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  1. EBFs and SIZE FREAKS BY LORUS (formerly JP71) Haven’t written in years. Thought I was done with this. Deleted every other story I wrote. But then this happened. If I get enough positive feedback, I’ll do another chapter. Enjoy. Lee loved working at Aldersons Supermarket. Although the pay wasn't as much as he'd gotten from his previous employer, it had its perks. He didn't have to get two buses there and back, as the supermarket was just a ten minute walk from his flat. The staff were fun to be around, and his boss Eugene was extremely nice to his staff, especially to Lee, as they were both openly gay and sometimes had drinks after work at a popular gay bar called Shirtlifters. But the best perk of all came from the fact that Aldersons was across the street from Gridiron Gym. It was a hard-core gym for genetically super-gifted bodybuilders. Lee was 20 years old but puberty had declined to give him much meat on his bones. He had a lanky, slim build, weighing just 135 pounds despite his six feet of height. But this never bothered him, as he was very good looking, even with glasses, and had no problem hooking up with other twinks. Lee had obsessed over huge muscle-men since early adolescence, when thumbing through bodybuilding magazines, many of which were now ruined by cum-sodden fingers and lots of drool. When he got a computer for his 16th birthday, the internet satisfied his muscle lust to a greater degree. He tried bodybuilding himself when he got a gym membership, but he lacked the discipline necessary to make it habitual. But he liked swimming and cycling, and this way he kept fit but very slender. He wished he had a bodybuilder for a boyfriend, and a fair few bodybuilders were regulars at the supermarket, which, naturally, stocked bodybuilding supplements and even some clothing for working out. To Lee's dismay the bodybuilders using Gridiron Gym all seemed straight, and most of them would be seen getting regular groceries with their girlfriends or wives and kids. Still, you had to be at least 280 pounds to get a membership there. As a result the bodybuilders shopping at Aldersons were very big indeed, so Lee got to at least commit them to memory for wanking about them later on when he was at home. An obsession with huge bodybuilders wasn't the only fetish of Lee's. His other fetish was for trashed denim jeans. He especially loved jeans that had exposed button-flies down the front, but not the women's kind which were so common. He loved to see men wearing them. But they were very uncommon with guys, so Lee and his boss Eugene came up with a plan to change that. Some of the mens work pants as the standard uniform at Aldersons came with an exposed button-fly front, but it was optional. Lee and Eugene wore them all the time, but a new recruit that Lee was given to train in on the register also opted for the exposed button-fly version of the dark navy work pants. Sam was extremely cute, blonde haired, and with blue eyes and dimples. He had envious olive skin and the cutest smile. He was a little overweight at just five feet six inches tall, but the chubbiness suited him, and within a week Lee and Sam were good friends. It was hard to gauge if Sam was gay, although his liking for the same pants that Lee was into suggested he might swing that way. One sunny day in June was a dream come true for Lee Fordham. His shift was about to end and the bodybuilders coming to shop at the supermarket were wearing very little, taking advantage of the warm weather to show-off as much of their musculature as possible, and Lee had had a boner for most of the day, inhaling their sweaty muscle-musk and swooning as the bigger bodybuilders struggled to fit through the checkout aisles, which Eugene had been meaning to get widened to make his burlier customers more comfortable with the shopping experience Aldersons had to offer. Lee asked another staff member, Paul, to watch his register while he went to the toilet. He needed a leak, but also to adjust his dick inside his underwear because he was particularly horny for muscle today, and so it was hard to keep his boner from jumping to attention at every other moment. When he came back onto the shop floor his eyes widened in sheer disbelief at the glorious sight that affronted his senses. This was his first encounter with Umberto. He was the biggest bodybuilder Lee had ever seen. But even more of a shock to Lee was the first thing this gigantic muscle-god said to him: "Hey there, sexy guy. I really like those pants you're wearing. I like the way the buttons are exposed. Where can I get a pair of those for myself?" Lee's two fetishes were stimulated at the same time. He couldn't believe it. Time seemed to stand still for Lee, now, allowing him to take in every inch of the bodybuilder, who, from this moment onward would change Lee’s life for the better. At about six feet five inches tall he had a good five inches on Lee. He was stunningly handsome, added further to by the hint of Italian in his accent. Size wise, he was super-massive, enormous beyond all sane reasoning. He had to be at least five hundred pounds in weight and every part of him was bursting with hard, sinewy and heavily veined muscle all packed in by paper thin skin which was naturally tinted a golden bronze. His hair was in a topknot style, but shaved tightly at the sides and back. His eyes were beautiful brown orbs set perfectly on either side of a Romanesque nose, with somewhat high cheekbones, chiselled square jawline with the manliest designer stubble Lee had ever seen. His lips looked perfect for sucking cocks. He smiled cockily at Lee and his teeth were scintillatingly white. He had a sparkle in his eyes as he winked suggestively at Lee, and they seemed excited to see the four shiny metal buttons on Lee’s pants glinting in the rays of the sunlight pouring in through the glass store front. Umberto’s neck was bull thick and his traps stretched like Alpine mountain ranges on either side of his neck. They tapered down to hugely swollen deltoids that exploded outward in all directions, and with massive ball biceps that looked set to burst even unflexed. He wore as a garment (if it could be called such) a gauzy sleeveless plaid shirt, the sleeves looking like at some point he’d outgrown them and so tore them from the shirt to better show off his arms. It was chequered with blue, navy and white squares. He wore it completely unbuttoned, as there was no way buttons could meet button-holes on this shirt because his gargantuan ballooning pecs would never allow it. His nipples were completely pointing down, and almost invisible due to the huge shadows his pectorals cast over the top two rows of his cobbled eight-pack abdominals. They also appeared darker because he had such large dark brown areolas, and the nipples themselves both had gold nipple rings through them. Lee guessed the nipples to be bigger than the tops of his thumbs. He felt himself growing painfully erect again. Umberto seemed to like this and so he bounced and rippled his pecs to better entice Lee and fuel his muscle-lust. The pec mountains rippled and jostled against each other, bobbing up and down like a roiling sea. He could even flex the upper pecs and different striations independently, which took amazing muscle control. “You’d better be careful not to pop those buttons off your sexy pants, beautiful,” teased Umberto, and he fanned out his lats to their fullest width followed by rolling his abs around before sucking them in. This caused his shirt to part further making it seem like the sleeveless button-up shirt was little more of a stringer tank on the bodybuilding behemoth. He thinks I’m sexy, omfg, Lee thought. He could feel his underpants getting damp with precum. Below his taut waist (which had to be at least a third the width of his chest) Umberto wore denim cut-off jeans. They had slanted cuts to better emphasise his humongous thighs with bloated quadriceps and hamstrings, all beautifully cut and separated and covered in thick veins which bulged more and more as he wobbled his thighs and then snapped them into tight, rock hard muscle relief. The best thing about the cut-offs was not only did they make his legs look even more monstrous than they were, but at some point Umberto had taken a scissors to the jeans, not only to cut them into bodybuilder shorts, but he also removed the waistband, making them look sexier and smaller on him. This also showed more of his cum-gutters that led down to the top part of dark man-bush poking out over the top of the shorts. Lee was transfixed. He once wore a pair of exposed button-fly Levis to a gay bar, and also had removed the waistband to better customise the look and show the beginning of his pubic line when he’d take his shirt off to dance shirtless on the dance floor and hopefully cop off with another cutie who liked the skinny twink boys. So far Lee could tell that Umberto had some of the same clothing tastes as he did. Umberto was in no way modest. He had no problem flirting with guys that all stood around them in shock at his size and beauty. He did a lat spread which further caused his upper body to flex and swell, as if he was growing right before their astonished eyes. Paul was amazed at this display, and forgot to scan half the groceries on his till for an elderly lady who didn’t even notice she was in the presence of a giant bodybuilding muscle hunk. She just grumbled to herself and fumbled in her purse for money. Sam stood on the floor next to the fresh flowers and said nothing, but he was able to get a better look at Umberto from behind. It was simply impossible not to stare at the biggest, most muscular man they’d ever seen. A male shopper, who lived in the same flat complex as Lee, and whose name was Keith, started to drool over Umberto. He was behind the old lady at Paul’s till and he should have been unloading his groceries onto the conveyor, but he was mesmerised by the size of the bodybuilding bodybuilder. He kept mouthing it on his lips: “Bodybuilding, bodybuilder, bodybuilt because he’s a bodybuilder that bodybuilds!” Over and over he chanted this mantra, and Keith, who was in his mid-20s or so, had a bit of muscle on him from playing rugby, but he also had a fair bit of fat on his frame hiding any definition that his muscle had beneath. But he was one of these cocky types who even though they no longer played sports as well as in their younger years, still kept a certain amount of muscle mass. He dressed as if he was a bodybuilder, unashamed of the fact that his once meaty pecs now looked more like man-boobs than pectorals. His arms were doughier, but still muscled, and he wore a cutaway tee-shirt that left just a thin panel of fabric between his tits so that most of his torso front and back was on show. He had a bit of a gut on him but he could still suck it in. He had blue eyes and sandy-gingerish hair, and freckles which lent him a more youthful look. At six foot two inches tall he was quite broad shouldered in that “I lift weights but not as much as I should” way. Were he to spend a couple of months hitting the weights, he’d easily get rid of the thirty-five pounds of fat he was carrying. He also wore denim jeans, but cut off just above the knee. He had wide hips that actually looked good on him. Back to Umberto’s cut-offs. Lee could see that the panel covering the button-fly was pushed away from the buttons by the sheer mass of cock and ball meat he had pushing it out. He was obviously hung like a horse, bigger even, Lee guessed. Unashamedly Umberto enjoyed his cocky display of hyper-masculinity. He cranked out a massive most-muscular, laughing and growling for fun. His traps trebled their mass and his pectorals bunched together creating a cleavage that could hide and crush a rolling pin. Biceps threatened to burst out of their skin and went to war for space against his forearms. Threads began to snap apart across Umberto’s shirt at the back as the seams clung on for dear life. Even though unbuttoned, there was way too much mass for the fabric to cope with. Umberto didn’t care as his muscles burst into diamond-hard relief as veins gorged on blood and thickened all over his body. “Reckon I’ll be popping my own buttons real soon,” he cockily suggested with a wink and smug grin. He nodded his brand of self-assured alpha-male conceit at the males in proximity. He owned the moment as much as he could own them all if he so desired. “I’m Umberto, sexy man,” began the bodybuilder, this time back to making his pectoral masses heave and bulge to a massive degree. Then: “You never answered my question. About your exposed button-fly pants. This huge bodybuilding god wants a pair for himself, sexy man.” “Ughh…um…I… I’m Lee,” was all Lee could manage to stammer, his mouth suddenly parchment dry. Inside in the manager’s office, Eugene had been watching the spectacle unfold (and bulge hugely) on the CCTV monitors. They were constantly recording in HD colour and full audio, so he made damn sure he’d get all this onto a memory stick for further “examination” later at home in front of his PC with his jocks down around his ankles. He’d been listening, too. Omg, he thought, this giant wants to join the EBF club. “EBF” was short for exposed button-fly. But we don’t have pants to fit him in stock. Unless… Eugene gingerly came out of the office holding a pair of scissors and bashfully handed them to Lee, gesturing to Umberto’s bulging crotch with a nod of his head and then back at Lee. Lee knew what to do. “Er…,” he licked his lips, trying to moisten his mouth to speak. “I cuh-could customise your shorts if you like, Um… Umberto. Make the buttons visible. Only take a sec.” Lee had no idea if Umberto would be satisfied with that. Umberto stopped bouncing his pecs and stuck his thumbs into the top of his cut-offs where a waistband had once been. “Sure, that sounds great. I’ll be even fuckin’ sexier after you make my shorts even hotter. Careful though, I’m really sensitive in the crotch area. You never know what’ll happen if your hand slips while using the scissors,” Umberto teased, suggesting Lee perform the “delicate fashion surgery” while he still wore the shorts. “Um, maybe you should take them off, just to be on the safe side,” said Lee, relieved that he could speak again after moisture returned to his mouth. Elsewhere more moisture was gathering in his underpants as his dick oozed precum. A dark stain became more evident down the front of his EBFs. “Good idea. I should go somewhere to change. Don’t want grandma here to get a fright,” said Umberto, briefly tipping his head towards the oblivious old lady still fumbling in her purse. Eugene said they could use his office, which, thankfully, also had a camera, so he could have it all recorded. Eugene put in the door code and gestured for the muscle giant to go in. Umberto was almost level with the top of the door frame, his topknot flattened as he twisted and grunted his way through a doorway not designed for enormous bodybuilders. “Come along, sexy Lee, make my shorts look like your sexy, oh so sexy pants, little stud.” Umberto was full of compliments for the bespectacled hot twink. Since he was new in town, he’d resolve to make Aldersons his place to shop. It was by now obvious he had a thing for slim young twinks in exposed button-fly pants. Eugene took over on the till, but his mind was elsewhere and the customers he served got some bargains in their shopping as he forgot to scan every other item. Once in the manager’s office Umberto’s mood kicked up a notch. He tore the shirt off his bulbous mega-muscled upper body and tossed it at Lee. “Souvenir for ya. You can keep it, sexy Lee. I workout all the time in that shirt, and it’s never washed. My stink is all over it. Here, have a deep sniff of my muscle-sweat stink.” Lee’s dick was rock hard, now. Fully erect it could reach ten inches. Skinny twinks were often blessed with disproportionately large penises, lucky them. But when he allowed himself to inhale Umberto’s pungent bodybuilder whiff, it made him nearly jizz his pants. A bigger circle of dampness now surrounded the four buttons on his fly. Umberto puffed himself up to his biggest size and hit pose after pose, each one squeezing more and more blood through his super-highway of veins, so his muscles could gorge and grow frenziedly with more size and definition. “I had the best workout today, sexy lanky Lee. Benched 1000 pounds for 8 sets of 12 reps. The other muscle-fucks over there almost came when they saw me break by own record for the fifth time straight. Awwww… I feel fucking huge today.” Umberto hit a double biceps pose. His 33 inch biceps crunched up another few inches till his knuckles were almost trekking across their peaks. It was astonishing to think that Lee, being so slender, only had a 27 and a half inch waist. His fucking waist was smaller than Umberto’s titanic biceps. How big was his chest? OMG, it had to be at least 80 inches, maybe more. “Right, get to work on my cut-offs here, and then we can have some fun. I noticed your boss has a bottle of hand lotion on his desk. He must get up to all sorts in here watching his cute male staff at work through the monitors.” In actual fact this was exactly what Eugene often got up to when he should have been doing product orders or staff rosters. And he often liked to wank at the bodybuilders that came in to do their shopping. Umberto was enormous. He had that sexy waddle to his walk, when bodybuilders grow their legs so big that the thighs hit against one another for space, and not only that, the huge junk afforded to him by winning the genetic lottery was forced more outwards from his body. His pectoral shelf of meaty slabs stuck out so far from his upper torso that it was impossible for him to see below them unless he bent forwards, but even that was not always ideal for performing certain tasks. He would always button up his pants in front of a mirror, always making sure never to miss a button. He hated when guys would miss buttons, especially if they were drunk at bars. Lee hated that as well. And being a wearer exclusively of exposed button-fly jeans and pants, he always made sure to fasten his buttons carefully, given they were on show for all to see. Umberto’s biceps and forearms fought a war for space as he tried to unbutton his cut-offs. He was so pumped from his workout, and he knew he was bigger now than he had been before hitting Gridiron earlier. “Oh dear, I’m so fucking huge, getting undressed is becoming a chore for me. Here, Lee, unbutton my shorts for me. Careful now, something huge might spring up and slap you in the face! Hah!” Lee painfully fought the urge to cum right there and then. He walked over to the giant (oh fuck he smelled even better than his shirt). But there was a problem. Umberto’s pecs were so huge (even more so when flexed) that Lee had to get beneath them to unbutton the behemoth’s cut-offs. “Heh heh, sorry my balloons are taking up so much room. I can barely see my dick when I’m peeing. But hey, you gotta make adjustments to your life’s route when you choose the bodybuilding journey. How’s it going down there with the denim?” “Two buttons open so far, Umberto.” Lee tried not to breathe in the spunky musk smell wafting up at him from Umberto’s stinky dark man-bush. Fuck did he even take a shower after his workout? And he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Lee was kind of disappointed, as he’d hoped to see Umberto in a skimpy poser or thong of some kind. The beginning of a mammoth cock appeared as Lee worked on Umberto’s buttons. “Kinda tickles down there, Lee. Go easy on Junior. He gets ‘very’ restless a lot. Umberto made a massive lat spread there and then, simply because he could, heaving his bodybuilder bosoms up higher, the nipples warping from the downward position to almost dead-centre of his fully flexed and insanely striated balloons. “There you have enough room to work with now. I can keep these fuckers flexed like this for as long as I like. Wait, let me grunt out some more, and get the testosterone surging right to my pec-meats. Watch these fuckers grow more. MORE!!!! MOAAAAR!!! GRRRRRRRRRRRRR!” Umberto flexed his upper body more savagely now, ballooning impossibly larger. “Gotta get this chest past a hundred. GOTTA GET BIGGER!” Lee was stunned. He couldn’t move a muscle of his own except to gaze up in awe at possibly the biggest bodybuilder ever to do bodybuilding and look like he was getting bigger by the second. That was impossible, right? Wasn’t it? Umberto became more arrogant, now demanding what he wanted from Lee. “Get those shorts off me, boy. I want EBFs like yours. NOW!!!!” Lee’s lust made all this seem coated in a dreamy haze. He could hear his heart beating in his head. His senses began to melt, then congeal into a soupy puddle. But the bodybuilder had set him a task, therefore he must finish it. Umberto’s thighs were 48 inches of solid muscle, and so getting the shorts off was like rolling on a condom, in reverse. Lee had to force them past his thighs, which took some effort. By now Umberto's dick was out, not quite hard, but not quite flaccid. Lee was amazed to see that it had to be easily over a foot long, maybe more. It had twice the amount of veins on it as average penises, and the mushroom head was big, purple and shiny, and easily four times the average size. A ropy string of precum began to extend downward to the floor from its delicious slit. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to ride a monster cock of that magnitude, although he’d seen several twinks on porn sites fooling around with fake dicks even bigger than Umberto’s, resulting in those horrid prolapsed or herniated rectums that some sick fuckers were into. When Lee finally got the shorts down to his ankles, the behemoth relaxed his flexing and stepped out of the shorts. Lee could finally get to work with the scissors. “Make sure you do a good job on them, Lee. I ruined many pairs customising them in the past. Of course, I was smaller back then. A LOT smaller,” Umberto boasted. “Er… I’m pretty good at this, Umberto. I cut many of my own pairs when I couldn’t buy them off the rack,” said Lee, sitting at Eugene’s desk so he could work on the shorts. “Yeah, they’re hard to find, especially to fit my hulking frame. Clothes and me usually part company way too soon. But that’s the price you pay for bodybuilding.” Umberto bounced his pecs and then allowed some precum to pool in his callused palm. He licked it for no apparent reason but to get off on his own freaky size. Lee worked with his back to the bodybuilder so he could concentrate better. He also refrained from looking at the monitors, one of which was showing the giant making lots of bodybuilding poses. But at least his grunting and moans of self-indulgent pleasure wasn’t too much of a distraction. Lee’s hands trembled slightly due to extreme muscle-lust. The smell of muscle-man stink hung heavily in the musty air of the office. There was an air conditioner on the wall but it hadn’t worked in ages. Oh Eugene, lusting after men on the monitors and forgetting to take care of Alderson’s maintenance. Naughty Eugene. He held his breath as he made the scissor blades connect with the denim. He just about managed to cut away the panel covering the fly buttons of the Levis 501s. They were a bit faded, well worn in, and smelly as fuck. He saw that they might be counterfeits, as there was a “CM” on the back label below the waist and leg measurements, which Lee knew to mean “custom made”. It made sense. Umberto’s upper leg to waist ratio – not to mention his massively developed glutes – meant that shopping for regular Levis was impossible. The little red tag on the back pocket also seemed slightly larger than usual. But fuck it, they still looked hot. After a short time, Lee was done cutting. He was pleased with the result. The inner panel through which the button-holes were punched was a couple of shades darker than the now removed front panel. This was because they were less faded due to being protected from direct sunlight, so this effect made the buttons stand out more. Hey, this was one of Lee’s fetishes (tame compared to the absolute filth some people got off to), so he was an expert when it came to jeans customisation. He swivelled around in Eugene’s chair and nervously held up the now sexier shorts for Umberto to inspect. “Hey, they look great. Bet they’ll look even better when I put ‘em back on, Lee. Thank you for doing this. You don’t mind helping me back on with my new EBFs?” “Sure, but I’m being honest with you, Umberto. I haven’t had a wank since yesterday. My balls are gonna explode if I don’t do something about it,” said Lee in earnest. He stooped to allow the bodybuilder to step back into the shorts. “Don’t worry, sexy Lee. Just do this one thing for huge bodybuilder Umberto Morelli, and I’ll award you and help you take care of your little problem, although judging by how soaked the front of your EBFs are, you must have quite the equipment packed away so Umberto can’t see it.” He made a playful sad clown face. Lee thought it was really hot whenever Umberto referred to himself in the third person, like he was objectifying himself as a big, dumb hunk of muscle. It was much harder getting the shorts back up past Umberto’s redwoods for thighs, but he finally managed it. Now it was time to stuff back in Umberto’s generous trouser snake and orange-sized balls. It suddenly occurred to him that these custom-made shorts (originally full-length blue jeans) had five buttons on the fly, which meant that had the waistband not been removed, there would have been six vertical shiny metal buttons. It made sense. The extra button would be necessary to fasten over a larger crotch size. They looked so good. One by one Lee carefully buttoned up the EBFs, but Umberto’s junk made the crotch front strain so that the buttons were put under pressure, same as the gaps that can appear between the shirt buttons of a strained dress shirt on a fat or muscular man whose lifestyles made them quickly outgrow shirts. It took plenty of effort on Lee’s part, and by the time he was finished he was somewhat depleted of stamina. At least less stamina helped to stem the flow of his impending jizz torrent and delay it slightly. “All done, Umberto,” Lee panted and slumped back into Eugene’s office chair. “Mmmm, they feel a little tighter this time. You sure you didn’t take them in a little?” Umberto was joking, of course. He knew that all Lee did was free the button-fly from beneath its denim concealment. The spicy Italian flexed and rolled his sequoia thighs, hammering out definition and hardness that would make the Hulk faint with jealousy. Unseen by Lee, he flexed his huge glutes around at his arsehole, forcing the button-fly to strain even further. Lee gasped as tufts of the bodybuilder’s pubic forest began to poke through the gaps forced to appear between the buttons. The shorts seemed doomed to come apart, and explosively so. “Nuh-no, sir,” answered Lee, his stammer having returned. “Hmm, maybe the lack of decent air in this office is forcing the denim to shrink, or something,” Umberto offered in the way of a jest. He could feel himself getting bigger and bigger. He loved it. It was his ultimate obsession, to force his muscles to grow bigger, harder, and stronger than ever before in front of a sexy skinny twink set to blow his load at any moment. Umberto brought his hands up behind his head and locked his calloused fingers together (the ones you only get from lifting very heavy weights and wearing out too many lifting gloves). He flexed for all he was worth (which was a hell of a lot), flaring out his lats to their engorged fullest. He tightened up his abs and rolled his thigh muscles faster and harder, taking it in turns to snap the muscles of each leg hard and bulging, which forced his shorts to strain further as his genitals got hungry for some growth of their own. “I’m so fuckin’ huge, Lee. I can scarcely believe it. Look at the fuckin’ size of me. Tell me how huge I am, sexy little man!” Umberto was so turned on by his own masculine fervency. He popped a huge double biceps and then turned sideways to explode into a ridiculously huge side chest pose. His muscle tits roared frenziedly with size, almost bursting like beach balls, and the veins on his forearms flared hot, thick and dark over papery golden bronze skin. “You… are the… biggest, most muscular god of a man… gasp… I’ve ever seen,” Lee stated through a voice heavy with rasping muscle lust. “That’s true, alright. In fact, in reality, I’m not the biggest. Not yet anyway. But I’ll explain all that in due course,” said the bodybuilder who brought down his hands to dig his thumbs into his sides in order to inflate up to a monstrous lat spread. His delta wings swelled and widened. His pectoral masses heaved and burst upwards and outwards with size and power; the upper pecs alone began to constrict his airflow and brush against his granite chin, forcing him to lean his head backwards to better show off the massive size he was capable of displaying. “Hmm, but I really want to check out for myself the glorious sight of me wearing my cut-away EBF slut shorts, only there are no mirrors in here. What’s a massive bodybuilder to do, gorgeous Lee?” Umberto was such a tease, but Lee didn’t want it to stop, not ever. Moaning with lust, his scant chest heaving under his trim work polo shirt, Lee gestured to another door to Eugene’s office. It led to the rear of the supermarket and to a corridor that connected to several rooms, amongst them the staff toilets, changing rooms, plus a showering facility and staff canteen. At the end of the corridor were a set of double doors that led out back to where stock was stored and deliveries taken in. Other double doors connected to the store’s front of house through which staff could move fresh stock on pallets and trolleys for restocking of the shelves; all typical supermarket stuff. “The men’s changing room has a mirror, maybe even wide enough to show you in your entirety. Through there, and second door on the right,” Lee gestured. “Hmm, that may do. But you’ll have to come with me. I need you to witness how I react to seeing me wearing my first pair of EBFs. Can’t do this without a sexy witness to make the event official,” Umberto declared, sealing the deal with a bounce of his floppy, huge pectorals, which he deftly forced to snap taut and hard as bricks. Umberto squeezed his bulk through the door to the back corridor, Lee obediently following. “Um… bring that lotion with you, sexy Lee. We’re definitely gonna need it.” He sealed the remark with another deliciously sexy wink. The doors to the changing rooms (the other one being for female staff, although only three girls currently worked at Alderson’s) were not as wide as the previous doors Umberto had to stoop and squeeze through. This time he made sure his body was pumped up to its fullest as he tried to squeeze through. “Hmm, this won’t do. Good job you brought that lotion, Lee. You’re gonna have to lotion me up to help me squeeze all this muscled manliness through your inferior little changing room door,” said Umberto assuredly. “Oh fuck, Umberto, your sexy little Lee is gonna come very very soon,” Lee said, groaning as his lust gained further power over him. He noticed that he was becoming a little more daring with the choice of words he used to talk to the bodybuilder. “Don’t be shy, my sexy, and quite potential boyfriend-in-waiting. Lube me up so I can revel at the sight of my sexy exposed button-fly denim cut-offs.” Umberto’s voice had deepened to a sexy husky tone, and the slight Italian accent lent it a crisp accentuation that only added to his overall sexiness. His “boyfriend-in-waiting”. Had Lee heard him correctly, or was it just wishful thinking playing tricks on the twink’s hearing? “Okay, just a little bit longer. The right time for you to come is fast approaching. Hang in there a little. But before you unscrew the cap from the lotion bottle, I wanna sniff something to further heighten my own lust, which is now not only just self-adoring muscle lust, but also a lust for something else,” said Umberto, extending his reach as if to engulf Lee with his size and strength. Lee somehow knew what Umberto wanted to do. He completely gave in; he was powerless to resist. He let himself get picked up by Umberto, which the bodybuilder did all too easily. “Fuck, you feel weightless to me,” said Umberto after lifting Lee several feet off the floor. He raised him up so that his crotch was level with the most handsome face Lee had ever seen. Nay, not handsome… Umberto was beautiful beyond sane reasoning. The giant bodybuilder muscle-god pressed his nose and mouth to Lee’s crotch. He inhaled slowly and deeply, enjoying the aroma and wetness of Lee’s precum-sodden work pants. “Yum… you smell fantastic down there, sexy Lee,” said Umberto before running his tongue up and down Lee’s crotch area, liking the taste of the precum and the metallic aftertaste left from the buttons on his fly. He wanted to hold him tight and hug him forever, but there was still work to be done. In order to get to the mirror in the changing room, he had to fit through the door. The lotion was a vital tool that would help make that happen. How did I last this long, thought Lee as he squeezed a good handful of lotion into his palm. He’d lost track of the normal passage of time ever since first laying eyes on Umberto Morelli. It could have been minutes that passed, or hours; he just didn’t know one from the other. Usually he’d have jizzed himself well before now, and that wasn’t even in the presence of a muscle-god, just regular bodybuilders or porn stuff on the internet. He’d fucked plenty of guys since exploding onto the gay scene a couple years previously, and he’d even gone through a premature ejaculatory phase, however, that changed as he learned to fuck properly and make it as pleasurable as possible for both giver and receiver. It seemed as though his libido had developed a mind of its own and was helping Lee to keep itself holding on as long as possible so as not to ruin a single moment of an incredible situation that continued to intensify and drive his lust factor through the roof. “Oh I see your boss likes the good stuff,” Umberto commented, noticing the lotion was one of the more expensive brands. He beamed a broad grin and then turned around so his back was facing towards Lee. “Start by lotioning up my back, sexy boyfriend,” Umberto urged cheekily. Lee was stunned. He said ‘boyfriend’ this time, without the ‘in-waiting’ part. Lee began to worry this was some bizarre dream he was having. He’d passed out right at the till once before because he’d been late for his shift that morning and so had had to skip breakfast. Maybe the same thing had happened this time. Had he forgotten to eat today? His brain melted and turned to runny gloop which didn’t help. But it felt too real – far too stimulating – to be a dream. This had to be real. Umberto appeared to be into Lee as much as Lee was into him. Umberto was everything Lee could have ever dreamed of and lusted for. But was this as far as it would go? Could there be anything beyond this incredible encounter with a muscle-god? Lee made sure his hands and fingers were well-coated with the moisturising lotion. Umberto thought it fun to stand in front of the changing room door and fan out his back to its widest by doing a rear lat-spread, showing how the door was almost half a foot narrower on each side than his back and shoulders. Lee gasped, feeling himself go all wobbly. Still, he must soldier on. Umberto was adamant that Lee carry out his duty to its fullest. “Wow this door is ridiculously narrow, Lee my man. See how I’ve widened my back to make it easier for you to rub on the lotion? Wouldn’t want your delightful digits to get eaten up by the deep cuts between my back muscles. I could hide loose change in those muscle gullies. Heh!” Lee tentatively touched Umberto’s skin, starting at the lower back region. His waist-to-shoulder ratio was insane. Most men opted for a V-taper and so worked out to achieve that. But if Umberto’s taper were to be represented by a letter of the alphabet, it would be a very big uppercase ‘V’ in bold, with three ‘W’s side by side on top. Something like that anyway. Lee was aghast at how smooth, but hard the skin felt, as the muscles were expanded to their fullest. He gasped with a mixture of lust and anxiety as he rubbed in the lotion and quickly relaxed and began to enjoy the sensation of working his lotioned hands up and across the massive delta of Umberto’s back. “Wow, that feels so good, Lee. Keep going. Get more on there. I need to be really slippery with lotion so’s I can get through this fucking door. I can’t wait to see what I look like in my very much improved bodybuilder slut shorts.” Umberto was nothing but playfully and lustily enthusiastic. He was enjoying this experience as much as Lee was. Lee was silent now, concentrating on the task, trying his best to commit every muscle bump and valley to memory, in case he never saw Umberto again after this encounter. This memory would be deposited in his ‘wank bank’ forever after, and hopefully the ruined shirt Umberto had given him as a gift would never lose its muscle man-stink. Lee ran out of lotion half way up the spread of Umberto’s muscle wings, and so he had to squirt another good glob of it into his palm. He lubed his palms up again and returned to exploring the ever-moistening expanse of Umberto’s muscular landscape stretched before him. This time the lotion bottle made that sound when there is more air than lotion coming out of the nozzle. “Jeez, sexy Lee, I hope there’s enough lotion in that bottle. You still need to lube up my shoulders, beachball pectorals, arms and maybe even my legs, if I stand a chance of seeing myself in that mirror. I really can’t wait to look at myself properly since my last workout. I know I’m bigger than I was this morning. I need to see it or I’ll get upset. And you wouldn’t like to see Umberto get upset.” Umberto changed his pose to a rear double biceps. His mountainous arms bunched up and became rock hard boulders, thick veins cracking up through the skin the more he flexed. His rear traps and other back muscles bunched together and bulged to extremes as Lee worked more lotion into them. His palms quickly ran dry of the lotion and it was time for another squirt. There was only one squirt left. “Muh-maybe enough for your shoulders… and pecs, I think,” Lee once again stammered. “Shit, that may not be enough. Look at the fucking size of my shoulders, their sheer width even bones me up more than ever. And my pectorals are fucking gigantic.” Once again turning to face the incredibly fortunate twink, Umberto expertly made his muscle-tits bounce and roll and crack one striation after another across their corpulent masses. His pectorals were actually disproportionately large compared with the rest of his muscles. Umberto liked it that way, having a balloon chest so busty, it was getting harder and harder to see over them. When he’d be lying on the bench, pressing 1000 pounds of weight over and over, his entire field of vision would be taken up by super-swollen biceps pressing against the size of his pecs. In turn, this combined with the superior weight they displaced, making them bulge obscenely upward and forming a muscle cleavage that a grown man could lose a hand and wrist in, possibly half his forearm too. But he still wasn’t satisfied with the size of his pecs, or his overall size. “Lube up my big pecs next, sexy boy,” Umberto commanded, his tone guttural and his breath heavy, “I’ll bounce them like fucking crazy while you’re doing it.” Lee moaned lustily as he worked the cream into the heaving bodybuilder-bosoms. They felt so heavy as his fingers lingered around the swollen under-swells of his lower pectorals. He felt their heft in his hands and they had to weigh at least forty pounds apiece, maybe more. Umberto heaved and squeezed them together, forcing them to bulge hugely, inviting Lee to explore the canyon his busty pectorals formed as they were pressed together. “Work that cream into my cleavage, Lee, and then into the big dimples I can form on each side of my outer pectorals with minimal effort, just by lightly squeezing my biceps. I don’t even have to flex that much to dimple out my titan-tits.” Sure enough a deep delicious dimple formed on each side of Umberto’s pecs, big enough for Lee’s fists to become embedded in. More pec squeezing enticed Lee’s fingers to sensuously scurry his fingers across the massive globes, until finally he could bury his lotion-smeared digits deep into Umberto’s canyon cleavage. The cleavage hungrily devoured the lotion along with Lee’s fingers and even part of the hands themselves. Lee gasped further, his forehead beaded with sweat, and his dick pushing out his button-fly pants even further. He was close to blowing his wad. But still, Umberto demanded he explore further. “My pecs can swell even more if you play with my monster nips, Lee. Go on, tickle and twist them. Enjoy my nubs as much as they will enjoy you,” Umberto urged, throwing his head back in the throes of utter muscle bliss. He was obsessed with bodybuilding. He would never stop bodybuilding. He needed to bodybuild more and more, increasing in size and getting stronger, hotter, and way more beautiful than he currently was. And Lee would be his muse-cum-helper monkey, to put it into an amusing context. Lee got hold of the downward pointing nipples, each bigger than the tops of his thumbs. He started by inserting his fingers into each nipple ring and tugging them downward. The nubs felt so firm, so large and manly, and it took a bit of effort on Lee’s part to make them yield. The rings were quite sexy to interact with, but he wanted to give his full attention to the nipples proper. He removed his fingers from the rings so he could grasp the nipple flesh. He twisted them and played with them for a bit. Umberto gasped and moaned, loving every moment. He bounced the fuck out of his muscle boobs, working more and more blood and testosterone into them and causing a surge of both throughout his body. Both men had completely forgotten they were in the staff back area of a supermarket. This experience for both of them transcended reality, leaving behind the here and now. There was only timeless muscle-lust and the bliss it coerced into being. “Unnngh… so good, Lee. I love how you play with my nubs, and how you made my pectorals moist and glistening. More lotion, though… around my deltoids and upper arms. I need to get through that door now… NOW! I gotta see how I look in my exposed button-fly bodybuilder whore-denims before I fucking EXPLODE!!!! Grrrr!” The lotion was all but used up. Lee managed to get a little out onto his palm and did his best to smear as much as he could over the areas requested – nay, demanded – by Umberto. The melon-sized delts glistened less than satisfactorily as the lotion finally gave up its ghost. Lee began to panic. He needed to let some pressure out from his painfully tight boner crotch. He undid the waistband button and two of the fly buttons of his pants, and pushed his hand past the elastic of his boxer briefs in order to adjust his junk. It helped a little. How have I not come yet, he thought? Is it possible that Umberto exerted such a hold over him that he was capable of delaying Lee’s impending orgasm and explosion of jizz on a subliminal level? This chemistry between them had to be explored further. Umberto had fucked hundreds of men, mostly bodybuilders, and not one of them had had this much of an effect on his muscle arousal as that which Lee was capable of making him feel. A super skinny twink with glasses, and he was driving Umberto crazy with muscle lust, urging him to swell bigger and bigger than his muscles had swelled before. “I could run out to the shop floor and grab some more lotion from the shelf, if you like, buh… but I don’t think I’ll last long enough to get out there. My erection is now at full mast, Umberto. I’m packing ten inches of twink meat down there, and besides, I had to undo some of my buttons. Can’t do them back up again, not yet anyway,” Lee explained in honesty. “There’s no time for that, boyfriend,” Umberto growled. He said that word again. This was their first encounter and already he was calling him ‘boyfriend’. He continued: “I’ll just have to improvise. Grrrrrrr”. Umberto had to stoop and turn sideways to attempt to get through the door. His lotioned pecs and back created a sideways girth wider than the door by almost a foot. He was sweaty now, so at least the sweat was mixing with the lotion and helping him lube up further. But it still wasn’t enough to get through the door and to the precious mirror beyond. “Right. Fuck this!!!” Somehow he managed to squeeze partway through the door, his knees bent to lower his height somewhat. Then he attempted a half-twist of his body to