s lips before pounding on the big guy’s pecs making milk cascade down his chest again. The dark haired giant does the same to Galen which starts another sequence of spraying each other with milk. Galen’s sensitivity in his pecs ultimately is also leading to faster production of sperm as well as Madison is finding out. He gives the blond giant a few sucks on his huge tool and gulps down the thick juices he produces. Once he is done drinking his white flood, he gets back up on his feet to answer another question Galen asks him. ‘So the growth stops once I suck the milk out the first time Madison?’ ‘It appears that is true pal. I hope we can figure out a way around this though since we will probably run out of converts eventually.’ The two behemoths begin searching for Russell who is looking for someone himself to convert.

Below is a new story line. I am a whore for feedback. Please let me know if it pushes any buttons. -ragman Warning: This fantasy story is for adults only. You must be 21 years old to continue. Adult content may include nudity, mature relationships, violence, and extreme muscles and strength. All characters are over the age of eighteen. Machu Man – Part 1 By ragman I was struggling for breath in the altitude, as we approached Machu Picchu. The scenery was breathtaking, as well as the thin air. I was never an athlete, just average. I seemed to excel in academics, and had found mathematics a rewarding endeavor. I had just graduated and was hired to teach at our state university in the fall. So I thought I would take advantage of a student summer tour while I still had a student ID. The mystery of Machu Picchu, how a town could have been built on top of a mountain, out of huge stone boulders, was fascinating to me. The low cost of the student tour to this world landmark, made it something I couldn’t pass up. I meandered around the city on top of a mountain. The size of the stone slabs that made up much of the structure was enormous. How blocks of granite the size of cars were fashioned and hoisted in place was incredible. But more amazing was how tightly the stone slabs fit, how exactly, without mortar to seal them. How could primitive man manage to transport hundreds of tons of solid stone to the top of a mountain and then, with no metal tools or machines, build a city where every stone is precisely placed with perfectly tight seams requiring no mortar? My scientific brain was trying to imagine how such a feat could be accomplished. It seemed truly impossible. My head was filled with incredulousness as I was fumbling with my camera, trying to capture the impossible beauty of our three dimensional world on a two dimensional digital image, when I tripped and dropped my camera. It fell off the path and down the mountainside, but came to rest on a shelf of rock about six feet below the path. I was pissed at my clumsiness, and overreacted to the mishap. Without concern I shimmied over the path down to the ledge to retrieve my camera. It wasn’t until I was standing on the ledge that it occurred to me that I was in a dangerous spot, trusting on the ledge alone. I reached down cautiously to get my camera, putting it in my sweatshirt pouch. As I bent back up, I noticed a glimmer coming from a fairly deep crack in the rock. It looked like a metal sheen. I carefully dug around the object, until it came free. It was a small earthen jar, sealed with a gold top, the reason for the gleam. I put the jar in my sweatshirt pouch. By that time, my disappearance over the edge of the path had caused the guide and others to come to my aid. They helped me climb back up on the path, though I could have managed by myself. I assured them I was fine and showed them the camera I retrieved. I decided not to mention the jar. I don’t know why, I guess I didn’t want to share it yet. We continued the tour of the city. Beautiful stone and rock construction, with running water viaducts, and mysterious obelisks. The scale of the dwelling was awesome, suspended on top of the world. My senses were overloaded with the majesty and the architectural undertaking it took to build it. I was enthralled with beautiful images the entire bus ride back to our lodging, having forgotten about the small jar in my sweatshirt, now in my pack. We barely had time to grab a bite to eat and pack our bags before heading back to the airport for the journey home. ****************** I was moving into my new place just off campus, looking forward to starting my mathematics teaching career. I didn’t have that much to move in, being a recent student with not a lot of furniture or belongings. So, I had rented a furnished townhouse, and was unpacking the last of my stuff. Ah, the knapsack from the Machu Picchu trip, I had quickly packed it when leaving South America, and hadn’t needed the stuff in it, my sweatshirt included. I unstuffed the fleece and felt something in the pouch. The little jar, of course, I had forgotten. I took it out of the pouch and examined it more closely. There were some markings on it. On the face of the small jar was etched a figure, but it was out of proportion somehow, almost fat, but different. And the gold top had a character inscribed, also. It looked like an “8”. My curiosity soon led me to wonder about the contents. I tried to uncork the top, but I couldn’t get the gold stop to budge. I finally decided to try my mom’s remedy and put the top under hot water for a few seconds. I tried again, and the top shifted slightly. I mustered all the strength in my thumbs and jockeyed the stopper out of the neck of the jar. The final millimeter gave with a “Pooh”. A dense cloud of blue gas escaped from the bottle and swirled around in front of me, condensing into a human form. The gases solidified and became solid. Before me stood a young man. He was about six feet tall, my height, with golden hair and blue eyes. His face was young, I’d say, seventeen or eighteen, with tanned skin. He wore only a piece of what looked like leather, in a loin cloth fashion, that covered his man-ness. He was svelte and muscular, like a fitness model, with wonderful proportions. “You have summoned me to serve you, Master,” he spoke with soft resonance. “How can I please you?” “Who are you? Why are you here?” I babbled. “I am yours. You hold the vessel of my control. I am here to obey your every command. You decide my purpose and identity. I will become your perfect companion.” I was stunned to say the least. This couldn’t really be happening, could it? A genie from a bottle, no less. What should I do next? “Please tell me how to begin. I am at a loss for what to say,” I requested. “I am sorry I have caused you distress. I will try to ease your discomfort.” The teenage Apollo approached me and embraced me gently. His touch was warm and enveloping. He exuded confidence and trustworthiness. My defenses were slowly lowering as he moved his strong hands over my body in a caress. “Does that make you less tense, Master?” he asked. “I have many ways to give you pleasure, that you will learn to command. My body can do things no one else could dream of, and you get to do the dreaming.” “I don’t understand,” I replied. “You will just do whatever I ask you to do?” “Yes, Master.” “With what kind of limits?” I added. “Do I just get three wishes?” I asked like a fool. “I have no limits, Master. You can command me to do anything.” “What are we talking about here?” I pondered. “What do you mean you can do anything” “I have the power of the galaxy in my body, the strength of a millions suns. I can do any feat of strength you can imagine, I have inconceivable control of every muscle of my body.” “This is too much to believe,” I struggled. “I need to take a minute.” Perhaps this is a good time to mention that I have always been turned on by muscles, on men or women, but especially men. I have found the muscled male body to be a work of magnificent sculpture, of muscle art. I have curbed or mitigated my private fantasies, relying on internet sites for titillation and amusement, always secretly wanting a muscle mate, to dote on and worship, who would protect me and make my wishes come true. What was standing before me fulfilled a fantasy of my lifetime. “I noticed you were beginning to rub me back, when we embraced. Did you like the feel of my body?” “You are beautifully handsome, and I have a weakness for big, strong muscles,” I was surprised to hear myself admit that to a genie. “You are captivating, and intriguing.” “So if my muscles were bigger, that would please you more?” “Probably,” I nodded. “I haven’t had the opportunity to find out.” “How about this, Master?” The genie tensed his muscles. He expanded outward with the flex, bulging and rippling with growing muscles until he looked like a teenage bodybuilder. “Whoa, that’s amazing how you can flex your muscles that big. It makes me want to feel how hard you are now, how strong you have flexed.” The muscled teen stepped to me and offered his flexed biceps for me to explore. He grabbed my hand gently and placed it on top of the peaked split of his 20 inch arm. It was hard, and warm and alive. He flexed a bit harder and forced my fingers apart with his bulging muscle. “This arm is all yours, Master. You can command it to grow and strengthen with the power of thunderheads, or order it to flex to the ceiling or higher.” I was awestruck with the possibilities of his power. With his confidence and demeanor, muscles and charisma, he was the perfect fulfillment of my wildest fantasies. “Does my demonstration please you, Master?” he asked hoping for approval. “I’ve never been more pleased,” I managed to mutter. “But, I think it’s time for you to call me Mike, instead of Master. That’s my name.” “Very well, Mike. You are unlike the others. You are kind. Thank you for allowing me to please you with my strength. Nothing gives ME more pleasure than using my immense strength and powers to benefit those with good hearts. My vessel has not always been in possession by those who have benevolent thoughts. Regardless, I must obey the commands of my owner, it is my purpose.” “When were you last released from your vessel?” I asked, trying to assimilate what I was hearing. “My last task was building a city of stone on top of a mountain.” “Machu Picchu?” I asked incredulously. “You built it single handedly?” “No, Mike. I built it with both hands, and the rest of my powerful body.” Obviously, he was going to answer me literally. “So, you’ve been in the jar for all this time?” “You are my first Master since Machu Picchu, as you call it.” “Whoa, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do,” I marveled. “It’s been a few years since you’ve been out of your vessel.” “It pleases me that you will be my Master, Mike. I will learn all there is to know so that I can serve you,” he said. “Uh,…. OK.” I responded with fascination. “Can we talk a little more about how this works? I’m not sure I get what’s going on.” “Of course, Mike. Whatever you wish.” he said obediently. “That’s what I mean. Do you just follow me around and do stuff for me?” I was confused. “I’ve got a lot of questions.” “I am here to do whatever you ask of me, Mike. In the past I have been the servant of Kings, and tyrants, alike. I can build you a monument, defeat your enemies, or serve your every physical desire.” “So you have no desires of your own?” I asked. “Only to please you, Mike,” he said humbly. This was going in circles, so I decided to change the subject to everyday matters. “So, where do you sleep? Do you eat?” Stuff like that. He explained his ability to adapt and fit in with humanity. He said he didn’t require food or water or sleep, but, he could consume anything I wanted him to, literally. He told me some of his masters kept him in his vessel while they slept, for fear he would escape, which he could not, or to keep him secret. I asked him if he minded being in the vessel. “It is what my masters’ wished,” he responded, not understanding the meaning of the question. I still couldn’t believe what was happening. I just stared at the loincloth-clad Adonis before me. He started to look around. “How long have I been in my vessel? Where are we Master Mike?” he inquired. “Is this your dwelling?” “Wow, I didn’t think about how many questions you would have, I was so lost in my own wonderment,” I apologized. “Where shall we start?” “Start wherever you wish to begin,” he obediently replied. I rolled my eyes at the repetition of his acquiescence. “Can we begin with you not being so subservient? I’d like you to be a friend, not a slave.” He responded with confusion, “I’ve never had friend, nor do I know how to be one. Would you please teach me, Mast…eh…, Mike, my f-r-i-e-n-d?” he asked sheepishly. “I’d love to, Friend!” I added eagerly. I moved to him and put my arm around his sculpted shoulder and gently squeezed. He was warm and hard and responded with his arm on my shoulder. It was heavier than I expected. “Well, to answer your first question, it’s the year 2014,” I began. “And you are a long way from Machu Picchu.” ******************* I had a few days before I started work, so we were able to spend some time together, getting to know each other, or rather me learning about his abilities, and Machu Man, learning about what pleased me. The experience was mind blowing. I asked for him to demonstrate his true strength. He told me that was not possible, because he had found no limits. I caught my breath, and tried to comprehend what that meant. He picked up an empty wine bottle and placed it between his pectorals. He flexed his chest and his cleavage grew to almost surround the bottle. Then he flexed harder and I heard glass shatter, but he contained the fragments within his cleavage. Next he began flexing each pec and grinding up the glass between them. I could see the pieces get smaller and smaller until the mixture was like fine glass cement. Then Machu Man flexed harder and his pecs began to heat up. He poured on the power and soon the glass dust was a molten blob of glass that continued to get hotter with the enormous pressure and heat he was generating with his chest muscles. The blob began to boil between his pecs, and evaporate in a cloud of silica steam that was thousands of degrees hot. What happened next was my first observation of his true nature. He inhaled the superhot glass steam through his nostrils, like he was smelling roses. After a few seconds the entire glass blob was reduced to steam, by the heat of his muscle pressure, and inhaled completely. I was speechless. “That is one way I fashioned the huge stone blocks of Machu Picchu so they would fit perfectly together,” he commented. I’d soften the side of a stone block by hugging it real hot. Then when I placed it, the stone would flow like lava and seal with the stone next to it.” I heard what he was saying, but still couldn’t fathom the reality. “I’d pile three or four huge boulders on top of each other and carry them up the mountain balanced on one hand, like a waiter holding a tray.” Machu Man held his right hand up with the palm facing up to demonstrate the position. The movement of his arm caused his biceps and deltoids to flex into a perfect display of hard, ripped muscles, with the biceps full and long in their 22-inch flex. He then pumped his arm up and down as if he were lifting a mountain of boulders. His triceps expanded into a boulder of muscle itself as he mimicked a one-arm press. He seemed to notice my fixation with his flexing, enjoying my reaction. “Then I’d start piling them up, building a wall or arch,” he continued to mime, as he would spread his arms wide to pretend lifting a huge block of stone. His pantomime was extraordinary. His chest and arms exploded with striated muscle fibers as he appeared to lift a huge weight before him. Then things got pretty freaky. “Then I would expand my chest really big like this,” he moaned. “Unnnmmpphh.” His perfect pectorals expanded hugely, filling in the space between his outstretched hands, which must have been 6-feet apart. “Then I would flex my muscle fibers really hot, like I did with the wine bottle.” Suddenly the room temperature spiked from the heat of his pectorals as he demonstrated his power. “Oops, too hot for indoors. But, you get the idea,” he continued his skit. “So I’d soften the entire side of a huge block of stone with my enormous chest, then place it where I wanted, and gently press the stone. The softened face would mold perfectly to fit tightly.” As Machu Man concluded his description of boulder masonry, he seemed to misinterpret my enthrallment. “Have I displeased you Master Mike?” he asked worriedly. “I thought you might enjoy my tale. You haven’t said much.” After regaining my composure some, I tried to respond. “Y... you made the city by melting the stone faces with your pecs?” I finally muttered. “Yes, Mike. That is one of the methods I used to make the stones fit perfectly. It only took a fraction of my strength and power to build Machu Picchu. Stone is easily broken and melted with enough pressure. And these muscles can exert more than enough pressure.” Machu Man raised his arms and brought them down into a double biceps pose. This time, with his hands in the classic position, his biceps erupted into twin Matterhorns of peaked spendor, easily eclipsing 27-inches. My junk could take no more. My erection was painfully confined by my pants, but clearly visible. He smiled and pumped another 2 inches out of his peaked muscle mass, then waited for my reaction. I moaned and pumped ejaculate out of my tented member, staining my pants. “I was worried that my muscle story had disturbed you. I am grateful that you seem to be pleased,” Machu Man spoke softly. “I want very much to please you.” ‘I have never heard of a mason that melted his stone for mortar,” I marveled. “I don’t think anyone has called me a mason before,” he replied. “You know, ‘Mason’ would be a good name for you. It’s kinda clever, if I do say so myself, and it sounds strong, with some distinction.” I was pleased with my suggestion. “What do you think about me calling you Mason?” Machu Man started to respond as usual, “If that is wha…… I mean,… I like …Mason. I can identify with the name.” “Awesome,” I agreed. “Awesome?” Mason questioned. “It’s a current slang expression than means ‘better than ever, great, or super good’,” I tried to explain. “I think being your friend will be awesome, Mike,” he smiled. I melted. After I composed myself I began again. “There is so much to teach someone who has been away for 900 years. So much history, so many new inventions, such a different way of life than you know of. We have machines and tools, electricity and nuclear power…. We’ve even traveled to the moon.” Mason gazed around the room as I spoke and took in everything. He didn’t seem to be overwhelmed by it all, indeed, he seemed to soak it all in. “You need to teach me how to operate all these devices,” he remarked as he scoped the TV, computer, refrigerator, oven, and all the furniture. “I will, Mason. You’ll be amazed with all things in this modern world. But, first, I think we need to deal with your appearance.” “Oh?” he wondered. “Do I need to add more muscle to please you, like this?” He stood more erect and flexed a bit all over, causing him to expand his musculature to a pro bodybuilder size. It was breathtakingly amazing how he could grow at will like that. After I stopped gasping, I said, “My god! That’s not what I meant, but you are magnificent. I was talking about your loin cloth. I don’t think you’ll fit in wearing only a piece of hide. We need to put modern clothes on you. Or at least some shorts that make you more presentable.” I was thinking how I didn’t want to cover up his upper body. “OK, Mike. I’ll take this off” Before I knew what was happening, Mason reached for his waist strap, which was made of heavy rawhide, and easily tore it apart, causing his loin cloth to drop to the ground. There in my townhouse stood naked perfection. I stood, waveringly, as I took in his splendor. He was perfect. His proportions were perfect. His muscle definition was perfect. His skin seemed more perfect than I noticed before. His eyes were bluer than I remembered and his golden hair was perfectly silken. And his manhood was…perfect. In its relaxed state his cock hung with throbbing veins snaking around its perfect 8-inch length. His two testes filled his perfectly sized sac and exuded power. Mason stood there with no embarrassment, naïvely actually, and waited for his next instruction. “What should I wear, Mike?” broke the silence. “Uh, er…. Why don’t you try a pair of my undershorts?” I managed to answer. “Here, try these on. They are stretchy and fit snuggly. Then put on these cargo shorts. The legs are bigger so they should fit you better.” “Thanks, Mike. It’s cool that we both are about the same size, when I’m not flexing much.” ‘Not flexing much’? He seemed pretty big to me. How big could he flex? ***************** Finally, I had to report to work. I told Mason he should watch TV, or surf the net, to learn about what was happening in this era. He sat down and turned on the tube. When I got home he was in the same position, with the TV on a news channel and the computer screen flashing pages at an astounding rate. “Have you been watching that all day?” I asked. “That was your command, Master Mike. Though I must say, much of this news is repetitive and opinionated.” That sounded very astute. “I learned how to manipulate the computer so it would show several pages at one time. And scroll faster than it was set up to. So I was able to read all of Wikipedia and all the books in the Library of Congress while you were at work. Mankind has made many advances, but still seems to allow suffering at the hands of religious tyrants or greedy tycoons.” I heard what he said, noticed the computer flashing multiple pages a second, and tried to comprehend his enormous abilities. “There seems to be a variety of disasters around the globe, earthquakes, floods, wars, killings. Do you wish me to stop them?” he asked, matter-of-factly. “You have the strength and power to stop earthquakes?” I was amazed at the concept. “If you command me, Mike.” “I don’t want the responsibility to decide who gets saved, and who doesn’t. And what unintended consequences might result from messing with Mother Nature. Frankly, I was enjoying your company. This is a new town, and a new job for me. It’s kind of stressful dealing with it all.” Not to mention pondering the presence of a god, which I didn’t. “I was wishing you would be my friend, someone I can count on, for support and comfort.” “Of course, Mike. Let me support and comfort you now.” Mason picked me up effortlessly in his muscled arms and held me close. His warm, throbbing body was electrifying. I felt a surge of energy and well-being that made me shiver. “What would friends do after a day at work?” Mason asked. His question caught me off guard. “I guess, they would head to a game, or go get a drink.” “Game? That sounds interesting. What games do you play?” “Oh, I like to play most sports, I just never had the drive to work that hard. I think there’s a baseball game tonight, at the college. Do you want to go?” “If that is your desire, Master Mike.” I flinched a bit. ************************* We headed to our seats in the bleachers. I bought us each a couple of hot dogs and a beer, to teach Mason the proper way to watch sports. He watched me bite into my dog and enjoy the fatty delicacy. I watched him take the entire hot dog, put it in his mouth, and suck it down his throat in one piece. “You might want to chew your food before you swallow it whole, when you’re in public,” I suggested. “Of course, Mike.” He bit off a hunk of his other dog, chewed once and swallowed. “Please don’t waste your money on food for me. I don’t require it.” “OK,” I agreed. “Let me tell you about the rules of baseball.” I hadn’t tried to tell someone about baseball, that hadn’t seen a game before. It’s not that easy to explain. It is truly a unique game. There are no time limits, a team can overcome a seemingly insurmountable lead in the last inning and win. Plays that count are sometimes out of bounds, like foul flies. And other oddities of the game. Mason seemed to learn very quickly. In the bottom of the ninth, our team needed three runs to wins. We had two runners on, with the winning run at the plate, and two outs. The batter swung and popped it up in the infield. “Damn, I wish he coulda hit a home run, out here in the bleachers,” I unknowingly spoke. “As you wish, Mike.” Mason pursed his lips and sucked in like a tornado. The ball reached the top of its arc and was sucked towards the bleachers, caught in the vacuum of Mason’s breath. Once the trajectory was altered and the ball was headed our way, he stopped inhaling and I watched the ball fall from the sky into his outstretched hand. The home crowd went wild with the homerun, the other team was baffled by an easy out turning into a loss. “Shit, did you do that?” I said staring at the ball in Mason’s hand. “It is what you wished,” he said, proudly handing me the ball. I needed to be careful what I casually ‘wished’ for. “Do you want to go to the bar, like friends?” he asked. “Yeah, that would be great,” I answered, holding the ball in my hand, still wondering how he did that. “Except, you don’t have any ID. You can’t get in without ID,” I stated. “I have been smuggled into places in the past, Mike,” Mason said. “I can return to my vessel and you can carry me in your pocket. Once inside, you can release me where it’s safe.” Huh, that sounded possible. We headed back to my place to get his vessel. ************************** I was curious. “Tell me more about how you and this jar work.” “Of course, Mike. My vessel holds the essence of my power. He, who possesses it, possesses me.” “But, it looks quite fragile, like it could break. What happens to you if your vessel is damaged?” I asked. Mason was lost in thought. “I have not been asked that question before. If my vessel were destroyed, I would have no Master to serve. I would have no purpose.” “While I’m your ‘master’, do you automatically protect and save me, or do I have to wish for every rescue, specifically?” I was somewhat embarrassed that my analytical, mathematical mind was asking such lame questions. “When I take human form out of the vessel, it is my purpose to see no harm comes to you, my Master, as I fulfill your desires,” Mason stated. “Do you still wish to go to the bar, like friends?” His frank honesty, his unbelievable power, combined with his manly tenderness, all wrapped up in a six foot tall gorgeously muscled body, was making me forget about the rest of the world. “Or should I just entertain and please you here?” he asked willingly bouncing his pecs. “My desires to please you are greater than for any other master. I feel stronger, more alive, more powerful with you as my Master, Mike. Thank you for caring about me. No one has ever cared about me before.” “Hey, that’s what friends do. They care for and look out for each other,” I said, putting my arm around his muscled shoulders. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have found you as a friend. Who else has a friend that can suck a pop-up into the bleachers for a winning home run?” “Did you like that,” he grinned. “I thought you might. I know you didn’t REALLY wish for it, but it IS what you said.” “Why, you son-of-a-gun,” I joshed, punching him too hard in the gut, a mistake that gave me a sore hand. “You even have a sense of humor. I love it.” Mason looked at me softly with a smile. “OK, here’s my real wish, all the time, while we’re friends. I wish you would show your sense of humor often, and I wish you would express your views freely. I don’t want a sycophant for a friend.” “OK, I’ll just be your lover.” I was silenced. “Ha-ha. My second joke,” his laugh was forced. My face was flushed. He saw my reaction. “I’m sorry, I see I may have offended you, my friend,” he spoke with sincerity. “My past owners have often ordered me to perform for them, as well as win wars. I am inexperienced with speaking freely, with humor. I was trying to amuse you. Please forgive me.” He lowered his head in shame. “Hey, come here. I love you, bro. Now that the shock is over, that WAS pretty funny.” I gave Mason a hug. He seemed to be relieved. “So, I know what will make you feel better, Mason,“ I tried to change the tone. “I wish you would pose and flex and turn yourself into the most beautiful muscular specimen on the planet, just for me.” Mason’s eyes lit up, even sparkled, as his posture regained his confidence. “Nothing would give me more satisfaction. Would you please give me a measurement to work from?” he asked with anticipation. “How about 30 inch biceps,” I responded, finally understanding the question. “Ah, probably the upper limit of most men. And a most wonderfully aesthetic size, allowing for beautiful symmetry on my six foot frame.” Mason took off the clothes he was wearing, my shirt and pants, leaving my stretchy boxers. It was convenient that he could wear my size, so we were able to avoid shopping for him, while my budget was tight. I took a comfortable seat on the couch. Mason stood just a few feet before me. “Thank you for asking me to pose for you. Masters of yore did not appreciate my body as an object of worship, with large bulging muscles. They were intimidated with how I could flex my muscles to huge proportions, making them feel insignificant and insecure. They always feared me.” He continued with praise, “You are different. You have a desire, a fascination for seeing my muscles flexed bigger than anyone has wanted me to flex before. Thank you for liberating me with your desires, Mike. I will do my best to please you.” Wow, please me he did. He began with kind of a dance, that was flowing and sensual. His tightly muscled physique was undulated, and defined. Wonderfully sharp and articulated muscle fibers appeared on his lean body. Then his muscles began to grow. His muscle fibers split and bulged anew, adding inches of hard, vascular, teen muscle to his youthful bodybuilder frame. He started to add a second of ‘freeze’ to his rhythmical movements, stopping to flex a pose. Each pose he flexed, got bigger and more defined. His calves mushroomed to 27 inches of diamond hard, angular, vascular, throbbing, double cantaloupes of snarled steel muscle fibers. The tear drop muscles over his knee looked like two fifty pound bags of cement, that would churn into striated ridges of muscles when he flexed, while the rest of his quad exploded with huge cables of criss-crossing sinew reaching at least 58 inches, each. As his routine continued, he would turn around and show all sides of his amazingly muscled body. His bulbous strips of gluteus muscles, his mogul mountain of hamstrings, all stood out with deep crevasses defining each muscle. His two lower back, spinal cables were thickly twisted muscle strands that could hold a suspension bridge aloft, growing even larger and more rippled as they moved up along his spine. His lats flared out in slabs of thick wings, with individual muscle ‘fingers’ squeezing out of the edges of his wide ‘v’ shape, that fought for space with his ballooning triceps. His traps were casings of bulging sausage that came up to his ears. I was having a hard time absorbing everything I was seeing. The absolutely stunning musculature before me, had not been seen by a human before. I felt inadequate, yet in a way, somewhat responsible for the emergence of his new existence. I could only stare and try to comprehend his power, his strength, all that he was surrendering to me to fulfill my desires. He kept dancing and posing, turning and flexing. I witnessed the most intricate and condensed display of abdominal muscle in the world, within a waist that only measured about 28 inches. The narrowness of his waist sharply contrasted the slabs of pectorals and lats that made up his 76 inch chest measurement. He raised his arms and flexed a double biceps pose. The caps of his massive shoulders fought for space between his head and biceps. The bowling pins of his forearms were 22 inches at least. And crowning the statue of muscle perfection, were two multi-headed monoliths of might, measuring 30 inches around. “Please don’t move for a moment,” I managed to whisper. I needed more time to take him all in, to force myself to breathe. Mason smiled at me and tensed a bit more, causing every muscle fiber to harden to steel, giving his body a sheen. I don’t think I was able to blink for over a minute. “May I move now, Mike?” Mason’s voice shocked me to the present. I managed to nod. He relaxed his flex and sat down next to me, putting his massive arm around me, pulling me to the cavern that was formed by his chest, lats and arm. “I am grateful that you found my vessel, Mike. I have never had a master that wanted me as a friend, like you. It is a very rewarding experience. You have opened my being to new experiences, given me new levels of awareness, released….feelings. I don’t believe I’ve had feelings before. I wish you would help me understand them,… friend.” He sounded like a confused teenager, genuinely asking for my help. “Of course, my Master,” I said, reversing roles. “That’s what friends are for.” *******************************

I was on a roll so I made another tiny chapter. Sorry they are so small but it seems that it's easier to work with and post them. Close Encounter Part 3: Evolution "Sir, you're holding me." Ben said sofly. Sir looked at Ben with no real reaction other than a raised eye. "It seems I am. Should I not be?" "Oh no, no! I love it. But I just wonder what made you do it?" Ben asked turning to face Sir full on resting his head on the alien's huge pectoral. Sir was briefly wordless for a minute as he contemplated his action before speaking. "I don't know... I just did. It felt right." Ben smiled. "I'm glad it felt right to you." Both of them turned back to look at the ceiling for no reason than to just lay there against each other for a few minutes. "For some reason, I feel connected to you." Sir spoke out loud. "It may be the experiment but I'm not sure." "Well, we share DNA now. That may be the reason" Ben replied but refrained from speaking his thought of "I hope it's not just that but something more." "It might be." Sir guessed in response. Ben did a double take. "Did you just hear my thoughts?" Ben asked lifting his head off of Sir which caused Sir to lift himself on his elbows. "Did you not just speak it?" Sir asked. "I heard you plainly." "No, I thought it. I never said it out loud." Ben replied with a half smile before putting his hand to his head. "Are you okay? I sense there is something wrong." Sir asked, his eyes widening a bit showing his concern. "No, I'm okay. I guess that bout of wild sex took a lot out of me. Just a small headache..." Ben replied quickly. "I just need to lie down..." Ben got up quickly but wobbled causing Sir to jump up with an amazing speed to catch him. "Wow! That was some..." Ben began to clutch his head his body slowly sinking to the floor. "Ben! Are you okay?" Sir's voice resonated through the room joined with other voices and sounds. Ben began to hear it bounce around in his head like an echo chamber. "I can't hear you Sir. It's so loud." Ben muttered going into a delirium. Sir probed Ben's mind to see if he could find the answer but was soon hearing a din of static. The static sound was so loud and so sudden that Sir almost dropped Ben clutching his own head. Sir managed to disconnect himself from probing Ben's mind, picked him up, and placed him on the bed. Sir began to feel Ben's body to check for any signs of other problems. Ben's eyes shut hard suddenly and his back arched. Sir felt the muscles in Ben suddenly tense up and bulge beyond their original size. Sir bent down over Ben and looked directly at Ben's face while he put his hands to both sides of his head. "Open your eyes, Ben." Sir said out loud. Ben reacted with a dramatic shift as his body suddenly started to writhe and bulge. Ben's body began to bend and twist as his muscles grew larger. Sir opened up the mind link again. "OPEN YOUR EYES!" Sir commanded inside Ben's head as the static seared through his own mind. Ben screamed and his eyes shot open wide revealing two black orbs much like Sir's. Ben's body exploded with muscle mass as he continued in his tranformation busting through his clothing. Ben's arms blew out of the sleeves. His back tore his shirt as his lats busted out the sides. Ben's legs flexed and the fabric made a loud crack as his legs bulged out the seams. Ben's cock bulged further and furher out almost a foot before it also burst through, steel hard and throbbing angrily. Sir pushed his mind further into the static staring intently into his eyes. "Ben! Look at me. You need to focus on me. You must calm your mind. What you are hearing is all the interference of all the frequencies that I am capable of hearing." Ben was still writhing but his eyes were now locked with Sir's. Sir searched his surrounding frequencies to find something constant and steady. A ticking clock started to sound off quietly but distinctly in the static. Sir increased it's volume in his head. "Focus on the clock Ben. Hear it ticking. Focus on it." Sir commanded in Ben's head. "Think of nothing else, let the ticking be the only sound you hear." The static began to clear with the exception of the ticking clock. Sir's trick was working. "Can you hear me Ben?" Sir spoke through the ticking. Ben nodded and his body begain to calm itself. "Good. Keep focusing on the ticking and my voice." The static continued to decrease to a barely audible level. Ben was breathing hard and his eyes were less wide open. Sir released his hands from Ben's head and moved back looking at the result of the transformation. "What just happened?" Ben croaked finding his voice again. "A transformation." Sir replied now running his hands clinically up and down Ben's body. "I feel so heavy." Ben panted attempting to lift his arms. As Ben did so, he looked down at them and saw how much they changed. "Sir! I'm HUGE!" Ben looked at Sir with his wide opal eyes and smiled big. "It looks like you became a human copy of me." Sir said as he looked at Ben up and down. "You feel okay other than being heavy?" Ben's body suddenly felt charged with energy and he suddenly sat up nearly colliding with Sir's head. "I feel amazing!" Ben nearly squealed as he looked his body over, flexing his arms and pecs. Ben watched as the muscles bulged and relaxed with each movement. "This is awesome!" Sir looked at Ben still concerned. "You hear any static in your head?" "No, it's all gone." Ben replied as his hands groped his arms tracing the bulging veins. Ben suddenly jumped out of the bed nearly knocking Sir over. "I have to see myself!"

This chapter is graphic in the sense of sexual activity. Sorry it's kinda short. There may be a little muscle growth in it. I hope you enjoy it. Part 2 -- Exploration -- Ben went back to sit on his bed, looking at Sir in awe as he took in the fact that he was talking to a real live alien who was somewhat close to a superhero in his opinion and was trapped here because he had used HIS DNA to enhance himself. "And my DNA helped you become this?" Ben asked. "Yes, it did." Sir responded back plainly. "Because of that, I owe you a debt of gratitude." "You owe me nothing, Sir. I am happy that my DNA has turned you into such a stud... err, mighty being for the good of your kind." Ben backtracked quickly but Sir's eyes widened a bit. "I know you use the term 'stud' when you refer to someone as appealing, especially in the sexual sense." Sir simply stated. Ben immediately turned red. "Uhm..." "Judging by your embarrassment I assume I am correct." Sir added. "Uhm..." Ben started to shake a bit. "I take that as a compliment since that is usually the intent of such a statement. Thank you." Sir said. Ben's anxiety deflating in a sigh of relief. It was then that the flood gates opened. "Do you know how really hot you look right now Sir?" Ben blurted out unabashedly. Now it was Sir's turn to jump back a bit in surprise but quickly recovered. "That is the second time you referred to me in a sexual context. I am appreciative of your positive review of me considering the circumstances I came from." Sir looked down at the floor for a brief period. Tears started to well up in his eyes. "I had friends, like you. I had a family and a life on my home planet like you. It's nothing like that now." Sir's voice suddenly took on a shaky crescendo of sorrow. "I am a giant monster to them!" Ben quickly got up and attempted to comfort the alien knowing that he is in the throes of another emotional fit. Ben also took the opportunity as a good excuse to touch Sir's massive muscled body again. "I'll be okay Sir, I think they'll come around soon enough after they have reviewed the good things you did." Ben soothed trying to say the right thing but feeling like he is gambling with his words. "You don't understand. The experiment changed my body so much to them that I became alien to them as well. My body in comparison was five times as tall as theirs and you know that I am many thousand times stronger than an entire army of them. My population reproduces asexually and by cloning. Cloning now more than ever since asexual reproduction results in many complications for the parent. Those complications are usually lethal." Sir divulged still on edge but calming down. Ben looked at the significant bulge at the alien's crotch. "And you have a cock and balls. Why is that a big deal?" "They had never seen them before. My colleagues were curious, but most found them disgusting, including the Elder Council." Sir was now calm but still looking morosely at the floor. "Then I had the urge." Ben's hands tightened against the muscled alien on the word "urge." "The urge?" Ben asked with a gulp. "Yes. What you would call masturbation." Sir said. Ben could see Sir's bulge begin to grow. "It was an amazing feeling. I touched it and sent waves up my torso and down my legs that I could never describe. It was an amazing feeling." Sir began, his head looking up and his hands slowly roaming his muscled body. "I felt my body, like I am now and felt power radiating from me, and my sex organ swelled as it is now." Ben looked down to see a significant bulge jutting out under the skimpy underwear like garment. Ben couldn't control himself any longer and began to run his hands down Sir's body tracing each massive muscle as he did. "My body was as big as their buildings, my arms were taller than my colleagues and possessed raw power thousands and thousands of times stronger than they could ever achieve." Sir continued looking up at the ceiling now. Sir began to rub his chest with one arm and flex the other into a mountainous peak of strength and power. Ben had reached Sir's abs and continued to slowly rub them up and down, breathing heavily. Ben looked down to see an enormous sex tool bulging up and outward under the fabric and it stretched thin pulling the waistband away from his chiseled stomach. "You were horny, Sir." Ben moaned as his hands continued to approach the alien's sex tool. "Yes, I was horny." Sir moaned with more lust than Ben and continued to escalate. Sir began to reach out to Ben almost by instinct and grope his body as well. "Do you trust me Sir?" Ben asked as he took his clothes off. His breath becoming heavy on the brink of the same sexual frenzy. "I am going to help you." "Yes, Ben. I trust you." Sir's body was slowly bucking the air. Ben reached down and gently cupped the massive alien balls. Sir suddenly threw his head back as his body went into a full body flex. Sir's muscles seeming to explode to twice thier original size. Ben moved his head down to lick the alien's giant bulge when the massive cock ripped free from it's confines on it's own, slapping the aliens torso with a loud thwack. The alien cock rested throbbing angrily against his chiseled abs almost reaching up to his heaving pecs. Sir moaned loudly, his cock drooling copious amounts of pre. Ben couldn't stand it any longer and attacked Sir's cock with his tongue which in turn caused the alien to arch back pushing his crotch to Ben's face harder. "OH! What is this? I feel sooooo...." Sir moaned even louder as he placed his hands on Ben's shoulders pushing him into his crotch more. Ben redoubled his efforts and continued to lick and suck before moving up and engulfing the massive alien cock head into his mouth. The heat of Ben's mouth increased Sir's frenzy. Sir bucked his hips uncontrollably against Ben's face. Ben kept up with little problem as he continued to grope the alien's balls. All of a sudden Sir arched back even further gripping Ben's head so hard it almost hurt as it was mashed against Sir. Sir's balls drew up dramatically and the throbbing shaft swelled. Ben knew it was going to be a massive load of cum. Sir screamed outside and inside Ben's head as his whole body seemed to flex harder. A torrent of alien cum rushed down Ben's throat. Each load was just as powerful as the next. Sir blew at least 20 volleys into Ben before coming down from his mind blowing climax. When Sir's grip finally loosened Ben pulled off and wiped his lips with his hand. Sir wobbled on his feet for a few steps before falling to the floor, his cock still spurting little amounts of cum on the way. "Sir! Are you okay?" Ben rushed over to the fallen alien, only to hear garbled words. Sir's body rose and fell dramatically with his heaving breaths. "Sir?" Sir turned his head to look up at Ben. A delirious smile crossed his face. Ben looked at the alien for a moment before breaking out into laughter. Sir lifted his head a bit and looked at Ben puzzled. Sir's action only caused Ben to laugh even harder. "I'm sorry Sir!" Ben breathed between laughs. "The look on your face..." Ben continued to laugh before making the delirious face back at Sir. "That's not what I looked like." Sir rebutted but starting to laugh a deep voiced chuckle himself. Ben made the face again before more laughter and Sir followed suit with another face. Ben laughter started to wain a bit as he got down on the floor and laid against the alien's solid heaving body. Sir looked back at Ben a little puzzled as to his action, but made no effort to resist. Ben turned his body to lay face up like Sir's, resting his head on the alien's near pillow sized arm. Both of them laid there looking at the ceiling, their heavy breaths lightened. It was when they were calmed down that Sir put his arm gently around Ben.

It was dark and warm in the suburban area as a gust of wind flew through. Everything was quiet. Not a sound was made, animal or otherwise. A single house among them all stood out from all the rest. It wasn’t because of the outer paint or the structure or even the people who lived there. Some kind of energy was emitting from the building as though something was different and unusual to the space. Inside, nothing was amiss. Each book shelf was tidied. The kitchen was well organized. The television was hushed. There was nothing in the room that had power or movement besides 3 things. One of the three things was a lamp lighting the room. The other ones were two men. These two man didn’t have much in common when appearance was concerned. One had dark hair, blue eyes, and was wearing a polo with jeans. The other had gray hair with green eyes and was wearing a coat and slacks that made him look like he came from a movie with old school detectives. His hat was in his lap out of courtesy as he spoke with the other man. What these two had in common, however, was that they both were well built. Each one could have been placed in a catalog for bodybuilder or male fitness as their bodies stretched their clothing well. Though both were aged quite well, they were in some quality shape. “So you did what to him?” the man with the gray hair and hat said to other man. “Hey! It’s not my fault! I was young!” The two laughed their hearty laughs, showing their time of aged friendship. Suddenly, the room gave a quick vibration that both felt. A vase fell off a shelf as the room quaked. The two men didn’t react as the room stopped as suddenly as it had started. “Looks like it’s started” said the gray haired man. “Remember when you quaked for the first time?” This question was received with a chuckle from the other man. “Of course, I shook the foundations! My dad had to fix our lights because they fell out!” They were both laughing until another vibration shook the ground and everything around them. Ironically, the living room lights dropped from the ceiling and crashed into a glass mess on the floor. It would have been an easy fix if some of the wiring connected to the lighting hadn’t come down with it. The two men looked at each other with grins. “Like father like son” ----- Upstairs, things were getting crazy as the room of Ellis Connor shook and bent unnaturally. The room’s space seemed to shift and reform around the boy on the bed. The teenager’s room seemed to pull and push as though it were breathing and then muddle as though it were mud. Still, Ellis couldn’t see it as he slept. The boy was completely unconscious in his deep sleep, his clothes and covers thrown away as his body had overheated. Ellis’s body was also shifting like the room but in a different way. His body was changing from its average, unsculpted frame to something crafted by angels. His once dark hair changed to an intense red. His face was still the same but his chin had become just a little more definite along the jaw. His chest pushed up and out some as new muscle formed down the torso. His shoulders broadened and his six tight cobblestone abs went down his stomach and remained hard like armor. Though the 18 year old was wearing some well fitting briefs, the term ‘well fitting’ changed when his waist suddenly condensed and then expanded a bit. His ass pushed out and forced his crotch up some with the more powerful muscles. His legs tightened and form 3 distinct muscles that could be clearly seen. His calves became more powerful and also lifted his legs up some as his feet stretched from a size 10 to a size 13. Just when it seemed to be over, Ellis’s chest and crotch grew some healthy body hair to match his newly red armpit hair. It seemed to be over until Ellis moved in his sleep. Something warm and strong was growing inside him. It was revealed to be his manhood as his cock hardened and finally tore his now poor, medium-sized briefs to shreds as it grew past its average 5 inches and stretched up to a forceful and proud 10. With that, everything came to halt as Ellis awoke with a start, his once brown eyes recolored in blue blue. His body was sweat covered as he looked around and then down to view his new body. Everything was tight and powerful looking as Ellis looked at his form. His cock was now dripping precum as he viewed the results of his sleep but he had no time to admire it all as his door flew open and a dark haired, middle aged and well built man walked in with a smile on his face. “DAD?!” “Congratulations on your first quake, son!” ----- This is really short but I swear it'll mean something soon!

Here is the first part, The Extreme Makeover: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2699-the-extreme-makeovermy-best-friends-party/ Groaning as he feels the liquids flowing through him, the big brute continues to push all of his weight down on the defenseless man trying to conjure up the growth from within him to commence. His breathing gets shallower as he gets closer to losing consciousness. Deveraux can sense it starting as he pulls his cock out of the motionless man’s mouth and grunts a few times before speaking again. ‘Yeah come on man! I want to feel it come out of you. FUCKING GROW MAN! Make me fucking cum without touching myself, I love watching and feeling hot muscle as it expands. You can’t stop it, it has to happen now or you won’t survive.’ Loud crunching sounds start coming from beneath Deveraux’s ass as Joe’s broken legs begin to forge together from their carnage. He cries out in agony as his body starts to repair itself before igniting an incredible growth process. More popping sounds emanate from the bones in his broken arms. Deveraux reaches down to grip them holding him in place. His cock throbs as it lightly dribbles precum onto him again. He looks Joe in the eyes and tries to keep him from panicking. ‘Look at me runt…..just focus your attention on my incredible body and let yourself go. You can’t stop it now because it is already changing who you are. *can feel Joe’s body trying to expand but is noticing some kind of interference* Stop resisting…..you are prolonging it if you try to fight. Let that motherfucking beast out of that puny body. I can feel it trying to get out. *Joe’s legs shake violently* LET GO MAN! Your legs are desperately trying to free themselves from this prison.’ ‘NOOOO, OH GAWD……*stretch*……PLEASE…..*legs are reacting as it moves into his crotch* NO! NO! NO! *balls bounce and begin inflating* ACK!’ Joe can feel his ballsac stretching to its limits trying to contain his growing testicles. He moans longingly feeling them filling with cum by his overactive prostate. The giant sitting on top of him can sense a difference finally coming over the helpless man. He lightly rubs his dripping cock on Joe’s chin and slowly grinds on his crotch with his huge glutes. The sensation from this makes the small man’s cock start growing and arches directly at Deveraux’s hole. The giant feels the man’s pants tenting as the growing penis continues swelling and lengthening. ‘OHH YEAH! You want to fuck me little man? Give me all you got then.’ Joe’s quads, hams, and calves start to widen outwards making Deveraux growl waiting for them to explode through the fabric of his pants. He can feel the little man’s growing pole ripping the fabric in his underwear and pants before it goes sailing up inside him making him roar in delight as he tenses his muscles and glutes feeling it rubbing his insides. Joe moans deeply watching the giant’s chest and arms flex and strain as the veins pulse and drip with perspiration. ‘FUCK ME MAN! Become the gawd you were always meant to be. *can feel Joe’s stomach inflating* YES! FUCKING GROW FOR ME! *sees the buttons straining to hold on* RIP THAT MOTHERFUCKER OPEN! *three buttons go flying as his growing stomach emerges* OHH FUCKING YEAH!’ Joe thrusts unconsciously inside the giant unable to really feel anything in his legs anymore. Deveraux can feel the growing man’s legs getting ready to burst through as the seams begin slowly ripping. He howls in laughter seeing the sheer power starting to take over Joe’s body. Joe’s feet are tearing their way out of his shoes as his thickening calves and ankles destroy his socks. His chest heaves up and down as his pecs start inflating which catches the eye of his eager partner. ‘OH MY GAWD MAN! You are really going to set me off…..destroy that fucking shirt and I will shower your muscles with tons of muscle building protein.’ ‘I……can’t……breathe……uhhh……*feels his pecs stretching and pulling on his undershirt underneath his jacket* ahhh…..*his nipples are now visible through the fabric*……so…..much……pressure.’ Deveraux squirts a stream of precum on top of Joe’s jacket and under his chin and neck. He moans loudly feeling Joe’s legs finally emerge through his pants as well as his throbbing horse cock which quickly destroys his underwear and exposes his tennis ball-sized testicles. The man’s round stomach is now forming a huge set of misshapen abdominals which are now rubbing against the behemoth’s ballsac massaging them over and over again and setting the goliath on fire as he reaches down and feels their incredible power against his fingers. The growing man’s undershirt rips finally as loud shredding noises echo throughout the elevator shaft. Joe’s shoulders, traps, and arms begin ripping their way through the fabric as Deveraux grunts loudly feeling the cum start to race into his cock. He sprays both emerging pectorals with his jizz as he looks Joseph directly in the eyes and can see the change in his demeanor. Instead of fear now, he is embracing the growth whole-heartedly as he opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out to swallow the jets of cum as they go down his throat. The load accelerates his growth as his clothing is no match for the bloated muscles now taking him over. He grunts feeling his back and lats busting numerous seams as they quickly break free. His pecs swell so fast that they make loud stretching noises. He moans loudly as his nipples double in size and tighten as the air hits them. His shoulders and traps continue growing as his arms begin looking like giant tree trunks. The roadmap of veins covers both arms and sit on top of what could be described as two cantaloupes. Deveraux barely finishes cumming before he realizes that he is going to be dwarfed by the giant growing beneath him. His asshole is being stretched much wider by the python growing inside him which prompts him to try to get off of it. ‘OH FUCK! *trying to pull the giant pole out* PLEASE MAN……*feels the huge cock spilling inside him*……WHAT THE……*feels himself growing again*……OHHH FUCKKK YEAHHHH! *voice deepens as he grows with Joe*’ The weight of the two behemoths is becoming unbearable for the elevator as it creaks under them. They both start laughing hysterically as they continue fucking. At nearly a half-ton, the two men can’t seem to stop having sex as they change positions and fuck each other interchangeably growing bigger than they were before. Once they get to 1500 pounds combined, the elevator falls and hits the ground sending the two engorged giants into the steel floor. Their sheer size does little damage to themselves as they lay there still interlocked and continue to laugh in their deep manly voices. After a few minutes longer, they stop fucking and look at each other. Deveraux makes a proposition to Joseph. ‘HEY! YOU KNOW WHAT WE SHOULD DO? WE SHOULD KNOCK THIS BUILDING DOWN JUST TO SEE IF WE CAN BIG FUCKER!’ Noticing that they have already caused cracks in the foundation of the building, Deveraux manages to crawl over to the side of the shaft and get up onto his feet again. However when he puts his arm on the the wall, it starts to buckle and causes debris to fall from the ceiling which of course makes Joseph laugh as it hits his enormous buddy in the head. Joe picks himself up by placing his arms over the sides of the crater they created from the fall and lifts himself up on to his feet. The ground nearly swallows him up as he does so. He then turns to stare down his equally imposing partner and starts charging at him which barely gives Deveraux time to counter. Joe jumps in the air as the two behemoths go flying through the wall and out a pair of glass windows. They land in the nearby parking lot and destroy a large chunk of the concrete as another crater forms. The aftershocks from this are rolling up the building which prompts several windows to crack and shatter. The two hulks can see that their bulk is causing this kind of destruction which immediately gets a rise out of Deveraux whose cock is now standing completely up now. He moans watching shards of glass cascade from the multiple-storied skyscraper on to the ground in front of him. He turns to Joe and slaps his cock on his side which makes the other giant grab it and stroke it roughly. The sensation sends him into a fury which naturally leads to more jizz flying out of his cockhead. The white flood covers Joe’s chest and drips down into the asphalt. Deveraux points his massive fingers in the direction of the structure. ‘OHH FUCK YEAH MAN, WHY DON’T YOU GO BACK OVER THERE AND FINISH WHAT WE STARTED. THEN YOU WILL REALLY OPEN THE FLOODGATES IN MY COCK!’ Joe smiles and starts bouncing around trying to get enough momentum to go barreling through the front entrance of the sports company; the shockwaves cause more cracks to form on the sides of the building. Deveraux’s deep gravelly voice rumbles as he pinches his nipples and rubs his chest anticipating the destruction that is about to happen. He can hear the giant muscle gawd inside knocking down beams as sections of the building start to crumble. The sight of this sends the massive stud into a wave of ecstasy as he shoots several more ropes of cum into the air. He watches another part of the building collapse before Joe comes rushing out the front entrance again waddling from side to side. Once he clears it, the rest of the building collapses leaving nothing behind but a giant mountain of steel, concrete, and wood. Joe returns to where Deveraux is standing with his immense tool and quickly latches his mouth around it pumping and sucking it with all of his might. This of course prompts another wave of cum to go flying all over Joe’s immense frame and inside him. The huge man surges in size once again surpassing a half-ton himself and rising quickly. He grabs Deveraux by the arm and immediately places the massive hulk’s mouth on his own immense pole. He looks down at him and smiles before saying, ‘let’s never stop growing man!’