force himself through further. He began to flex. Then he flexed some more. Then he flexed huger and huger. Lee heard the sound of splintering wood. Some plaster became dislodged from around the doorframe. Slowly but surely, Umberto was transforming the dimensions of the door frame to accommodate his gigantic muscle mass. The door itself, which had been opened inwards, immediately broke away from its hinges and flew across the changing room to strike a row of lockers at the back of the room. This gave Umberto a couple more inches to work with. The door frame buckled further. Wood continued to crack and split along with masonry becoming loose around the door frame. “Nearly there. Shoulders almost through!” He had now widened the door sufficiently to stand face to face with Lee, each mighty shoulder pushing the door frame out further on either side. Still with his head bowed forward and his knees half-bent, Umberto proceeded to bring himself up to full height. The backs of his traps bore the full force of mutilating the crossbeam that formed the horizontal top of the door frame. He applied more and more force, deforming the door further as he pushed upwards and outwards simultaneously. Was this a load-bearing wall? Lee was no architect, but Umberto’s incredible display of power made him not care if the entire store came down around them. He had all the buttons of his pants open, now, so it made it slightly easier for him to further resist the urge to blow his wad. The first three inches of his above average dick poked out of the top of his boxer briefs. No point hiding it now. “Wow, I look forward to getting to know your cock, Lee sexy man,” drooled Umberto as he flexed to his full height and titanic width. The door frame came completely away from the wall around it, shattering into splinters, which, fortunately, didn't find a home anywhere near Lee’s delicate skin. Still, Lee found himself having to run to a safe distance further down the corridor as Umberto finished performing such a superhuman feat of strength, The ceiling hadn’t collapsed, so that was something to be thankful for, but the damage was significant. Eugene would not be pleased, but with everything getting recorded by his CCTV, he’d have wank material to last him the rest of his life. A little structural damage could be dealt with easily enough. “There, now THAT’s a door befitting a bodybuilder my size. Fuck the prick who decided to create a door for hobbits,” Umberto boasted, pleased with his handiwork. Once through the door and into the changing room, Umberto pumped up to his full height and width, flaring his lats and bouncing his pectoral mountains simultaneously. He was a bit disappointed when he saw the mirror. “That’s a bit shit. Okay, so it’s a full length mirror, but it’s only two feet wide. I’m three times that wide, maybe. But it’ll have to do.” Umberto relaxed his posing and stood as far back from the mirror as the size of the room would allow. The fluorescent light overhead was bright and sufficient. Umberto looked down at his cut-offs, with their missing waistband, shortened length, and the exposed button-fly. His reflection (or part of it) filled the entire mirror. “Fucking amazing. You worked well on them, Lee. They’re so hot and I want you to convert all my jeans and pants from now on. Make them all EBFs. But you know what? I’m so horny now, I don’t think these buttons are going to hold. What do you think?” Lee didn’t know what to say. He was in awe of the muscle-god. It sounded like Umberto was planning that their ‘relationship’ be a long term thing. He liked the sound of that. “You can blow your load, now, honey. Umberto is pleased with the attention you’ve given him. Now to give you something back as a reward. But first get out of that uniform and your boxers. I wanna see all of you.” Lee went quiet again, eager to please the giant wall of mega-muscle before him. He hurried himself to complete nakedness and stood before Umberto, skinny, lanky, and naked as the day he was born. His erection was at full mast and it shot straight up level with his abs and well past his belly button. Umberto loved how hung he was for such a skinny guy. “Wow, that’s a gorgeous cock you have. Who’d have thought your button-fly could keep all that in without bursting apart?” Umberto’s words were too much. Lee moaned and his entire body shook as his balls began to throb for release of his spunk. It was Umberto’s cue to reach forward and effortlessly lift Lee upwards, drawing his quivering dick up to his manly, too-sexy lips. Just as Lee screamed in release of his salty créme, Umberto took hold of his cock and sucked it all the way into his mouth. Lee’s body tensed like iron in his grip as his spunk gushed down Umberto’s throat. The bodybuilder drank deeply, pleased – and a little surprised – that such a skinny guy could produce so much seed. Five shots of come, or maybe six, gushed down Umberto’s throat and he took Lee to the very last drop. Lee’s scream quietened and his body went limp in Umberto’s hold. The giant bodybuilder had been satiated, for now. He pulled Lee close to him, this time tenderly, and allowed the little guy to bury his face in his huge and beautiful pectorals. Lee nuzzled each pec with equal tenderness. Then he started sobbing unexpectedly. “That was… amazing… ohmygosh!” was all he could say. Umberto hugged him a little longer, before setting him down. There was a bench in the changing room where the male staff could sit down to take their work shoes on and off. He sat there, naked and quivering with a mixture of elation and nervous anxiety. Spent of his seed, his body needed time to adjust to normality again. Maybe it never would. He looked up at the massive muscle-god. “But what about you? Aren’t you gonna come as well?” An innocently put question that made Lee look even cuter. “Well I don’t want to ruin these beautiful improved cut-offs that now exist thanks to you,” Umberto explained. He added: “Besides, I shot a massive fucking load in the gym before I left it. Drenched four bodybuilders in the shower who then started having an orgy to get as much of my come into their mouths. It was quite a sight to behold. I didn’t even bother to shower. Just came over here to get some grub. Which reminds me, I’m fucking starving after my workout.” “So then, this is it? I don’t get to taste your muscle spunk? Can we do this again?” Lee was suddenly greatly concerned that Umberto had been fucking with him from the beginning just to get a mouthful of twink jizz. But Umberto smiled at him, warmly, his cocky demeanour now taking a back seat to something between friendliness and wanting something more. He lifted Lee onto the bench so that their eye levels were now the same. He raised a big callused mitt up to gently pinch Lee on the cheek. Of course, this caused his biceps and forearm muscles to collide, forcing more and more veins to freakishly bloat and swell with power. “Don’t worry, sexy Lee… MY sexy Lee. Had I known I’d meet someone like you at the most unexpected moment, I’d never have shot my litre-sized load back over in the gym. I was super horny after one of the best workouts of my life. Sometimes any horniness remaining manifests as playful arrogance, if that’s even a thing. I’m a little spent now, and I’ve had my fun for the time being. But I gotta pay the bills, so I have to get something to eat and then get to work. I just moved into the big warehouse apartment on Bridge Street and I gotta work to keep a roof over my head, and, of course, to pay for all the food and supplements I need to grow so fucking huge!” A tinge of the arrogant self-indulgent Umberto returned to finish his last sentence. Lee’s eyes grew wide with surprise. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Did you say Bridge Street? Why… I live right across the street from that apartment. How come I never saw you before today? You’re impossible to miss.” Lee couldn’t believe that the man of his dreams was very much a reality, and lived just a few metres from his own flat. “Just moved in yesterday. I didn’t unpack. Just hit the weights hard. I’ll have a full gym set up in the place eventually. But for now Gridiron will suffice. It’s for the genetically gifted hyper-muscled bodybuilders who want to grow even bigger. My kinda place. But I really can’t wait to get to know you better. Hey I never even got your surname, did I?” Umberto’s lust had levelled out. He behaved quite gentlemanly now, but he was the type that could explode into a massive most muscular at any moment and anger up the testosterone in his balls again, setting it off like a nest of disturbed hornets. “It’s Fordham. Lee Fordham,” Lee replied. “Nice to meet you, Lee Fordham. Umberto Morelli really likes what he sees. And Umberto Morelli really wants to get to know you better. Are you free tomorrow evening for dinner? I know this great Italian pizza place on Timpani Street. I have an account there. But it’s quite a formal dress code, too. Do you own a dress shirt and bow tie? I’m really into bow ties.” Umberto lifted Lee down from the bench and bent down to pick up his clothes for him. In fairness Lee could have done with a shower before going back to work, but he had a feeling Eugene would go easy on him. Besides, it had to be near the end of his shift, now that a sense of the normal passage of time had returned to Lee. “I also love bow ties. I’ve got a drawer full of them,” Lee beamed. He couldn’t believe it… Umberto was asking him out on a date. A proper date. He’d never been on one of those before, usually scoring with guys at gay bars or occasional internet hookups. “Great. Meet me outside my apartment at 8pm. Hopefully the sun will still be out and we can casually stroll hand in hand to the restaurant, dressed in our finest and turning the heads of everyone we pass. But we won’t give a shit. Fuck them. I’ve got too much muscle to care.” And to illustrate unabashedly, the bodybuilder brought his arms up and popped out a huge double biceps. His muscle peaks blasted upward like new mountains being birthed from the earth. Lightning flashes of veins cracked across every surface. Lee gasped yet again. And then Umberto was gone, squeezing through the enlarged doorway he had made for himself. Wearing only his denim cut-offs with the buttons shining and fully exposed, he left via the delivery entrance, deciding not to cause too much of a commotion given that he was completely shirtless. He could have used a shower. Plaster dust and splinters of wood still clung to some of the more moisturised parts of his muscles. Fuck it, he’d still turn heads wherever he went. He was a muscle-god and so to him normal rules no longer applied. Later on, Lee was at his locker, having had a shower after such a spectacular afternoon. Eugene was upset over the damage Umberto had made to the changing room door, but Lee said all the wanking he’d be doing to the recordings of Umberto being cocky and self-obsessed with his displays of unabashed and jaw-dropping muscularity and strength, would more than make up for the damage. Eugene was okay with it. He looked forward to reviewing those recordings at home on his computer later that evening. Of course first he would have to get in a handyman to repair damage to the changing room. Sam’s shift ended when Lee’s did. Their lockers were side by side. Sam made casual chat with Lee as they changed clothes, mostly about the damage the hulking bodybuilder had caused to the door. Then, more confidently, Sam asked Lee out for a drink, but Lee declined, much to Sam’s dismay. That was the first time the newbie had asked him out for a drink, and it further cemented in his mind that Sam might indeed be gay, given that he’d opted for the exposed button-fly version of the mens work pants, rather than the concealed fly. Feeling somewhat emboldened, Lee decided to raise the issue of Sam’s choice of work pants. “So you went for the sexier choice of work pants, just like the boss and me. I hope you’re not attempting to suck up to Eugene,” Lee joked as he slipped into a tee-shirt and running shorts. His uniform would need washing. It reeked of precum and sweat, otherwise he would have worn it home. The tee-shirt and shorts in his locker were just for emergencies. “Yeah, they’re pretty cool. I like how they look on me. A break from the norm eh?” Sam, despite being a bit chubby, was still quite good looking. Lee had hooked up with confident chubby guys before and they were pretty good in the sack, although Lee’s number one choice of guy would always be a bodybuilder. And Umberto has certainly raised the bar in that respect, only his bar was supporting a massive 1000 pounds for 12 reps at a time. Sam was the type that stripped both top and bottoms off at the same time, unashamed to be seen only in his tiny, sexy undies as he rummaged in his locker for his day clothes. He dropped his deodorant on the floor and gleefully bent down to retrieve it, careful to make sure that the luminous pink thong he wore was in full view of Lee. It divided his portly bubble butt nicely, the thin thong strap at the rear easily swallowed up by his cavernous crack. Being a bit on the short side, he made up for it in other ways. Lee felt his dick quivering excitedly in his shorts. But if Sam had anything planned from flirting with Lee, then it wasn’t happening in a locker room that reeked of bodybuilder muscle stink. Sam slipped into a pair of black Levis jeans cut short to his knees. His thighs were chunky and his hips a little too wide, but the jeans looked great on him. Especially the exposed button-fly front he’d created for himself with a pair of scissors. Lee almost shrieked with delight. Another recruit to club EBF, it seemed. Then Sam, growing bolder by the minute, pulled a stretchy ribbed sky blue tee-shirt out of his bag, only he’d snipped a good four inches off the bottom. It hung from his doughy chest as a crop top, stopping just above a navel encircled with fine blonde hair that darkened slightly to the beginning of a hot pubic line above the waistband of his jeans. Lee’s dick grew instantly hard. He liked crop tops, too, and resolved to start wearing them himself, provided the weather stayed warm and sunny. Lee found himself liking Sam more and more with each passing moment. That was when Sam leaned forward, having to stand on his tiptoes to reach Lee’s luscious lips. What had been a spontaneous superficial friend-to-friend peck on the lips soon saw the guys thrusting their tongues into each other’s mouths, tasting and probing for all they were worth. “Fuck going for a drink,” Lee gasped, much surprised by this sudden turn of events. He added: “You’re coming home with me.” And with a playful pat on his arse, Lee left Aldersons with Sam Wickham, not knowing where the evening would take them. PART 2 “You’re flat’s nice,” Sam said to Lee when they arrived at Lee’s place. It was just a two-roomer, with the bed, living and dining area all combined. A door led through to a bathroom barely big enough to shower, shave and take a leak in. That was it. Lee lived quite frugally and didn’t have a lot of clutter. But he had a big wardrobe full of clothes, and a chest of drawers for undies and socks and so forth. “It’s not much, but all I can afford on Aldersons wages,” he replied, almost bashfully. He liked how Sam had suddenly come out of his shell, but having had his load shot into the throat of the biggest bodybuilder he’d ever seen, Lee was feeling a little depleted. He also liked, however, that Sam had made such a spontaneous pass at him back in the changing room, although he couldn’t get Umberto out of his thoughts. “Yeah, I know the feeling. I live with my granny. She’s always drunk and breaking stuff, so I pretty much just stay in my room playing video games and leave her to her own business,” Sam said, inviting himself to sit down on Lee’s capacious queen-sized bed. “Mmmm… comfy. I wonder what fun we could have in this bed,” said Sam, forwardly. He made himself more comfortable by removing his crop top and unbuttoning the top button of his EBF denims. He rested his back against a pillow and placed one forearm behind his head. With his other hand he started to rub his crotch. Gaps appeared between his exposed button-fly as his dick thickened with chubbiness. Lee watched, interested, but wishing Sam had muscles as big as Umberto. But Sam was truly beautiful even though he was a bit on the overweight side. He wasn’t shy about being overweight, and loved to show off his puffy nipples that pushed out from light brown areolas. Lee wasn’t sure why he did what he did next, but reason and logic had decided to take the day off ever since Umberto came into their lives. “Here, sniff this. Breathe in his smell real deep, and tell me I wasn’t and still aren’t having some amazing dream,” said Lee. He didn’t remember putting it in the pocket of his shorts before leaving work earlier, but there it was: the panel of denim he’d removed from Umberto’s shorts, one of two souvenirs he would hopefully never part with. He tossed it towards Sam and it landed on his doughy gut near to his gorgeous treasure trail of darker pubes. “Oh I see what this is. I bet it smells amazing,” said Sam passing the denim strip across his nostrils like the way toffee-nosed types sniff a fine and expensive cigar. He drew in deeply, allowing the microscopic particles of Umberto’s bodybuilder muscle-stink to intoxicate his senses. His crotch swelled further and more visibly. Lee’s shorts began to tent outwards at the front. “Yum… I could sniff this all day. What exactly happened with you and the giant god of muscle-manliness earlier in Eugene’s office?” “He posed a lot, flexing his muscles and being a total alpha show-off. It was hard getting his shorts down past his massive thighs. And his dick was fucking huge. I think he was growing as he got more and more turned on. I eventually couldn’t keep my load in and when I shot it off he lifted me up in time to swallow the lot,” Lee explained. He reached into his bag for the tattered remains of the other souvenir, Umberto’s shirt that was barely a shirt when worn by a mountainous god. The flat soon reeked of come and sweat far stronger than the most hardcore bodybuilding gyms. Lee continued his account of earlier, and both guys grew more and more aroused: “He was too big to get through the changing room door because he wanted to see how the shorts looked on him, and you know the changing room has a full-length mirror. And you saw what he did to the door.” The tattered shirt was stinking so much now. It was strange, like it was getting stinkier and more arousingly pungent, although that was impossible, was it not? “Yeah he can’t be of this world, Lee. He simply can't be. Do you like how swollen my nipples look when I’m turned on?” There was no denying that Sam Wickham was looking more and more hot and pleasing to the eye with each passing minute. What the hell was going on? Had they somehow crossed over to a parallel universe, where massive bodybuilders that defied all physical laws lived and breathed and reigned superior over the mundane masses? “Your nips are amazing,” said Lee. He wanted to fuck Sam, now, but wasn’t sure if he was a top of a bottom. His arse was big and bubbly, if a bit flabby, but it would easily take all ten inches of Lee’s big, hungry cock. But before he could advance on the short, blonde stud, Sam was off the bed and across the room so as to grab Umberto’s shirty remains off Lee. “I wanna be your randy little Incredible Hulk,” Sam growled, and dressed up in the shredded shirt as best as its tattered flaps of cotton would allow. He looked stupid with it on, but neither of them cared. Lee formed an anxious look on his face as it suddenly occurred to him that Sam’s body odour might interfere with Umberto’s muscle-stink, and somehow change it. But what if it made the smell even better? “Mmmm the smell is amazing. I’d love to be a big bodybuilder and do insane things to you,” teased Sam, rubbing Umberto’s muscle stink into his soft skin. His nipples bulged more hugely, now, looking more like the fertile, nourishing nubs of a woman than of a hot young bloke. “We shouldn’t do this, Sam. I feel like we’re meddling in affairs we shouldn’t be,” Lee chewed his bottom lip to stop it from quivering. His ten incher was now at full mast, pushing out his shorts further and further. Umberto’s smell was almost choking their olfactory senses, but the pleasure of it was indescribable. “Oh man… bodybuilding… bodybuilding… body-fucking-building. I want it so much,” said Sam making muscle poses and growling like an adolescent in heat. Lee lost control and pushed Sam across the room. The intoxicated duo landed on the bed, with Lee and all of his six feet of lanky leanness lying on top of Sam. Lee kissed him forcibly, now also making angry noises as his horniness intensified. They rolled around on the bed, interchanging positions and getting more of the shirt stink on the duvet. The smell seemed to get stronger and stronger. Lee pinned down Sam’s hands and the blonde made no attempt to break free. His mouth and tongue hungrily explored Sam’s face and neck, before working down to his less manly-looking chest with its disproportionately large and suckable buds, which Lee tasted and found delicious. He released one of Sam’s hands so he could fondle his stomach, tracing down through his treasure trail to pop the buttons of his cut-offs and release Sam’s rod. Sam’s pudgy dick was already too extended and swollen for his skimpy thong to contain and it popped out and thickened with mass and throbbing veins. “I’m a grower, a fucking huge grower,” Sam gasped as Lee dropped to his knees so he could suck the precum off Sam’s beautiful cock. It was about seven inches hard, but it was also very thick, and it filled Lee’s mouth sufficiently. Lee sucked him off to a point where it seemed Sam would come in his mouth, but he had to taste more and more of him, especially his wonderfully fat, round balls that were already charging with lusty juices. “I want you so naked,” Lee snarled, pulling the tattered plaid shirt away from the short blonde stud. It was warm in the flat now, and the guys glistened with sweat from the effort of being so suddenly turned on by one another. Sam found the strength to flip away from the bed, simultaneously grabbing Lee and flinging him onto the bed. Now out of his clothes Lee’s super leanness seemed to compliment the chunkier Sam. “Wow, your cock is huge. It must be nine inches,” Sam marvelled. “It’s ten,” Lee gasped and his big dick twitched and pulsed with the energy of sexually-charged youth. “I’d love it to be over a foot long, though,” he added. “I want to be enormous all over,” Sam said, before taking all of Lee’s ten inches into his mouth until he almost gagged. He’d obviously done this thing before, and he deftly pleasured Lee’s big dick over and over. They now reeked of bodybuilder muscle-musk. It was heavenly. “Imagine my big nipples on bodybuilder pectorals,” Sam managed to murmur in between sucks. “Huge… get fucking huge, Sam. Make Umberto look small,” Lee pleaded as his lust rose to critical levels. They changed positions once more, with Sam lying with his back on the stinky bed. He arched his pelvis upward, and Lee caught his legs by the ankles and pushed, bringing Sam’s legs up and over and revealing his plump anus invitingly. “Put it in me,” Sam growled, and Lee was only too pleased to oblige. An arse as well-formed and capacious as Sam’s was simply made for a big dick. Lee wondered how many dicks had been caressed by that tight hole. Lee entered Sam, slowly at first, but then momentum increased and Lee was soon pounding Sam somewhat aggressively, not that Sam minded in the slightest. They fucked for what seemed like ages, Lee taking Sam repeatedly up his hole, and in other positions, too. Then they changed roles and Lee got to feel Sam’s chubby mass of manhood inside his modest anus. Both guys tasted each other’s jizz and they drank each other dry, with Sam’s larger balls producing way much more spurting spunk than Lee was capable of producing so soon after feeding it to Umberto Morelli. After several screaming orgasms, the boys collapsed on the big reeking bed, to reflect on the day that had been. Outside the sun began to set. “Fancy some takeout?” Lee suggested. Both lads had forgotten they had appetites, with food taking a back seat to other fancies. “Yeah, Pizza would be great. But we should take a shower first,” said Sam. “Nah, I don’t want us to lose Umberto’s stink. I forgot to tell you he just moved in across the street, into the warehouse apartment. He obviously needs a lot of space to live in. He’d never fit inside this place,” said Lee. “Wow, lucky you, living so close to him. Maybe he’ll let you play with his muscles once in a while,” Sam suggested. “That would be amazing. He really had an effect on me today. And then what we just did… I really wasn’t expecting that. Have you been with many guys, Sam?” “Um… just a few. I only came out a few months ago. My friends know. My granny doesn’t. My parents are divorced. Mum lives in Scotland, and Dad travels a lot for work. We mostly facetime. I don’t have any siblings. What about you?” Sam snuggled into sweaty Lee, liking how his skinny body looked so anatomical due to his lack of body fat. It contrasted his own doughiness quite nicely. “I moved here to be independent and gay. There’s not much to tell. Just boring stuff. But I like my life and I’m obsessed with exposed button-fly pants and jeans, and also, of course… massive bodybuilders.” Lee reached for his phone and to an app that would order them a big pizza and some fries they could share. While they waited, they cuddled and chatted further. “Yeah I only ever wear exposed button pants. And I love crop-tops, as you’ve already seen. I wished we lived back in the early seventies, when every second guy you’d pass on the street would be wearing EBFs,” Sam’s gaze seemed to look into the aether, as if drawn to a memory of years before they were born. “You know your stuff. It’s great having someone to share a rare fetish with, other than Eugene. I’ll make some crop-tops out of a few old shirts tomorrow. Maybe we could go clubbing in them,” Lee enthused. Just for fun Lee got up off the bed and dressed in Sam’s clothes. The crop-top was obviously swimming on him, and the jeans which Sam had cut to just above his knees ended halfway down his slender thighs. He buttoned up all of the buttons only to discover how loose the waistband was. “Heh, look at how loose they are around my waist, Sam. What waist size are you?” “Thirty-four. I know, I could lose a few pounds, or at least trim off some of the fat,” Sam patted his slight paunch proudly, causing his love handles to jiggle. “Haha, my bony waist is only twenty-eight. But watch this.” Lee turned to the side and put his arms behind his head. He took a few breaths and then sucked in his stomach as deeply as he could. “Holy shit,” said Sam, his eyes almost coming out on stalks. Lee’s stomach vacuum made his torso diminish in girth as though only a couple of inches existed between his spine and belly-button. “Just one of my party tricks. Maybe I’ll show you others,” Lee winked. Then he added: “Hey, let's have some fun when the pizza delivery guy arrives. I usually order from the same place. I got us a meat supreme. Rex is the delivery guy and he’s a hottie. Is it okay to remove the waistband from your EBFs? I promise it’ll make them look even sexier on you. More of that hot treasure trail on show, and you’ll still have the other four buttons down the front to show off.” Sam thought about it. “Yeah, go ahead. We can be all slutty with Rex when he arrives. Maybe he’ll want to hang out with us for a bit,” Sam winked mischievously. Lee went to work on the denims. It only took a minute to cut around the circumference of the jeans with his trusty scissors. “Here, try them on for me now,” Lee playfully ordered. Sam was only too keen to oblige. Lee opened his wardrobe inside of which was a full-length mirror attached to the door. “Wow, they look great. And my nipples are fully erect, too,” said Sam cheerily. Lee then rummaged around in his wardrobe and found a trashed pair of EBF cut-offs that were almost completely backless, save for a thong-strip seam at the back that was easily guzzled up by his crack. “Are these slutty enough, ya think?” said Lee with an impish wink. “So hot. I wonder if Rex will get all horned up by Umberto’s muscle-stink when he arrives and it hits him in the face?” The boys had gotten used to the smell, but it was still very present in the flat. It wasn’t too long before the doorbell sounded. “Pizza!” “Great, I’m famished,” said Sam, but Lee made a face. “Strange, that doesn’t sound like Rex. It’s a deeper voice,” said Lee. He looked through the peephole in the door. “Holy shit, wait until you see the size of this guy,” he whispered back to Sam who was admiring himself in front of the mirror. He really liked the no-waistband look. Lee excitedly opened the door, wearing only the slutty EBF thong that had originally been a full pair of jeans. The delivery guy was a hunk, and very well built, but nowhere near to matching Umberto for size and sheer muscle mass. The bodybuilder was bald, with slate grey eyes, handsome face finished by a trim black goatee. Lee thought he might have seen him in Aldersons once, which suggested he might lift at Gridiron. “That’ll be eighteen seventy, buddy,” he said handing over the food and Lee’s cock began to twitch as the bodybuilder’s eyes were drawn downward to what Lee was barely wearing. “Um, let me get my wallet. My shorts are so small they don’t have any pockets,” Lee teased, cursorily shooting a sly wink back at Sam. “I can see that,” the bodybuilding hunk replied, and then, somewhat boldly: “What’s the story with those anyway? Ever hear of zippers?” “Um, exposed button-fly is all the rage these days,” Lee lied, “and getting quite popular with bodybuilders, too. What do you think of them?” The bodybuilder just snorted something incomprehensible, although he had invited himself into the flat and nodded politely to Sam. “You’re a big fella, have you ever competed?” Sam asked. “Did a contest a while back. I placed seventh. I’m trying to bulk up to get heavy enough to train at Gridiron,” said the bodybuilder. He then glanced at his watch somewhat impatiently. “Ah right. We work at Aldersons supermarket right across the street from that gym. I thought I’d seen you in our store once before, and so reckoned you were already a member. We get a lot of bodybuilders in the store because we sell a lot of supplements and clothing for bodybuilders,” Lee went on. “I’ve been there once or twice. Strange dress code on the pants of the male staff,” said the bodybuilder. “Have you ever heard of Umberto Morelli? He came into the store today. He’s gigantic,” Lee just had to ask. “Yeah, I know of him. He’s freaky huge alright. I’d kill to be that size. Say, it smells like a gym in here. You guys been working out?” The bodybuilder warmed to them, slightly. “Well we were doing a workout, of sorts… on one another,” Sam teased, and groped a handful of his button-fly crotch. “So you two are gay? Easy to tell from your slutty gay shorts,” the bodybuilder laughed. “Here’s the money for the food. You’re welcome to stay and have some with us,” said Lee innocently enough. The bodybuilder considered the offer. “Well I was doing a favour for my brother. He owns the pizza parlour. Three of his delivery guys are off sick. Some bug going around. I haven’t eaten since my last protein shake. Fuck it, my brother’s a cunt anyway.” The bodybuilder made himself comfortable over in the dining corner of the flat. Lee only had two chairs and a formica table from which to eat. He hoped the chair wasn’t too uncomfortable for the muscle-man. “I’m Lee and this is Sam,” said Lee, happy to have another unplanned houseguest. “I’m John,” said the bodybuilder. He took off his jacket to reveal a tight red polo shirt painted over delicious muscles. At a glance Lee took him to be around two hundred and fifty pounds. He had bulging pecs and biceps and was definitely in his bulking phase as there weren’t too many veins-a-popping. “Nice to meet you John,” said Sam, lusting for the hunk. Lee got some plates for the pizza and fries. He indicated that Sam would take the other chair. Lee was content to stand. And so the impromptu threesome began to chow down. It so happened that Lee, never one for having a big appetite, managed just one slice of pizza and some fries. Sam managed three slices, whilst John finished off the rest of the food with gusto. He let out a long, loud belch of satisfaction and then patted his cobblestone belly. “This will count as my cheat meal for the week,” he decided. What he said next startled Sam who at this point had put his crop-top back on. Lee was content to stay shirtless in his trashy EBF thong shorts. John didn’t seem to mind. “You’ve got a decent bit of muscle on you, Sam. It looks good. How much do you bench? Those tits didn’t come from nowhere.” It was then Sam realised that somehow his body had changed. But how was that possible? “Um… huh?” Sam couldn’t respond properly at first. But Lee responded on his behalf. “Fuck, Sam… you… you’ve grown some muscle. Buh-but how?” Sure enough, beneath the crop top the beginning of abs and cum-gutters could now be seen. His waist seemed definitely trimmer. A couple of veins snaked around his forearms and small balls formed – where before his biceps were under a blanket of dough – as he bent and moved his arms. His crop-top tented out a little, caused by a chest that was definitely firmer and projected outward more than before. His jeans felt looser, and the cut-off ends were no longer just above his knees, rather an inch or so higher up his thighs than before. John seemed intrigued by Sam’s and Lee’s reactions. “Maybe it’s the smell… from the shirt. I wore the shirt. We rolled around on the bed in its muscle-musk. Could that be the reason this happened?” Sam removed his crop-top and went over to the mirror. He checked himself out in detail and couldn’t believe his eyes. His BMI had significantly lowered. He still had some fat, but not as much as before. He bounced his new pecs and squealed in delight. “But I got covered in that musk as well, so how come I’m as skinny as ever?” Lee seemed disappointed. Sure, he loved being a skinny twink with a big cock, and he’d failed to make bodybuilding a lifestyle in the past, but he wouldn’t have turned his nose up at some spontaneous “muscle-growth-without-effort”. What had happened to Sam was nothing short of a miracle. Wait, something felt different. Pressure had formed inside Lee’s slut-jeans-thong, of a kind he’d never felt so strongly before. The front of the shorts bulged obscenely, gaps appearing between the button-fly and tufts of pubic hair poking through. He ran half-panicking, half-excitedly to the bathroom and slammed the door. Sam looked at John and neither spoke. After a few seconds of silence: “FUCK!!!!” “What is it, Lee? Are you okay?” Sam checked out his lats in the mirror. They were small, but definitely there. He groped and twisted his body into all sorts of poses, trying to make his new muscles pop. Lee came back out into the living area, this time he was completely nude. His boner was at full mast, and… what a boner it was. It had to be at least a foot long. It seemed a little thicker to Sam than when he had it down his throat and up his arse earlier. “Um…er… Sam… go to the knife drawer and take out my ruler. I need to confirm this,” said Lee, excitedly, shaking a long, slender finger in the direction of the knife drawer by the sink. Even John the bodybuilder seemed impressed by the size of the twink’s schlong. The gym he currently attended had some gay exhibitionists in it, and they’d often get so horny after workouts, they’d be showing off their jewels in the shower and locker room as much as their muscle gains. He was used to that sort of thing. Sam rummaged for the ruler and gave it to Lee. Being so lean there were no mammoth pectorals obscuring his gaze as he looked down at the massive penis attached to so much trimness. He set the ruler along one side of his dick and was dumbstruck that it was shorter than the rigid shaft by at least three quarters of an inch. The dick had gained almost three inches in length. He gripped it in his hand and knew straight away that it had also thickened. Where he’d had a considerably above-average cock earlier, he now boasted a monster dick that would make a lot of porn stars sick with envy. “I’m fuckin’ huge,” he almost screamed. “Whatever you guys are on, I need the number of your supplier,” said John, completely into what was going on in the flat. What had started out as a shitty evening for him, had definitely become something that more than piqued his interest. He hadn’t been completely honest with Lee and Sam. Yes, his brother was down three delivery guys that evening, but John was working for him to help pay off a loan he owed him. John had fallen on hard times in his journey to become a huge bodybuilder, bigger than Umberto Morelli, having spent that loan on as many “get big as quickly as possible” methods in order to fuel and expedite his chosen lifestyle. He was unquestionably a bodybuilder to look at, but he seldom showed off his muscles because his chest, shoulders and back were covered in acne from the steroids. He also found it hard to get an erection, so any HGH and testosterone shots he could get via the black market was why he owed his brother close to ten grand. These two supermarket clerks seemed to have stumbled upon a muscle and cock growth miracle. And he wanted in. “We’re not entirely sure how this happened, John,” said Sam, now also nude in order to see if he’d had any growth elsewhere. Sure enough: “My dick’s bigger, too. I used to be seven inches hard, but I think I gained at least another inch.” The ruler confirmed he was now exactly eight inches with a rock-hard boner. His balls felt heavier, too. “Could it have anything to do with the muscle-cum-stink in here? I’ve delivered pizza to hundreds of addresses. I’ve delivered to other bodybuilders wanting their cheat meals after heavy workout sessions, and they answer the door wearing very little cuz they just had sex with their girlfriends or whatever, and never once have I smelt a scent like this, not even from other bodybuilders. So I’ll ask again… what shit are you two on?” Lee and Sam didn’t take kindly to John’s sudden change of mood (most likely a result of too much juicing). “We’re not on anything. Honest.” Lee was nervous now, as was Sam. John was a lot bigger and stronger than they were, and he was becoming aggressive. “I don’t fuckin’ believe you,” John snarled. And to emphasise his rising impatience, he picked up one of the kitchen chairs like it weighed nothing, and threw it across the room. It missed Sam by inches, and smashed into many pieces when it struck the wall over the headboard of Lee’s bed. Both Sam and Lee cringed in fright, losing their boners and fearing for their safety. Would they have time to make it to the fire escape? They’d never get past John to get to the front door. He had them trapped. John made a lunge for Lee, but he managed to jump onto the bed and then off again to get close to Sam near the wardrobe. The boys now held onto each other for dear life. John’s forward momentum caused him to land face down on the bed. He rolled sideways and landed on the floor with a loud grunt and heavy thud. He was momentarily dazed, giving the boys a chance to make it to the fire escape. Lee opened the window and clambered out first, intending to lend assistance to the bulkier, shorter Sam in case he had trouble getting out through the window. They hoped John was too bulky to pursue. But he didn’t follow them. What was going on? Had he cracked his head open when he rolled on to the floor? “Fuck, this is shit. We should never have ordered pizza,” said Lee as they cowered outside on the fire escape. Thank heavens it wasn’t winter time or they’d be freezing right now. Still, they trembled in fear, not knowing what would happen next. Then, after the longest, quietest minute in their lives: “Thanks guys. I think I found what I'm looking for. See ya around,” said John, his short-lived tantrum abated. They heard the front door slam. But they stayed out on the fire escape a little longer. They said nothing for about a minute. Sam bravely stuck his head through the window to make sure John had left. “He’s gone, I’m sure of it. We can go back inside now.” The boys got back inside and didn’t say much, as they were still a little shocked by how such an amazing day had been soiled by John’s behaviour. Sam set about clearing bits of broken chair off the bed. Finally, in order to break the awkward silence: “My granny has fold-up lawn chairs in her garage. I’ll bring one over tomorrow to replace this.” “Thanks,” Lee croaked. He decided to help Sam clear up the broken chair. Afterward the boys held each other close in bed. They played with each other’s changed anatomies for a little while, but neither were in the mood to do much. “Do you notice something different about the flat?” Sam asked, as Lee caressed his beginner pecs with something short of lusty enthusiasm. His nipples sat firmly on each delicious mound, bigger and more succulent than before. “Yeah, Umberto’s muscle-stink… can’t smell it so much any more. We were covered in the musk when we had all that sex earlier.” Lee pulled some duvet up to his nose and inhaled deeply. The smell was still there, but weakened compared to earlier. “That’s what must have made us grow. You wanted a bigger dick, and I wanted to be a huge bodybuilder. Our lust must have made our wishes come true, fuelled entirely by the shirt of a giant bodybuilder.” The boys looked at one another, their eyes blazing wide. “THE SHIRT!!!” They both cried in unison. They leapt out of bed and started a frantic search for the shirt. They couldn’t find it anywhere. “John must have found the shirt when he fell off the bed, and realised it has special properties. That’s what he meant when he said he’d found what he was looking for.” Sam’s “Eureka” moment was soon dragged down by a sinister undertow. “Well I had the shirt on, and much of my fat melted away to be replaced by at least ten to fifteen pounds of muscle. Do you have a scale here? I’d like to weigh myself,” Sam asked. “In the bathroom beside the toilet. I never use it. Don’t need to. It was here when I moved in,” Lee explained. Sam went to the bathroom, leaving the door open as he stepped on the scale. “One fifty three, down from one sixty eight last time I weighed myself. I definitely lost weight since this morning, but I’ve gained muscle. That’s impossible to achieve naturally in such a short span of time.” “As is me adding almost three inches to my erect penis. And if the shirt gave you muscles, and then I got a bigger dick from fucking you, maybe there is something of a chemical nature to the muscle-stink from the shirt, that could cause John to also transform himself.” Lee grew worried. Neither of them wanted a cunt like John to get any bigger by interacting with the shirt. “We need to get the shirt back, Lee,” said Sam. He had hoped he’d get to wear the shirt again – or at least sniff it – and grow his muscles even bigger. “I have an idea. But we’ll need help to ensure it goes smoothly.” Lee gave Sam an encouraging peck on the lips. The boys got dressed. It was approaching eleven o’ clock at night. Lee took Sam outside and gazed across an almost deserted Bridge Street road and to the warehouse apartment on the other side. With the upper front facing mostly glass, the apartment would get a lot of light during the day. And the boys were in luck. There were lights on inside, which meant one thing: “Umberto’s home,” said Lee with a reassuring smile. PART 3 Umberto scarcely had time to unpack, as he’d only just moved into his apartment the previous day. The former warehouse had been converted into a capacious dwelling, with plenty of living space, as well as storage space in the loft, and an open plan layout which meant his living space and personal gym would pretty much meld into one. Should he require help if he needed it, a few pec bounces, lat spreads, and double bis would easily have the local young men running towards him, heavy with lust for the massive muscle god. He loved bodybuilding. He loved living the life of a bodybuilding muscle-god. He loved to show off his muscles, and in turn have his muscles worshipped by as many guys as he could interact with and still do all the other things you needed to do just to get from one day to the next. Keith Doppler, who’d been buying groceries in Aldersons earlier that day, had decided to follow Umberto to see where he lived. From the second he laid eyes on the man-mountain, he was obsessed with him. He struggled to come to terms with his sexuality, even trying to live a bisexual lifestyle, so at least he could be into chicks