So I havent posted in a while because of my desire to invent new hobbies lately. I apologize for anyone waiting on my other stories but they were all waiting for a new child to be born from my mind. This is the newest story I have but the trick this is that this is not the main story. This is only a chunk of the outer scope of a main idea. I've been waiting to try and write a story this big and, now, I think I'm ready to give it a go. The next part will be the actually main story that goes into the continuous section so, until then, I hope this gives you an idea of where I'm heading. B.I.G.: Spring Break Part 1 “Are you sure your brother isn’t a drug dealer, Troy?” asked Kent as he looked up at the tall building in front of them. He and his 3 friends just stood outside looking at it, their eyes moving from window to door to front lawn as they all were baffled by the size of the beautiful building they were going to spend Spring Break in. “He’s not. He just can’t help being great at computer engineering and working as a director for his company” said Tory, the mastermind of the trip. It was a long distance from Minnesota and what better place to be than by the ocean in Florida. Kent, a freshman in college, along with some other good friends, Davis and Luis. Kent wouldn’t normally have been dragged across 1/3 of the country for a single week of vacation but somehow all of them had been dragged along with their rich junior friend, Troy Roman. Back when all 4 of them had been in high school, the 4 of them had been the best of friends. It was only when Troy had left for college that they’d all started to detach from each other. That wasn’t the entire reason, of course, but it was probably one of the biggest causes for their alienation from each other. “Well, at least we get to live the good life for a week” Davis said. “No jobs, no chores, no responsibilities. Just a big open space” Luis said as he threw an arm around Davis’s shoulders. This remark deserved an agreeing nod from Kent and Troy as they both were still looking up at the clean, white building. The building resembled the kind of house you’d expect a famous actor/actress to have. The windows were paneless and glistened with a sparkled clean that you couldn’t get even after years of polishing. Surrounded by a white wall and a gate, the structure looked like a building one would only see in a gated community. The perfectly white building had many edges to it and was flat at the top, a difference from the traditional rooves one would see in Minnesota. There were several palm trees set around the building that glistened in the afternoon sunlight. The street that the group was standing on was paved beautifully as though it were just recently done. Seagulls and sounds from the ocean came from behind the building. Kent turned his head to Troy again. “Why did you say you wanted us to come again?” “I just wanted to catch up, Clark” Troy said as he gave Kent a grin and his dimples showed. Kent’s face reddened a little and turned away to his phone as if to check his messages. Kent didn’t believe Troy even if he did call him by that joke of a nickname he’d made for him back when they still knew each other like good friends. Kent knew the kind of people Troy was around. His click was mostly a group at his fraternity that so happened to have denied his invitation to his brother’s summer home for the break. Some had made plans already. Some said that they had tests to make up for. Some just simply didn’t want to go with Troy. Kent didn’t personally know any of the fraternity brothers of Troy’s but he knew some of their histories. He’d overheard in the university cafeteria that Troy had been bad mouthing some of the brothers and may have been betting on the school team behind closed doors. Being the guy that he was, Kent was as skeptical as possible regarding Troy’s situation. They were most certainly Troy’s very last resort. Kent could see in Troy’s personality that he would have brought a bushel of girls over them. It was the fact that he didn’t that puzzled him. Kent was red for a reason. Troy was a solid 10 when it came to ratings in hotness. He had dirty blonde hair with a pair of blue eyes that could stop a truck. Troy’s jawline was angular and screamed masculinity when he smiled. When he smiled, his eyes just seemed to get brighter than ever and made it hard for anyone not to trust him. His hair was well done while still giving off that kind of bed head only a perfect male model would have. He was wearing a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up that showed off the glistening, tanned skin on his muscular forearms. The shirt was well formed but it was difficult to disguise the bulging muscles beneath Troy’s tight, grey tanktop. His muscular pecs could be clearly seen and his six pack was no exception. Kent couldn’t resist the 5 o’clock shadow covered grin that his model hot old friend Troy gave him as he dripped sex appeal. Kent was glad he was wearing a jacket that covered hovered above his crotch. His shorts were being mildly forgiving of his big erection as he tried to disguise and turn slightly away. Troy looked back to Luis and Davis and raised an eyebrow. “Shit, you two are at it already?” he asked as Luis and Davis made out slowly and heatedly against their rented car. Luis’s handsome grin turned to us and he gave us his devilish glare. He’d always had that kind of handsome charisma to his face. His brown eyes were flickering with a mischievous gaze past his black curls. “We were nice enough to wait till we got here. Be glad we didn’t have cum all over your backseat” he said as he turned back to Davis, put a finger beneath his chin, and gave Davis another deep kiss. Troy scratched his head like he was pondering how to react before shrugging. Kent always felt that all of them being gay EXCEPT Troy was just cruel punishment from the universe. Troy was probably one of the hottest guys Kent had ever known and yet, though 3 out of 4 of them were gay, he was the one feeling out of place. After Davis and Luis had gotten together in their senior year of high school, Kent never felt like he’d be truly courageous enough to tell them that he himself was gay. It would have been awkward in his perspective. Kent would never live it down. “Well, we need to drop our shit off then get a good drive going” Troy said as he went and opened the back of the car and threw a duffel bag over his shoulder, his forearm muscles bulging. Kent, Davis, and Luis followed suit as they grabbed some bags and also began to carry some luggage through the front door. The inside of the house might have been even better than the outside in design. The wooden floors were polished to the point where you couldn’t imagine a particle of dirt being on them. The kitchen was large and appeared to be stocked with food thanks to Troy calling his maid service ahead of time. The living room was big with a widescreen TV in the wall, crystal tables and stands, a crystal chandelier, pictures of expensive looking modern art, assorted ferns and plants in the corners, and a mini bar placed artfully with a row of stools. The stairs leading up to the 2nd floor revealed a somewhat long hallway of rooms that went from beautiful porcelain bathrooms to well furnished bedrooms all with king sized beds wearing silk covers and each owning another large widescreen TV in the wall. When they’d dropped off all their stuff and went to the back of the house, a pool reached out into the distance surrounded by lawn chairs shaded by umbrellas and a view of the ocean so magnificent you could watch for hours. “Don’t let me go, Luis!” Davis shouted playfully as he spread his arms and started a reenactment of Titanic. “Why would I? You’re one sweet piece of ass!” Luis joked as he wrapped his arms around Davis’s waist. The group all looked at the view for about 5 minutes until they’d finally come to the conclusion that they should see the city nearby before planning anything else. ------------------------ The drive around the city was definitely cool for Kent. He liked looking at other places in brochures for distant hotels and in the movies he watched so seeing it all up close wasn’t that bad. They were driving for a good while beside the ocean and even dived through the streets of the city to scout possible places for their nighttime adventure. After leaving a sandwich shop they’d went to for lunch, they drove back home to briefly switch clothing. “Ok, we’re going out and we’re getting laid” Troy said as he threw his shirt off, dropped his pants unabashed and ran up the stairs wearing nothing but a tanktop and some tight boxerbriefs that Kent couldn’t help watching head up the stairs. “Why do we have to leave to get laid, I can get some ass right here” Luis said as he grabbed Davis around the waist and pressed lips to his. Kent’s jaw clenched watching his friends kiss. It always struck a note in his chest watching people who were together show it off. “Come on, babe, we might be able to pull off a threesome if we play our cards right” Davis said between kisses. “Uh… I think I’m staying here for the night” Kent said as he turned away and headed for the living room couch. Luis and Davis looked over to Kent. “Why? Don’t tell me you’re afraid to meet a girl outside of little ol’ Minnesota” said Davis. “No, I just think I need a good nap before I do anything big this week.” The two lovers looked at each other with interested glances before Luis shrugged. That was usually their sign that they’d let the situation go. However, Troy stepped in, coming down wearing a pair of tight skinny jeans that showed off his muscular legs and nothing else as he was putting on a tight striped shirt, flashing his abs to everyone before it came down and pulled over his defined muscles. Troy threw on a puka shell necklace and threw his leather jacket over the sofa before throwing his arm around Kent’s shoulders and wagging a finger down at the much shorter boy. “You’re not missing out on our first night on the town, Clark. Time for you to show your super human strengths and come home with a Louis Lane. Hell, if we’re drunk enough, we might pull us an orgy and have it out back here.” Kent was going to protest but Troy was giving that look again. Kent’s face reddened trying to force himself to disagree with those cheekbones. In defeat, he went along with Troy’s plan but not under his terms. “Don’t think you’re going out in that either” Troy said, looking over Kent’s blue jacket and his awkward looking white shorts. “You have to show the girls what your made. Go ahead upstairs, there should be some pants I wear that are tight enough on me for you to wear loose and, if anything, a shirt that shouldn’t look half bad either.” With a pat on the ass, Troy sent Kent forward to the stairs and waited patiently for him to come back with his suggestions on. Luis and Davis had already dressed for partying ahead of time and waited with Troy for Kent to come down. After what went to about 30 minutes, they heard the sound of Kent’s footsteps tapping on the steps and they all got up to leave. Kent was blushing as he wore a white shirt with skinny jeans that fit well to his body. His shoes, which were usually the best thing he wore, helped in making him look great as he wore the red hi tops over the ends of the jeans to disguise the extra leg length. All together, Kent looked great. “Damn, we should have you wear stuff like that more often” Luis said as his mouth was agape along with Davis’. Troy came up to Kent and lightly punched him on the arm. “That’s more like it.” Kent just shook it all off as his friends pushing his buttons. “Let’s just wrap this up” was the last thing he said before they were off to begin their story that night. “That’s right, everyone wrap it up or else you’re coming back with a rash!” ------------------------ The city lights were like a decoration of Christmas ornaments across a ground surface below their view. Driving into was like driving into a light show as we went down the streets like all the other night time cruisers. The town was full with night goers looking for a good time. 4 of them were driving in their Jeep through the pool of people going around, checking out their surroundings in a new lighting. It took roughly 10 minutes before Davis and Luis told Troy to stop the car. They were in front of a gay bar with bright pink signs. “Don’t wait up” Luis said as he smiled into Davis’s neck. Troy shook his head with a grin as he saw the waved them off. “I don’t want to see any add ons unless they’re chicks, understood?” Davis and Luis just laughed as they turned and headed inside the bar. Troy and Kent were alone now, the engine still purring. “I think we need to come down with a case of sweet ass, bro” Troy said as they headed to a party Troy’d heard about nearby. Kent was sitting on the couch alone next to a guy passed out from drinking way too much alcohol and letting it knock him out. Kent was sipping hard lemonade with an expression of unknown origin. His face wasn’t the happy variety, nor was it the kind of sadness. It was the kind of someone who’d made plans that he couldn’t make use of. A party with no other guys he knew besides his super crush ex-friend who barely knew him anymore. Kent had to sit there and watch people pass by for minutes on end as he sipped and received an extremely dim buzz. The lights in the room were low so that those couples and “couples” could make out in semi-privacy in the dark corners. It was like a cesspool on its way to a room orgy between horny 20 somethings, people who didn’t know each other, and half asleep drunks. Kent was in the middle of all of it trying to keep composed and unaffected but it was difficult. After 30 minutes, he couldn’t take any more and tried to leave. Problem is, he didn’t want to leave without Troy. He found Troy a few minutes later talking to some girl. It took less than a minute for Kent to notice that, even when half drunk, the girl was finding nothing interesting about Troy as she passed him a “Fuck off, perv” and turned to leave. Troy grabbed her arm and held tight in his drunken stupor. “Hey……. Wait. I’m not…. *burp*…. Done talking to you” he mumbled. The girl shook him off and smacked him hard across the face, sending him sprawling back and landing in Kent’s arms. Kent ignored the shifting in his pants as he watched him lie in his arms for a moment before shifting awake. “Wha?” he said as he looked up to see Kent. “Oh hey, buddy, I missed you.” “You alright, “buddy”?” Kent responded. “Fuck off man, I need to go..” he mumbled to low for Kent to hear. “What?” Kent asked. “FUCK OFF!” With that Kent was shoved and sent sprawling into a coffee table, shattering the glass and knocking over plastic red cups as Troy turned to leave. Kent pulled himself out of the mess as people crowded around him taking pictures for future internet media. ------------------------ Troy was trudging in no direction particularly as he went down the street with a beer in hand and a sleepy expression on his face. Troy scratched his stubble before he ran into a fence and dragged himself off of it before continuing. He ended up turning into an alley way with few lights that was hard to see with the alcohol making him see curvy lines and waves. It was like looking out your car window while in a car wash. Flashes of his frat mates and other friends went through his mind as he thought about all of the things that happened before getting there. He couldn’t forget how his friends turned on him after learning his parents were cutting him off and his ‘girlfriend’ avoided him. He didn’t know why he called her his girlfriend since he himself thought she was nothing more than a bossy bitch. His frat members had turned on him after learning of the cut off too and were questioning if he’d help pay for the house rent this month. “Fuck ‘em” Troy belched before something unexpected happened. A large moving thing came at him like a train and practically rammed into him. Things happened too quickly for him to register. One moment, he was running into a guy who’d probably mugged him the way he hit him so hard and kept walking and the next, he was pressed against the wall by the same man as if he’d turned around at lightning speed and was holding him to the bricks. “Lemme go man!” he shouted as he struggled against the man’s grasp. All he could see when he tried to look up at the surprisingly tall man’s face was a red cap. He was wearing a jogging suit that looked like it was stretching around a big creature. The man was breathing hard as he looked down at the struggling Troy but, if Troy had been fully sober, he’d have seen the fact that the man’s arm was unmoving and unflexed. Almost as though he was barely trying or trying not to press him through the wall. Troy was struggling for a solid minute before he tried to shout for help. Of course, his cry was met with something unexpected. The large man had kissed him and he’d gotten a glimpse of someone with beautifully smooth and reddened skin. The man had a 5 o’clock shadow of black that was too hot to pass up and, as time progressed, Troy began to notice it less and less. Lights flashed in his brain as the unexpected occurred and he tried to figure how to respond. He didn’t expect his response to be relaxing and melting into the kiss though. Troy’s knees buckled as his body warmed up to the feeling of the man’s strong tongue in his mouth. His eyes were fluttering as he experienced feelings he’d never felt with his girlfriend, even when fully drunk. His hands were loosened around the thick forearm of the man holding him against the wall and he fought less to be freed. It was like a cyclone of sex and hormones hitting him all at once as he let the kiss take him. When the man pulled back 4 minutes later, Troy surprisingly still had his eyes closed and his mouth agape as he felt the feelings fade only slightly. Some part of him wanted more but he didn’t know why. The man pulled back and his big, muscular chest came into view as he looked down at Troy with his face still in shadow. Though Troy could make out a grin on that beautifully crafted jawline, he could see nothing else. “You’re perfect” the man’s deep, gruff voice said as his free arm reached down to grab at something. Troy looked down to see what the man was grabbing and his eyes bucked as he saw him grab his pants, pull down, and something came free. He was almost afraid to guess what it was by all the size it owned. It was like a log had grown out of his assaulter’s pants and had flew out to thwack him in the groin too. The man was holding him at the end of his arm length still, more than 2 feet away. The man’s muscles didn’t even tense as he pushed Troy down to his knees and the large log thwacked him in the face a few times. “Suck” was the only word Troy was given. To Be Continued……..

‘Will you stop trying to molest me Justin, I wish I never told you about that story now.’ The curious 20-year-old college student has been hitting on his older 22-year-old roommate for several months. Braxton mentioned to Justin one night while the two guys were in their bedroom after having a few drinks that he was visited by an older man the night he turned 18. He was a freshman in college and didn’t really know anyone that went there. The man was dressed incredibly well in a nicely tailored suit from top to bottom. At the time, Braxton’s roommate was visiting family so he wasn’t around which left the young student all alone. The man showed up at the front steps of the dormitory that Braxton was staying in. It so happened that the teenager was outside standing and talking on his phone. When he finished his phone call, he turned to go back inside but not before this man stops him. ‘Hello there Braxton mind if I have a few words with you.’ With a puzzled look on his face, the 18-year-old stares at the man and wonders how the hell he would know his name. ‘Uhhh, I don’t know who you are and I don’t want to buy what you are trying to sell to me so…..*stops to think*…..how did you know my name?’ The man smiles and proceeds to walk towards him up the stairs into the front lobby. Braxton starts to move backwards inside before he is about to scream. The man grabs his arm and holds him in place. The scared teenager freezes as the man puts his arms around Braxton’s back. ‘Shhh, I’m not here to hurt you buddy, you are ready to graduate to the next chapter in your life. You obviously don’t remember anything about me since you are so surprised to see me. Unfortunately, restraining you right now is the only thing I can do to get your attention.’ Braxton tries to scream but nothing comes from his voicebox. He grabs it with both hands and looks around to see if anyone notices. There isn’t a soul there probably because it is after midnight now. The man takes him over to one of the chairs sitting on the balcony beside the entrance to the dorm and tells him to sit down. The man pulls up another chair and sits in front of Braxton. He takes a few deep breaths and looks the young man in the eyes. ‘Okay…..when you were 12 Braxton, you were in an accident. As you lay dying in that hospital bed, your mind and soul took a journey to a place not many have ever been to before. That plane of existence is where I reside. You were not sure why you had the feelings you did back then since you were on the verge of becoming a teenager. Your soul latched on to me Braxton and wanted to learn what to do next which I was obliged to do. You were unaware that your body was healing with my assistance.’ ‘That wasn’t the only thing I was helping you with either. *clasps his hands in Braxton’s* Your cock and balls for the first time that day started to function in a more mature fashion. You had your first orgasm in that hospital bed and it was amazing.’ Braxton rips his hands away from the man and jumps up. He rushes towards the front lobby doors and turns around. ‘I don’t fucking know what you are talking about man, I don’t ever want to remember that day ever again…..’ The man stops him midway through his thought. ‘Braxton…..you know who I am because you made me look the way you always wanted your fantasy man to look like. You always wanted to be with an older man around your dad’s age because you have talked about it every night before you go to bed. Even now at this school, you mention me and dream about me.’ The teenager goes inside and down the hall before he stops by one of the night auditors. ‘Is everything alright Braxton? You seem flustered and a bit…..sweaty.’ He turns and notices that the man is right behind him, but the auditor doesn’t see him. Braxton thinks for a moment and speaks. ‘I just went on a run, I’m alright.’ ‘Okay, remember that you must be in before midnight though during the week.’ The auditor turns and walks back to the front desk. Braxton gets into the nearby elevator as the man follows him inside. ‘He doesn’t see you. Who are you?’ *reaches to feel the man’s thick muscular chest which strains against his satin dress shirt* The man reaches over to push the stop button on the elevator and pulls Braxton in to him. He grabs the teen’s hands and rubs them up and down his chest as he stares into his eyes. The teen is in awe of the man’s incredible muscles that he feels underneath the fabric. The man’s groomed black fur on his face and neck is exactly what he envisioned in the dreams he has had since he was 12. ‘You know who I am Braxton. I’m your Matt that you have formed in your mind, well at least physically. I can also sense something else going on in your mind.’ Matt lets out a few growls as Braxton hears a few rips coming from the man’s body. His body appears to be growing a little bit as his shirt splits down the middle of his back along with his suit jacket. His thick hairy pecs shred the front of the shirt slightly as they are now visible. The teenager lets out a few moans. He reaches in to feel the hairy swollen muscles that feel soft to the touch. ‘Hold on there buddy, look down. GRRR!’ *winks* Matt’s quads swell up to the point that his suit pants look painted on. The seams rip enough to where the thick hairy slabs jut out the sides. The surprised teen leans down to run his hands along each bump and curve. He lightly moans feeling the thick forest of hair sitting on top of both tree trunks. While he is down there, Braxton feels a lot of heat radiating from the center of Matt’s pants. The big man grunts as his crotch grows thicker and longer. The young teen can’t seem to take his eyes off of it hearing noises coming from within. ‘Go ahead buddy, put your hand up to it, you are compelling me to grow.’ Braxton runs his hands along the crease of Matt’s shaft. The huge pole pulses against his hand as he finally gives in to it a little to lay his head against it. The big man reaches down to pet the teen’s head and hair before telling him to look up. ‘You are the reason I am like this Braxton. My body is what your mind created and is creating as we are in here right now. I know my muscles are turning you on greatly as I sense it in you. There is a part of you that was longing for this day to come. Now that I am here, it is time for you to take the next step and enter into the next stage of your life Braxton.’ The dazed teen slowly moves Matt’s cock around before he unzips his pants and swallows the huge pole down his throat. He sucks on it lovingly making the big man groan deeply. Braxton looks up and smiles as he starts to feel the need for Matt to grow again. More popping comes from the big man’s body as his pants completely shred and fall down to the ground. His immense chest finishes off the rest of his dress shirt as he yanks it off and throws it to the other side of the elevator. He growls and does a most muscular for Braxton as his jacket nearly disintegrates under the incredible mass forming on his body. This makes the young man moan even louder as he tastes a river of precum flowing down into his belly. ‘RAWR! Yeah buddy, you are making me want to rage Braxton. If you continue on this path, I won’t be able to hold back. I enjoy it because you enjoy it of course.’ The young student grabs Matt’s immense ass and snaps the waistband off freeing up the last remaining fabric from his body. His socks and dress shoes explode under the pressure of his growing feet. Braxton moans as he continues to gulp at the big man’s powerful rod as it lengthens and slides further down inside the teen’s throat. Matt reaches his incredibly massive arms out to brace himself against the elevator walls which are now creaking. ‘Mmmmm buddy…..this is about to get really dangerous though Braxton. Stay close to me.’ Matt’s huge frame is now as wide as the elevator now as his head starts to go through the ceiling. Debris begins falling down as the growing man laughs destroying the walls and lights which explode against his hairy stone skin. Braxton sucks even harder and faster tasting the ooze draining inside him as Matt roars in delight. He raises his massive left arm up to grab the cables above his head while gripping Braxton in his right arm. He lifts the young man up with him who still has his mouth locked on to the huge pole residing in his throat. ‘It feels absolutely incredible Braxton. Keep sucking buddy while I get both of us to safety up at the top of this dorm.’ The giant continues climbing up the cables with one arm as he feels his cock and balls getting closer to the edge. They are now swelling to the point that they are turning a purplish-red color. Matt stops moving up the cable to compose himself for a few seconds making Braxton come up for air as the giant’s huge cock bounces furiously spraying several jets of precum down inside the elevator car below them. The huge stud flexes his entire body enhancing the feeling from within while growling in delight. ‘Make me cum Braxton you really do have quite a wild streak from within your mind. It will be the biggest load you have ever seen in your life.’ Holding on to Matt’s waist as much as possible, the student strokes the giant’s cock in a strong even fashion knowing that the volcano will erupt at any time. The monster’s massive legs and quads move with the rhythm as they thrust faster with each stroke. Matt starts to climb upwards again feeling the tension from inside his balls building up again as his testicles cannot grow anymore otherwise they will rip through the sack. ‘SHIT! OHHHH FUCK BRAXTON, look out. I am going to coat this whole place.’ Braxton moves his head as Matt’s piss slit stretches to its limits before launching a giant wave of cum fifty feet into the air before it lands onto the nearby tunnel wall. The giant continues swiveling his lower body still able to hold on to the cable as his body pours sweat down on to the lower elevator car. Yet another giant stream of cum goes flying from Matt’s huge cock and finds its way down at the bottom of the tunnel. Braxton now moves back into the huge pole’s path and awaits the third jet as he opens his mouth. Matt roars in laughter still thrusting his quads in the eager young man’s face. ‘You want this kind of power too don’t you buddy…..yeah I know you do…..I have always known that you wanted this. Well you will get your wish Braxton, open wide little man!’ The student sticks his tongue out as another huge jet of cum hits him in the face and coats his shirt and pants. He locks his mouth on top of the huge pole and chokes as the cum continues to shoot out of the giant’s cock and down Braxton’s chest and lower body. Matt smiles at him and can feel the young man gulping down tons of cum craving what he has always dreamed about. The big man waits until all of the cum has left his body before he starts to climb again. Braxton moans caressing his lover’s immense ass and licks the sides of Matt’s cock getting every drop he might have missed. The student’s stomach is so swollen that it pushes his shirt all the way up above it. He literally looks pregnant. Matt laughs again as he feels the round protrusion up against his legs. ‘I think you have had enough to drink Braxton. Let’s get out of here before something else happens.’ After a couple more minutes, they finally reach the top. Matt busts through the top by putting his fist through the steel and concrete. He finds the roof and looks down at Braxton. ‘You trust me right Braxton?’ He then lifts them both up onto the roof and falls over to rest. Braxton lets go of his waist and does the same thing. After calming down, the giant gets up and goes to stand over his young lover. The student’s stomach remains bloated from the massive amount of cum he consumed. Matt helps him up so he can talk to him. ‘Well, what are you waiting for Braxton? *waves his arms* You consumed enough muscle building protein to probably take this building down.’ Braxton wonders what he is supposed to do. Matt looks him straight in the eyes and says to just concentrate his energy on him. The student’s breathing increases as his body begins to react. His stomach slowly empties as his legs and feet start growing. His jeans split immediately as his shoes explode under the sheer mass that is being added. His muscles make quick work of his shirt as his back cracks several times trying to accommodate the incredible amount of muscle that keeps piling on top of their selves. The young teenager that was there just a minute before is completely gone now as Braxton matures right in front of Matt’s eyes. The big young stud roars in ecstasy as he feels completely reborn. He flexes his massively round muscles trying to show off in front of Matt who just laughs. He flexes his muscles back at Braxton as they both grunt at each other. The roof creaks under their feet as they take a few huge steps around. Matt eventually gets behind his young lover and wraps his arms around him. He then throws Braxton to the ground and starts wrestling him. They grunt and groan rubbing their slick hairy muscled bodies together until they eventually just decide to stop. After a few minutes, Matt moves down to his partner’s lower body and starts to toy with Braxton’s thick meaty cock. ‘You worked me over really well Braxton, now it is my turn buddy.’ After being edged by Matt several times the young behemoth finally launches his cum volcano into the air as it floats over the side of the building and coats several of the dorm student’s cars. Braxton quickly moves himself to the edge of the building and shoots several more jets of cum hitting nearby streets and sidewalks. They both laugh hysterically until Braxton finishes cumming. Matt puts his arm around his young lover and kisses his lips. They embrace each other and moan as they calm down. ‘Well that’s it buddy. I’ve done all I can do for you at this point, but I will be back soon don’t you worry.’ Matt vanishes a few seconds later. _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ ‘Are you fucking serious Braxton? I mean…..I knew that you nearly died and all but this Matt guy just sounds like some kind of fantasy.’ ‘And I would agree with that assessment Justin, but he is very real. He helped me learn how to control it after that night. It wasn’t the only time we were together either.’ Justin tries to rub his roommate’s crotch again which makes Braxton quite irritable. ‘DAMNIT JUSTIN! I am not going to grow for you. I am not Bruce Banner it doesn’t work that way.’ ‘So what triggers it then?’ Braxton knows what he is trying to do and doesn’t go for it. ‘HA! nice try there genius, but no clues.’ Justin finally gets up from Braxton’s bed and moves over to the bathroom to strip naked. His 10” cock is wet with precum which prompts the college student to rub it up and down his shaft to make it shiny. Braxton stares intently at it and is dumbfounded as to why he never saw Justin’s huge cock before. ‘Uhh Justin, I had no idea that you were so…..wow endowed.’ He can start to feel himself heating up quickly too. Before he can even try to control himself, his body starts to react. Justin can see the discomfort he is in and walks back over to him. He grins at Braxton and bounces his cock at him. ‘So you want this do you man? This is going to be fucking awesome.’ Once he stands directly in front of Braxton’s face, he slaps his cock on his roommate’s face and chest and watches in amazement as his gifted older roommate’s growing muscles rip, shred, and tear their way through his clothes and continue growing to unimaginable heights. Never in his wildest dreams did Justin think that this improbable story was true, but now he knows that Braxton’s near-death experience brought with it a powerful gift. In case you want to read another installment in the series: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/3467-the-other-side-of-the-mirror/

Previous chapters: "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - Inside Zaftig's Lab: The Musclemen Revealed "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1 Precis: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable appetite to receive muscle worship. Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his ever-growing need to receive equal doses of both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential. Chapter 9: Good for Morale, Continued Oral was hardly uncommon in the compound. In fact, Moster encouraged it. And Zaftig was fascinated by the men’s hunger for it, though he never took part. Not long after starting a P21 protocol, each man had developed insatiable an insatiable need to suck and be sucked. Cocksucking was therefore more than just a healthy release for the men: it was now mandatory. And though none of them would acknowledge themselves to be 100% gay, part of their acceptance into the program relied on each man’s private original tendencies towards pansexuality, boosted as they were by the behavioral blockers of P21. Over the years, each of the bodybuilders in Project Herculaneum had at one time or another sucked every other bodybuilder’s cock to full release many dozens of times. Often it happened in the showers after training, but sometimes it was after meals, as well. And as all were superlatively endowed with astonishing penises of uncommon weight, size, length, beauty and girth, no one was disappointed. Even Abdul Karim took part, much to the surprise of everyone. Though he never talked about it, even appearing bored, the more observant men noted a gleam in his eye each time he bent to service Gunst. Oral was against the rules on rest days. By the time training days came around again, the musclemen were already laughing, slapping each other on the backs during meals, and smacking their lips in anticipation. Fucking was another matter. All the men had been vaccinated against the virulent STDs that had long ravaged the world, and were now immune to any infection, their antibodies remorselessly attacking any invader. Butt fucking was an art. The soldiers were all equipped with powerful machines, all endowed with superb glutes, and all highly in touch with the pure waves of pleasure broadcast by their sensitive prostates. Good muscle butt fucking was serious stuff. As all the men were huge, heavy, and powerfully strong, it was like heavy lifting crossed with pure animal pleasure: one bull fucking another bull. Vigorously. Group fucks of spirited, high-energy muscle daisy chains were a once-a-month event, seriously organized and generally preserved on video for the records. Wearing full black leather masks in order to remain as anonymous as possible, and with deep black satin robes covering their individually distinctive bodies, the men gathered in the dimmed mess hall and connected their dicks to the next asshole in a line-up deliberately arranged by Moster. Muscle worship was not part of the evening. The point was prostate manipulation and bonding. Still, private fucking was not discouraged. A few of the men had distinct preferences for one another as fuck buddy, even as the cocksucking was group-wide and free-for-all. Of course, Schumacher had been fucking them all for years – except for Karim, of course. Apart from the daisy-chain sessions, no one dared to even approach Killer Karim from the rear - if he valued his teeth, that is. But so far, as far as he knew, no one man in particular had privately fucked Joe Tiffany – apart from the scheduled group daisy-chain fucks, where Moster was careful to make sure that the connections varied from session to session. Schumacher had fucked him just once in a group session, although as always as always he was masked and gowned. He could see through Tiffany’s mask that his eyes were rolling back in his head in pleasure, and Schumacher wasn’t sure Tiffany knew who he was. He knew it was Joe Tiffany’s muscular rear he was fucking, however, sliding up and down his supercharged big cock. That butt was pure, beautiful gold, a magically shaped combination of soft skin and raw, ripped power that was mind-boggling in its balance and tireless in its energy. Tiffany had taken charge of the fucking, as he gave it to the taller muscleman in the chain ahead of him, powerfully blasting forward into the glutes ahead of him, and, in perfect timing, also pumping his animal butt up and down on Schumacher’s cock with furiously blind energy. For his part, Tiffany knew full well whose cock had impaled his perfect butt that night. He didn’t share this information. From that night, he had a plan. Another plan, that is. In reality, all of the men were deeply aware of whose butts they were servicing, and who was manfully plugging his own from behind. The men had spent too many hours together in the rec room, on the workout floor, in classes and in the showers, not to be able to instantly recognize and distinguish each of his buddies. The wearing of the robes was nothing but a farce, but still they conceded, secretly further aroused by the spectacle of the volumes of black fabric draped with alluring mystery over each man’s rippling physique. Still, from that night on, Joe Tiffany knew that Herman Schumacher was just the man to regularly plow his supple, needy, bodybuilder-cupcakes behind. All he had to do was train him just a little bit over the following few months to ensure that he was captive, obedient, and would always be on call whenever Tiffany was of a mind to be mindlessly fucked. In the mean time, at night in his quarters his oversized dildo was getting the workout he bought it to do during one of his rare trips to town. He would energetically shove it deep into his butthole, rear his head back, close his eyes, and dream of Schumacher’s likely powerful thrusts. And, as Moster always said to Dr. Zaftig, who wasn’t entirely comfortable with the ritual behind the group fucks, “They need more sex than ordinary men. A lot more sex. Their metabolisms demand it. Besides – “ And Zaftig would say with him, in unison, “It’s good for morale.” Waring was screaming in Gunst’s face. Steve Waring “Come on, asshole! What’s the matter, pansy ass? Can’t you do it? You’ve only done 12 so far, butthead. What’s the problem, 200 pounds too heavy for you to curl, baby boy?” Gunst’s face was screwed into a mask of lip-curling, teeth-crunching pain as he vainly tried to complete the 13th rep. His biceps were exploding. The veins in his neck stood out like steel cables. His face bloomed deep crimson. He screamed. He couldn’t do it. He strained and squeezed and tried again, and his arms froze mid-rep, unmoving, the biceps bulging with 23 inches of shattering power. Suddenly he threw the weight to the floor, where it crashed resoundingly, echoing throughout the compound. Waring jumped back a little to avoid getting hit by the bar. The other men never stopped work, nor did they look up. Moster strode over to them. “What’s the problem here, Private Gunst?” “I – I couldn’t do it, sir,” said Gunst, backing away and mopping his face with his huge hand. Ashamed, he lowered his head. Fountains of his sweat splashed onto the floor. Moster turned to Waring. “What set was he on?” “Sir, he had completed five sets of 15 reps each, sir.” “Successfully?” “Yes, sir.” Gunst glanced nervously down at Sergeant Moster’s twitching palm. Moster hadn’t punished anyone yet tonight for slacking, and he knew it was about time he’d want to show his authority over the men. He needn’t have worried. Moster smiled kindly. “That’s actually pretty damn good, Private Gunst,” said Sergeant Moster. “Waring, take care of this man, and then let’s see him try again.” “Yes, sir,” said Waring. The young bodybuilder quickly got to his knees, lifted Gunst’s pulsing cock out of his barely restraining jockstrap, brought it tenderly up to his lips, and began to suck it deeply. Gunst closed his eyes and reared his head back thankfully. Immediately his cock was at full erection, throbbing and pulsing in Waring’s mouth. On white cap nights, cocksucking was permitted on the workout floor only if approved by Moster. “Use your lips, Private,” directed Moster, “the way we’ve discussed. You know the way Private Gunst likes it.” Waring nodded eagerly and mouthed the young man’s giant throbbing organ. “Pump your hips, Gunst.” Gunst began manfully plowing Waring’s good-looking, All-American face. “Harder.” Gunst pumped harder, and the satisfying sucking sounds grew louder, adding to the din. Waring thoroughly licked the cock up and down its full length, and rubbed it against the two-day old beard stubble of his cheeks. “Scratchy,” moaned Gunst with pleasure, his eyes closed. He plunged in again. Tiffany nudged his darkly handsome training partner Private Lang, who was just finishing a set of pull-downs. “Check ‘em out,” he murmured, winking and pointing. Lang turned and smiled broadly at the dreamily cocksucking Waring. “Waring always was a good cocksucker,” he said, just a shade too loudly. “You have a problem, Private Lang?” Moster’s voice boomed through the room. Tiffany ducked his head towards the pull down machine. Lang went white. “No, sir,” he stammered. “I think you do. Get over here.” Here it comes, chuckled Gunst to himself, watching the intimidated Lang stumble forward meekly as Waring, below, hungrily sucked his throbbing big cock. “Go get your punishment, man,” whispered a grinning, sweating Corporal Lefevre, punching the shame-faced Lang on the shoulder as he passed. Alvarez watched expressionlessly. “Take it like a man,” he murmured Alvarez as Lang passed him. He flashed a hard look at Tiffany. He knew what he was doing, getting Lang on the hot seat. He’d pay. Later. The hot seat. Indeed. 5’-11”, 280-pound Lang, streamlined with ripped, striated muscle and dripping with sweat, approached Moster and stood at rigid attention before him. He saluted. Sighing, acting as though he were resigned to the inevitable task of discipline before him, the giant Sergeant Moster sat heavily on one of the benches. By now the men were all looking away in a mix of nervousness, embarrassment, eagerness and excitement. Lang stood motionless, staring straight ahead in perfect attention, dreading the humiliation about to befall him. “Was something funny, Lang?” “No, sir.” “You don’t find Private Waring funny?” Lang glanced nervously at Waring, who greedily sucked cock. “No, sir.” “What are the rules, Private?” “We are respectful of the need for regular oral stimulation, sir.” “And why are we?” “It’s good for morale, sir.” “Was your comment good for morale, Lang?” Lang was ashamed. “No, sir.” “No. Let’s get to it, Private.” “Yes, sir.” Lang relaxed his attention, gulped, and quickly slipped out of his sopping t-shirt. He squeezed large droplets of sweat out on the marley surface of the gym floor and tossed it resignedly in the growing puddle. Standing before Moster a little pathetically, he was a muscle giant about to be chastised by an even larger muscle giant. Silently, submissively, he bent over Sergeant Moster’s powerful quads and lay prone on his lap. Moster, his fingers twitching, raised his palm. He paused a moment. “How long has it been, Private?” “Since when, sir?” Through Moster’s sweatsuit Lang could feel the man’s enormous penis, relaxed across the top of the sergeant’s right thigh, press against his abs. “Since I had to discipline you in front of the men, Private?” “About two months, sir.” Moster glanced down appraisingly at the beautiful, trembling glutes that lay gleaming over his knee. He paused, his hand held aloft, inspecting with internal approval. “You were training legs tonight, weren’t you, Private?” he asked. The suspense was killing Lang. “Yes, sir, I was, sir.” “Squatting deep?” “Yes, sir.” “Keeping good form?” “I think so, sir.” “Good, Private. This will supplement your workout tonight. Heat helps muscles grow.” With calloused, powerful palms, his thick fingers spread wide for maximum sting, Sergeant Moster sharply spanked the muscleman’s rocky glutes with carefully applied, deeply resonant butt smacks. Lang twisted and turned on his lap. After a few sharp spanks he cried out. “Sir, it stings, sir!” Tears spouted from his eyes. “Goddamn right it stings.” Moster turned to Gunst, watching from a few feet away with wide eyes, his large cock sliding deeply in and out of Waring’s mouth. “Fuck face, Private,” he commanded. “Yes sir!” shouted Gunst. He placed his hands on the back of Waring’s head and pumped his hips rhythmically as Waring, his mouth full of cock, moaned with deep satisfaction. The rest of the squad was watching. Moster could see all were now getting visibly excited. Their jocks were starting to bulge fearsomely, and two or three massive penis heads had popped out of their restraining pouches. “Get back to work!” Moster commanded, and without hesitation, the men turned back to their weights and began to lift again with renewed zeal. Gunst’s huge body shuddered, and a river of thick cum began spurting out of Waring’s mouth and down his chin. “UUUUNNNNNGGGGHHHHH!” he roared. Waring was moaning deeply as the desperately swallowed the pint of semen pouring down his throat. By the time he was finished shooting his load, Moster was steadily applying the 25th blow to Lang’s shiny red, twitching musclebutt. Moster issued his next order. “See that you finish that set properly, Gunst, or you’re next on the hot seat.” “Yes, sir!” he shouted, stuffing his dripping, still hard cock back into his stained jock as best he could as Waring, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, scrambled to his feet. “Spot me,” Gunst said to Waring, and, grabbing the weight, he peeled off 15 perfect-form, agonizingly correct curls. Waring, doing his best to ignore both his own achingly enlarged cock and the yet looming bulge in Gunst’s jockstrap, and with the splotches of cum still dripping down his face, spotted him with as much concentration as he could muster. “1! 2! 3!” Waring counted the reps, filled with admiration as Gunst’s mountainous biceps exploded with power. As Waring shouted the count, Moster applied another heavy smack for each rep to the quivering, deeply scarlet, muscular bottom of Private Lang, who, over his knees, groaned deeply with a blend of humiliation, excitement and pain. As he spanked, Moster called out loudly to the men. “Attention! Men!” “7! 8! 9! 10!” Spank! The man snapped into attention from wherever they stood around the workout floor. “Tonight you will be meeting our newest recruit in Project Herculaneum.” Spank! Spank! “From this evening on, we will now be known as The Twenty.” Spank! Spank! Spank! The men stood at rigid attention. “Yes, sir!” they shouted. “And remember, men,” said Moster, grinning down at handsome Private Lang stretched over his knees, who had tears in his eyes and whose face was almost – but not quite – as beet red as the handprints on his perfect butt, “being spanked by me is a badge of honor. Never be ashamed when I call you forward to the hot seat have your butts whipped. I do not pay such honorific attentions to anyone outside the squad.” Spank! Spank! “18! 19! 20! 21!” “Yes, sir!” Spank! Spank! Tiffany grinned. He had often spotted the quiet, shy, legendary young muscle giant Casey Rockland in the mess, and heard all about his fearsome physique. He was looking forward to meeting him. He paid no attention to the unwavering, hostile gaze of Corporal Alvarez. Corporal Schumacher strode over to him. He glanced over at Alvarez threateningly, who immediately shifted his gaze and went back to work. “You better watch it. You don’t want to piss off that guy,” he muttered to Tiffany. “Who the fuck cares?” shrugged Tiffany. Thirty feet across the room, Moster continued to apply his stern, masterful spanking to Lang’s squirming, rock-hard musclebutt. Lang’s face was now contorted in an ongoing blissful combination of pain and pleasure, his mouth forming a smiling O….. “…oooooooooo….” Alvarez was watching closely from the corner. Even at more than 40 feet, Tiffany could see the Alvarez’s jock was now poling straight out from his body, strained to the bursting point. “I can’t always cover your ass when you misbehave. These men are my buddies. You’re still new here.” Tiffany smiled cockily. His fresh young musculature glowed with youth and health. He knew that since the last daisy chain that his sunny handsomeness and bad boy intentions had become irresistible to the old horndog Schumacher. It was all going beautifully. “I can take care of myself,” he said. He gestured with his thumb to the blank-faced, completely erect Alvarez, who was by now busy with his next set of deep squats. “Besides, he looks like he doesn’t mind.” The mute Private Meyer was now gleefully bent over before Alvarez, holding his ankles and laughing silently, dancing and twitching that magical butt of his just a few feet in front of the man’s protruding jockstrap. Alvarez had to grin. Then he turned back to the squat bar. “See?” Schumacher grunted. “Yeah, I know you can take care of yourself.” Schumacher moved in close and breathed into Tiffany’s face. “ I want to see you later on.” “You do, hunh?” “Yeah, I do, hunh. After the detail meets Casey Rockland, you come to my quarters. Tonight. That’s an order.” “Finish up, men!” commanded Moster, still spanking the twitching Lang’s bright-red glutes. Spank! “Ouch!” Lang cried. “You’re not my CO.” Tiffany lifted a bar off a squat rack and began doing slow military presses. He smiled indifferently at Schumacher and said no more. Schumacher grunted angrily and moved to the cable rack, where he finished off his chest workout with a final set of intense cable flyes. He now had Corporal Herman Schumacher wrapped around his little finger, and he knew it. He wrapped up his set of presses, now purposefully ignoring him, and grabbed his towel. He wiped himself off and smiled beatifically across at Moster. Moster, never pausing in his discipline of Lang, was amused. He winked at Tiffany. He knew he’d get the Private’s butt to himself – in time – but he generously allowed that Schumacher would get to it first. And that was part of his plan. Casey Rockland was the other part. The workout was finally over. “To the showers, men,” Moster called out. The men collected their workout bags and empty water jugs, and filed eagerly off the floor, clambering over one another like puppies, heading towards their no-holds barred shower room games. Even the normally disgruntled Karim had a special light in his eyes. He was looking forward to Gunst’s piss. As they raced out, Moster looked down at Lang, still stretched pitiably over his knee. “How many was that, Private?” he asked calmly. “59, sir.” “Good. I assume you enjoyed it?” “Yes, sir,” he said with meek truthfulness. “Actually, I loved it.” “Then here’s one more for good luck.” He raised his black hand and applied the last, 60th searing red-hot butt smack. WHACK! “Ow! That was good, sir!” Lang scrambled to his feet, saluted, and tenderly rubbing the scarlet handprints on his delectable bodybuilder butt. “May I join the others now?” “Off with you.” “Thank you, sir!” Lang scooped up his discarded clothes and plastic bottle with one hand, flinging his gear over his broad shoulders, standing still for a moment pouring what was left of the cool water over his shoulder onto his stinging glutes. He grinned at Moster. "Thank you again, sir, for the discipline. My butt needed it." Moster waved him off. Then, kneading his iron-hard, hand-print reddened butt cheeks with the fingers of both hands, the handsome private scampered happily, if somewhat bow-leggedly, away to join his sweaty, horny muscle buddies in the locker room. Chapter 10: The Showers Inside, they had already slipped out of their drenched t-shirts, boots and jockstraps, slipped on striped flipflops, and had headed quickly to the showers, and down to extreme business. Lang was eager to rejoin the men. After all, there was just enough time for one more round of group cocksucking, butt fucking, and stress-reducing water sports before they all had to gather in the lab upstairs to meet the new recruit. Naked in the steamy group shower, he found his way to his muscle buddy Alvarez. He fell to his knees as Alvarez turned, strode forward to meet him, flexed his mammoth biceps, and shoved his meaty erect cock into Lang’s gratefully receiving mouth. Behind Lang, Private Gunst thoughtfully soothed his stinging, reddened glutes with a powerful jet stream coating of clear, clean piss. His mouth full of cock, Lang nodded gratefully up at Gunst, who returned his nod with a “Hey, it’s okay.” Lang arched his butt to receive the coating of piss all the better. He glanced over at Schumacher, who was now violently plowing Tiffany’s wide-open mouth with his own swollen firehose man meat. Schumacher hadn’t said a word. He had walked directly up to Tiffany, who swiftly went to his knees and carefully guided his lips over the shaft of the Corporal’s 11-inch penis. Schumacher was facefucking him as mercilessly as he could manage, but the young Private seemed serenely in control. As usual, he never gagged. Which made Corporal Herman Schumacher plow harder and deeper. Which prompted a satisfied smile on Tiffany’s calm, appreciative lips as he sucked with cool detachment the muscle daddy Schumacher’s violently throat-pounding large cock. After Gunst finished painting Lang’s glutes with thoughtfully applied streams of hot piss, he turned to Waring, fondled the handsome young muscleman’s leathery testicles, got down on his knees and allowed him to glide his own achingly engorged member down his eager throat. “MMMMmmmmm, it’s good!” he moaned, satisfied. “Even big boys like to suck cock,” he winked up at Waring. He smacked his lips. “If it’s big enough.” “Is mine big enough?” asked Waring as he rubbed his scalp in the streaming hot shower. “Yup,” answered Gunst, dipping in for another full-throated suck. “Sure is.” All the other musclemen were similarly at work, soaping up, sucking cock, washing armpits, lathering crotches, laughing, shouting, grunting, flexing their muscles, getting their oversized cocks sucked, or with their faces buried deeply in their buddies’ spectacular glutes. In the center of the shower, Corporal Alvarez and Private Lang were going through “Pose and Approve.” Alvarez was gliding through his finest posing routine, while below him and kneeling on the tile floor Lang licked and sucked his huge, stiff cock with hungry appreciation. “Front double bi’s,” said Alvarez. “Pow.” Meyer was dead center in the large shower room, standing on one hand on the tile floor, holding his powerful body aloft, his legs spread wide, one fist supporting his full bodyweight. He arched his butt high and smiled happily as, through the steam and roar of the water, one after another of his training buddies bent over and applied luscious, deep licks into his succulent butthole. He grinned, pumping his stiff cock with his free hand as they licked, kissed, and smacked his firm buttcheeks. Jin and Washington were now each chewing ferociously on Bogarde’s perfect, brown nipples. He roared with pleasure, and pumped himself into a mighty front lat spread. Straps of pec muscle bloomed powerfully. He turned from side to side, proudly thrusting forward each pec. His buddies chewed, licked and bit. Meanwhile, the handsome Blankenship, who had a preference for big black cock, was fiercely lathering up Washington’s enormous pole. He covered it waves of soapsuds, pumping it up and down as it rose to full girth. He glanced up at Washington, now biting Bogarde’s nipples. “Yeah, you got one big black motherfucker muscle cock!” he shouted. “You like big black cock?” roared Washington, waggling it in Blankenship’s face. “Love it!” he shouted, and washing the soap off, took it all in his mouth. “Watch him suck my cock!” Washington whooped. Obatu, soaping his armpits, laughed. He strode over to the group. “Room for another brother?” he asked, and without waiting for an answer, shoved his meat into Blankenship’s face. Blankenship smiled rapturously, and as Obatu continued to soap up, he took his cock into his mouth as well. “Most muscular,” said Obatu. “Pow. Check out dis crab.” Black veins exploded. His fists pumped together. He pushed his hips forward. His cock surged straight ahead. The two black cocks plunged in and out of Blankenship’s mouth, his tongue tracing over their shiny thick veins. The enormous Washington, the biggest man of the group of five, put his arms around Bogarde’s and Obatu’s shoulders, while on the tile beneath them Blankenship moved from cock to swaying cock, from Washington to Bogarde to Jin to Obatu and back to Washington again. Surrounded by the bodybuilders’ cocks, Blankenship sucked each erect penis deeply. He gazed at the network of veins that criss-crossed the hip muscles of each of his buddies. Their huge cocks were like jewels set in the finest of settings: lean, fat-free muscles. When he got to the handsome Asian Private Jin, he marveled once again about how a Chink could have such a huge dick. He sucked it lovingly as the other men stood closely above him, their cocks looming in his face, dripping with water and pre-cum, awaiting their turn. When he finished with Jin, he moved on to Bogarde, whose nipples were being avidly chewed with care above him by Jin and Washington. Bogarde’s cock was, of course, in great need of immediate service. No problem. It was, after all, a world of huge, looming bodybuilder cocks. And Blankenship’s favorite sport – after bodybuilding – was cocksucking Next to him knelt the dimwit Hension, his handsome face now buried deeply into the posing Corporal Alvarez’s glutes. Lang was now on his feet and posing with him, as the dark Arab Corporal Karim, behind him, licked and kissed his mighty ass as well. He caught Hension’s eyes, and, in unison, the two men buried their faces into the posing partners’ glutes. “Hey, careful, there,” said Lang. His butt still stung, and Moster’s handprints were still glowing bright red on his taut asscheeks. “Sorry, man,” said Karim. He gently licked the red hand welts, and could taste Gunst’s piss. He knew the man’s special sweet taste. Gunst had often pissed deeply into his mouth. Chad and LeFevre, soaping up themselves, moved over to Hension, whose beautiful face was deeply buried in Alvarez’s butt. “Hey, McIntyre,” called Chad, “get over here and take over for Hension!” “Don’t bother me,” said Hension. “Sure thing,” answered McIntyre, licking Meyer’s butthole. “Be there in a sec!” “What are you doing, guys?” asked Hension plaintively as Chad and LeFevre lifted him bodily from Alvarez’s glutes, carrying him into a corner of the shower. Alvarez stopped posing for a minute and looked back at them. “Hey, where you taking him?” he asked. Lang looked up. “To the rescue,” said McIntyre, now on his knees and pressing his face into Alvarez’s butt. “Oh, okay.” Alvarez turned back to Lang and continued posing. Karim had never stopped licking Lang’s ass. Chad and LeFevre were now sharing Hension’s pretty tool. “Figure you have it coming,” said LeFevre,” licking away the last remnants of the chili powder. “You guys,” said Hension, and began to wash his hair as the men cleaned his cock with their tongues and lips. Moster leaned in at the shower door. “Good work tonight, men.” He turned and headed toward the locker room door. “Thank you, sir!” the men shouted after him. Moster called back to them as he left the locker room. “No fucking tonight. No time.” “Shit!” Moans of general disappointment. “Sorry. Expect you all upstairs in the lab in 10 minutes.” “Yes, sir!” Once again, in unison. On the workout floor, alone and silent as always, the meek Dr. Irving slipped back into the room and to shut down the lights for the night. From the locker room, he could hear the splashing of the showers and the groans, moans, roars, whoops and shouts of the satisfied men as they each let loose volleys of thick, spurting cum high into the steaming air, arcing and splashing onto each other’s superbly muscled bodies. Thick cascades of semen plopped onto the tile and began flowing slowly past the men’s browned feet towards the shower’s drains. Irving walked over to the garbage pail. He glanced inside. Yep. There they were. He could see them in the half-light. He reached in amidst the wet rags of paper and extracted 18 empty aluminum capsule wrappers. Moster had probably ordered the enhancements from Zaftig particularly for tonight’s workout. He knew that by now each bodybuilder probably had already cum three or four times. By 2150 hours, they would all, to a man, be drained. Except, of course, for Sergeant Moster. He picked up the receiver of the staff phone on the wall, and pushed a button. “Facilities,” he requested. In the distance now, the men were all roaring as one. No doubt they were all spurting in unison by now. Pints and quarts of cum. “Facilities? Yeah. Irving. Right. Better put the plumber on notice. The shower drains in the main workout locker room will be clogged again tonight. They need to be cleared by 1800 hours tomorrow.” He hung up without bothering to listen to the response, turned, and walked out of the room. In the showers, the roaring was dying down to satisfied explosions of breath and more laughs, whoops and hollers. The water was turned off, and locker doors began to open. The room grew quiet as the men dressed, all thoughtful now. All thinking about the new recruit they were about to meet. Casey Rockland. In the showers, thick rivulets of cum dripped from the ceiling, walls, spigots and faucet handles, clogging the drains. It cost Zaftig thousands each month to simply to maintain the system’s burgeoning septic tanks. “It’s just one more thing I didn’t really plan for,” he would sigh to Moster, who would nod, straight-faced. "It's always something," Moster would reply, absently scratching his bulge.

The following is a section from one from the books I have written for the self publishing website Lulu.com and as it deals with a subject matter that members are experienced in, I am hoping that members will critique it before I send it off. The target audience is a family audience, hence the lack of things that are usually seen on this site. It has been a decade since I last was a Musketeer, sadly time has not been kind to my faithful steed Sandy and I am desperate to help him continue in that role, even if it means meeting with someone who is alleged to have communed with the devil. “Well, hello there” said a voice, “enjoying my researches are you?” I span round, drew my sword and shouted “Your evil magic cannot harm me, I am a Musketeer Lieutenant and…” “You’ve come to see me, am I right?” continued the voice, “Here, let me add some light to the situation” and with that he snapped his fingers and every candle in the room lit up and revealed him as a rather old person resembling any number of brilliant, if slightly oddball inventors. “Alexi?” I asked “The same” he replied with a smile and noticing my sword said “Let me guess, purveyor of the dark arts, communes with the devil?” I nodded, sheathing my sword. “Yes” he smiled, nodding, “I suppose I do let those rumours get a little out of control” It was becoming abundantly clear that this wasn’t a wizard or indeed a warlock, Alexi was just another of the many people trying to bring the seventeenth century kicking and screaming into the modern era and as a person with the slight scientific bent, I felt I could trust him. “So Henri, what I can do for you?” he asked “You know who I am?” I gasped “Well, of course I know” I said and pointed to a bowl of water in front of him and added mystically “I see all and know all!” and then smiled, “besides how many English Musketeers do you know?” “He’s as batty as a fruitcake” I thought to myself, which of course meant he was absolutely harmless and I apologised for drawing my sword on him. “Oh, don’t worry about that” he smiled, “happens to the best of us. Now, let’s see if this water can tell me why you’re here” and he tapped his bowl and as I watched I gasped as an image appeared in the bowl of Sandy’s drenching. “But that’s impossible” I breathed. “Nothing’s impossible” he smiled, “you just have to know what to do. So, let me guess, you’d like me to take a few years off Sandy right?” “Can you do that?” I asked “Can I do that?” he laughed, and then stopped, “Can I do that?” he asked and scratched his head, “Of course I can!” he added and leapt out of his chair and started gathering all manner of ingredients listing them as he went and started to throw them into a cauldron that was in the middle of the room. “Newt’s Eyes” he said, “Snakeskin, Boiled toadwarts” “Bolied Toadwarts?” I asked “Yes” came the reply as he threw more ingredients in “just everyday ingredients that you have lying around the house!” “Your house maybe” I thought as I peered into the cauldron, “but certainly not mine” and asked him “And this mixture will do what?” “You’ll see” chuckled Alexi as he stirred the mixture and a short while later filled a bottle with the green coloured liquid and handed it to me. “Give this to Sandy and be amazed!” he smiled I gave the bottle to Sandy who sniffed it and turned his nose up at it. “Oh come on, it’s not that bad!” I said and sniffed it myself before adding, “Wooh! I stand corrected” but Sandy was insistent. “Sandy” I said, “It’s either this or permanent retirement and if you retired then….then I would as well. You are my faithful steed and I simply would refuse to be a Musketeer without you at my side!” Sandy looked down and then at the bottle and slowly opened his mouth. “That’s the spirit” I said and poured the bottle into his mouth. He suddenly neighed and reared up as if in great pain. “SANDY!” I exclaimed and then roared at Alexi, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” “Wait and see” he chuckled As Sandy continued to neigh in agony I wanted to hug my faithful steed and wail “Sandy, I am so sorry. I should have believed Aramis” when Sandy started to paw the floor like a bull waiting to charge and then reared up again. “Get down” shouted Alexei and grabbing me threw me and himself to the floor and as we did I felt a wave of energy pass through me and what sounded like an explosion. I quickly got up and stared in disbelief. Where Sandy had been there now stood a massive shire horse at least thirty hands tall shaking its head and breathing hard. It looked around as if unsure of where it was and then realised something, held its head up high and neighed louder than I had ever heard a horse neigh before. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO SANDY?” I bellowed to Alexei “I’ve done nothing!” he said, “I have simply done what you asked me to do. I have regenerated Sandy!” I held my head in my hands and said slowly, “I asked you to make Sandy not have to retire, not destroy him in some kind of weird biological experiment and replace him with a shire horse!” “But I haven’t!” he said, “That’s Sandy!” and pointed to the horse who was now trotting around in a state of sheer joy. “Er, excuse me” I said, in a tone of voice similar to high school girls in California, “that is never Sandy in a million years” and went next to the shire horse. “For starters, I’ll never be able to mount him, his saddle is taller than me, then there is the small matter that Sandy was a medium sized horse and this is a monster, and thirdly, WHERE’S SANDY?” “There!” replied Alexei pointing to the horse. “LOOK!” I bellowed, trying my darnest to be polite and failing, “I want my horse back, the horse that my “father” gave me all those years ago, the horse that I rode from my home to Mearne, the horse that was insulted twice on that journey, the horse…” Suddenly, the Shire horse stopped trotting and tapped the floor three times with its hoof. “Sorry” I said, “the horse that was insulted three times on that journey, the horse…” and then I stopped. “Three times?” I asked softly and cast my mind back to that journey to Mearne and as I remembered a dawning realisation came to me. “I was insulted three times on the road to Mearne” and turned to the horse, “Sandy, is…is that you?” The shire lowered his head to me and gave me a big lick. “SANDY” I exclaimed and gasped in amazement at what Sandy now was. The biggest horse I had ever seen in my life. As I walked around him, I breathed “Wow, what would happen if a person drank that mixture?” “That’s a very good question” said Alexi, “fancy giving it a go?” “What?” I asked “Well, not that mixture exactly” he said, “that’s only really for animals, but I’ve got something bubbling upstairs that might just tickle your fancy” and with that opened a door and gestured me to follow. I was in two minds. Was this man a very early biologist who had stumbled on a way of regenerating old and tired material into young material or was, as Aramis had suggested, a wizard? Then he said something that sealed the deal. “Follow me” he said as he went upstairs, “and you will become stronger than Porthos himself!” “Oh yeah!” I said to myself, “that’ll do it!” and followed him up a narrow flight of steps and towards another room that he unlocked the door to. In the middle of it was a massive cauldron with a green gloop bubbling away. “Right” said Alexi, “first of all dip your sword in that cauldron”. I did as instructed and the gloop suddenly turned bright silver. “Excellent, that proves that you’re a good man” he said, adding, “This potion is only given to those who are pure of heart, brave and courageous” and with that he took a bowl and scooped some of the potion and handed it to be saying “Congratulations, Henri, you’re literally one in a million!” As I took the bowl I looked at it with caution, “and if I drink this I’ll become…?” and lowered my head to indicate Sandy. “Not quite” he said, “this is just the first stage but when all the stages are complete, you will become the most powerful man on Earth!” Well, when you are given that opportunity you don’t pass it up and so I downed the contents of the bowl in one and then pulled a face. “Urghhh! Garlic!” I grimaced. “Yes” Alexi replied, “perhaps there is a bit too much in there” and taking the bowl said, “Now, sheath your sword and we’ll go outside!” I stood next to Sandy who was still overjoyed with his new found strength and power and followed Alexi’s instructions to the letter. “Now, unsheathe your sword and hold it as high as you can. Excellent, now, how would you describe being a Musketeer?” It was a strange question but I explained everything that I had done. Travelling to England to return the diamond studs to the Queen, Capturing the Purple Peregrine, restoring the King to the throne. “All very impressive” Alexi said, “but could you condense that into a single phrase at all?” I thought for a moment and said “Well, I suppose you could say that we all do everything we do for the honour of France!” No sooner had I said that then I felt unable to move and heard a rumble. Looking up I could see storm clouds gathering and that meant only one thing, a thunderstorm, and here I was holding a metal object in the air. I could feel the positive ions surging away from me making me prime target for any lightning bolt. I tried to shout “Alexi, help me!” but I couldn’t open my mouth or do anything and sure enough, a second later I was hit by lighting. Now, conventional wisdom says that being struck by lighting is the most effective way of being killed and as someone who studies the weather, I know that whether ever I hear a rumble of thunder I instantly unplug the phone to ensure that no strikes can enter the house, however instead of screaming in agony, I felt empowered. It was impossible to describe what was happening to me, but I felt big, strong and powerful and I was started to get the impression that I was growing not only in bravery, but stature as well. Just as quickly as it started, the surge ended and I roared “I HAVE THE HONOUR” before coming to and gasping for breath saying “Whoa, what was that?” “That” chuckled Alexi “was the power of the elements combining with that potion to create the Ultimate Musketeer” and went back to the cave entrance and brought back a full length mirror that he placed in front of me and said “What do you think?” As I stared at the reflection in disbelief, I was lost for words. Where once stood a slightly overweight community councillor from Wales dressed in a Musketeer’s outfit now stood a person who resembled any number of strongmen, power lifters and bodybuilders as to make one wonder if he had just come straight back from a contest. I was still wearing my Musketeer boots but the rest of me beggared belief. My legs, if you could call them that, looked more like tree trunks now and were topped off with something that resembled a pair of hot pants made out of the same material as my boots. Above that was what I first mistook to be a cobbled path and thinking “Okay, why have I got stones in my stomach?” but as I rubbed them I realised what they were and looked at Alexi with a combination of astonishment and delight. “ABS!” I cried, “I’ve got a pack!” And what a pack! Most fitness models I had seen online were boasting about their six pack, some bodybuilders had through years of training had an eight pack, but they had nothing on me as I counted ten distinct muscles all crammed into the tiny space between my waist and my chest and that’s when I noticed it. My chest wasn’t a chest, it was a monster of a chest and was being kept in place, but only just I thought, by a massive breastplate made of the same leather as my boots with the symbol of French authority emblazoned in the middle. A fleur de lys. And as for my arms, it was pretty obvious who would be asked to open those pesky lids that refused to come off jam bottles. “Oh, Alexi!” I said, on the verge of tears, “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you” and ran over to him and picked him up with ease, “I have dreamed about being as strong as Porthos for years and you have made it all come true. How can I ever repay you?” “You can start!” he gasped, “by not hugging me!” Realising that because I was so darned massive, my strength not only overwhelmed that of the Titan who was my best friend but probably even Hercules, I suddenly stopped and lowered Alexi to the ground and started to pace. “Is something wrong?” he asked “Alexi” I began, “I cannot thank you enough for what you have done, but if I go back to Musketeer Headquarters looking like this, what will become of Porthos? He’s my best friend and if he sees me like this, he’ll probably think that his strength isn’t needed any more, resign from the Musketeers and I will have lost a friend. Can you suggest anything?” Alexi smiled, “The Ultimate Musketeer is just that, the ultimate, and only to be used in dire emergencies” and with that pointed to my sword which appeared to be glowing. Gesturing me to point my sword at a rock he told me to say what I had said and as I repeated “I have the honour” a beam of energy shot from the sword and destroyed the rock into a thousand pieces. “Every time you become the Ultimate Musketeer” he said, “there is a small amount left over. That energy can be used as a weapon or can be used to turn another person into a smaller version of you. I cannot think of a better person to receive that energy than the Living Titan can you?” I smiled and imagined me and Porthos wrestling each other in our ultimate forms and then realised, “That means I cannot tell everyone who I am can I?” “They said that you were clever and they were right” replied Alexi, “You can only tell three people about this gift I have given you besides me. Sandy doesn’t count as he can’t talk, so Porthos would be number one, which means you can tell two other people. Remember though, whoever you tell must swear to secrecy never to reveal your gift so choose carefully” “I will” I said. “Marvellous” said Alexi and gestured for me to raise my sword again, “now time for the Ultimate Musketeer to prepare for his next adventure. Simply say “Thy honour is preserved” and you’ll go back to your usual English reserved self” and with that he chuckled. As I did the whole process reversed and as I stood there gasping from the effort I sheathed my sword and smiled. “Remember” said Alexei, as Sandy helped me to mount him, “Only tell three people about your new powers” and with that I bowed and said “Alexei, I have made many friends during my time as a Musketeer, I would consider it an honour if I could count you amongst them!” Alexei bowed and said “And I would be delighted to accept your friendship” and with that snapped his fingers and he simply vanished into thin air, leaving me and Sandy both mystified. Was he an alchemist, a vanguard of modern science or was Aramis right the whole time? Please be honest in your comments and if you feel it needs a little bit more (remembering that this is aimed at a family audience) then please do say so

Part 1-The Sexual Chemistry is here: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/2716-the-construction-projectthe-sexual-chemistrywhos-worshipping-who/ The Construction Project sequel: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/4583-constructing-more-projects-and-building-bigger-men-muscle-genie/?hl=%2Bconstructing+%2Bmore+%2Bprojects Who's Worshipping Who? sequel: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/4503-to-worship-or-not-to-worship-another-admirer-enters-muscle-genie/?hl=worship The gloriously hairy Iraqi stud’s massive muscles are eventually too much for his white costar’s own as he makes Dallas submit to him after several minutes of rolling around on the ransacked set. They continue to ignore everything their director Francesco says as he just sits there with a bewildered look on his face. He doesn’t seem all that interested in seeing the two muscle studs doing wrestling moves or trying to overpower each other in any way. ‘Guys…..come on. It was hot at first, but you both are now way too large to market for our audience. I was hoping that putting you two together, my two biggest stars, could result in the biggest selling video ever, but now I realize that you could both model for COLT and not for my company.’ The two huge studs stop what they are doing and sit up to look straight at him. Dallas decides to get up and waddles over to the director to stand in front of him breathing heavily and dripping with sweat. He has a big smile on his face and as he bounces his pecs. ‘And what is wrong with making a hot growth video with some amazing sex thrown in Fran? I think you have always had a thing for both of us otherwise you wouldn’t have waited until now to put us in the same scene together. Besides, you could become a star yourself Mr. director. That pooch of yours could look really hot with some big thick slabs of beef attached to it don’t you think?’ *reaches in to rub Francesco’s belly lightly making the director lean back a little* The director seems a bit embarrassed but also a tad bit aroused at the same time. He pushes Dallas’s big burly hand away and tries to get up, but the white porn star won’t let him. Abdul stands up from where he is sitting and rubs down his incredibly thick hairy muscled body for a few seconds before walking over beside Francesco to rub his huge throbbing cock against the director’s face. The stunned man falls back in his chair and lands on the ground as it breaks. The two big studs follow him down and start rubbing him in the crotch and chest making him moan very lightly. Dallas then jumps back up to turn the camera around and hits the record button on it. He returns down with the other two men and rubs his cock up against Francesco’s face and slaps Abdul’s cock as well. The director can’t resist any longer as he grabs both rods and starts licking them both tasting the sweet precum oozing out both cockheads. The two behemoths growl and start making out with each other while Francesco shoves his tongue down inside the arab’s foreskin, chewing it slowly and moaning deeply. Abdul’s incredibly thick furry body is something the director always loved, but never acted on it before because he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the way the man acted around him. Feeling like he is being neglected, Dallas shoves his cock in the side of Francesco’s mouth and starts humping it, gliding it in and out with a slow and steady rhythm. The director gags as Abdul follows suit by shoving his thick hairy pole down inside Francesco’s mouth as they both fuck his throat at the same time making him have to drool huge strings of spit. The juices drip down both cocks making them both grunt loudly. Francesco rubs it up and down both shafts at the same time to get them nice and lubed since he knows that both men don’t want him to stop sucking as they hump his mouth. He watches intently as both ballsacs begin swelling up in front of his face and changing to a blue color. He moans loudly knowing that he will get a cum bath within a short amount of time. He pulls both rods out to run his tongue along their slits and can taste some of their pre starting to change over to cum. He stops sucking them interchangeably long enough for them both to groan as their poles start pumping their seed all over Francesco’s face and head. The thick gooey wads paint his face in white as he gasps for air feeling the seed river trying to seep its way inside him. The huge studs shove their cocks back inside his mouth and continue dumping their loads down his throat until they are completely depleted. When they finally pull out of him, he chokes several times losing some of it on the floor before trying to get up from the ground to catch his breath. He is finding it very difficult to do so however as Abdul reaches down to pick him up and carry him over to the ravaged set. Dallas spins the camera around still recording so he can join them. Abdul puts him down to grab some sheets that are lying to the side still in decent condition even after the two studs destroyed the bed. He finds an empty area and lays them on the ground so he can get down on the floor. ‘Dallas, go make sure the camera is positioned on us. *gets down on the sheet and looks up at Francesco* Come down here Fran and worship me man so I can fucking watch you transform into one of us. You won’t have to be sitting in a chair anymore after this film, I guarantee it.’ Dallas rushes over and points the camera at them before going back to join the other two. He starts to take Francesco’s shoes off, but Abdul motions for him to stop. The director immediately starts to bury his head into Abdul’s chest and moans deeply as he loses himself in the hot arab’s musk and masculinity. The hairy stallion looks over at Dallas and smiles. The white stud isn’t quite sure why he isn’t allowed to take anything off Francesco, but is willing to just let it be since there must be a reason. It isn’t long before the two behemoths can hear the director wincing. His body starts sweating profusely underneath his clothes which prompts the two men to growl knowing it is close to happening. Francesco stops licking Abdul’s body to look up at him in anguish. The big man grins. ‘RAWR FRAN! Fucking blow up for us man! You have double the power inside you so you should absolutely explode.’ The director is unable to utter a word as he feels himself starting to grow. His body starts flexing immediately putting a lot of stress on his clothes. His shirt shreds down his back getting the attention of both behemoths as they can see the muscles doubling up on each other. Within seconds, his entire outfit is being obliterated by mounds of sheer steel stretching and pulling his body bigger and wider than ever before. Francesco is getting noticeably more dominant with each additional inch of muscle being added. He goes into gawd mode roaring with excitement feeling himself changing into a new man. *still growing* ‘MORE! MORE! FUCKKK!’ *passes 400 pounds* Both Abdul and Dallas grab a hold of his new 16” dong and starts drinking the honey that is pouring out of it. The giant though scurries backwards away from them to stop them from trying to swallow any more of it. He manages to get up onto his feet before they both try to tackle him back down. He manages to push them away from him as he finishes his growth cycle. He is now trying to escape from them to prevent the possibility of them outgrowing him. ‘NOOO! *voice is noticeably deeper* You are both trying to get the upper-hand on me like before. Stay the fuck away from me! I swear I will hurt both of you and I don’t want to do that because…..you are right Abdul, I like you a lot, but this fucking body *rubs his chest as he continues to move backwards*, I have to stay bigger than you.’ He continues to leak his precum all over the ground as he finds a wall in behind the rubble from the set. Abdul tries to grab a hold of his legs and pull him down but gets kicked in the process. Dallas tries to follow in behind and shoves a hand up inside the hole of the hulking brute. Francesco agonizes as he starts punching the wall and cracking it until pieces start falling all around him. Dallas tries to get underneath his cock to catch the honey flowing, but gets a warning. ‘AHHHH please don’t Dallas…..I will pound you if you keep trying to make me cum.’ Francesco’s rage grows deeper as he pounds the wall in until it finally gives way and hits the white giant on the back as it starts crashing to the ground. Dallas accidentally pulls his hand out of the director’s anus and watches in disgust as the behemoth starts to waddle away from him through the wall opening. He can’t seem to get up from where he is now sitting and leans up against a pile of rubble. Abdul though runs past him and jumps through the opening to chase after the hulk. He starts yelling at him to get his attention. ‘HEY FRAN! I’M COMING TO GET YOU BIG STUD! YOU MIGHT BE BIGGER, BUT I CAN DEFINITELY OUTRUN YOU!’ The thick arab picks up speed as he closes the gap on the director down a nearby alley in the middle of the city. He can see Francesco stop to catch his breath and makes his move placing all of his power into his immense legs. Before the giant hulk can start running again, Abdul grabs him around the waist and pulls him down to the ground. Both men are sweating buckets practically as they lay there exhausted. Abdul gets on top of him and laughs as he punches the hulk’s chest in a dominant manner . ‘I told you…..*pants*……I would catch you……*pants*……now fuck me like you have always wanted to Fran. No resistance…..*pants*……no qualms…..*pants*…..I know you want to fill me up badly. You say you don’t want me to grow again…..*pants*……but I fucking know otherwise. *winks*’ He grabs the director’s massive dick and slowly slides it inside his hole. He hops on it a few times as it gets it further inside before he begins humping the hulk and punching him in the chest again like he was doing. With their insatiable desire not dissipating anytime soon, the process could continue indefinitely.

Welcome to The Muscle Finalist Bio page! Here you can read up on each of our contestants and choose who YOU want to see become the first winner of The Muscle! ============================================================================================= Contestant 1: Adam Age: 19 Weight: 180 Occupation: Student Lifting for: 4 years Personal statement: Hey all. My name's Adam and I am hoping to be chosen as the winner of The Muscle! I've been lifting for a little over 4 years now and it's nearly become my whole life! I'm a student but I'm barely passing most of my classes as I spend all my time either lifting, eating, sleeping or thinking about getting bigger! I want to become the top name in bodybuilding so this seems like the best way to do it! I've only recently gotten into muscle worship from others as I spent most of my "free" time worshiping myself! It was an amazing experience the first time though and I've been hungry for it even more! Hope you guys choose me each week and I promise that I will do my best to prove why I should be The Muscle! Erotic Story: Um... well it's a bit embarrassing but one of the hottest things for me was after working out at the campus gym another guy who was built almost as much as I was came into the shower after me and basically attacked me... not physically, but sexually. Came right in and started feeling me up and stroking my cock. Started telling me how hot I was and how much he had been wanting to do this for weeks now and finally got the courage to do so. Well he had courage alright, liquid courage... between the strong smell and his quick work to my cock, I felt a little drunk myself! He started asking me to flex for him and show him how big I was. I was already horned up from my workout and this wasn't the first time I'd been worshiped by a guy so I figured, why not? I started by flexing my arm for him and he attacked it like a ravenous wolf! Licking and kissing it, moaning all the while he was stroking my cock. After a couple pumps I pulled him up to my face where he started gabbing about how hot I was, how he couldn't wait to see me even bigger. Well nothing gets me harder or more turned on than the idea of growth so I started giving it back to him. "Oh yeah?" I said "You want me to get even bigger than this? That's a 19 inch arm you were sucking on... bigger than most guys get and you want to see it even BIGGER!?" He was moaning even harder now and nodding his head telling me he wanted to see it bigger than his head. "Well let's compare shall we?" I said. "Let's see just how much your head compares to this gun of mine." And I slammed his face back into it. Pumping my bi into his mouth forcing him to open it as wide as he could. "Yeah... lick that huge gun. Bet you'll be even hungrier when it pumps up to 20" I flexed hard into his face before relaxing it "then 21" another pump "then 22! GRRRR!" I was fucking rock hard now and couldn't control myself. He started to thrash a bit but I didn't really notice as I was too turned on now. I pulled my arm back, turned him around, slammed him into the tile and started fucking him. Was really stupid as I didn't have a condom but I was possessed. I grabbed his hands and pinned them to the wall above his head and just impaled him in the first thrust. He was really moaning now and yelling too as I mercilessly fucked him pinning him to the wall. "Yeah this is what you wanted right? Being fucked by this big teen muscle stud? Feel my thick pecs against your back pressing you into the wall. Can't wait for them to get even bigger... want them so huge I can't see my feet over them... yeah fucking massive teen beast..." Over and over it went. No idea how long it was but I couldn't hold on much after that and rammed into him so hard I lifted him off the floor for the first blast of my cum into him. After he came back down I backed up a step and wrapped my arms around him and was bear hugging him while I shot into him. Each shot made me squeeze his torso into mine until I was finally spend and pulled out of him. When I could finally think straight again, I looked down to see that there was quite a bit of blood. At first I thought he was just a virgin, but then I saw his mouth was bleeding. Then I realized that I had broken one of his teeth while I was flexing my arm in his mouth. He was out of it and passed out so I left. Found out later that he was woken up by the janitor and taken to the campus nurse. He had to get a false tooth in the next couple days and seemed a bit weary of me after that, but I could tell that he was still really turned on by me. He never approached me after that but I could tell that if he ever got really drunk again, he'd come find me for an encore performance.