as well as guys. But seeing Umberto Morelli for the first time, tipped the balance of his sexual preferences well and truly over the pink fence and into “Gayville” as a permanent resident. He behaved like a muscle-jock, even though he’d not played sports or worked out as much as he should have in several years. He still had more muscle than the average bloke, but he’d built a good bit of fat on top of the muscle. However, he still carried himself like an alpha jock if only to bolster his confidence and mask his insecurities. Umberto couldn’t have muscle-strutted into Aldersons at a more perfect moment. Seeing him altered something in Keith’s brain. He no longer wanted to be one who should be looked up to and envied for his physical prowess on and off the rugby field. He wanted Umberto all to himself, to serve him and worship him as a god. Umberto had walked the short distance home from Aldersons, basking in smug delight as he got so many stares from passers-by. His only clothing were, of course, his EBF denim cut-offs. He was huge, bigger than any bodybuilder the local townsfolk had ever seen in their lives. And he was only too willing to show off his gigantic muscles to the world. Being summer, it wasn’t quite dry enough for a hosepipe ban, and so Umberto beamed a conceited smile when he saw a hot teenager hosing down a Volkswagen Beetle in his driveway. The shirtless youth was dark-haired and really cute, if a little doughy around the middle. “Hey buddy, turn that hose my way. I need cooling off, and I’m dirty from my door-widening experience earlier,” he confidently hollered. The youth turned toward him and looked aghast with that “deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle” look that most people display when they see a massive bodybuilder. The youth’s shorts tented out instantly as his boner formed. But he was happy to oblige Umberto, and so turned the spray on the huge bodybuilder. “Heh heh, I can turn any guy gay just having them look at me,” he sniggered. He stood outside the youth’s driveway and did a full lat spread towards him. His muscle-bod heaved and hulked upwards and outwards and he pushed his pectorals up with such force, the bulbous, beefy shelves whacked off his chin. Thick striations – deep enough to lose half your fingers in – cracked across his chest. He sucked in his abdominals, making a deep and dark vacuum that made him look more enormous than ever. The cool water spray drenched his body, washing all of the dust off him. By now all of the lotion Lee had rubbed into him earlier had been completely absorbed, and so Umberto was pleased to be wet and glistening again. “That feels so good, kid,” said Umberto, doing a full turn so that he could flare out his back for the youth to faint at the sight of. Some distance away, Keith watched from behind a tree. He was in awe of Umberto. His boner throbbed uncomfortably in his boxers. “Bodybuilder, bodybuilding to be bodybuilt ‘cos he’s into bodybuilding his bodybuilder’s body,” Keith chanted as his lust intensified. Simply uttering the word “bodybuilding”, and its conjugations, was enough to get him turned on. He slipped one hand into his shorts, and tweaked one of his exposed nipples with the other. There weren’t many people around this time of the early evening, but he didn’t care. No one would even notice Keith and what he was doing with gigantic Umberto flexing magnificently just a few paces away. And so as Umberto enjoyed a free hose pipe shower, Keith continued to pleasure himself, his arousal intensifying with each incredible pose Umberto pulled his muscles into. That was when Keith lost his footing when one of his feet slipped off the pavement and onto the road. He lost his balance and fell flat, just as a stupid bitch texting on her phone – when she should have been watching her driving – bore down on Keith at speed and seemingly out of nowhere. Keith – suddenly realising what was happening – let out a scream that was a tad bit high-pitched for a buff dude in his mid-twenties and whose dad bod was gradually taking him over. Before dizzy-texting-bitch could slam on the brakes, the car came to a sudden stop, although the rear wheels were still turning at 45 miles per hour. Umberto, quick to react and save Keith’s life, held up the back of the car with one mighty arm. There was only a couple of inches between the front of the car and Keith’s head. It was all over in a flash, in which the driver of the car fainted with fright. Keith had also passed out, but not before seeing a huge, muscular shadow bear down upon him, after which there was just darkness and silence. When Keith came to he found himself indoors, lying on a couch which was surrounded by stacks of packing crates. He was surprised to find he was naked, although a thin sheet had been provided to him for the sake of modesty. The room reeked of the inside of a gym, only the musky odour was way more concentrated. He couldn’t help but inhale deeply. As he regained control of his senses, his surroundings came into sharper relief. Above him was an array of large windows and skylights arranged to let in lots of sunlight. He guessed it to be the apartment warehouse across the street from his flat complex. He wrapped the sheet around his waist as he gingerly got up off the couch. What was going on? Last thing he remembered he was starting to jerk off to the glorious sight of the most gorgeous and most muscular man he’d ever laid eyes on. The rest was a blur. Umberto walked up to him. He’d been in another room in his apartment. A friendly smile adorned his beautiful face, and his muscles rippled with every step he took toward Keith. He was out of his soaked EBFs now, and just wore red spandex knee-length shorts that laced up at the front. His junk was engorged hugely, making it impossible for him to lace them more than halfway up the crotch. His bulging thighs stretched the material to its limit, but it was his genitalia that almost burst it apart. “Welcome back to the waking world. Glad you don’t have a concussion. Well, you don’t seem to anyway,” said Umberto. In each hand he held a can of beer. He offered one to Keith, who took it appreciatively. “Whuh-what’s going on?” The sheet around Keith slipped away as his erection sprung from nowhere at the sight of the enormous bodybuilder. “You don’t remember what happened?” Umberto seemed somewhat surprised that Keith’s mind had blocked out the last hour. “I - I was falling… there was a car?” Keith shrugged his shoulders, unconcerned that he was naked in front of his saviour. “Good job I’m so fuckin’ strong, otherwise you’d be roadkill. I caught that car before it could run you over.” Umberto popped the tab of his beer and took a long swig. He popped up a bicep with the other and the mound of muscle bulged, huge and veined. “I guess I owe you my life. I don’t know how to thank you,” Keith said humbly. “Don’t worry about that. I don’t keep a tab on folks owing me shit. You’re just lucky I was nearby flexing my muscles and getting a free shower on this balmy evening.” Umberto crabbed into a most muscular pose and his body almost tore itself apart as he bulged with size and rock hard density. “This is the converted warehouse apartment on Bridge Street, yeah?” Umberto nodded, and then emptied his beer with another swig. “I live across the street, so I guess that’s lucky,” said Keith, grateful that he didn’t have far to get home, but he hoped he wouldn’t be leaving just yet. “Guess we’re neighbours then. I’m Umberto.” “Kuh-Keith,” said Keith, tentatively sipping his beer. “You have a nice body, Keith. You used to lift? I say ‘used’, ‘cos you look like you haven’t been hitting the weights lately. Once I’m all set up here I’ll have a gym you can use. I’ll leave out some little sissy weights for you. My weight, however… is stuff you could only dream of lifting.” Arrogance returning, Umberto flared into a lat spread that caused Keith’s cock to get even harder. “I played rugby back in college. I did a lot of weight-training but things haven’t been going too well for me lately. I work three jobs just to make the rent and pay off college loans from three years ago. I lost my job two weeks ago, so I’m sort of in the shits.” Keith almost shamefully bowed his head. He stared down at his erect six inches of aroused dick. “Hmm, it’s hard times we’re all living in. I do a lot of shit to make the rent and pay the bills. I’m supposed to be doing nude modelling this evening for a bunch of horny painters. I charge through the nose for my services. But fuck them, you need my intervention, Keith. Besides, I also do online muscle porn, but I charge a fucking fortune. If you set up my computer and cam for me, I’ll pump up with some free weights to get fucking huge for my audience. If you like you can oil me up and play with my muscles on cam. I’ll pay you for your time, of course.” Umberto moved closer to Keith and began to bounce his pecs. The globes of chest muscle were so huge and dense that flexing them actually caused a slight breeze to waft towards Keith’s face. “I… I’ve never been with a… man before,” Keith chewed his bottom lip, hoping it would stop quivering. “Heh heh, well I don’t really count, then. I’m not a man. I’m a god,” Umberto laughed and shot a double biceps pose that made Keith moan with lust and bring him to the verge of jizzing on the spot. A beeping sound from another room diverted both their attention. “Ah, your clothes should be dry now. You pissed yourself back when the car nearly hit you, so I took the liberty of washing your tank top and shorts. I admire a guy like you, who has a lifter's physique under a year or two of sedentary dough, but still manages to pull off a cut-off top and spandex shorts.” Umberto muscle-strutted off to fetch Keith his clothes. Keith just stood there, feeling like he was in the best dream of his life, but that he could wake up at any moment. Umberto came back less than two minutes later, and handed Keith his clothes. “Put them on, leave them off… I don’t mind either.” Then the god of utter and extreme muscular hypertrophy grinned impishly as an idea came to him. He’d thrown his wet EBFs into the dryer along with Keith’s clothes. They still stank of his muscle and testosterone musk, although some of it had passed into Keith’s clothes, hence diluting the stench somewhat. “Try on my sexy muscle slut shorts for size. They should be loose around your thighs and definitely you’ll have plenty of room in the crotch, but the waist might actually be a little tight on you, even though the waistband is missing. I’ve been customising the shit out of these. I wear them in the gym, out doing cardio shit, shopping etcetera. Kinda kinks me out to see them on other guys, no matter how bulked or average they are.” If Umberto had meant to offend Keith, then it was purely for sexy fun. Keith accepted the shorts from the bodybuilder as he felt his lust augmenting. He’d never been with a man before, much less play dressing up with a consenting other. But the shorts smelt nice, as nice as his own clothes the shorts had shared a dryer with. Keith wasn’t in any position to deny Umberto his fun, and so he stepped into the shorts and drew them up his legs and to his waist. They went up like a breeze and Keith was able to button up all but the top button. His abdominal lard wouldn’t allow a full buttoning, and it jiggled as he struggled to get the last one fastened. They were very loose around his thighs and in the crotch. Still though: “Not bad on you, Keith. Maybe the bodybuilding bug will bite you and you can grow and grow and grow. Maybe one day you could be as big as me,” Umberto boasted. He flared out his lats and rolled his deltoids forcing out more size and rock hard magnificence. “What’s with the buttons? You cut away the front panel that conceals them. Kinda interesting. Slutty, yes… very gay, though,” Keith said, regarding the button-fly in a “not sure if I like this” kind of way. “Actually, I didn’t do that part. That was Lee from the supermarket. We were in his manager’s office. I swallowed his cum as a thank you. Huge dick for a skinny bloke. He’s such boyfriend material though. Crazy huh?” Umberto played with his nipples, forcing them to swell to three times their size. “Lee Fordham? He’s my neighbour. I have the flat two floors above his,” said Keith, suddenly remembering that every time he saw his neighbour coming and going, Lee always wore exposed button-fly pants. Obviously Umberto had a kink for that as well. “Yeh, he’s such a hot young twink. I’m taking him out on a date tomorrow, just me and him.” Keith's heart sank. His skinny neighbour had all the luck. Then again, Keith was in Umberto’s apartment, so in that respect he’d gotten his foot in the door first. “Can I take these off now? I’d feel more comfortable in my own clothes when setting up your computer,” said Keith, hoping not to offend the gigantic muscle man. “Yeah, probably a good idea, Keith. Here, give them back to me so I can stink them up again during my workout before we make a porno together for my millions of online adoring fans,” Umberto said with a wink. Keith couldn’t believe his ears. Was Umberto’s intentions for Keith’s benefit? It seemed so. “I… I don’t know what to say. I’m not very experienced, um… what exactly will we be doing on cam?” “Anything you fucking like, sexy man,” beamed Umberto, before strutting over to his rack of weights to pump himself up. “GOTTA GET HUGE!!!!!” He roared, beating his pecs with his fists King Kong style. Keith almost blew a load there and then. “There’s a crate somewhere marked “Nerd Stuff”. Laptop and cam shit is in it.” Keith walked in amongst the crates. He eventually found the right crate on the other side of the spacious dwelling, on top of Umberto’s king size bed. Keith noticed cement blocks underneath the bed to reinforce it. The bodybuilder obviously intended to grow much bigger, so everything had to be reinforced. Over in the gym part of the apartment Umberto heaved and grunted as he got his pump on. There was a desk upon which to place the laptop. Also in the crate was a digicam with microphone and extendable tripod. But as Keith unpacked, he knocked the crate off the bed with the tripod and it tipped over, spewing packing foam nuggets across the floor. “Shit, could I be any clumsier today?” He bent down to pick up the nuggets. Something caught his eye. It was a small ziploc bag containing several greenish-white pills. His curiosity piqued, Keith opened the bag and immediately the strong smell of Umberto’s muscle-musk bodybuilder stink assaulted him. Thinking Umberto was onto him and came over to intervene, Keith looked over his shoulder and saw the giant over at his weights pumping up his muscles and encouraging himself with “Aww fuck yeah!s” in order to bolster more growth. “The smell is coming from the pills,” Keith said quietly. Never in his life had he come across pills that smelled so strongly of pure manliness to the level Umberto exuded. It occurred to him that maybe Umberto didn’t even know the pills had somehow gotten into the packing crate labelled “Nerd Stuff”. Unable to help himself, Keith sealed the bag and slipped it into his denim shorts. it was dishonest of him to do this, given that Umberto had saved his life earlier. But the compulsion was so strong. He put it down to the overwhelming effect being around Umberto was having on him. When the laptop and camera were set up, Keith gingerly approached Umberto to watch him lift and curl. He was curling 550 pounds with each dumbbell. He was glistening with sweat and there wasn’t a vein on his body that wasn’t popping to the point of rupturing. Keith’s eyes nearly came out on stalks. His chubby boner intensified and he felt his balls tingling as they swelled up. “These weights are getting so fucking light. I’m getting stronger by the day, it seems,” Umberto grunted, although realistically the grunting was just for show, as he could’ve lifted much heavier. But his new weights were on order and he’d have to wait a little longer. Lifting at Gridiron was also only for show. The heaviest weights and machine settings felt amateurish to him now. Still though, he did plenty of sets, and so this way maximised his workout as best he could. When he was done pumping his muscles, Umberto checked himself out in a large mirror he’d set up along one of the walls. Keith had to do a double-take when the bodybuilder made a double biceps pose and it seemed like his arms were swelling larger than ever. He changed to a side chest pose causing deep striations to Tsunami across his mega-plump pectorals. Most of his neck and a little of his chin was gobbled up by the heaving bust. His face was stony and emotionless for a moment, until he scowled and blasted a most muscular, squeezing as much blood and testosterone into his muscles as if by force of will alone. “GROW FUCKING GROW!!!!” he chanted. Keith groaned as his lust level shot up. His cock leapt around in his shorts. Umberto oozed more of his signature muscle-stink. Keith drew it in deeply and savoured it. It was like he was smoking a joint, only it felt way better. He briefly thought about the pills again. Could there be a connection? He thought about whenever he’d eat anything with garlic in it, he could smell it in his socks the next day. Now he was thinking about food, and he heard his stomach rumble. Umberto stopped posing, having heard Keith’s noisy churning insides. “Fuck, I never offered you something to eat. You must be starving. I’m starving as well. We can’t do porn on empty stomachs.” In the kitchen Umberto opened the huge American-style fridge. It mostly contained milk, eggs, leftover takeout, some cold fried chicken drumsticks, and several containers of protein shakes ranging from chocolate and vanilla to strawberry. He peeled the clingfilm away from the plate of chicken, and took a sniff. “Phew… we won’t be eating those, they’re off.” But the milk was good and there were plenty of eggs. He rummaged around a little and found some dried parmesan in a container at the back. “I’ll whip us up some omelettes. My Sicilian grandmother taught me a thing or two about Italian cooking. But first…” Umberto took out a container of protein shake and scarfed it down in one impressive gulp. He poured some into a glass for Keith, who was only too keen to accept it. Then Umberto opened a drawer and took out a small ziploc bag identical to the one Keith had found amongst the spilled polystyrene from the crate. He popped into his mouth what seemed to be the last greenish-white pill from the bag and washed it down with more protein shake. Almost immediately Umberto’s muscle-stink intensified to an eye-watering level. “Um… what was the pill, some kind of growth supplement?” Keith hoped he hadn’t crossed a line with Umberto that might set him off in a mood other than hospitable. “For my allergies, nothing more. I must order a refill,” Umberto seemed happy enough to explain. So he won’t miss the bag I swiped. Allergies my arse, Keith thought to himself. What happened next blew Keith Doppler’s mind. Umberto closed his eyes and started drawing in deep lungfuls of air. Keith had to rub his eyes against the now visible miasma of musk rippling out of Umberto’s skin like the heat haze from sun-scorched tarmac. Every muscle on his body started to ripple also, but not as though they were flexing into the forms they had been moulded to. This was more. This was growth. Spontaneous, mind-blowing muscle-growth. Umberto grew bigger right before Keith’s astonished eyes. His naturally golden bronze skin flared red as every blood vessel was flooded with a hypertrophic elixir that caused every muscle to inflate larger than before. But how could his muscles get any larger when there was little room left for them to grow and expand? They already hulked out of every inch of his titanic frame. How could they get bigger? All reason relative to this left Keith’s mind as his lust for muscle-growth in bodybuilders underwent its own growth. Umberto’s upper body bulged obscenely with extra muscle mass, specifically his already massive pecs just ballooned more and more massively. They inched out further than before, wider, becoming more deeply lined and striated. The upper pecs surged upward, gorging on the little free space Umberto had between them and his granite jawline. He smirked a manly smirk of utmost satisfaction and his eyes appeared to be glazed over, as if the transformation had him enthralled by its initiation. Keith was rock hard, now, and so he had to release his manhood. Being a hefty lad himself, at 220+ pounds and standing six feet two inches, he was still tiny compared to Umberto, but his erection didn’t go very far for him. He wished constantly for a massive penis, but had to make the most of what he had. Still, he’d not had a wank since the previous evening, so there was quite a build-up of jizz in his gonads. He began rubbing his dick, feeling the moist precum already lubricating his glans. Umberto’s pecs blossomed hugely, impossible to tell how many extra inches they were adding to his chest. Like the pecs they depended from, his juicy nipples gobbled up the growth energy surging through him, and they grew to three times their size. Incredibly the nipple rings couldn’t deal with the pressure of expanding muscle nubs, and so they simply snapped apart, sending small pieces of gold flying. One piece hit Keith’s cheek, but he barely noticed as his lust rose feverishly. “AW FUCK!!! I’M GETTING HUGE! HUUUUGE!!” Umberto felt his traps expanding, hulking upwards to the point where they actually pushed against his earlobes. Veins erupted all over them, cracking across his shoulders which got wider and wider. His deltoids fumed with mass, rippling and rolling into segmented globes of extreme masculinity. His lats widened further, the delta spread pushing out his arms which fought against the onslaught by bulging more thickly than before. His biceps grew savagely, swelling larger than his head, but still they had to get bigger. Massive horseshoes erupted from the backs of his arms, as his triceps, too, underwent a mammoth transformation. His forearms thickened considerably, pushing out bigger, thicker, and more abundant snaking veins that throbbed with unnatural, godly energy. His waist, in contrast, grew a little narrower as his abdominal brickwork shifted and compacted, expanding, however with size and definition whilst simultaneously tightening up and shaving a whole inch off his waistline. His intercostals burst out further, deepening into fish-scale knots of extremely hard muscle tissue. His shoulder-to-waist ratio increased to an astonishingly beautiful level. He pushed out a full last spread and the lats flared so huge that there was no free space between the lats and his arms, turning his upper body into one huge wall of still-expanding muscle. He was able to heave his pecs up even higher, and he needed to bend his head backwards at his sinewy tree trunk neck to give them room to grow. From Keith’s viewpoint, he could now only see the tip of Umberto’s nose over the titanic horizon of those gorgeous, guzzling globes. Downstairs there was also growth, with Umberto’s hulking junk expanding in size, length and girth, gaining ponderous mass and weight. His balls grew to the size of cantaloupes, and his member thickened and lengthened, flaring red and then purple as the partly laced-up shorts couldn’t bear the strain. From behind, his gluteus muscles thickened, pushed out further, and widened, adding even greater distress to the spandex that struggled to contain all this extra flesh. But they couldn’t. The shorts tore apart, the laces at the front snapped, and several pounds of man junk spilled outward and upward. Umberto was so engrossed in this experience that his boner went instantly rock hard, his dick slamming into his abs wall with a mighty thump. His quads and hamstrings also thickened, with new tissue forming between his muscle fibres, forcing them apart, and allowing extra muscle tissue to form. Likewise, below his knees, his calves thickened and widened, splattered with cuts and veins. He flexed them and they grew to the size of bowling balls. He turned around, knowing Keith would want to see his transformation from behind. His V-taper from behind looked even more spectacular, and Umberto struggled to get his two fists into the proper positions on either side of his waist so that he could belt out the biggest lat spread he’d ever performed. He would have to grow used to overcoming any restrictions of movement affected by his now bigger muscles. But hey, it was all about tasting the sour and the sweet, right? His traps from the back bulged hugely, forming pec-like structures of their own, and making his neck seem to disappear altogether. As he unknotted his muscles by fanning out his back, the spread was insanely enormous. It would be difficult for him to get through a lot of doors from this point forward. With the spandex shorts finally exploding away from him, Umberto was completely nude. He tensed his arse muscles against each other, and deep cuts cracked and rippled across them. He brought up his arms in a double biceps and titanic peaks pushed upward, higher than his fists. At this point Keith lost it, and he shot a sizable gobbet of spunk with enough force to splatter Umberto’s butt. Some of it went in between the hyper-muscled cheeks, moistening the entrance to his hole. “Uunnghhhh,” Keith was in the throes of orgasm, his entire body shuddering with the effort. His growth now slowing considerably, Umberto turned around again to face his guest and hoped to squeeze a little more growth out of his muscles before the transformation ended. He growled and screamed and ordered his body to flex into the biggest most muscular of his life. A couple more inches burst out of his biceps, actually denting deeply into the sides of his pecs, and they, in turn, bulged more outwardly, forced to do so by the amazing pressure the pose applied to them. Many more pounds of muscle bulged out of him, but soon halted altogether. With the breath almost gone from him, Umberto paused to catch it once more. His body glistened with sweat from the effort of holding in his jizz during the metamorphosis, which only he knew at this point was what helped him to attain more growth. Releasing too soon, and the growth process would be less dynamic, resulting in less growth. But he’d had these growth spurts several times now, and he’d learned to execute great control over his libido. He closed his eyes, seeming to meditate for a couple of minutes. Then he relaxed his muscles (although they still looked insanely pumped even when he wasn’t flexing). A serene composure now replaced his previous enragement and cocky demeanour. Silence pervaded. Keith with his shorts down around his ankles, stood looking at Umberto, his six-incher refusing to go back to a flaccid state. “Whuh-what just happened? You… you’re HUGE!!!!” Keith’s question and exclamation came out as a series of gasps. The orgasm caused by watching a gigantic bodybuilder grow even larger left him spent. But muscle-growth is not meant to happen this way. Keith thought about the pills he’d swiped. They were in his shorts pocket. He stooped to pull back up the pants. Umberto immediately went to the fridge to get another protein shake. He decided Keith deserved an explanation. He’d never grown to a spectator present before, not even on cam or during his modelling work for the artists. “About six months ago, I didn’t look like this.” Umberto paused to drink the rest of the shake. He chose his next words carefully. “I had a physique quite similar to yours, only… with less muscle mass under the fat than what you have.” He paused again, this time to let Keith process what he was hearing. Keith began to shake his head in order to punctuate his sheer disbelief. “You did all this in just six months? And just now, right in front of me you look like you added another hundred pounds, maybe more. This happened right after you swallowed your so-called ‘allergy’ pill.” “A hundred pounds? Hmm, feels like more. Let me look at myself in the mirror.” Umberto muscle-waddled across the apartment to his gym area, finding his gait somewhat awkward as his even thicker thighs rolled and jostled against each other in an effort to propel him. When he saw his reflection in the mirror: “Dayum! Looks like a lot more than a hundred pounds this time.” He made a full lat spread and two huge globes of pec meat ballooned and bulged obscenely. His entire upper body bulged hugely. It was actually difficult for him to fully take in his size holding this pose because of having to bend his head back at the neck every time in order to give his pecs enough room. “Jeezus H, I’m enormous. Truly fucking HUGE!” Keith stood next to him and both gazed in awe at their reflections. Umberto was three inches taller than Keith, but he now probably outweighed him by a good five hundred pounds, maybe more. The contrast between their physiques was staggering. “How is this possible?” Keith was stuck for something further to say. Even though he’d shot a big load, his dick was getting aroused once again. It was impossible to stay flaccid when in the company of a muscle god. “I work lots of jobs. My body gets me a lot of attention. It started six months ago when I had a growth spurt overnight. The day before my eighteenth birthday. I sup—” “Wait, you’re only EIGHTEEN?” Keith interjected, convinced Umberto was at least in his late twenties. He was so huge and masculine, his goatee perfectly sculpted, still young-looking facially, but he looked nothing like a teenager. “Well, eighteen and a half now, I suppose. I know, I look a lot older, but in a good way, of course. It’s my condition.” Umberto bounced his pecs and appeared in awe of their extra weight. It was a chore to get his hands up to caress them, due to his new, larger biceps pushing against his even heftier forearms. Simply bringing his hand up to attempt this caused biceps, pecs, and forearms to collide. It was an amazing feeling, as though the muscles might force each other to explode at any moment. “Wonder what happened to my nipple rings. I’ll have to look around for them. Probably need bigger, stronger ones now though.” Then Keith remembered they were destroyed, pushed apart by burgeoning nipples hungry to get longer, thicker, and more succulent. He felt the mark where the piece of gold had struck his face. Thankfully no blood had been drawn. “Your condition? You mean, your allergy?” “I was born with metazeniosis. It’s a man-made condition. My father took part in a hush hush military experiment over twenty years ago, but it was deemed a failure. Being Italian he was selected from about fifty candidates. There needed to be a lot of genetic diversity in the candidates, and so young, fit men were selected from all over the world. “But the experiment failed. It was meant to make the men into supermen, a new breed of soldier with physical enhancements beyond what nature could provide. But it didn't work. The test subjects didn’t respond to the treatments. All research on the project was destroyed, and records erased. The only knowledge remaining was in the mind of the lead scientist, Cyrus Redfern, who years later – or rather because of what happened later – was forced to further his research, this time without any ties to the military. “Not all of the candidates went on to father children, but over half did. I was one of the children born with the enhancements denied my father and his generation. The metazenic chromosomes I was born with should have kick started my muscle-growth from the onset of puberty. I was something of a late bloomer. The ones that this happened to at the right time were at the beginning of puberty, and so their growth was greatly helped along by so much growth hormone coursing through their veins. This helped them get huge from an earlier age, and to grow a lot taller, too.” Umberto now carried himself with a calm demeanour. He could think more clearly when not cocky and self-obsessed. It appeared that Umberto had a reserved side to him, in stark contrast to the alpha male arrogance he displayed when showing off his muscles, pumping the weights, and achieving spontaneous growth spurts. He continued: “We’re all pretty tall in my family. My dad is about the same height as you. I was six one when the first growth spurt happened, but I guess at eighteen, puberty had pretty much finished doing a number on me, although I did gain about four inches in height. But I haven’t grown any taller since.” Umberto went quiet to allow Keith to keep up with his amazing revelation. He had planned to tell all this to Lee over dinner tomorrow, but Keith reminded him a lot of himself before the muscle-growth. It seemed fate had intervened, coaxing him to reveal his big secret to another. “So there are others like you, all around the world?” It was the most incredible thing to observe Umberto’s ability, and even more incredible to learn how it came to be. He thought again about the pills. If Umberto was born with this condition, then what did the pills do? “Yep, about forty or so, as some of them will not have entered puberty yet. Not all of our dads fathered kids at the same time. I’m the only one in this country though, although I spent some of my younger years growing up in Turin. But bodybuilders here are getting bigger over time anyway. More and more crazy shit, like HGH boosters, and myostatin blockers, are circulating under counters and on the web. It’s a dangerous journey for a bodybuilder to take, but the desire to grow often overtakes the risks. “I won’t bore you with too many details. The rest is kinda boring. The lead scientist came into a fortune and used it to further his research into the condition, even enhancing it to make men bodybuild to even greater sizes with and without effort. I prefer a mixture of both. In order to track us down, the Redfern Institute now running the program set up special gyms all over the world to attract the biggest, most muscular bodybuilders on the planet. A bit controversial, in that you have to be at least two eighty in weight to get accepted as a member. “Of course, metazenic bodybuilders such as myself were attracted to these places like moths to UV lamps. You have one right here in town.” “Gridiron,” Keith again interjected, wishing that one day he could be big enough to lift there. “Yeah,” Umberto nodded, “It’s a bit controversial ‘cos it can be seen as discriminatory, I guess. Originally the membership minimum weight requirement was four hundred pounds, but they gradually lowered it, giving ordinary bodybuilders the chance to get big enough to join.” “Sounds like a smokescreen to something sinister,” Keith offered as commentary. “It’s not sinister at all. Just a company trying to right the wrongs of its past. We’re no longer being created to fight on battlefields. Our muscle-growth has tremendous medical applications. The institute is looking into eradicating many diseases, like muscular dystrophy and other wasting conditions.” Keith nodded in favour of such terrible diseases finally getting cured. But he had a myriad of questions he wanted answers to. They all swirled around in his head, giving him a mild headache. “So what’s your allergy that has you taking pills, which you seem to have run out of?” Keith thought about pretending to find a pill on the floor and offering it to Umberto, to see if it would trigger further muscle-growth. “Well, it’s not an allergy in the truest sense of the word. But they help maintain a certain balance when I grow. All the other metazenic bodybuilders continue to grow taller as they gain muscle mass. It means that they maintain the same proportions as regular bodybuilders, just that they look larger. There are a few that have even exceeded eight feet in height, but their muscle mass is proportionate to, say, a super-heavyweight Mister Olympia contestant. “But I don’t grow taller. So the pills were specially developed to help regulate the growth process so I don’t fill out in the wrong places as my muscles continue to grow. Without them I could end up being wider than I am tall, and I’d probably be unable to move.” “So what triggered the growth spurt after you popped the pill?” “I felt it coming on. They can happen sometimes if my testosterone levels get too high. Also by swallowing other men’s cum. It kinda mixes with my own and can trigger a growth spurt. They mostly happen after a workout and when I’m sleeping, but I guess this one was a mixture of a couple of things. I shot a huge load in the showers over at Gridiron earlier, then later swallowed Lee’s load. The Redfern Institute believes I can sometimes trigger muscle-growth just by thinking about it. I dunno,” Umberto shrugged. His delts and traps heaved with size and power. “Plus I kinda like having you here watching me pump up, ‘cos I sense how you envy my body and would kill to have one like mine.” “Wow, I – I don’t know what to say, Umberto. Was I that obvious?” “Heh, you can see in your eyes your lust for muscle is so strong. I always dreamed of being a bodybuilder, ever since I was a kid. I guess my enhanced genetics gave me that longing from early on. I started lifting weights at fourteen, hoping it would trigger puberty, but I’d usually drop the weights after a few dismal minutes, in favour of my game controller. So I was something of a doughboy myself.” Umberto leaned forward to playfully pat Keith’s spongy gut, causing the smaller man to reflexively step back a little. “Sorry, I er… wasn’t expecting you to do that, Umberto,” Keith said, sheepishly. “It’s okay, as you can see, I’m calmer now. After a growth spurt as great as this one, I usually leave the alpha male cockiness behind for a while, although it can come back at any time. It’s just… my muscles get me so aroused. Then it kicks in again.” Umberto resolved to learn better self-control from now on. Keith needed to know more: “About the pills; when you swallowed that last one your body started giving off a haze, like sweat evaporating quickly. And the smell of it was sensational. Your muscle musk is beyond intoxicating.” Keith had gotten the same smell from the bag of pills he’d found when he spilled the packing crate earlier. Was Umberto even aware of this? How could he know the pills gave off the same reek as he did if he was constantly producing it himself? “Yeah, it drives most men crazy, heh heh. Doesn’t affect women though, but I’m gay anyway, so I really couldn’t give a fuck about women. I don’t have any female friends. I have two sisters though, both back in Italy. They’re nurses. We get on okay. I’ve always been open to them about my growth. They know it’s not my fault.” Umberto made his pectorals dance for fun. He loved how much heavier they felt as they hung over his impressive eight-pack, casting crescent shadows over the top four bricks. “So the pills, in a way, do enhance your growth. Would they work on a man who doesn’t have your ability?” Keith was dying to know this. Would the pills work on him? Could they give him the body of his dreams? “Um… maybe, a little. I dunno really. I’m not au fait with much of the science behind it. I did see Redfern do a trial on them a couple of months ago. I go there once a month for check-ups to make sure there are no abnormalities with my growth, and/or negative reactions to the meds. “But with regard to the trial, the results were hardly anything better than a steroid cycle. Some men grew about ten pounds of muscle and also lost body fat in the space of a few days. But the pills aren’t meant to be taken altogether by men that were born normal. You need to only take one every seven days. I have to take one every night, in case I have an uncontrollable growth spurt in my sleep and wake up wider than my bed. I can also take one when I feel a growth spurt coming on just like the one I took in front of you. Which reminds me, I need to get more pills couriered over from the Institute a.s.a.p. I thought I had another bag of them, but they got lost in the move.” Umberto half-strutted, half-waddled, over to his phone to speed-dial The Redfern Institute. Keith tried to hide his excitement. So the pills COULD make him grow muscle. If he was careful not to overdo it, he could finally increase his lean muscle mass as well as burn off his stubborn reserves of fat. Umberto believed the bag to be lost, so he wouldn’t miss them. Keith thought about popping one right now. But he decided to wait until he was home by himself in his flat. Besides, wasn’t there gonna be some porn later? He’d lost all track of time. He looked up at the skylight windows. Dusk approached, as the sun worked its way to the west and was beginning to set. It had been a day Keith wouldn’t soon forget, if ever. As for the evening, well… *** John the bodybuilder stood in front of his full-length mirror fixed to the back of his bathroom door. Like the rest of his shitty apartment the bathroom was dingy and even foul in places. He wasn’t big on cleaning, and really only slept there when he wasn’t working or going to the gym, which suited the cockroaches perfectly. He was completely naked so that he could survey what hard work and too much juicing had done to his body. He still looked good, or so he thought. Women still “digged” him, and he had no problem getting all the pussy he needed. The problem was, thanks to steroid abuse, he needed help ‘getting it up’. Thirty years old and needing Viagra. What a joke his life had become. He was massively in debt, working for his cunt brother, and to top it off, his acne was spreading as fast as his testicles were shrinking. His pecs had developed gynecomastia, and that bothered him even more. He reached for the tattered remnant of Umberto Morelli’s shirt and inhaled its musky odour. He snorted the shirt like he sometimes snorted coke. The odour worked its way into his system, the effect of which actually made his eyes water. How could a garment hold such a strong smell? He’d heard of Umberto Morelli, but never met him or saw him in the flesh. There were plenty of pics of him on the internet, though, but 99 percent of the comments they got were from sceptics who believed the pics to be morphed. But the shirt told a story to John via his senses, and so he smelt it again and again. It was intoxicating. It was the smell of a bodybuilder, possibly the most densely muscled bodybuilder to ever exist. It was the smell of lifting hundreds of pounds of weight thousands of times; it exuded the essence of a man determined to grow bigger and bigger. His sweat screamed of this desire. His musk radiated determination at its most masculine. His testosterone quadrupled the strength of the man-stink. And it also reeked of his spunk, and, most likely, that of other Gridiron members. Lesser bodybuilders compared to Umberto, but still huge men in their own right if John were to compare himself to them. How many of these demi-gods had splashed the shirt with their own essences as they whacked off uncontrollably to the beat of Umberto Morelli pumping himself up in their gym? How much of their own sweat had rubbed off on the shirt whenever the god brushed past them as he moved about the gym on his insatiable journey of growth and power? Every day Umberto would pump up larger and stronger as he broke his records from the previous day surrounded by awestruck muscle-men who could only dream of even reaching half the size of the monster muscle-god. The shirt told all of this to John through touch and smell alone. It had transcended the mundane, no longer a piece of sweat-sodden fabric to be discarded and forgotten. It was a tapestry of power at its most primal and unsophisticated. It could absorb freakish, bodybuilding masculinity as readily as it could exude it. In this way it almost felt like it had a lifeforce of its own. The smell overwhelmed John, and so he feverishly rubbed the shirt across his chest. For the first time in ages, his dick started hardening without the need of medication. He grew more excited as his arousal intensified. John kept rubbing the shirt harder and harder into his chest until the acne pimples mottling his pecs began to ooze. He didn’t care; he was so turned on now. He continued to salve himself with the shirt using his left hand. He used his right hand to masturbate, something he hadn’t done since the steroids determined he couldn’t without a lot of help. He thought about being the biggest and strongest bodybuilder ever to exist, and this only made his arousal much greater. Before he could stop himself, he messed up all over his abs as he shot a torrent of jizz out of his hitherto near-stagnant prick. The air in the room was now saturated with Umberto’s muscle-musk, making it hard to breathe. The wank had winded him, and so John reached for his asthma inhaler, something he’d been using since childhood. It was after midnight when he got into bed, and it didn’t take long for him to settle. He was soon asleep, the chequered remains of a blue, navy and white shirt lying across his imperfect pecs.
  2. FallenAway

    The Shortcut by LORUS

    Once again, with the author's permission, I am reposting a story he wrote for the old forum and later deleted. Fortunately, I saved a copy. This was probably written around 2007, so when dates are mentioned in the story, remember that those were all in the future when it was written. Short Cut by LORUS Part 1 There was no other way out of the bunker. I knew that if I were ever to see the light of day again, I would have to get bigger. The walls were six feet thick, concrete reinforced with tungsten girders. A hundred elephants might be able to do it, or else one of me... Todd Emery, world’s strongest muscleman. But not strong enough. Not yet anyway. I was going to have to bodybuild my way out. It was all that I knew how to do. Let me put this into context, although words were never my forty... or is it forte? Who cares? Professor Maximillian LeStrange, for all that he looked and behaved like some Bond-esque megalomanic, was an okay fellah. We all knew that the bombs were dropping. It was 2012, the year that the Mayan calendar ran out, that the mysterious Planet Nibiru (or Planet X) was purported to be entering the solar system once again on its 12,000 year cyclic rotation, passing close enough to the sun to cause a massive solar flare to burn up the Earth’s atmosphere and set the planet’s poles to utter reversion, the same year that the antichrist would be revealed (my money’s still on Joan Rivers) ... et cetera et cetera. I never believed any of that crap. I can’t recall who was to blame, really, North Korea or a trigger-happy dissident hothead from behind the Chinese Curtain who happened to get his hands on some very nasty nuclear launch codes. Whatever caused it, the world ended on December 19th, 2012, five years ago this very week. And thanks to Professor LeStrange one Todd Emery survived. The bunker had been one of several the billionaire scientist had had commissioned in private, part of his ADAM Utopia Initiative. It was his way of preserving all that was great about the human race. In one bunker there would be females for breeding stock purposes, mostly lesbians, but stay with me on this. Maximillian (let’s just refer to him as Max from here on) ... Max believed that heterosexuals had fucked up the world, and maybe he was correct in his thinking, I dunno. I wouldn’t call myself an expert on humanity. But in his post-nuclear holocaust utopia, gay men would inherit the earth, with occasional but mandatory breeding privileges with the more athletic of the dykes. You see... the future Human Race would have a great deal of adversity to overcome, so it made sense to have it as healthy and resilient as possible. My bunker was meant to be extra special, for I was the Alpha Male, wired up to a series of contraptions that allowed me to tap into the untold reserves of brain power that most humans allow to go to waste. Mind over body was the future bodybuilding catalyst that would make men into superman... nay ultra-supermen. I was one such ultra... a bodybuilding archetype for a new future. Unfortunately, to block out so much mental static from my subterranean compatriots I had to be in isolation for at least a year. I was okay with that, Max’s billions ensured that my underground tomb was anything but a tomb. It was fully air-conditioned, using a recycling system that gave me constant fresh air and clean water. It had hydroponics and a farm manned by hunky young studs that I constantly turned to for sexual stimulation, not to mention plenty of hot muscle worship and even hotter sex. They saw me as their god, and I was completely okay with that. But cabin fever, even though I had access to twenty-five thousand square feet of space, gets you in the end. Five years of being stuck in the one place, even though it was as idyllic as money could make it, was too horrid to bear. I didn’t want to lose my mind, because if I did, there was no telling what a man of my size, strength and power could do. I must sleep soon but let me tell you a little about a typical day for me. I wake up at 7am every day, at least I think it’s 7am. Very hard to tell the time of day when all you have to look at are artificial computer-generated vistas tricking you into thinking there is a savory world beyond so many sterile windows. I spend a good hour or so posing in front of the many mirrors throughout the complex. I need to see myself constantly, to remind myself just how amazing, how... oh God.... fuck yeah.... how unbelievably huge I am. But not huge enough. I need to get way bigger if I’m to stand a chance of breaking out of here, digging through the collapsed tunnel that connects with the other “vaults”, and finally reintegrating myself into Max’s incredible collective: all gay men, all athletes, thinkers, scientists, doctors... you name it... he has ‘em all. And let’s not forget the lesbians. Back to me and my muscles.... damn! I’m overwhelmed. Fuck this recollecting for now, I’ll get back to it later. Right now, we are all in need of some incredible muscle action. Let me introduce you to Peter, one of my “boys” who tends farm over in Sector Eight. His specialty is bovine maintenance. But he is so pretty to the eyes, blonde haired, bronze skin, and blue eyes... your typical California surfer dude-type. I never allow my guys to wear anything but faded, ripped Levi’s jeans. They go shirtless throughout their working days, and then after... they wear nothing at all. Peter is my favorite. “Come to me, hot stuff.” “Sure Todd.” “You like what you see as I tense up my arms before you?” “I’m so boned for you right now, Todd.” Peter is enthusiastic and angelic, but the sexiest, by far, of all my guys. “Describe what you see before you, Peter... height, weight, the whole deal.” “You seem taller today, much bigger than yesterday, Todd.” Peter is massaging his ball-sack through his jeans as he speaks. His super-trim waist seems to emphasize his hips and what he has between them. His Levi’s always seem to tent out at the front. My cock twitches at the merest thought of him. “What do you mean “much bigger”? I’ve been working out harder than ever!” My tone is vehement. Peter – although my golden boy – must know his place and never say things that disappoint me. “Sorry Todd. You aren’t much bigger... you’re a LOT more than much bigger,” corrects Peter. “That’s better. Look at my flexing biceps... each bigger than your head.... get over here and start doing things to them... and to yourself as you go.” “Fuck yes... I can’t even get my hands around those thick, muscled mounds. They’re HUGE! Fuck, I’m so jizzing for you any minute, Todd!” Peter’s gorgeous, toned chest is heaving now, his breathing excited, becoming more so. And this is just the beginning. He’s squeezing my massive, flexed biceps as I hold the pump in each. His fingers can’t dent the muscle, diamond-hard muscle that keeps getting bigger, harder.... STRONGER!!!!! It’s not enough to break out yet, but I’m getting there. I continue to flex a double biceps, forcing more blood to flow into veins that never seem to be too engorged. They squirm and pulsate like great leeches under my skin, but this is not an unattractive image, rather the contrary. My striations and vascularity are unprecedented... and I can only get bigger, stronger, and better looking. “Your upper arms have easily passed thirty-two inches, Todd. That’s amazing.” Peter’s boner is now more pronounced. His cock easily passes ten inches hard. He is meant to be part of a new race of man, and these men will always be proud of their peckers. No place for needle-dicks here. Of course, my cock easily surpasses his by at least five more inches. And it’s still growing in proportion with my massively muscular body. “How thick is your chest, Peter?” “You already know my dimensions, Todd!” “Tell me again,” I growl, demandingly. He must oblige. There is no free will in my bunker. I won’t allow it, for I am cocky to a fault; I am the Alpha... the biggest... the strongest... the GREATEST!!! “My chest is a slim thirty-eight, Todd. I have a slender but very attractive fit body,” Peter tells me. “You think I can get my biceps up past thirty-eight, bigger than your fucking chest?” “Unnngh,” pants Todd, his massive trouser snake threatening to pop the buttons on his fly and spit precum all over his muscle master. “Of course, you can... and then you can get them even bigger.” Hearing this causes me to beam with delight, growl in a most-masculine way, and flex harder, causing more blood to fucking scream into my biceps with such pressure and velocity. My bicep cannons explode with deadly force. Both biceps grow even more. I can’t believe this growth. It’s incredible. I bring my arms down to my side and then place knuckles on either side of me, above my hips. I burst out a massive lat-spread, my body transforming, bulging upwards and outwards into a gigantic delta of rock hard, mesmerizingly defined muscle flesh. I bend my head backwards so that my neck thickens and thickens, cords bulging out of it as I need to get my chin out of the way so my upper pec-shelf can thicken and expand. All the while I do this, Peter’s hands are forcibly working their way across my chest, fingertips rising and falling in and out of multiple thick and deep striations. They linger around my sensitive nipples, teasing the buds bigger and harder. They redden from his touch and from so much blood nurturing them. “Go down along my massive torso. Tell me what you’re feeling,” I bark. “It’s like nothing else on Earth, Todd. Your body is Utopia. You must be easily 800 lbs. or more. But you need to be over 1000 lbs. to stand a chance of getting us out of there. I feel tiny before you, my god. But you must get bigger... make me feel tinier, more insignificant. Make me want to worship you even more!” “I give the orders, not you, runt!” “Sorry Todd. It won’t happen again.” “What are my abs like?” “Harder than concrete... a perfect ten-pack, striations deep enough to hide coins in, if coinage meant anything these days.” “Gotta get them bigger, harder... way more defined. I need to hide saucers in them, not coins.” “You will, my god. You will!” “Remove my pants!” I too wear Levi’s, only modified by our in-house tailors, for no ordinary pair would come close to fitting me. My waist is thirty-four inches, but my thighs are each almost forty-one around. My tailors do excellent work. Peter gets down on his knees and begins to unbutton my jeans, relieving some of the pressure in front of my swelling genitals. I never wear underpants; there never seems to be enough room for my junk if I do. I haven’t washed since my last workout. My scent down there is warm, cloying. Peter recoils a little as a cloud of my musk affronts him briefly. Then he accepts it. My trouser snake uncoils before him, easily springing to attention. “Fuck... it’s bigger, thicker than it was last time we did this.” Peter looks worried. Will he be able to take all this meat in its entirety? My snakehead is already leaking its venom, only my venom doesn’t poison... it invigorates. “Take my dick into your mouth... gorge on its massiveness.” “I will...er... gag violently, Todd.” “Do you best not to,” I snarl. Peter does as he’s told, his hand groping me from behind, just about able to work its fingers into the deep crack between two massive muscle-mounds that form my bubble-ass. With his other hand he works at his own impressive member, all the while deep-throating me to the best of his ability. He moans with bliss, breathing through his nose to maintain a steady supply of oxygen. “Unngh feels so good, Peter. You are taking all my muscle-meat. Good man!” “Akkkk....ghhhhhk,” he returns, unable to speak for now. I am content to hear those sounds as he struggles to please me. But there is just so much to me... I’m constantly growing, the hugest bodybuilder ever, about to get even huger. “Aw man... you know how to.... gasp... please your master,” I almost scream, as his teeth scrape along the shaft of my so-thick cock, his tongue near-constantly assaulting the sensitive buds around the skirt of the mushroom head. It throws my senses into utter reverie. I cry out, guttural, masculine... dominant. Precum dribbles in constant miniature rivers out of Peter’s mouth, squeezed from each corner. Soon he is kneeling in a small pool of the stuff. I know that as soon as I cum for real, that I will experience a vital growth spurt. How much I grow depends on how well Peter succeeds at pleasing me. Part 2 And so, Peter continues to please me, for as I’ve already mentioned, he is my favorite. I often think about how much more pleasing to me he would be if he were in possession of muscles as huge and powerful as mine. But I cannot allow anyone to get as big as me. I must be the biggest and the strongest. Peter has this trick he does when sucking off my huge cock. We only discovered he could do it less than a month ago. LeStrange is a little concerned that his utopian muscle studs have begun to evolve in ways other than muscular development. So far Peter is the only one to undergo the merest metamorphosis, but can it be put down to radiation leaking into the vaults through some hairline fracture in the superstructure? Peter has a bifurcate tongue... like a snake’s, but he can also zip it up to look and act like a normal tongue. But now... now I want the snake in his mouth to do amazing things to the super-serpent that is my monster dick. “Time to slither that fucker in, you delicious young hunkling,” I gasp and snarl all at once, my bliss ever rising to near fever pitch. “Anything for you, amazing man,” Peter returns, also gasping. He unzips his tongue, the tip dividing into two prong-like appendages. He can do great things with these. He withdraws most of my thick, wet cock from his capacious mouth, but not all the way, concentrating his efforts on the bulbous head, and specifically the slit through which magic is wont to flow. At first, he teases the sensitive mushroom head, expertly manipulating it between the fleshy ‘limbs’ of his split tongue with great care and expertise. Every muscle in my body is flexed to near-bursting point. I need to hold in every pump I’ve given my muscles during my recent workouts. My body is like no other; my muscles can remain pumped for up to a week at a time. But then, knowing my lust for muscle-growth, I need to build on those held-in pumps, flexing further, harder, and stronger, lifting heavier and heavier all the time for short reps: pumps on top of fucking pumps. Think of the best orgasm you ever had in your life... then multiply that feeling by fifty and THAT’S what it feels like to be me with muscles more pumped than an entire football team before the game, or even holding in pressure greater than a volcano that threatens to erupt but never quite manages it. I am a volcano of muscle, but only Peter can really make me blow my top. “Unnnngh.... sooooooo gooood, Peter.... rape my muscle cock with your amazing tongue,” I yell. Okay, so some of you might think: ewwww, what a terrible image. But Peter can make poetry out of a funeral dirge, trust me on this. He handles me expertly, with unprecedented loyalty. He is irrevocably bonded to me. He lives for me.... he would surely give his life to grow me further. One of the tongue-splits gently works itself into the slit of my cock, exciting nerve-endings that cause my entire body to shudder and then stiffen into a palsy of pain and bliss rolled into one. When your body is subjected to both sensations at once, madness may result, only my mind can make sense of both paroxysms, manipulating them, bending them to my will, so that within seconds I am feeling the greatest sexual high ever felt by a living creature. Peter’s tongue works into me further. Now I am violated, only I want it so much. I know that I shall erupt not only with insane amounts of hot, sweet jism, but my muscles shall grow like they’ve never grown before. I know this, and so does Peter. When I get big enough and strong enough, I will be able to break us all out of this maddening isolation and eventually rejoin the ADAM society as we were meant to. We were never meant to remain out of the equation for so long. Peter is excited; I can feel his excitement thundering through his taut, beautiful flesh and into me. I welcome it. I also welcome the feeling of my massive balls swelling so huge inside their skin sack so that the skin is stretched so tight it shines. My gonads swell and throb bigger than baseballs, and all the while they do - still with his bifurcate tongue doing incredible things to the tip of my cock - Peter’s expert fingers massage and fondle my balls with complete lack of restraint. No place for restraint here, not when I’m about to achieve the greatest muscle growth of my life. I can feel it elevating, inflating inside me almost like a separate persona about to overwhelm the real me. So what if I lose to it... that my muscles should become the dominant power in my life. I don’t care.... I just want to get huger than I could ever have dreamed possible. It’s about to happen, I can feel myself swelling, thickening, and getting taller, wider, and heavier. Oh man, this is incredible. I’m going to get HUUUUGE!!!!!! Peter removes my cock from his mouth just seconds before I blow my massive load. He knows that if he doesn’t take care he could get injured from the intensity of the blast, I’m that strong. He gets out of the way and begins to play with his cock in anticipation of the spectacle we both know is about to happen. I scream out, unable to contain my bliss as every muscle in my body unites in a tremendous spasm that powers the flow of my cum-blast. Out of my hugely stimulated cock, a jet of hot, steaming spunk erupts and shoots across the room. The jet strikes a metal locker on the far side of the room with force enough to dent it inwards. The force of the collision sends cum splashing in all directions. The mess shall be considerable. The orgasm seems ceaseless, the gush of my juice without end. Every time I cum like this, there seems to be more and more of the stuff, as my ability to hold onto the orgasm improves with every emission. I can cum for ages if I need to. I need to now. Peter, too, is desperate to cum, but I have taught him to hold it in unless I command him to erupt. Caught up in my own incredible orgasm, I cannot be concerned about what he is feeling at this time, but I can imagine it can’t be pleasant for him... pleasure and pain all at once (welcome to my world), the desperate need to shoot his own load, only I will not allow it... not yet. He will cum when I reach the pinnacle of my growth cycle... ...which is about to happen... I am engulfed in a rush of heat, my orgasm still raging through me and out of me, every surface in my domicile getting sticky with my liquid protein. For a moment I do not like the feeling, because I liken it to someone’s head exploding from too much of a blood-pressure build-up. So, I placate this feeling with expert mental manipulation... once again tapping into the amazing power of my ever-developing brain. No place for mental dormancy here... not in this utopia. Ah, but the true utopia of man’s utter survival and future can be epitomized and given a body by my tremendous powers of transformation. Once the heat subsides in my body, all my muscles, veins, arteries, organs, even skin, everything that I am: my utmost fabric, throbs and groans as everything shifts and swells. My growth isn’t a gradual stream of growth either. It happens in multi-spurts, powered by dominant heartbeats. My growth happens to all my muscles simultaneously. I don’t just grow... I fucking EXPLODE!!!!!! A nearby computer scans me as I grow... my vitals and measurements project onto my body in scintillating red laser characters, cast out of several spherical beam emitters that hover almost invisibly around me. My chest expands massively, the bones of my ribcage cracking and stretching with newfound pliability as they move out in every direction to make room for more and more growth. My pecs blow up like feeding amoebae, gorged on matter greater than their starving masses can comfortably accommodate. My pecs glut on growth and power, laser-cast numerals etch across my skin in bold crimson relief: “74 inches” .... “76 inches” ... “81 inches” .... like a neon tickertape, one that can barely keep up with my searing, soaring growth. “Uhh, the feeling is amazing,” I gasp, my body seething, sweating, palpitating with metamorphic power. All the while I grow, Peter continues to moan with reverie of his own, although he shall not falter and succumb to cumming until I say it’s okay to do so. Our bond is unbreakable... it cannot be denied. I also realize that I am becoming smarter, my command of syntax and structure improving all the time. Below my ever-deepening, ever-thickening overweight pecs, crescent moons of darkest shadow are cast, growing longer and downwards, hiding some of the thick cobblestone mosaic formed of my ab-bellies. To some they would be dismayed that one massive muscle group should so blatantly swell to conceal the magnitude of another, but in this case, I welcome it. My favorite muscles will always be my pecs, and so I want them bigger, heavier, way more defined, and with striations deep enough to hide one of Peter’s ever-roaming hands. Laser beams fire diminishing measurements across the brickwork of my stomach, numbers ‘ticker-taping’ in decreasing increments in contrast to the ever-increasing dimensions occurring elsewhere across my incredible and hyper-sexy jizzed-out physique: “36 inches” … “34 inches” ... “33 inches”. My waist now stabilizes at a waspish 32 inches. I could not be happier, more fucking boned by my unprecedented measurements. But even as my waist tightens, so my ab bricks become harder, denser, the laser light rising and dipping as it travels across my abdomen, occasionally being swallowed up by the deep and dark gullies separating each belly from its brothers, only to reappear bright and bold across my glistening, musky skin. I flex my abs and intercostals, tightening my waist further. Veins erupt across my stomach, my Apollo’s belt thickening and deepening to mesmerizing proportions, now festooned with highways of interconnecting vessels through which protein-charged blood, testosterone and adrenaline mix and surge. I momentarily gasp at the new size, weight, and thickness of my muscle-tits. “Puh-pleeese, Todd.... let me cum.... I (gasp)... cannot maintain it much longer,” appeals Peter. But I am resolute in my command of him. He will cum only when I allow it. As I play with the heft and depth of my pecs, I tease out my nips, tweaking them hard so that they expand, thicken and surge hugely on the massive balloon-pecs to which they provide crowning glory. As I grow faster and faster, completely caught up in the ecstasy of my evolution, I squeeze the hulkish brutes of my breast muscles together, forcing the striations across each to deepen and darken... more blood coursing into every tissue fiber, and my nips to grow huger, thicker, twice the circumference of a man’s thumb. I want more growth.... “More......I want MORE!!!!!!!!!!! RAAAAWWWWWR!!!!” My exultation is almost pantomime in its delivery, for it, too, is an empowerment, one that shall fuel my growth further and further. I crab down into a most muscular, forcing more and more growth and nourishment into my muscles, now my arms more so. The laser light numerals dwell on my biceps for a time, recoding their increase in size as I flex them into the biggest muscle-balls a man shall ever sport... until I decide I want them even bigger again.... “38 inches” … “41 inches” … “46 inches” ... FIFTY FUCKING INCHES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My arms are now bigger than my thighs were before my growth; my forearms now almost match the width of my thighs at the outset of this transformation. I squeeze out more definition and size, leaning into the flexing, so that my vast bodyweight pushes against the muscle growth, causing even more of a growth reaction. The muscles of my legs heave and ripple with the most effortless of exertions. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, delighting at the feeling of how easily my legs take my weight as it shifts left to right. I want more and more.... this is incredible. It must NEVER end, not if I stand a chance at bodybuilding my way out of this annex. And then, even as I struggle to see over the massive promontory that has become of my chest wall, I can feel as well as just about make out, the awesome expansion of my monster dick. The scanners are struggling to keep up with recording my fast and furious muscle growth. And there is more to explore, but as the computer shuts down into diagnostic mode to reboot, I know that I am still not done with growing, not by a massive amount yet. “Have to.... cuh-cum, Tuh-Todd,” tears now streaming from the eyes of an imploring Peter. I could do with an infusion of protein right about now... to further fuel my growth. I lick my lips in yearning anticipation. “Come to me.... CUM into me!!!!!” I command. And so, he tends to me as I continue to increase in size and weight and awesome muscularity. My weight has exceeded 1000 lbs., but I still feel small, even though I now tower over the one who is most bonded to me. As I hulk out a hundred more pounds of thick, manly muscle onto my gigantic bodybuilder’s frame, I effortlessly pick up Peter, feeling him to be weightless in my hands, I’m now THAT strong. As his body begins to jerk from the spasms of orgasm, I lift his stiff, engorged prick to my hungry lips and taste of the sweet juice he is powerless to keep as his own. ******************************** This is all there is. I don't know if this was meant to be the first part of a longer story, or if it was meant to be a "cum quickie" and end here. I think it works well as it stands.