Chapters 7, 8 Precis so far: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 18-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable need to receive muscle worship. Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his growing need to receive both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decade-long Project, itself only now approaching its full potential. Chapter 7: Training Night 1: Good for Morale October 20th, 2021 1900 Hours The gym floor was buzzing with activity. Each man had a 5-gallon aluminum jug of water from which he regularly took enormous gulps, occasionally pausing to drench both himself and his training partners as needed to stave off the effects of the heat. All wore specially designed army green jockstraps. Regulation jocks were hardly adequate for their needs, and all 19 men (and especially Sergeant Moster) required XXX-large custom-fit pouches. Pendulously bulging, sweat, cum, and piss-stained, even these firm-gripping supersized mesh pouches could barely contain the musclemen’s super-sized genitalia. Gently curving cock shafts plunged from heavily veined, thin-skinned pelvic girdles on each man, leading to jaw-breaking cockheads. The jocks hugged the men’s cocks tightly, providing only barely adequate covering. Moster’s policy was that shorts and sweatpants were unnecessarily encumbering. All around the room, as the men moved from weight to weight, their mountainous packages swayed freely back and forth. On most of the men, the top 5 to 6 inches of their veiny cocks were visible, plunging into their over-burdened pouches. The men’s powerful, deeply striated glutes were fully exposed in back. Colorful do-rags, thick cable socks and black army boots completed their attire. On the floor, workout buddies Private Dan Gunst and Private Steve Waring were spotting each other through a sixth set of murderous curls. 24, 6'-10", 375 pounds, blond, huge, sporting a severe crew cut, and with a big nose and oversized hands, Gunst was a decidedly homely muscle giant, packed with imposing hardcore brawn. His bullish traps sloped massively from his 24” neck. The man’s 27-3/4 inch biceps were second only in girth and mass to Sgt. Moster’s, though he hadn’t yet attained the shapely cannonball peaks of Corporals Schumacher, Obatu, Blankenship and Alvarez. At 3.8% bodyfat he tended towards a thin coat of luminous bloat in his 375-pound physique; he was all the same, super-humanly powerful, and during his training sessions the bloat seemed to melt into a latticework of shrink-wrapped vascularity. His partner, the 26-year old Steve Waring, was uncommonly good-looking, if, at a mere 276 pounds of raw muscle, not nearly as big as Gunst. He was, however the far more ripped bodybuilder, having been in the program 2 years longer. His vascularity was astonishing, a complex map of thick, dizzying, zig-zag veins that criss-crossed his magnificent physique. Square-jawed, dimpled and brown-eyed, he always had a neatly groomed 2-day beard. As expected for a leaner man, Waring’s particular beauty lay in his batwing lat spread and chiseled abs, which tapered radically into a mere 29” waist. Cobbled, veiny abs lead down to his fearsome bulge. Now Waring was up. He tied on a pair of dirty wristbands and cinched them tightly, licked his lips, approached the 160-pound weight, and looked up at Gunst with a half smile. “What’re you waitin’ for? C’mon, get moving,” said Gunst impatiently. “It’s my third set.” “I know. C’mon, man, you’re stalling.” “You know what I want.” Waring winked and grinned, and his dimples broadened deeply. Gunst rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Jesus. You and your third set mantras.” He leaned into Waring, cupped his palm, and roughly took the jock pouch bearing his partner’s heavy balls into his calloused hand. He flicked Waring’s leathery testicles with his thick thumb and with strong fingers stroked the curling cock shaft tucked into the jock. Waring closed his eyes and exploded breath. Gunst fondled the cock, feeling where the 11” flaccid shaft coiled into a sagging downward-pointing firehose U-shape. His own cock began to stiffen as the pouch bearing Waring’s junk began to expand under his touch. He gave a last thumb flick and stepped back. “Yeah!” shouted Waring, and he squatted, grabbed the weight, stood, and reeled off 15 perfectly executed curls. The veins in his biceps expanded and contracted powerfully, eddying currents of blood in a river of muscle. 40 feet away at the incline bench press, Privates Aja Jin, Reed Bogarde and Derek Washington were taking turns doing dumbbell flyes with 125 pound weights. Ginger-haired Bogarde was up, while black muscle giant Private Washington spotted him, and the Asian Private Jin muttered hyper-masculine, mono-syllabic bon mots of encouragement. "C'mon. Get big. Get huge. C'mon man. Push. We're right here." The three heavyweights were generally together. If they weren’t closely supervised, they’d spend more time than absolutely necessary on pec workouts. A year before they had petitioned Moster to be allowed to wear their prized brass chained nipple clamps during their training. Moster had refused at first, but after they appealed to Dr. Zaftig, he finally relented. “The pain inspires them,” Zaftig told him. Moster had to agree that this one time, he had been wrong to withhold his approval. And once again, it was good for morale. The chain to Bogarde’s clamps was draped over the t-shirt and lay across his mammoth, boyishly freckled pecs. He’d completed 11 reps seamlessly, but was now pausing, his arms open wide, the dumbbells held aloft. “Do, it, man,” he growled, and as Moster watched, Private Jin reached over and with gentle, adroit firmness, tugged slightly on the chain. Bogarde’s face contorted with pain. "Push, asswipe!" screamed Jin. Bogarde completed the set. “Thanks, buddy,” he breathed, as he slammed the weights to the floor and sat up. “Privates!” Moster called out. “Remember I want to see you remove those clamps every 10 minutes for an exact period of 20 more minutes!” “Yes, sir,” said Washington, about to take his seat on the bench for his set. “By my watch, it has been more than 11 minutes. Those clamps come off. Now.” “Shit,” muttered Washington, but he duly turned to Private Jin. “Take care of this for me, and I’ll do for you.” “Okay,” said Jin. He lifted Washington’s t-shirt, and gently unscrewed the clamp on the left nipple. Instantly Washington’s face contorted with pain. Jin leaned in and tenderly licked the swelling brown nipple with his tongue for a few moments. Washington nodded, and Jin repeated it for the right nipple. “I’m good,” he said. Jin lifted his shirt and Washington returned the favor, caressing Jin’s nipples with his tongue as he removed each biting clamp. “Hey, what about me?” Bogarde grinned, slipping off his t-shirt. His large nipples pointed heavily downward, with lusciously round, perfect aureoles. He pumped his 58” ripped chest fully, fists at his side, and stood smiling expectantly as his two muscle buddies moved into his side, their heads to Bogarde’s chest, each manning a clamped nipple. For Private Bogarde, the only good thing about the unclamping was the minute of stimulation he received from his buddies to keep the excruciating pain he so adored from making him instantly cum into his overstuffed jockstrap. Once he came, his partners knew the chest workout would be effectively derailed for a good 15 minutes, and so to prevent such time wasting, both men were inclined to be extra attentive. Over time, they developed a routine. Together the two bodybuilders carefully unscrewed the clamps, and swiftly leaned in to kiss, lick, bite, stroke, and caress Bogarde’s freed, erect nipples. Bogarde moaned, his eyes rolling to the ceiling, his cock now swelling threateningly in his jockstrap. “Shit,” he moaned, and his buddies glanced down at the straining pouch. His mushroom-round penis head poked heavily over the top and began to climb up his abs. Jin and Washington knew that he might shoot his load at any moment. The two double-timed their nipple licks. After a minute, their tender administrations allowed him to regain control. He nodded – he was okay – and they backed away. Satisfied, Bogarde pumped his pecs to their fullest size and inspected them both closely, nodding with serious, unsmiling self-approval. Wet with spit, his stiffened nipples bloomed. “Freaky,” he breathed. His buddies nodded. “Awesome pecs,” said Jin. “Awesome.” Bogarde stuffed his receding cock back into his jock, and winked at Moster. Moster watched. When it was clear Private Bogarde was past danger, he called out again. “Back to your work. You have twenty more minutes before you can put those damn clamps on again.” The men nodded dutifully. Washington sat, grabbed a dumbbell in each hand, hoisted them to his knees, leaned back, and effortlessly pushed them both to the ceiling. His chest expanded mightily. Bogarde shouted the count. “1! 2! 3!” Jin spotted, his powerful hands lightly meeting Washington’s elbows with each rep. For a moment, Bogarde fondled his smarting nipples tenderly. He caught Moster’s stern eye and, still counting Washington’s reps, nodded sheepishly and slipped back into his sopping t-shirt. Corporals Rene LeFevre, Tony Chad and Private Chris Hension were supersetting between bent-over single-arm rows and military presses. The massively muscled corporals, both in their mid-30’s, were the compound practical jokers. Their perfect foil was the slightly dopey 22-year old, 260-pound superheavyweight Private Hension, a square-jawed, curly-haired, dreamily handsome inductee who had only been admitted into the ranks of The Nineteen from the cadet squad six months before. Hension's face was so unusually beautiful that he was catnip for all who gazed upon him. With his deep blue eyes, perfectly square jaw, high cheekbones, imposing Roman nose, thick eyebrows, short curly black hair, powerful young physique and endearing, gap-toothed smile, he looked like a hyper muscular refugee from some crazy TigerBeat boy band. Teen muscles personified, and unusually huge, though he was 3 years past his teens already. His hazing was not quite over. Tonight he was burning from the red-hot chili powder LeFevre and Chad had worked into the folds of his jockstrap. Early in the workout he had waddled with his bodybuilder’s muscle-laden stride over to the 50-gallon water cooler, pulled down his jock, and poured a quart of refreshingly cold water onto his stinging red shaft. Every ten minutes he had to return to the cooler as his P-21 enhanced, ever-growing penis began burning anew. He couldn’t figure it out and was embarrassed. The fabric of his jock was now transparent with wetness, and the crimson outlines of his snake-coiled penis could be seen glowing painfully. LeFevre and Chad hid their grins innocently as a baffled Hension trudged back towards them, his fingers gently probing and rearranging his drooping big package for maximum comfort. “Something the matter, Private?” asked LeFevre. Hension nodded. “My junk hurts,” he said. He still wasn’t entirely used to the newly achieved girth of his organ. “And it itches.” “You keepin’ it clean?” “Sure.” He stuck his hand in his jock. “It’s getting too big. It don’t fit in these jocks.” “How big?” LeFevre winked at Chad. “I ain’t measured.” “Really?” “You lie.” “Okay, it’s past 10 inches now.” “About the medium point, then.” “You’re probably jerkin’ off too much.” “All that new size. Kinda hot, right?” “Gotta wipe all that jism off after you shoot, son.” “I keep it clean,” Hension protested. “Okay,” said Chad. “We can take of that later for you.” “Thanks,” said Hension, and then he noted the wicked gleam in Chad’s eyes. “Oh, you assholes,” he whined. “What did you do?” His buddies began to roar. Furious, Hension grabbed a 200-pound dumbbell and flew through a set of punishing one arm bent-over rows. His wide back roiled with shifting mountains of muscle, and as he jerked and lifted, his damp wife-beater gradually crept up to reveal his hardened, vulnerable butt, pumping up and down, undulating with each rep. A red handprint from a private discipline session with Sergeant Moster the night before still glowed on the right buttcheek. And the men laughed even harder. “You got it coming and going!” said LeFevre. Hension slammed the weight into the mat, turned abruptly and placed his big hands protectively against his ass. Then he grinned. “Yeah, yeah, it’s funny, so go laugh!” Inside his jock, his stinging member twitched. Private Hension liked humiliation. In fact, there was nothing he liked better, and both Chad and LeFevre were onto it. As far as they were concerned, the handsome Private’s hazing would continue indefinitely. Just two weeks before, Corporal Chad had hacked into Hension’s private PC and found links to dominatrix S&M websites on Hension’s private PC, with cum-stained downloaded jpegs and pngs of leather-clad, spike-heeled mistresses, face-slapping hapless, undersized men. Mixed in with the images were pictures of a huge muscleman tied up with ropes and chains, a rubber ball in his mouth and an enormous butt plug shoved up his anus. Hension’s private fantasy – and he was a little embarrassed about it, which was only good manners – was to get his face slapped, viciously and unrelentingly, by beautiful, affronted, enraged women. He dreamed of being caught sucking Alvarez’s massive cock, and being interrupted, and hauled to his feet by a beautiful blonde mistress of discipline, who would slap his handsome face repeatedly, leaving welting, bright red, stinging handprints on his clean-shaven cheeks. His head would whip from left to right, from right to left, under her powerful bitch slaps. Happy tears would roll down his face onto his stinging cheeks. “Aw, baby…” he’d cry, pretending to be in pain. “Don’t slap me!” And his mighty cock would also whip from side to side. “You deserve to get your face slapped, you filthy muscle slut!” SLAP. And meanwhile, Alvarez would drop to his knees and lovingly administer skillful oral to his massive cock. This dream of slapping punishment from angry mistresses filled his nightly jerk off fantasies. Chad printed up a few and privately slipped them to LeFevre, who laughed devilishly. “Someone’s been in my room playing with my computer,” Hension complained that night at dinner. The two feigned innocence. “Why, how can you tell?” asked Chad innocently. “Because the asswipe left it on.” “That might have been you.” “Nope. The asswipe left it on at a website I like. I would never do that.” The men roared. Hension pouted. “Don’t worry, baby face. Maybe some day soon on a field trip, we can set up a surprise for you, now that we know what you like.” Hension brightened. “Really?” he asked hopefully. “We’ll see if you’re a good boy. Why don’t you come by for some posing practice tonight?” “O—okay,” he said, shooting a furtive look at Corporal Alvarez and Private Lang, quietly sharing a table on the other side of the dining room. Chad caught it and for an instant was jealous. He knew Hension longed to be a part of Alvarez and Lang’s notorious “Pose and Approve” nightly sessions. Private Robert Lang was a younger version face and body look-alike for his buddy, Corporal Julio Alvarez. The same exact height, the two bodybuilders kept their bodies shaved, and might easily have been mistaken for one another at a distance, if it weren’t for Alvarez’s neatly trimmed mustache. Alvarez also boasted the same brutal muscles, the same sweep to his triceps, the same broad back, and the same peerless baseball biceps. Older, wiser, and a touch serene about his muscles, he and Lang were like brothers. Brothers, however, they weren’t, and they exhibited no instinctive physical filial reticence with one another. Lang, standing 5’ – 10” and weighing in at 285 pounds, was dark, serious, extraordinarily handsome, and brutally built. Secretly unsure of himself, he sought approval whenever he could, a little mortified by the beauty of his face. He had pronounced horseshoe triceps of uncommonly full sweep, an impressively broad back, and, as Alvarez noted, a beautifully rounded muscle bubblebutt graced with an almost horizontal butt shelf. To help bolster Lang’s flagging self-confidence, Alvarez – without question the alpha dog of this pairing, even as he was the slightly bigger muscleman - developed a ritual he called “Pose and Approve.” At first, it developed quite naturally. Over time, it had evolved into mutual muscle worship. Alvarez’s judgment and approval of Lang’s muscles were his drug of choice, next to P21, that is, and his own brutally punishing workouts. They started out privately in Alvarez’s room. From the first night, he was ready. An 8’-0” x 10’-0” lit posing dais dominated the back bedroom in his quarters. “Built it myself,” he said quietly as Lang stared at the polished wood surface. When did he find the time, Lang wondered. Alvarez carefully adjusted the cool LED lights. Lang watched eagerly, stripping down to tight posers straining under the weight of his throbbing, veiny penis. Alvarez took his sweet time setting lights and atmosphere. Lang watched, shoving his hand into his sagging pouch and absently manipulating his big tool to half erection. When he judged all was ready, he’d step back. “Okay. Get to work,” he said. Eagerly Lang jumped onstage and hit a front double biceps. Alvarez nodded his approval of his buddy’s muscles. “Nice. Big old cannonballs. Show me more.” Another pose. This time a side chest. Lang’s pecs pounded and seemed to reach the ceiling. His heavy nipples were already taut. “How do I look?” Lang asked nervously. “Looking all right,” Alvarez said casually. “Lights need adjusting.” He half turned away as if to check the wiring. This prompted Lang into frenzy, and he began whipping out pose after pose. “The lights are fucking fine! I’m smokin’!” he cried. “Look at me, Alvarez! Check out my muscles! I’m fucking huge!!!!” Alvarez smiled. “Okay, big man,” he said. “I see. I see what you need.” And casually bending in, he took Lang’s by-now rock hard penis into his mouth and lolled it about gently. Inside, his tongue stroked the long, thick shaft, working its way up and down the veins. “It’s your reward for your perfectly developed muscles.” Lang was in heaven. Then they switched. Alvarez stepped up and surpassed his buddy’s posing performance. As he flexed, Lang sank gratefully to his knees to admire his musclegod buddy. Alvarez hit a pose - wham! - and Lang would greedily slurp on his gigantic rod. "Boom," purred Alvarez. "Big biceps, baby." "Twenty fiiiii---vvve inches...." "Bullshit." "Twenty-five baby. Feel 'em. Suck my cock." "You got it. Sucking now, man." They went back and forth for hours. Flexing biceps, smacking roiling quads, pec dancing, sucking each other's cocks. After a few sessions, Lang developed a surprisingly insatiable taste for Alvarez's stunningly perfect glutes, and sometimes lost himself rimming the man's rosebud butthole while Alvarez posed, legs spread wide, gazing at himself thoughtfully in the wall-length mirror across the room from the dais. Whenever Lang's face was buried deeply in the bigger man's butt, Alvarez found his creative posing juices to be inspired, and he was able to flex for hours without getting tired. Over time, they worked out new routines this way. Of course, Alvarez and Lang had long since taken “Pose and Approve” into more stratospheric, not to mention more public, levels of performance during the last year. The men liked to watch, and occasionally were invited to join in. For more than a year now, the men all knew that Lang slipped whenever he could into Alvarez’s room late at night for an hour of nearly silent shared posing routines and powerful rounds of cocksucking. At the end of their private sessions, each man could be heard roaring in the compound’s corridors as he spurted a mighty ejaculation inside his buddy’s mouth, onto his abs, or inside his yielding bubble butt. Just a week before, when a confidence-challenged Lang was standing in front of the corner mirrors after general workout, trying vainly to figure out a new routine, coach Alvarez decided to take it public. After all, all the men knew. And were curious. And were watching. Eagerly. Even Karim bothered to look up from his own fascination with his flexing biceps. Alvarez directed Lang from pose to pose, nodding. He ran his fingers smoothly over his body. Then he dropped quickly to his knees, stripped off his jockstrap, took his cock into his mouth, and continued to direct him from there. “Bring your right arm up a little. Now tilt your head. Look up. Pretend you see something,” garbled Alvarez, his mouth full of Lang’s cock. “What am I looking at?” asked Lang, a little anxious. “Clouds. You see clouds. Good. More clouds. Right. Here’s your reward.” Alvarez licked his cock hard for a minute. “It’s like he’s licking an ice cream cone,” said Hension. “An ice cream cone with veins,” said Blankenship. Washington stared, grinning. Lang colored slightly. In his jock, his heavy penis head began to expand and push against the thick fabric. “Yo, bodybuilders deserve to get their cocks sucked while they’re posing,” Lang said dreamily, flexing. “I’m down with it,” said Washington. “You can suck mine next.” And Lang did. Alvarez sucked Lang’s dick approvingly, licking the thick shaft lovingly. Then he pulled back to allow Lang to pivot to the next pose. Lang crunched into a most muscular, Alvarez nodded again with serious respect, and sucked him as his reward, as his buddy held a crab shot for 60 full seconds. They moved as one: pivot, flex, a nod of approval, a minute of cocksucking, withdrawal, pivot, flex, another nod, another minute of cocksucking. Absorbed by their mutual passion of posing together, the two silently went into matching, impromptu routines, flexing their powerful guns in unison as if choreographed, slapping their quads, turning to flair their lats, all the while staring appreciatively, each transfixed by the other. And the men stared, too. Soon all they all joined in. The workout was effectively over. Cocks filled mouths for the next hour. Rough, calloused hands appreciatively patted and stroked flexed biceps. Pecs danced. Tongues licked sand dollar sized, downward pointing nipples. Moster was not pleased. Nevertheless, he waited until the last groans had finished, and the last drops of the quarts of ejaculated bodybuilder cum had burst from throbbing cocks down eager throats. "Are we finished?" he asked quietly. The men lined up, sheepish, all with dripping cocks and cum flecks on their lips. Hension's face, inevitably, was covered. "It got into my eyes," he complained. Smack! "Owwwww!" he yelled. Moster waited, and then spoke quietly. “There’s a time and a place for everything,” he barked, all sheepish and spent, wiping the cum from their lips and bodies. After that, Moster determined to keep Lang and Alvarez separated on the floor as much as possible, for the two men were so – was ‘inspired’ the word? – attuned to one another’s powerful physiques that the Sergeant had determined it would be more efficient for all if they trained apart. It always led to “Pose and Approve,” behavior that Moster determined was more efficiently left to the locker room and showers. “Pose and Approve” was all very well for private time, but on the gym floor the men had been known in the past to become hypnotized by one another’s muscles. On rest days, of course, Moster kept them completely separated. That was an order. These days, the two grudgingly but unquestioningly yielded to their CO’s command. Once, Moster had caught them together outside on a bike path on a prescribed rest day, both naked, erect, and posing feverishly. He watched silently for a few moments, waiting for the inevitable moment when Lang sank to his knees and greedily gathered Alvarez’s cock in his mouth. “Gentlemen!” he boomed, striding forward onto the path. “Today is a rest day!” He swung mightily, he clipped the surprised Alvarez right on the jaw. The punch felled the muscleman immediately. Even the usually arrogant Alvarez was a mere beta puppy before the 7’-0” Moster. “In my quarters! Now!” Ten minutes later a cowed Alvarez was stretched over Moster’s powerful knee, receiving a serious butt paddling. Lang stood by nervously, knowing he was next. “You’re like two bad boys,” he said gruffly as he spanked Alvarez’s perfectly rounded buttocks. Neither man protested, each watching the other meekly as he received punishment from the implacable giant Moster. The loud spanks were heard echoing down the hall for 40 minutes. The men sat in the mess and listened to the spanks and howls. “No one crosses Moster,” Schumacher said airily, to no one in particular. The distant sound of spanks bounced off the walls. Perfect musclebutts were receiving perfect punishment. “Gee, what did they do?” asked a fearful Hension. “Someday you’ll find out,” said LeFevre darkly. He winked at Chad. Later, they emerged sheepishly from Moster’s quarters, red-faced and gingerly rubbing their painfully reddened glutes. The two were barred from contact of any kind for three weeks. Moreover, the enforced temporary change in the training schedule upset all of the men, who privately handled the transgression in their own manner. There was a strict code of punishments the men had privately devised and agreed upon over the years, and when training violations occurred, the offender was subject to the discipline of the group, most often provided by a steely-eyed Corporate Karim Abdul. The night after their ordeal with Moster, Abdul and Gunst visited the men in their quarters. The men each stood meekly, as Karim punched their faces with cool precision. Then he spanked them both, followed by Gunst’s stern force-feeding of his cock. Then, for good measure, both men thoroughly fucked their butts. The next morning at chow, each man sported two black eyes. Their flanks ached, and closer inspection revealed that sitting was painful for more reasons than were immediately apparent. “Dudes, what happened to you?” shouted Chad across the mess hall. “Shut the fuck up,” grumbled Alvarez. “Report to the infirmary,” said Moster. “Sergeant, begging your pardon, we’re fine.” “As you prefer, Privates.” “Abdul stretched the shit out of my asshole last night,” Lang complained quietly to Alvarez. “Me too,” Alvarez asked. Silence. Then they both laughed quietly. “Was it worth it?” asked Alavrez. “Fuck yeah,” said Lang. Nevertheless, the men grudgingly acknowledged privately it was their due desserts. After that, Lang and Alvarez obeyed orders, and it didn’t happen again. Their eyes healed quickly and though they remained separated at night, soon they were back on the gym floor the same day Moster suspended their sentence. “No sense in losing perfectly good training time for those two. They’ve learned their lesson,” Moster said to Zaftig, who was always puzzled by the developing social rules within his own lab rats. Three weeks passed, and the night they were finally reunited, Moster smiled privately to himself in his quarters as the excited groans of the two reunited men echoed down the corridors long after hours. The next morning, far from being tired, they appeared at 0700 hours breakfast as if entirely rejuvenated. The other men looked a little weary, having been kept awake all night, but all were in grudging good humor now that the two muscle buddies were together again. Backs were slapped and good-natured jibes taken with grinning good grace. “Have fun last night, Lang?” teased Obatu. “Yep,” said Lang, his mouth full of eggs. “Alvarez get any bigger in the last three weeks?” “He sure did,” Lang nodded seriously, chewing and swallowing. The men guffawed, and Alvarez smacked Lang playfully on the back of the head with a giant paw. “What’d I say?” asked Lang, perplexed, and the men laughed harder. Across the table, Karim never looked up. Faggots, he thought. Still, his cock twitched in his jock. He had liked punching the handsome faces of both Alvarez and Lang, though he didn’t want to admit it, and the crisply delivered black eyes he had administered had made it all even more exciting. And the fucking was fun, too. Moster was satisfied. All in all, it was good for the team. Good for morale. Chapter 8: Tiffany’s Talent Karim was in the corner, working out on the punching bag. His buddies, if the taciturn Lebanese from Michigan could have said to have “buddies”, Privates Duncan and McIntyre, were alternating between bench wrist curls and neck-strengthening dumbbell lifts. The rhythmic volley of Karim’s rapid punches filled the air. Abdul Karim was, at his most social, on the taciturn side. At 6’-3”, 275 pounds, and less than 2% bodyfat, Karim had a beard and mustache that he kept meticulously groomed at all times. He had the Arab’s big nose, dark skin, and, except for his back and shoulders, a full body armor of tight, black curly hair. His muscular chest was black with fur, with two deep red-brown nipples poking through. His quads were oak trees. His bullish biceps, covered with bright tattoos, were stacked and wired for maximum damage. His fists were huge and calloused. Karim was an extreme fighter of the first order; calm, methodical, practiced, powerful, relentless and merciless. Zaftig had plucked him from the State Penitentiary of Washington about four years earlier. He was in for manslaughter, having beaten to death a suspected serial rapist in Seattle; the trial transcripts stated that he had simply held the dude aloft by his collar and repeatedly punched the guy in the face until he grew bored. Inside, it was said, he had beaten to bloody pulps 5 inmates who had jumped him one night in the shower with sharpened shivs and the intent to kill. How Zaftig got him out was still a mystery to Moster, but, as his CO was bigger and possibly even a hair stronger, Karim silently respected him without grudge or attitude, and there was no real breach of discipline. Still, it was tough to pair him off in extreme fighting matches in the compound, although Corporal Schumacher was a close match. Annoyingly, if understandably, both Chad and LeFevre were careful to keep the beautiful young Private Hension away from Karim. Secretly protective of their young initiate, they didn’t take any chance that the longingly masochistic Hension might approach Karim, and get a lot more than he bargained for. Karim, for his part, wasn’t particularly interested in Hension. For him, a hole was a hole was a hole, and as for getting his cock sucked, he preferred women to do the job, as long as they shut up about it. Oddly, he didn’t seem to mind if effeminate boys took care of his meat, if no pussy was available. A bitch was a bitch was a bitch, though he took care to show basic respect for being serviced (even if, of course, it was his due). He did, however, like piss. Karim liked to be pissed upon, and he liked to piss on others. He marked his territory. He especially liked it when big boy Gunst pissed on him. After all, he respected the man. He didn’t consider it a sexual fantasy. To Karim, piss was just the right expression of muscle and power. Late at night, he sometimes came to the workout room alone and worked on the heavy bag. On those nights, he made sure that the kitchen boy, Pedro, was standing by. A slender 16-year old kid, barely 130 pounds, and a sweet-natured homey if ever there was one, Pedro would wait patiently in a darkened corner until Karim summoned him to approach, get on his knees, and suck his unusually hairy cock while he worked the light bag. The boy loved hair and muscles, and Karim’s big veiny tool got an appreciative coating between his lips. Karim would grunt, shoot, coat the boy’s face with globs of semen, pat him affectionately on the butt, and head off to bed without washing off. The boy scampered into the kitchen to start breakfast for the men, happy to have been of service. Good-natured Privates Bill McIntyre and David Duncan were often buffer zones for the brooding Corporal Karim. Calm and circumspect, like Karim they too were hairy big boys who preferred the ladies, albeit always in groups with the Lebanese. Moster occasionally arranged for private liaisons for the three bodybuilders with three high-priced, Amazonian professional girls flown in from Las Vegas. The men fucked their women vigorously, always with their eyes on one another. After they finished up and the ladies had departed, Karim often polished off the night fucking his buddies’ shapely muscle butts, alternating between them. It took a lot to satisfy Karim, who could fuck all night, and sometimes Moster was hastily summoned to make sure the session ended. He often brought Gunst with him to break up the party, for Karim liked nothing better than to finally cum while Gunst pissed in his face. “Feels good,” he would grunt as Gunst’s firehose cock shot streams of piss on his muscles, while McIntyre and Duncan stood by smiling, gently fingering their reddened, aching buttholes. Karim would work his cock fiercely with his powerful fist, quickly spurting buckets of semen onto his hairy abs, and, as always, trudge off silently to bed without washing or saying good night. Gunst would then get the privilege of sucking Moster’s giant cock while McIntyre and Duncan watched respectfully, stroking their own cocks. Sessions would end with each bodybuilder shooting his cum into Gunst’s mouth. Gunst could swallow volumes of cum. “Makes me bigger,” he’d say. The big boy preferred monster penis, and liked it best with other musclemen standing by watching. So it worked for everyone. Beyond them, Corporals Schumacher, Obatu, and Blankenship were besting each other in sets of deep squat deadlifts. A 42-year old muscle veteran with tattoos, steel-wool skin, acne scars, an explosively powerful physique dense with vascularity, and all honed by nearly 30 years of raw, intense training, Herman Schumacher was the current king of this group, with his wide-oval, pronouncedly roiling, round hamstrings of pure power protruding far behind him. His broad, solid, rounded manbutt rolled above his hams, meeting into a firm, deep butt crack. His calves were split into two deep and distinct diamond-like heads. Schumacher had no-nonsense iron-grey hair and was generally scowling. He knew all who saw him wanted to fuck his mighty butt. Secretly, he was happiest when either fucking – or being fucked. His formidable, muscular, hairy glutes demanded attention. He was loath, however, to acknowledge his fantasy top. Rarely fucked by the other men, and always only after extreme begging and some act of subservience, Herman Schumacher had some private fantasies of his own, involving heavy rope and buttplugs, that one day he hoped he’d have the courage to investigate. For now, the opinions of the other men were still too gravely important to him. He wasn’t ready to betray himself. Not yet. In the mean time, it was generally understood that Schumacher’s powerful tool was always at the ready to plow a tasty ass. Just out of his hearing, the other men all agreed - and even Karim - they craved his particular kind of butt fucking. It seemed he could always find the g-spot, and he quietly provided hours of late night pleasure for those men who had just finished a grueling squat workout, and whose eager buttholes needed relief. Obatu chose to shave his head bald, had shiny black skin, and like Schumacher and Karim, nearly always had a fearsome scowl on his face. His glory were his bull-like traps and his mammoth pecs, which at 66”circumference approached Moster’s own in size, shredded cuts, and separations. His fearsomely large genitalia had a habit of rolling out of his jockstrap during training, and he’d absent-mindedly scoop his balls and cock back into place, often pausing unconsciously for a quick couple of strokes on the extra-long, heavy shaft and a quick flick of his thick thumb on the bell-shaped cockhead. Then he’d lift and adjust the heavy pouch and resume his powerful lifts. On white cap nights, however, he often didn’t bother to repouch. Blankenship, younger than both and only recently having attained the rank of Corporal, didn’t have the ripped density of Schumacher nor the sheer mass of Obatu, boasting instead superb genetics and beautifully honed symmetry. Good-humored and outgoing, the roman-nosed young Blankenship favored classical Greek poses in his routines, and he often showed off his alluring lines with his muscular arms held overhead. He was a statue come to life – and he knew it. Shouting encouragement and taunts at one another, Schumacher completed another grueling set of 25 reps with 400 pounds. On the last rep, he strained to replace the weight on the floor with disciplined quiet, in control of the weight to the very last. Then he blew out a mouthful of spit, shook his head violently so that his sweat flew everywhere, and straightened up. Blankenship planted a solid smack on his naked butt. “Nice!” he yelled. Schumacher smiled wearily and nodded. Then he turned and glanced across the room to see if Private Joe Tiffany had been watching his set. Tiffany was working triceps and delts with Private Robert Lang. Alvarez was at the squat rack, training legs with Private Eli Meyer. The good-looking All-American Jewish Meyer was the shortest man in the squad, standing only 5’- 3”, and sadly, a mute. He was a highly developed, talented gymnast, double-jointed nearly everywhere and was astonishingly supple for a little muscleman. He easily contorted his 210-pound body into positions the other men could only dream of. He favored the relatively simple – for him – pose of planting his rippling arms on the floor and swinging his legs sky-high behind them, tilting his pelvis forward past his elbows and holding steady for long periods of time. The pose was catnip for the squad, who, after hours in the compound rec room, loved to more closely inspect Meyer’s proudly displayed hairless, supple pink butthole, which he playfully puckered in and out for them at will. Meyer would smile hugely and nod encouragement, his eyes sparkling with mischief, as the excited men scrambled to their knees and took turns playfully licking and probing his asshole. Alvarez enjoyed a lick as much as the other men, but he always noted Lang’s slightly hurt gaze and promptly retreat with his buddy for some private posing. For his part, however, Alvarez had no issue when Lang, occasionally overcome himself, dipped his handsome face into Meyer’s butt for a taste of honey. Afterwards, Alvarez noted, he would pose harder than ever. For Tiffany was trouble. Alvarez noted that Tiffany was studiously ignoring Corporal Schumacher’s impressive set of deadlifts. Lang, almost as dim as Hension, hadn’t seemed to notice. But then, Lang hadn’t learned yet that he shouldn’t trust Joe Tiffany. Joe Tiffany was 19. He was gap-toothed, dark-haired, freckled, had slightly big ears, and looked a little goofy. He was bow-legged, weighed 235 pounds, and had almost no bodyfat at all – and what little there was lay sweetly atop what Herman Schumacher imagined was probably the most beautiful butt on the planet. On the day of his arrival into the Project facility just a little less than a year ago, Obatu had nicknamed him ‘Huck Finn’. The name stuck, and over time morphed into ‘Fuck Him.’ No one had, though, as of yet. Not privately, anyway. Tiffany was smart. He looked dumb and played the innocent, but he was canny, shrewd, and manipulative. He also had an unusual talent, which he had privately shared with the curious Sergeant Moster not long after his arrival. It was not unlike perfect pitch: Tiffany could take astonishingly accurate size measurements – orally. Moreover, he had no gag reflex. It appeared that he could take anything. Any cock. To its full length. Even Moster’s. Moster had found out quite by accident – or so he thought. In the showers alone one night, the black muscle giant was lathering up his armpits when he turned and discovered the Private staring at him from the doorway into the locker room. “You’re here late, Private.” “I forgot my jockstrap.” “Better get it and head to bed. Training tomorrow at 0700 hours.” Tiffany held his jock up silently. He waited. Moster stopped lathering and returned his look. “Is there something I can do for you, Private?” he demanded. Tiffany said nothing but gazed straight at Moster’s gargantuan, swaying dick. “Private?” Moster stepped forward. Tiffany didn’t move. “Sir?” He gazed unblinkingly at the cock. Moster glared. “Well?” Tiffany looked up and came to attention. “Sir, I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “But that is the biggest dick I have ever seen in my life, sir.” “It is unlikely you have seen a bigger one.” “I’m guessing no one has, sir.” “No, probably not. Just how big do you think it is?” “Sir, if you will forgive the indulgence, sir, but I believe I could tell you, sir, and quite accurately, too.” Moster had already heard about Tiffany’s after-hours mess hall boasts. Now was the chance to see if the boy had the stuff. “On your knees, then, Private.” “Yes, sir.” Tiffany stepped forward in the shower, got to his knees and opened his mouth. He held still. Water poured from the spigot and in an instant, Tiffany’s t-shirt was wringing wet and bulging with his tight teen muscles. He looked up expectantly at Moster. He was calm. “Doesn’t look like anything I can’t handle, sir.” Annoyed at the Tiffany’s arrogance for a flashing moment, Moster slapped his swaying, dripping cock fiercely three or four times. It blew into an engorged 20-inch-plus vein-pulsing snake inside of 5 seconds. Water from the shower splashed onto it and ricocheted off the walls. “All right then. You’ll have to open up much wider than that.” “Yes, sir.” Tiffany opened his mouth as wide as he could. Moster strode forward, grabbed the back of the young Private’s head, and forced his face onto his cock. Amazingly, Tiffany’s lips easily enveloped the enormous head, then the shaft, and slid down until Tiffany’s nose was pressed against Moster’s body. Somewhere inside, Moster’s giant shaft had disappeared deeply down Tiffany’s throat and into his upper body. Yet the muscleboy didn’t gag. Instead, he looked up and smiled, his mouth full of black bodybuilder cock. He held still a full minute, as Moster’s cock throbbed inside him. Then he slowly pulled his head back. “18 and 5/8s inches, sir. 8 pounds, three ounces. You weigh 396 pounds tonight, sir, your body temperature is 97 degrees, and your blood pressure is 120/85.” He smiled serenely. Damn, thought Moster. He’s right on target. There was just no telling where P21 protocols could lead, and what talents it might unearth. He nodded, satisfied, and then plunged his cock deeply back in and out of Tiffany’s mouth. In spite of its huge girth, Tiffany bowed and obediently went to work. As Moster pumped his hips rhythmically and Tiffany sucked mammoth cock, the sergeant’s mind drifted towards the men. Hmmmm, he thought. He was deeply in thought, automatically flexing his muscles and yet barely paying any attention to the efficient, powerful, machine-like sucks of Private Tiffany. Finally he began to shoot rivers of cum into the teen’s mouth. After a minute or two of shooting, he withdrew his cock and coated Tiffany’s face evenly with the last blasts of semen. Tiffany licked and took in as much as his tongue could reach, and then he stood, at attention once again. His cute face was covered with clouds of thick cum, which dripped down in thick globs onto his body under the spray of the shower. He saluted again, and wiped his mouth so he could speak clearly. “I hope that was satisfactory, sir?” “It was.” He didn’t appear to be injured in any way, at which Moster privately marveled. He turned away and began soaping the blobs of cum off his cock shaft. “You’re aware that sucking your CO’s cock is a privilege awarded rarely to men of your rank.” “Yes, sir. I know, sir.” “You will report to my private exam room tomorrow about an hour into the evening session. I’ll let you know when.” “Thank you, sir. It was a pleasure, sir.” He started out of the shower room, and turned, adding, “By the way, sir, your cum tastes a little like banana. I love banana.” He saluted again, and was gone. “Fresh punk,” thought Moster, but he was pleased. Starting the next evening, Moster began to require that the priapic dimensions of each muscleman be included in his records, the information to be obtained in privately conducted sessions he personally oversaw with Private Tiffany on hand to take the strictest of measurements. As always, the sergeant immediately designed a standard ritual of procedure. Ordered one by one into the examination room off the gym floor, each bodybuilder entered singly, wearing a tight posing strap, and walked silently into the center of the room. Private Gunst was first. “Stand under the light,” Moster ordered quietly. The bodybuilder stepped onto a posing dais, and poised himself under a single focused spotlight shining from the ceiling. He awaited orders, hands at his sides. He wondered why Tiffany was present. Moster stood in half-light, fully covered in clean white sweats, as always. The silent Dr. Irving sat in a pin light in the distant corner, armed with a video camera and scribbling in a small pad. Tiffany, wearing the white regulation tight t-shirt and khakis, stepped forward from the shadows. “Let’s see what you got, man,” murmured Moster, and Gunst swung into a posing routine. The first pose was a side biceps pose with the muscleman leaving forward and rotating his back towards the sergeant, so that he might better appreciate the three distinct cannonball deltoids, the broad lat sweep, the baseball separations of the biceps head, the powerful shape of his obliques, the shapely, hard glutes, and the roiling hamstrings. It was a landscape of muscle, and the men all knew it was Moster’s preferred pose. Then Gunst straightened, reached toward the single spotlight, and slowly brought his arms down into his most powerful, sustained front double biceps pose. “26 inches, sir!” he shouted. He held it for about 30 seconds. “Looking good,” said Moster, slightly bored. A three-minute posing routine followed. There was no sound in the room apart from the rapid tapping of Dr. Irving’s pen, the hum from the spotlight, and the waves of air being sucked in and out of Gunst’s mouth as he glided smoothly from pose to pose. Front lats, pivot, side left chest, side left triceps, pivot, rear lat spread, rear double biceps, pivot, side right chest, side right triceps, pivot, left quad, shake, slap, flex, right quad, shake, slap, flex, overhead ab crunch, and finally a most muscular, crunching viciously into a vein-exploding crab shot. Then the bodybuilder stood still, waiting. Thick rivulets of sweat poured down his physique. “Okay. Front double biceps again, please.” Gunst flexed his mountainous peaks. “And hold it.” Gunst smiled and strained, eager to please his C.O. “All right, Tiffany,” Moster said quietly, “get to it.” “Yes, sir,” said Tiffany. He strode forward, and as Gunst stood steadily flexing the classic front double biceps, the shorter Tiffany gracefully reached forward, took hold of the elastic side straps of his thin mesh poser, pulled the pouch forward and down, and unveiled the muscleman’s flaccid, long, thick, imperial penis. Moster cracked a quick smile, noting that Gunst first looked startled….then curious…. and then aroused. The giant gazed down as the business-like Tiffany got to his knees, gently fixed his pretty lips on the man’s junk, closed his eyes a moment, plunged deeply, holding the instantaneously stiffening penis deeply in his throat for about 60 seconds. “Wow”….breathed Gunst. He continued to flex his biceps, but tears appeared in his suddenly glistening eyes, and his cheeks flushed deep crimson. Below, Tiffany held firm and steady, his moist lips gently enfolding the thickening penis, widening his jaw to allow the throbbing member to enlarge to its true, pounding, blood-filled girth, standing gradually as the man’s cock began to climb towards the ceiling. He appeared to be making some internal calculations. He allowed 30 seconds more to pass; then he lolled his tongue around the muscleman’s cockshaft, pulled back, dipped again to twice lick the bulbous cockhead, paused again, and then gently parted his lips and pulled back, smacking his lips happily. He wiped his mouth. Gunst stared at him. "Huge cock, man. Nice." Tiffany turned to Moster. That was all it took. Gunst promptly began to spurt ropes of milky cum into the air, which Tiffany deftly dodged. He announced his findings. “12 and three-quarters inches, sir, tip to base,” Tiffany announced with obvious pride. “As you see, he is uncircumcised. Foreskin is clean and about six inches around. Penis weight, five and one half pounds. Shaft circumference, eight inches. Head size, three and three quarters, sir. Two pronounced lateral veins.” Tiffany paused. “He weighs 325 pounds, sir, and at the moment, his blood pressure is 140/80.” He grinned. “It’s quite a penis. You should be proud, sir.” “Yeah, thanks.” Gunst was still shooting. Ropes of cum hit the walls. “Sorry, sir.” “That’s all, Private,” said Moster. “Dismissed.” Gunst, his dick still shooting volleys of cum, stepped off the platform, glanced with confusion at Tiffany, and walked slowly out of the room, his posers barely covering his throbbing cock, leaving a trail of cum as he went. “Tell Corporal Abdul to come in next,” Moster called after him. Gunst turned. “May I watch, sir?” Moster considered. “All right.” At the outset of the tests, Moster was immediately on hand with a tape measure and a blood pressure cuff to verify what he could. After awhile, he didn’t bother. Tiffany was always right. By the next morning, Moster had realized that Tiffany had deftly strategized the whole routine. He’d been punked, and by a newbie. It was as if Tiffany had foreseen Moster’s every move, and now, in record time, every man in Project Herculaneum was aware that Private Tiffany’s blowjobs were a vehicle to provide new particularized personal information being added to their charts. Moster was secretly amused at the teen’s cojones, but knew that he’d have to regain the upper hand again, and soon. Still, it wasn’t for him to break Tiffany personally. That would have made his displeasure too apparent. He began to look for opportunities for the cocky Tiffany to be bested by one of the men. A face punching by Karim would be too brutal. He considered other ways. Maybe in the wrestling ring. Yes. ******* Links to other chapters: "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Precis, Introduction, Chapters 1 & 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - Inside Zaftig's Lab: The Musclemen Revealed

"This is so fuckin' hot, little man!" He shouted with his head tilted back. His massive arms worked his big cock up and down. "Fuck my abs dude! And lick my fuckin pecs or I'll crush you in there!" He was jerking faster and faster, "Awww, yea, little man. Fuck my abs, lick these pecs! Ahh!" His muscles tensed and my head felt like it was going to pop. "Little man, I'm--Ahh-I'm--I'M GUNNA GROW!" I could hear his huge pecs growing on both sides of my head. The heat coming from them was making me sweat. They were growing around my skull and any second I knew they would crush me. My cock was still submerged in his abs as my hands beat the underside of his pecs. There was nothing my scrawny body could do to escape and my muffled screams were going unheard. I could feel his abs elongating and grinding my dick between them. I was on the verge of passing out when suddenly a heave of Alex's giant pecs made me go flying off of him. I flew so far off the bed that I hit the wall straight across from him and slid down to the ground. I laid on the ground panting and falling in and out of consciousness. The room slowed from a whirlwind to a slow spin as I caught my breath staring up at the high ceiling. From across the room I could hear the bed creaking and then something must have snapped because it made a loud bang that made the room shake. I was so out of it that I just laid there staring up. Out of no where the deepest voice addressed me: "Little man....you okay?" It made my spine shiver because of how loud it was. I still didn't register what it could have been until I heard whatever it was start to sit up. Suddenly there floor shook with a BOOM. Then the entire house shook with another BOOM. The light was beginning to dim as the booms came closer. I could see the knick knacks on the low table above my head move towards the edge with each shake. BOOOM. BOOOOM. I could feel the heat. BOOOOOM. My entire body lifted off the floor a little with the last shake. I finally put the energy together to lift my head a few inches. BOOOOM. "Little man... you ok down there?" I've never seen anything so magnificent in my life. From laying flat on the floor there was a god above me. It was a given I could not see his face but his pecs must have jut out at least two feet. They were covered in veins and sat high like two big beachballs on his sternum. He must have understood what my silence meant from below because he once again parted his huge ballooning pecs and stared down at me through the deep cleft between and smiled then asked, "How's the view from down there?" "God-like," I whispered to myself. He must have not heard me with his newfound height. "What was that, little guy?" And with that, the two giant orbs starting falling fast towards me in an attempt to hear what I had mummbled out of pure awe. The second it took for the behemoth to get onto one knee felt like minutes as his huge chest was thrust into my vision above me. There was almost no light from the room in my view from beneath him. "I couldn't hear what you said. Do you like how I look now?" "I said you looked God-like from up there!" He was dying to please me. "Hahaha!" He laughed whole-heartedly, "I knew you'd like seeing me G-R-O-W!" As he said the last word he expanded his back and flexed his chest high and mighty. His face completely disappeared from view and I felt my eyes grow wide as the shadow extended over my body. I was sitting up against the wall across from the bed and his chest kept flexing until his pecs met the wall and flattened against it. I know if he wanted he could have smashed through the wall with a simple pop of of chest. I couldn't handle it anymore. "You're SO BIG!" I lusted and reached up to touch the underside of his massive man mountains. But just as I almost reached them he released his flex and rose up to his feet. "Yea, little man! And It's all yours!" He flexed his massive arms and bounced his bowling ball biceps around then spun around giving me a view of his rock hard ass cheeks as he stomped towards the door. "Get yourself together and meet me in the kitchen. Your big guy is hungry!" His foot steps shook the room with each step. I spent the next fifteen minutes laying in the same slumped spot in the corner of Alex's huge bedroom jerking my cock to everything I had just witnessed. I got myself together and grabbed my tight briefs and my white tank top that I wore under my shirt. I threw them on and walked over to the large mirror wall that covered his closet and peered into it. I put my arms up in a flex position and looked myself up and down. I was so small compared to this guy! I was only 125lbs and under 5'4 while this guy was over twice my height and God only knows how much he weighed. I put my arms down as the smell of food filled the room. It smelled like...a lot of things. I left the bedroom and walked down the hall. There were rooms everywhere and the ceilings were extremely high. I made my way passed a living room with a huge couch that looked like it could have fit 10 of me. I kept walking until the smell of food was almost smacking me in the face. I walked around the corner and saw Alex sitting at a huge oak table in one of the biggest kitchens I've ever seen. There was an industrial stove and three industrial refridgerators. On the large oak table was an array of different foods.. Was he having a feast? I approached the table as he waved over with a large chicken breast in one hand and a hard boiled egg that looked like a pea clutched between his big finger tips. I walked over to the bench that was across from his bench that he used as chairs. As I jumped up I noticed this kitchen was made for someone much bigger than me because the table came up to the top of my chest. However, Alex seemed to fit very well with the setup; In fact, he looked a bit too big for it. "Dig in, little man!" He said with his mouth stuffed. I noticed he had already gone through three full roasted chickens, tons of rice, and so much other food that I couldn't identify because there was only scraps left. I reached over and grabbed a spoonful of corn, a sliver of chicken, and a dollup of mashed potatoes. The big guy laughed loudly as I started to dig in to my scarcely filled plate. "That's all you're going to have? You're making me feel fat!" He laughed. "You're anything but fat, big guy," I laughed "Trust me on that one!" He continued to chuckle along and brought one arm up, looked at it, and curled his hand towards his bulbous shoulders making his bicep rise up. Once again my eyes grew wide and my laughter turned to coughs as I choked on a biteful of corn. He quickly looked from his huge mountain to me and then back to his arm and then back at me. He put the connection together playfully. "You like this?" He smiled. "What happened to you being a PEC guy?" He popped his chest up as he said it causing me to cough again. "I am, but your entire body... All of your--" "MUSCLES?" He interrupted as he bounced his huge bicep and then raised his other arm to match. "All of your huge muscles are absolutely incredible. I still don't know why you're doing all of this for me." I stared in awe. "Little man, I told you..I'm not only doing this for you. I love how little you are; You make me feel like a giant and I love it! And I've never met anyone who wants me to get bigger like you do!" "Well, I've never seen anyone as big as you, and I don't think I ever will!" "Hell no you won't! Check this out." He let one arm down and reach across to the center of the table where a bunch of fruit was sitting. He grabbed and apple out of the bowl and brought it back towards him. He looked over to his bicep and straightened out his arm making the bicep unflex. He carefully placed the apple on the joint between his elbow and the bowling ball that sat on his upper arm. He bent his arm a few inches and the apple became completely wedged between all of the muscles on his arm. He looked right at my face and winked and then brought his hand towards his head to flex his gigantic arm. Veins rose up like ropes and the bowling ball turned into a globe right before my eyes. The apple was completely gone and only apple sauce and juice were left dripping down the side of his arms. Chunks of apple were all over his huge cannon as he looked back to me and said "Dessert is served!" I stood on my oversized chair and started crawling across the oversized table. I got to my feet and had to skip and jump over all the bowls of food and scraps left all over the table. I reached the giant man on the other side and I noticed even standing on this table with him seated I was only a few inches above his head. I rubbed my hands through his hair sensually and then slowly knelt down in front of his massive bicep. I looked up and over at his face and we both smiled before he raised his arm right up in front of my face and grunted. The massive arm was flexing even bigger inches from my face and it was filling my entire view. It was so massive it surpassed the size of a baby car seat. I put my hands on the smooth hot surface and began rubbing in a circular pattern around the spherical muscle orb. Veins ran under my finers as large as jump rope and there was a distinct crevice that seperated the bicep from the tricep that could easily fit a television remote. "Clean it off with your tongue, little man." Alex said as he peered over his huge arm down at me. I smiled again and pressed my tongue to the warm flesh in front of me. He tilted his head back and flexed his arm even bigger. The taste of apple and sweat filled my mouth. "That's right, little man, lick it all off!" I furiously began licking every inch and crevice of the massive orb in front of me. The big man groaned again and moved his free hand to behind my hand and gently pressed me face into his bicep. He relaxed the stone wall a bit and bounced my face into the huge mass. He then moved my head into the trench between his bicep and elbow where the apple had once been. "These guns could crush you right now if I wanted." I cringed as he began putting pressure on my little head with the bicep that was about four times the size. "But they're only here to protect you." I popped my head out from the muscle and smiled up at him. I rose to my feet and hugged his huge arm with both of my arms hardly being able to reach around it. My rock hard nine inch cock was grinding in the crevice where his bicep met his arm. I stopped because it felt so good that I thought I would blow my load right then and there. The big guy noticed this and reached over to my skin tight briefs and pulled them to the ground. "Go ahead, my little guy, fuck my giant muscles." I moved my legs closer to his huge bicep as I stood on the big oak table. I used one of my arms to grab onto the back of the man mountain and grabbed my cock with the other. I began flicking my nine inch cock onto the huge stone orb that was his bicep as he bounced it around for me. I then rubbed my dick all over his muscle veins. He leaned his head over to my cock and spit on my dick. I rubbed it around and then moved my dick to the deep trench where the apple and my head had once been. The big guy and I smiled at each other and then I began to thrust my dick in the cleft he made as he flexed his bicep. "You're...soo....fucking....huge!" I panted as I continued to fuck his gargantuan muscle. "That's right! Fuck my huge muscles! Tell me how big I am!" "You're....a giant. You're...a giant....muscle god!" I thrust one last time before errupting in the deep muscle trench. I pulled my dick out and slumped over his huge flexed bicep. He bounced his huge bicep one last time with a groan and it sent me flying to the place on the oak table directly in front of his massive chest. I laid face down sprawled out on my stomach. I was so tired I couldn't lift my face off the table to look at him. I could see on the side of me was still a bunch of metal and glass utensils, bowls, and plates with the scraps of food from the feast that had fed his muscles a few minutes ago and I assumed the other side of me was the same. "Wow, little man! I can see you enjoy bicep worship a lot! Hahaha, I just hope you haven't forgotten about these big ones!" I could hear him grunt and I could almost hear the sound of muscles expanding less than a foot over my head. A shadow came over me and I could feel heat from above. With the rest of the energy I had left I picked my head up and noticed he had moved closer to the big oak table because his rock hard upper abs were pressed against the table. I slowly moved my glance up higher and saw his huge mountainous pecs were being thrusted foward over my head. They formed a massive shelf that trapped me in a crawl space between the table and the pecs above me. "You better run, little man! Because here comes the real mountains!" My eyes grew wide as they expanded over me.

He grabs Bloodstone’s scrubs and tears them off including his underwear. He then turns the doctor around and starts slapping his leaky pole on his ass. The doctor tries to get away but Davis holds him down with his free hand. ‘I just want to see if this protein can be transferred to another man. Remember you told me that if I came, I would shrink so…..if I pump it into you…..would you fucking grow from it? My mind absolutely loves the thought of that doctor because I have this craving that won’t go away.’ ‘DAVE! NO! Don’t do this! Your curiosity got the best of you. Why should I have to bear the brunt of your decision?’ The big man secures Bloodstone and picks him up to carry him over to a table. He puts him down and tells him to get on his knees. The doctor tries to resist him, but is not strong enough to really make any kind of move. ‘You wanna play doctor? HUH? *slaps Bloodstone’s chest and back* Get on your knees…..you and I both know that you can’t stop me from pumping you full of this stuff.’ He lifts the doctor up off the table and arranges his legs so that he is on all fours as Bloodstone’s hairy ass glistens with sweat. Davis moans as he looks at it and moves down to run his tongue along the doctor’s hole. He slaps his ass a few times which makes Bloodstone submit a little. Davis’s strong hands travel up and down the doctor’s back making him relax. Bloodstone’s hairy cock starts to harden making Davis laugh as he slowly parts the doctor’s ass lips with his tongue. He stops after a few minutes to reach his free hand between the nervous man’s legs to massage his hairy ballsac and pet the 9x6” rod that the doctor is sporting. He is very impressed with how equipped Bloodstone is. ‘See…..this isn’t so bad is it Ross. In fact, I am hungry for some of that beautiful meat to go along with the peanut butter you made me. You told me to relax before remember? I think you should relax now.’ Davis pulls the doctor’s cock and balls underneath his legs so he can get a taste of them. The big man licks his big ballsac and lightly sucks on it tasting some of the fear emanating from Bloodstone’s body. He moans as he runs his tongue up and down the thick cock and plays with the head on it flicking his tongue a few times. The doctor trembles feeling sensations rushing up and down his body. At this point, Davis knows that he has Bloodstone willing to give in to his advances. He swallows the huge pole and gulps each time it hits his throat. The doctor moans long and hard feeling it rub the big man’s insides. Davis gets a rhythm going that makes Bloodstone hump his mouth. The big man lets out several ‘mmmmm’’s knowing that he is winning the doctor over. He takes his other hand that was holding the doctor in place and slowly pushes a few fingers inside Bloodstone’s hole. ‘STOP IT PLEASE DAVE! Uhhhh……*winces*. I can’t do this…..why subject me to such torture?’ *Davis stops sucking for a few moments* ‘You are not fighting me anymore doctor otherwise I wouldn’t be working your cock over so easily. I am really hungry for some of your spunk by the way. Is this part of your secret formula?’ *laughs* The big man goes back to working the doctor’s cock again with his mouth as he continues to rub the inside of Bloodstone’s hole. He can sense an urgency developing now and picks up his speed. He moans with each round tasting the doctor’s thick juicy precum as it coats his throat. He pulls on his own cock to get himself ready for the true test. He pulls the doctor’s cock out of his mouth to watch it spill its honey on his tongue. He smiles and kisses it a few times. ‘Okay doctor, it’s time for you to show me how much of a stud you are. Feed me Ross, I want it in my body.’ Davis starts stroking it rapidly making Bloodstone yell in ecstasy. He can’t hold back much longer and the big man knows it. He gives the doctor’s cock a few much rounds of sucking and feels his balls twitching wildly. He stops sucking right when the flood goes barreling down his throat. He slaps the doctor’s leg with his free hand and moans deeply gulping down each jet. Just when the unfortunate scientist thinks he is satisfied, the big man starts sucking again. The doctor agonizes and wants him to stop, but Davis will have none of it. ‘Ross…..you taste incredible. I want more…..I know there is more in you your balls are big and beautiful. *moves down to suck on them individually for a few minutes before going back to the doctor’s cock again* MMMMMM, makes those balls work for me Ross.’ He sucks in a steady rhythm making the doctor gasp as he feels another load starting to flow into his cock. Davis drains another load out of him swallowing every drop and letting it relax in his throat. He sighs and pulls his fingers out of the doctor’s ass and away from him. After a minute or so, he pulls Bloodstone’s cock out of his mouth and steps back. The doctor collapses on the table and moans from exhaustion. ‘It’s okay doctor, I will do all of the hard work now.’ Davis’s big cock drools in anticipation of entering Bloodstone. The big man rubs it on the doctor’s hole which seems primed for entry. His cock slowly pushes its way inside as the eager top picks the scientist up against him and holds him in place. He thrusts methodically in and out while Bloodstone just mumbles jibberish. ‘I won’t torture you very long I promise. Besides my balls are so bloated I couldn’t hold back much longer anyway.’ Davis’s voice cracks as he feels his ballsac contracting and pushing the cum directly into his cock. With a few hard thrusts, he sprays the inside of the doctor’s intestines with his thick spunk. Bloodstone groans feeling it rush inside him. There isn’t anything he can do at this point. Davis pulls out of him and lays him back on the table. A stream of cum flows on the floor from the doctor’s anus as the big man falls to the floor and rubs his cock and balls. He looks at his arms and flexes them a few times to just admire their beauty. He looks up at the scientist and wonders if anything will happen to him now. ‘Well, looks like the waiting game now Ross. Maybe I need to try and coax it to wake up inside you.’ The doctor scoots his way to the edge of the table and falls off landing on his side. He yells in pain as he continues to move away from Davis. The big man seems uninterested in following him since he isn’t moving very fast. Bloodstone leaves the supply room and heads for the chemical shower located on the other side of the panic room. He doesn’t hear the big man following him so he tries to crawl a little faster. He gets to the shower and pulls himself up slowly to pull the lever to turn the shower on. Davis now decides to get up and enters the room. ‘HA, what are you doing doctor? I don’t think washing yourself off is going to matter all that much.’ Davis goes and picks up the jar of peanut butter and makes a motion like he is going to stick his hand inside it. He hears the doctor groaning and sees him fall to the ground grasping his stomach. A huge smile appears on the bodybuilder’s face as he realizes that this may very well work. He walks over to Bloodstone and gets down on his knees to look at him. The doctor is now hurting so badly that he can’t even look up. ‘Hurts doesn’t it Ross…..when it first started in me I thought I was dying, but once it reached my balls, I was in heaven.’ The doctor’s lean frame begins to make a few popping sounds as his abs jut out a bit. The big man watches them intently as he rubs each eight individual tiles. Bloodstone looks terrified as he feels it moving through him. His lower body’s muscles stretch and pull outward forming into small vascular tree trunks stretching all the way down to his ankles and feet. Davis massages them slowly as they finish growing. ‘You are not going to be quite as large as me it seems, but I have to say I still like what I am seeing.’ Bloodstone’s flat pecs fill out next as he strains to breathe. His arms are growing entirely new veins inside them as they branch all the way up and down his hands and shoulders. His back and ass pop several times growing slightly larger and wider than before. High-pitched stretching noises radiate from the sides of his back as lats seem to come out from nowhere. Once it finally gets to his balls and cock, the doctor looks like he is completely spent and passes out. Strange stretching sounds are now coming from his crotch as the big man notices the doctor’s ballsac growing larger as his testicles blow up in size. His cock grows even thicker than before which immediately gets the attention of Davis. ‘MMMMM doctor, I think you are going to need this taken care of again.’ He leans down and licks the swollen cockhead with his tongue and figures out that he can shove it inside the piss slit. The doctor lies motionless not reacting to any of this stimulation. The big man slurps the river of honey that is now flowing freely from inside and moans deeply. Within a few seconds though, he starts to feel a bit weird and stops drinking the fluid. He falls backwards onto the floor and starts to rub his face and head. Bloodstone wakes up and looks over to stare straight at him. He quickly crawls over to Davis and throws the big man’s legs over his shoulders. He gets up on his knees to return the favor on the big man. He shoves his massive cock inside the bodybuilder and starts fucking him relentlessly. Davis agonizes feeling the doctor filling him up with that fluid. His muscles begin to shrink slightly as his cock immediately erupts. Bloodstone grabs his legs and moves both of them over to the jar before angling Davis’s huge cock inside it as it cums steadily. The big man looks absolutely horrified seeing the cum starting to mesh with the peanut butter inside. He continues to shrink and starts crying uncontrollably as he nearly returns back to his original size. The doctor slows his fucking down and squeezes Davis’s balls trying to get every last drop out of the shrinking man. Davis can no longer speak because he is so exhausted. The doctor pulls his huge cock out and gets up off the ground with the jar in tow. He takes it over to one of the media stations and returns to the supply room to retrieve his potions and scrubs before coming back. He pours one of them inside with the peanut butter where it merges with the cum and starts glowing. The doctor smiles and documents it on his tablet that was sitting in his pants. He flexes his new muscles and turns back around to look at the shocked man lying on the ground. ‘I just wanted to tell you Dave that the experiment was a rousing success. In fact, I would really like to thank you for imbuing me with muscles I haven’t had in ages. I actually needed someone like you to consume this protein just to see if it was the right combination and fortunately it was. Your brain chemistry improved as a result and you became very articulate which was a surprise. Although I wasn’t expecting you to rape me, I was not going to resist you.’ Davis looks at him in confusion and doesn’t really know where he is going with this. ‘You see Dave, I am part of something bigger, something…..very important. There are others like me that are trying to find ways to turn regular humans into muscle monsters. I think I might be the first one though to successfully keep the human mind from disappearing after transformation. Now, if you will excuse me I need to find a new set of clothes for this great new body of mine. I will send someone in to help clean you up so you can be sent into the recovery ward.’ The doctor grabs the jar, his tablet, and the remaining potions and leaves the area. Davis lays his head back down on the ground and starts sobbing again. With the experiment over, the doctor sets out for his next agenda.