  3. FallenAway

    David's Day by LORUS

    Once again, with the author's permission, I am reposting a story he wrote for the old forum and later deleted. Fortunately, I saved a copy. Some of the pop culture references may be a little dated, especially for younger readers, but that shouldn't get in the way. There are two parts to the original story and a sequel called David's End of Days. I will post all of those in this thread. Enjoy! David's Day by LORUS Part 1 of 2 7:00 am: The alarm always went off at 7am. David Driscoll, like every morning would awaken to the 1979 disco hit “Born to be Alive”, by Patrick Hernandez. The song was his personal anthem, and he just loved life, although he would have preferred to have been a teen back in the 1970s. He loved that decade, the decade of polyester, which wasn’t always flattering on people, unless of course, they had a body like David Driscoll. He dressed, seventies-style, every day of his life, sometimes mixing and matching the loudest of shirts with the most ludicrous of pants, the wider the bells on the bottoms the better. He was THE biggest bodybuilder in the world, and so young, too. He was so beautiful that he could get away with wearing just about anything, or sometimes very little at all. It depended on the mood he was in at the time. So it was Friday morning, on his 18th birthday and he always performed a little show for himself in front of his bedroom mirror, as Patrick Hernandez belted out his catchy disco hit. Standing totally naked he would assess himself in minute detail, but for no longer than fifteen minutes. There was just so much for him to do and achieve today. “Bam.... best fucking arms ever, but they need more size,” he declared, curling his forearms up to a vertical position on either side of his handsome head, squeezing thick mass into his bis, and gasping in mock-surprise at how the peaks pushed upwards as if they were miniature mountains rising out of the land, a pure herculean feat that would forever go unrivalled. “First thing today... eat a huge, power-packed breakfast, and kiss your mom, in that order, trying to look as though you don’t already know about the Ferrari F430 she bought you for your 18th.” He flexed his rippling, deeply cut abs and sucked them in with expert control, as he fanned his upper body out to the biggest full-lat-spread he’d ever seen, and this was before today’s massive upper body workout, which, he’d planned to make the most productive one of his life so far. He had a plan for today, now that he was old enough to drink and go to bars. There was a new gay bar and nightclub opened in town and he planned to be the center of attention by the onset of evening. “Gotta work these muscle-titties up to their most bulgerific, oh yeah!” His mouth and chin disappeared into a mattress of super-strong, almost obscenely developed pec-cleavage. He flexed the slabs huger – hefting them higher – and causing rippling striations to blast across their corpulent surfaces. Nipples that pointed straight down now stood out perpendicular to the floor, each one pushing out in support of the pushing out happening further down. “Ha ha ha.... no one will ever come close to being as huge as me... yeah... huge in every place where it goddam fuckin’ counts.” Yeah, he was cocky to a fault, but he was entitled to be. He hefted the massive snake of his cock in his hands, shocked in a “not-surprised” kinda way, when it felt longer, thicker, and heavier to him than it had the day before. He always knew that he would grow amazingly on his 18th birthday. How he knew this he couldn’t say... he just, well, knew. “Gotta weigh myself.... must have hit 500lbs by now, aw yeah!” His cock snapped fully erect at the thought of weighing this much. Lately he’d been bodybuilding like crazy, even dropping out of school to devote as much time in each day to bulking up his body to even more massive proportions. Hell, he didn’t need to be academically achieved to sail through life. He already had everything handed to him on a silver platter, given that he came from one of the world’s wealthiest families. His parents were divorced, his father based in South America where he spent most of his time adventuring in the rain forest in search of ancient relics (yawn). His mother was a complete socialite, given to throwing gala parties at the drop of a hat. Today David would inherit a trust fund amounting to fifty million dollars, so what did he need school for? He had looks, muscles, vast wealth, and from today onwards... complete and utter independence. One thing he vowed not to have by the end of the day and night was his virginity. He stood on the scale in his personal bathroom whilst his manservant, Carmichael, stood in attendance. “I’ll take it the Sir is pleased by the number on the readout,” said Carmichael, in the fakest British brogue you will ever hear. But he was good-looking and although in his forties, looked a good ten years younger. David often thought about fucking him, but he knew that Carmichael was straight, and he respected that. “Damn, only 496,” David angrily snapped, stomping his foot in Hulk-like fashion, flattening the expensive scale beneath. As well as being monstrously muscular, the teen was immensely strong. “I will clean that up immediately and have a replacement scale within the hour, Sir,” Carmichael droned, as if disinterested. “Damn, I wanted to be 500 on my birthday. But I know I can grow so much today. I can feel it in my blood, Carmichael. By the way, does my cock look bigger to you?” Completely unashamed of his nakedness – in fact he loved to be naked as often as circumstances allowed – David squeezed his cock so hard that the mushroom head swelled to the size of a man’s fist. “Longer than my forearm, Sir. The Sir must be very proud to sport such a magnificent member,” Carmichael replied, tonelessly. “Yeah, and it’s going to see plenty of action this evening. But I need to bulk up to my hugest ever. Tonight has to be special, Carmichael. I need to be goddam fucking HUUUGE,” David roared, and flexed out a most-muscular that caused every bulb of muscle on his upper body to tautly explode with size and definition. “Ha ha ha... is that a little spot of precum I see staining the front of your pants, Carmichael?” David was becoming playful now, and so very lusty. “Yes, Sir, but I’m thinking about making love to Missus Carmichael later this evening, so please do not think that my sudden... ahem... display is in any way directed at you,” the servant politely stated. “Damn.... seven-fifteen. I need to get food into me before my cardio. Wow, it’s a sunny morning. Think I’ll go for a shirtless run, get these pec-melons of mine bouncing like crazy. Damn but they weigh a ton. Feels like they’re gonna drop off under their own weight at any second. Fuckin’ bones me.” David needed to fuck badly. He’d never done it with anyone before, respecting his mother’s wishes not to lose his virginity whilst living in the same mansion as her. Besides, bodybuilding left David with very little time for socializing, let alone pursuing a relationship. Since quitting high school a full year before graduation, he’d put the extra time to very good use, bulking up from 335 lbs. at just seventeen, to almost 500 in less than a year. But it was never enough for him. He had to be huger. “Need to be HUGE! Not HUGE enough. This bodybuilder is gonna get MASSIVE beyond belief!” He continued to flex the huge muscles across his mighty six-foot-eight frame. He felt as though he was done with growing in height, but if he happened to gain another couple of inches before his bones were done with growing, he figured he could live with it. Besides, as far as his bones were concerned, he still wanted his shoulders to widen and his rib cage to expand even further. The better the foundation, the bigger the muscles he could pack on to it. Carmichael laid out his clothing for that morning, a tan-colored pair of low-rise, butt-n-crotch-hugging running shorts that barely covered the top of his dark pubes or the top of his butt-crack. The curved cleft between his bubbled glutes was deep and dark, with just a small puff of hair poking out. Any sweat running down the deep channel of his back formed by the immense sheets of convoluted muscle on either side would collect in that tuft, two scents mixing to form his ultra-musk. He liked to build up this musk, and with tonight being an adventure of unprecedented proportions, David vowed to enter the nightclub reeking of musk, manly and over-comely, altogether dripping with seduction. David pulled on the shorts, taking great effort to do so, but being careful not to pop the button-fly as he struggled to pack his meat inside. He never wore a jockstrap or any kind of underwear under his shorts when running. He also never wore the same pair twice. Once done with the shorts, Carmichael, his devoted manservant, would (with the aid of a gas mask) package them up and sell them on eBay, but not before cooking them in a sauna for a few days, to get them really pungent. A pair of David Driscoll’s unwashed running shorts would usually go for upwards of $3000.00 lately, not that he needed the money, but it was fun to watching the furious bidding that took place on eBay for the much-coveted shorts. “Ha ha ha... the best thing is though, that my shorts get muskier the bigger I get. Better watch out, Carmichael, I may soon be sooooo musky, so manly-flavored, that even you won’t be able to resist me.” That was another of David’s plans, to seduce and fuck as many straight guys as possible. He was going to fuck the world....aw yeah! “Remind me to stock up on clothes-pins, Sir,” Carmichael responded, his droll tone dripping with the driest sarcasm. He helped his master on with his running shoes. That was the downside of being enormously muscled; putting on shoes was damn-near impossible when you had so much titanic muscle clogging up the space between your neck and your shins. But David wasn’t immobile, far from it. He was getting stronger and fitter as he got bigger, but any problems he had with dressing only served to make him even more proud about his burgeoning body. He was nearly ready, but for one more thing: Glisten Mist, the spray-on moisturizing oil and anti-burn factor, developed by one of his father’s many companies. The mist would coat his muscles evenly, buffing them up to a glistening shine whilst helping to lock in moisture and protect his beautiful, tanned skin from UV damage. “How do I look,” asked David, knowing full and well how amazing he looked. He posed some more in his mirror, aghast at how the mist-sheen brought out the beauty, mammoth size, and sheer mind-blowing magnificence of his bulging body. He flexed an arm, hooking it down before him, and a melon-sized ball-bicep morphed into being. “Gonna get these beauties twice as big today,” he vowed, with a manly snigger. “Um, the Sir might want to become less “excited” before going downstairs to greet his mother,” said Carmichael, drawing David’s attention to the huge cock-bulge in the front of his shorts. The visible button-fly strained and groaned in defiance of the pressure put against it, and the waistband, already ridiculously low and challenging the nudity regulations of California, was pushed out further from his ab-wall so that more of his pubic bush poked upwards. Already musk was forming there, the smell of the scent enough by itself to get David really horny. “Shit, I’ll have to cum first, Carmichael. Damn, I won’t even make it to the bathroom.” Frantically, furiously, David undid his shorts and expanded his cock to its complete length of twenty-something inches. It thickened considerably, the mushroom-head seeming to grow even further, his ball-sack bulging up like the throat-sac of a horny bullfrog. Fortunately, Carmichael always carried a fold-up umbrella in his inside pocket, in case of emergencies such as this. He just about got the umbrella up, using it as a shield before him, in time to not get showered. 7:32 am: David came and came.... then came some more. His milking went on for six minutes, bringing the time to 7:32 am, and he still had to leave his bedroom. “Aww...fucking horny. Huge bodybuilding mega-stud that I am... cum everywhere.” He coated every surface of everything in the room, and soon Carmichael’s umbrella was coated in thick, opaque splashes of viscid cream. He finished by licking off as much of the cum from his mirror, which completely covered it. When he could once again see his awesome reflection, he crabbed into a most-muscular, growling with such intensity that the mirror shattered right in front of him. “Fuck yeah!” When he arrived downstairs, Consuela the cook had his breakfast ready. David wolfed down twelve chicken fillets, four bowls of oatmeal, a pound of lean ground beef, and washed it down with three quarts of gainer shake (his own special recipe prepped to max for ultimate results in growth and conditioning). It was more food in one sitting than what three super-heavyweight pro bodybuilders would be able to get through. David was banned from competing for the simple reason that posing in front of a crowd got him so boned, he would come out in a massive erection every time. Fuck it: he knew he was the best. Besides, he would win every time, thus ruining the competition for everyone else. It was a lot of food to take in before a run. But David’s metabolism was truly exceptional. It was as though he had a nuclear reactor for a stomach. As soon as food entered his system it was broken down far more rapidly than a mundane human body could do. And he could eat anything he liked, too, once he had the sensible breakfast out of the way. Lunch would be pizza at the gym. His family owned most of the gyms in America, so his rules were different than those for everyone else. He was allowed to send out for 8 massive pizzas to help him through his workouts, and only David was allowed to train shirtless. His body was an example to everyone else working out at the gym... they would never match its perfection. His mother hardly noticed him as she glided into the massive kitchen, struggling with one of her earrings, her outfit the latest Versace two-piece, her makeup and hair done to perfection courtesy of her live-in stylists. “I’m jetting off to Milan, sweetie. Kiss kiss. Happy birthday. The keys to your present are on the countertop. Love you lots, daaaarling.” And that was it. Monique (real name Maud) barely had time for her extraordinary son, these days, not since hooking up with the wealthy Italian oil magnate, Rubio Andretticalzoni. “Huh, so much for my surprise party later on,” said David, a little despondently. But he’d mostly been raised by the servants since he was little, his parents far too important and jet-setter-ish to spare much time for their only son and heir. Even when he started to gain absurdly huge amounts of muscle, his parents hardly noticed. But David didn’t care. He only cared about himself and his body. He was too rich to have strong family ties beyond what his blood entitled him to in the way of inheritance. 7:51 am: He left on his run, charging through the mega-rich suburb, passing other rich-folk, musicians, movie-stars etc. He nodded a good morning to Vin Diesel who was out walking his poodle, the little toy-dog’s curly fur tinted pink in places. “It’s my girlfriend’s pooch,” the star of the Riddick movies explained, somewhat shakily, to the hulking Adonis that passed him, his eyes rapt on the seething bounce of David’s weighty pecs as he jogged. “Sure it is, Vin. Sure it is,” said David, winking. He blew a kiss at Lenny Kravitz who was out collecting mail from his mailbox. Kravitz gave him the finger but asked him where he got his pants from. “House of Trione, and you’d have a problem filling them out, hot stuff,” David blurted out as he quickly put distance between himself and the musician. He turned the head of every person he passed, the rich and the famous, although not one of them could ever match David’s size and beauty. Movie Director Louis Leterrier who, like many directors, had property in Santa Barbara, had seen David before, and was always trying to grab his attention. Sometimes David liked to tease him a little. “The offer still stands, David. The studio will pay you twenty million dollars to play the Hulk in HULK 3. The CGI hulks just haven’t been working out,” said Leterrier as he tended to his rose bushes. “Hmm,” said David, considering the offer. He’d seen both Hulk movies. And the Hulks looked terribly unrealistic, although there were significant visual improvements made to the Hulk in the second film. But twenty million dollars was now mere pocket change to David. “Of course, to use you as a live-action Hulk, I’d need you to bulk up by another three hundred pounds before we start shooting in mid-2011,” the director added. “I could easily get that big, Louis, but location shooting away from my base of operations could be problematic. It would eat into my training schedule far too much. But you might be able to change my mind, say, for forty million dollars plus merchandising rights for use of my likeness.” Smug and over-confident, his body glinting blindingly in the Californian sunshine, David flexed a most muscular, pushing all his weight and power into it. Several car alarms went off suddenly. Leterrier almost tripped over his tongue when he saw the muscles standing out so much. “Forget forty million, David. Your asking price is too high. Looks like it’s CGI for HULK 3, so.” Obviously the world wasn’t ready for a teenage Hulk. The director sighed and went back to pruning his roses. David continued jogging. 8.25 am: He decided to not turn back for home, but continued jogging, leaving the ‘burbs altogether and heading for downtown. He stopped plenty of traffic as he jogged, his muscles, especially his enormous pec slabs, caused guys passing to pop erections (whether they were straight or not) and grown women to start fingering themselves in the street. A cop car flashed its lights as a warning to him, but by the time David passed the vehicle, a quick flex and lick of his bicep was enough to overwhelm the two cops and they started to undo each other’s flies. David had an astounding and exceptional effect on people. It seemed that any laws that existed to keep mundane society in check simply didn’t apply to David. “Fuck, I’m gonna jog shirtless to the gym every day from now on,” he vowed, reckoning it would give him an extra thirty minutes to work on the weights if he didn’t have to go home first and shower, obviously driving to the gym after that. That meant that he could lift longer and get huger because of it. It made sense. “Grrrr, why didn’t I think of that sooner? I could be hundreds of pounds heavier by now.” He got to the gym, leaving in his wake a trail of orgasming Santa Barbarians. He stopped to catch his breath, which only took seconds. His body was glistening beneath a coat of shining, liquid beads, and his slutty shorts were sodden with his musky sweat. In fact, he entered the gym that morning and immediately Alan behind the desk, himself a huge bodybuilding hunk of 24, caught a sniff of David’s reek and instantly shot a messy load in his own shorts. “Unnnngh.... you’re so fuckin’ hot, Driscoll. Unnngh, how about you and I get jiggy in the showers later,” Alan moaned, now stroking his not-inconsiderable cock, caring little if his employers caught him on camera. Not to worry, David would fix everything, considering his family owned the gym. “I might take you up on that offer, sexy. Better start re-filling those nuts of yours. ‘Cos your cum is all mine. But for now, I gotta fucking lift. Gotta get so fucking, incredibly fucking HUUUUUGE!!!!!” He flexed his enormous biceps, screaming to get his blood flowing so that his muscles could bulge even larger. Alan immediately shot another massive load, blowing a huge stream of thick cum into the air. It splashed all over David’s biceps and he quickly licked each of them clean of every drop. 8:51 am: To hell with warming up. Jogging at 496 lbs. – his body saturated with massive muscle-flesh – was a warm-up enough by itself. Today he was concentrating on chest, arms, delts, and shoulders. Yeah, he could work all those groups by 5pm, his cut-off point. He needed to have his upper body looking immense before hitting the town later. It wasn’t even 9am and already there was a small crowd forming around David as he took his position on his favorite bench. It was chest first, aw fuck, he had to get it up past one hundred and eight inches. The other bodybuilders present, every one of them totally into themselves and their training, unless in the presence of David, began to egg him on, chanting in unison so that he could break through the pain threshold and break his personal bests. This morning he was benching 1100 lbs. on the bar, the bar itself bending dangerously from the massive weight. He cranked out a staggering thirty reps at this weight. Arteries begat new veins and veins begat a myriad of new capillaries as his circulatory system transformed to cope with the increase in his mass and the punishment he gave it. His body erupted with newfound bulges and vascularity as he managed a further twenty reps before returning the bar to its resting position. He didn’t need help doing it either. He sat up on the bench and bunched his pec muscles together. Even sweatier than he was when he arrived, he playfully raised his arms up high to expose the thick, twin bushes of his dark armpits, spraying every guy present with his sopping-wet perfume. “Aww David, you dirty cunt,” one of them cried, a tall muscle-hunk named Barry Watts, his sudden erection shredding his shorts at the front. The entire retinue of David-worshippers, straight, gay, and bi, began to go at themselves or else go at each other; such was the effect of being around the supercharged eighteen-year-old. “ I’ve come of age now, guys, so you’d better all watch out. I’m going to get huger than this.... way fuckin’ huger, and by the end of the day, you all will be walking home with smoke cummin’ outta yer butts. David has arrived, and David will CUMMMMM!!!!” The air-conditioning failed, causing the temperature to shoot up in the gym. David’s musk got stronger still, his once tan-colored shorts now dyed a dark brown from saturated moisture. His musk dripped down his legs and coated so many surfaces. Cockily he commanded some of his worshippers to load up the bar with another 100 lbs. The bar sagged even further on either end, but still held. He settled back beneath it and took the strain. “Unnnnngh!!!!” He was slow to start pumping reps, but as he commanded more strength from his ever-developing muscles, the bar soon began to feel lighter and lighter. Within twenty seconds David was pumping the 1200 lb. bar with ease. The fact it was getting lighter and easier to lift as he progressed, made him mad.... very mad! “48... 49... 54... 60... 68... 71... 150... 399...680...1397....,” the congregation chanted. David couldn’t stop pressing the bar. He was locked into the activity, doing away with sets altogether. There was now just constant pumping, ceaseless repetition, whilst around him, grown men in various degrees of muscular development continued to get off to the massive muscle-god named David. 10:00 am: Finally, after an hour, somewhere around his 2000th rep at 1200 lbs., David returned the bar to its rests, boned by the fact it was hot from friction, each overloaded end drooping like melting ice cream. He sat up, his musk now billowing around him. He looked around. Up to fifty gym-goers were locked in a ceaseless orgy around him. He got so very horny looking at them writhing in a seemingly endless rippling ocean of muscle and male beauty. He looked down at his pecs and was amazed to see that they were twice as huge as before. “Aw fuck... look at me. So huuuge. But not huge enough, not by a long shot.” He flexed his massive pecs, delighting at how much heavier they felt, the cuts deeper, the cleft between each pec-melon now richly dark and leaking his scent as abundantly as his boned cock dripped cupsful of precum at a time. So much moisture was leaving him, at an astonishing rate. He was thirsty, but not for water. He needed to test a theory. He’d had a dream once where he was milking other bodybuilders of their juices, drinking them in, leaving them dehydrated and unconscious. Strangely Carmichael was there, just for a second, but winking at him, as if he knew something that David didn’t. And in the dream, having drunk the bodybuilders of their nut-nectar, David bulked up far huger and huger. Could this be the secret to his exceptional muscle growth? The men at his feet were totally in his power, now. He started with Barry Watts, tearing every shred of clothing from him as he easily lifted him up with both hands. Barry was about two-eighty, bulking in his off-season, but he felt totally weightless to the monster that David’s muscles had made of him. “Mmmm, nice little pecker you have there, Baz,” David remarked, before closing his lips around Barry’s porn-worthy ten-incher. He sucked him for exactly nine seconds before the groaning, enraptured Barry blew another load and a blast of hot, salty crème gushed down David’s throat. David swallowed hard, savoring every drop. He drank Barry to the last, then pushed him aside and started on another, Guy Colette, whose balls were the size of tennis balls. David got him off and sucked him dry. He did this to every boned bodybuilder in his retinue. David grew. Aw fuck, he grew and grew.... like fucking never before. 10:33am: His perfume radiated outwards into the street, causing passers-by old enough to react to it to stop what they were doing and pile into the gym en masse. Some people had never seen the inside of a gym in their lives, but David’s reek was intoxicating and addictive. Soon a huge throng of people from all walks of life had gathered around him on the weight room floor as he underwent a most remarkable transformation. Considering he’d only intended to train some of his muscles on this day, he was completely boned to discover that sucking off the other bodybuilders had caused all his muscles to grow. His traps gorged on free space, pushing upwards and outwards, shortening the distance between his shoulders and neck. Veins, thickly throbbing, erupted across the triangular wedges, sticking out ferociously whilst the cords and pipes of his neck bulged and thickened, which sent further chemical power spreading to other muscle groups. His deltoids swelled larger, deeper, and thicker than... oh fuck... thicker than his goddam pecs had been just minutes before. A dozen inches or more was added to the colossal spread of his shoulders, providing the most perfect framework from which his now beach-ball balloons for pecs hung weightily, the under-swell of each pec-belly deep, round, so very thick and capable of casting a shadow under each hemisphere, dark enough to hide his top two cantaloupe-sized abs from view. His nips pointed down once more but grew intensely into cigar-butt-sized domes, each one ultra-sensitive and inviting of many a hungry, eager set of lips. His arms thickened massively, thicker and wider than the entire torsos of some of the skinny dudes his reek had drawn in from the street. One brave guy stepped forwards, stripping himself naked as he went, urged by, of all people, his girlfriend who was herself so turned on by the spectacle of the ever-developing mega-expanding young bodybuilder. He stood beside the giant so that everyone else could compare his width to that of David’s augmenting upper arms. “Hot dude, your arms are as thick as all of me,” the skinny fucker declared. “Oh really?” With a wink to his audience and the smuggest of smirks, David curled his forearm towards him, smiling out of the corner of his mouth, and immediately his biceps DOUBLED in circumference. The ball was gigantic, easily eighty inches or more, hopefully more, David hoped... a lot more. “Guess you’re going to have to start working out, stickman. You’re just half as thick as one of my arms now. Tsk tsk tsk,” said David, teasingly showing off, now, and loving every moment of it. Hearing this made stickman start to cum. David lifted him up with one hand and caught every drop of his spunk, draining him to the point of dehydration. In contrast to the swelling of his incredible upper torso, David’s waist seemed to tighten and become denser. It went in by an inch, giving him the most incredible difference in the ratio of size between his shoulders and waist. The ratio was easily 4:1 in favor of his shoulders. He also grew two inches taller, and his bones cracked and shifted in order to adjust to the extra muscle mass. David sucked off dozens of men, whilst their wives or girlfriends saw to their own “needs” watching David make fags out of their partners. One guy sauntered up to David and began to inhale David’s dripping, steaming musk. The gigantic muscle-teen lifted him up, sucked him dry, and added him to the pile of dehydrated stickmen gathering at his feet. He grew and grew and grew, sucking off any guy overpowered enough by his reek enough to throw themselves at him. He sucked on bodybuilder after bodybuilder as they began arriving from other gyms. He drank of the city police force, construction workers, in short, every gay man who was overpowered by David’s reek and just HAD to get to the gym. This went on until lunchtime, when traffic became deadlocked and complete sexual anarchy ran riot across the Santa Barbara coast. Finally, David could grow no more. 1:04 pm: Though his belly should have been glutted on man’s creamy ambrosia, David was ravenous. He looked down at the sleeping multitude of Californian folk: some naked, others half-in, half-out of uniforms, everything from police officers, dentists, paramedics, and even the odd man of the cloth (who would really have to question their faith after this). He smirked smugly at the sight of an Asian pizza delivery guy hogging the shredded remains of David’s slut-shorts, rubbing their reek all over his bare torso, intending to coat all of his parts with a stench he would never want to ever wash off. “Hey dude, where’s your van? I’m starving for pizza,” the now almost seven-footer bellowed anxiously. He could barely see much of the pizza boy who writhed on the floor amidst so much soil and reek, for his pecs were now monstrously huge and jutted out from him by more than four feet. His lats were so massive that they forced his elbows outward so that David could barely lower his arms. But with a little effort he could still get his hands around his lithe but solid hips. He flared a lat spread and any space between his bent arms and his waist was filled with lat muscles. He walked back a couple of meters to get a better look at the Asian cutie, his legs, beyond elephantine girth, rippling and flexing with the slightest of movement. His muscle-thighs were now so big that there was no room for his cock and balls to hang downward and in between. Pushed outward, they made his profile look even more dynamic. And... fuck... but his cock was thicker and longer than ever, longer than the distance from the top of his thigh to his knees. It slapped loudly against his thighs as he walked, and the feeling sent ripples of further arousal around his body. The Asian barely acknowledged him, caught up in the throes of his own masturbatory lust, but managed to point in the direction of his truck. The monster bodybuilder stepped over many sleeping folk, all of them sated to the last, and ventured out of the gym in search of the pizza wagon. He found it and got to its delicious cargo easily enough, ripping the rear door right off the vehicle and tossing it aside with hardly any effort. Just as he was about to get his handsome chops around the first pepperoni and cheese delight, a not-unattractive man, clad in a designer suit, hurried across the street towards the behemoth. “Stop right there, big fella. That’s a corporate order. I was watching for the van from the lobby of my building. That pizza is for the Board of Directors.” The guy looked pissed off but somewhat bemused by David’s size. “What’s the name of the company, pipsqueak?” David didn’t look away from his gorging. Fuck, but that was mighty good pizza. “Brody, Brody, and Marshall. Best law firm in Calif – heeey!!!” The thirty-ish-looking exec took exception to David reaching down to snatch his cell phone from his inside jacket pocket, which he then used to dial a familiar number. “Carmichael it’s David... yeah, training is going swell.... I’m fuckin’ huge. Listen, do me a favor and buy Brody, Brody, and Marshall... that’s right, the law firm on Main St. Across from the gym, exactly. Great. Oh, and one more thing...” Another question to the stupefied exec: “What’s your name, dude?” “Er... em... Alistair Marshall, junior vice-president. My father is treasurer and Ch––” But before he could finish: “And see to it that Alistair Marshall is promoted to Chairman of the Board, with a $500,000 bonus. Great. See you later.” David closed the phone and politely popped it back inside Alistair Marshall’s inside pocket. He patted him cheekily on the head before returning to his eating. It was David’s birthday, after all, and he was feeling generous. 1:57 pm: So much growing had worn David out. He decided he could use a nap. He bounded upstairs and evicted Ray the manager from his office, knowing he had a bed in there, a sizeable one, too, which Ray used to bone many a hot chick as was his wont in life. While he slept, he had a dream, but it was the strangest dream he’d ever had in his life. His dad was in it, and so was Patrick Hernandez. Both were sat around a blazing fire in some enclosed village community central to some lush, dense forest. David Driscoll Sr was staring beyond the flames, as if caught in some inner journey that only his mind could experience, whilst Patrick Hernandez feverishly scribbled down lyrics into a pad, his sequel to “Born to be Alive” probably. “Dad, what the hell is going on? Where are we?” There was little to glean from the dreamscape except from the immediacy of the surroundings: the campfire blazing high and brightly, the flames crackling and popping as resin from the burning wood was exposed to them. Beyond that the surrounding environment seemed to be smudged out of focus in the way that dreams can sometimes be to save writers from having to waste an entire paragraph describing it. “I’m afraid, son, that I’m dead. This is the afterlife, based on where I died and how I died,” David’s father lamented as he tossed more wood on the fire. The flames roared up higher, causing shadows to dance skittishly across the sprawling landscape of David’s enormously pumped muscles. “I see you’ve been doing some growing, son... and on your 18th birthday also. Just as I predicted.” David Sr smiled broadly at his son, the son he hardly ever saw, and yet was still proud of. “Whoa, wait a sec... before we get into anything else. You’re telling me that you’re dead?” Now this was a dream that David could really do with waking up from. But there was something about how it was presented to him, and the fact that it felt so much more than a dream, that piqued David’s curiosity. “Yes, it was all part of the bargain I made with, Old Nick here,” said David Sr, and slapped the back of Patrick Hernandez as if they were old buddies. Which, in fact, they were. The Devil looked up from his scribbling and flashed a mouthful of pearly whites at David. They were all pristinely bright, except for one bad one that ruined what would otherwise have been a perfect smile. “You made a deal... with the devil?” David looked horrified and began to back away from the glow of the fire. “Of course, we go way back, him and me. We both got our business degree together. Nick and the males of this family go right back to your great, great, great, great grandfather Efram Driscoll, who began this family corporation, which is now worth twenty million, billion dollars. We practically own two thirds of the free world,” said David senior, proudly. “You mean that Efram made the first deal with the Devil, a tradition that carried down all the way to.... shit... me?” David had never considered himself religious in any way, but if this dream was real, then there was some hot shit going down... shit that was hotter than Hell. Old Nick Hernandez put down his writing pad and began to roll a joint. He was a man of very few words, it seemed. “Yes, our forefathers all wished for great wealth and influence over the masses, and that sustained the family, and shall continue to through future generations, provided you don’t stay gay all your life and beget a son and heir. You need to pass on the tradition, you see. It was the nature of the first deal made by old Efram. By the time it was my turn, I didn’t need anything in the world whatsoever, cos I was set for life. When you were born, and we saw just how scrawny you were, I thought “Jeez, he’s a runt and a half. He’s a weak link in a long line of strong links in our exceptional family chain. I said to Nick that you should be big... really big. And that was meant to come to fruition on your 18th birthday.” “Fuck... that’s deep, Dad. I don’t know what to say. So now Satan has come to collect... your soul, obviously, and drag you down to hell?” Suddenly David felt bad. He hadn’t seen much of his father, growing up, and now he was never going to see him ever again after this dream. Life for David, it seemed, had just hit a fork in the road. “It won’t be like that at all, Davey,” Satan Hernandez said, finally speaking, now that he was puffing away contentedly on his huge spliff. He drew slowly and deeply, before passing the weed to David’s father. “Your Dad and I are old friends. Why, he’s been to hell many, many times. Even got beach-front property there, next to the golf course and spa. Hell is very misunderstood, not like the Hell people imagine thanks to Dante Alighieri, that allegorical ass. Damaged my public image for centuries, he did. Hell’s not a bad place at all. But that’s the rules. Souls are like tax in Hell. Your Dad gets to live there forever, but he has to pay his dues, too.” Silence washed through the dream for what seemed like a long time. Finally, David was the one to break it: “What about me? I have to make a deal, too? But I can’t think of anything. I’m too young to make such a big decision.” He turned to focus squarely on his father: “What am I supposed to do now?” David Driscoll toked on the spliff for a long moment and considered all options. He finally came up with: “You could sacrifice some of your size. Lose, say, 60 percent of it. You’d still be huge, but not like you are now. What are you now, easily 2000 lbs. or more?” “2666,” Satan interjected jovially, liking so much about that number. “But... but... I like being this huge,” David looked down at his magnificent muscles, each one swollen and bulging beyond all extremity. He was ravenous for muscle-growth, but a deal had to be hammered out before this dream came to an end. “Tell you what,” said Satan, taking out a harmonica for no reason. He began to play his rendition of “Devil in a blue dress”. It was a most horrendous version. “I will take off 666 pounds of muscle and convert it into your soul tax. You get to live out your life as before, but your size will be frozen at 2000 lbs. Also, to secure future deals with your bloodline, you have to produce a son and heir. Artificial insemination will suffice, so long as the little tyke is born and has a soul, which he will have, obviously.” More silence ensued. David didn’t know what to think. Finally, though, as the flames began to shrink and die, casting the immediate area into a spreading dimness, he reluctantly agreed to get smaller. “Great, kid. You won’t regret it,” said Satan, pulling out a contract which David had to sign in blood. The deal was done. David would be the first of the Driscolls since before Efram to avoid spending eternity in hell. He said goodbye to his father and shook hands with Satan, before... ... he awakened with a start and saw that he was in Ray’s fuck bed. What time was it? How long had he been asleep? He quickly got out of bed, only to find Carmichael standing over him, a clean set of clothes draped over his forearms. “I trust everything is now clear with the Sir?” Carmichael had never smiled in all the years he’d served the Driscoll family. Now, for the first time, he smiled broadly, displaying a mouthful of pearly whites, their perfection marred solely by a single bad tooth... the very same one as... “It’s you. That dream was real. What the hell?” “What the Hell indeed, Sir. You should get dressed. It’s after 5pm. You were asleep for most of the afternoon.” Carmichael began to lay out the master’s clothes for the evening. “Wait, how small am I?” David raced downstairs to the weight room to check himself over. The place was deserted, unusual for this time of day... all evidence of the calamity his growing had resulted in had been washed clean. Everything was mundane and without any reverberation of events. “Hmmm, I’m still pretty fuckin’ huge,” he exclaimed, gawping at the hyper-muscularity that occupied almost inch of his hulking bod. He’d come out of this deal better than he expected. He was four times as huge as he had been at 7:00 am that morning. He flexed a humongous, freaky double biceps pose, and his arm cannons did a 21-gun salute to his hugeness. He flared his lats, and they became engorged on blood, hulking out his mass to insane levels. He bounced the heaviest pecs in all creation, whilst flexing his mammoth quads, one after the other. He became lost to his pec-bouncing and almost passed out when he felt so much manly pec-meat heaving up and down on his chest. His pecs alone must have weighed about two hundred pounds apiece. His measurements were totally off the scale. “I will always be the hugest, strongest monster bodybuilder on Earth,” he exclaimed, somewhat proudly, bunching his torso into a most-muscular pose, leaning all his weight into it to maximize the flexing and the size it generated. “But I can never get bigger than I am now. Not now, not ever.” It was a sobering thought. He returned to Ray’s office to get dressed, his body somehow clean of soil, but with just enough of his musk on him to make the night ahead be the best one of his life so far. The oddly supernatural Carmichael had brought a most splendid outfit for David to wear. And despite that the birthday boy had grown by 400%, somehow the manservant had found an outfit that fit him perfectly. David started by rolling on the pants. He always put on pants like any lesser man puts on a condom, for the material of this clothes always hugged his muscles so tightly. The pants were mustard colored, a spandex and polyester mix that looked like a second skin as it clung to his parts, showing every striation and separation of each massive muscle. His cock and balls were truly enormous, and David had a bit of trouble squeezing his junk-load into the crotch of the pants. But he finally did it, the doing up of each visible button of the five-button fly a miniature triumph. The pants had very wide bell-bottoms, but even the bells clung to his huge calves at their widest points. Being of an early seventies design, the exposed button-fly wasn’t the only feature that nodded back to the retro-fashion era; the front square pockets of the pants were square-cut and dark brown in color, the same as the pockets on the back. And his bubble butt looked so beautiful and shapely in the pants, his crack sucking in the central seam and drenching it in musk. Next he put on the most stretchy, clingiest disco-style button-front shirt he’d ever worn. The material was semi-transparent, save for the pattern on the material, which was comprised of so many crescent moons and shooting star motifs. The flyaway collar was high and broad, settling well over his massive traps, but, like the pants, David had trouble doing up some of the buttons, specifically the ones behind which the most bulging pair of pecs ever built sat squarely on the widest chest ever sported by a man. He decided to leave a few buttons open to show off the fine brown hair speckling his pec-mounds. He finished off the ensemble with a gold chain around his bull’s neck, sporting a medallion in the shape of a tiny bodybuilder frozen in a perpetual full-lat spread. Similarly, the buckle of his belt showed a bodybuilder flexing a double biceps. Carmichael brought stylists into the gym to cut and style the hunky David’s hair into a sexy seventies look. They lightened it to a coppery blonde and cut it tight at the back but left a long, flowing fringe framed on either side by manly sideburns which didn’t overpower his looks. Finally, when he was fully dressed, he stepped back to admire himself. “Pure 1973,” he remarked, posing and flexing for all he was worth, testing the strength of the shirt, especially the buttons, in case they started to ping. They held, although some threads snapped in the shirt’s arms when David flexed his biceps. “How do I look from the back, Carmichael?” “Stunning, Sir. The width of your shoulders compared to the absurdly small taper of your waist spans far wider in the relaxed position than even the biggest superheavyweight is capable of when pulling a rear lat-spread. Your back is a “W” up top, but a lower-case “v” at its bottom, diminished still further by the massive and globular swell of your rectal area, making the button-flap pockets of the pants sit way more horizontally than vertically.” Carmichael was good at describing stuff. David could easily picture how his pants looked from behind. He flexed his glutes to their fullest, causing the buttons on the pockets to strain as their endurance was tested. David turned to the side, to take in his incredible profile. He noticed that the ball-shaped form of his biceps and triceps had stretched the shirt sleeves to near-bursting point... and... oh god... his upper arms were thicker than his waist, thicker by loads. The huge bulge in the front of his button-flies was extremely prominent, and so David played around with his meat, adjusting it inside the pants so that the bulge stuck out as far as it would go, whilst still flaccid. The distance between the apex of his crotch bulge, and the farthest point of his bubble butt at its most flexed, was a mind-blowing four feet. But that was easily dwarfed by the distance between his nipples when his pecs were most flexed and the middle of his back. He was so big, his muscles primed and pumped, traps, delts, bis, tris, pecs, abs, serratus, glutes, quads, hamstrings, and calves... maxed out and bulging beyond belief. “I guess I will have to get used to being stuck like this, never to grow ever again. But I’m certain of one thing... this shirt will be shredded before the night is out.” It was David’s holiest vow to himself on his 18th birthday. “Come, Sir, the car is waiting. I have you booked in for dinner at the Fangucci Bistro for 7pm sharp. You’re at Elizabeth Hurley’s table. I... er... arranged for her to come down with a twenty-four-hour strain of sweaty-cheese-minge syndrome. You know how hard it is to get a table there.” Carmichael, the devil that he was, was such a cool guy to know. “Do I have a dinner date for the evening, too?” David was starting to get horny again. He would love to get to know the son of Consuela the cook, the hunky Manuel who took over at weekends from the regular gardener to the Driscoll Palatial Estate. He saw him in his mind, now, stripped down to his jeans, his Mexican body toasted a healthy brown in the afternoon sun, cooling down under the hose he used to water the plants, his manly flesh modest but evident in the visible cuts between his work-hardened muscles. “You’re getting boned, Sir. Might I remind you to be careful regarding the pinging of buttons? And your dinner date is Manuel, the son of the cook, if you must know.” Carmichael had a devilish glint in his eye now. Had he read David’s mind? End of Part 1
  4. With the permission of Lorus, the author, I am reposting this story he wrote for the old forum and later deleted. Fortunately, I saved a copy so it can once again receive the attention it deserves. Direct your accolades to Lorus. I am only a messenger. Adventures of an Incredibly Aesthetic Muscle-God By Lorus Part 1 It was a day like any other for Brett Hillard, who, as the world’s most beautiful male model, could name his price when it came to photoshoots. In fact, at just 25 years old he’d already visited over one hundred countries on Earth. He had his face on more billboards in every continent than the average human has dinners in a lifetime. No other man on Earth could come anywhere close to being as beautiful as he was. Alas, he’d grown quite bored with the whole thing. He had millions of pounds in his bank account. He had six hundred and fifty-seven pairs of sneakers, all of which had been donated by the various sneaker manufacturers. He’d put his name to a llama park in Swindon, simply because he’d had one shot of tequila too much one night and decided to do it for a lark. He’d also slept with thousands of men, all of whom said he was the greatest fuck they’d ever had. He was so beautiful that he could make grown men cry and then shoot their loads just by smiling at them. Life was good for Brett Hillard. Some would say ‘too good’. He wanted more. He needed a change. He needed to change. So he did some research, and found something after a little searching. On the internet he clicked on a pop-up that read: “Wanted: Human Test Subjects for Mind-Blowing Physical Enhancement Program!” “Huh? This can’t be for real… can it?” He dug deeper, reading more into it. Of course, these kinds of things don’t reveal much to start with. They get your curiosity juices flowing as they ‘rope you in’. They prey on your desires for betterment. This promised to pay thirty grand for an hour or so of his time. “I don’t need the money. But I want to be… different. Yet the same.” He admitted to himself that he wasn’t making sense. But he had to know more. So he emailed the brain(s) that ran the program, half-expecting to get spammed out of it. But that didn’t happen. Next day there was an email waiting for him that contained only one thing: a cellphone number. Without delay Brett dialed it. It was answered immediately. “So you want to be enhanced, yes?” The voice on the other side of the connection sounded calm and erudite. “I’m the world’s most beautiful male model. But I want to be better than that. Can you help me?” “Ah, so you must be Brett Hillard,” said the voice on the phone. “Yup… bet you’ve already wanked to my photos online. I’d be surprised if you haven’t.” Brett was cocky to a fault. He had that effect on people. He could almost hear the man’s erection springing up on the other end of the line. “Not my thing, alas, Brett. But my assistant has a penchant for muscular males. He’s spent many a time in the bathroom with a tablet open to your Instagram. Let’s not delve further, eh? I’d like you to come visit us. The program has already proven successful with non-human participants. I think you’ll be very surprised at my findings.” “Sure thing. What’s the address?” Brett’s big cock hardened and got larger at the thought of his body becoming better… even more astoundingly beautiful. “123 Swole Street. Come at 2pm. We’ll have everything set up, Brett.” And that was it. Brett showered and ate a hearty breakfast. Before leaving he chose a particularly eye-catching outfit to wear; he was a button-shirt, bowtie, suspenders, and jeans kind of guy. To be honest, the mega-hunky blonde was so beautiful, and super-sexy and manly in every way conceivable, that he looked amazing no matter what we wore. Blue eyed, square-jawed, he had gorgeous bulges all over his body. Even his Adam’s apple was big and manly. His body was like that of a fitness model, with chiseled muscles that re-defined muscularity. He wasn’t huge, but he wasn’t small either. His vascularity was off the charts. He had a ten pack, for god’s sake. He made Sergi Constance look like a couch potato. “And to think… I’ll be even more insanely beautiful after I take part in this program,” he vowed. He growled a little, got a huge erection again, and had to relieve himself before he left his plush penthouse. 123 Swole Street turned out to be a building for rent. It was nondescript, with a faint smell of ozone; as if there was electrical equipment buzzing and humming within. Brett fought off the usual paparazzi and screaming guys and girls getting wet for him (he was used to it, as this happened wherever he went). “You think I’m super-hot now? Wait for it, you plain, ugly fucks,” he jested. It was all part of his showing-off act. The public loved it when he was cocky and insulting. It turned them on even more. Grown men had to run into doorways to relieve themselves simply because Brett turned them on in ways you wouldn’t believe. He pressed the doorbell and instantly the door unlocked, buzzing him in. He entered the dimly-lit building and was suddenly overcome with a slight feeling of dread. He swallowed, albeit nervously. It wasn’t like him to be nervous. What if this was a trap, set up by some crazed fan that wanted to keep him prisoner forever? Although, if it turned out to be a gang of youths with boyband looks, he might be persuaded to develop Stockholm syndrome. He tentatively walked down a spartan corridor and gave a slight start when a fluorescent light above him suddenly buzzed and blinked on. More of that ozone smell assaulted his senses. His eyes watered a little. A door opened at the end of the corridor, and a gorgeous-looking bloke in a white coat emerged. He was somewhat Asian, maybe Eurasian, and reminded Brett a little of Dev Patel, only hunkier. He had a lovely smile. And suddenly Brett’s concerns were laid to rest. “I’m Raj. Welcome, Brett. We’re about to change your life. Come… such wonders await you beyond that door.” Raj was undeniably gorgeous, but nowhere near as gorgeous as Brett, but no one ever could be, certainly not after today. He remembered what the voice said to him on the phone. Could Raj be the assistant he spoke of, that ‘had a penchant for muscular males’? Brett bounced his not inconsiderable pectorals under his ‘painted-on’ shirt. Gaps appeared between the buttons, revealing smooth, tanned skin. Raj beamed with delight. “I hope that isn’t your favorite shirt, Brett. After the treatment, you’ll be finding it a tad tight.” Raj winked and then his gaze was drawn to Brett’s crotch where an enormous bulge had formed. The tight pants looked like they would split any second. Raj found himself thinking how huge Brett’s cock was at full hardness. Brett had done plenty of nudes during his illustrious career, so Raj had seen it — and wanked to it — innumerable times. But he’d never seen it erect. “Bring it on, Raj. And you never know, by the time all this is over, you’ll have a sore arse for a month, if you get my drift.” Brett bounced his pectorals some more and flexed his traps. Buttons strained. His bowtie groaned as he thickened out his neck whilst smiling his usual cocky smile. Raj’s cock ballooned behind his white coat. But he was at work, so professional decorum had to be maintained. He took Brett into the next room. There were cages with animals in them. The animals were beautiful-looking. Brett marveled at the sight of them. “That gorilla should have its own modelling contract. What a handsome fucker, for an ape,” said Brett, when the gorilla — thick and muscular with a gleaming coat — extended a hand through the bars to gently caress Brett’s hand. “Ah, he’s lovely, yes? Two weeks ago, he was a six-month old chimpanzee,” Raj exclaimed, barely able to contain his excitement. “Fuck no! Seriously? He used to be a chimp? Jesus!” Brett was very impressed. The next animal was no less impressive. He recognized it, too. “A Komodo dragon. I saw them on wildlife shows,” said Brett, deciding to keep his distance from the second cage. These beasts had a vicious way of interacting with other living things. “Oh you can’t be afraid of a cute little gecko, Brett,” Raj teased. Brett’s mind was blown. There were other animals in several more cages, each one starting out much smaller and less significant in the food chain than what science had ‘helped’ them become. Another door yonder, and this time a different scientist stepped through. “I’m Doctor Herman Weiss. Finally good to meet you in person, Brett.” Weiss’s voice matched the one from the phone call earlier. He was an average-looking bespectacled man of middling years. He was a little grey at the temples with a comb-over to hide a bald patch several years in the making. He tended to stoop, but his handshake was firm and sincere, which belied his lack of physical prowess. “So, Doc, what’s this experiment I’m going to be doing? I hope you’re not scamming me with false promises.” Brett formed a frown that advertised skepticism. Weiss smiled and nodded, as if he expected such a reaction. “I’ll cut to the chase. The lease on this building expires tomorrow. We tend not to stay in one place for too long. Ethics and all that.” He removed his spectacles for dramatic pause. Then: “What if you had the power to grow massively muscular on a whim?” Weiss paused to allow Brett to take it in. “Are you serious?” Brett frowned even further. This had to be a wind-up. “The gorilla is beautiful, no? For a chimp. The same would go for you,” Raj interjected. He took Brett’s hand and caressed it. Brett’s ephemeral skepticism was replaced with reassurance. “We ran several computer simulations. We predict that you would have the power to control your growth — transforming at will — unlike the animal subjects. When they changed the changes became permanent,” Weiss added. “Really? So I could grow as little or as much as I like? Then get smaller again?” Brett’s erection was now straining towards painful restriction. “We think so, yes,” said Raj. “Okay, I’m in. Pump me full of your science stuff. I want this. I want it more than anything!” The procedure was blissfully brief, and defiantly simple. Brett was made to take a shower before changing into a medical smock, although he would have opted to keep his own clothes on. Weiss insisted that the procedure would be most effective if outside contaminants were eliminated. Brett acquiesced. He was weighed, too, and some detailed measurements were taken of his body. Next a serum was administered through his muscled forearm. Doctor Weiss had no problem finding veins on Brett’s arm; he was ripped and vascular to a fault. The serum glowed with a faint greenish hue. “A side effect of the radioactive isotope used as a catalyst, Brett. It will not change your skin color,” Weiss assured. He winked somewhat mischievously “Huh? Radiation? You didn’t mention that before. Will it make me sick?” Brett’s alarm was short lived when Raj interjected. “It’s no more dangerous than an x-ray. Nothing to worry about, Brett.” Raj scribbled notes onto a clipboard as he spoke. His chief job was to note down everything that happened to the test subject. Brett didn’t much care for the unflattering medical smock, and he summarily ripped it from his body. Somewhat nonplussed, both scientist and assistant took a step back. “I want to look my best when I become incredible,” Brett explained. And so the 6’3” mega-hunk stood completely naked before the purveyors of his amazing future, his body rippling and glistening beneath a patina of sweat that adorned him with a god-like glaze. He sported a massive erection. Raj was overwhelmed by its length and girth. It had to be at least twelve inches long and eight or nine inches thick. Beneath the fleshy, horse-hung cock, his ball sack was heavy and bulging with gonads big as peaches. And they were about to become way bigger once the procedure ran its course. A minute passed during which nothing much happened. Raj had stopped taking notes and remained aghast and agog at things as they unfolded. There was a video camera recording everything as it happened. “I don’t feel any different,” said Brett, and he began to think that all this was just a scam. Then… It was slight at first, but did his chest suddenly thicken and look fuller than before? “Hmm… interesting. Only your chest has responded to the serum,” noted Doctor Weiss. He nodded to Raj, indicating he should make a note of it. “Well, I was just thinking about having a bigger chest, Doc,” said Brett. He bounced his now larger pecs, enjoying the experience immensely. “This could be significant,” said Raj. Weiss frowned. “I don’t pay you to have opinions, Raj. Keep taking notes,” Weiss intoned adamantly. And then to Brett: “Try thinking about growing another muscle, Brett, er… your biceps?” Weiss was as excited as a scientist could get on the verge of a scientific breakthrough, his own personal ‘Eureka’ moment. Raj, by contrast, licked his lips in anticipation. Brett lifted his right arm and bent it at the middle, forming a distinct and eye-catching mini boulder. A smug expression washed over his delicious face when veins popped out all over his arm and the bicep bulged larger than it ever had. It definitely got larger, almost as large as the soup plate-sized eyes in Raj’s handsome head. Brett didn’t stop here. He copied the pose of his right arm using his left, forming a double biceps pose. Veins popped larger, his muscles bulged significantly bigger and Raj moaned audibly as his lust for Brett Hillard intensified. To hell with professional decorum. Weiss didn’t pay him nearly enough for his work. “Try another pose, Brett. Perhaps a lat spread. Not that I’m knowledgeable of such things,” Doctor Weiss said, almost bashfully. Brett was only too happy to oblige. The naked archetype of Adonis fanned out his upper body, and his mind forged the image of him swelling huge. It took just seconds for his body to respond. He grew way larger than his learned onlookers could have anticipated. His lats formed an impressive delta spread. His pecs heaved upward and became thickly corded and striated. “Get me a fucking mirror… now!” As Brett’s desire to grow intensified, so his aggressive side became apparent. Muscle rage had to be anticipated. It was so very masculine, as the serum bolstered Brett’s levels of testosterone many times over. A mirror was fetched. Brett could now see himself reflected full-length. A smirk of pure conceit formed on his beautiful face. This was what he was destined for. “Grrrr… I’m a big, gorgeous muscle-god now. But this is just the beginning. So much power now courses through these veins. I can do anything I want. Rawwwr!” He flexed down into a huge most muscular, and his muscles exploded with greater size and definition. Raj gasped and dropped his clipboard, not that Doctor Weiss even noticed. The older scientist seemed transfixed with pure awe, although he was incapable of becoming aroused. Raj was aroused enough for them both. “Perhaps we could take some measurements now. And your weight has changed considerably. Could you step back on the scale, Brett please,” Doctor Weiss urged. Raj’s pants were soaked at the front, but his lab coat concealed the precum wetness. He wanted to come, but things were only beginning to hot up as far was Brett was concerned. “Incredible. Your weight has gone from 220 lbs to 350 lbs in a matter of minutes. Perhaps you could halt your gains for a while; give your body a chance to adjust, eh?” Weiss’ complexion had become a tad wan. This was far different from observing a chimpanzee grow to gorilla proportions. Brett had the ability to shape his destiny (as if he couldn’t do that before?), unlike dumb lab animals. “Hey Raj, you have the hots for me, so you get to wield the tape measure,” Brett said cockily. Stepping off the scale, he blasted muscle pose after muscle pose, his beautiful body becoming more and more striking. His skin tightened so that his muscles rippled and rolled, and his veins bulged so much more. Raj wanted him so much. His throat had become dry, and he croaked when he tried to speak. “Biceps...chkkkk…. twenty-six inches….up from nineteen.” Brett smirked in cockiness once more. “Just for starters,” he announced, bunching his upper arms into small cannonballs of size and hardness. He was already hugely muscled, but he knew he could get so much bigger. In fact, his growth seemed instinctive now. He only had to think about his muscles growing and they responded with gusto. His chest had gone from forty-eight inches to sixty-two. He wanted to pump it up even bigger, but it would have benefitted greatly from a workout. In fact: “Hurry the fuck up, the pair of you. This place is starting to get small around me. I need to put my muscles to work and get to the gym. I’m gonna blow people away.” Brett had grown weary of playing the science guinea pig. He wanted to explode onto the world and kick it around like a football. “Er… very well. But we’d like you to keep in contact, for check-ups soon. You are the first of your kind. This serum could have many beneficial medical applications, as in curing diseases that cause muscles to atrophy,” Weiss advised. “Yeah, yeah, Doc. You’ll get your awards and all that shit,” said Brett, continuing to pose and flex in front of the mirror in the lab. His cock had swelled up massively and Raj wanted to suck it so badly. In fact: “Why doesn’t Raj here come back to my penthouse and monitor me in daily life? He can report his findings back to you. Then we can get up close and personal. You’d like that, wouldn’t you Raj.” Seeming all too desperate, Raj pressed his face against the muscle-god’s prominent chest. The smell of his muscle-musk was overpowering. And rightly so. Brett had him under his spell. Weiss could do nothing but acquiesce. “Hmm… my clothes are all but useless to me now. So how will I get home if I’m naked? The streets will run white with spunk when grown men see me like this.” What to do, Brett? What to do indeed. Then he thought about growing smaller. And he did. It was miraculous to observe. But he didn’t return to his original size. He kept some of his gains, just enough to tease the fabric of his clothing to near-bursting point. His shirt had looked painted on to begin with. Now it hugged his muscles even more snugly, and he couldn’t button it across his chest, so he left the top few unbuttoned for even greater effect. Likewise, the threads of his jeans strained to contain his gorgeous thighs. The buttons of his fly groaned trying to keep themselves fastened. His crotch was wet with precum. Combined with his musk, he smelled incredible. An Incredibly Aesthetic Muscle-God was born. And it was time to have some awesome muscular adventures. Part Two: Raj Moves In The penthouse was a complete paradise to Raj. His own apartment could easily fit into Brett’s bathroom. This was a place where a rich twenty-something gay bachelor entertained to extreme. It had its own gym, games room, home cinema, sauna, jacuzzi, bar, and rooftop swimming pool. But there was only one bedroom, since even penthouses have finite space. “Don’t worry about the sleeping arrangements, pretty boy. You’ll be sleeping with me from now on. Not that we’ll be getting much sleep, wink wink,” said Brett, now that he and Raj were alone. Raj couldn’t believe his luck. The most beautiful man in the world was basically making him his roommate. Maybe much more, too. “I can’t believe this is happening,” said Raj, trembling with delight. “Well it is happening, so you better get used to it. Now to get you out of that fucking lab coat. I want to see you in the flesh, cutie.” Brett muscled up considerably, so that his clothes literally flew apart into pieces of confetti. He shot up in height, too, gaining 300 lbs of muscle in seconds. He was now even bigger than back at the lab. Raj cried tears of delight and forgot to breathe for a second. “Look at how huge I am. You’re a fucking rodent compared to me. Although, you’re a pretty sexy one.” Brett ripped Raj’s clothes off. Raj was muscular and toned, and not too ripped. He had, maybe, twenty decent pounds of muscle on him. He was 5’11” and a little broad-shouldered. Indian by blood, he was very attractive. He had a nicely-sized cock, too. A good eight-incher. It would suffice. “Get down on your knees and suck my huge muscle-cock, Raj. Try not to choke on it, although I suspect you will, heh heh,” Brett playfully commanded. He liked Raj a lot. Although he came across as a tad aggressive, he really didn’t want Raj to get hurt. “I will do anything you order me to, Brett. I am your slave in all things from now on,” Raj almost cried out his words. His speech was quickly quashed by a mouthful of the biggest, most beautiful cock he’d ever tasted. He could just about get his lips around the thick mushroom head. “Awww… feels good, Raj. You’re old hat at this,” Brett growled. Standing before him, he blasted out a full lat spread and willed even more muscle onto his incredible body. He bulged insanely — every part of him bursting with size and power — much to Raj’s delight. “Look at how huge I am. But don’t you dare stop taking more inches of my muscle-cock. Take it in, little man-bitch… but don’t choke. You gotta keep breathing in order to serve your Muscle Master. I’m your god now!” Brett’s pecs heaved with striated prowess, bouncing as the muscles pushed and rolled against each other. He played with his rock-hard nipples whilst Raj serviced his cock, and his arousal augmented further and deeper. Just for fun Brett willed his pecs a little bigger, so that they now formed an obstructive shelf before him. They blocked his view of Raj completely, and then Brett grew his nipples to ten times their size. Thicker than three cigar butts taped together, likewise the areolas swelled to the size of size plates. They began to ooze a delicious milky liquid that cascaded over his pec shelf and gushed down on top of Raj who was already getting drunk on Brett’s precum. Brett’s sweet nectars mixed together, and Raj drank it all in, not just with his mouth, but with his entire body. His lust at its greatest, Brett grew larger. His cock shot out and thickened considerably, so that Raj’s mouth could no longer contain it. Raj coughed and pulled back, his body glistening with his own sweat and Brett’s muscle/sex nectar. Brett picked Raj up with one hand and carried him to the massive bed in the bedroom. He playfully tossed him like a ragdoll. His strength was so great that Raj felt completely weightless. Raj lay there, panting and ecstatic, and everything darkened as Brett’s massive shadow fell across him. Cords of precum and muscle-tit milk quickly soddened the bed, but neither of them cared. Caught up in the moment, they were both slaves to Brett’s ever-increasing power. “Heh, I’ll go easy on you, my little man-bitch. Don’t want you in a body cast, heh heh!” There was no way to gauge Brett’s current weight, although his weight could never be ‘current’ since it was near-constantly changing. But Raj felt like he was shrinking as the massive muscle-god before and above him continued to explode with huge amounts of muscle. Brett’s skin tightened over his burgeoning muscles, causing the fibers to become visible and interlaced with networks of bulging black veins. Raj gasped and thought he could see the blood coursing through Brett’s subcutaneous piping. Brett threw his head back and laughed/growled in ecstasy. He was clearly drunk with power and wanted much more. His shoulders, neck, and traps exploded with mass and his pecs and delts continued to balloon. He lowered himself yet nearer to his ‘shrinking’ little man, so that Raj could take nectar directly from the source. Brett’s teats felt like dicks in his mouth and Raj found himself alternating between the two. Growling with desire and lust to grow even more huge, Brett squeezed his gigantic pecs together, creating a deep, dark, and sweaty cleavage which Raj was privy to explore with his tongue as it darted from one muscle-teat to the next. As Brett continued to gain yet more size, the king size bed began to groan in defiance of the massive weight it struggled to support. Brett didn’t care. Suddenly he flipped over, nudging Raj off the bed completely so that Brett could lay on his back. Easily close to 8’ tall, his girth was immense, especially his upper body. But his legs were no less impressive, so much thickness spread across thigh muscles that rippled and rolled as they battled for space. Between thighs and abdomen, Brett’s ball sack expanded to mind-blowing proportions, accompanied by a muscle-cock that simply refused to stop growing. A helter-skelter array of thick, dark veins embossed the rod and fed it constantly with blood altered forever by Weiss’s serum. Raj found himself ensconced on a sea of mega-muscle, the centerpiece of which was a phallus as big as his arm. There was no way his modest hole could accommodate a missile like this. And yet… “Fuck me… please Brett, my muscle-god. Fuck this little man-bitch into next week,” Raj implored. Choked with lust and muscle, his eyes watered with emotion. He was now obsessed with Brett, and this would never change. He found himself unable to stop from climbing onto Brett’s cock and positioning his hole over the huge head. It was already way bigger than just moments before when he was able to take it in his mouth. This would be like getting fucked by a baseball bat. But he couldn’t stop himself. “Get my huge cock inside you, little man-bitch,” Brett barked. The rod oozed enough precum to sufficiently lube itself. But Raj still struggled to get the fist-sized head into his anus. “Heh heh, am I too big for you? Does it hurt my little man-bitch?” Raj was barely visible beyond the huge wall of pec meat that obscured much of Brett’s view. He loved his new body and its awesome power. “Cuh-can’t take your duh-dick… please, make it smaller… puh-please!” Tears streamed out of Raj’s eyes. He really wanted to push down on his master’s enormous cock. He wanted so much of it inside him. He wanted to spend the rest of his life getting hammered up his hole by such a mighty beam. His lust was overpowering. He knew he was close to coming. Brett sensed it. His super-dick had become super-sensitive to maximize his pleasure. Just like his nipples he could control this sensitivity as much as, or as little as, he liked. And through his dick alone he could feel Raj beginning to convulse prior to orgasm. “Okay, I’ll make it smaller for you… but the rest of me must compensate for the shrinkage. Watch this…. Rawwwwwr!” Even as Brett’s dick shrunk by thirty percent or so, his body ballooned with further crazy amounts of muscle. The bed creaked more noticeably, now, as his body gained hundreds of pounds of new muscle. He flexed a massive double biceps and the huge mountains burst forth with more veins and more size. His head now seemed dwarfed by his biceps. His forearms also increased hugely. They made Frank McGrath’s forearms look like fucking twigs by comparison. Raj found himself slipping further down the muscle-cock. Inch after inch went into his hole, lubed sufficiently for maximum benefit. The pain was still considerable, but Raj found he could endure it. He’d taken a ten-incher in the past, but this time he was riding on more than that, probably twice as much. He’d be sore for a week after this, if not longer. Brett played with his massive, and super-sensitive, nipples, tweaking them between his fingers and thumbs whilst Raj adopted a bouncing rhythm up and down on his member. Raj was crying and screaming with every upward thrust from Brett. If Brett were to thrust hard enough he’d have Raj hitting the ceiling and probably cracking his skull. Brett had no idea how strong he was at this time. But he knew that he could get a lot stronger. And he intended to. But for now, he had to practice restraint, for Raj’s sake. Damn, why were men so fragile? He made a mental note to find a hardcore gym and fuck the biggest bodybuilders that trained there. He’d make them all his man-bitches. They would be small compared to him. Heh, that’d fuck up their egos for sure. After a few more minutes of the one position, Brett grew restless. He needed variety, and there was an itch in the small of his back. He leapt to his feet, causing the entire floor to shake. Folks living below probably thought it was an earthquake warning tremor. Still not close to coming (although closer than before) Raj gasped at Brett’s current height. The top of his head was just inches from the ceiling. The ceiling had to be at least nine feet from the floor. “Time for some doggy style, my little man-bitch,” Brett growled. Raj didn’t complain. As a devoted bottom, this was easily his favorite style. He submitted his hole once again and enjoyed the experience even more. Brett had to kneel in order to bring his mammoth member down to Raj’s level, but this was not a problem. And thus, further pounding began. Brett had to limit the strength of his thrusts for fear of sending the bed and Raj careening across the bedroom. But an enjoyable experience was had by all. To finish off, Brett effortlessly flipped Raj around, and the smaller man cooperated by drawing his knees up towards his head and pushing his anus outward, giving Brett two “handlebars” to hold onto in the form of his ankles. Brett did him up the hole even further, and increased his dick girth just enough to give him maximum pleasure without tearing Raj a second asshole. Raj came first, gobbets of spunk splashing onto his abs and chest. He cried out with a level of bliss no man has ever experienced. This further goaded Brett on. He wasn’t ready to cum just yet, although he was close. But he decided not to come inside Raj, as he’d no idea just how much spunk a body this large — with coconut-sized gonads — could produce. Besides, there’d be other times, and Raj seemed exhausted. “Heh heh, I’m a god amongst insects now. I guess I can go on tirelessly. Not like you, my little man-bitch.” Brett grunted out a few more thrusts – knowing he could have gone on and on — but there was plenty of time to ‘get to know Raj better’. Besides, he was ravenous. Growing and fucking had given him quite the appetite. “Time to come. But the mess will be considerable. Hmm… better think fast!” The muscle-god bounded across the bedroom and out onto the adjoining balcony. The city could take his spunk. He was forty stories up, and he knew he could blast out his load like a cannon. “Here you go, fuckers!!!” And he shot his load, a massive blast of muscle-crème. It shot out over the city skyline, arching outwards and onwards. He delivered gout after gout of his rich seed, which rained down on an unsuspecting population. “RAWWWWWWWWWWRRRR AH FUCK YEAH!!!! I’M A FUCKING GOD!!!!!” Liter after liter of hot steaming jizz pumped out of his huge cock. And he didn’t stop shooting for at least three or four minutes. Finally, he was spent, his balls reduced to a quarter their size, but his newfound instincts told him that he could simply will them to refill with yet more spunk, even more than he’d just shot. He finished by forming a massive full lat spread. His upper body fanned out and ballooned with masses of muscle-flesh. His skin tightened further, creating scar tissue: the bodybuilding badges of honor. He could keep the scars if he chose to, or order his body to heal. He was invincible. His full lat spread made him look even bigger. Every muscle was pumped huge. His pecs heaved upwards, so that he had to hold his head back to give himself room to breathe. He dominated everything with his size and power. And he could get even bigger if he commanded it. He crabbed down into a most muscular pose, and his muscles became even more striated, with mind-blowing separation between. In order to compensate, his body grew more veins in order to pump more serum-altered blood to his muscles. He growled maniacally, super-drunk with the lust to grow and get even stronger. His dick got bigger, thicker, and longer, and his balls almost exploded as more spunk was made in seconds. He flexed his upper pecs and willed his huge man-teats to issue their nectar upwards. Fountains of the fluid shot up and arced towards his mouth. In this fashion he fed on his own elixir. And it made him grow bigger. His cock grew larger still — easily thirty inches — and it slammed against his ten-pack ab wall. The sound was like a wet mattress slamming against the trunk of an oak tree. Brett came again. And again. This time he urged his issue upwards — a larger fountain yet — and he gorged on his own spunk. It empowered him. Hundreds of meters below him — the city streets teeming with life — people stopped and gazed upwards, drawn to the sound of a god’s screams of bliss. Some people were scared by the sound. Others were indifferent and went about their daily business. Others, still, were aroused by it. After, Brett shrunk down to 400 lbs of muscle, standing at 6’6”. When Raj was recovered and refreshed from their first fuck, he’d have him measure his muscles. He decided that 400 lbs would be a good baseline from which to spring future growth spurts. He was thickly muscled and extremely aesthetic. He would grow and alter his physique to suit his moods. Right now, his mood was hunger. He decided to see what was in his huge American-style fridge. There was some leftover fried chicken, which he devoured bones and all. A bucket of potato salad went down the same way. He fried up a dozen eggs and wolfed them down right out of the pan. There was a liter of frozen yoghurt, which he added to a blender, chucked in some protein powder and cream cheese and more eggs. He whizzed it up into a decent-enough shake and chugged it down. Finally he was satisfied, but he would want more food, and soon. “Time to hire a live-in chef. He’ll cater to all my food needs, giving Raj more time to worship me and get fucked. Speaking of Raj...”. Brett returned to the bedroom and saw his little man-bitch sleeping soundly in the bed. Brett, now sleepy from so much food, decided to join him. He lay down beside him and enveloped Raj in his muscular arms. If he wanted to, he could grow huge again. But he decided to save his strength for later. There were so many amazing muscle adventures to be had. Part Three: Finding Bodybuilder Man-Bitches It didn’t take long for Brett to find a live-in chef. Within an hour of placing the online ad, there was a queue of anxious and horny chefs — mostly sex-hungry males — gathered outside his building. Brett stood on his balcony overlooking the city and regarded his ant-like minions from high above. His booming voice carried to all and sundry. And specifically, to the women that turned up expectant and starry-eyed for a chance to work for the muscle-god: “Sorry girls, guys only. Go home and play with your dildos!” The crestfallen women chefs didn’t have to be told twice. Brett picked a handsome enough fellah and ordered the concierge to let him up to the penthouse. His name was Pete, but Brett would call him Chef Guy. His salary was three times that of his last job, which suited him fine. He was also gay, so there’d be some perks to the job, too, no doubt. “Cook me up a huge meal before the gym, Chef Guy. Protein-based. And make something out of this!” Brett cockily handed Pete a bucket containing a mixture of his super-spunk and his muscle-tit milk combined. Brett figured that his own fluids would be more nutritious than anything any bodybuilding nutrition expert could develop. Not that he needed to take anything to grow, but it was fun to dabble in new things. Pete came up with a macaroni and hamburger bake doused in the milk from his new employer’s tits and gonads. Brett reckoned he could increase the potency of his issue if he hulked up to massive proportions before spewing forth this anabolic ambrosia. But for now, the food was delicious. Brett ate three huge helpings and a rack of lamb with all the trimmings whilst Raj and Pete watched and wanked furiously. The penthouse would forever smell of spunk from then on. After eating, Brett hulked up to 500 lbs, so that his stringer tank and denim cut-offs would appear membranous next to his incredible skin. He grew his lats out so that his arms rested akimbo, although he couldn’t really get his hands and hips to touch. He loved that feeling, to have muscles so huge that they restricted his movements. He wanted his button-fly to look as strained as possible, so he got Raj to take a scissors to the panel of material that conceals the fly — cutting it away entirely — so that the silver buttons glinted and strained visibly against the massive pressure caused by his junk within. Some of his pubes poked through the gaps in the fly, and every follicle dripped with his musky aroma. “Here, get a snootful of my scent before I head to the gym,” growled Brett, pushing Raj’s head into his crotch so that he could inhale his amazing crotch musk. Raj busted a nut once more and cried out in bliss, before Brett picked him up, sucked all the cum off his dick, then kissed him lovingly and set him back down. No available protein would ever be ignored or wasted. “You two don’t get up to any sexy mischief while I’m doing my workout,” he playfully admonished his two-man crew, although he winked as he spoke. That said, he picked up his gym-bag and left via the balcony. “Fuck it, I’m too big to fit in the lift. This way is faster!” He leaped over the balcony rail, powerful spring-like muscles in his legs bulked out massively to propel him far out over the city. It was an amazing feeling. He landed just a few meters from his regular gym, bulking out his leg muscles to massive proportions in order to comfortably absorb the impact of his landing. He made a massive crater in the street, and car alarms went off and windows shattered. He didn’t care. “City can bill me. I’m good for it,” he declared with lofty pride. His gym was a plush affair, mostly for male models and minor celebrities to work out in, but there was also a hardcore section. Brett avoided the locker room entirely; he’d only spend too much time in there posing and fucking the shit out of the other members. Fuck it, he made his own rules. He decided he was a bit overdressed for his workout, and bulked up by another 100 lbs or so until the stringer tank and exposed button-fly cut-offs flew apart like wet tissue paper. But he still had to think of the other members coming too soon. From his gym bag he removed a micro mankini. It was literally a pouch with string attached. He also slipped on a cock-ring. He didn’t really need to use a cock-ring, but he liked the feeling of extra pressure as more and more blood was forced into his massive tool. The pouch of the mankini barely engulfed the fist-sized mushroom head of his dick. The entire shaft of his monster dick — with thick, dark veins pulsing with power — was exposed for all to see. Brett decided his dick could use more size, and so with a growl that would turn an attack dog’s hair pure white, he forced his dick to grow and thicken to twice its size. “Shit forgot the cock-ring,” he lamented. The titanium ring stretched to contain the even thicker ‘trunk’ of Brett’s dick. “Hmm… fuckin’ thing is holding. Can’t have that. Gotta give it more size. Hnnnnnnnghhh!!!!!” Everyone on the gym floor looked on with awe. They all knew Brett, and couldn’t believe their eyes at his command of muscle-growth. It looked like magic to them, and it was the horniest, most incredible sight they’d forever admit to witnessing. But when Brett grew his dick to the size and thickness of an average man’s leg, the cock-ring exploded. Hot metal flew in all directions. One piece took out a section of mirror behind a rack of free weights, but fortunately no one was hurt. “Hmm, need another cock-ring,” the gorgeous behemoth mused, as he started searching about for a suitable replacement. The bar from a barbell would suffice, so he picked it up, and tried to bend it into a ring. The metal fatigued a little and heated up, but it wasn’t enough. “Need more size, more strength to bend this fucker!” And so more grunting and flexing followed, and as Brett’s monster bod bulked up to even huger proportions — muscles literally gobbling up free space as they became engorged with blood and serum and inhuman power — the bar gave in with ease. He bent it in two, and then into a ring. Crude, but it would do the job. He slid it onto his monster schlong. It was a little loose. Not a problem. He hulked more size out of his dick until the cock-ring was water tight next to his veiny organ. He leaked a bucket-load of precum, which splashed about as he jiggled and twirled his monstrous member. Precum splashed onto the transfixed onlookers. Brett’s musk filled the capacious room and grown men began to lick Brett’s stink off each other. As he bulked and flexed, so the mankini became even more stringy, his gigantic balloon pecs pushing ever outward, forcing the strings to strain and grow thinner. All this happened before he lifted a single weight. By the time he even began his workout, he’d bulked up to over 800 lbs. and almost eight feet in height. He could vary the height/mass ratio to any degree. He now towered above everyone; the next biggest guy in the gym that day was only 250 or thereabouts. Brett could snap him like a twig. In fact: “Hey, mouse boy… look at you, you fucking runt. How much can you bench?” Brett teased. “Er… up… about one-eighty, Buh-Brett,” Mouse Boy stammered. He was afraid of the beautiful and most muscular man alive, but he was too horny to care. Like everyone else in the gym, ladies included, no shorts or singlets remained dry once Brett was in the room. “Buh-Brett? Is that my name, Muh-Mouse Buh-boy? Dare you stammer in my presence?” Now Brett was getting a little pissed off. He decided he didn’t need to work out, but he wanted his arrogant fun. So be it. “Sorry, Brett,” said Mouse Boy, clearing his throat. He sported a not unimpressive erection in his tight black singlet. “Hmm… put more weight on the bar, say… four hundred. Then get on the bench and use a spotter,” the giant ordered. Worriedly, Mouse Boy tried to overcome reluctance balanced with horniness. He was already sliding around on his own precum at this point. The gym stank of it. “I can’t lift that much, Brett,” he protested, glad he could contain his stammering. Brett didn’t approve of stammering. “Oh, don’t worry. You’ll have a little help, heh heh,” Brett chuckled. When the spotter