"The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey Chapter 6: Casey Is Discovered The day that Casey Rockland first set foot inside a gym, he was a shy, tongue-tied, lonely, oversized 12-year old. He stood, frightened and abashed, at the front desk of Raw Weight. He had walked around the block for an hour before he found the courage to walk through the dark-glass swinging doors. Miles stood behind the desk. “Yes, son?” he asked after a moment. God, this kid has potential, he thought. Gosh, he’s handsome, Casey thought. He gawked at the huge, veiny arms that poured from the short sleeves of Miles’ sports shirt. The hugely rolling biceps made his dick twitch a little. From the moment Casey first laid eyes on Miles Donovan, he thought he was the handsomest, smartest, most masculine, most muscular man he had ever met in his life. Just the sight of Miles’ hardcore physique, casually displayed in loose-fitting slacks and a navy blue sports shirt boasting the Raw Weight logo, made Casey’s well-hidden, oversized teenage member leap to attention. It was love at first sight. Which was not lost on Miles. “C-can I join?” Casey finally stammered out. “You want to train here?” “Yes, sir.” “How old are you, son?” “Twelve,” answered Casey honestly. Miles paused, and then asked kindly, “Where do you live?” “San Jose Boys’ Home.” Aha, thought Miles. His heart went out to the beautiful, over-sized, sad-faced kid. “Of course you can join. Ever trained before?” Casey’s heart leapt. “No, sir!” “How much can you pay?” “I can work for you, sir! I can clean the locker rooms, and the toilets, and take out the garbage, and paint the walls, and – “ If Miles had allowed it, a tear would have come into his eye. Besides, this kid had overwhelming genetic promise. He held up a hand. “No need for all that. Of course you can train here. We’ll discuss money some other time. Let’s get you started. Do you have workout clothes?” “N-no, sir.” “Well, let’s get you fitted out. Come on along with me. Sid, take the desk,” Miles shot to the flirting young muscleboy trainer who was chatting up one of the wide-eyed fitness babes who trolled the workout floor, looking for available young muscle studs. “And try to keep your mind on your work.” Back to Casey. “What’s your name, son?” “Casey Rockland.” “Well, Casey Rockland, I think you might have found your new home. Let’s see what you got.” He moved out from behind the desk and approached Casey. Casey’s heart was still leaping. Miles Donovan was an astonishing man. Casey had never dreamed that such a huge, handsome, masculine, muscular man would ever take notice of him. Like an eager puppy, he fell into step behind Miles, who was leading him out onto the workout floor. There, dozens of men and women of various sizes, states, dress, and degrees of sweat were toiling away at nameless, complicated activities involving weights, machines, benches, bars, cables, racks, mats, balls, rings, and rope. One or two looked up curiously at Miles and the gawky big kid trotting behind him. William Obatu was one of those who looked up. Already in enrolled in Project Herculaneum, the handsome black African muscle monster Obatu was allowed to steal away from the compound to his home front of Raw Weight (with occasional forays to the 3rd floor, where he regularly held personal worship sessions). Obatu takes a selfie.... “Who’s that big kid?” he asked Miles one evening a few weeks later on the 3rd floor. He was working arms, doing slow concentration curls, generally ignoring the rich twinky boy on his knees before him, begging to worship the bulging cannonball biceps. “What kid?” asked Miles innocently, walking by. Obatu continued doing curls and feigned the same indifference that Miles was displaying. “You know. The big kid. Downstairs. He ever come up here to 3?” “Naw. Too young.” “Pleeeeeaazzze…..” begged the handsome kneeling twink on his knees, reaching up in hopes to get a quick fingertip brush of iron muscles. Obatu glanced down, a little impatiently, and reracked the weight. “Whtchu want?” he demanded, and slapped the kid’s face. Some ‘a’ this?” He flexed his biceps. The kid moaned gratefully. “Shut up, worm,” he commanded. Flexxxxxx… “Boom,” he said. “25 inches. Feel ‘em.” Back to Miles. “Saving him for yourself?” “Nope. Saving him for your boss. And your commanding officer. Is Tyrone any good?” Obatu was perplexed. “Who’s Tyrone?” He continued flexing, gazing admiringly at his peaks. Miles pointed down at the kid who now was both reaching in vain to touch the iron biceps while feverishly licking the heavy downward-pointing bulge in Obatu’s regulation tiny posers. Obatu shuddered with pleasure but covered. “These posers are too damn small.” “You must be used to it by now.” “You never get used to it.” “I repeat, is Tyrone any good?” “What do you care, I’m paying $5,000 a month to be up here,” mumbled Tyrone, his mouth now scooping up the thick black muscle cock that tumbled from Obatu’s straining posers. Obatu glanced up. “Trust fund kid,” Miles explained. “Oh.” He looked back down again and flexed his biceps again, a little more respectfully. “Hope you’re enjoying yourself.” Tyrone moaned passionately and sucked vigorously. After a moment, Miles spoke. “Looks like fun. Mind if I join you?” “Oh, if you’re gonna make a party of it, be my guest,” said Obatu, stepping aside. Miles, still dressed, stepped in and unzipped his pants. His big cock poured out. In an instant Tyrone had both bodybuilders’ cocks in his mouth. “Flex for him. He likes it,” said Obatu. Miles flexed his powerful silver daddy 23-inch biceps. A slight tearing sound was heard. “Damn. Another shirt.” He decided to take it out on Tyrone. He plucked the cock from his mouth and slapped his handsome smooth young cheeks vigorously with the now hard-as-steel shaft. “Nice move,” said Obatu. “Let me try that. Hey, asswipe. Over here.” And he smacked Tyrone’s face with his black cock. Soon Tyrone’s head was whipping from side to side, his face buffeted by heavy cock blows. "Take us both, boy. One after the other," ordered Miles. Tyrone went into a frenzy, sucking Obatu's cock, then twisting his head and sucking Miles' cock, back and forth. "Yeah, good boy," said Miles. A few minutes later the musclemen both shot, coating Tyrone's face with heavy layers of thick, creamy cum. Tyrone moaned as thick spurt after thick spurt emerged from each man's pisshole, painting his face, covering him with cum. “That was fun,” said Obatu. “Yeah, let’s do it again some time,” said Miles, walking away. "Clean that up, boy," he ordered as he strode away, squatting slightly as a zipped up, putting his heavy cock away. Obatu resumed his workout, Miles went back to his office. Tyrone lay on a bench, ecstatically spent. Casey took to lifting weights immediately. He had a genius for developing his own start-up training program, and he poured over the muscle magazines he could find. During computer hours he browed the net for muscle information, training routines, and reading all about the muscle stars. He was going to be one, one day, himself. He was determined. Then they’d see. But, gosh, it was hard work. Lifting hurt. It was painful. It was slow. It took time. He was stunned at the beginning at just how much work it was. One afternoon after he'd been lifting only a few weeks, he was sitting dejected in the locker room. Alone. Miles, coming through with towels, saw him. He understood. He put the towels away, and came over and sat with him on the bench awhile. They were silent together a few minutes. "It hurts." Casey finally said. "Yes, it does." "And it's hard." "Yes, it is. Not everyone can do it." "I didn't know it would be this hard." Miles smiled, and put a paternal arm around Casey's shoulders, patting him with a giant paw. "If it were easy, everyone would be big. It is not magic. You can't take a pill and get bigger. People who think so are crazy and wrong. There's no growth serum. I repeat Casey, there's no magic. It doesn't exist. You can't eat a magic cookie, and just get huge. And people who think so are fools. And dreamers." "But I'm a dreamer....." Casey said sadly. "Yes, you are a dreamer, too, but you're not foolish. You know what work is. Hard work. It's growth with effort. Growth without effort doesn't exist. It's an empty dream, a useless fantasy. There are no super heroes, Casey. There's only hard work. Years and years and years of it. But I'll tell you a secret......" he leaned in. Casey looked up. "If you keep doing it? every day, you'll get a little closer to your dream." A light began to shine in Casey's eyes. A tear formed. He looked up at Donovan, now standing over him. "You mean that?" "I do. And Casey? You'll achieve your dream. If you keep working." He paused and stepped back, hitching his thumbs in his belt. "You had a good workout today. You're pushing the limits. But now you need to rest. G'wan back to the home and eat some chicken. Rest tomorrow. No, rest two days. Don't want to see you back here until Saturday." He smiled. "But on Saturday? I'll train with you. And we're gonna fucking murder those weights." Casey's face shone like the sun. He nodded, eagerly, unable to speak a moment. "Sure, Miles! I'll go back and eat chicken and sleep and see you Saturday!!" He got up and began packing his bag. "Work on those abs. You can do crunches tomorrow as long as you don't use weight," he said as he left the locker room. ****** As Casey trained at Raw Weight it was soon apparent that as he gained strength and grew, he needed more than three times as much food. Sister Anne in the kitchen, sympathetic to the big, sweet, dumb, exceptionally handsome kid, supplied him with the extra portions of meat whenever she could get away with it, unaware that the Home’s director, Sister Marietta, had deliberately turned a blind eye. She was even guilty of making sure there were plenty of steaks and chicken breasts on hand. Four years passed. Casey trained like a maniac. He would have been there every day, all day, but Miles forbad it, making him aware of the need for rest days. "Your body won't grow muscles unless you rest. You want to get big?" "Yes, sir! I want to be huge!" "Then you stay away 3 days a week. Eat a lot of protein. Do your ab exercises every night. But no weights. You wanna grow and get big you gotta give your body a rest." Casey, deeply in love, filled with awe, was all the same a little frightened of Miles, and shied away from him for a long time. Miles, understanding the nature of hero worship, gave the handsome kid a wide berth, encouraging him in a business-like way as he made muscle gains. Sensing even more talent, after Casey had been at Raw Weights about 2 years, he introduced him one afternoon to Ramon Ramon, a stern, grizzled, totally ripped, if slightly punch drunk old Puerto Rican extreme cage fighter who always seemed to be at Miles’ gym, as if he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Soon Casey was taking boxing and kickboxing lessons from Ramon Ramon. He began running, jumping rope, lifting the huge truck tires in the corner of the 1st floor, and working out with a punching bag. Ramon was also into wrestling. He bought Casey his first singlet. For hours after Casey's workouts they grappled on Raw Weight’s stained old wrestling mats, bathed in sweat. Ramon was old and grey but had solidly ripped, strong muscles, and Casey loved the feel of the old iron warrior’s abs against his abs as rolled around together on the floor. When Ramon locked his legs around young Casey’s neck and squeezed, Casey always got what the boys in the home called ‘a boner.’ Big and hard, it poled up in the singlet and would have embarrassed him had Ramon not been so cool about it. “Big tool. Get you a bigger singlet next time. You need a scoche more room in the crotch.” Ramon’s legs were clamped onto 16-year old Casey’s 22-inch neck. He howled. He had never been happier. His erection pointed high to the ceiling. “Go ahead and take care of it,” said Ramon. “Be good for ya. Young guys gotta cum.” He let go of Casey’s left arm. Casey shouted and stroked with his freed hand and his cum shot to the ceiling and plopped onto his abs and the wrestling mat. He was never embarrassed around Ramon. “Think you got the biggest cock I ever did see,” said the old wrestler, his iron vice grip holding Casey in a headlock now. The cum continued to shoot. “It’s healthy. Like to see it.” And Casey groaned happily with pain as Ramon squeezed harder. They wrestled in a pool of cum, soon made even greater as Ramon shot all over his steely abs. “Thought I’d join you,” he said. "Be sure to clean that up before you hit the showers." "Yes, sir!" said Casey, happily spent. For two more years Casey followed a strict regimen of quiet hard-core muscle building. He grew and grew. Miles was taking notice. By the time he was 17, it was clear that he had extraordinary bodybuilding gifts. His dedication to lifting was unquestioned, his genetics nothing less than astonishing. One afternoon at the gym during one of his workouts, Miles Donovan glanced out of office window at the big, muscular young teen in the middle of the workout floor. Casey stood alone on the workout floor, his red t-shirt dripping with sweat. He was insanely propelling himself through a 5th set of unduly punishing biceps curls, curling 125 pounds. His face was crimson, his eyes bulged, his teeth were gritted like a madman, thick cords of veins pounded in his neck. His meaty young biceps were being punished into new growth levels. Miles watched the 16-year old boy through the window closely. “Guess it’s time,” he said to himself. He speed-dialed Dr. Anton Zaftig at Valhalla Labs on his mobile. It was time. He hardly knew nor cared what who Zaftig was, or what this “research” was about. All Donovan knew is that he was supposed to be on the lookout for ‘special’ muscle - from the young men who showed unusual potential, to the older, more weather-beaten gym rats who were so far past feeling any pain that all they could do was pack on more and more beef – as long as they were able to keep a balance with their abs, that is. And – as long as they had other talents as well, including square jaws, clean skin, clear eyes, and redoubtable priapic gifts. Zaftig had been quietly paying Donovan for years to spot potential talent. And the size and regularity of Zaftig’s checks were profoundly motivating. “Zaftig?” A mumbled affirmative. “There’s a kid who’s been training here a few years who I think you might want to check out….. No, he’s only 17, but he’s huge. Yes. Really huge. Yes, he’s good, very good, and I think he could be great. I’ve been watching him quite awhile now. Hmmm? Two years. No, three. Regularly. Yeah.” Donovan paced a little and glanced out his window to the gym floor. Casey was putting himself through his 6th set of curls. 15 reps per set. Now at 160 lbs. “Weight? He’s 220. At age 17. Yes, really. 220. Height? Get this: he’s 6’4”. And I don’t think he’s done growing. Yes, superb symmetry. What?" He sighed at Zaftig's question. "Yeah, he's hung, too. Biggest goddam tool I ever saw." Another mumbled question. "What? Okay. I’ll call you back. Ten minutes.” He hung up. He got up from his chair and walked out onto the floor up to the muscleboy. “Awesome. Awesome young muscle. Congratulations,” he said breezily. Casey was in heaven. “Gee thanks, Mr. Donovan!” he said. Casey was always excited when the handsome muscleman praised him. “Let’s see those guns,” said Miles. Casey was only too happy to comply, eagerly flexing his powerful young biceps. Miles stroked them appreciatively, and then casually flexed his own right arm. Casey stared. “Wow,” he breathed. He reached forward to touch it. “Go ahead,” said Miles. “Stroke it.” As Casey approached respectfully and softly ran his fingers over Miles’ thick biceps, the older man glanced down. And was startled. The bulge in Casey’s gym shorts was poled out about a foot from his hips. He didn’t seem to notice, transfixed as he was stroking Miles’ biceps. Miles flexed a few more times for him, and with great self-control, walked away. He called Zaftig back. “Yeah, he gets hard when he touches muscles. Okay. No, I don’t think he does drink. Or smoke. One thing, though. I don’t think he’s the brightest light in the billboard. Does it matter? No? Okay. Yes. I will. I’ll keep you posted.” It was that afternoon that Donovan smilingly informed Casey that his membership to Raw Weight would be free of charge for the foreseeable future. He clapped him breezily on his powerful young shoulders, and was slightly astonished at the hardness of the muscle beneath his palm. For his part, Casey was overjoyed. He didn’t stop to examine why such good fortune might have his way, and what might be expected of him in exchange in the future. He continued to pump enthusiastically, and pack on the muscle. The kid’s not bad, thought Donovan, watching Casey joyfully burn through a grueling set of 20 reps of 400-pound deadlifts. ******* Just a few days later that Casey Rockland finally decided to do something about the gang who had been pummeling him in the dorm shower room for years. Already it was taking more and more of the boys in the gang to hold him down during his beatings, which were growing far less frequent as he got bigger and bigger. One day they stopped completely, but the boy’s hostility still festered in the air. Casey was getting ready for payback. Ramon had showed him how, too. “You got a fearsome punch, kid,” he said one afternoon, flat on his back in the ring where Casey had just knocked him, his eye blackened. “Lead with the left. You got it.” One night after lights out, a few of the boys circled his bed. He looked up at them, bleary-eyed and half asleep. “What?” he asked. “Pull his shorts down!“ “You do it! It’s gay!” “I wanna see!” came a pipsqueak voice. Casey felt a dozen hands pin him down in the half-light, and his shorts were yanked to his knees. His adolescent penis, tumescent in the steamy night, was exposed. He was humiliated. And mad. “Goddamn!” one boy yelled. “It’s huge!” “It’s like a monster!” “Hey, Banana Man!” “See, I told ya!” “He’s a freak!” “Casey the Freak!” the boys chanted, and began to pummel him. Casey curled into a ball on his mattress, gritted his teeth, and took it tearfully. “Next time,” he said himself as the boys rained his body with their weak punches. "Next time, they get it." On what turned out to be his last day in the San Jose Boys’ Home, a gang of 18 biggest boys circled him during morning showers, laughing and pointing at his monster penis for the last time. "Okay," he said. "You turds have laughed at me for the last time. He swung a fist, very deliberately, and caught the ringleader square on the jaw. A tooth flew out and the boy hit the wall of the shower. Methodically Casey began to punch his way through the crowd of now-terrified boys. He was surprised at how easy it was. When the steam cleared, all 18 lay on the ground with an array of blackened eyes, broken noses, fractured jaws, and missing teeth. Casey sported a huge shiner himself. It was worth it. That afternoon 5 ambulances pulled up to the front gates and took the boys away for bandaging in the San Juan ER. Four boys were required to stay overnight for observation. Sister Marietta called him into her office to reprimand him. As she always did with the bad boys, she bent him over her lap and spanked his firm young butt with a ruler. She broke three of them before she finally gave up, perplexed at how hard the young man’s behind had become. Afterwards, rubbing his stinging bottom, Casey ran back to his room and cried. No one loves me, he cried. That night he ran away forever from the San Jose Boy’s Home. He went to the gym, and still sniffling, emptied out his locker. Donovan watched him from the window in his office as Casey, in tears tucked his favorite do-rag in his back jeans pocket and slumped out into the night. Casey figured he had to leave town, although he had no idea where exactly he was going to go. Miles picked up his mobile phone. He figured the time had come. A hour later, Dr. Zaftig found Casey sitting alone and dejectedly in the San Jose bus station. Dr. Zoloft was in transit from the city to the lab facility in the countryside outside town when Donovan had called him hurriedly. He did a fast detour in his minivan, walked swiftly into the bus station, and took a good look at the huge kid bursting out of his t-shirt, sitting alone on a bench in the corner. He knew right away he had another promising specimen for Project Herculaneum. Miles Donovan was never wrong. Zaftig walked unhesitatingly up to Casey and introduced himself. He talked about a bright, golden future for the young bodybuilder. Innocent Casey stared at him uncomprehendingly for a few minutes. Then he smiled through his tears. In the end, he went with the doctor with the funny name. He never questioned anything. He was just grateful. Casey moved into the cadet facility at the base of the mountain leading up to the main compound that night. The next morning, Dr. Irving appeared in Sister Marietta’s office and signed for his release. He flashed some government identification for her, muttered some Federal mumbo jumbo, announced that Valhalla Labs had invested in Casey’s training for four years, and petitioned the court for the right to take Casey into custody. Sister Marietta held up her hand to cut him off, offering no objections. “Take him. He’s too big for us now. We can’t afford to feed him anymore, and the other boys are now terrified of him. Besides, four of his classmates are still in the hospital. It would be best for all if he left.” As she signed the papers offered by Dr. Irving, she added, “But please take good care of him. Casey is a sweet and simple young man. He needs love.” No other paperwork seemed necessary, and though it was far from being anything like a formal adoption, it was enough for the Good Sister. She was relieved to see the boy go – he now always seemed to be hungry, and she had been forced to replace Sister Anne in the kitchen because the boy’s appetite was breaking the food budget. She was glad he could go somewhere where, hopefully, he would get his required 6 square meals a day. Beyond that, she wouldn’t worry. Casey had always been a good boy – well, until the day before. She knew he’d make the right decisions for himself. Or not. Once in the program, Zaftig fast-tracked Casey’s growth. Under Zaftig’s watchful eye and the encouragement of the cadet trainers, he worked harder than anyone he had yet encountered. And the food? He couldn’t believe it – six full meals a day! Two days a week he was required to remain near his quarters and relax. The other five days of the week were taken up with schooling, enhanced nutrition, supervised meditation, running drills, bicycling, swimming, gymnastics practice, small arms training, and nightly injections of Protein 21b, Zaftig’s laboratory serum developed under the most rigorous of testing. Within two months, he was a full cadet in the program, and in less than 2 years he was approaching the threshold of muscular perfection. Most of the time for those years, he was alone with Zaftig, Dr. Irving, his trainers, and some of the Project cadets. He had been restrained from meeting the other 19 men, who trained and socialized on their own in the main building of the facility. He didn’t notice it just at first, but during the next two years he couldn’t help but wonder at the increasing volume of his emissions. He had no inkling that Protein 21b might be causing his sperm production to gradually increase exponentially. Still, during the two years he came to understand that there might be some link between the clear liquid in the daily injections and the increasingly generous volume of semen that spurted out of his cock nightly. He was also amazed that his cock itself appeared to be getting even bigger. He had always been hugely hung, but – this was crazy. At first it required little more than a washrag to clean up after himself, but in time, larger and larger bath towels were required to mop up the flow after cumming. His sheets were badly always badly stained in the morning, and – strangely – every night he found they had been replaced by crisp, new sheets. He never knew who might be doing this for him, and over time his initial embarrassment about his sticky sheets faded away into the generally dark, accumulating volume of unanswered questions. After he passed his high school graduation equivalency exams, Zaftig decided he was ready to take it to the next level. It was time to formally present the boy to the 19. Casey was 18 years old and in the best condition of his young life to date. Still, he was lonely. At night he lay alone in his little room, gazed out the window at the moon and the stars, and beat his humongous meat off fiercely. He dreamed of being the biggest, strongest man in the world. Everyone would love him. And he would protect everyone. It was the sweetest dream in the world, and it was always enough to charge him to a satisfying climax. Then he’d roll over and fall into a deep sleep, hopeful for better days.

Davis rushes his way into the lab’s bathroom and locks the door behind him. He feels very strange and wonders if he might have done something earlier in the day to cause such discomfort. After about a minute of walking around the toilet and urinal, he turns to look at himself in the mirror above the sink. His green eyes stare back at him as he makes a few goofy gestures. He rubs his black hair making the brown highlights shine in the lights. He then proceeds to rub his smooth lightly tanned face and takes a few breaths. There are a few knocks on the bathroom door. ‘Dave? What did you do? The tests we have been running seem to be going well, is there something you need to tell me?’ The doctor in charge of Davis’s tests is Ross Bloodstone, a researcher trying to come up with a way to create a stronger protein without any horrible side effects in the food supply. He suspects that Davis may have eaten something he wasn’t supposed to and is possibly about to go through some kind of drastic change. He wants to document what will happen next, but he hopes that Davis can keep himself in check as he goes through with it. ‘Okay Dave. Listen to me carefully. Did you eat some of the honey peanut butter on my desk?’ Davis’s eyes dilate a bit as he listens to the doctor’s questions. He tries not to panic, but it is getting harder to not think about what he has done. ‘Oh shit, oh shit! Damnit Dr. Bloodstone, I could smell it and it sort of summoned me towards it. I grabbed some of the wheat bread on the lunch counter and took it over to the peanut butter. The taste was incredible, I had two sandwiches. Oh fuck, I am going to get really sick now?’ The doctor smiles a bit and pulls up a chair close to where he is standing and sits in it in front of the door. He pulls his tablet out from his lab coat and boots it up to start documenting the whole scenario. ‘Just listen to me okay. You may be experiencing some pain coming from within your body in a little bit, I want you to relax your body for me and keep calm. The peanut butter contains an experimental protein that hasn’t been tested fully on humans yet. We discussed this before remember? I just never told you that it was injected into the peanut butter.’ Davis remembers the conversation and goes to sit over in a corner away from everything. Dr. Bloodstone leans down and peeks under the door to see where the man is sitting and gets back up to sit in his chair. He can hear Davis muttering to himself in a mean tone. ‘Do you feel anything unusual happening to you Dave?’ ‘No doctor, should I come out so you can take a look at me?’ ‘NO DAVE! You stay put this has to be contained in a secure area. Where you are at is perfectly fine.’ Davis starts sweating from his head as it starts to trickle down his face and neck. His grey dress shirt is beginning to look damp from the perspiration forming under his pits. He loosens his blue necktie so he can breathe a little better. He looks down to see if he is sweating from his legs since he is wearing a really nice pair of black trousers and notices a couple of wet spots coming from his quads. He jumps up and starts pacing again. He lets out a few sounds that makes Dr. Bloodstone wonder if he is starting to have trouble keeping it together. ‘Dave? Tell me the truth. Are you feeling a bit strange now? I need to know so I can document the effects.’ Davis stops in his tracks and immediately feels his stomach tighten up on the inside. He wonders if he will start to go through some kind of physical change. He had heard about this through a mutual friend who stated that Bloodstone Labs was into some kind of new biological research. He had volunteered because he needed the cash since his job was only part-time. The odd feeling is starting to move up into his lungs now making him breathe a little deeper and slower. ‘Uhh doctor…..*breathes heavy*…..it is getting harder…..for me to…..breathe. I am…..so fucking scared right now.’ ‘It will be alright Dave, just relax, breathe slowly and let it make its way through you. It will be a slow and methodical process, but it can’t be stopped. You will probably have a sense of panic come over you shortly because it will get to your brain. Just tell me what is happening.’ Davis winces as he feels his abdominal area pop a few times. He thinks that the muscles around his midsection are trying to grow or something and reaches down to rub them from the outside of his shirt. A few small ridges form against his fingers which makes him jump back a bit. His shirt starts to stick to them as they glue themselves to the wet fabric. Several more pops radiate from his pecs as he rushes over to look at his chest in the bathroom mirrors. ‘Ahh……uhhhh damnit…..doctor my chest is popping and I…..think it is trying to swell or something.’ He can see them trying to jump a few times before they start to slowly grow. The space between his pecs and his dress shirt is shrinking as they touch the fabric on his shirt. His nipples protrude and are entirely visible as he stares at them intensely. The sensation of them brushing against his shirt sends tremors down to his crotch as he feels his balls trying to swell. ‘Ohh gawd doctor…..I am feeling so much…..uhhhh sensation……*his legs start swelling*…..oh shit oh shit…..*feels his cock jumping in his boxers*……yep I am panicking doctor…..please make it stop.’ ‘I can’t make it stop Dave, you have to just relax and let it flow through you. Your body is just fulfilling its needs. Don’t worry I am still documenting all of this.’ Davis feels his quads and hamstrings stretching and pulling the fabric in his trousers tighter than before as his cock starts to lengthen and push itself down his right leg. He turns to the side to look at the back of his shirt as he feels his delts and shoulders popping before they start to push his dress shirt up towards his head. His feet have now completely filled his shoes as he hears them starting to rip through the front of the leather. His breathing is now greatly compromised as his entire body is being crushed inside his clothes. His ass is now close to bursting through the back of his trousers as his glutes flex. *heavy breathing* ‘Uhhhh……I can’t speak…..fuck…..i just want out of these clothes…..’ The last parts of Davis to start growing are his arms which sound like air mattresses filling up. The stretching makes the man yell out as the muscles in his forearms swell to the point that his shirt just rips down the seams of his sleeves. Several thick veins are visible over top of the huge baseball-sized muscles that he is staring at in the mirror. He watches intently at his growing biceps and triceps which make quick work of his sleeves. His arms pulse with incredible power as he studies their vascularity. He raises his arms up which makes his lats bust through the sides of his shirt. The huge wings flare out and rip the armpits completely open. The massive hairy pits reek of testosterone which immediately reaches Davis’s nose. He can feel his mind starting to change as his quads and ass destroy his boxers and trousers. The dense leg muscles spill out of the open seams as his calves continue to grow. His shoes disintegrate under the pressure of his growing feet. ‘RRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAWWWWRRRRR!’ The man flexes his chest as every shirt button goes flying in the air. His immense pecs destroy the front of his shirt as he watches himself expand in the mirror. He tears the rest of the shirt off to admire his upper body. The veins in his neck have doubled in size as his face and head thicken. His cock drools precum on the ground as it dangles off to the side. His calves break free from their confines which cause his trousers to just blow in the wind. He grunts and yanks the rest of the fabric off his lower body and stares at himself in the mirror. *still grunting* ‘FUCK YEAH! GAWD I HAVE NEVER FELT SO FUCKING FREE! *flexes his 20” pythons* MMMMM I AM SO FUCKING HORNY! *does a most muscular* FUUUCCCKKKK! RAWR! Doctor, you have given me the greatest gift ever. I want more! Will I get even bigger than this?’ Dr. Bloodstone keeps silent to try and step away from the door. He then rushes into a nearby room that is insulated to prevent anything from getting in. He shuts the door behind him and moves over to a station full of monitors. He turns on the one that overlooks the bathroom and activates a speaker. He can see the 275 pound hulk standing in front of the bathroom mirrors completely soaked from head to toe stroking his 11” tool and grunting. ‘Dave, listen to me. You are letting your inhibitions get the best of you, I want you to try and not get carried away with this. The protein is probably building up in your testicles now so do me a favor and cum for me so we can finish this.’ Davis looks up at the camera and laughs in his new deep voice. He walks over to it and makes his cock swing back and forth slapping his quads. He growls and does a double bicep pose. ‘Come on doctor, why don’t you come in here and play with me. I won’t hurt you too badly I promise. So you are telling me that if I cum, then this will cause me to shrink back to where I was?’ Bloodstone pauses for a few moments and speaks. ‘Well Davis, I really have no idea. All I know is, you consumed enough of the protein to cause a 100 pound growth cycle to occur and it released your mind from its restraints. You’re cognizant which is good, but I don’t trust you.’ Davis makes motions with his huge hands like he is summoning the doctor down. ‘Doctor?…..Ross?…..come play with me…..I will just get upset if you don’t come back and destroy that puny door that is supposed to keep me in here. You know I will just try and find the rest of that peanut butter because I want to fucking grow out of this building. FUCK! That makes me so damn horny just thinking about it.’ Bloodstone realizes that he has left the key components of his formula out on the lab floor and opens the door to run after them. At the same time, he hears Davis bashing in the bathroom door. After three punches, the huge bodybuilder’s veiny forearm goes through the wood and reaches down to rip the door handle completely out. The frantic doctor quickly shuffles through his vials and grabs potions and liquids before racing back into the panic room. Davis breaks down the door and races down the hall towards the doctor. He is not fast enough to get there as Bloodstone manages to lock it down. Davis pounds relentlessly on it and yells in disgust. After a few seconds he stops pounding and just stands there. He laughs and wonders if Bloodstone can see him in the hallway. ‘So……can you see me doctor? What are you trying to keep from me? I just want to play. I won’t hurt you because I know you can fucking grow me into a gawd. *can smell the peanut butter* *starts laughing* You didn’t take it? Are you kidding me?’ Davis walks over to it on the lunch table and picks it up. He finds a camera above his head and waves the jar at it. He opens the lid up and scoops some of it out. He smiles and rubs it on his huge sweaty cock. He strokes it a few times and moans before laughing again. ‘Does it absorb doctor? I fucking love the fact that you left this out. What are you up to? You want me to fucking hulkout don’t you? *looks down at his cock and sees it spilling precum all over the floor* Oh fucking yeah, my body is so hungry for this. Say goodbye to your lab doctor because I am getting ready to tear this place apart.’ Before he licks his fingers he stops and looks up at the camera again in the lunch area. He gets one of the chairs from a nearby table and pushes it up to the wall where the camera is. He stands up on it and looks directly into the camera. His deep green eyes sparkle as he cocks his head to the side and smirks. He flexes one of his huge guns and leans over to kiss it before running his tongue all around it. He moans each time he does this. Then he turns back around and looks into the camera again. ‘Why would you let me do this doctor? I think you are getting your rocks off on this myself…..or……you are wanting me to rampage out in the middle of the city and fucking hurt people. Yeah…..I think that is it. I’m on to you, Doctor Bloodstone.’ He grabs the camera and rips it completely off the mount on the wall. Bloodstone tries to flip a few buttons to find another nearby camera but Davis is nowhere to be seen. The doctor goes on to the loudspeaker to reach the entire complex to get Davis’s attention. ‘Dave, listen to me. Just calm down and I will be out in a little bit. We can figure something out on how to resolve your issue I promise.’ Before he can get another word in, he hears a huge crash come from the other side of the room and realizes that Davis has found another way in. The bodybuilder is heard moving his way through one of the vents in the ceiling which makes the doctor try to go out the front entrance. The door doesn’t budge though which makes him really nervous. After a few seconds, the doctor grabs his potions and runs into the supply closet located nearby. Davis falls through the ceiling and lands on his feet. He roars in delight as debris sticks to his body. He tosses the jar of peanut butter over to the side to where he can get to it again. ‘I know for a fact doctor that you are in here because I bent the door frame to this room so that you couldn’t get out. Now come out from where you are so we can have a discussion.’ There is no response from the doctor which aggravates Davis. He rips up one of the monitor stations and growls flexing his huge muscles. ‘FUCK! I think I may have to eat some more of that peanut butter. My body really wants to fucking destroy this room. You are forcing me to make a dangerous decision Bloodstone. Get the fuck out here right now!’ The supply room door opens and Bloodstone walks out. Davis gets an evil grin on his face and starts to walk over to him. The doctor sweats profusely before walking backwards into the supply room again. ‘DOCTOR BLOODSTONE, stop moving right now. You are going to feel me up whether you want to or not.’ The doctor is face to face with the huge man and reaches out to feel the huge pulsing veins in his arms. Davis flexes them making the muscles swell. Bloodstone calmly runs his hands up and down them which makes Davis moan deeply. The big man takes the doctor’s hands and puts them on his heaving pecs which are continuously dripping sweat. He bounces them making the doctor grin a little. ‘You look amazing Dave and I think you can be happy looking like this. I just don’t understand why you didn’t already consume the peanut butter. What changed in you to make you have to think about it?’ Davis picks him up and looks him directly in the eyes. ‘Ohh I am definitely going to eat it doctor, I just want to try out an experiment of my own too.’ To be continued…..

The first two chapters of my muscle novel-in-progress, The Twenty. Links to chapters of "The Twenty": "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 3, 4, 5 - White Cap Training / Hardcore Muscle / A Brief History of Casey Rockland "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 6 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapters 7, 8 - Hardcore Training, Part 1 / Tiffany's Talent "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapters 9, 10 - Good for Morale "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 11: Casey Meets the Muscle Squad "The Twenty" Chapter 12, Part 1: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 12: Part 2 Casey vs. Karim Abdul: A Very Turkish Wrestling Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 13: After the Match "The Twenty" - Chapter 14: In Which Casey Discovers He Likes to Get Worshipped "The Twenty" - Chapter 15: Casey's First Interview with Sergeant Moster "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress. Chapter 16 - Hardcore Training Part 2: Casey’s First Herculaneum Workout, and What Happened After "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 17 - The Presentation "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 18 - The Musclemen Revealed: Inside Zaftig's Lab "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress - Chapter 19 - Further Encounters, Part 1 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 20 - Pose and Approve: Further Encounters, Part 2 "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 21 - Sam and Casey "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 22 - Field Trips for Worship, Part 1 "The Twenty" - Chapter 23 - Field Trips, Part 2 – Casey Rediscovers Muscle Worship, and Makes a New Friend "The Twenty" - A Muscle Novel in Progress: Chapter 24 - Further Encounters 5: Sam and Casey Again, and Moster and the Cadets Precis: Valhalla Labs is a remote mountaintop Northern California military facility, overseen by genius muscle growth scientist Dr. Ira Zaftig and CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster, a 7'-0" ripped and hung 395-pound black muscle giant. There, 18 extraordinary bodybuilder-soldiers live, train, and play together, overseen by Moster's strict rules and brutal regimen for muscular perfection. Known as Project Herculaneum, the men serve as Dr. Zaftig's lab rats, receiving regular injections of P-21, a specially developed enzyme that facilitates muscle and strength growth in the very few bodybuilders whose systems can withstand it. The goal: to create an army of supermen, whose strength, size, and combat skills are unparalleled in the modern military. Unfortunately for the Project, the soldiers' enhanced strength and dramatically increased muscular size is accompanied by a corresponding increase in priapic size as well, along with a rapidly diminishing sense of social restraint and inhibitions. And along the way, the men's extraordinary physiques prompt their own extreme muscle fantasies into a daily acting-out sexual reality. Into the mix comes the twentieth muscle god, young Casey Rockland, a lonely, handsome, super-hung 19-year old bodybuilding giant. Inducted by Dr. Zaftig into the top-secret government muscle strength and growth project, Casey comes to learn the ropes amongst the muscle giants, whose hunger for hardcore training is matched only by their sexual appetites and growing fantasies, including their insatiable need to receive muscle worship. Casey's innocence, simplicity, and his growing need to receive both love and muscle worship threaten the very core of the decades-long Project, itself only now beginning to suggest its full potential. Introduction The 3-story steel, glass, and concrete compound was snugly nestled in the misty rural hills that rolled gently inland from the ocean, where the Santa Ana winds met the hot air rising from the distant desert to the east. Poised at the edge of the highest peak of the Santa Cruz Mountains, the 4,000-acre gated complex was just barely visible from the discreet entrance on Pacific Coast Highway below. A single sign stood at the locked automatic entrance gate, reading - Private No Outlet The private drive wound up the mountain, snaking through dark woods of redwood and pine, finally arriving at the labyrinth of vine-covered high concrete walls, topped with barbed wire, which surrounded the entire complex. Closed circuit cameras marked every turn of the road. Manicured lawns and open fields could be occasionally glimpsed through thick veils of leaves, branches and red rock. 350 miles south was Los Angeles. San Jose was the closest city, 30 miles away. Local residents drove past the gate on Pacific Coast Highway, wondering about the mysterious multi-million dollar complex. The place had seemed to spring up overnight, seemingly from nothing, more than 10 years before. The traffic in and out was largely limited to food delivery and supply vans. Unseen generators hummed through the night. The people who worked there appeared to be in residence. Was it an athletic training facility? Low planes flying overhead clearly identified a likely indoor Olympic-sized swimming pool, bicycle trails, playing fields, and more. There were also a few outer buildings that appeared to be well-appointed dormitories, with small lawns and private drives. A building attached to the central core might possibly be a central hall, with sizable private, enclosed terraces open to the sky. Convoys of SUVs, all bearing the logo VALHALLA LABS were parked in a half-empty parking lot in front of the main building. Occasionally local delivery men, bringing whole sides of raw beef, fresh vegetables, lab equipment, chemicals, electrical supplies, and – this was the most perplexing part – hundreds of tons of expensive exercise equipment would spot one or two dozen young men on bicycles, pedaling furiously through the high hills, always followed at a discreet distance by an unmarked black car and by the one of the SUVs. From a distance the men on the bicycles appeared to be unusually large. In any event, the local deliverymen weren’t talking. Most would just shrug and say they didn’t know. Besides, they’d signed a confidentiality agreement barring their conversation about what they might happen to observe within. And since no one appeared unduly nervous about the place, over the years the matter dropped. Still, the rural locals who hung out at the motorcycle bars and music clubs nestled deep in the hills continued to buzz. Most assumed that it was some kind of military base and laboratory. Others noted the apparent residence buildings from the air, and thought it was either a private Olympic training compound, or some kind of crazy health nut cult commune. Certainly it was neither a prison nor a university. But no one really knew what it was. And over the years, little by little, the mysteriously well-tended commune was enveloped in the mists of revered local mystery, a legend the hill people of the coast, who were mostly Northern California biker clubs, surfers, horsemen, and artichoke farmers, relished and loved, without knowing anything about it. Remote, mysterious, un-Google-able, not listed on any map, no one really knew what the place was, and even less was understood. However, since it was apparent that no nuclear waste was being discharged, no one worried. No one appeared on either San Jose or San Francisco streets with appeals to join some far-out religion. No shots were fired in the night. And because, in fact, the whole compound was refreshingly green, paid its local bills on time, and was mysteriously quiet at night, for years no one really worried about the place. If only they had known it was the wellspring of the Fountain of Eternal Youth. Or, as it came to be called years later, after all the fuss and scandal and stories had finally faded into the misty aura of legend – the Lourdes of Bodybuilding. ********* This is the story about the day that it all changed forever. THE TWENTY A Government Issue Adult Cartoon -XXX- Muscle Fantasy By Joey Silverado This book is dedicated to Tiny Yokum – and to all his fans, past, present, and future. From Dr. Warren Irving’s Notes List sorted according to date of entry into program. Click tables to see details. Chapter 1: Project Herculaneum October 20th, 2021 1855 Hours In Valhalla Labs’ 15,000 square foot soundproofed gym, 18 of the longtime test subjects of Project Herculaneum were approaching the second hour of their balls-to-the-wall workout. On the west wall, one-way visibility windows framed the magnificent mountaintop panoramas in the growing twilight. As the sun disappeared, the glass increasingly glowed with the golden reflections of a roomful of massive male musculature. The workout floor crackled with the sounds of iron clangs, grunts, groans, and ecstatic roars of pain, shouts and taunts. The air was thick with hot sweat, crotch and armpit smell. Low ranking solders in the US Army, and ranging in age from 20 to 45, the 18 were, to use the argot of the world of male bodybuilding, freaks. Huge muscle freaks. Animals. Swole. Jacked to the balls. ‘Roided to the tits. Except that they weren’t ‘roided at all. Every man on the squad was clean and clear of the usual bodybuilding drugs required to build massively muscled specimens of uncommon size and strength. And they weren’t just conventionally “huge” either. All of the soldiers of Project Herculaneum were fired by one supplement only. P21. And Project Herculaneum, now approaching the end of its first decade, was finally yielding the astonishing results promised from the beginning back in 2007. The Project Director and Genius Factotum, Dr. Ira Zaftig, had long dubbed his lab creation enzyme P21, “The Fountain of Youth.” The wellspring of eternal energy, strength, youth, beauty, and sexual power. Perhaps the secret of life itself. The Men of Project Herculaneum thought of P21 differently, though. “It’s the straightest line between two mostly unreachable points: freaky muscle, and ba-boom!” Or so said Private 1st Class Dan Gunst, a 6’-10”, 375-pound mountain of ripped muscle whose growth on the enzyme had surprised even project founder Zaftig. Off to one side, the 19th man on the squad squatted on a bench and closely surveyed the men's training with half-lidded eyes. By far the largest man in the room, CO Staff Sergeant Rod Moster’s muscular perfection was unparalled, even in this room of freakishly huge men. Squared-jawed and blindingly handsome, 44-year old Rod Moster was 7’- 0” tall, weighing in at 395 ripped and shredded pounds, a black mountain of solidly ridged muscle: deeply separated, profoundly striated sheer muscle mass, boasting a body fat index of 1.2%. Dr. Zaftig was the heart and genius creator of Project Herculaneum. The squad and their CO were the ongoing subjects of his personally supervised “Top Secret” project. For years, the men had been receiving regular lab-controlled injections of Zaftig’s carefully developed muscle growth enzyme, P21. Sergeant Moster, on the enzyme for more than a decade, was the project’s powerful senior officer and unopposed trainer. Yet in spite of Moster's formidable size and strength, he was soon to be equaled by two of the soldiers in his direct command, Corporal Karim Abdul and Private Gunst. He knew it, too. The workout room met Moster’s strict standards. Room temperature was always set exactly at 90o. Moster would not allow air-conditioning on the workout floor. After all, sweat lubricates muscles and encourages growth. No one disputed Moster's rules. On a sprung workout floor measuring 10,000 square feet, there were two dozen squat racks, 42 benches, 8 rows with hundreds of dumbbells ranging from 5 to 300 pounds, and hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of gleaming machines, standing bicycles, elliptical tracks, cable racks, ropes, belts, grips, and stacks of weights. Hundreds and hundreds of tons of weights. In the distant corners of the gym, a few normal-sized Valhalla lab assistants scurried silently in the shadows with video equipment, towels, heavy water jugs, and cleaning equipment. The men on the floor never paid any attention to the pipsqueak lab rats, as they called them. Occasionally, one of the pipsqueaks meekly approached Sgt. Moster with questions or a need for direction. Moster was always gracious, brief and business-like with lab underlings. They were Zaftig’s people, after all, and he appreciated that it just might be difficult to recruit them. More importantly, the lab rats were not, after all, muscle worshippers. Geeky science majors somehow matriculated from Berkeley and Stanford, their applications for their employment were most thoroughly scanned to determine both their dedication to science, and their lack of sexual interest in the project subjects. Past circumstances had indicated that the men of Project Herculaneum were unusually vulnerable when it came to the possibilities implied by muscle worshippers. The less of that from outsiders, the better. For now, anyway. Besides, there was real money to be made with the advent of worship. That would come later. Above all, Moster didn’t want to water down the future possibilities. Some day, when all this was over, there was a lot of money to be made. Moster was counting on it. Under his leadership, the goals of his 18 musclemen were never ending, their focus never dulled by the daily routine of their sequestered lives inside the Valhalla Compound. And for Moster, it was all about building muscle. Solid, rock-hard, healthy, powerful muscle. Muscle supported by bones and internal organ strength. Whereas Dr. Zaftig was compelled to his daily grind of endless lab research and observation of the men by his quest for eternal youth, Moster was not distracted by such vague, high-minded creationist illusions. All Moster cared about was that his men develop huge, serious, ripped, dominant, clean, overpowering muscle, muscle like the world had never seen before. Moster relished the fact that his extraordinary development was still a constant inspiration to his men. He generally preferred to remain completely covered, rarely choosing to display his magnificent physique. His custom-built oversized sweatsuits were carefully tailored to camouflage his physique while not hindering movement. They were heavily reinforced at the seams to avoid tears and bursting, and were neutral in construction and color. The sweat pants were gathered into tight stretch bands at Moster’s ankles. He generally wore combat boots and a white do-rag. But even the careful design of more than 25 yards of a blend of durable synthetics and heavy cotton couldn’t disguise Moster’s 60-inch wide shoulder girth, 7'-6" reach, 70-inch chest, 36-inch quadriceps and 25-inch calves. An observer might only be able to guess at the Sergeants’ biceps, triceps, and brachialis size. Moster chose to wear his sweatshirt loose, masking a slender, powerfully shaped 32-inch waistline. He never tucked it in, always making certain he was successfully covering his crotch. He had his reasons for this, which were well known by his men. Whenever Moster appeared in uniform, or civilian clothing, his appearance was all but terrifying – and, at the same time, insanely alluring. Rod Moster's boxing, wrestling, and extreme fighting skills were superior to all but Corporal Karim. Moreover, by now in this stage of team development, Moster found he had to work harder than his men in order to maintain the very slight edge he still held. Zaftig knew this, much to Moster’s subtle discomfort. He knew could be unseated by the right man at any time. Project Herculaneum was that far along. He remained proud of his team, knowing as he did that some day soon they might surpass him. When it became apparent to all that his long-held edge over the others was narrowing, a few of the men privately anticipated the day that he might finally be bested by one of the 18. The bets were on Karim Abdul, though Abdul had no particular vendetta against Moster; all the same, it would be a day of reckoning for the alpha CO, to atone for some of the more painful and humiliating extra-curricular disciplines he had long enforced. Hey, as long as that day doesn’t come too soon, he would joke in the mess hall. And all would laugh, even as they exchanged meaningful glances. Moster’s dedication to Project Herculaneum was total, even if it did lead him to occasionally lock horns with the dreamy, physically underdeveloped senior genius Dr. Zaftig. The 67-year old Zaftig was both crafty and kind-hearted. Though he held a basic unshakable respect for all, he was not above manipulating the men’s fragile psyches to get what he wanted out of them, and he made it a priority to know and understand all of them for their personal strengths and weaknesses. Over the years, it had been hard work finding and inducting these particularly gifted men into the program, and, once introduced, each man represented years of painstaking research, investment, time and testing. It was only right that he would pay close attention to what made each man tick. On the other hand, Moster preferred to accent his authority with an occasional dash of cruelty. He felt it was good for the team. After all, life was cruel, wasn’t it? And so together, Zaftig and Moster had forged a decade-long alliance of good cop/bad cop, each man sharing in his own personal way a common goal. Both cared only for the success of Project Herculaneum. At base, however, they held profoundly different motives. Zaftig hoped to find the perfect candidate for P21. As magnificent as the 19 men were, the final, perfect genetic recipient of the miraculous compound had yet to be discovered. Sergeant Moster, meanwhile, had other plans. All those worship sessions loomed ahead on a promising horizon of money, power, travel, and new opportunities. After all, Moster wasn’t a fool. Zaftig might be, but he certainly wasn’t. Chapter 2: P21 1987-2021 Ira Zaftig’s 2007 successful lab synthesis of Protein P21 promised nothing less than a physical revolution for all mankind. For more than 30 years, the eccentric, obsessed, and touched with genius, Harvard Med educated Dr. Ira Zaftig had parlayed a vast inherited private fortune and the proceeds of his own lucrative San Francisco medical practice into ongoing lab research and experiments. At first, he sought to develop nothing less than an injectable synthetic that would, of course, cure cancer. The usual dream of every young medical researcher, the youthful and wealthy Zaftig, heir to a lumber empire long sold to a larger conglomerate for a lifetime profit that elevated him into the 1%-ers, had the means to set up a private lab to do it. Over the years, that cure for cancer evolved into something else. As he aged, Zaftig grew more interested in creating a formula permanently extending youth, while enhancing physical strength and systemic health. The years passed with no result. Zaftig grew more obsessed, and eventually discarded his practice. He never married and avoided personal relationships, building an impressive private lab in the Santa Rosa Mountains outside San Jose. And he became a hermit whose life routine was only about continual research, testing, developing, synthesizing, note-taking, and video review. He amassed a team, whose job it was to test protocol after protocol on lab rats, guinea pigs, and rhesus monkeys. None of the animals, he was satisfied to note, were ever harmed by his injections, but none ever exhibited any permanent signs of renewed vigor, either. It was as if they were injected by harmless placebos. Over time, lab teams noted some temporary strength and health benefits in some, not all, of the lab animals. The effects were temporary, at best, and it was difficult to determine which animal might feel the effects, and which ones would not. Zaftig assumed sympathetic systems were required for any effects at all to take place. By 1998, Zaftig had engaged as his permanent first assistant the all but silent, studious, equally hermetic Dr. Warren Irving, whose natural reticence disguised fervor equal to Zaftig’s. By then, Zaftig’s ever-growing lab employed small army of coming-and-going lab workers, security personnel and personal administrators, whose silence and trust was purchased with time-stamped temporary employment terms, astonishing starting salaries and carefully drafted legal confidentiality contracts, were on hand in the continually refurbished lab facility, now enlarged into a complex of some size. Since Zaftig was seeking the creation of a God, he appropriately named his ever-growing facility Valhalla Labs. At first, in the specialized world of pure research outside the lab, ‘Zaftig’s Folly’, as came to be referred to, was an unending in-joke on the perils of vanity research. However, it was equally observed that any man or woman who had served in Zaftig’s lab emerged silent, circumspect, and deeply respectful about what went on within. Over the years, the jokes stopped, and by the late 1990s, ambitious young researchers hoped to spend a few seasons at the secluded lab, if for only to slake curiosity – and to make a lot of money. Still, the lab had produced nothing. No patents had been applied for. On it went, year after year. Then, after 30 years of steady non-production, in 2003 the 53-year old Zaftig had a breakthrough. A crop of lab male lab animals appeared dramatically invigorated by a trial run of newly developed formula. Careful notations of animal behavior indicated that the rejuvenation of the lab animals was deeply organic in nature. Most importantly, after protocols were ceased, the effects remained. And the animals grew surprisingly. They did not become monsters, but measured, in some cases, a quarter larger in size and weight than they were at the outset. They were somewhat more aggressive, too, but, as all were relieved to note, did not become, maddened, dangerous or even slightly mean. In fact, personal handlers reported that the animals appeared “cheerful” and “playful.” They also, when allowed, copulated with the other males, and sometimes the females, almost continuously. This was noted by Zaftig, who duly recorded it. Dr. Irving felt Zaftig somewhat ignored the sinister implications. After a year of continually successful lab animal results in select males, it was finally time for the first human trial. Zaftig, ever the Henry Jekyll tried P21on himself. The results were disastrous: violent vomiting, nosebleeds and headaches forced Zaftig into a week of bed rest. “Wrong genetics,” he had to admit to himself. He assumed the formula was a failure for humans, and lived in despair for weeks. Once recovered, he volunteered for trial his chief lab assistant, the meek, complicit, and nearly silent Dr. Irving. The injection nearly killed him. In sympathetic systems, it was as if evolution was sped up 10,000 years. P21 was capable of creating nothing less than jaw-dropping gigantism, coupled with glowing organic health, visually stunning physical perfection, astonishing strength, grace, speed, coordination, and renewed sexual energy. It only worked on X-Y heterogametic chromosome pairings – that is to say, on human males. Moreover, at this point in its development, it was successfully observed in very few subjects. Because of the necessary secrecy of the project, Zaftig lacked proper comparative controls, but by his estimation, he calculated P21 to be beneficial for only 1 out of every 1,000 men. However, for that one recipient, the sky was the limit. Zaftig finally saw the light on a subject for whom the formula might work when he met Rod Moster. That was in 2006. Moster was facing prison then, charged with manslaughter. Zaftig had heard all about the man’s prodigious muscularity, and got him the best defense money could buy. Moster served 1 year, and was released. Zaftig awaited him at the prison gates, ready to whisk him away to the Santa Rosa Mountains, to another kind of a prison, and yet one that Moster would soon relish. And so, in 2007, Rod Moster (soon to be Sergeant, USAC, hurriedly and secretly enlisted) became Project Herculaneum’s first official entrant. The already competition-trained superheavyweight bodybuilder Moster took to P21 like a duck to water – or, rather, like gasoline to fire. And Moster beat even Zaftig’s greatest expectations. Muscles bloomed on muscle. Strength quadrupled. Now that he had a perfectly responsive candidate, Zaftig was eager to find another. Later in 2007, another superheavyweight bodybuilder, the near-silent Turkish giant Abdul Karim, was discovered at Raw Weight, the hardcore San Jose gym owned by 50-year old retired pro bodybuilder legend Miles Donovan. Immediately whisked into the program, Moster and Karim trained like madmen in the Valhalla Labs compound, where a new gym was put into construction just for the two of them. They didn’t much like one another, but that led to heightened competition, tension, anger, and, inevitably, greater muscle growth. And now Zaftig could make some truly accurate notes on the success of P21 in sympathetic systems. Zaftig observed in his lab notes that it was as if the full assimilation of P21 triggered alterations in deep genetic timestamp coding. It was exactly as if the body suddenly redefined its male development to date as late ‘childhood’, and began to take itself into something like a new ‘adolescence’, blooming into a new definition of ‘adulthood’. Consequently, accompanied by proper training and consistent regulation of nutrition and rest cycles, muscular growth was not just enhanced; it was prompted into a supersonic explosion unlike anything Zaftig had anticipated. As intended in trial development, P21 was, in effect, nothing less than a miracle formula, successful beyond Zaftig’s wildest imaginings. He was still tinkering with it in the lab, however, in hopes that somehow he might find the key to more universal acceptance, including female development. The injected enzyme boosted performance, it seemed, only in those recipients whose natural dopamine and endorphin levels had already reached a certain high capacity, following either years of regular workouts, or a monitored high-intensity training in very young, genetically predisposed teens. Moreover, once on the enzyme and going forward, steroids, regular insulin injections, pain blockers, and growth hormone proved not only unnecessary, but also potentially dangerous. A protocol of P21 worked best on a naïve system, or, at the very least, a metabolism cleaned over time from the longtime effects of other injectables. Mental acuity was not diminished, but then again, it wasn’t improved, either. At first, Zaftig had been disappointed P21 didn’t produce intellectual giants as well, but in time he accepted it. After all, as long as subjects weren’t rendered newly stupid by the protocol, and followed orders, he accepted that it wasn’t really an issue. It was about muscles and strength, not smarts. More subjects were introduced into the program. By 2011, the men in the program included competitive bodybuilders Rene Lefevre, Herman Schumacher, Anthony Chad, Derek Washington, and William Obatu. Muscle monsters all at the outset, and mostly discovered by Miles Donovan, as each man moved into the compound and began the training and the protocols, their size and strength increased with rapid gains measureable almost daily. Most astonishingly, perhaps, was the measurable growth in each man’s height. Over time, all recipients grew anywhere from 2 to 5 inches taller. The skeletal structure itself was affected by regular injections of P21, and bones lengthened and thickened throughout each man’s body. The principal area of bone growth appeared to be in the legs, but even the arm bones slightly lengthened. A 6’-0” man with a finger-to-finger reach of 6’-3” before injections was gradually able to reach a length of 5 inches in addition to his newly gained height. The lengthened arms, of course, gave the men a slightly ape-like appearance, with the tips of their fingers now brushing the patella of each kneecap. However, the men did not become ungainly as a result, seemed to grow at the same time in natural grace and motor coordination. Muscular density almost doubled, strength nearly quadrupled, subcutaneous fat tissue was nearly eliminated. Muscular separations, ripples, cuts, and deep tissue striations appeared where before, even on a beautifully developed physique, there had been nothing but smoothness. Muscles roiled and bloomed with magnificent grace. Even symmetry improved; it was as if the muscular system had developed an over-all critical eye as to the proper balance and sweep necessary for each man to remain at optimum performance levels. Even so, with the loss of subcutaneous fat, waist size was stunningly diminished. Within six months of starting injections, a formerly 200 pound muscular man with a standard 34” waistline would find himself sporting a mere 30” at his midsection, with his rectus abdominus muscles and lower obliques newly reknit into interlocking, striated layers of shapely support musculature, easily able to carry the newly burgeoning upper body mass. His bodyweight would shoot up at least 20 pounds, all of it lean muscle mass. Fast-twitch and slow-twitch muscles were affected alike: a man on P21 was not only able to lift almost impossibly heavy weights, but run like the wind. Motor-nerve coordination profoundly improved. Endurance was beyond imagining. Although the subjects’ diets were kept clean, this appeared to have little effect one way or the other. As long as the men were regularly fed full meals six times a day, and drank a quotidian 3 gallons of water, then diet itself was moot. However, to maintain the psychological fiction that diet was still “important”, food selections were limited to lean meats, arrays of vegetables and proper complex carbs. The men held the “no veggies” diets of standard, “middle earth” bodybuilders in profound contempt. “If it’s green, it’s good,” was the mantra. With the six meals a day and the explosion of muscle growth, human waste products predictably doubled. The men seemed to require 30 minutes daily for proper excretion. Each man found himself pissing rivers of bright, clean urine. Happily, their digestion systems were as efficient as could be hoped for, and pleasure-filled howls filled the residence halls periodically as the men eagerly shat their meals. “A good shit is like great sex,” Obatu observed. Pissing was as pleasurable, for as powerful as their kidneys were, each man produced ropes of healthy white piss, like clockwork, 5 times a day. Their glowing prostate health allowed them to empty their bladders thoroughly with each resoundingly copious piss. A man on P21 would also exhibit astonishing skin health. Blemishes and scars faded to nothingness. The men’s complexions glowed as if powered by an inner laser. Hair health flourished, and though some of the men on the protocol preferred to shave their heads, it was not for a lack of healthy follicles. Even the bald Sergeant Schumacher, hairless as a wombat when he entered the program, was delighted to see his full head of hair restored within six months. Later, however, in response to other psychological effects, he chose to shave it off daily. Normal pain thresholds decreased proportionately. Sleep cycles were not affected. Over time, any already-accomplished athlete’s natural talents were likely to be exponentially sharpened. Newly recorded performance benchmarks surpassed any previous personal best. In short, the benefits were astounding - provided the recipient was initially genetically gifted to begin with, and had already achieved a certain performance level. Once P21 had been introduced into the system, after 3 years of weekly injections, Zaftig had discovered the protocol must be carefully monitored, and in some cases, stopped for periods of time. Not everyone developed at the same rate. Once the protocol was stopped, the successful manifesting effects enjoyed by the recipient to date would not be lost, but any continuing development would slow and finally stall. However, to avoid trauma, the project’s subjects weren’t informed of this, and several of the older men had been receiving intermittent placebos for years, in order to avoid a state of psychological withdrawal. More seriously, and although Zaftig was not yet certain of the veracity of his latest finding, he was keen to observe with a continued injection schedule, that the men’s aging processes seemed to stop entirely. This is the most sensitive of all the information he gathered, and the top-secret introduction of placebos disguised the anti-aging effects for the older men in the project. It was critical that this be kept a closely guarded secret. Was part of P21’s astonishing potential the end of natural aging? Zaftig was at war with himself on this point. As a scientist, he was elated. As a sympathetic human being, he was appalled. No one but he and the deeply trusted Dr. Irving were aware of indications that P21 was The Fountain of Youth. And just as P21 seemed to promise unending anti-aging, not all of the other developmental effects could be anticipated. Nor were they, in fact, terribly convenient. Its extraordinary properties included some rather startling, not to say unexpected, priapic side effects, which had first manifested themselves in the first guinea pig lab rat Sergeant Moster, nearly 15 years before. Since then, as new men successfully entered the project, different results were recorded for different recipients. All the same, universally P21 provided something like miraculous growth and enhancement for all who responded to it. Even now, in 2021, Zaftig could only guess how it might manifest itself in different subjects. Zaftig didn’t really want to deal with the complexity of the multiple sexual side effects. For there were surprising sexual benefits as well. After all, a physically evolving male always experiences a coinciding change in sexual stats and activity. What he had not anticipated was the dramatic extent of these changes. Zaftig discovered it not long after he first tried it out on Moster in 2007. The most observable immediate change was the startling increase in genital size. At the outset of his induction into the program, Rod Moster’s penis was already unusually large, looming forth when erect at a majestic 8 inches. While impressive on most men, all the same for a muscleman of Moster’s size and development, in appearance, it came off as merely average. All that changed once Moster entered the program. Six months after beginning the P21 protocol, even when flaccid, Moster’s penis measured just over 10 inches. When erect, it approached 16 inches. Midnight black, cobra-thick, and lightly laced with a cross section of interlocking capillaries shooting off from two pulsing central shaft veins, it had become a dangerous, dazzlingly beautiful machine. In fact, Moster’s penis had become a weapon. While he was delighted with his newly gargantuan cock, it presented him no end of trouble. For one thing, there was simply no hiding it in his clothing. His dress slacks uniform trousers had been custom-fitted to accommodate his massive quads, glutes, hamstrings and calves. Now, unless he wore specially designed rubber mesh briefs under his slacks that firmly restrained him, his slack member lay lazily on his quads, with muffled slapping against his thighs as he walked. The flies of all his clothing had to be forged from blue steel, and even so, were doubly reinforced to prevent bursting from the strain. Standard bodybuilding posing trunks were all but impossible if he wanted to remain covered; his cock and balls simply didn’t fit in any pouch. Most of the time, Moster chose to wear ultra-baggy sweats, with the sweatshirt hanging down to his thighs to cover the always-looming member. Otherwise, it was all just too distracting. Over time, Dr. Zaftig discovered that for all enrollees into the program, the size of the subject’s genitalia similarly grew to outlandishly large proportions. A man with average endowment was soon delighted to note that his organ, when flaccid, enlarged half again in length, girth, and stamina. A man considered ‘well hung’ at the outset would enjoy even greater growth. But that wasn’t all. Moster quickly realized a greater sexual appetite to match his newly achieved girth. Soon after injections began, normal societal behavioral blockers that prevent many men from acting on their fantasies all but vanished. Deeply buried sexual fantasies began to seem not merely attainable, but regularly actionable. Over time, the sexual activity of the subject became an all-pervasive cycle of, at first, increasing need, accompanied by a single-minded determination to fulfill the fantasy. Moreover, it was apparent that the recipients of P21 responded with particularly heightened sexual energy and passion to other recipients of the enzyme. So-called heterosexuality was no longer an issue: choice was abandoned. The men needed close supervision to keep their sexual activity confined to the proper hours, settings, and duration. And it took some doing to keep the men in line. Of course, any partner was possible for the men. As long as their muscles were the source of longing, they were eager to spread their copious seed in any number of ways, among any number of partners. Fortunately, a psychological fail-safe was built into the men’s newly ripening sexual psyches. The men were at their most vulnerable when presenting their muscularity to outsiders. Always able to leap into swift action, whether fighting, flexing, posing, Zaftig discovered after some carefully administered lab control tests that if the men were confronted with levels of apparent sexual unresponsiveness from observers, their sexual impulses were notably dampened. While their overall athletic, training, and bodybuilding prowess was never diminished, the translation of muscle energy into unfettered sexual energy did not occur unless observers explicitly expressed longing. In other words, the men needed to be sexually worshipped, gawked at, touched, stroked, admired and longed for in order to become aroused. They needed to flex their powerful biceps and rotate their mountainous quads for the stunned and appreciative. It was slightly ironic, therefore, that these astonishing physical specimens of undeniable Alpha males were, actually, subservient to the atmosphere of admiration. Indifference seemed to cow the men into silence and confusion – all except Sergeant Moster, of course, whose internal sexual battery was always on full charge levels. Fortunately, for the orderly continuation of Project Herculaneum, Sergeant Moster was aware of what he called “the Kryptonite effect” on his men. He could douse their sexual energy easily with a disparaging glance or an offhand comment. The small army of resident support staff, facilities associates, cafeteria and maintenance personnel, and office and lab workers were duly advised not to show any sexual interest in the men on any level. Zaftig himself was never troubled by the issue. Proud of his men, he nevertheless seemed to regard them as his “boys”, growing adolescent sons, in whom he had nothing but the purest parental love, devoid of any sexuality. Moster was more than well qualified to handle that job. Zaftig took a step back, promising himself that “some day” he’d approve a comprehensive study on P21 and sex. Over time, the psychological benefits had proved addictive. In other words, P21 was crack cocaine for bodybuilders. Any man receiving regular injections of P21 had to be handled with extreme care and caution, which necessitated a largely cloistered lifestyle. They were simply not ready for general public release. Nor was the public ready for them. To be continued.....

Tales of a Lust Mage #4 'Halloween, Fiends, and Super Heroes' SUB TAGS; Superhero, Magic, Solo, Forced Growth (some), Hyper (some), Height, Angel, Demon, Characters (Hector, Jenna, Amber, Usiu, Bucardo, Dagger Jaw ), Halloween, Costume Author Note: Thanks for tuning in again, guys. I originally wanted to go with a different direction for my 'Halloween' story, but as you can see, that didn't work out as perfectly as anticipated. I also wanted to shout out to a friend of mine, they know who they are, because I've been wanting to do a superhero story for a while. I bet they didn't think it'd happen! You know the drill, comment your thoughts, even if you didn't like it! Part I – The Costume Shop I’m not exactly sure how to retell this. It was all really strange and happened the spookiest night of the year, Halloween. I thought I was going to just have the usual, boring Halloween I always do. You know, the one where you go to bars and no guys check you out because you wore a banana costume (what was I thinking that year…?) or your friends all ditch you because you don’t like to get ball-to-the-wall drunk. My high school sweetheart, Jenna (joking, I’m gay: we figured it out a few weeks in the relationship), forced me to go to a really exclusive party this year. She handed me the ticket- the only ‘entry’ to this ritzy money bags party. “Wait, don’t they get like, models, and even strippers and stuff for those kinds of parties?” I asked, twiddling my thumbs around the fancy embossed ticket. Jenna was on the phone. “Relax, look, don’t get a normal costume. If you want to fit in or look decent, go to the address I messaged you. It’s an amazing costume shop, a lot of custom made stuff. I already left a tab with them, I told the owner that you’d show them my text message and could get whatever you thought looked good.” Jenna said, on the phone. I grunted, “What?! You can’t keep paying for my junk, you know! Especially frivolous stuff like this.” “Oh stop it, when you get back on your feet you can pay me back.” Jenna giggled. We’d both gone to the same college, too. Now she was a full-fledged lawyer and I was an accountant without work. She offered to get me set up at the firm she worked, but she’d just been hired herself. Her last position let her go with a great severance package a few months ago, so I guess she didn’t mind changing jobs. I walked through the streets, seeing lots of old stores and buildings, all like in a tourist picture for 'old towns'. They didn’t belong in the city. My feet splashed into a puddle, scuffing my shoes. I frowned, knowing I’d become lost. I sat down on a bench and looked at my phone, wondering why I had lost signal. Then my eyes looked upward. I swear I would’ve noticed the tailor/costume shop, I’d passed right by it. Somehow, there it was, two stories high and older than dirt. I walked inside and was greeted by an older woman. I think she was an older woman, she wore lots of older women’s clothes. Her hair was very unkempt; maybe it was the style, big and puffy. She had long nails and waved at me from the counter. I smiled and saw the tons of costumes and normal clothing, all either vintage or extremely well-made, if not both. “How can I help you, young man?” She asked. Her small name tag said ‘Bhain’. I didn’t know how to pronounce that. She had an Irish accent, I think. “Well, I don’t really know. I’m here to get a costume for a party. My friend, Jenna, she,” “Oh yes! Jenna! Oh I love her. Such a nice young lady. You must be her friend, ah, what was your name?” “Hector. Hector Roberts.” “Oh yes, Hector! Well, what are you looking to be this haunted night?” She asked. She spoke with her hands a lot. Before I could answer, customers began swarming her. Each had questions or needed to buy something. I smiled and gave her the okay sign so she knew I’d be patient. I walked around and saw that most of the costumes weren’t silly, but regal. Some were scantly, so I didn’t even dare look at those. “Excuse me, would you like some assistance?” Someone asked from behind me. I turned to see a much shorter young woman looking up at me. She seemed extremely young, but looked related to Bhain. “Oh, well, I’m just looking. I don’t think any of these costumes would fit me correctly, or flatter.” I said. “Well, my mom sent me to help you, she said you were a friend of Jenna’s. Jenna told me to help you however I could last week when she bought a costume. I hope I don’t bother you…” the young girl said, nervously. I smiled, feeling a fellow spaz talking to me. “Well, okay. You can help. Did she have in mind what I should look at? You know, like a costume she might think I look good in? What’s your name, by the way?” I asked. “Amber. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She said, stiffly putting her hand out to shake. We looked for costumes, maybe for an hour. All of them didn’t seem to fit me right. Amber told me her mom could stitch them up appropriately for my size, but I just didn’t find them likeable. I started feeling frustrated at the sight of no costume looking good. I finally told Amber that she’d been very helpful, but I just didn’t think anything was made for me. “Oh…” Amber said, somewhat sad. I was tempted to ask about her age. She seemed really built like a woman, just short and soft-faced. Her overtly-kind demeanor confused me. “Well, I think I need to go get my mom, maybe she could help you better. I promise we can find you a good costume!” She said, walking off. I didn’t argue, she was too fast. I sighed as my hands moved around the racks when I finally noticed the perfect costume. It looked somewhat like a uniform- with a beautiful trench coat, white and blue. I didn’t think it was a costume until I examined its details; buckles, belts, and lots of layers of different fabrics. It looked to be my size, if not a bit form fitting. The costume had feather lining in certain places, which I thought was strange. I saw that it carried a very regal mask- white and carved out of what may have been faux ivory. My curiosity got the best of me as I grabbed the mask and felt its beautiful craftsmanship in my fingers. I finally gave up and put the mask on. Immediately running to the mirror, I saw how cool I looked. The mask covered most of my face, but it had a strong jawline, unlike mine. I still didn’t know what the costume was of and yet I was excited to try it on. “Mr. Hector, everyone’s gone, so we can both help you pick out a cost-” Amber said before stopping right in her tracks. Her mother stood behind her, juice bottle in hand. She didn’t look as concerned. “Too late now, he tried it on, dear.” Bhain said. “Hmm? What’s wrong with it?” I asked. I felt confident in the mask, hidden and somehow accentuated by its design. “Nothing, dear. Would you like to try on the costume? I know it’s not a conventional super hero costume, but we can add a cape and insignia.” Bhain added. “Definitely! I want to try it on!” I managed to say, excitedly. I tried it on and beamed. I looked like a model in a fashion magazine. The outfit looked like a high-class trendy outfit, covered in sharp shapes. Amber placed the trench coat on top. She showed me all the zippers that altered the outfit to shorts if so wished- or small jacket. I couldn’t help but pose. Amber smiled and told me it looked wonderful on me. “How much is it?” I suddenly said, knowing the outfit was probably too expensive to rent or buy, being in its own display. “Take it as a gift.” Bhain said. I suppose my normal ego brought me back to reality when I said, “Oh I couldn’t do that. It’s beautiful, and I don’t even know how to use it on a normal basis. Wouldn’t it get dirty? I’m afraid to even wear it out.” Bhain opened her juice bottle and poured the contents onto the outfit. I almost screamed, but saw that the juice literally dripped off of it. I was surprised! “No, it’s been altered to be defiant of most liquids and other matter. Now take it, before I call Jenna and tell her you’re being stubborn.” Bhain teased. She directed Amber to get me a box and directions on how to keep the suit pristine for the party. I tried to argue about paying for it, or at least paying for some of it with my own money. It didn’t work out. As Bhain looked through some cases she talked about the costume with her daughter. I guess it was small talk, but I tried not to eavesdrop. “Did she leave it here? Did you put it out?” Bhain asked. She always seemed calm, if not happy. He hands pulled out a white cape. It was gorgeous, but I felt the need to wear the outfit alone. It was so cool… “No, Mom. I didn’t even know it was out on the floor. I swear.” Amber said, making the insignia. She later told me it would just stick onto the fabric and could be pulled off for actual wear. Bhain handed me the box and smiled at me once more before I left. She simply whispered to me, “Well, maybe it’s just your destiny to look this good, Hector.” Part II: I Am the One Hiding Under Your Bed I walked into the halls of the great mansion, letting my trench coat sway in the cold wind of Halloween night. I kept my head up high as I passed a few guests. I didn’t know if they were looking at me, but I was hoping they were (for some reason). Jenna stood in a long, gossamer dress. She smoke to a few gentlemen as she played with her martini glass. She bid most of them goodbye as she looked over at me. She gasped and laughed, picking up her dress to come in my direction. “My! A super hero, or are you an anti-hero? What are you, the white vigilante?” She surmised. “Well, Amber gave me a symbol to wear on my belt and chest, but I don’t see any letters, so I think I’m the Super Bird…” I said. I'm not very good at names. “You look great! Does it come with padding? Your shoulders look so wide. You look taller in it too.” Jenna giggled. I laughed, somewhat blushing. I wasn’t attracted to Jenna, but she was definitely someone I wanted approval of. “Oh, I wanted you to meet an old colleague. His name is Bucardo. Bucardo, this is Hector.” Jenna said, introducing us. Bucardo seemed like an extremely serious man. He had a costume of some sort of scaled creature and wore two masks on his shoulders, like shoulder plates. One was a wolf and the other, a bird. “Pleasure.” He said, shaking my hand and smiling. His costume was strange, but seemed so well-made. “Oh gosh, I really don’t want to talk to Gary. He’s such a flake.” Jenna whispered. “You know me, I’m here for the wine.” Bucardo said. “Who’s Gary?” I asked. “Why, the owner of the mansion and host of the party, Gary Codington. I’ve done some accounting for him, among other business. Now he sits with another crowd, however.” Bucardo said, checking his wrist watch. “Oh, you’re an accountant?” I asked, being friendly. My trench coat started feeling heavy. I hadn’t even had a drink yet. “Yes, I forgot to really tell you who Bucardo is. He was in finances back for the last firm I worked for. He managed some of the investments the company did on the side. You remember?” Jenna asked. She hiccupped. “Yeah, I remember, Rourke Law & Consulting. How goes it for them, by the way?” “Well, they’re having a slow start in their new location. It was privately owned by a single person, but Bune over here still works with him through an assistant.” Jenna laughed. She was tipsy. She mispronounced Bucardo’s name and almost lisped all her other words. “I must really be going. I honestly did come for the drinks. I’d suggest you two get home before things get… ugly.” Bucardo said, staring up at the balcony where the lights were turned off. People stood up there, in the shadows. Suddenly, a gray-haired man walked up to us. I didn’t even notice him as he startled Jenna. He touched her shoulders, putting his head close to her he neck. “Why, Jenna Yang, you look marvelous tonight.” He said, rubbing her shoulders. She looked awfully uncomfortable. I would have said something, but he seemed bigger than me… I know. I suck. “Hello, Gary. How have you been?” Jenna said, flattening her tone. She looked like she was ready to puke, but not from the martinis. “What are you this year, Gary? A zombie curtain?” Bucardo said, playing with his wine glass. “Funny, Buck. So funny.” Gary said, stepping back and standing up straight. “I am a vampire, can’t you see from my Victorian outfit?” “You got the undead part right, Gary. I love how sunken-in your eyes look.” Bucardo said. The tension was rising. “Jenna, would you have a dance with me?” Gary asked, ignoring Bucardo. “Oh, I can’t, I’m already drunk, and I might vomit on you. Besides, my date tonight is Hector. Hector, this is Gary.” Jenna responded. I could see the glint in her eye that yelled an S.O.S. at me. I almost laughed. “I see. What is your costume tonight, I can’t tell it matches his?” Gary seemed to joke. I wasn’t sure. “I’m a damsel in distress, Gary. Hector’s my super hero!” Jenna giggled. “Oh, I see. Well, pleasure to meet you, Hector. I’ll see you all around, please enjoy the festivities. And try the food; it’s to die for.” Gary said, leaving before I could respond to his introduction. “See, you are a super hero, Hector. You save me from total creeper-doom.” Jenna whispered. We joked and laughed for a few minutes after Bucardo left. I felt sick to my stomach and didn’t drink. Jenna stopped drinking after a few cocktails, three. I told her I’d be right back and headed to the bathroom. I got lost, of course. I found myself in the library. I had no trouble seeing, although it was extremely dark in the corridors of the mansion. I noticed that there was dust settling on mostly everything- as if the home got little service or use. My landed face to the ground when I heard someone speaking in amongst the shelves. “We should just get it over with now, stupid.” “No, there are few who have to stay alive, or Gary will be pissed.” “I don’t give a shit about what Gary says. He’s about dead, anyway. I can sense the staff missing from his study. I’m starving, man. I need to feed.” “Silence, all of you.” a deep voice growled. I hid myself as I slid upward, trying to glance at the voices’ source. There stood three normal sized men, wearing masks. I was astounded by how realistic the masks were. Their eyes looked like hollow orbs of unsettling glow, and their mouths looked torn open, always smiling wide with giant fangs. Even when they spoke, their monster mouths opened and moved naturally. Amongst them stood a larger man, almost too tall to be human. These rich blokes went all out- The tallest one had vibrant red eyes, and his fangs looked like daggers, jutting out everywhere. “There’s someone here.” The large one boomed. I swallowed my breath and stood, back stuck to the shelf. I held my mouth, hoping to silence any fear-made sounds. “Sounds like we have someone in here, we better kill them now.” “Oh yeah! Fuck yeah! Let’s eat!” one answered as they all ran in different directions. The largest one stepped around, grinding his teeth with the noise that only steel makes against itself. “They’re not costumes, young man.” Said a voice, booming like the monster, yet vibrant. Who was that? I thought to myself. I tried to find the exit quietly. “Me, the guise you wear. I’m not simple fabric, boy.” the voice responded. “What?!” I rasped loudly. The monster grunted, laughing a bit as he knew where I was now. “I said, ‘I’m not simple fabric’, BOY!” the voice yelled. My head throbbed. “Oh, a celestial. My favorite flavor.” The monster said, standing behind me. “Oh fuck.” I managed to squeak out, looking back at the monster. I heard the creature smack its mouth, preparing to eat me, possibly whole. I closed my eyes the moment he lifted his giant arm above his head, ready to smash me to an easy digestible mush. I heard a massive crunch. I whimpered, as the little wimp that I am. But I felt little pain. I opened my eyes and saw my forearms pressed up against the creature’s fist. My mouth went agape as I was holding his force up with my puny arms. “Defend us, boy!” the vibrant voice yelled, angrily. “Mmmmmnope, I think I’m going to run!” I said out loud, running off into the corridor. I fell to my face again, but quickly jumped up and went on my way. The adrenaline really helped, I guess. The monster growled and began pacing after me. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m so dead!” I yelped, looking for a place to hide. I heard the music of the actual party coming from the west, the direction I was running in. Once again, a surge of weight pulled me down. I couldn’t breathe well and ran into what seemed to be a bathroom. Fool as I am, I locked the door in hopes to deter the monsters. I ran to the sink and slipped, hitting my head on the hard marble sink’s side. I fell to the ground. It’s almost funny, I thought I was going to die from the head wound and not the monster’s mouths. “Stupid boy. I can’t believe you’re the only celestial blood around.” The voice said. I passed out as I looked at my hands. Something was different with them. They looked veiny, pulsing even. I felt my consciousness leave me as I felt them cramp up. Part III: A Hero, Born I awoke, dizzy. I coughed and dragged myself to the toilet. I felt a lack of balance as I did so, even on the ground. “What the heck happened...?” I asked myself, out loud. “Do people no longer know about the beasts that roam the night, afoul bastards whom create turmoil to the poor souls of Earth?” the voice boomed, annoyed. “Okay, I’m going to need you to show yourself, if you’re going to keep talking to me.” I said, noticing my sleeves were gone. My arms looked weird in the darkness. “I am Iusiu, boy. I am an angel, as you might call it. I have no form but the garb on your skin.” He said. “Oh great, so the monsters back there were probably a hallucination, just like you, then. All’s well, I just need psychiatric help.” I said, looking for a light. I was able to walk, following the wall as my crutch. Walking was different, too. The dizziness made it worse, as I felt like my stance was widened. “Fool, I am no mental illusion. Look in the mirror, the light is right there.” Usiu said. I flipped the light on. The mirror stood across the room. I saw a figure, muscular and wide. He wasn’t massive, or super-built, but definitely defined. I almost jumped for the door, assuming it was someone else. Then I saw its movements follow mine. I slowly walked to the mirror and finally understood. I was about five feet tall at the beginning. I couldn’t believe it, I’d hit at least a foot in growth. I passed my hand through my hair and noticed my chiseled lats and abs. My hair had grown a bit out of control, down to my neck. I’d just gotten preppy crew cut a few days ago. Not much of my face changed, but it looked thicker, manlier. My neck fitted it well, curving into rock-hard shoulders. I noticed my costume wasn’t the same. “I changed my form so those beasts do not recognize us. Sadly, they can change their form too. It is a shame they already ate a poor mortal a few hours ago. The fool who unleashed them will lose control of them soon and they will feed on everyone if we do not hurry.” Usiu said. I looked at my clothes and coughed. My mask lay on my neck. It was more of a helm now. My trench coat had been changed to great shoulder pads, like silver (I still don’t understand very well how I knew what pieces turned into what). My shirt had become a simple harness, hiding inside the buckles and straps. They had grown two intricately made faux wings, like an angel’s. The pants had changed to a skimpy pair of shorts, perfectly accentuating my apparently grown junk. I was so confused and looked at the bulge that stuck round and out from my shorts. They looked more like briefs, tight to my skin. I lost my shoes, only wearing blue boots. “H-holy… What happened to me?!” I yelled. “I had to make some changes, but it has cost me a lot of energy. I didn’t have much to begin with, and there’s no sun to obtain energy from right now, so we must make haste.” Usiu said. “No, no! We are not making any hastes! You need to make another costume, or some shit, because this is too revealing!” I yelped. “I will not. I only looked through your communicative technology to see what people wear on haunted nights.” He said. “What?! You mean my phone? No wait, I had some pretty bad pictures on there! God damn it, you only checked the first picture, for that gay underwear Halloween catalogue! Change into something else!” “No. I will not. We need the energy to fight that Codington man and his attached fiends.” Usiu said, flatly. I wanted to cry. “Excuse me, are you in there, Hector? I thought I heard you. Are you okay? You’ve been gone for forty-five minutes, I’m really worried.” Jenna said, knocking on the door. By impulse I ran to the door and slowly opened it. I managed to squeak out a nervous, “Yeah, I’m totally fine, Jenny.” “You didn’t drink at all, you sure you’re okay?” She said. I opened the door slowly. She gasped and stared at me. I felt my face turn bright red, extremely exposed and semi-naked. “Wow, Hector! I can’t- holy shit, you’ve been working out!” She laughed, “And you’re not afraid to show it, I see! Did you get both outfits free?! I don’t actually mind, they both fit you very well… You belong in a Victor’s Secret catalogue!” How funny. I wanted to hide behind my mask. I clumsily fumbled around as I put on the mask, trying to fix my hair. “You even got another insignia, on your chest? Wow, it looks like a real tattoo, even.” She said, poking my pectorals. They were so defined now. I kept forgetting to breathe. I looked down and saw it. I felt my mind unlocking knowledge from somewhere, I have no idea where. It was Usiu’s name, in a symbol. “W-well, I like to go… All out, you know me!” I chirped, like a robot. We heard a scream. I instinctively grabbed Jenna and pushed her into the bathroom. I said, “Stay in there, something bad is going down. If I don’t come back in five minutes, get out.” Before running off. I felt somehow brave, ready to take on anything. I ran to the ballroom to see a man gnawing into another. People were running away, screaming. The man chewing on flesh quickly dropped his disguise, showing off his ugly true form. There was blood. I hated blood so much. I wanted to run away like the little bitch I am, but I couldn’t. Usiu forced courage into my chest. “Stop at once, demons! You are all under my power!” Gary yelled. I assumed it was him. “Shut up, Gary.” One of the demons said, biting into his neck. After chewing on his meat, he spit it out and kicked Gary around, letting him bleed to death. “Your meat is gross.” The giant demon-monster crashed into the ground, breaking the tiles underneath him. He laughed, already finishing a poor rich-guy’s corpse in his mouth. I wanted to puke. “Let me enter.” Usiu said. “What?” “Let me enter your soul. Don’t be afraid, I will protect you if you protect me. If we don’t do something, more people will die.” Usiu responded. I shivered and closed my eyes. “Fine. Let’s do whatever it is you want me to do. Enter my soul, or whatever.” Immediately I felt a surge of electricity run through me. I twisted as the energy ran through me. I forced my hands into the wall, cracking it as my arms began to grow. I felt my stance widen once more, pushing my legs with more musculature. My clothes did not tear, simply unaccommodating my size. I saw my biceps swell like bowling balls as my chest jutted outward. I blushed as the growth pushed my cock upward, almost ready to burst out of my tiny shorts. They somehow stretched as my ass pushed up, perfectly round. I didn’t know how to deal with all the sensations, but I had no time to react anyway. “Who are you?” The giant demon said, finishing his meal. He was massive too. I heaved my giant chest up and down, trying to breathe. Crap, what should I call myself? I can’t use my name or Usiu’s, I thought to myself. I noticed some dumbass trying to film the spectacle on his phone for the internet. The ‘Super Angel’ was a terrible name. Usiu whispered all the aliases he could think of. I picked one that I thought fit well. I somehow could think as one with Usiu. I knew he’d speak as one with him. “I am the Seraph, defender of the weak, destroyer of evil, paladin of retribution.” I said, much deeper than my actual voice. I sounded incredibly manly and eloquent. I still thought what I said was terribly stupid. God I wish I’d not said that. The idiot filming on his phone even spelled it wrong when he posted it, with an f. How do rich people stay so stupid? The demon laughed. He didn’t even move, he just stayed crouched at the top of the giant stairs. “I also know of you. You lost your name, and you wish to get it back. You were tricked worse than how you trick mortals, and now have the bodies you wanted. You can no longer do much in the other realms, and have even become a laughingstock to other fiends.” I said, somehow knowledgeable. He growled heavily. “I have a name, and you shall remember it well for it is the way I killed you. I am Dagger Jaw. I’m going to rend your pretty little head into a nice butter for my toast.” He quickly jumped at me, using the full force of his giant legs. I heard the resonating sound of the floor cracking as he jumped and attacked me. His mouth opened wide, literally splitting apart just to fit as much as he could inside. I reacted by stepping back and smashing his face into the ground. Before he could get up the four demons jumped at me. They were much smaller than me now, but very quick. One bit into my neck as I grasped two in well-made catches. My hands had become far bigger to accommodate my thick forearms. It wasn’t the strength alone that killed them, but the lightning I shot through them. Their hollow eyes lit up in a shocking blue, leaving burnt husks. I quickly threw the last demon across the ballroom before Dagger Jaw reached out and punched me in the gut. I wasn’t fast enough to squeeze my brick abdomen- but I was able to take the shock well enough to be thrown back. The first small demon to attack me gnawed on my neck as he tore at my back with his claws. I had hit the wall and smashed myself against it, letting the demon fall off like a burnt leech. “Okay, okay. I can use electricity, but can I fly or anything?!” I yelled at Usiu. I guess he responded by letting arcane symbols grow out of my back. I expected wings, but this was good enough. I flapped them and slowly lifted off. I’d never flown before, even in a plane, so it was very weird. Dagger Jaw grabbed a table and threw it at me. I tried dodging but decided to simply knock it out of the way. I lost some altitude. He squatted down to prepare a massive jump. I had no time to pay attention to the other two demons. Dagger Jaw quickly flew up at me and slashed at me with his great claws. I was lucky enough to drop my wings so I could fall out of the way. “I’m running out of energy, use your powers wisely, boy.” Usiu whispered inside me. The two smaller demons quickly spun around my feet with black rope. I really hope it didn’t come from somewhere weird, it felt slimy. I lost my balance and fell backward. Before they could get away I grabbed one and put him in front of me, sensing Dagger Jaw coming down at me. He didn’t care as his claws went right through his lackey, actually ripping into me. I screamed. I dropped my hands down, feeling the incredible pain inside my stomach. Dagger jaw salivated above me, dripping disgusting drool on my face. “You’re mine now, ‘paladin’.” He rasped. His giant mouth quickly snapped around my arm in one last hope of defense I put up. He coughed a laugh, knowing he’d won. “I wouldn’t laugh.” I said, grabbing his head with my other free, non-bloody hand. Dagger Jaw tried to move his mouth, but my arms grew in size, too big for even him to chew on. I remember watching the video and saw my eyes glow a bright blue, right before shocking the shit out of Dagger Jaw. Dagger Jaw pulled away but couldn’t move far, my massive right hand holding onto his forehead. I grabbed him in both arms and began squeezing. It felt so good to be this size. It felt amazing to feel this strong, crushing a giant monster’s head between my hands. “P-please… have mercy o-on…” Dagger Jaw muffled. I was about to say something clever, I think. “Sorry, I can’t hear you, the reception is tightening too quiet.” Wait. No. Okay, I’m not very good at the puns and catchphrases, yet. But I didn’t fuck up my moment because I heard the sound of sirens before I could say anything. I turned back to hear them and Dagger Jaw slashed at me once more. He didn’t keep attacking and ran off, heavy enough to leave shattered footprints in the ground. He even broke through the walls, rather than finding an exit. I held my wounds and noticed they started healing. It was slow, but Usiu put the mass back together. “That’s amazing…” I huffed, falling backward. “No time to rest, boy. I have something to tell you, which may be of importance. The soldiers are coming in. You need to escape. Also, although I can heal you, right now I don’t have the power to stop the growth.” Usiu said. I looked down and saw my arms pushing upward. I was growing again. “Wait, what?! You said you were out of power! You’re telling me you need power to STOP me from growing?!?” I yelled at him. I knew we were alone, I could feel it in the air. “No, boy. The problem lies in my lack of practice. I’ve been dormant for about a few centuries, now…” “Are you fucking kidding me?” “Do not foul your tongue in my presence.” “Are you serious?!?! Now is not the time!” I yelled, getting up slowly. I couldn’t even stand correctly, my legs were becoming too wide. “Run, escape to the woods. You’ll either explode in a bolt of lightning or…” I didn’t bother to ask more questions. I ran and broke my own escape through the mansion. My arms were like giant hammers at this point, smashing through walls like a gingerbread house. It still felt bad on my skin, but I was more worried about exploding. I didn’t want to explode. I finally found myself in the woods, far from the scene. I could see helicopters flying around, looking for suspects, etc. They somehow missed me. “Boy, there is one way you will not die from the explosion…” Usiu said. I fell backwards, no longer able to balance my body. I felt my groin swell massively, finally popping out my genitals out of the shorts. Usiu pulled back the clothing, letting the growth become slightly more comfortable (if that could have been possible). I moaned as I saw my giant cock swell. I could barely lift my arms. “You must release your energy.” Usiu whispered. I didn’t bother to fight and began rubbing the massive erection up and down. I can’t explain very well what it felt like. I could feel the pulse run through my blood, its own separate sensation of electricity pushing through every bit of flesh I have. Every time my heart pulsed, I could feel it force every bit of me stimulate. I moaned as my hands tried wrapping around my giant member. I couldn’t see much of anything, my pecs were trying to eat my face. I finally started feeling my climax and roared my heavy, manly voice. With a flash, I ejaculated. Thunder literally filled the sky, dropping down a bolt of blue lightning. I felt the energy shoot upward- the way science tends to explain lightning. I somehow reached the sky with my force. It was quick, so fast I couldn’t really examine all the sensations. It didn’t matter anyway, because I was ejaculating copious amounts of seed all over myself. With every gush, I shrunk. I roared and roared with every spurt of cum. It felt amazing, like a release that didn’t stop running through me. I crawled for a bit before standing up. I grabbed onto a tree and heard the rain come down, cloaking the night in even more darkness. Usiu pushed my now overtly-sore body in flight. I somehow found my apartment. “You can make rain too…?” I rasped, so tired speaking was difficult. “No, that must have been a stroke of luck, or someone decided to help us.” Usiu whispered as I landed on my bed. I felt paralyzed from the pain. “I suppose you are paladin material after all.” Usiu said, letting me finally sleep. I couldn’t stay awake long enough to tell him he was awful and I wanted him to go away. Somehow, I didn’t want him to. I wanted to be a hero, and maybe that’s why I found him hidden in a chain around my neck. I had a lot to learn, I figured out quickly. I didn’t ask him to leave that morning after, even with the strange ejaculation. Maybe I liked it all. I found my phone mostly unscathed as my memory jumped towards Jenna. I freaked and looked through, hoping for her safety. I was so afraid. She left me a message that said, “I don’t know what happened last night! I think I was so drunk, but thank goodness I got home before things got crazy. The taxi driver said you were with me? Gosh, I’m sorry for all of this. That was a terrible costume party. I really hope you’re okay.” I was relieved. Holding the phone up to my face was very tiring on its own. Usiu said I’d accustom to our powers soon enough, so I simply rested until I could at least get up. I didn’t bother to ask questions, my mouth costing too much energy to move. I simply held my hand on the insignia on my chest. I fell asleep. _______________________________________________________________________________________ “F-fuck… I’m… No… I…” Gary said, holding his wound. He just needed to heal his wound. The cops hadn’t found him, or the secret studies. He crawled around, looking for things to cover the bite with. He then stopped, trembling. Too afraid to turn, he fell to his knees. The light of the doorway outlined a demon’s shape. Gary had no power to subdue even him, and he knew his fate belonged to the demon’s claws. The demon fell to the ground, black blood gushing from its mouth. A large, glowing white hole went right through his gut, burning slowly before fizzling out. Someone stood behind the creature. “Gary. You’re a terrible excuse for a conjurer. I’ve met children who are better conjurers than you. You should have stayed with necromancy, you were at least half decent at that.” Said the woman in the beautiful red mask. She pulled up her dress so she wouldn’t step in the demon’s blood. “Y-you! This was you?! You took my staff! That’s why I lost control of them, you fucking bitch!” Gary spat out before blood gushed from his mouth. “It wasn’t just her,” Bucardo added, flipping on the lights. He pulled of the masks on his shoulders and let the snake-skin shed off. His skin had a perfect, fair tone. He snapped his fingers, letting a black suit fit around him, pinstriped. He fixed his tie and ram broach. Gary cursed at him while he fiddled with his diamond cufflinks. “Well, you see, Gary. You should have stayed small business. You’ve done a great job, honestly, doing terrible things here in New York. But the fact is, you rose up too fast. I’ve had bigger fish to fry, but I decided I needed to stop you before you became too much of a problem.” The woman said. “But- but you’re an angel-worker! You can’t do these things!” Gary said, coughing up more blood. “On the contrary,” Jenna said, pulling off the mask, “I’m an angel-worker by nature. I decided Bune here would be much more powerful in helping me ruin you. Did you notice how bad your stocks fell in the last two months? That was him. He can do that, you know. From time to time I have to use sub-lunar spirits.” She held his face as she slowly kneeled down to look at him. She kissed his forehead and trembled her lip. Jenna didn’t seem happy for a short second. “Do you want me to go find ‘Dagger Jaw’?” Bune asked. He stood straight. “No, our pact is complete. Thank you for your help, oh powerful spirit. I release you.” Jenna said, pulling out a knife of pure obsidian. “Jenna, please… I deserve a trial, by the council, remember? Those are the rules…” Gary rasped. “Dearest Gary, The council has no effect on my mental state, if physical. My methods may be unorthodox…” Jenna said, holding the knife at his neck, “but they exterminate more disgusting bastards like you than someone else’s.” The knife slit through, releasing a fountain of red, like her dress. End