was in place, Mouse Boy — the heaviest bloke in the gym next to Brett — got into position on the bench and tried not to feel like a little kid again. “Now neither of you move until you get the signal. You’ll know it when you… er… feel it,” Brett said with a wink. Then he left the floor. Lots of people stood around in silence. They exchanged nervous glances. No one knew what would happen next. After what seemed like a small eternity… The gym began to shake. Just a little at first, but quickly increasing. Beneath the bench upon which Mouse Boy was nervously ensconced — with his spotter trembling behind him — the floor beneath came away with a mighty concrete crack. It began to rise, an area of about eight feet long by four wide. Below the unearthed section of floor, Brett lay flat in the basement below. His huge hands gripping the piece of floor he’d removed upon which two grown men, a bench and four hundred pounds of iron were raised as though they weighed nothing all. Mouse boy couldn’t even raise the bar. He just lay on the bench with his hands tightly gripping the bar, with his spotter clinging on for dear life. Brett hefted out twenty-four reps before relaxing the floor back into place. Masonry dust filled the air, assaulting eyes and noses alike. Brett barely got a pump. “More weight… more mouse boys get onto this section of broken floor. Now… dammit!!!!” Brett wanted to break a sweat, even a little one. But there was no end to his strength. Hell, he could bench all this weight on the end of his dick if he wanted to. Reluctantly more men gathered onto the broken section of floor. One even sat down on Mouse Boy, who was now completely horny but crying at the same time. This was so humiliating, but his lust for Brett’s beauty and power overshadowed his pride. The bar was loaded with weight until it could bear no more. Two more spotters joined in, one on either side of the first guy. The section of floor now supported a dozen men. The weight was astronomical. But Brett could do it. He took the strain. He inhaled for what seemed like a minute, his monstrous chest bulking up to inhuman proportions. He pressed upwards with his mighty arms. The floor quivered a little, but slowly it went up, and up… and up. Brett’s dick grew larger and larger. The second cock-ring heated up and stretched with extreme fatigue. Veins exploded all over Brett’s body. He grew. And he grew some more. He was fucking huge. The weight grew lighter. “More bodies… more weight,” he screamed. “Please Brett… we’re fully loaded up here,” Mouse Boy pleaded. The floor began to crumble dangerously. It felt way too light. Finally, Brett gave in and let everything fall back into place. By the time he arrived back up from the basement, he’d shrunk back to around 600 lbs. But he was still a monster. “Bill me for the fucking damage,” he told the gym manager. And then to everyone else: “You’re all my man-bitches now. From now on you don’t train to look glamorous for photo shoots. You’re all to start hardcore bodybuilding. You’ll be drinking my tit milk and spunk as your protein. I want strong man-bitches to fuck. You got that?” All the men in the gym nodded obediently. They all wanted Brett so much. And just for a treat, Brett willed himself to get even more beautiful. His eyes got bluer and larger, his nose more rugged, his jaw more angular. His lips pouted fuller and his teeth sparkled brighter. His dimples grew a little deeper and his hair shone a more scintillating blonde. His neck became manlier and his Adam’s apple grew a little more prominent. His voice deepened and became even more masculine. Then he flexed his muscles and exploded out of the micro mankini. It had stretched as thin as hair on him and his gigantic cock made short work of the pouch. Women in the gym fainted. Brett got bigger and bigger. His muscles pushed out in all directions, becoming more cut, more striated. His body shone with glistening perspiration, simply because he willed his muscles to shine. “Still want more, you fucking twigs? Want your muscle-god Brett to get even bigger and more gorgeous?” “Oh yes,” came back the chorus. Brett concentrated and configured a double biceps pose. His muscles got larger. Mountainous cannonballs shot up as his biceps climbed higher than his clenched fists. Each bicep was five times the size of his head. His pecs swelled to mammoth size. His lats pushed out on either side, gorging on free space. His waist tapered as his oblique muscles and core abs became tighter and stronger. His legs became huge, with diamond hard cuts in between rolling muscles that left his balls with no room to hang, and so they were forced outwards, themselves swelling with size and power as he willed them to fill with his powerful, godly juice. He changed to a side chest pose. His pecs grew ever outward; truly muscle-tits to the extreme. His huge nipples gushed with milk, spraying everyone close enough to fight over it. The pec striations became deeper, darker. Dark shadows gathered beneath his pec shelf, soaking up the under-swell like a creeping black slick. His abs — now a twelve-pack—partially disappeared into the shadow cast by his pecs. He flexed more and more, grunting, screaming a manly caterwaul which declared his extreme power over his muscles and all those present who lusted to touch and get lost in them. He flexed down into a most muscular. Inhuman biceps hardened and bulged with deeper veins, dimpling into his pecs on each side. Cords thick as thumbs pushed out of his tree trunk neck as he grunted and growled and demanded more size and power from his muscles. He leaned harder and harder into the pose, and by now his dick was gushing his gorgeous nectar as readily as his tit glands. Everyone present was sprayed, driven into an orgy of uncontrollable extremes. Something occurred to Brett at this point: he could will his juice to grow everyone that partook of it. And he did. His incredible body began to pump it out of his dick and tits at a phenomenal rate. This didn’t deplete him in the slightest; in fact, it had the opposite effect; goading him on and making him stronger and more productive of fluids. All the men present drank of his juice, some fighting amongst themselves for the precious muscle-building liquid. This had the desired effect. Men in the gym began to grow. And seeing them grow around him made Brett want to grow even further. Hot, muscular studs transformed around him, first becoming middleweight bodybuilders, then light-heavy, heavyweight and so on. The air filled with the sound of lustful groans and moans of sheer delight and muscle-obsession. Clothing stretched and seams came apart. Some men couldn’t take it and came over and over, their spunk adding to the copious fluids splashing around the gym. Others were able to control their transformations and Mouse Boy bulked up to almost 400 lbs. Brett noticed this and chose Mouse Boy — whose real name was Declan — as his first. Brett was three times his size and weight at this point and so Declan felt weightless to him. “Fuck me into next week, Brett. Please!” Declan’s body stopped growing and he was huge at this point, easily way bigger than Mister Olympia. His body was delicious, huge and striated, with cuts that seemed hewn from glass. Brett wasted no time bending him over a machine and spreading his legs. Declan’s hole was that of a deeply muscled bodybuilder now, sporting thick, deliciously striated glutes between which a tasty hairy and sweaty hole gasped and implored to be penetrated. Brett’s massive twenty-four-inch dick was way too big to get into that moist pipe, but the Incredibly Aesthetic Muscle-God was too embroiled in his own insane muscle-lust to make his dick smaller. He barked an order to the next two biggest bodybuilders who he knew were completely drenched in his fluids. “Feed Mouse Boy. Let him lick my juice from your hot bodies. He needs to get bigger so he can take my dick. Do it now!!! GRRRRRRRR!!!!” Brett was in the zone. He kept his dick at its current size, but once Declan started to lap the cum from the bodies thrusting before him, so his growth spurted again. Dozens of pounds of muscle burst from his body and his hole equally grew and deepened. “Yeah, keep it up. I wanna fuck Mouse Boy so bad. He’s gonna enjoy being fucked by a god!!!” Just to make sure Declan didn’t surpass him in size and power, Brett molded his pecs to make his nipples point upwards, as he had done before. Muscle milk erupted from each oversized gland and he deftly guided the flow towards his mouth. This made him more powerful, and he exploded with a massive 500 lb. growth spurt in a few seconds. His height shot up to just under twelve feet. His strength was off the scale. Declan stopped growing at 850 lbs. or thereabouts. Huge, but nowhere near Brett’s scale. But at least he could now take Brett’s dick and started pushing back in sync with Brett’s enormously powerful forward thrusts. “Aw yeah….fuuuuuuck!!!” Brett couldn’t see what was happening below his gigantic pec-shelf, but he could feel it well enough. Declan’s buttocks felt amazing; tightening around Brett’s dick like they were designed for this function and nothing else. Brett willed the veins of his dick to harden and thicken to create better friction and so heighten the pleasure for both men. The feeling was like nothing he’d ever felt before. He wanted to keep Declan at this size, but wasn’t sure if it was possible. Did he really have the ability to do so? He wasn’t sure at this point. But he fucked him and fucked him, causing him to scream out things like: “Don’t let this end!” and “Brett, you’re a fucking god. Don’t stop!” But Mouse Boy could not be greedy. Other men in the gym were still bulking up thanks to Brett’s incredible body fluids. They all had to have their turn. Without a thought for Raj back at the penthouse, Brett took them all. The fucking lasted for hours. Brett continued to grow and get stronger. But eventually, when all men lay passed out on the floor of the gym — with equipment smashed and clothing lying in tatters all around him — Brett decided to take a break. An inexorable hunger washed through him. Not quite depleted, still, he needed to pace himself. He was new to this new life and power he’d been given. He had to explore it to discover the full range of his abilities. But he needed to eat. So, he shrank back to 500 lbs. and headed in to take a shower. Part Four: The Apology and So Much Growth A week passed, during which the smell of spunk in the penthouse of Brett Hillard never seemed to lessen with the passage of time. You only had to step into the capacious muscle-den to get horny enough to come all over the place, further adding to the compelling reek. But Brett was meticulous about such things and no drop of jizz was ever wasted. (except that one time, when he shot gout after gout of it out over the cityscape). Brett had a lot of growing to do, as did his man-bitches. Declan the Mouse Boy (oh how he hated that moniker) had been evicted from his apartment because he failed to meet the rent due to spending all his dosh on bodybuilding supplements. Brett let him stay at the penthouse until he could find another apartment with a landlord that wasn’t a dick. He even lent him some money to help him get out of a bind. Pete — or Chef Guy — continued to provide all the delicious meals a growing bodybuilder needed to get huge (and even ‘huger’). He liked pleasing the Muscle-God. Now he also had to cater to Declan’s food requirements. This wasn’t really a problem. All Declan ate was pasta bakes loaded with Brett’s ambrosial fluids, as well as the non-exhaustive chugging of gainer shakes. He worked out near-incessantly in the penthouse gym, always striving to better himself and grow for his mentor. He saw Brett as his mentor, although the Muscle-God didn’t really see himself in that role. He was too self-obsessed to ever spend time helping a lesser bodybuilder to get huge. All things considered, Declan seemed to be doing quite well. So much so, Brett would sometimes reward him by fucking him full of his amazing fluids. Pity the growth that ensued never stuck for more than an hour or so. Raj was feeling left out. One night in the sack, snuggled up next to the giant Adonis he said, “Are we officially a couple?” There was an earnest tone in Raj’s question. The bed creaked noisily as the 600 lb. muscle-monster rolled onto one enormous side to better address his boyfriend’s query. “Of course, we are. Isn’t it plain to see, little guy?” Brett had been calling Raj ‘little guy’ for several days. This was an upgrade from the ‘man-bitch’ status he reserved for all his fuck-buddies. “Yes, but… I don’t know, Brett. I seem to be drowning in muscle, of late.” “But you like being engulfed in all my amazing muscles… don’t you?” A hint of doubt rang from his tone, even as his humongous muscles twitched and flexed as he caressed his beautiful boyfriend. “Yes of course… but I thought we could have this place to ourselves. Pete is fine; we need him for our meals… but Declan living here, too?” Raj trailed off with an exhalation peppered with despair. “But we hardly see him, honey,” said Brett. He’d never called Raj ‘honey’ before. It felt like old married couple shit. Still, upon hearing it Raj’s eyes brightened a little. Seeing the tender side of Brett — however brief — was always nice. Brett went on: “This penthouse is huge. He practically lives and sleeps in the gym, only coming out for meals. We barely see him for more than a few minutes a day. His lust for growth is impressive.” “What about us? I know we haven’t been together that long, but we haven’t even been on a proper date. I’d love you to take me to a fancy restaurant and be romantic instead of always being cocky and self-obsessed.” Raj frowned with a little wetness in each eye. Brett got out of bed and flicked on a light. He was huge and naked standing over the bed. Raj got hard in a trice. “Brett not now. I’m too tired for sex. And a bit sore from the last pounding you gave me.” “Maybe if I hulk up to my biggest size ever, you’ll cheer up. Plus, we’ll go on a date tomorrow. I promise. I love you, Raj. Mouse Boy is just for fucking. I don’t have feelings for him. I’m just turned on by how much he wants to grow. But he’ll never be like this!” That was his cue to launch into a massive double biceps. Brett’s muscles snapped obediently into monstrous relief. Veins exploded all over his upper body as they fed his amazing serum-infused blood into every muscle-fiber. Then the fibers divided and thickened, resulting in more growth. He pumped up… impossibly huge. Growling seemed to help the process along. Brett dropped his arms and formed into a full lat spread. His lats flared wide and his pecs heaved upward, expanding… always expanding. Striations, dark and deep, cracked across his amazing muscle-tits. His cock slapped against his cobbled midsection with a loud, moist thump. Raj intermittently forgot about his woe and began to furiously beat his meat as his huge boyfriend got huger and huger before his eyes. Brett grew bigger and even more beautiful. His power was endlessly flexible; he could change his size at will whilst keeping the improvements to his face as the power applied them. His face just got more and more handsome, ruggedly so. His masculine lines knew no limits. His dimples developed dimples. His muscles enlarged to insane proportions. He changed his upwardly-curving giant dick to a downwardly-sloping one. It began to pour with precum. “Wanna drink and get huge, my love?” Raj groaned in bed and shot a premature load, much to their mutual dismay. The tacky fluid landed across Raj’s toned, naturally tanned chest. With just a little patch of dark hair between his somewhat unflattering pecs, Brett leaned down to lick up every drop, not wishing to waste the protein. It was also an expression of his love. “Take me on a date… then you can make me huge, darling,” Raj said, almost imploringly. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. It could only be Declan, as Pete was an employee of Brett’s and would never disturb them after hours. “What do you want, Mouse?” Brett’s voice was guttural and pissed-off sounding. “I smell come. Not the usual smell in the penthouse. Fresh stuff. I want some… please!” On the other side of the door, Declan sounded desperate. Brett thought about it for a second. Then: “Well now, Raj has already shot his load, which I licked to the last drop. So, you’re smelling my fresh precum. That’s what brought you here. You really can’t help yourself, can you, my little 300-pounder?” “I need to gorge on your fluids, and to become a massive bodybuilder… I need to grow,” Declan pleaded. “But your growth won’t stick. It’ll melt away like snow on a wet pavement before long,” Raj reminded the muscled interloper, almost relishing the prospect. He didn’t dislike Declan by any stretch; he just didn’t like him interrupting them during their intimate ‘boyfriend’ time. “So, what if it does? I can go back to the gym with my exaggerated muscles and pump iron so much, I’ll be snorting so much iron and sweat, I’ll choke.” Brett thought about it. Then: “He has been growing like a weed this past week. Even though his growth from my spunk and tit-milk is temporary, it’s helping him to build his body in the conventional sense. Raj, you should jot that one down in your observational notes for Doctor Weiss.” “Yes, I guess I should. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it, Brett!” Raj got out of bed and angrily stomped off to get his notes. “I’m too lusted-up to care about your feelings right now, Raj. Sorry if I hurt them though.” He didn’t sound like he’d meant it. And that was that for the night. Raj would sleep in one of the guest bedrooms. But for now: “I’m ballooning in size, Mouse Boy. Making my fluids nice and potent for you, heh heh!” Declan now lay on the come-sodden bed, with the giant Muscle-God casting a dark shadow over him. Brett’s now downwardly-sloping mega-cock streamed precum. Declan drank from it as though it were a faucet, gulping down the fluid as readily as Brett’s body could produce it. Whilst this went on below, Brett blew up his pecs so monstrously, they pushed his chin and head back to take up more room. His grew his nipples to dick-size and caused a torrential shower of tit-milk to rain down on Declan. The ‘not-such-a-Mouse-Boy-anymore’ stroked his own dick furiously, which triggered his growth and he began to get huge. “Holy shit, I feel a huge growth spurt coming on. Bigger than back at the gym when we first met!” Declan’s speech was broken up between the gurgles he made while gorging on Brett’s fluids, as well as his gasps of sheer muscle-lust and absolute bliss. “Keep going, Mouse Boy… get huge for Br—” Before he could finish: “DON’T FUCKING CALL ME THAT. GRRRRRRRR!” Declan exploded with rage. Drenched with Brett’s fluids, his growth was immense, and instant. Many hundreds of pounds of masculine muscle blasted out of his frame; in places his skin stretched painfully, resulting in red stretch marks that just barely avoided tearing. The bed collapsed under the weight of a 1000+ lb. behemoth who was drunk with power and the will to grow even larger. Despite his size, he moved with lightning speed, connecting a solid fist to the middle of Brett’s mammoth chest. The rock-hard pecs took much of the force, but enough remained to send Brett careening across the bedroom. He crashed into the wall with enough force to bring masonry down from above. Declan loomed over him, heaving with rage. “Who’s the Mouse Boy now, Brett?” Declan formed a massive double biceps, flaring his lats and swelling his pec-meats. His upper body exploded with mass and definition. The cuts between his muscles were deep and dark, and his body glistened with a sweaty sheen caused by the exertion of his growth. Then he did a full lat spread so immense, the bottom half of his face was swallowed up by pecs way larger than any Brett had ever sported. From across the room, in an open doorway, Raj caught it all on his camera phone. He was excited and terrified all at once, but scientific curiosity became the dominant emotion here, although he held the camera in shaky hands. “I’m suh-sorry, Declan,” Brett panted, clearly taken aback by this unexpected turn of events. He’d never been in a situation like this, in which he felt somewhat helpless. He somehow had to turn this to his advantage. “Can’t you see that you’re not always in control of your fate, Brett?” Declan was continuing to swell with size. His muscularity was immense. He’d easily passed 1200 lbs. in less than a minute, with no sign of slowing down. The more he flexed, the more his muscles liked it, and responded by growing larger, thicker, and more cut. His head scraped the ceiling of the room, and so he had to stoop. His dick was almost the size of a whole man, and it slammed repeatedly against his gigantic pecs as it twitched and spurted further growth. Despite being genuinely scared, the concentration of muscle musk in the room was now so great, that both men were stimulated by it. Brett was growing, but at a slower rate to Declan, who outmuscled him by 500+ lbs. It was then that Brett’s advantage came: “Fuck me, Declan. I’ll be your Mouse Boy for a change. You need to channel that rage into something, before you lose complete control.” Brett slowly got to his feet and offered his hole to Declan. The huge muscle-beast, also overcome with lust, couldn’t ignore such a tasty offer, and so he took Brett there and then, screwing him with his inhumanly massive come-pole. Brett’s strength was barely enough to push back sufficiently, but he just about managed it. Declan, about to lose all control over this temporary burst of power, drilled into Brett repeatedly, his massive shaft pummeling Brett’s muscle-ass enough to almost cause it to prolapse. Simultaneously, bent forward, Brett clamped his dick in between his mighty pecs and began drinking his own precum. He knew that when he blew his load proper, he’d need the extra energy to get the jump on Declan and finally regain control. Declan, not too experienced in fucking, came massively and sooner than he’d have liked. He pumped liter upon liter of his thick crème into his ‘mentor’ whose body drank it up like a sponge. This excited Brett’s serum-infused blood, and so his altered testosterone began coursing through him like never before. He came in his own mouth, and gallons of super-charged come torrented into his system, half of which was his own recycled stuff. Declan started to weaken and lose mass, gradually at first, but then the process accelerated. Brett didn’t grow, but willed his incredible body to become denser, and stronger because of it. All that charged come was absorbed into every cell in his body, and in his mind, he knew that he’d just become way more powerful than Doctor Weiss could ever have imagined. After about a minute, Declan was back to his 300 lb. self. He was exhausted, and collapsed into Brett’s arms, who then took him to a guest bedroom to recover. Brett shrank down to 750 lbs., but when he tried to get back to 600, he found that he couldn’t. “Wow, this must be my new default weight,” he marveled, catching himself in his mirrored sliding wardrobes that spanned an entire wall of his bedroom. Raj, naked and horny, went to his huge boyfriend, and felt even less of a man, now that Brett was even bigger. He was 6’8”, now, and his muscles were heaving and huge. He playfully bounced his pecs and they felt weighty and laborious to move. It was an awesome feeling, as though his muscles demanded that he grow stronger in order to exploit them to their fullest. “I’m so sorry about earlier, Raj. I was a jerk not to consider your feelings. Will you accept my apology?” Brett picked up Raj and before he could kiss him Raj said softly and sincerely: “Yes, of course. I love you, and maybe we rushed into this. But I’m still on the clock with Doctor Weiss’s research, so it’s a crazy volatile situation in which we’re both embroiled. We should expect the unexpected. I got it all on cam for Weiss. I hope you don’t mind.” “Of course, I don’t. You can put in on YouTube for all I care, although I expect it’d be flagged in a heartbeat.” “But I don’t want to try growing, myself. Not yet. Not until we know more about it. You might be able to control your growth and the lust it invokes, but lesser men? Declan couldn’t control himself. Had you not retaken control he might have exploded.” Brett nodded in agreement, lost in thought for a moment. Then, in a complete change of subject: “I’m taking you to the fanciest, most expensive restaurant in town tomorrow. So, we’d best get our glad rags on.” “Hmm,” began Raj, looking more contemplative than usual. He went through Brett’s vast clothing collection in the sprawling wardrobe. “Most of your clothes are stretchy, but you’re now many sizes too big for even your most accommodating garment. Can’t you de-hulk back to 600? Try it again. Really concentrate this time.” Brett did just that. But it was no good. He couldn’t get smaller than 750. His dick was larger, too. Secretly both men relished the fact that Brett’s new default size was much greater than before. But what about clothing? They spent two hours alone seeing Brett try on shirt after shirt. Some of them buttoned from the chest down, but none of them could close across his mighty mega-pecs. Other shirts of slightly lesser quality would blow apart at the shoulder seam, or at the biceps, as soon as he moved or twitched a muscle. It was fun for a while, bursting out of shirt after shirt. Likewise, pants were no joy. He couldn't even get a pair to go past his calves, let alone go up his gargantuan thighs. Eventually: “I doubt they’ll let a naked massive bodybuilder into their restaurant, no matter how much I bribe them. I’d really like to get dressed up for you, though. Something about clothing these massive muscles and being seen in public wearing clothes that barely leave anything to the imagination is quite the turn-on. For us both, no?” Raj agreed. And so did his boner. “Time to let my money do the talking. He reached for a phone and dialed the number for his personal clothier, Fortunato of the House of Trione, an Italian designer who only made clothing for muscled men and serious bodybuilders. Brett Hillard was a client, but he was now his BIGGEST client. Fortunato would have his work cut out, that was for sure. Brett had wakened the designer in the middle of the night. He didn’t sound pleased to be awakened from sleep, but Brett was succinct about his needs. “I’ve grown huge. Make me a new ensemble, and I want it ready by late afternoon tomorrow. I’ll quadruple your fee if you and your minions work through the night, plus I’ll throw in a yacht.” “Buh-but, it is so late, Brett darling. And I’d need to take multiple measu—” “I’ll laser scan myself and email you the measurements. I’m fucking huge now, and you’d better do a good job, or no yacht,” Brett interjected sharply. Fortunato really wanted a yacht. And so, he agreed to snap right to it and get to work making new clothes for the world’s hugest bodybuilder. *** At 3:45 pm the next day, the concierge buzzed up to the penthouse to inform its resident that a rack of clothes had arrived and that he would send them up. Brett was excited. His old clothes lay in tatters in his bedroom, and as penance for his behavior of the night before, he made Declan clean them up. Anything intact he could keep, which delighted Declan no end, as plenty of clothes remained that were now his for the taking. He was growing like a weed, and Brett’s cast-offs still reeked of his musk. Not only would Declan look amazing wearing designer couture for huge bodybuilders, but the smell would also keep him fluffed and lusty near-constantly. Raj went through some of the outfits on the rack and looked uncertain about some of them. “I think he gave you some room to grow, darling,” he said after a short examination. But the clothing was of the finest quality, even at such short notice. There were shirts and pants made of sumptuous fabrics — the best money can buy — all varied lengths and cuts, most of which were constructed so that they would flatter every delicious curve and bulge on Brett’s magnificent body. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll grow into them, heh heh!” Brett guzzled through a huge bowl of ice cream as he spoke. He didn’t have to worry about spoiling his appetite for dinner later. He rarely felt full, and he’d have to eat several more bowls before he came near to feeling that he’d ruined his appetite. The End
  5. timovdrow

    Pose for us, Bull (short scene)

    I wrote this short-scene a while back as a caption for the following photo. When I wrote this (and other similar content), I was just diving deeper into bodybuilding and how it articulated with my muscle fetish, especially as it relates to domination and submission; and I really got into imagining my ideal D/S dynamic through this captions, informed by my conversations with different admirers/growers/doms at that time. But as with many things, I let it fall to wayside. It wasn't until this week that I started thinking more intentionally about this again. As I continue to work with my coach and enter a lean bulk, I want to draw from this side of my psychosexuality again to really push my limits day in and day out -- after all, bodybuilding is about consistent dedication and effort. But I didn't know where to pick things up again. So it was a happy coincidence when I came across a topic in the general section on the theme of "growth as submission" the same day I decided to browse some of my blog's older posts. This is a quick edit but if folks are receptive and interesting in the themes, styles, etc here, I would be very motivated to follow through with a longer project to dive deeper. The plan would be to explore the progression of this dynamic using the seven deadly sins as a framework. Anyway, anyway, here's Wonderwall (lol). ___ “Sir, must I really pose like this for your friends?” he asked with stink on his face. You'd just finished a group workout. Some pals from out of town wanted to get a quick sweat session in during their visit, so you suggested a local kickboxing class later that afternoon. You knew that this type of exercise wouldn’t enough for your bull – cardio with a little pump is all it was for him, – but you dragged him along anyway. Your friends would appreciate seeing him in action after all. They had ogled over him the time before, privately commenting to you about him in a fluster: “His arms are so big!” “You get to sleep on that chest at night? So lucky!!” “I wish my boyfriend looked that good.” This time around, you had the devilish idea of giving your lusty friends a show, having your bull go through the post-workout posing routine he usually performs in your bedroom. But, you were sure that your friends wouldn’t see the full scope of what this show meant. They were white-collar types more interested in having fun with a side of fitness. Spin or Crossfit classes and brunch white-collar types. So they'd probably see his posing routine as sensual at first -- and who could blame them. Big man in underwear. Simply groundbreaking. Eventually eyes will start to wander, missing the purpose behind each movement. More muscles? What's next. At least if you know your bull. He'll probably be shy and conservative, giving half-hearted flexes at the top of each pose. Amazing to most but practically limp in your eyes. But you’re prepared to push his boundaries today. “Yes I’m serious. Give us a taste of how you’ve been coming along, big guy,” you demand, taking a seat with the rest of your friends chatting in between sips of Gatorade. He gives a shy double-bi towards the mirror, displaying his 19” arms and robust shoulder-chest tie ins. His tank rides over his belly a good hand-width. Your friend Charlene glances over from her conversation and gives a short hoot, “Looking good!” You catch his eyes, glancing down at his torso and legs, his tank and shorts, and back to his face. You nod and mouth “off.” He grimaces and returns a pained expression; clearly he’d rather not. You mouth “off,” again, knitting your eye brows sternly. Begrudging, Bull begins to pull his shorts down and toss them to his side, the tank following. That left him in just your favorite pair of white briefs, nearly every inch of his growing body exposed to strangers. “He’s going to be preparing for a show, guys, so I think it’s best to have get into the spirit.” The rest of your friends turn to look at the curated specimen in front of them. It was hard not too – without the oversized shirt and basketball shorts, his enhanced development was more than evident. You both had been working diligently to thicken up a lot more before dieting down for his contest, putting extra effort into piling more meat onto those delts and traps. You both wanted a bull with a neck worthy of a yoke. Taking a deep breath, he began anew, locking eye contact with you and only you. He hit pose after pose, never breaking sight despite comments being thrown around: “He’s definitely gotten bigger!” "Oh my god, he must eat for an entire family." "That's kinda cool, I guess." He hit a most muscular as his finisher, bringing in his arms tight over his torso and showcasing the fibers and new vascularity over his shoulders and traps – you both noticed that they had begun to swallow up his neck in the last few weeks, especially in this position. “More,” you mouth. He brings his arms in closer, bulging his traps out higher. “More,” you mouth again. His fists clench harder; his eyes begin to glaze over, and you notice his entire body pulse as he brings his muscles to contract even harder. Just for you. He’s beginning to shake from the effort, small veins snaking higher and higher across his chest and neck. You know what he’s thinking, how he’s feeling. He’s been there before with you: I’m a growing muscle bull, growing bigger and bigger because I need to. Let me show you, sir. Let me show you how big I want to be. Please. “And that’s the end!” you say to your friends, motioning to your bull to stop and get dressed. His eyes widen and cheeks redden, immediately turning around to grab his clothes. Scanning their faces, your initial prediction was correct: they don’t get it. Some were looking at their phones; one gave a fake smile, and another continued to look at him with contorted confusion on his face. “He really looked kind of scary for a second,” one whispers to you. Your bull notices this, throwing you a desperate glance. “We’re planning to come in about 10lbs heavier next year too! Maybe 15 of lean muscle, if we work harder.” “Don’t you think that’s too big?” another asks. Your bull approaches the group, half-dressed and drenched in more sweat after his posing; he looks at you, eyes wide with anticipation for how you’re about to respond. “No. I want him bigger. And he likes that too,” you say boldly, giving his shoulder a tight squeeze. Your fingers can’t dig into his meaty delts anymore; they’re harder than before. He reflexively tights his shoulders even more, pushing your fingers out. His cheeks are fiery red. Is that a little guilt you feel? Bull turns to you, your friends, and back to you, speaking through a quivering but excited voice, “Yeah, he’s right. It’s almost an addiction, but better bodybuilding than smoking.” No, that's pride. __________ “You know that once you hit 240, you’re gonna get more comments like that,” you say. He puts down a shaker bottle full of protein and all sorts of supplements alien to you, responding, “yeah, but I’ll get used to it. My current physique is on the edge of sensibility, but posing for them all today and…losing myself…it felt amazing.” “Because your routine was on point?” “No, because I felt like I didn’t care. I was posing for you, even when you pushed me further and I freaked out your girlfriends,” he murmured looking down at his feet. He sighed, throwing a slight smile at you and finishing the rest of his protein shake. “Though to be honest, I think they were busier looking at your boner than my poses towards the end.”
  6. Mikeytron

    My Best Friend's Muscles

    My Best Friend's Muscles by Mikeytron I posted this story on metabods over the last few weeks, but I felt I should share it here as well. You can check it out over there if you'd like, as well as several of my other stories - M Part One I posted the human trial to our work Slack expecting the guys to go nuts when they saw it. After all, the results were, in a word, stunning. I didn’t think anyone would react right away, though. It was 2:11 in the morning when I finished preparing the report, sitting in my dark basement, the unhealthy glow of my computer screen the only light. Surely I was the only one awake. I was wrong, though. The channel blew up almost instantly. I guess we’re all nightowls. It would fit the stereotype. “Holy fuck, Rob, these are beyond my wildest dreams,” typed Eli. “Real sci fi shit.” “You sure you didn’t just give all these guys tren instead?” typed Anderson. “No way, these results are better than tren,” Eli replied. “Guys I’m so excited, we’re gonna make a hundred million bucks,” typed Hakan. “Fuck that man, we’re gonna make the biggest bodybuilders the world has ever seen,” typed Matteo. “Haha, you’re always thinking with your dick,” Eli replied to Matteo. “Tell me you’re not hard as a rock right now,” Matteo replied to Eli. “I’m dripping,” Eli replied, with a tongue-sticking-out emoji. You could say ours was not the typical workplace. We don’t technically have a team leader, but the role kind of fell to me, and I knew I had to reel in the others before their excitement got out of hand. Keep their eyes on the prize. They were like puppies, sometimes. Geeky, muscle-obsessed, scientifically brilliant gay puppies. “Settle down everyone,” I typed. “Go jack off and get some sleep, tomorrow we’ve got to plan how to sell this.” “You’re no fun,” Matteo replied with a gif of a cartoon character dramatically weeping. “@everyone Brunch on my rooftop, 11 am. Go get your beauty sleep ladies” Hakan replied. I closed Slack with a smile. I fully intended to take the first half of my own advice. It was definitely wank o’clock. But I had no idea how I’d sleep at all, afterward. This was one of the most exciting moments of my life. We had actually done it. I glanced through the PDF of the results one last time, already painfully erect, leaking pre as I read. 16 week trial. Control group of 25 men, following a workout routine designed for hypertrophy, eating an identical diet. Average muscle gain, confirmed by DEXA scan: 5.7 lbs. Group A, 25 men, taking 100 mcg of the compound daily, following the same workout routine, the same diet. Average muscle gain, confirmed by DEXA scan: 20.1 lbs. Group B, 25 men, taking 200 mcg of the compound daily, same workout, same diet. Average muscle gain, confirmed by DEXA scan: 31.6 lbs. One man in Group B had added 42 lbs of muscle. In a little less than four months. Fuck. I couldn’t help it. Knowing my teammates were likely doing the exact same, I slipped my underwear down, my hard cock bobbing proudly, a pearl of precum glistening in the blue light of the computer screen. I jerked off to the PDF. There weren’t any pictures, just data tables and graphs, but it was more than enough. My thoughts swirling over what we were about to unleash on the world. * Like I said, there are five of us working on this project. It’s too long and too boring to tell how we all got in touch with each other, but we’re all gay, we’re all friends, we all work in biotech or medical research, and we all have a thing for muscle. Not just a little muscle. Not just a little thing. We’re all size and growth fetishists of the most extreme bent. As for our little venture… It started as a side project, something we kept under wraps. It began as empty talk in our group chat, how we wished we could be a team of muscle growth scientists with a stable of ever-growing bodybuilders who we could enjoy at our leisure. It was a running gag for a bit, talking about our muscle growth lab/dungeon. Then the talk took a more definite shape over cocktails one fateful Friday night. The various things we were working on, research papers we had fortuitously just read, some inventive lateral thinking, a few productive what-ifs…. We did the modeling. It looked promising. Then the pandemic hit, and, well… we decided to go for it. Synthesize the compound and see if it works the way the computer says it will. We had so much time on our hands, why not moonlight as a cabal of gay mad scientists in Anderson’s garage or Matteo’s basement? A little borrowed equipment here, a few vials of grey market research compounds there… The theoretical work was already done. Why not see what it does in vivo? The first tests on rodents showed such shocking results, we knew we couldn’t stop there. That’s where I kind of fell into the leadership role. I took care of the paperwork establishing our company. I found the investors to get us off the ground. I filed the patent paperwork. And I set up the human trials. Going around local gyms, recruiting men willing to inject an experimental chemical if it meant they might get bigger. And now here we were, more than a year later, having successfully captured lightning in a bottle. We had an entirely novel compound that induced extreme hypertrophy in a high testosterone environment. It wasn’t difficult to synthesize. It wasn’t difficult to administer. It seemed to have no significant negative side effects. And now we just had to sell it. * “I’ve got the perfect idea,” Matteo said, his dark eyes sparkling. He always looked most adorable when he was enthused about something. We first met on Scruff a few years back, slowly revealing the full extent of our muscle growth fetish to each other over DMs. We met, we fucked like rabbits for about two weeks, and then smoothly transitioned into being friends, like you do. “Yeah?” I responded. The four of us were sitting around a table on the roof of Hakan’s downtown Toronto condo, waiting for our host to return. It was a beautiful summer day. “You’ll love it. We do one last trial.” He could see my face souring, he knew I wanted to launch as soon as we could. “Wait, listen. One last trial, each of us asks our favourite bodybuilder to take our compound for 10 weeks and then we use before and after pics for an advertising blitz. We’ll launch at the end of the 10 weeks so we’ll have plenty of work to do. But the impact from instagram alone would be unreal. Regan Grimes adds 35 lbs of raw muscle and he did it all thanks to, uh… whatever we’re calling this.” “Yeah, Rob, what ARE we calling this?” Hakan, the fifth member of our group, interjected as he approached the table bearing a tray of fizzing champagne flutes and the half-empty bottle. He always had a flair. “Well, why don’t we each come up with our best idea for a name and then have a secret vote,” I suggested, accepting the glass Hakan handed me. “Pfft,” Anderson said, taking a glass. “Everyone will just vote for their own suggestion.” “So ask all the guys from the trial to vote on it too, whatever, it’s a free focus group.” Eli waved his hand dismissively before grabbing his glass. “You’re all ignoring Matteo’s frankly excellent idea.” “What’s your idea?” Hakan asked, handing Matteo the penultimate glass before taking the last for himself. “That we recruit five bodybuilders to be our final guinea pigs and our first spokes-brutes.” Hakan settled into his seat, compressed his lips as if considering. “I like it. Dibs on Iain.” “I already called dibs on Regan, and since it’s my idea I get double-dibs,” Matteo quickly added. “I want Antoine,” Eli added. “If we’re keeping it Canadian.” Anderson gestured imperiously. “You are all such predictable queens.” “Well, what super-heavyweight do you want to sponsor, since you’ve just got to be the iconoclast?” “Joe Seeman.” “Who?” Blank looks from the other guys, although I recognized the name. “And you call yourself a muscle fetishist! Coach Little Joe on Instagram,” Anderson replied with the air of an art snob having to identify Van Gogh’s “Sunflowers” to a room full of ignorant tourists. “Ooooh, yeah, him, he WOULD be really hot with another 30 or 40 lbs of muscle on him.” “What about you, Rob?” All eyes turned to me. I looked around at the guys, their faces shining like kids writing their Christmas wish lists. Derek Lunsford? Hunter Labrada? Nick Walker? Names flickered through my mind, a whirlwind of visual memories, thousands of nights spent with my cock in my hand, scrolling through Instagram and Tumblr and Twitter, gorging my fevered brain on muscle, more muscle, more muscle, more muscle… who would I gift this magic elixir to? What bulging skin-straining roid-freak, already existing at the current limit of muscular possibility, did I want to explode with another few dozen pounds of raw beef? “I need some time to think about it,” I said, but I was lying. I knew exactly who I wanted to blow up. “Anyway,” I said, raising my champagne flute. “Cheers, guys. To muscle. To us.” “Let’s make some monsters!” Matteo exclaimed as he clinked his glass against mine, and we all drank to that.