TALES OF A LUST MAGE #3 by roboprobo SUB TAGS; Magic, Subtle Growth, Hyper (some), Height, Characters (Bradley, Xaekus, Hunter, Maker, Bahketh), Genies (Efreeti), Demons, Archers The following work of fiction portrays fictional characters in sexual situations. Please do not read if you interested in stories written for erotic purposes, if you are not of legal age, or if it illegal for you to read sexually explicit material in this format/medium. Author Note: I apologize sincerely for the length if it is a bother. I really wanted to set up the universe and then move onto more sexual themes. I still plan to keep expanding, growing, if you know what I mean, but for now I really wanted to get some muscle to grow in the actual text. Part I – Bronc, Imps, and Fire “All right, I officially end your punishment, Xaekus.” Bradley said, tearing a small strip of paper in two. Its arcane symbols seemed to burn the paper into ash. “YES!” Xaekus exclaimed, forming a human guise he accustomed to. He didn’t have enough energy to create a tall guise to match his beautiful master. Right now he couldn’t care less about how annoyed he was at Him, he just wanted to feel His skin’s energy. “No, no stop. Please, you’re going to choke me with your foulness.” Bradley muttered, looking through his files as Xaekus flew up and embraced his master’s arm. “What are you doing, master?” asked Xaekus, floating as his lower body fizzled into smoke. He hadn’t gathered enough energy to maintain full guise. Looking at his master’s full, striated pecs, He decided to size himself down to land right in the cleavage. Bradley looked down at the small, muscular, doll-sized man between his pectorals. He wished he had more than his white tank on. “Do you remember Barry Yates?” Bradley mumbled, walking into a storage room. “Barry Owen Yates?! They call him ‘Bronc’ nowadays! Yes, you helped him get as big as he is now, didn’t you?” Asked Xaekus, excited. He looked over and saw some file cabinets opened and fluffed into a mess. His urge to clean won over. The imp flew off to clean as Bradley responded. “I helped him before. He didn’t want to take steroids because he wanted to stay lean and clean. I can respect that. At the time I had just set up the business. He called me recently, said he’d saved up enough money to get himself massive with my help, to inhuman proportion. I’d told him I could give him a consultation, but no sex. I have to use magic to keep his cock from breaking me in two.” Bradley said. “Oh, I can transform him, sir! And I can do the other part too…” Xaekus trailed off as he finished cleaning the files. “No, I’d rather you didn’t. You still prove unruly and his general libido would easily let you possess him. I’m not stupid,” responded Bradley, finally finding the big bronze chest he’d tied up in blue chains. Xaekus managed to bite, “Sir, you never let me have any fun anymore!” before seeing the chest. He became silent. His glamour faded and turned him into a simple puff of blue smoke. “You don’t mean to use him, do you?” Xaekus muttered. “I do. I can control him easier because he’s been locked away from this world for centuries. I plan on syphoning a pact if the consultation with Bronc leads there. Now let’s see, what artifacts do I have that belong to him?” Xaekus peeked from behind his master and fiddled with his glasses as he tried to make some guise. He was nervous. Bradley unfolded a handkerchief and pulled out a small idol from the brass chest. The crude clay statuette was of a four armed figure with horns. Its red paint had chipped away long ago, leaving only a few marks that Bradley had tried keeping intact. Maybe he’d use a spell or two to fix the thing, but he didn’t want the subject to anchor any more into the normal world. “How old is that thing…?” Xaekus managed to ask before looking over to the beginning of the storage room’s dark side. Xaekus himself was no hero, but he certainly didn’t do the things a lot of the artifacts Bradley had there did. The familiar grumbled and decided maybe he’d go to his bottle or clean the house. Bradley’s left hand drew an arcane symbol that acted as a small flashlight. The darkness seemed to try eating the simple light as Bradley’s eyes examined the ancient idol. “Hmm. How old indeed.” Part II – Four Branches Lit Aflame The winter was terrible, at least by what Papa had said. Pa was a great man. He took me in when my mother had died. He said we were once a great tribe. The war with the Yellow clan had ruined us, even if we had won. Both clans had died out when the winter came after. We’d traveled a long time afterward going South- the lands where people did not move through the land. Fairly close to our territories in the south people had come and built a small village down in the valley. We didn’t travel anymore but chose to live farther up in the mountainous region, away from the village. Papa had taught me to do many things. He taught me how to forage, hunt, and fish. He told me all the great legends of our tribe. The saddest was the last one, that our Great Spirit guardian had sacrificed itself in the war. I asked him if that was why we had become so alone; he never answered. The winters were never cruel to us as they had been in the years before my birth. We hunted a large amount of game and ate as much as needed. Eventually we settled fairly low on the mountain, away from the village. Even both of us could not always eat all the food we caught. I was proud of my Pa. I was now eighteen years of age. I was very worried about my papa. He’s changed so much since that cold night. It was a few nights after I’d just hit my seventeenth year. I was afraid. I was not very good at hunting or fishing. I had become very adept at planting and creating things with wood. The Wise Woman of the village taught me to plant things like squash and carrots, so we started to plant things at our home. Her husband had taught me to build things after we traded many furs with them, so our small house is very sturdy. Papa was not very good at these things because he was stuck in the old ways of our people. That is what the Wise Woman had said. “We’ll follow the tracks in a bit, boy. We should rest up a bit. These muddy trails make it easy to spot them, but aye, my boots look terrible.” Papa laughed, putting his bow down. I saw the prints in the snow leading uphill too. Pa smiled. I was worried because he was ill. His lungs heaved with phlegm as he sneezed. We sat down and began snacking. “Should we really be hunting, still? I think you need rest, Pa.” I told him. “Nonsense. I’m fine. You just keep scouting for me until you can hunt as well as I. Then you can worry about me getting rest, boy.” Pa said, chewing on dry meat. “Yes, sir. I wish you’d let the Wise Woman give you medicine. You’ve been sick since the last frost.” I said, drawing in the mud with a stick. I was going to plant seeds whenever we got home from hunt. The dirt was starting to dry the perfect consistency for new seed. Pa began coughing hard and looked up at me as he spit up foulness. He asked me to look away. People died often because of illness, so I began to worry more. I think he could see it. “Calm down, lad. I will be fine,” He huffed, “And you need to be less like your mother and other father.” I didn’t think about it much, so I asked, “Pa, what were my parents like?” I chewed on some salted meat. We would dry all our meat this way to carry around. It’d make me very thirsty, but the stream was on our trip after this deer hunt. Maybe I could convince Papa to get medicine then. “Your mother was a wonderful, smart woman. She was very pretty and your father went through some trouble before the war to marry her. And your father, well, he was smaller than me, like you are. That’s certain.” He said, poking my arm. I laughed a bit. “He was a much smarter man than I ever was. I really wish he’d been around to see you grow up. He’d do a much better job than me. Both he and your mother.” He added, seeming sad. I didn’t ask these kinds of things much. “He was smart enough to name you for what you’d be really good at. Maker.” He said, packing up his ration of food and preparing to seek the deer. His name was always Papa to me, but in the village they called him simply Hunter. We went up the trail, seeing the prints go off. This was no problem, as the mud of the beginning spring left the prints terribly obvious. We’d never gone into this part of the forest for as long as we’d lived in the area, from what I could scout. The woods were extremely thick and many of the plants had gone green with moss- there seemed to have been a fire in the area. Pa had mentioned that the ‘Hidden Woods’ were cursed but as long as two people went in together and wore amulets, they’d be fine. So we cut through the woods quickly and reached the entrance to the mountain’s side. I’d never seen a cave like this. It looked like the mouth of a beast; jagged stone coming from the ceiling and ground of the cave. Mossy logs and brush lay all over the ground outside, like Pa’s feet moved quietly, pointing into the cave. It’d be too dark to see if we went in too deep, so we had to decide what to do. “Maybe I could go in and scare him out? I doubt there’s a bear in there or anything. If there is, it’ll get the deer before it gets me.” Pa said. “No, I’ll go.” I told him. “I’m not as strong or have great aim, Pa, but I can probably move faster than you.” “Ah, fine. I’ll admit you that.” Pa said, looking for a place to hide from the deer. I looked back and saw his pale skin under his clothes and cap. I’d hurry so we could get to the valley. My feet were very quiet and I tipped through, finding the best footing to sneak. My eyes adjusted to the darkness as I went deeper into the cave. Then I saw it. I wish I hadn’t. An altar sat alone in the spokes of the cave’s cold floor. I didn’t know what it was back then, but now I do. Atop the broken altar sat a small figurine. It was beautiful, looked like a real person, but smaller. I didn’t have time to see everything as the deer stood in front of it. I hadn’t made any great kills before and by instinct I shot the young buck quickly. The arrow pierced the buck’s neck all the way through. I was amazed and set another arrow in case it wasn’t enough. The deer lay its head atop the stone surface. It then fell to the ground. Without much thought I went to the deer and pulled out my knife. I was a fool for being in such a hurry. Maybe the evil one whispered to me without me knowing. I was just trying to get ahold of the buck’s neck to drain it. And that’s what I did. I pulled the buck’s head to the altar’s surface and slit its throat. I was stupid as I whispered out loud how great it was I’d found it. Then I heard the whispers, almost immediately. He whispered behind me as the blood dripped over the altar slowly. It pooled. I quickly turned and held my knife ready to attack whatever was in the cave. Nothing there. My other hand went looking for my amulet, failing to find it. It had fallen off, or maybe I had never put it on. I was doomed from the start. “Light… Fire… The room…” I thought I heard. Although I certainly didn’t want to follow the command, whatever it was saying, but I could definitely see better if I had. I quickly pulled out a small torchlight I carried for these situations (not that they happened often) and struck it against my belt many times. I tried to stay calm, but I shivered in fear of whatever was in the cave with me. “The room… Light… the room…” My small torchlight burst into a flame! I threw it at the altar, no longer worried about the buck. I grabbed the knife with both hands to defend myself and finally saw it. The flame landed right in the altar’s small brazier. The figurine finally showed its detail in full as the fire glowed. “Ah… It’s so good… to be back.” It muttered. His voice was somewhat like a puff of smoke, always blowing up from the flame. I fell backward in cowardice. The flame danced about chaotically at first, somewhat shaping itself. Eventually it did shape itself above the brazier, like a lantern, midair. I held my breath. “What a helpful young… Man. I’ve been gone for so long… What an offering!” the lantern blurted out before laughing hysterically. I clenched my teeth, trying to think of when to run away. “Oh, this is not the proper way for me to look like,” He said, sounding much clearer than before. He flickered around and stopped in different places of the area, observing the objects of the altar. “My, I remember this gift. What an artisan, he was. He was one of my favorites…” He said, covering the figurine in its flame body. The figurine didn’t burn. The flame seemed to disappear into the statuette, making it glow a strong red. “I’m glad someone called me back. I wonder where everyone’s been! I’ve got a bone to pick with them if they come back. They’re probably dead… fools, all of them.” The figurine said. I could feel his sight upon me. It felt burning hot, but inside, skipping my skin. I trembled and closed my eyes, not knowing what to do. I was so afraid of this thing. I didn’t know why. “Do you plan on sitting there or coming to meet your new friend?” He said, cackling a laugh at the end. I opened my eyes and saw the figurine sitting at the southern end of the altar. Pieces of cracked stone had blown off and the buck lay at the edge, its blood smeared. I tried getting up, feeling incredibly sweaty. “Well, aren’t you a handsome lad…” He said, vibrating the figurine. I could see it clearly; a great man like an ox. It had great big arms for its size and horns like the animal. I stood away from the altar for a bit before it boomed, “Come closer, weakling! I only wish to give thanks!” I couldn’t help but inch closer in fear as the brazier blew a bigger flame. “Who are you?” He asked. “I am called Maker. I make things from wood and can make plants grow strong.” I whispered, coughing from the heat my lungs felt. I can’t explain why, but my body felt as if I was soaking in sweat quickly. “What an interesting name. Maker. You’re an interesting boy, too. Heheh… Do you know who I am?” He said, seeming to whisper to me again. “No. Who are you?” “I am Bahketh, Prince of Fire and Strength…” He whispered. I felt his voice in my right ear, as if his mouth was there, whispering to me closely. I was so nervous and sweaty. “O-oh…” I stuttered. “And I would like to thank you for helping me. I will grant you…” He trailed off. As he did, I saw the blood on the altar disappear, leaving the stone clean. “I will grant you one wish.” He said. I stepped back. I looked around to see if my eyes would find him. “What do you mean? Where did you come from? I don’t want anything, you can have the deer, just please leave me alone.” “My dear lad, it’s only fair for me to repay you. Your tongue is too crude, but some have called me a djinn. We’re masters at granting wishes, you know. We’re even better at it when we’re given a gift… All I wanted was the blood. Now take my humble thanks or I will get angry.” He said, fire changing scarlet red. “W-well, I’ve never wanted anything. I don’t need anything. It is the way of my people. We only take what we need.” I stuttered. “Foolish boy, all men have wants. I have many powers… I can grant almost anything… Is there nothing you want? Do you want to be strong? I can make you the strongest man alive…” He said. I could feel my arms tighten as his magic fire filled my chest. “Or is there something else? Do you want the power over fire? I can make you bring down great storms of flame upon your enemies! I can make you wake the salamanders that slumber under the mountains, boy!” He said, his brazier lighting up bright yellow. It released sparkles that shaped into snakes of smoke. “No? Do you… covet someone? I’m especially good at that, boy… Is there a girl you desperately desire? A boy? You can tell me…” He said, making me feel awfully warm all over… “No, I don’t need anything. I have plenty of food, and a good home, and my health,” I said before stopping my breath. “What about my health? Could you do something for that?” “And so much more, my boy. You look awfully healthy to me!” Bahketh laughed. The bastard knew I was a fool. “No, I mean… Could you help the health of my papa?” I asked him. “Oh yes, boy. I can make him very healthy…” __________________________________________________________________________________________ Bahketh taught me to draw his name. I didn’t know how to write, but I certainly knew that words weren’t made that way. Even so, he made me repeat it again and again, in the mud of the cave on the walls. He told me to take a small cup left behind by his ‘stupid caretakers’ from before. It had a small lid and he stuffed it with ashes from his brazier. He told me to light them after my father went to bed. The flame bastard told me that although it’d sound painful to my papa, but it was him burning away the illness. I believed him. I hurried out as I recalled that I’d been in the cave for a while. I carried the buck on my back, feeling stronger than ever. Pa came running out of the bushes as he saw the buck in my arms. “Amazing, boy! I am sorry for not having so much faith in you, bucks are hard enough to catch in the dark on their own. You are definitely a man now!” Pa laughed, examining the buck closely. I felt proud as he patted my back. He coughed and we decided to head down into the Valley after cleaning the deer. Papa refused medicine again and went to sleep early that night. I light the fireplace so the house would be warm. I wasn’t as skilled with stone as much as wood, but the Stone Worker had taken a large fur as payment a while before. Father slept on the upper level of the house. He slept like a corpse. I began drawing Bahketh’s name with some of the coal he’d given me. It was soft and left stain all over the parchment I had at home. My hands trembled as I lit the small container’s ashes with some of the fireplace’s flame. I whispered again and again for Bahketh to come. And he did. Like smoke in the night, his shadow crept through the cracks of our home. The shadow quickly found home in the fireplace. He seemed more shaped this time, almost a man out of fire, flickering out of the shapes the large flame held. The dying winter felt like nothing with his presence around. I didn’t understand the whispers Bahketh made in the shadows of the house. Before I knew it, I found myself covered in sweat again. I saw Papa get up and walk towards the fire. At first I was afraid he didn’t know what was going on, but he seemed asleep. His feet moved clumsily as he reached the fire. Bahketh’s name began to burn into the parchment- red embers popped out in bits as I made a small slit in my finger with a knife. I let the blood drip onto the parchment only a bit to see it wrinkle up in flame. Bahketh laughed and covered my father in a blue fire. My eyes switched around, trying to see everything that was happening as Bahketh ‘cleansed’ my papa. The fire of the hearth blew out and ate at the walls. I tried to scream but found no breath in my lungs, just smoldering ash. I couldn’t breathe and fell to my side. I sought the strength to pull myself up as Papa screamed out words I knew he never learned from our people. I wanted to move, but I was a coward then too. Papa moaned and then began to scream as the flame ate through his sleeping garb. He fell to his knees and twitched as the flame diminished. He seemed to move back and forth, screaming in agony. Bahketh’s tongue was no longer my own. It said a great many words I did not understand. I got up and decided this wasn’t the course of action I wanted to take- Papa was certainly in pain. I ran over to him but only remember Bahketh’s burning arms slam me away. I landed across the house, hitting my head on the door. I blacked out._____________________________________________________________________ That was that. I woke up lying on the ground. I saw nothing out of the ordinary in the house. No fire had taken our home, no parchment or old container. Everything seemed fine. I raised my hand up to see a simple scar on the left arm. I looked burnt there, but it didn’t hurt. I then noticed my arms looked extremely striated, as if I’d not eaten the fats of animals ever. I’d say it looked sickly, but the arms looked fairly healthy and my skin looked fine (aside from the black scar). “Papa? Are you here?” I asked, nervously. From where I was standing, the stairs blocked the view of our home’s second level. I heard a grumble and then some shifting of our beds’ fabric. “What? Oh. Lad, how long have I slept??” asked Papa, from where I could not see. I held my head. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would; I’d felt worse on mornings after drinking with Pa. “I don’t really know, Pa. I fell asleep down here.” I said, sheepishly. I heard his footsteps as he walked down. They sounded different. Finally Pa came down and I saw him, naked. “Pa! Your clothes!” I yelped. “Oh! I’m sorry, boy. I didn’t… I don’t remember taking them off!” He said, embarrassed. I noticed how much better he looked today. His skin wasn’t pale and he looked to have eaten much better. His thick facial hair had grown in quickly in sleep. The shadow it cast on his face had become a tuft of mess. His hands looked thicker and less callused than before as they quickly grabbed things to hide himself with. That’s when I saw Bahketh’s name on his back. Sometimes people scarred themselves with fire. These are tattoos. It seemed to be Bahketh’s name, tattooed on my father’s lower back, above his buttocks. I swallowed my tongue as I saw that it seemed perfected and even more complex than what Bahketh had shown me. In all honesty, it looked beautiful, but I couldn’t help but be afraid once more of Bahketh’s presence in our home. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary though, and things went on much the same. “Well, I will tell you what, I feel amazing! I told you I didn’t need some Wise Woman’s medicine!” Pa said, lifting his arms in a stretch. They looked full of energy- powerful. “Just fine on my own.” We got dressed and did our duties for the day. It turned out little sun was left and we didn’t get much done, but we still had deer to eat for a while anyway. I made broth as Papa finished up around the house. He seemed unable to sit down, even when we’d worked hard all afternoon. “Pa, are you going to eat?” I said, tasting the deer broth. It tasted wonderful. My eyes watched the fire carefully, ready to put it out if necessary. “Aye, but gimme a bit! I’m just trying to,” He huffed, lifting and rearranging things in the house, “move some things around!” I looked over and saw Pa sweating a river. He had moved almost everything in the house so quickly- alone. He looked over and showed me his usual big, funny grin. “Now that you mention it, though, I’m really hungry. And thirsty! I suppose you already caught on though, as you made both food and drink!” He said, running over to the fireplace as I began to make our servings. Pa quickly ate his helping and went for three more. I got two helpings in (what I usually eat, anyway) before we ran out. He laughed and said he could’ve eaten more; I was astounded. Even he could usually only eat about three servings of broth, especially when I stuffed it with things from the forest. He held his distended belly and complimented my cooking. “Maybe we should learn to make bread, it sure fills you up better than broth.” Pa said. I liked the idea, considering I always wanted to learn to make things to eat aside from soups and cooked meats. “Well, if you keep eating like this. I think so, Pa.” I said, smiling back._________________________________________________________________________ Things changed. I didn’t know what to do and even ignored what seemed subtly suspicious. I became afraid. At first, everything seemed great. I never went back into the forest and even told Pa we shouldn’t. He obliged. He told me he had a great idea about how we could train to hunt better, one he’d gotten in a dream. I gave little mind to it and made the tools he asked for. We cut up tree logs in a way that we could hold stumps with our hands easily; handles. They weighed different amounts. I couldn’t lift as much as my Pa, but I still tried to do it with him. Then we began to eat much more. At first we were fine, hunting the usual amount. We seemed to keep up with our need for food by hunting almost twice, if not three times as more food as before. We didn’t need all the furs so we traded for even more tools and different resources. Pa ate a lot more but he pushed me to eat as much as possible. Sometimes he’d even get angry when I didn’t eat ‘enough’. I always wanted to make Pa proud, so I usually ate as much as he made me. My eighteenth year came. He said it was exactly on the full moon. Almost a year had passed by since the incident with Bahketh. I ignored most of the signs that his influence lingered. As long as Pa was healthy, I didn’t really care. One day, however, I asked Pa something he didn’t like at all. “Pa, doesn’t everyone from our clan marry young? I’m eighteen, and you have never told me to seek a woman.” I said. Pa looked over and quickly became serious as he responded flatly, “You don’t need anyone.” I was confused. I looked at him. He’d changed so much in the past year. His arms looked thicker than ever, the rivers of his veins popping out of his skin all over. I’d traded some clothing for Pa to wear but he seemed to only like the fur vests we would mend out of animals in the woods. They always seemed small around his barrel chest. Although he ate well, the only thing I could see on his body was lean. His abdomen seemed pulled in, tight like river stones collected neatly. I looked down at my own body. I’d changed too, but not nearly as much as he. My face scrunched up in confusion as to what Pa said. “Pa, are you sure? There’s no real way to keep our clan alive if I don’t marry, or if you don’t marry. You’re still young, I think you could. I wouldn’t get jealous of siblings, I’m a grown man anyway.” I said, trying to be positive. “You don’t need me, is that it?” Pa asked. “What? That’s now what I’m saying, Pa. Don’t you want to have more children?” I asked him. Pa lifted the handled stumps and huffed. He was drenched in sweat as usual. His hair had gotten very thick this spring, shiny with sweat. Often his skin would look red as he breathed in heavily to lift. “Pa?” I insisted. “What, Maker?! You don’t want me around, right?!” He yelled, throwing the stumps far. “Just do what you want! You’re obviously not my boy, you don’t need me anymore, that’s what you’re saying, yes?!” I was almost afraid. Not because I couldn’t defend myself, but because Pa had never been this angry. His great chest bounced up and down as he huffed. He seemed angry, but not just that. He seemed anguished. “Pa, you know I can’t do anything as good as you. You’re a better hunter. I’ll never find someone I can count on like you.” I said, almost shaking and not thinking about what I was saying. It was true, though. That was how I felt about my Pa. I remembered trying to figure out how old Pa was when the winter took our clan. He’d have been about sixteen when I went under his wing. My father was much older, I’d say. Pa always looked up to my real father- at least by the way he spoke of him. I figured it was an age difference. I tried to understand how lonely Pa must have been. “I’m sorry, Pa.” I said, wondering what he would do. I couldn’t see his face anymore as he’d went to pick up the weights. I almost trembled thinking he would become violent. He came back. I couldn’t see if it was sweat or tears covering his face, especially as he kept his head down. We didn’t talk much that night. Then I started to hear the noises at night. I’d made a few additions to the house now, so Pa and I could have some privacy. I started hearing noises coming from Pa’s room. I couldn’t tell what it was he was doing. I became afraid because I heard grunts and strange moans. Was Pa sick again?Pa started becoming really big. He made sure I ate as well, but his hunger for food was astonishing, if not amazing. He ate and ate until he practically fainted one night. I tried to help him up, but he just held me. There was a sadness in him that I did not know how to help. He also pushed me. I would feel very sore in the mornings after a night of freedom where we could lift for as long as we wanted. Not everything made sense of what he said about ‘lifting’, but he knew so much. Pa and I started a tradition of seeing our progress ‘growing’. I didn’t understand it, but it looked to be enjoyable to Pa. I thought it was fun too especially when I could show off my strength. Pa would show me how big he’d gotten in the week and then I’d do the same for him. We seemed to make great progress. I did something one night. I didn’t understand my body and felt pain in my groin. I thought of asking my Pa what to do even though it was very late in the night. The pain was keeping me awake. I went to his room and found nobody there. Quickly, I dressed myself and grabbed my bow. I’d become very fast since we’d started training ourselves for hunting. Even though I weight quite a bit more, I was sure I could find Pa quickly. I went by the river, close to the mouth. I became worried as the full moon shed its bright light upon the trees and mountain stone. My feet stepped quickly, noticing a smell that I somehow recognized as Pa’s. I’d learned to make soft –but durable- boots from fur and cloth and slipped into a shadow as I heard the rushing waters of the river grow. There Pa was. He kept complaining about the heat. It was now summer but the heat of the night was still nice and calm, so I didn’t understand. Pa splashed himself in the water and drank. He coughed as he drank. He was probably drinking so fast. He washed himself and relaxed, naked on the water’s edge. I’d never tried to pay attention to the body. Pa said it was a private affair for only a wife to see, once. I couldn’t help it as something in my chest pounded. Pa’s body seemed perfect. It seemed sculpted, massive, like stone. It seemed powerful, like the fires Bahketh had fed him. I felt the pain in my groin again. Pa stepped out and looked at small pool of water at the river’s side. I assume he was staring at his reflection. He lifted his arms and forced his muscle to push out, like a large rock pressed to escape his thin skin. He laughed and posed again, showing off his pectorals more than anything else. I guess by instinct I dropped my bow. My hands rubbed my own groin, as if I needed some release from there too. “So big.” Pa said. “I’m so fucking big.” I knew not what that word meant. I’d never heard it myself. Pa posed again and again. I saw something happen to his appendage. The leg appendage you call a phallus. It seemed to swell as he posed. I felt my heart race. “Look at how big you are. No normal man is this strong.” He moaned, rubbing his body. Every movement forced certain muscles awake. I know now what they are called. He grabbed the nubs men can’t use on his chest. I swallowed my breath, feeling aroused. Pa moaned loudly, his phallus bouncing. It looked like a large, red rod. His hands eventually moved around and grabbed onto his phallus. They wrapped around it like a large knife handle. His member was much larger than mine. I pulled mine out. I wanted to feel what Pa was feeling. His hands went up and down. I saw his big balls swinging around. I looked at mine and felt them. They felt tender, swollen. “I want more. I want to grow more!” Pa yelled, groaning as his hands moved up and down his rod. I copied, feeling a sensation I’d never felt before. I would say I had felt it before, but I’d never done such things to myself in those situations. I then could see something strange as my Pa turned sideways. He must’ve wanted to see his side but couldn’t see his wide back. Bahketh’s name shimmered in a way I assume was enough for someone to see from afar, but not without direct line of sight. Pa moaned as my chest’s beat pounded. I couldn’t take it anymore and spurt out seed. Almost right after, Pa moaned and pounded his rod. He exclaimed once more, “I want to be huge!” Pa didn’t take much longer and spurted seed too. He fell backward as his white liquid gushed out like a small torrent. It splattered everywhere. On the ground, his chest, his face even. I looked down and saw a large sum of seed on the ground as well. I didn’t have nearly enough to match Pa, but I thought there was so much, considering it was like a small puddle two feet away from me. I couldn’t stop from moaning as I felt pleasure in my body. My phallus didn’t feel painfully hard anymore and set down to rest. As I did this, Pa grabbed his bow. “Who goes there?” He said. I quickly recovered myself and went on my way. Pa was skilled, but he’d never track me. That night I got to the house and cleaned myself as best as I could. I was too tired to worry if I had done right, watching my own father do such things. Part III: BAHKETH Another year passed and the fall season came. Pa had gotten massive. He couldn’t walk normal as his legs seemed to get in each other’s way. I’d heard someone in the village say he was an ogre. Pa looked very rugged but maintained clean. I obtained a blade to shave with regularly and I did it for both of us. Pa asked me to shave his body too, even though it was very difficult. I followed suit because he once said muscles looked bigger that way. At least this way people wouldn’t say mean things like that. And Pa wouldn’t fight them… I didn’t seek a wife. I met a nice girl in the village once, but Pa quickly scared her away. I wasn’t very interested, but I was determined to keep our clan’s bloodline alive. One night Pa’s bed broke. It was one of the first pieces of furniture I made. He only laughed and said we should just share a bed. I disagreed as we both were far too big for a single bed. If one of us didn’t fall off, it’d surely meet the same doom his bed had met. I’d gotten very skilled using tools and made a better bed for Pa. I found mine broken (with obvious assumption as to how when Pa told me he might have taken a nap on it) but made no argument. It was just proof that I was a skilled craftsman if the bed didn’t break, right? I didn’t get much bigger since the year before, but Pa said I did great. I smiled often when he measured my growth. I was starting to wish to be as big as him. He would sometimes show off in the village. He picked up men in each arm and would curl them like he did our weights (Which, by the way, I had to replace with bigger ones…) and would pull great animal-sized carts with ease. Things took a turn for the worst at night. I started planting more things and did very well. I grew lots of cucumbers and started harvesting. I found one missing and eventually learned what Pa had done with it. On his usual ‘cooling’ nights when he’d get his terrible fevers, he played with the cucumber. He would push it inside of himself, moaning and making many noises that bothered me. I found myself spilling my seed as my needs asked for something I shouldn’t have wanted. I started wondering if that was what Pa wanted, and started experimenting myself. I went down to the village one day and made friends. They seemed to make fun of me for not understanding sex as well as them, but I think they feared me. I was very strong and known as Hunter Son. Maker Hunterson. They didn’t laugh at me in front of me. One of them brought a harlot along and had her spend time with me. I learned that I didn’t like what she had to offer. Pa became more verbal that fall. “Do you like my size, boy?” He said, very seriously once. “Yes, Pa. You know I do.” I said, laughing. We sat on the ground, cleaning beans. “I don’t think I can get any bigger. I want to be bigger. I want to always take care of you, lad.” He said, tossing my hair in his hand, as if I was a boy still. I felt like a boy, always smaller than him. “I doubt I will, though. I can only get older from here on.” I pondered a while on what he said. I found myself later walking through the cursed woods, holding my bow ready. I was stronger now, and I knew I didn’t have to be afraid. The Wise Woman taught me how to make holy items. I wasn’t good at it, unusually, but she said that the items would drive away evil spirits no matter what. I never told her what I was doing anything for, but I’m sure she knew something was going on long before I had. I stepped through the thick brush- thicker than I remembered. Pa would go hunting by himself. Said he wanted to find himself a bear. I felt sorry for the bear. I pushed back the thick green and saw the cave again. It’d been two years, maybe more. I stood in front of the cave. It had changed since I was there last. It looked cleaner, as if it were more of a temple. I slowly walked in and looked around. There was much lighter than before. The heat was heavier too, I could feel my chest breathe in humid air. The altar was much more well-kept now than ever in my memory. The statuette sat there, waiting for me. “Well, well, well…” huffed the spirit. “Hello, Bahketh. I greet you with respect.” I said. I wasn’t nervous. “I hope you do, but I really hope you greet me with more…” He whispered, rubbing my body with his unseen warmth. “I seek nothing, Bahketh. At least nothing for myself.” I said, pulling out a small bag. “What is that, young man? My, you’ve gotten so much bigger on your own, without my help. Well, direct help. Do you like that power?” He fizzled. I opened the bag and let out the contents. I had obtained a box of incense. It was very rare, I’d received it as a gift for helping the counsel of the village stop a pack of bandits with my father, from a prominent family’s daughter. Jewels dropped out, all from different mountains from afar. “There is something I want,” I managed to say before Bahketh interrupted. “I know what you want. Your father is a very strong man. But he wants more, yes?” Bahketh asked. “Yes, oh great one.” “Maker? Boy?” I heard from outside the cave. I turned around. Pa was there. He looked over at the altar and back at me. “What’s going on here?” He asked. “Where are we? I followed you because I was worried. Should I be worried?” “Pa! How did you follow me?” I asked, nervously. “I followed your smell –I mean- tracks.” He said. “Come, my acolyte.” Bahketh whispered. Pa walked slowly, without hesitation. “Your boy wants to make you bigger. Stronger. You want that, yes?” Bahketh asked. Pa stared at the statue before processing all the information. “Yes! That’s what I want! Wait- is this- is this how I’ve gotten so strong?! I’ve never felt this way in my entire life! It’s amazing! I feel so powerful!” Pa said. Bahketh laughed. “Your boy is no normal man. He is a Maker, just as his name states. He has the power to focus magic. You should thank him as much as you should thank me.” Pa looked over at me. I noticed the erection he was growing. He was practically glowing. “Your boy and I are also alike in other forms. He is benevolent, like me. He wants to make you even stronger.” Bahketh whispered. “Is that true, son? You can make me stronger? I want to be stronger, boy! I want to be the strongest!” Pa said, grabbing my arm. He then pulled me in and embraced me. I’d never felt the way he made me feel when he embraced me. “Well- Bahketh granted the wish. What do you want, oh Great Spirit?” I said, nervously. “I want your Pa to give me his name. But he can’t do it by himself, you need to give it to me.” Bahketh said. “I don’t understand.” I said. “Why don’t you ask your father?” Bahketh said with a grimace. I could see his smile in the fire of the altar. Pa looked nervous. I looked over to him and asked, “What does he mean?” It took him some time before responding. He seemed to think about it a bit before Bahketh complained loudly. He made the room burning hot. Pa finally answered. “Our clan gives up our names to the person we love the most. It’s a tradition we hold in the spring. I did it a few years ago for you. It’s usually something for marriage… But I have nobody, lad. I always have only had you.” He said. “And that means that he doesn’t own his own name. You do. The binds of your clan’s tradition make it so he can’t do anything. I will grant you this wish, if you want me to, but you have to give me his name.” “I-I don’t think I should be doing that!” I yelled. I still understood very little. I looked back and forth at both of them, skin red hot with embarrassment. “Boy, please! I want to be the strongest!” Pa said. He held me close, almost crushing me. He posed his arms and smiled before embracing me again. I desperately remember his embrace. “But Pa, I don’t want to make this decision for you! Why don’t you just take back your name?” I said, trying to pull out of his grasp. I didn’t want to, really. “I can’t do that, boy…” Pa said. He looked sad at me. I knew what he meant. He didn’t have to say it. “And that’s all, right? You’ll make him the strongest as long as you have his name?” I asked the flame spirit. “He’ll be as big and strong as he wants. All I need is his name.” Bahketh said. “Just say ‘I give thy true name away, Hunter, to the great spirit BAHKETH.” I breathed in heavily and held it in. “I give thy true name away, Hunter, to the great spirit BAHKETH.” I smiled at Pa and held his hand. I’d never held his hand, at least not to my memory as boy or man. I laid mine inside his one last time. Pa smiled back at me, with his big smile. “YES! FINALLY!” Bahketh screamed. The statuette fell to the side and cracked. Out came the flame and grabbed onto my papa’s face. A shockwave sent me flying. Bahketh’s cackle filled echoed on and on. The flamed disappeared as it went into my pa’s mouth. “Pa?” I grumbled, rubbing my neck. “I don’t feel much different,” Pa said, looking back at me. He then screamed and held his stomach. “Oh… Oh! It burns! Gah! It burns!” Pa screamed. He trembled as his skin went red hot. He fell to his knees as he screamed again. His hands grabbed his head as he howled. Pa’s forehead quickly pushed out two small horns, little points that poked under his long hair. The mark on his back began to spread its ink, like a black flower. It covered his chest and upper legs, like vines around to his neck. Pa then began to moan. He seemed to stay alive and well even if the flames came alive on him. At first I saw his arms shake. His shoulders widened and found more space close to Pa’s neck. He growled as his arms weighed heavy with swelling muscle- it looked like a pumpkin was stuffed under his skin on both sides. His hands, however big they were, seemed very small as his arms trembled. I tried to come closer and even shot an arrow at the altar in hopes of distracting (and maybe stopping) Bahketh. The arrow evaporated in flame quickly before reaching the altar and I felt the singe of the fires myself a few steps in. I could not get close as my pa’s arms moved up from the pushing of his enlarging back. He looked like an hourglass as the sides of his midsection popped out like small wings. “Bigger! I want to be bigger! It feels so good!” I pulled out my crude amulets in hopes to use them against the foul spirit. Bahketh cackled the moment I pulled them out. They crumbled in my hands. My eyes let out tears as I saw father’s stance widen. His legs had become thicker than many young trees of the forest. They looked denser too. His abdomen cracked as the bricks on his abdomen pushed outward. I started feeling the warmth in my groin again, in shame. Pa’s close tore as his chest exploded outward along with his legs. “So good! So fucking strong!” Pa said, flexing his body as he grew. His rod pushed out from the burning clothes, swelling up in a size I could never imagine fitting a normal human. It looked thicker than my forearm. Somehow it lifted upward even with the massive weights that were under it, both sized like many fruits from the garden. It simply bobbed up and down and trickled seed onto the ground. Pa thoroughly enjoyed what was happening, even though his head seemed to be being swallowed by his massive body. Bahketh laughed and let the fires die down as my father started fondling himself. Pa’s chest had stretched out his nipples like coins, yet grown them outward to large nubs that he moaned when played with. I breathed heavily as I tried to remain capable of clear thought. Bahketh whispered terrible things in my ears, caressing my body in a softer heat. He tempted me. Pa stroked himself as his height increased to accommodate his growth. I’d say he was about eight feet tall at the end of the ordeal, but I couldn’t keep track of such things. He moaned and yelled out in a thick, deep voice. It was deeper than before, like the growl of a beast in the woods. My pa could no longer contain himself and spewed outward, shooting far into the air and away from where he stood. It came like a river of white, splashing and somehow not evaporating from the embers that had dwindled with the ending growth. I felt myself wet inside my gear, but not from fear and piss, but longing. I longed for my pa’s massive body to touch me. “Foolish boy! Do you know who I am?!” Bahketh finally exclaimed. His voice seemed to cover my pa’s. Pa’s eyes themselves had gone white. “I am BAHKETH! Efreeti of Lust, Fire, and Strength! Genie of Smolder and Ecstasy! The pinnacle of all flames! None are stronger than I! I fell from grace, but now I will return to the material world I was once barred from, so full of delicious pleasures! All thanks to you, my boy! Or should I say, my son?” I felt my heart sink deeper than I will ever remember. I understood what Bahketh had done. The statuette lifted into the air and cracked, letting out a small tear in time-and-space open. Now I know what had happened. I saw Bahketh’s truest form. It barely peered into our world as he commanded Pa to walk over to me. I stood there, afraid and aroused. Pa walked up to me. He was not Pa anymore, but not Bahketh. He grabbed me and squeezed me in his palms. I thought he would kill me but he simply tore off my clothes. The possessed man pushed me onto his skin, letting me feel the mass. I felt Pa’s massive chest, rock solid and burning hot. He forced my mouth open to taste Pa’s stone-like abdomen. I felt a shameful delight as my phallus hardened in its own rock-like density. The possessed Pa licked my own body, tasting different parts and biting where he saw fit. My neck, my buttocks, my sides. He bit hard enough to hurt, but not enough to pierce through. I closed my eyes in hopes of living, in hopes of forgiveness should my pa come to his senses. “Tell me you like my mass, boy.” Pa said, deep and slow. “N-no, Pa… Please… Stop this… We can get away…” “Feel these arms. Feel how strong and powerful they are.” I couldn’t hold on and finally whispered, “…It’s amazing, Pa.” "Do you want to be crushed between these great legs?" He said, forcing my hands onto them. I felt their density on my fingers. My chest couldn't contain the energy I received from the arousal. "You're gigantic, Pa..." I said, moving my hands around on the striations. Pa’s mouth landed on mine. I couldn’t stop myself and tasted the inside. It was somehow sweet, like fresh fruit cooked in a warm fire, yet different. His tongue played around with mine, long enough to touch the insides of my throat. I thought I’d choke but I only moaned. Pa held me in the air with ease as he did this, finally letting me feel his massive rod touch me. His tongue licked mine. I whimpered at the amazing sensation. He fit mine in his mouth and suckled as he lifted my legs over his shoulders. I moaned and felt the ecstasy wisp me away. Pa pulled me out of his mouth and then licked elsewhere. I feel great shame for he licked me in an awful place. It felt so pleasurable, it bothers me today. His tongue pierced through and played around inside me. I finally understood why Pa liked to do this to himself. Pa finally pulled me down to his own throbbing member and pushed my mouth on it. It was literally too big to fit inside, but he was gentle. He simply growled, “Lick it, boy. Satisfy your papa.” And I followed suit. He moaned quickly and played with my body as well as his own. He pushed his hands over mine so I could feel his massive legs while I licked. I was lost. I had no congruent thought. “I curse you, Maker Hunterson. I curse you to lust as badly as your father did, every night thinking of giving your own name to me…” Bahketh whispered under my pa’s voice. I looked up and saw the black tear that dripped from Pa’s eye. He smiled still as the tear dripped away and evaporated on the burning ground. Pa came again. He drenched me in seed, cooked like milk in the winter morning. I opened my mouth and swallowed what I could. It tasted like honey. I moaned and came as well, whimpering as the sensation squeezed my groin tighter than ever. It hurt as it tightened out every last drop inside me. I heard the voice in the window cackle. A colossal arm -both muscular and bigger than even Pa’s- smashed through. The voice growled loudly in its own beastly form as another arm stretched the doorway out. I could see Bahketh’s smoldering orange eyes. His name burned on my arm, unfinished but obviously his. I screamed in pain as it burned to the bone. Bahketh laughed and petted my papa. “My acolyte. You shall walk the earth, spreading my name in the shadows. When the time has come I shall become a glorious god as I so deserve.” Bahketh said, voice booming. It was certainly not a whisper anymore. Pa turned as the seed forced me to change slowly. I fell to the ground as my body became led. Pa walked towards the door and bowed. “Yes, master.” He said. “But now, you shall enjoy true paradise. Come to me, my acolyte. Enter the plane of Lust, where my flaming abode hides. Our enemies have been winning for so long, and we must plan… We must rejoice your coming home. I shall soon take even the planes of the Abyss and Heaven as my own.” The portal stretched even more so. Bahketh’s face smiled with teeth like a monster’s. His red skin burned with embers and eldritch-orange symbols. He caressed my pa as he walked into the burning doorway. I could only whisper my Pa’s name before I began sensing the loss of it in my existence. I felt my bones push and break as my body grew when Pa looked back at me once more. I still think the pain was worse in my heart than it was in my body. I would have screamed as the door closed, leaving the cave steaming and alone. I lay, growing slowly and painfully. I could feel everything; the bones cracking, the muscle tearing. All of it, before the growth rebuilt me. It felt pleasurable underneath the pain. To this day I want more, in secret shame. I felt my arms swell and my neck become thick. My legs felt like pillars in a temple, heavy as well. My eyes opened as I saw the thunder rolled in the night sky. I got up very slowly, trying to move with the new size. I looked at my body, remembering what my Pa’s looked like. I would certainly be a weaker scout now, but that was fine. I needed to become a warrior. I needed to find a way to defeat the foul genie, Bahketh. I stumbled around, learning how to use the self-obtrusive legs I had just obtained. My groin felt heavy already with seed as I looked down at a massive member that swung from side to side. I didn’t get far before having to release. I met the Wise Woman in the dark. She said my voice had become even deeper. The rain helped conceal me. I begged her for advice. The Wise Woman told me this was certainly beyond her power. I cried in agony. She gave me a pendant that had been passed down to her. It carried the symbol of an ancient people. She said that the mountains hid a strange prison whose lock was now broken beyond repair. I asked for her forgiveness. The Wise Woman said nothing. I learned later I had been fated to release the burning djinn long before. Her people had dwindled (ironically like mine) and hid amongst the village. They were prepared to end their bloodline. I prepared to end mine. The pendant was to help me find someone who could battle the bastard, but that was the only help the Wise Woman gave me. I returned to the house and packed what I could. I packed extra to head to the village and trade. Nobody recognized me in the darkness of the rain and night. I quickly obtained a sword and things a traveler could use. I gave up my tools. I was no longer a maker. I was no longer anyone. I write in this journal, hoping that if I should fail, someone finds it. I can feel Bahketh’s whispers at night. I can feel his hands toying with me. I know the knowledge to give him my being is hidden in the dark depths of my mind. Every day is a struggle. I want that power and strength. I beg the spirits of the land –the only few benevolent left- that they guide me to death before my mind finds destruction. But who knows, deep down, I want Bahketh to grow me as much as he can. End? Author End Note: I thank you very much for reading my work. Please suggest themes that you think would be interesting, or tell me what you thought could use work through a comment! I sincerely hope you liked it.

Just another warning/reminder that there's some "weird" stuff here: bodybuilders birthing bodybuilders out of their nutsacks and violent sex scenes/language/imagery. Enjoy! -------- Each time a new muscle baby had been born into the room in a pool of ejaculate they were taken backstage, shaved and tanned appropriately, for showing off during the progeny round. This round basically reflected the results of the domination round, in that it ranked competitors based on the quality of their muscle babies that had been birthed in the show. The victor of the domination round had surprisingly been Martin, who, spurred on by his defeat of the gigantic Wyman, had scored a full 119 points, having pinned down, penetrated and deposited a muscle baby in every one the evening's finalists. In second place was Wyman, who had scored 17 points with every competitor except Martin, who you remember overcame him after being unsuccessfully pinned down. The top three performing men were called out; Wyman, Martin and Chen Xiao, who had produced four muscle babies that night. They were each followed by their muscle children onto the stage, once gain dressed in the respectful black speedo that was the equivalent of black tie at these events. The muscle babes were all roughly the same height, around 7', although they would continue growing for quite a long time, with the exception of the vascular, ripped beast birthed to Wyman by Jean Marie, who having accelerated his growth at an unbelievable rate now stood sixteen feet and eight inches tall, his head touching the banner that hung from the roof of the vault. It was the first time in history that a muscle baby had exceeded its father's height in such a short space of time, and he was even larger than the dozens of Wyman's other muscle babies that sat in the audience. He had been weighed earlier at 2100 pounds, and now that the thick mainly hair had been removed from all over is body his incredible definition showed. The grooves between each of is abdominal muscles were deep enough to run a finger through and his chest was the size of a car, inflated to twice its size when he inhaled. He never stopped panting and sweating, and within minutes of his all over shaved thick patches of sweaty hair had already reformed under his massive arms that rested almost at 90 degrees due to the vast, sweeping lats that exploded from the side of his body. The hormones that Wyman fed himself in abundance had been even more strongly transmitted to his muscle baby to the end that whilst everybody else on the stage was dressed in their regulation speedo, he was fully nude as he simply never ceased to masturbate. The power of is sex drive was such that his erection was constant, and his cock so heavy that it hung down even when erect. Assistants on the stage were given instruction to constantly be pumping the huge nine foot long cock to prevent his balls from swelling up. Every two or three minutes his abdominals would begin to pulsate rhythmically and a deep moan filled the stage as two thousand litres of cum poured out of the giants balls. The scoring of this round was a foregone conclusion- the presence of this one muscle baby that had surpassed all known norms and expectations granted Wyman a certain win. Whilst Wyman's muscle babies all had the angry, fierce and chiseled face and strong rugged jaw of their father, Martin's were far more handsome and had delicate features, a small nose, long eyelashes and beautiful green eyes like him. Their body hair was very light brown and a huge tuft stuck out over their speedos. I looked forward to meeting them all and worshipping those bodies. However there was one thing I wanted that was purely for myself. Ever since seeing the massive muscle baby of Wyman's suck up the semen from the ground and grow at such a stupendous rate, I was desperate to do the same. Clearly the high-testosterone hormones in Wyman's semen had caused this, and I figured in the muscle baby’s semen the level would be even higher. The audience had dwindled to around fifteen people- the rest had exhausted themselves fucking during the domination round. So I took advantage of this opportunity to get down on the ground and drink as much of the muscle babies jizz as I could in the interval as the muscle babies were escorted off the stage. I filled my water bottle, again, and again, and again. I had drunk eight litres of the 22,000 that had been spilt, and my stomach began to bloat, enough is enough for now, I figured, and went to the bathroom. Whilst in there I encountered Jean Marie, the extremely handsome French bodybuilder who, after being almost ripped apart by Wyman's muscle baby, had birthed two more on behalf of Chen Xiao and Martin. He seemed close to passing out, but was polite and friendly, and I confided in him my theory regarding the muscle baby cum. He seemed open to the idea of ingesting some but was not lucid enough to engage in real conversation. He sat down opposite the wash basin, his massive cock and balls slumping down to the ground, weighing down their latex prison and invited me to sit next to him. My immersion into this underground bodybuilding world had only started a couple of months prior, and I was still a nube weighing only 420 pounds at 6"8, but I suspected that Jean Marie was happy for some company that was not likely to overpower and fuck him to the point of near death. He held me in his big strong arms and both our cocks rose to their full glory as we began to massage each other and slide into blissful orgasm, covering ourselves in gallons of hot creamy seed. He licked some from the tip of my cock as it continued to pour out, his rugged facial hair becoming matted in my sticky man juice. As we rested for a moment, Mustafa ran into the bathroom, totally unsurprised by what he saw to inform us that Wyman's big muscle baby had begun to spasm uncontrollably after having gown to beyond thirty feet tall, weighing in at 6430 pounds and that he had had to be tranquilised with drugs intended for whales. He was effectively dead now, as without consciousness there was no way for him to recover from this state. Mustafa ran out as he had taken it upon himself to spread this very unusual news. I smiled and began to laugh, and Jean Marie asked me why I was so amused. "You see, the muscle baby you birthed is now dead, and the only person who consumed his cum, full of those magical growth hormones, before it was too late, is me! My hormone makeup is changing as we speak, I can feel it, and I'm going to become the biggest man that ever lived! Let's go see what's happening to that baby!" I said, grabbing the Frenchman’s hand and running out of the bathroom.

Took me forever but I finally finished another chapter of this old story. Problem is, when I thought of it, I didn't expect there to be so much for a new chapter. Oh well. Comments are appreciated. Part 1: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/1510-belly-down/ Part 2: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/1525-belly-down-part-2/ Part 3: http://muscle-growth.org/topic/1530-belly-down-part-3/ Part 4 Casey shuffled in his sleep as the night progressed. He wasn’t conscious enough to be frustrated that he wasn’t sleeping with his phone music playing in his ears. He was still coming to and hearing something nearby. Thump……grunt……thump……..grunt……thump……grunt…. Casey pulled his eyelids up in a squint as he looked up at the ceiling of the athletic dorm with his nose wrinkled and his brow furled. “Wha….” he grumbled as he could hear the sound a little better. Thump……grunt……thump…..grunt…..thump….. Casey looked over to his roommate, Kenny’s bed and concentrated into the darkness to find his bed empty. Rubbing his eyes a little, Casey over again and thought he saw something move and duck under the bed. He went silent and his senses peaked a little as thought that, for a moment, there was another creature besides he and his roommate in the room. Every few seconds, something went up into view slightly before quickly ducking back down. Casey sat up a little, expecting a mouse or a lost wild animal but, rather than that, he found something a bit stranger. The timing of the floor thumping and the grunt were in a perfect rhythm that didn’t slow down as Kenny proceeded to do pushups on the floor. Casey was wide eyed looking at what must have been a familiar red head doing pushups on the floor. Kenny was glistening in the moonlight as he dripped sweat from head to toe. Kenny was wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs that were clinging to his body as they were the only thing he was wearing. Casey was unsure how to react as he saw Kenny lift himself up and down at a steady pace for more than the entire 2 minutes Casey had watched trying to figure out how to respond. “Kenny?” Casey finally asked after realizing that Kenny might not finish doing push ups at the speed he was going. Kenny was in a zone of his own, taking deep breaths and grunting without hearing Casey. Casey started to snap into Kenny’s ear as he’d proceeded to return to an upward position. It was only then that Kenny stopped and realized he was no longer the only one in the room conscious. Quickly, he sat up as if he hadn’t just done n uncounted number of push ups and quickly went over to his gym shorts and shirt in an attempt to quickly cover himself. “Casey! Shit! I’m sorry, I thought you were asleep!” “I was but then I heard noises. Were you just exercising, buddy?” Kenny was silent for a moment as though he were weighing the odds that he could get away with pretending that he wasn’t just trying to push the floor down. He sat down on his bed and crossed his legs, pressing his hands on each calf. “Yeah….” Casey could see that Kenny was having trouble figuring how to handle the situation and smiled a bit. “You don’t have to be shy” he said. “Once in a while, exercise works fucking magic to get you to sleep.” He was relieved to see Kenny become less red with that comment. Casey propped himself up on an arm and scratched through his bed head. Kenny looked up and his cheeks reddened some at the sight of Casey waking up in his shirtless state with his muscles bulging in the light with his beautifully shining hair.. “You’re really full of energy, huh?” Casey asked. Kenny nodded. “I couldn’t sleep cause I felt like I’d end up beating my head against my pillow. I can’t figure out why I’m so wired.” “Did push ups help?” Kenny looked down as though he were ashamed, which Casey thought was cute. “I’ve been doing them for a while.” “How long?” Kenny didn’t respond this time. Casey got the hint that they were still not close enough for him to speak the truth clearly. Casey yawned, covering his mouth, and shrugged. “Don’t be ashamed just because I’m here, man. I’m sure you’re still glowing after killing the competition yesterday AND killing your weights. You worked hard to break your PA.” Kenny didn’t respond again but that was the perfect opening for a voice to ring in his head. You definitely worked but you're not tired are you, came a voice. Kenny tightened his grip on his calves as he heard Nick awaken within his mind. Casey continued to speak. “Just be sure not to tucker the shit out of yourself, OK? I got work tomorrow so you’re on your own getting a ride to class. Maybe you can get a ride from Tex?” Kenny looked at the ground as if contemplating what to do but he couldn’t hear his own thoughts with Nick speaking. Tex? Oh, I didn’t know you kept some side beef on the side. You’ve already got a beef cake right in front of you. You hungry boys and your appetites. Kenny spoke under his breath without thinking. “He’s not beef. He’s Tex.” “What?” Casey said, hearing Kenny say something out of earshot. Kenny looked up and scrambled what to say. “I said….um….we’ve got beef. He’s been really shady lately.” Nice save, Nick said. “Kenny, we both know that if Joe is in a bad mood, it just means he’s having a great day. When do you not expect him to act that way?” Casey asked. Hmmm, interesting, said Nick. Kenny was having trouble keeping up on his points in the conversation to speak with Nick talking. Oh, I’m intruding on your ‘private’ conversation, huh? “I’ll call him in the morning and see if he’s free” Kenny said to Casey reassuringly. Casey turned in his bed, facing away from Kenny and prepared for sleep before stopping to turn his head. “Oh, and you can use my pull up bar if you need to. It definitely puts me to sleep when I’ve got insomnia kicking my ass.” With that, Casey turned fully away and, after a few minutes, was back to slowly purring in his sleep. Kenny looked at his beautiful back for a few minutes. Umph, you could use that thing to watch a movie on, Nick joked. Kenny got a bit mad at that. “Pervert.” Oh, don’t tell me you don’t want it, Nick said. Kenny didn’t get to respond before Nick came back with another strike at his shell. Oh, I see. You don’t just want that. You want your own, don’t you? Kenny stood up abruptly and went to one of their dorm closet to pull out Kenny’s pull up bar. He ignored the laughing as he attached it to the bathroom doorframe. Even when inside your head, you don’t cease to interest me. We’ll see if we can wrap some of him up for your birthday. Kenny was completely silent and unresponsive as he grabbed the bar and struggled with his first pull up before catching up to a steady and modest speed. The entire time, he couldn’t control the hard and dripping cock that was fighting with his waistband on the way up and down. --- Kenny was impatient as he waited outside the athletic dorms for his friend. “Leave it to Tex to come when he’s ready.” Kenny was wearing one of his largest t-shirts underneath his jacket. It was a little chilly this morning as he tried to keep himself warm and it didn’t help his clothes felt wrong. The sleeves he wore were slightly higher and had shown just a bit more arm than he usually preffered (which was normally just the forearm and outward). Kenny’s jeans were snug and felt like they were leaving his ankles defenseless since he wasn’t wearing long socks and his shoes felt like they fit perfectly, so perfectly that he could feel both ends and moving his toes was now a bit difficult. Kenny’s bag on his back felt a little light but it made sense since the class for today was going to be so short. He’d been waiting outside for atleast 30 minutes waiting before a silver car came around the corner and parked in front of Kenny like a cab that was always punctual. The door on the passenger side opened but Kenny wasn’t pleased. “Come on, princess. We haven’t got all day” came the voice from inside the car on the driver seat. Kenny got in roughly, threw his bag in the back seat and slammed the door shut. “Don’t dent my fucking car!” said Tex as he glared at his passenger. Kenny glared back. “Where were you?!” Kenny said angrily as he buckled his seat. Tex pulled off without a hitch and turned to glare at Kenny’s blue eyes with his own. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? You’re getting a ride from ME. In this car, I’m the only fucking person whose shouting!” exclaimed Joe. Kenny didn’t argue as he looked out the passenger side window. He couldn’t look at Tex and be angry when he was as hot as he was. “I don’t need you fucking pissing me off after Geoffrey just broke up with me!” Kenny rolled his eyes. “Again?” Silence pulled Kenny’s attention to look back at Joe’s face. Already his anger was gone looking at that beautiful face as it drifted off into the road they were on. Tex was a really handsome guy when he wasn’t angry or testy. He had a cleft chin that was molded well with his solft yet firm looking skin as the early showings of a blonde beard were showing across his well crafted chin and his high cheekbones. His manly brow and perfect length blonde eye lashes were like a shield to protect his glistening eyes that shone like the deepest parts of the ocean. Tex was wearing a black windbreaker for a jacket that was doing little to hide his muscles as he drove and his arm muscles would press against the adjustable fabric. Ken could only assume he would only have met someone like Tex face to face thanks to Casey, who was close friends with the school powerlifting team. Tex was one of the largest at over 250 pounds and looking like he had the muscles to bench press with just his neck! Tex made a solid cut at somewhere around 10% body fat and atleast 6’3. His muscles rubbed against each other with some movements because he was so well built which made him just that much harder to contain himself near Tex. It was miracle he was gay but it was a bit of a let down for Kenny that they hated each other and that Tex was in an on-and-off relationship with his boyfriend. Kenny knew that he’d have to face this but he didn’t want to do so with Nick near. That’s hurtful! Nick said with a mock voice that sounded like he was pouting. Kenny ignored him and tried to talk to Tex. “It’s ok. You two will patch up.” “Who said I want us to fucking patch up, asshole?” Tex struck back. Kenny was silent for a moment. You’re really letting this happen, huh? Nick said. Kenny bit his lip as he tried to block out Nick so that he wouldn’t notice his hard-on growing in his snug briefs to no avail. Oh, now I’m caught up. Those within the car didn’t speak for the rest of the trip. When Kenny got out, Tex finally spoke. “I’m not giving you a ride home too. Good luck.” As he drove off, Kenny felt a little stranded as he stood there alone amongst other people heading into the building he was heading to. With reluctance, he headed for the building with his mind in the distance and his feet moving themselves. --- The class ended after a 40 minute lecture from Kenny’s professor. The entire way, Kenny had been doing everything in his power to take notes, stop from thinking about Tex, AND distract Nick from scrambling his train of thought. Distract me? What do you think I am? You can’t hypnotize me with a song like a garden variety snake, Nick said with a huff. Kenny was passing around the corner and heading for the entrance when suddenly he felt warm. VERY warm. Oh good. The delivery's here! Nick said with a laugh. Kenny suddenly panicked and tried to avert the gazes of others as he headed for the bathroom with ‘growing problem’. By the time he’d made it to the bathroom mirror, Kenny had already locked the door, barricaded it with a trash can and was splashing cold water in his face. FINALLY. I was getting sick of you thinking about how thirsty you were during that dry fucking lecture. Kenny looked in the mirror to see his face being moved by someone else with his face but owning red eyes. “What the hell are you doing now?!” Ha! I’m not doing anything. You’re the one drawing the gun, quick dick. You think I didn’t see those images of you watching your friend Tex squatting while you were trying to distract me with that crap about some crappy news you heard on TV this morning? Please, that’s insulting. Kenny was now hunched over and clenching the sink as he looked down and witnessed his 8 inch boner pushing against the crotch in his pants. “What do you mean?” he groaned as he fell to his knees and unbuckled his belt. You didn’t think there were side-effects to all this new size and strength? You're pumping a new level of hormones that you’ve never experienced before. Isn’t that obvious? You’re in a fucking biochemistry class, Kenny. Kenny was on his knees and fighting with his zipper as his cock pushed against the fabric like a caged animal. You’re also getting a mix of what it means to really make a contract with me. Just pretend this is like having a panic attack. Well…. except that you’re pumping cum instead and that you’re panicking because you’re horny as fuck. Kenny struggled to fight this sudden urge as he finally got his zipper unlocked and watched as it bounced out of his pants and stuck straight out from his groin. “No…. stop..” Ok, so that’s getting old. You’ve been fighting the urge to cum all day. That’s not healthy with your new body. I’m surprised your dick hasn’t fallen off or your balls haven’t exploded, quick draw. You’re a man (a growing one anyway). You can’t hide all this pleasure or you’re going to either explode in a cloud of cum or have the bluest balls at the ball, my friend. “Shut up! I’m not afraid to cum!” Says the one who spoke to Casey the beef cake and Tex the New York steak without so much as a trip to the nearest bathroom. Something like this is key if you really want me to keep my end of the bargain. “But—“ “Your butt doesn’t apply here. I’m talking about the growing spear sticking out of your pants” said Nick. Nick was now behind Kenny and rubbing his shoulders. “You’re so stressed with all this bullying and bad friendship and school and wrestling. You’re going to suck at all of them if you don’t rub one out here. Everyone needs a little pampering, right?” Kenny was now on the ground grunting and fighting his pre cum dripping cock as he lay, hunched over. “Ugh, you need me to help you with everything” Nick concluded as he stopped rubbing and suddenly grabbed Kenny under the arms and lifted him up. Kenny had no time to protest as he watched himself in the mirror drag him backwards into the outer wall of the stalls in the bathroom. “While you were dreaming up the latest Spongebob episode to keep me busy, I dug a little deeper and found one of your fantasies.” With no restraint, Nick wrapped both arms around Kenny’s torso and got to work. Suddenly, Kenny had his ass pressed against Nick’s own 7 inch cock as he grinded him and had one hand on his cock and the other on his left nipple. “You’ve never told one you have sensitive nipples have you?” Nick asked as he had a hand dipped under Kenny’s shirt and began rubbing up the nipple in his hand and lightly played with it. His other hand was going to work on Kenny’s cock as he tugged on the modest yet reddened cock. “Oh fuck. I think I’ve found your weak spot” Nick said as he leaned forward a bit and nippled on Kenny’s ear. Kenny groaned with his eyes forced shut as he tried to keep under control in a losing battle. “Stop resisting. You don’t have to hide being horny. You’re gay with jock friends everywhere you look. Even in that mirror there.” Kenny opened his eyes slowly to see that he was in the reflection of the mirror with Nick behind him. Nick’s red eyes were noticeable but Kenny’s attention slowly went to his lifted shirt and then to the muscle he could see in his pants. His clothes looked a bit tighter than before and so some decent thighs were visible against the light fabric he wore. Kenny was grinning as Nick noticed how muscular his torso was now with the two pecs above a defined 6 pack of abs. The pale skin made Kenny’s muscles look like marble as he tightened different ones with every pull of his cock and twist of his nipple. Kenny’s grunts sounded less restrained as he began to get off on himself. “There we go. That’s better. Just let it all out. Give up one good blow and you’ll feel better. Just….one….more…..FUCK!” With a tightening of Nick and Kenny’s muscles, Kenny’s cock launched a white wad of thick cream up and out at the mirror a good distance away. For the next 6 shots, Kenny was pumping come from his sizeable balls that hit the mirror at a downward angle before he began to slowly lose the force behind it. Kenny was exhausted as he slumped on the bathroom stalls by himself, his cock dripping and a somewhat noticeable trail of cum went from the mirror back to him. Nick chuckled a little as he viewed his handiwork from within Kenny’s mind. That’s better. Feels good right? There’s more where that came from. To Be Continued….

Tales of a Lust Mage #2 By ROBOPROBO SUB TAGS: Magic, Basic Growth, Height, Combat, Characters (Bradley, Xaekus, Rafael, Alice), The following work of fiction portrays fictional characters in sexual situations. Please do not read if you are not interested in stories written for erotic purposes, if you are not of legal age, or if it is illegal for you to read sexually explicit material in this format or through this medium. Author note: I feel there is much more plot in this installment than there was in the last. I do apologize if this feels like fluff. I DO split up the stories in parts, so if you feel you don't need too much plot, head over to Part 2, about halfway through the story. The sexy things start happening there. I un-officially will be using 'sub' tags so you know what will be involved in each story. TALE II Part 1 – Mortals and the Gazes of a Magician Rafael was a pretty boring, average eighteen year-old. As he mopped the floors of the shop he worked at, he pondered what he'd be doing for another year in this town. He was excited to go to his dream university but -due to his father's illness- he'd deferred his attending date for another year. He'd come to terms with how things were going, and figured at least it'd be another year before he reached full solitude. Rafael wiped the counters of the yogurt shop’s registers. The tiny little shop was called ‘Leche Lucy’ and was owned by an old family friend (Lucy). She had known Rafael since childhood and was considered a ‘godmother’- she gave him a job for the next few months while he took care of his dad. For now Rafael took a few classes at the local community college and worked part time here. Things were pretty calm in his life so far, if not somber. Recently Rafael began working out a lot more. He had enough time to do so and liked the ability to excel in a physical activity. In school he wasn’t very coordinated and he never made the teams for any sports. He’d tried out for wrestling, soccer, football, tennis; all in vain. He’d been a late bloomer and he happened to be a year younger than all his classmates, giving him a very large disadvantage in the physical department. Now that he was a year and some months out of school he felt capable of at least weight lifting appropriately, and hopefully athletically in the future. Because Rafael often worked alone in the store, he found himself wandering mentally about everything. School, work, and so far- fitness. He’d started dieting these last few weeks and certainly noticed some good changes. Changing your lifestyle so drastically always made you think about it constantly, but he was finally getting used to it for the most part. Rafael wished it hadn’t poured today- business had gotten really bad in the last few hours. It made him anxious enough to clean the shop twice. Now he had nothing to do. He stood inside the kitchen and decided to rearrange some things. The young man could even practice his squats a little as he picked up large tubs of flavoring and yogurt ingredients. He liked to feel his muscles ask for more oxygen, even if it were more warm-up than work-out. A few minutes went by of him moving boxes and tubs of different things before he heard the bells on the door signal the entry of a customer. Rafael almost groaned as he had just started to pick up a sweat (he’d started counting how quickly he could move a certain amount of things at a time, sort of like reps). “At least some people are not so afraid of the rain,” Rafael whispered to himself. The shopping was not one large building but rather many shops linked to roads. The mall was indeed big but fell prey to the weather’s mercy. Rafael swallowed his breath before he could finish his thought. His eyes were looking downward, so he’d gotten fairly close before experiencing the sight visually. There stood a tall, wet guy in the shop. Rafael tried to not let the intimidation shake him as it often did when there were attractive people in his vicinity (men or women). This guy though- this guy was on a different plane. The guy wore what seemed to be a blue pair of slacks, but really expensive looking ones- perfectly shaped to his fairly muscular frame. Rafael’s eyes had already gotten to curious by instinct before he could look away. They noticed this guy had no jacket on, simply a white shirt and red tie. Rafael had immediately begun holding his breath as he knew that this man had been drenched. This meant his physique was certainly seeable through said white shirt. Often, Rafael felt jealous when people like this man were around. They were perfect –and even if they worked for it- he always felt inadequate around them. He tried not to look and finally noticed his breath was still on hold. He almost gasped as he remembered to breathe. Time seemed to go far too slow as everything felt awkward. “Can I help you?” Rafael said in an octave higher than his usual voice. The man wasn’t looking at Rafael and turned his head away from the outside windows to greet him. “Oh. I was caught in the rain. My umbrella broke.” Said the wet man flatly. “That sucks. What were you looking for, exactly?” Rafael tried to say. Rafael could feel the guy seek eye contact, almost menacingly, like an animal that could roar anything into submission. Rafael couldn’t help but be pulled in to the man’s gaze as he learned his name. “I’m Bradley. I’m new in town and I figured I could just check out the shops. Weather came down and greeted me with open arms.” As he said this, Rafael couldn’t help but swallow his tongue. Bradley was fairly tall and carried a wide pair of shoulders. His black hair had gotten wet and curled over his forehead. Rafael could not prevent the man’s brown eyes snare. His brow was intense- like an action hero, shooting his eyes at Rafael forever. That’s what it felt like, but looking back Rafael knew it must have been an awkward minute. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” Bradley said. Rafael returned to Earth and coughed, “Yeah, yeah it’s over there on the wall, I mean, by the wall! I mean.” Bradley laughed and looked at the puddle that was under him. He didn’t seem to mind that his chiseled abs and pectorals clung to his wet white shirt. He simply looked back up to Rafael and said, “I’m so sorry about the mess, should I run to the bathroom?” You could get shirtless, it would keep the dripping at bay and you’re basically shirtless anyway, thought Rafael. Bradley immediately began unbuttoning his shirt. Rafael almost jumped back at the feeling that his mind was being read. “Something wrong?” asked Bradley, pulling off the soaked shirt. His skin’s muscular ridges glistened with droplets of water. “What? No-“ “I just thought it’d make more sense to not drip all over the place,” Bradley said, placing the shirt on the ground. “You’re not uncomfortable, are you? We’re just guys.” “No, of course not, I don’t care!” Rafael almost yelled from anxiety. “I’ll go get you some towels or something!” He said, stumbling about. Who was this guy?! Was he a model? What was he doing in boring Tripole?! Bradley dried his hair with both hands, seemingly showing off his well-developed triceps and v-shaping lats. Rafael tried to not look. Luckily he was accustoming himself to speaking normally. Bradley looked at him and asked, “I didn’t catch your name.” Rafael observed his facial features as he said this. Bradley carried a prominent brow- it made his eyes intense, aside from his stiff demeanor. The young man –by Rafael’s guess, twenty-one, maybe twenty-five- carried well-groomed facial hair that matched his now waving brown locks. His skin was fair, almost pale but lively still. His face was longer than it was square, making his general visage look more slender than muscular at first glance. “I’m Rafael.” The shopkeeper responded. “Call me Brad.” Rafael almost smiled out of instinct as Bradley talked to him. Rafael was interested in this stylish, athletic person (as there seemed to be few and far between in Tripole). Rafael never really thought about sexual attraction as much as he pondered what was beautiful and what wasn’t. Bradley made him more afraid than sexually interested, if anything. Rafael didn’t think himself gay, either. “It’s a good thing I brought some clothes with me,” Bradley said, “I heard it might storm terribly today so I used my weather-proof backpack.” “Backpack?” Rafael asked, seeing Bradley open an orange pack. Bradley did not respond. Rafael could have sworn the guy walked in without anything on him, but whatever. There was no point in asking. “Mind if I change in your bathroom?” Bradley said. “No, it’s basically public to customers.” Rafael said. He quickly wanted to take back what he stated- knowing it sounded a bit rude. “Oh, I don’t even know what this shop is. I’ll get something, then. You sell yogurt?” Bradley asked. It either seemed that Bradley smiled sparingly or he was not very amused. “Y-yeah, ah, all these different machines have a different flavor. I can give you a sample of each, if you like. You seem pretty fit, are you interested in some fat-free pineapple yogurt? It’s my current favorite.” Rafael rambled. He gulped at the realization. “Yes. That sounds like a good idea. Are you interested in fitness?” Bradley said. It seemed Bradley blinked little. He was always observing, from what Rafael could tell. Observing from far away. Rafael grabbed a tiny sample cup and let Bradley taste. Bradley licked the top and looked at him. There was no reaction. “Did you like it?” Rafael asked. He was starting to get nervous again. “I’ll take four ounces.” “Right away, here, just take this cup and you can add things from the bar over here. Fruits, candy. Whatever you’re into.” Rafael said, with relief. “Oh, so I don’t really order. That’s a pretty clever idea. Do I pay by weight? Flavors?” “Weight. Sorry, I should probably explain everything.” “I think I can keep up.” Rafael kept worrying that Bradley was unamused or offended. He walked awkwardly around the bar to the register. “Add your toppings, and we’ll weigh it for your total price.” And so, Bradley got a small cup of yogurt. “May I go change now?” Bradley asked. “Sorry, I didn’t really mean you had to buy something or you couldn’t use the bathroom. That probably sounded kind of rude.” Bradley was tasting the yogurt. He actually closed his eyes for a long time- maybe to savor the yogurt and do nothing else. “Oh, this is really good. I’m glad I walked in here and not some fast-food trough.” Bradley said, moving his spoon around in the cup. He lifted the spoon and looked over at Rafael. “I am having a bad week, I thoroughly enjoy all these little shops usually, just haven’t had the chance to really-” He was saying, before dripping some yogurt onto his chest. He looked down. Pineapple yogurt dribbled down his dense pectoral. He looked up at Rafael- whom was staring. “Well, are you going to lick it off? Or do you want to wait for it to slide onto my nipple?” asked Bradley, indeed seriously. He was still shirtless. “What?!” yelled Rafael. His face flushed. “Hmm? I said, ‘is this a family owned business?’” Bradley repeated. He grabbed a napkin and cleaned off the spill. Rafael scratched his head. “Yeah, sorry, I misheard… Yes, well, technically. I call the owner my Grandma, but she isn’t, really. Her son and daughter take care of the store, but they just opened another down south at another mall, so they really don’t get here often. They hired someone else for the weekends, but that’s basically the only time there’s someone else besides me here. I came in early today because a lot of chores needed to be done. I even though of closing, but.” Rafael tried looking out the window. He felt uncomfortable. Was he interested in this Bradley character? “I’ll be right back, going to change.” Bradley said, grabbing his backpack and walking off to the bathroom. He came back out wearing a tight green tank top and blue shorts. He seemed ready for a work-out or a day at the beach. Somewhere somebody could enjoy his physique. The clothes seemed small for him; made his musculature look even bigger than the wet slacks and shirt. “So, do you work out, Rafael?” Bradley asked. “Yeah, I try to. Been trying to gain weight. Well, muscle.” Rafael tried to say, jokingly. His progress was still not too much to show off with. “Oh. You only work here? School?” Bradley said, slowly sitting in a big round chair. Clarisse, Gram Lucy’s daughter, had funded a new ‘look’ for the shop so it would resemble a modern café. There seemed to be a giant void around Bradley. Maybe it was just how Rafael felt. “I have two classes, both at different store hours. I don’t really need to miss work.” Rafael said. He had a habit of rubbing his fingers into his hands away from view when he was nervous. His hands were at his sides, behind the counter. “Oh. I see.” Bradley said, quietly. His eyes seemed to stare down Rafael, who was ironically standing up. “What else do you want to tell me, Rafael?” Bradley said slowly. Rafael opened his mouth before thinking and quickly spouted out everything that followed. “Well, my father is dying and I know it and it’s been causing so much turmoil in the house. My Gram is such a nice woman but I know she doesn’t know how to help more so than making my father and I feel like family. I’m not skilled enough to do anything and even though I got accepted to the university I’ve wanted to go to since forever I doubt I’ll become a good sociologist because people don’t even know what sociology is and I’m a hug nerd that somehow got to talk to one of the cool people. You’re one of the cool people- you’re some really buff cool dude from who-knows-where and you somehow ended up in the terribly normal Tripole, where no cool people ever stay and I find you extremely intimidating; so much so that I’m questioning my sexuality because I kind of want to be your friend just to see what exactly it is I’m feeling. I also feel so shallow because you’re pretty interesting as a person on your own, without being so cool and buff and attractive.” “So you don’t always get this nervous around attractive, muscular men?” Bradley said, letting his tongue reach out for the spoon slowly. “I don’t, what-” Rafael tried to cough up as his face went rose red. What just happened?! “You have bad hearing. I said, ‘Do you research a lot of fitness? Bodybuilding, and the like?” Rafael looked around the room; what was happening to him today? Did he have a lack of oxygen? Was he hallucinating? “Oh! Ah, sorry, I. I do, I’ve started trying to eat enough macro-nutrients to obtain my goals. Kind of hard, but slowly.” He said, trying to calm down. After some talk about lifting, Rafael said something awful. “Sometime maybe I can have a physique like yours.” He swallowed his tongue immediately after his brain registered how awkward he sounded, only to become surprised at his new acquaintance’s expression. Bradley’s lips pursed. They almost curled at the ends –upward- as if to hide a smile. Rafael almost smiled too, were it not for his unease. “You like this physique?” Bradley said, returning to his almost monotone voice. He flexed his arms by placing his hands behind his head, elbows pointing upward. His lats spread out like wings. They squeezed his well-defined pectorals- whom were peeking out of the tiny tank top. Rafael felt his chest squeeze as well, but from a loss of air. “W-well yeah! I mean, not to sound weird, but you have a great body. I know you probably worked really hard for it, so I won’t be rude, but I’m pretty jealous.” Rafael said, laughing. He felt like he could say anything right now. Bradley had told him about his old home in New York, work with a law firm, and school education. They were almost friends, right? “Well,” Bradley said, looking down at his expensive-looking ring. “I wouldn’t say I ‘worked’ hard for it. I don’t really deserve it, I just happened to be at the right place at the right time. I’m actually trying to slender down. I have a few persons to blame.” Xaekus sneezed as he filed paperwork into cabinets back at home. He was having a hard time not following his master around. He at least wanted to yell at Bradley for not faxing all paperwork properly (the printer jammed). “Oh, you mean, like your genetics? Lucky you.” Rafael said. Bradley almost smiled again. “Do you have a training partner?” he asked. He tossed the yogurt cup away. “No, I don’t really.” Rafael said before stopping his sentence. “You don’t really? You don’t really training partner?” Bradley asked. “I don’t really have any friends.” Rafael said, sheepishly. “Oh. Well, if you ever want to work out, I’m new here too so I need a good spotter. Would you be interested?” Bradley asked. “Yes!” Rafael said loudly. He swallowed his tongue as he tried to gain composure quickly after. “Here, this is my office number. I’ve got to get going since the rain has dwindled- need to pick up some groceries.” Bradley said. He put on his backpack and picked up the wet bag Rafael had given him. “Call that number to set up an appointment with my secretary. I’ll see you Thursday, that’s the next workout day for me.” Bradley said, walking out of the store. Rafael looked down at the business card- it looked so fancy. It was an ivory, thick paper with shining ‘gold’ leaf. It looked like it belonged in an old movie about business men and CEOs. The words were made up of small, intricate script. Apparently, Bradley owned his own ‘multi-level consulting service’, whatever that meant. Was Bradley a lawyer? Rafael stared at the card, wondering who exactly he had just talked to. ___________________________________ Thursday came and Rafael found himself inside the gym. It was early in the morning, before the yogurt shop was to open, and Rafael had nothing else to do. He was almost excited but feared how much he’d drag down Bradley- if he were to come at all. The voice on the phone sounded really annoyed to hear about having to set up an appointment, Rafael wanted to tell them it was okay not to. “No, you already called, we don’t want all my time to go to waste,” said the secretary on the line. Rafael thought his name might be ‘Xak’, by what Bradley had mentioned of his employees. “Ah, I really mean it, if it’s too much of a bother, I can tell Bradley,” “Excuse me, I think you mean ‘Mr. Rourke’. If you have no professional business with him, I would suggest you use his professional name, at least. Thank you. I’ve set up the appointment for 9 A.M. sharp. Do not be late.” The voice on the other side said quickly before hanging up. And so, Rafael found himself inside the gym. It was raining hard again so he’d gone inside. Someone asked if he needed help with anything and he told them he was waiting on a friend. Rafael began to fret as the clock struck nine. He looked to the door to see Bradley walking in with a large black umbrella folding in his hands. Bradley wore a black suit today to match. His silver sunglasses made him look distant as he put the umbrella away in his leather gym bag. Rafael looked down at his baggy sweatpants and grey shirt with a frown. “He’s with me,” Bradley said, handing the attendant his badge. She blushed. He was so commanding, somehow without a direct word. “Do you need workout clothes? I brought an extra set, in case.” Bradley said, walking to through the locker room. “Well, I think what I’m wearing works?” Rafael asked. “Nonsense, you can’t see any of your physique in that. You need the motivation of seeing your body pumping new growth, or you’ll get slow results.” Bradley said, unbuttoning his shirt and placing it on a hanger with its jacket. Rafael tried to look away. He looked at the clothing Bradley had set down. A cerulean V-neck and black shorts were folded neatly. Rafael picked them up and saw tags still on them. New clothes? Rafael thought. They looked expensive, too. Brands he’d never heard of. “Relax, I didn’t buy those for you,” chuckled Bradley. He seemed to know what Rafael was thinking. He chuckled. “Ah, but they’re about my size.” Said Rafael. “Because I got those in the past- I forgot about them, but they were for my size.” Brad said. “Oh.” Answered Rafael. Bradley was once a normal size. Today was predominantly leg day. Bradley spotted Rafael. Rafael knew that workouts were sacred, so he tried pushing aside his anxiety to later. It was difficult, as Bradley tended to spot real close. Sometimes Bradley’s chest would touch Rafael, or Rafael could feel the static between their clothes. An exaggeration, but Rafael felt that way. Brad’s form was almost perfect. He swayed a bit when the weight racked. Rafael tried to help as much as possible. Bradley didn’t focus much in weight but seemed to push out tons of reps. Rafael found himself trying to keep up and sometimes bumping into Bradley. The quiet athlete said nothing. Rafael couldn’t help but wonder what it’d feel to touch Brad’s big, meaty legs. They stretched the fabric of his shorts with every squat. Brad looked like he pumped up quickly, his quads seeming to push his shorts out every exercise or so. Rafael thought maybe all bodybuilders (or whatever Bradley considered himself as) got this way when lifting. And so, Rafael worked hard. At the end he found himself exhausted and drenched in sweat. He huffed, upset that Bradley had mostly just-started breathing heavily most of the time. “Sorry if I drag down your workout, Bradley.” Rafael said, as they were changing. The gym was small and had no showers. “This town needs more gyms.” Brad said, showing off his chiseled abdomen. He put on a loose sweater. He looked tired too. “Also, just call me Brad.” He added. “Oh. Okay.” Rafael answered. Bradley and Rafael went to the lobby. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around, or whatever?” asked Rafael. “If you like, you can work out with me anytime. I’m not trying to gain mass, so we can go ahead and workout light until you’ve reached my ‘level’ of expertise. Just call Xak again, he’ll take care of you.” Bradley said, putting on his watch and rings. “Oh, that guy… Sure.” Rafael tried to laugh. “What, was he trouble?” Bradley asked. “Oh no! Sorry no, he seemed pretty cool.” Rafael eased. “Hmm. Is that so?” Bradley said, “Well, I’ll see you, training partner.” He raised his hand out for a handshake. Rafael smiled and clasped the hand. “Ouch!” Rafael yelped. He pulled his hand to see a small red dot on his hand. “Oh. Sorry, I forget this ring has a jag. I should toss this thing, but it was a gift.” Brad said, “Do you want to get a band aid or something?” “No, I’m fine, it’s not that bad. I’ll just wait until it clots on its own.” Rafael said. “Thanks so much for the workout!” He managed to add, happily leaving the gym. Bradley waved good bye and smiled, almost forcibly. His sunglasses seemed useless at night, but he sure looked good in them, Rafael thought, stealing a glance once more. Bradley waited a bit to observe his ring. There was definitely a drop of blood on it, preparing to dry. He needed to be quick. He almost grimaced at the ease his plan had worked with. Part 2 – Dream Walking Rafael prepared to shower. He couldn’t get Bradley out of his mind. Was Rafael gay? He’d never felt any attraction to anyone. He knew so little about Bradley, but there was an essence to him. A feeling around him. Rafael felt comfortable and somehow scared in his presence. He looked in the mirror and frowned- there was nothing like Bradley’s in the reflection. No well-groomed hair, no defined and masculine beard, no intense brown eyes and long, handsome face. Rafael felt his chest sink; it was hard being average. He didn’t consider himself even that. Rafael went into the shower and lathered, rinsed. The norm. His mind wandered around. Work, Dad, Bradley. No! Work, Dad, school. Rafael folded down a bit, trying to get his mind off of Brad. He lathered downward and couldn’t help wondering what it’d be like to maybe hold Bradley’s bicep. It was so toned, like a baseball. Crap. Rafael had an erection. Maybe he’d deal with it, but he certainly wasn’t going to think about Bradley. “What are you doing, master?” Xaekus said, trying to push the bottle around. When Brad got home, it was to the bottle for Xak. “Nothing!” Brad yelled out. He couldn’t find the jar of lavender incense. “Master, who was that young man that called?” Xaekus asked, slowly pushing the bottle. He couldn’t see what his master was doing in the other room. “Just a friend. Is that you moving your bottle, should I come in there?” Bradley said, lighting the large brazier. It spout fire upward. “No, Master, I’m not doing anything. Just like you.” Xaekus growled. He saw a pile of papers on one of the tables in the room. I just cleaned up those files, Xaekus thought, angrily. There were a few specks of mud on the floor Brad had tracked in. Xaekus growled. “You don’t have friends,” bit Xaekus. Bradley found the lavender. He’d make Xaekus arrange all the incenses alphabetically tomorrow, this was stupid. He heard Xak’s remark and grabbed the shade’s sage too. “I close this room by the power of my god spark.” He said, tossing a handful of shade’s sage into the brazier. It gushed out black smoke and began circling the room. Xaekus groaned- now he would certainly not see anything. “Go clean the house, Xaekus, by my will and order.” Bradley said. “But master, you haven’t fed me!” Xaekus whined. He didn’t say more, knowing he’d receive no answer. He went onto his business. _________________________________ Bradley grabbed a handful of lavender and tossed it in. He pulled out a red pendulum- amethyst, his favorite for this work- and chanted. He began undressing himself. The white vial of strange oil popped open in his other hand. He rubbed the pendulum with it and then his tongue. It tasted awful, but Brad was used to it. He closed his eyes as his focus seemed to waiver. The white vial held a strong hallucinogen. The pendulum swayed around, finding its own focus. Bradley had dream walked before, he did it often without wanting to as he slept. One night he’d been going through the town, learning about it and seeing if he could find a good place to post an actual office. Last thing he wanted was a witch hunt- they somehow happened in the modern world still. Maybe it was the subconscious telling mortals there was magic? He’d been going past dreaming people, many spirits, and definitely ghosts. None bothered him. He looked over and saw something glint that night. He went to see out of curiosity and saw Rafael. He saw his soul squirm in sadness, worried about the future. To each their own, Bradley said, preparing to leave. “Oh, you know he seems interesting.” Alice said. “Ugh, no. Not right now, Alice.” “It’s that time of year.” She said, playing with her long, blonde locks. She weaved them into a bun and giggled. “AliCiel, look. I know I’m supposed to reach my quota, but I don’t know what to do right now. I did some pretty good things last year.” He said, sitting next to the sleeping Rafael. “It’s not even against your better being, honey, and as great as those things were, once again they weren't for yourself.” Alice said. She wore a very crisp white suit. “Fine, okay, so what do you want me to do?” Bradley said. His usual calm demeanor was wavering with annoyance. “Make a friend. All you have to do is something good for the better of others and for yourself.” Alice said. “So I just change him how he wants, and then I don’t deal with you again for a while?” Bradley snapped. “You make him confident in who he is, and improve him. Don’t replace him. You didn’t replace yourself, you just improved, remember? Besides, he's much more important than you think.” Alice said. The feathers of her jacket’s shoulders glistened. “Angels are almost as annoying as djinn, and are half as useful as demons. Have I ever told you that? I set up an extremely successful large-scale adoption agency that helps kids find homes last year, and that wasn't enough? You’re at least two months early.” Bradley bit. “Oh stop it, you know you love me. I’m your higher guardian. You don’t call on me often anymore, but I know you’ll always need me for some emergency.” She said, giggling. “Now help him. He’s trying hard, he just needs a push. You know it isn't small if I direct you to one person. He may look normal, but he’ll be important soon enough. Who knows, maybe you’ll learn to be friends with people.” So once again, Bradley found himself standing above the thin, average looking young man. He’d been seeing him regularly for a while now. If it were in person, it could be considered ‘stalking’, but Bradley had been doing most of his information gathering through dream walks and his black mirror. He learned about Rafael’s hard work, his skills, and his kindness. So tonight he’d help Rafael the best way he could think possible; giving him some will power. He knew that although Rafael worked out, studied hard, and tried his best there was always something dragging him down. Rafael’s father was dying and there was no family left to connect with Rafael. Maybe it was that? Maybe it was the bullying Rafael had received as a child. It could have been the differing look he carried in comparison to most of the ‘attractive’ people that he saw often in town. He was different too- he loved art and could not focus on certain things in life. Rafael was told time and time again to choose simple careers like his other schoolmates. The boy had not listened. Bradley didn’t feel too bad for him, everyone goes through this. Everyone can choose to be successful. And yet here he was, wondering what his Guardian Angel could mean about this seemingly normal man. As Rafael slept, Bradley poked his body, looking at what foundation there was to work with. Bradley was very good at magic of the flesh, but as Alice directed, he would have to do most of the work the good old fashioned way. He found that most minds kept intact better if they were changed slowly, anyway. _______________________________________ Rafael yawned and wrestled around with his sheets. He would get very cold and used a lot of them. His hands crept around slowly, half asleep, looking for his big pillow he would often sleep curled around. He rubbed something smooth, not like fabric. Rafael did so for a bit, looking for a way to grab on. His mind began noticing the anomaly that was skin not his own. “What the hell…?” He murmured, about to bounce out of the bed in a startle. “What’s wrong…?” murmured someone else in his bed. Rafael almost jumped out of the bed as he pulled the cover off. There lay a muscular, tall man. He curled up a little as his small red underwear proved weak only against the cold room and massive basket. Rafael had no time to pay attention to such things, but it became obvious in the seconds to come. Bradley curled around and opened an eye to look at him. He let a small smile show. “What’s wrong?” He asked, groaning and reaching for Rafael with his fair, sculpted arm. Rafael tried to gather his thoughts but was still very sleepy. He felt light as air as he tried to step out of the bed. Everything seemed to vibrate in different rhythms- making him want to lie back down. “Are you all right?” Bradley asked, getting up and stretching a bit. He yawned as his hands played through his hair. His chest heaved up with said yawn. Rafael couldn’t manage to respond and hung onto the edge of the bed, lest he puke or fall from the strange vibrating. Bradley didn’t show much emotion, as usual, but he seemed to carry a semblance of a smirk. He seemed almost cocky, in a way. “Come on, Rafael. Get back in bed. I told you I would return home in the morning.” “I’m not. What is…?” Rafael finally managed to say, stupefied. Bradley’s hand rubbed Rafael’s leg slowly. He whispered “Oh, you want to go again?” Rafael couldn’t manage to say anything and certainly not figure out what was going on, seeing tall Bradley pull himself out of bed and walk around. He stood in front of the sitting Rafael in the darkness. He lifted his arms and placed them behind his hands behind his back- stretching so as to show off his v-shaped body. His lats spread upward and framed what was an abdomen that could be made of marble. Bradley breathed in and let his chest expand outward, on display for Rafael. Rafael didn’t know what to do. He hoped that his time sitting up would help him awake and sense things better, but he felt light-headed even now. He felt like he was going to vibrate out of control, especially with Bradley showing off his body in such a way. Bradley let go of his pose and stepped closer to his small friend. “Do you plan on just sitting there, or touch me?” He said, quietly. Slowly Rafael responded by reaching out and feeling only Bradley’s skin. “Bradley, I don’t know where I am.” He whispered softly. Bradley hushed him and said, “Just call me Brad, Rafael. I already told you. Now enjoy what you like. It’s for you to do with what you will tonight.” Rafael calmed a bit and slowly got up. He still didn’t know how to feel, but he’d wanted to see what so much musculature was like. Brad was certainly lithe and tall, but his definition and dense mass looked amazing in the violet moonlight. Rafael’s hand moved around, feeling Bradley’s hard abdomen. There were no blemishes, no scars, all of it perfectly smooth skin. Rafael rubbed upward and felt Brad’s dense pectorals. They were like mounds of rock, stuck to a human’s front. Rafael couldn’t help but slide his finger up and down his cleavage. He could feel arousal rush through his legs. He couldn’t help but look up at Brad and observe every inch he wanted to since the first day they met. Rafael didn’t understand what he was feeling, but he certainly liked it. “Do you like my face?” Bradley asked, rubbing the smaller man’s shoulder. “Yes…” Rafael muttered quietly. His mind was adrift the blue mist in the room. “Do you fear me?” “Yes.” Bradley breathed in quickly to flex his biceps and show off his chest once more. He did this for a few seconds and then sat next to Rafael. “Do you want to be strong, like me?” Bradley asked. He held both Rafael’s hands on his legs, pushing the fingers over the ridges of his striated quadriceps. “Yes, I want to be strong.” Rafael coughed. The world stopped bouncing around and Rafael felt everything balance. He looked up at Bradley’s outstretched hand and put his own in its grasp. Immediately he felt a warmth- an energy. He closed his eyes. Everything seemed to move slowly. Rafael felt his blue boxers tighten as he looked down at his legs. They were outstretching along with his feet. He found himself skinny as a twig but as tall as Bradley. Bradley himself leaned in and kissed him passionately, squeezing him in muscular embrace. This sent a wave of ecstasy through Rafael. He felt his frame widen with sinew that grew between his shoulders and chest. His legs thickened as Bradley’s arms squeezed in on his abdomen. His waist tightened smaller. Bradley let go of Rafael, not once wavering his gaze. Rafael looked at his hands as they pulsed with blood. His arms had become veiny. He looked at his body and saw that it was solid as rock, pressing the veins out and stretching his dark brown skin. His hands still up he looked back at Bradley. “Flex for me, stud.” Bradley commanded. Rafael followed suit, posing himself only how he thought he could, since he’d never posed for anyone. He let out his arms and then showed off his biceps. He couldn’t manage to look forward at Bradley in shyness. Bradley managed to chuckle and pushed his arms slightly up to fix his pose. He let his fingers land between Rafael’s now stone-solid pectorals. They slid down, pushing to get to the cleavage’s base; Rafael instinctively flexed. Bradley then let his fingers run like a weaving snake between Rafael’s brick abdominals. “Are you a great man now, Rafael?” Bradley asked, “Strong enough to dominate me? I’m almost invincible, you see.” Rafael once more acted on instinct and reached out with his elbow to knock Bradley down. He didn’t know why his body reacted this way- he didn’t want to hurt Bradley. This was of no matter as Bradley quickly bent backward and then pulled himself up with ease. “Use the force you were given.” Bradley commanded, now certainly as menacing as ever. Rafael lifted his hands up into the air to slam onto Bradley, whom did not dodge. He instead reacted by tossing his own two arms above himself to take the hit. Rafael groaned as the force vibrated through both of them. Their forearms acted like blades; tough as steel. Rafael pressed down as hard as possible, feeling Bradley weaken. Bradley’s hands slipped to the sides as he moved out of the way. He opened his palms and thrust both arms straight at Rafael’s midsection. Almost as if time slowed down, the shockwave of force from Bradley’s shoulders exploded into and through his hands. They sent Rafael past the bed and on the floor. Bradley slowly walked around. “You need to be stronger, Rafael.” He said, lifting his foot above Rafael, preparing to slam into him. Rafael felt a tinge of fear as he saw the massive quad tightening and getting ready to crush him. As Bradley slammed his leg into the ground (so hard, the wooden floor shattered into the base under), Rafael quickly knocked him down with a swoop of his own leg. It was difficult hitting him, as they were both dense like metal. Even if he himself was this dense, the shock would cause pain. Bradley looked at him from the ground and finally smiled once more. He slowly crawled back to Rafael and whispered something that Rafael could not understand. They then kissed. Rafael woke up. He held his head. He looked around and saw the bed empty, aside from himself. He looked around and saw that the room was normal. No cracked floor. No mist. He crawled out of bed, as if dizzy from a night of alcohol. His eyes went to the mirror and saw no difference in his body. Just a dream. Then he saw it. He looked at his abdomen. It was tighter than the night before. He grew excited and flexed- just like Bradley had made him in the dream. His arms didn’t look much bigger, but they certainly had gained mass. Rafael couldn’t believe it and almost jumped with excitement. He looked at every corner of his body and saw a little progress everywhere. A single work out with Bradley had helped him so much. He thought it was impossible. And then Bradley was on his mind. He was so different and strange. Now he grew nervous, thinking about his obviously sexual needs for a man like Bradley. What was going on? Rafael sat down on his bed and tried to examine his situation. Eventually he got up and went on with his day, happy he had improved so much by making friends with someone. Bradley sat in his kitchen. He drank his coffee and rubbed his forehead. It was early in the morning. Xaekus had long finished his duties and must have grown tired of trying to see into his master’s affairs. Brad sneezed as the smell of sage and lavender blew out of the room. The curtains flailed slowly in the morning winds of the kitchen windows. “Why didn’t you just do it altogether?” Alice asked him from behind the counter. “Because he has a great deal of self-integrity. If I give it all to him now, he’d lose his respect for hard work. That’s one of his most amazing qualities.” Bradley said before sipping his coffee. “Did you call him amazing?” Alice giggled. “Did I say ‘amazing’? I meant to say ‘interesting’. It’s one of his more respectable qualities.” Bradley said. “Oh, I can definitely see him in your stars soon!” Alice said, walking out the kitchen door. She knocked over a file cabinet, not to anger Bradley, but to prod Xaekus. “I certainly hope not.” Bradley said, staring blankly at the dancing blue curtains. END TALE II Ending Author Note: I do apologize if there's not much sensuality in this story. I wanted to flesh out some more plot points in my series. I might add more to this story, but I doubt it. I have so many ideas for other tales that will span out to other characters (like a solo for Xak, he seemed popular in LM #1. Thank you once again for reading my work and giving me feedback.

Have you read THE COMPOUND?....you will find into old archive page 179...it's aa amazing story, but never have a ending or a continue...only 2 cap......any one like to continue? PART 1 http://archive.muscle-growth.org/threads/20646-p1.html PART 2 http://archive.muscle-growth.org/threads/20665-p1.html