  7. Part 1 I had graduated from art school a few months ago, but was still working as a barista at a coffee shop. Finding work as an artist was tough, so I had to keep working that crappy job until I could find something better. To take my mind off of that, I went to the gym to workout. Even though I didn’t know that much about lifting weights, I did what I could to build muscle. I always admired (and lusted after) huge muscle guys, wondering how they got so big. I had an athletic build, but my body was extremely small compared to those guys. I always wished I could be as big as them. When I hit the gym floor, I noticed two massively built older guys doing the bench press together. They were both wearing string tanks, tight shorts, weight belts and training shoes. They looked like they were 6 feet tall and weighed 280 pounds each and about 50 years old. Both were ruggedly handsome, one bald with a beard, the other with short dark hair and a mustache. And both their cocks were showing in those tight shorts underneath large muscle guts. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them as they took turns lifting the bar, loaded with four plates on each side. One grunted out rep after rep, while the other one encouraged him to keep going. They would slap each other on the chest after each set. “Good job, man! Looking pumped!” I could see their dicks harden and grew during the set. I moved to a flat bench next to them and hoped to get a better look while I worked my chest. I put 45-pound weights on each side of the bar and tried to get to ten reps. After a few, I started to struggle. “Hey little man, need some help?” I heard a deep voice ask. I looked up and saw a bald, bearded face staring down at me above a pair of massive pecs and a huge bulge. “Um, sure,” I responded. He put his hands under the bar, helping to guide it as I continued to push up and down. “There you go, keep pushing. Stay in form. That’s it.” His encouraging words helped me through the set, as I finished out the full ten reps. I sat up and turned to him and smiled. “Thanks, that was helpful.” He smiled back. “No problem. Do you want me to spot you for the rest of your set?” “Oh, I don’t want to interrupt your workout with your friend over there.” I motioned over to the other daddy, who was talking on his phone and adjusting his cock. “Oh, he has to take care of some business, so it’s all good.” “Ok, sure!” I got excited that this huge muscle daddy was helping me workout and I started to pop a boner in my sweats. I laid back down on the bench, hoping he didn’t notice my hardon. I started my next set and he guided me through it. His deep voice calmed me as I focused on lifting the bar up and down. The weight didn’t feel as heavy now. I did two more sets, feeling pumped at the end. “Good job! You got a nice pump from that!” He exclaimed, looking down at my pecs. I blushed, still feeling tiny compared to him. I looked down and caught his dick moving in his shorts. “Yeah, good job!” said the mustached daddy, who walked over, or waddled more accurately. His dick bounced as he moved. “Thanks. I’m pretty new to working out, so I’m still trying to learn the ropes.” I smiled sheepishly. They both exchanged glances. The bearded daddy said, “You want to work out with us? We can show you a few things. We have been doing this for awhile.” He raised his arm, flexed his thick bicep and laughed. My cock hardened immediately. “Sure!” I said, surprised at the invitation. They both slapped me on the back and chuckled. “Good! I’m Terrell and this is Tony.” Both reached out their meaty hands to shake my much smaller one. My cock quivered at their touch. “I’m Josh. Nice to meet you.” They led me over to a cable machine and set the weight up. I followed their instructions as they taught me proper form and technique. Hearing their deep voices tell me what do while working out my chest turned me on so much. I had to keep adjusting myself so my hardon wasn’t visible. But as the workout went on, the more intense it got and I soon forgot all about that and just focused on lifting weights. All I could hear were their voices telling me what to do as my pecs pushed themselves to the limit. By the end, my chest felt destroyed, but totally pumped. “Great workout, Josh. You really killed it!” Terrell said patting me on my chest with his giant hand. “Yeah, I’m impressed,” Tony remarked, also patting me on my chest. “Really?” I was practically out of breath and completely drenched in sweat. They were both covered in sweat and their pecs had swelled even more from the workout. I felt like a toothpick standing next to them. They were so wide and thick, packed with dense, veiny muscle. Every time they moved, their muscles twitched. I felt light headed being surrounded by so much muscle. I bent over to catch my breath. “You ok, Josh?” Tony asked. “Yeah, but I think that workout killed me, though.” Both laughed. “Good, that way you know it’s working!” He slapped me on the back. “We gotta run, but you wanna work out with us again sometime?” I looked stunned. Why were these muscle gods so willing to help me? “Um, yeah, I’d love to!” “Cool. How about you meet us here tomorrow at the same time?” “Ok, see you then!” I wiped sweat from my face. “Make sure to eat plenty of food today and get lots of sleep. You don’t want to waste those gains!” Then Tony reached into his duffle bag and pulled out some pills. “Oh, and take these supplements, they will help you recover from the brutal workout today. We want you nice and rested for the torture we’re going to put you through tomorrow! Haha!” I laughed nervously with him. “See you tomorrow, Josh!” said Terrell, patting me on my bubble butt while he and Tony waddled out of the gym. I was stunned. I felt so lucky that those two muscle daddies trained me. And they were going to train me again! I eagerly popped the pills that they gave me and washed them down with water. I went home, ate a ton, and then went to bed early, dreaming of those two muscle daddies. Part 2 The next day I bolted out of work and ran straight to the gym. As soon as I walked in the door, I saw Tony and Terrell standing at the front desk, looking massive. I got hard instantly. I hoped I could make it through the workout without embarrassing myself. They smiled and waved at me. “Ready for your next training session?” Terrell asked while putting his meaty hand on my shoulder. My dick twitched from his touch. “Yeah, I’ve been looking forward to it!” “Good! And it looks like you kept that chest pump from yesterday!” Tony beamed as he put his hand on my pecs. My dick twitched again. I was in heaven. Terrell handed me some more pills and a bottle of liquid. “Before we begin, take these supplements and pre-workout. They’ll help you get a better workout and pump.” I happily swallowed the pills and washed them down with the drink. I could feel my body already getting pumped. “Good boy,” he said while patting me on my ass. We made our way to gym floor and started my training session. They stood on either side of me as I lifted, correcting my form as I went. Once again, their deep voices lulled me into a trance, my mind focusing only on lifting weight. I could feel my muscles swelling as the weight and intensity increased. Before I knew it, I had finished the session. My back and biceps were on fire. “Great job, Josh! Your back is looking yoked!” exclaimed Tony from behind me while putting his hands all over my back. He moved closer and I could feel a bulge press slightly into my backside. “Fuck, man, your guns are looking big!” cried Terrell from the front. “Let’s see them. Give us a double bi!” Hesitantly, I raised both my arms and flexed. They had never felt so swollen before. His eyes lit up as he moved closer to feel them. “Thatta boy!” he said squeezing my arms while gently pressing his pecs and bulge into me. I waivered and felt like I was about to pass out. “Easy there, Josh! You ok?” Terrell released my arms and held me by my waist. “Yeah, just a little wiped out from the workout.” I wiped the pouring sweat from my forehead. “Looks like you need to eat. Wanna grab a bite to eat with us?” Tony asked. “Uh, sure,” I replied, still unsteady from the intense workout. “I gotta shower first, though.” “No problem. We’ll wait for you by the front desk.” He patted me on my ass as I headed to the locker room. I quickly showered and got dressed. I was half expecting them to be gone when I came out, but there they were, still looking massive. I couldn’t believe my luck. We headed down the block to a small restaurant and found a booth to sit in. I sat on one side where Terrell joined me. Tony sat across from us. Both guys were so big, they couldn’t fit on one side together. Even with my much smaller build, Terrell still crowded me as his large arms sat against mine. My dick pitched a tent in my pants. After we perused the menu, the waiter came over and his eyes widened as he looked at Tony and Terrell. I could see his dick move in his pants. “Um, what’ll you guys have?” Looking at the menu, Terrell ordered. “I’ll have the whole chicken, two orders of rice, and two orders of steamed broccoli.” I gulped at the thought of eating that much food in one sitting. Tony chimed in, “Yeah, I’ll have the same.” “Wow, you guys are hungry!” the waiter marveled. “Well, you gotta eat to get big,” boasted Tony as he flexed a bicep. The waiter balked at the size of Tony’s arm. Then the waiter turned to look at me. “Um, I guess I’ll have…” Terrell interrupted. “Why don’t you start him out with half of what we ordered, and we’ll go from there.” I looked stunned. Why did he order for me? “All right, I’ll bring it out when it’s ready!” He turned and went to the kitchen, adjusting his pants along the way. I was about to speak up, when Terrell turned to me, his big, brown eyes boring a hole through me as he spoke. “I didn’t want you to lose any of the gains you made today, so I ordered you the best and healthiest option here. I hope you don’t mind?” All resistance faded in me as he said that. “I don’t mind. You know what’s best for building muscle,” I acquiesced. He smiled and patted my leg. “Good boy.” Tony rested his elbows on the table and leaned in, his arms flexing as he did so. “You did great today Josh. We think you have the potential to get big. That is, if you want to.” “Yeah, I do. I’ve always wanted to be big. But I’ve never been able to grow past a certain point.” “We can help you if you like. We’ve been looking for a boy to train and you have the determination, seriousness, and looks that we require. Would you like us to train you?” His arms flexed some more. My cock hardened and shifted in my pants. “Yeah, I’d love that, but I can’t afford trainers right now. I’m just a barista at a coffee shop!” They both laughed. “No, we don’t want your money! But, there are some things we would require from you.” The muscles on his big arms rippled, from his forearms to the top of his delts. I got a little lightheaded. “Like what?” I was excited about the prospect of training with them all the time and getting bigger. Terrell chimed in. “Well, you would have to do everything that we tell you to do. But, you’ve already proven that you can take direction, so that’s good.” He squeezed my leg with his hand, grazing the hardon in my pants as he did so. “And we would need to monitor your bodybuilding progress closely. Like making sure you eat and sleep enough, that you’re taking the right supplements, and taking proper care of your body.” I got even harder hearing Terrell say those words. I had always wanted someone to train me and make me bigger. “So that would require you moving in with us. We have a large brownstone where you would have your own room and privacy. It’s not that far from here.” My mouth dropped open. They wanted me to move in with them? I just met them yesterday! “Um, wow, that’s a lot to take in. I don’t know…” Tony reached under the table and grabbed my leg. “You can think about it. But we would pay for everything: room and board, food, and supplements. All you have to do is workout, cook and prep food, and grow. You wouldn’t have to work. We just want to make sure you grow as big as possible.” They were both looking at me and I didn’t know what to say. Could I just uproot my life and move in with these guys? But the idea was awfully tempting. I hated my job, I lived in a crappy apartment with a lousy roommate, and I always wanted to be big. Plus, I would get to spend time with two incredibly hot muscle daddies! “You know what, that actually sounds great to me. I’ll do it!” They both cheered. “Perfect, we can head over to our place right after we eat!” Terrell said just as the food arrived. We all dug in and happily devoured our meals. Part 3 is below
  8. CW: m/m, voyeur, incest, muscle worship, muscle growth. (read part 1) Things only got worse after graduation. Or better. I'll leave that up to you. For me, my muscle fetish had only just begun, reinforced by years of superheroes and cartoons, exaggerated by That Night. I'd taken to referring to it as That Night in my journal, the night I first saw my muscle freak brother being licked from head to toe in his bedroom. Anyway, after graduation, I kept up on my swimming and Nate kept on lifting. He quickly gained a reputation, despite being a freshman. How could he not? He had already packed on a ton of extra mass since leaving high school. I didn't have the stats I wanted, his weight and how much he could bench, but I believed my own eyes. He didn't just look bigger. He looked like he was getting bigger faster. His shirts fit like they'd been picked out of the kids section, pulled so tight across his muscle tits that little holes had already torn over his bust. Yeah, that's what happens when you stuff rock hard pecs the size of couch cushions into a shirt and not a tarp. Those pecs turned every top he wore into a midriff-baring delight; the shelf of his pecs lifted his shirt up from his waist, revealing the twisted labyrinth of his 10-pack abs. They looked like they could crunch coals into diamonds. Worse, their extreme V-shape was like a huge arrow that pointed downward. Nate's junk was the first thing anybody noticed. I know the school nurse had questioned if he had some kind of condition. Nobody should be that big and that hard that often, but I knew the real reason. I knew he turned himself on being so big. I knew he got hard just existing in that hyper-pumped body. I knew he orgasmed just taking in his own reflection, without even touching that horse cock that had to be stuffed down one leg of his painted-on jeans, all the way down to his knee. Heck, he could make me cum without touching myself, whenever he flexed a watermelon bicep for some girl and his cock throbbed against his thigh. The girls? Unlike myself, a scarecrow that couldn't find a date, he was popular with the ladies. They had to line up just to stand next to him. There was no end to the train of women ready to get a taste of him. Busty girls, fit girls, flat-chested girls, skinny girls, thick girls, cheerleaders, nerds, geeks, gymnasts, teachers, other students' moms... I couldn't tell if he had a girlfriend or if they were all his girlfriends. That is, until Oceana came. She was something else. You could tell just by looking into her eyes--which I tried just once and never again. Behind those deep browns flecked with icy blue, I saw myself. Not my reflection, but actually my own hunger, my own desire, the same drive that kept me scouring the internet into the early hours of the morning beating my aching purple dick to the biggest muscular beasts I could find, to the insane morphed muscle that I hoped deep down my own brother would soon come to resemble: unbridled muscle lust. She had it and she had it in spades. I saw her appetite plain as day. Nate and Oceana became inseparable. She was more than just another young body to use like a wad of tissue. She was the closest thing to a real trainer that he ever had and his body positively blew up under her tender care. I remember wondering what she could have possibly contributed to his workouts; Oceana wasn't exactly buff or anything, although she was fit, tall as a model, long legs, washboard abs, long wavy black hair, cute face with thick eyebrows and a great smile on a square jaw. She didn't look the part, but her hunger made her the perfect candidate. My brother continued to sample every girl that came his way, but Oceana was special. I wouldn't know how special until the middle of the semester, but before I get to that, there's another story I should mention and some clarifiers I should make. You might think this story is about Nate, and you wouldn't be wrong, technically, but it's really about the journey of my muscle fetish from innocent infatuation to obsession. I continued to spy on my brother most nights of the week, peeking through his bedroom window to watch him lift weights or flex or fuck the brains out of a blonde or brunette. I did a lot of window shopping. I didn't and don't consider myself gay. Bicurious is a phrase I ran into years later and that might be more accurate. I was on the hunt for a girlfriend, too, if anyone could ever notice me in my brother's mountainous shadow, but at the same time, I was whacking off to bodybuilding competitions and pump room videos. When reality itself became unsatisfying, I turned to erotic stories on sites like Metabods. I even took up drawing to create my own hideously gorgeous muscle freaks, put them up in the shower and beat my meat to their inhuman bodies, destroying the evidence afterward. I couldn't let anybody know I had these feelings. Especially my brother--I still thought he'd kill me if he discovered what I was doing. Probably rip me in half and eat me. This unfortunately meant that the one thing I never got to do was the one thing that dominated my thoughts 24-7. Touch. I wanted to touch a jacked bodybuilder's muscles, just once, feeling all that mass piling up under smooth skin, bulging with a flex, fibers tensing, veins pulsing, feeling a muscle swell in my hands, grip it hard to see if I could even put a dent in it. I'd wanted to feel that for years. I finally got my chance one night and got more than I bargained for... "Ah shit." I couldn't tell what Nate was doing or what was bothering him. Whenever we showered after a swim (for me) and a workout (for him) on those late night trips to the gym, I made sure to not look. I showered with my back toward him. The last thing I wanted was to get caught gawking with a hardon for all his bulging shredded meat. But I could feel him staring down at me. "Hey, bro," he said. His voice was loud and heavy, so close behind me. I glanced over my shoulder but just to show I was paying attention. "Yeah? What is it?" I replied. "Forgot my crap. My back scrubber. Can't reach anymore, dude." I turned around a little more, swallowing hard. The golden brown edifice of his body came into sight. "Y-you can't reach?" I managed. "Yeah. Fuck. My back. Been hitting the weights too hard, I guess. Too big and sore," and he laughed, "so could you...?" (access the full story at patreon.com/pumpculture)
  9. Hey there. Here's a story. It's about muscles and stuff. The nature of desire. The ache of it. But also muscles. I hope it pleases. THE CHAMPION It had been a triumph. He was blowing up Instagram. He was THE cover of every muscle mag that still printed. People would buy copies to commemorate it. The reddit thread already had thousands of comments. ADAM NOVAK: BIGGEST MR. O IN HISTORY He’d only started lifting four years ago, in his early twenties. He only competed for the first time as an amateur two years ago. Got his pro-card last year. Qualified for the O this year. Nine months later, a rookie winner. No one expected it. Lots of people expected him to finish second or third no matter how obvious his dominance, just to make him “work for it” and “earn it” in a year or two. But it became obvious at the show itself: if they’d crowned anyone else, there would have been rioting. He was unlike anyone who had ever stepped on a bodybuilding stage. He was so enormous, it was alarming. Frightening. And he was so young and got there so quickly. The comments online were fast and furious. Things like: “Is there any limit to how big this kid can get?” “What the hell are they feeding him?” “Did a muscle growth experiment escape its lab?” But also things like: “it’s too much.” “Disgusting.” “What happened to old school aesthetics?” “He’s gonna be dead of a heart attack in 18 months.” He put his phone down, caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror across the restaurant where his crew had taken him to celebrate. Fuck, he didn’t look human. Handsome face - he was only 26 - straight nose, big expressive eyes, firm generous lips, Hollywood jawline, thick dark hair kept short, but not too short - just enough to show its curl on his brow. But the rest of him. Fuck. He bulged. He burgeoned. He looked fit to explode, like his skin was barely holding back the giant round forms of his muscles. He took up twice the space of a normal human. Three times the space. He couldn’t move right, he was so huge. His buddy had to help him eat. He knew the stats. Everyone knew the stats. 5’8”. 358 lbs at registration - probably closer to 370 now that he’d been carbed up. 2% bodyfat. 30” arms. 46” thighs. 80” chest. Ramy, Roelly, Hadi, Brandon, Iain, Hunter, all of them were dwarfed by him. His shirt, the only thing he could fit into that came anywhere close to formal wear, was splitting at the seams - literally, it had already torn in two places, small tears, for now. It was custom made. He hadn’t paid for it, the company that made it had volunteered, as long as he did a social media promo. But they made it weeks ago, not expecting him to grow into the show. He had definitely grown into the show. “Where did this kid come from?” Just a little town in southern Ontario, nowhere special. * THREE YEARS EARLIER Adam had to lift pretty late at night because of his job and his classes. He was almost done with the degree. He hoped it’d land him a better job, one that would allow him to lift at a more sensible time. But for now, he showed up at the gym around 11 pm and generally left a little after midnight. It was one of those gyms where members all had a fob to open the door, and there wasn’t always staff on site. This night, the few guys who were there already left not too long after Adam arrived. He had the whole 20,000 square feet to himself. He felt dwarfed by it. He’d been lifting for nine months now, had some newbie gains to show for it, but he still felt out of place. He just looked kind of fit, at best. A little muscle on him but nothing special. He launched into his next set, machine rows, and he really got into the rhythm of it. Slow cadence - he knew not to use momentum, he knew to emphasize time under tension. Pull, squeeze, return, stretch, repeat. His baby lats burned but he kept at it. These are the reps that count, he told himself. This is where the growth is. When he finished, he looked up and saw a bodybuilder sitting on a bench, watching him. Adam was confused - he was certain he’d been alone for twenty minutes or more. He hadn’t heard anyone come in. Had this guy been in the lockers all this time? And he was blatantly staring. Adam took out his phone and toyed with it, hoping the bodybuilder wouldn’t start anything. He didn’t want trouble. He just wanted to finish his workout. If Adam had noticed the time on his phone, or looked up at the clock on the wall, he would have seen that it struck midnight during the set of rows he’d just finished. Adam heard a voice and felt a presence looming. “Hey kid.” His mouth went dry and he looked up. The bodybuilder was huge. Like, pro huge. Some pros went to this gym but Adam rarely saw them because he always came in so late. Adam’s dick began stiffening automatically at the display of bulging pecs, thick veiny arms, quads exploding out of the bottom of tiny shorts hiked high, calves like two footballs clutched by veins like tree roots. He couldn’t help it. The guy was handsome, too. Mediterranean, maybe? Persian? Black hair, dark eyes that were swift and intelligent, perfect tan skin, and the muscles. My god, the muscles. He smelled like testosterone, this close up. “I said hey.” Adam closed his gaping mouth. “Oh uh…. Hey there.” “You wanna get big, huh?” “Um… well…. Yeah.” “Thought so. I could smell it on you from across the room. You’re pretty scrawny but the size of your desire, whoo boy, I’ve rarely seen a desire so huge, not even in the pros.” What was this guy talking about? Adam was worried, this bodybuilder didn’t seem to be in his right mind. He knew a lot of these guys did other drugs, was he hopped up on something? He did have a vaguely coked-up air about him. Adam better be careful not to agitate him. “Oh uh, well, thank you. I’m trying my best.” “I see that. That was a nice set you just did. Good intention. I’ve got a feeling you’re going to get everything you want, and more.” “.... haha, well, I hope you’re right. I definitely want to get huge.” Adam gave his best fake laugh. “You better start your next set. You’re on 90 second rests and it’s been more than 100.” “How…?” “I said start your next set.” His voice was quiet, commanding. Adam gulped, turned his attention to the machine, gripped the handles firmly, and started rowing. Like before he fell into a kind of rhythm, but this time it was deeper. He kept pulling and pulling and pulling. His lats felt like they would burst. But he was merciless. His form remained smooth, controlled. His tempo, slow. He was crying, it hurt so bad. Literal tears mixing with the sweat running down his face. He kept rowing. It burned so bad, worse than anything he’d ever felt. When Adam finally stopped, he released the handles with a sob and let his arms fall to his sides. There was no way to hold them that didn’t make his throbbing lats feel worse. He groaned in helpless agony and looked around for the mysterious bodybuilder who had been talking to him. There was no one else in the gym. Even though he’d been in his own world during that set, that agonizing endless set…. Adam would have noticed the muscle man leaving, right? * A YEAR LATER “Adam, you should totally compete!” “Oh, I don’t know...” Adam shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to acknowledge that he had been considering that very thing himself lately. “I’m serious, man, you’d fit right in on an amateur stage, classic, maybe even cross over and do open as well.” Adam had poured himself into the gym after graduation. He found a job but his focus really wasn’t there - he was competent, but his managers always said he could be doing more, and as the months went by and his muscles continued to expand, they grew uncomfortable with his physical presence. He was handsome, muscular, confident, but there was something off about him, something they couldn’t put into words. The gym was his life. His passion. It was almost like the first nine months he’d spent lifting were a kind of false start - what he thought of as newbie gains were quickly dwarfed by his second year of progress. His friends were right - not only would he not look out of place on an amateur stage, he’d stand a good chance of winning the whole thing. So that’s what he did. The experience of contest prep was hyped up to be a gruelling gauntlet to him, but somehow he never found it that way. He got leaner, his skin thinned, his muscles popped, but he never felt hungry, he never felt exhausted. At first he was concerned because the scale wasn’t going down the way it should - but the mirror told a different tale. “I guess you’re growing into your show. Lucky fucker.” The classic weight limit for someone 5’8” was 182 lbs. The plan for him to do both classic and open was scrapped as his weight never dipped below 185, and indeed crept into the 190s by the time show day arrived. He registered as a light heavyweight. He wore turquoise posers. He blew everyone away. He won his class. He won the overall. He qualified for nationals. His friends were beyond hyped at the after-party. “You’ve gotta do it, man! Do nationals! You’re built for this!” He believed it. He’d never felt happier in his life. That night, back at the hotel, after everyone had left, he stepped into another shower to try and get more of the fake tan off. He knew he’d be shedding it for days to come even after doing his best to scrub it away. He enjoyed the way the water cascaded down his rock hard musculature. His glutes like twin boulders. His pecs like two shields of stone. The veins on his biceps and forearms like veins in marble. His cock throbbed, and he indulged himself; it only took a half dozen strokes before he blew a load all over the hotel shower wall, the hot water turning his cum all stringy. He turned off the shower, enjoying the warm humid air. Slowly he toweled off and stepped back into the room, naked, his skin raw and scrubbed fresh. He stopped in his tracks. Someone was in the room. It was the bodybuilder from the gym. That bodybuilder. “Adam,” he said, smiling. He was sitting in the armchair by the window, just as massive as the first time Adam saw him. Stringer tanktop covering less than a quarter of his tanned, bulging, super heavyweight torso. Dark nips angling downward from the sheer size of his pecs. His lips quirked into a smile. “You’re looking well.” “What the fuck are you doing in my room,” Adam said, the timid pipsqueak from a year ago nowhere to be seen. “Settle down. Relax. And you’re welcome, by the way.” “I’ll settle down when I’m good and ready. Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing here?” “You’ll figure out who I am in time. And I’m here to congratulate you. And deliver the remainder of your prize.” Adam’s eyes flickered to the gimmicky sword he’d been awarded for winning the overall. Amateur shows don’t have cash prizes. What could this guy mean? “What are you, a rep for a supplement company or something?” The bodybuilder’s lips quirked as he held in a genuine laugh. “That’s a new one. No, as I said, you’ll figure out my identity in time. Don’t you remember our first meeting?” “I… I do,” Adam said reluctantly. “Well, I simply asked if you wanted to get huge, and you said you did. Your need blazed like a bonfire on a dark night, you know. Obvious. It practically begged for me to intervene on your behalf. But I do need permission, you know. So I asked. You wanna get huge? And you said you do. So….” the man gestured elegantly, muscles shifting and flexing as he did. “Here we are.” “I don’t understand.” “You will.” And with that, Adam woke up. His head hurt. His mouth was dry. His slow sleeping pulse suddenly doubled as he remembered - the weird bodybuilder! In his room! Talking some kind of crazy talk! Adam leapt to his feet and almost fell to the ground. His body wasn’t like it had been the day before. He was… larger. A lot larger. The same height, 5’8”. The same bones. But his muscles had inflated. At least 25 lbs. He saw himself in the mirror above the TV, his handsome face freaked out, terrified, his chest and ab-quilted stomach heaving with heavy breaths. What the fuck. * SIX MONTHS LATER His work was definitely going to find some excuse to fire him in the weeks ahead, he could tell. When he walked - or, waddled - into a meeting room, their faces screwed up like he had a stink about him. He was outgrowing his work clothes and he didn’t want to invest in new ones if they were just going to fire him anyway. But he had to get money from somewhere. OnlyFans was a surprising help for his finances. He didn’t even have to have sex - just posing, flexing, or even doing normal things like shaving, or preparing food with no shirt on. Sometimes he got his dick out but a lot of the times he didn’t even do that. And people in the thousands paid to watch him, this young guy, just turning 24, handsome enough to be a movie star, with his jaw dropping muscles. The day he was finally let go, for reasons he could probably challenge successfully except he didn’t want to, he celebrated with an OnlyFans post. “Watch me flex out of my work clothes.” All his office attire, going back to when he had been a 150 lbs nobody. One by one he squeezed his muscular body into them and then flexed hard, forcing seams to split, tearing fabric apart. It was like ripping apart his old identity. The old Adam. Adam wasn’t much for social media but he couldn’t keep his physique under wraps any longer. Instagram was a must. He hated it, but the sponsorships he’d picked up since his big win required him to make posts, and the larger his following the more likely they’d be to renew contracts. He had no paycheque anymore so he did his best to lean into it. As Nationals drew near the buzz around him was unmistakable. Instagram is full of bodybuilders who seem like they’re going to blow the competition away on show day, only to finish in the middle of the pack - but everyone was convinced that, this time, for Adam, it would be different. He was the heavy favourite among the online crowd. He’d registered at 194 lbs at his first show. What no one knew was the very next day, after the visitation from the weird bodybuilder in his hotel room, he’d weighed in at 221 lbs. The growth kept coming during the three months of bulking he’d planned before beginning his cut for the Nationals. 250 lbs is a lot on someone who’s only 5’8”, but that’s where he landed before the cut. That’s when he got fired from his job. They just couldn’t handle someone that massive, such a meathead in a professional environment. No one who’s of sound mind would ever do something like that to their bodies. Obvious steroid abuse. Ticking time bomb of roid rage. No one felt comfortable in the office with him. Fuck them anyway. He was making good money from sponsorships and OnlyFans, and he’d be getting his pro card soon. His cut for his second-ever contest began, and just like the first one, the scale was stubborn. It dipped down as low as 243, but it stayed there for a while, and then began creeping up. He was vicious about his diet and cardio. He didn’t cheat at all. But he was growing into his show again. With two weeks to go, he was back at 250 lbs, but so much leaner and sharper than he’d been just a couple months previous. The internet was losing their mind. This wasn’t just a kid who deserved a pro card. Adam was rapidly growing an Olympia-contender physique, right before everyone’s eyes, and doing it at an accelerated pace that beggared belief. He flew out for the show a week early, set up shop in an Airbnb, did his final workouts and a photoshoot at a local gym, went home and ate his prepared meals, updated his instagram and his OnlyFans, played video games, and then slept. Day after day. He waddled into registration exactly 59 lbs heavier than he’d been for his first show. 253 lbs. The guy recording the weights couldn’t restrain himself. “Damn, son.” He looked Adam up and down. “That is a HELL of a lot of mass to be carrying on a 5’8” frame.” “Thanks man,” Adam said nonchalantly, trying not to become overly emotional. He kept a tight rein on things until after the show was over. He knew he was a favourite to win. He knew that pro card was his. But he had to pretend he didn’t know, until it had actually happened. Super Heavyweight. Called to the centre of the lineup within seconds of getting on stage. Stayed there the whole time. Nailed every pose. Adam’s physique was shocking. The official photographer’s camera was going off like a machine gun. He knew this was something special, that pictures of Adam from this show would be well known twenty-five years from now. These pictures he was taking, as this freak of musculature moved gracefully from pose to pose to pose, would be joining the echelons of legendary physique pictorial. Cutler’s quad stomp. Arnold on the beach. And Adam winning his pro card, absolutely mopping the floor with the competition. The after party was glorious. Everyone wanted to suck his dick, metaphorically and, eventually, literally. He should have been exhausted but he felt elated. He felt high, like he was on a drug. He kept pumping his cock into warm willing holes in the hotel room, a frenzy of muscle and lust and dominance. He was the fucking champ. He was the newest IFBB pro. He was only 25 years old. He was hot shit, and he had his whole future ahead of him. He didn’t remember falling asleep. When he woke up it was still dark outside. The room was gloomy, dim. He felt hungover. His balls ached. How many times had he cum last night? Five? Six? More? He groaned and rolled over, intending to lumber into the bathroom for some water - he could drink all he liked now, after all. He froze mid-roll. There was someone else in bed with him. A big lumpy shape, half-seen in the darkness. Denting the mattress. Not a surprise - hadn’t he hosted a victory orgy? But the room was dark, no one else was here, and although there’d been plenty of muscular men attached to his dick last night, this one was bigger than any of them. About the same size as me, Adam thought. The other man blinked awake and smiled prettily. His massive pecs mounded up under his chin as he propped himself up on one arm and leaned toward Adam. “Good morning, beautiful,” he said, showing perfect white teeth that almost glowed in the gloom. “Wh-... what the fuck,” Adam stammered. “Don’t be so shocked. You really ought to learn to expect me by now.” He reached a hand out and stroked Adam’s muscular arm, then his face. Adam didn’t draw away, for some reason. He felt hypnotized by the mysterious bodybuilder. He was paralyzed yet untroubled by this fact. “You’ve done so well. Look at the size of you. You’re really huge now, aren’t you?” “Yeah I’m… I’m pretty huge...” Adam felt himself speak, but it was like someone else was speaking. “I’m contractually obligated to give you an off-ramp here, but fair warning. It’s your last chance to back out.” “Huh?” The bodybuilder smirked. “It’s like their brains shrivel up, I swear.” He resumed stroking Adam’s handsome face, toying with his short curly hair. “I’ll make it simple for you, big guy. You can stabilize around this size. You’ll spend your off-season in the 270s, you’ll compete in the 250’s, you’ll probably have quite the career. I can’t promise what kind of success, because I won’t be involved any longer. In fact, tonight will be the last time you see me. Pity, that. If you take this option, I mean.” Adam whimpered. His cock was throbbing, achingly hard, like a steel beam in the sun, like he hadn’t cum for a month. “The other option is, you stay on this ride and we see just how huge ‘huge’ really is.” Adam felt his mouth open and close. “Guh….” The bodybuilder stroked his face again. “Such a pretty man, really, even without the muscles. So what do you say, kid. Do you want to get even huger?” “Fuck, yes, please, anything, I want to be a monster, I want to be the biggest bodybuilder ever, I never want to stop growing, I wanna grow til I split my skin” Adam felt the words come tumbling out, like a dam inside him had burst. The bodybuilder chuckled, his pecs flexing and dancing. “That’s what I hoped I’d hear. You know that bonfire of desire I said you had inside you? It’s burning brighter than ever, it’s never dimmed. It rages, I can sense it across the eons. I’ll see you next time, handsome.” Then he leaned in and kissed Adam. It was the most powerful kiss Adam had ever experienced. He felt his soul melting. Untouched, his cock began to twitch and dance and spurt cum like a broken sprinkler. Adam moaned loudly, reached out to pull the sexy bodybuilder in closer, and his hands passed through thin air. The man was gone. Adam slumped back onto the mattress, stared at the ceiling for a second. Then, realizing just how disgusting and stinky his mouth must have been during that kiss, that best-ever kiss with that god of a man, rolled over and went to the bathroom for a glass of water and to clean himself up. * Adam shouldn’t have been shocked when he woke up in his hotel room the morning after his show. It had happened once already. And yet… he somehow hadn’t expected it. He was bigger. A lot bigger. Like 40 lbs bigger. 253 lbs is a lot on a 5’8” frame, like the man at check-in said. 290-something, in contest shape? Practically unheard of. That’s beyond Roelly Winklaar size. That’s beyond Big Ramy size. That’s already in a category of its own. He threw himself into the off-season with a vengeance. The mass came, like his body knew no limit. Every set, his freakish muscles filled with so much lactic acid, his eyes would tear up, he would be gasping and moaning, unable to ease the pain. And then his timer would beep and he’d launch into another set, ignoring the throbbing pain, pumping himself ever huger. He grew. And grew. And grew. A member of the 300 lbs club now, rapidly filling out. His shoulders mound up alongside his head, bigger than his skull. His pecs hit his chin when he looks down at them. His walk now an extreme waddle. Every eye staring at him when he goes out in public. Blocking a sidewalk, blocking an aisle at the grocery store. People watch him, mouths agape. Children ask questions. Mommy, what’s wrong with that man? His first pro show, an Olympia qualifier. The discourse went from “how well will he do” to “is he a contender to win it” to “how well is he going to do at the Olympia after he wins this?” He tried to ignore the headlines in the bodybuilding press. ADAM NOVAK PREPARES FOR HIS FIRST PRO SHOW, PROMPTING THE QUESTION: HOW BIG IS TOO BIG A NEW ERA OF MASS MONSTERS OR A ONE-OFF FREAK? ADAM NOVAK He started his prep at 312 lbs. Just like before, the scale was stubborn. It dipped down slowly, stalled, and then began climbing again as the show neared. Adam’s training sessions were almost like trances, now. He’d emerge from the altered space occasionally, and see the pumped, fit to burst muscle freak, face anguished from the lactic acid burn, tortured body slick with sweat and tears, XXXXXL tank top about to explode, veins the size of pencils, lungs heaving for oxygen. He was so massive he could barely get enough air in to fuel himself. He was always winded. His feet hurt from carrying this much weight. His gut hurt from eating so much food, every single day. Even his contest prep diet was enough for a family. He got leaner, and leaner, and leaner. Scarily lean. It was the most shredded he’d ever been. He weighed in at 317 lbs the day before the show. “Jesus,” the guy taking the measurements muttered. “Holy fuck.” Adam’s body seemed impossible, there was no way a human being could carry this much meat. The few people who knew him before, when he was just a normal dude, who were still in touch with him all sent him texts and DMs, worried about his health. It’s too much, Adam. Your body can’t take this for long. Forums and reddit threads were full of predictions of his doom. He must be on grams a week. Getting this huge this fast - kids today are too impatient. He’s going to pay the price for it. The show was a coronation. He was the heaviest guy there. He was the leanest guy there. His proportions were perfect, if of a magnitude unheard of. When he hit a most muscular, the audience actually gasped. The Olympia qualification was his. The celebration was subdued, though. Not an orgy like last time. He didn’t even want to go to a restaurant. He was tired of how people in public gawped at him. He just wanted to chill in the hotel room, smoke a joint, order some pizza, watch some stupid videos on youtube. So, that’s what he and his crew did. The champ gets what he wants. As he said goodbye to the last of his crew, he knew what to expect. He had been expecting this all along. The memory of the kiss in the hotel bed last time stayed with him. It was seared into his soul, a tender spot he couldn’t stop poking at. It was the best kiss he’d ever had. It had been far more than a kiss. “You can come out now, if you’re here,” Adam said to the empty room. “You’re learning,” the bodybuilder said as he stepped out of the dark bathroom. “I’m not that stupid. This kind of thing doesn’t happen in real life, that’s all. You can’t expect people to catch on that fast.” “Can’t I? You lot used to be so much more reasonable before your faith in science overtook the evidence of your senses,” the bodybuilder smirked. “Although I will admit, your science has wrought many wondrous things.” He flexed, then, admiring himself. He’s smaller than me, Adam realized. A lot smaller. “Everyone is smaller than you now, Adam,” the bodybuilder said, answering Adam’s thoughts. “A very small number of them are close, but you’re top of the heap. You’re it. The biggest bodybuilder in the world, in human history. How’s it feel?” “It’s exhausting.” The bodybuilder was silent, and Adam felt compelled to continue. “I can’t even tie my own shoes. I have to turn sideways to get through some doors. Everyone stares at me. I’m always out of breath and my feet hurt. Nothing fits. When I’m not lifting I’m eating, and when I’m not eating I’m sleeping. I have to wear a machine when I sleep so I don’t suffocate on my own meat.” The bodybuilder stared at him, still silent. Was that the tiniest shimmer of pity in his dark, expressive eyes? Finally the bodybuilder spoke. “I told you last time, it was your last chance to back out. There is no escape, now.” Adam was quiet. “I know.” The bodybuilder narrowed his eyes. “That bonfire of need in you….” “Yes?” “It’s still there, Adam. It hasn’t dimmed, at all.” Adam hung his head, his chin in the cleft between his pecs, his arms unable to rest at his sides because his lats were in the way. His legs forced apart by the sheer volume of his quads. “.... yeah.” “You want to get even bigger, don’t you, Adam?” Adam felt his breath shaking and catching. He was trembling. His body couldn’t take this. It was too much. It was way too much. He wouldn’t last another year if he kept growing. This has to end. It has to end now. It… “.... yeah.” Adam heard the sound of a wretched sob from somewhere in the room, the sound of a broken soul. The bodybuilder stepped closer. He reached an elegant finger under Adam’s chin, having to work it into the canyon between his pecs to do so. He lifted Adam’s face. “Son of the earth, the need in you is…. exquisite. It is beautiful. You have the purest need of any mortal I’ve seen, and I have been here for…. For far longer than you can know, my treasure.” Adam felt a tear trickling down his face as the fallen angel’s true form flickered through his disguise. The beauty he glimpsed was painful to behold. “I should not do this. I am here to punish the sin of greed. I don’t know what they’ll do to me. This might be my unmaking. But you, Adam… your greed is no sin. It is purified, somehow. The purest essence of want. Son of the earth, I’ll give you what you want, but it won’t hurt you any more. It won’t sap your life any more. Your skin won’t rip and tear. Your organs won’t fail. Your heart won’t break. You’ll keep growing, son of the earth, and I’ll protect you, damn the cost.” A second tear trickled down Adam’s face as his eyes were locked with the demon’s. The world was shrinking, it was only their two bodies, not even the room around them. The point of contact where they touched was all of reality. Adam’s monstrously overgrown form, obscene and impractical mass, and the demon’s human guise, the pure essence of virile muscular masculinity. The demon leaned in and kissed Adam again. It was like in the hotel bed. The ancient sign of a sealed covenant. The terms of their arrangement had been altered; a new contract was signed. Then, smiling, the demon took Adam by the hand and led him to the hotel room bed. His hands slowly running over the human’s unheard of musculature. The angry red stretch marks where his skin had begun to fail. The crevices where two muscles had run out of room and were now vying for territory. Adam’s ass, the biggest most muscular pair of glutes on planet earth, slowly being prised apart by the demon’s thick foot-long cock, radiating heat, slick, lubricating as it went. He was as good as his word - Adam would not come to harm as long as he was under the demon’s power. Adam felt drugged. He felt cosmic. His whole body was a sexual organ and the demon was touching every inch of it. Their hot breath in unison, mortal and immortal. The demon was inside him, deep inside him, pulsing, filling him with radiant seed, more and more of it. They couldn’t keep their mouths off each other, tongues darting, lips grasping. They wanted to devour each other and keep each other whole. When Adam woke up the next morning, he was alone. He felt elevated; he felt empty. He was 340 lbs. * NINE MONTHS LATER The entire Olympia weekend was a media spectacle. Adam was the biggest name in bodybuilding, not just literally but metaphorically. He’d just been a normal young man three years ago, when a demon had visited his gym at midnight and offered him a deal. Not that Adam understood that it was a deal, back then. But now, after having gained more than 200 pounds of raw beef with no end in sight, he knew it very well. Everyone wanted to know Adam Novak’s training secrets. Everyone wanted to know who his coach was. Everyone wanted to know what next gen roids he had to be taking. They tried to make the press conference about more than him. Soft-ball questions lobbed at the other competitors. They tried to make it seem like a true contest, like anyone else had a shot. Even though Adam clearly dwarfed everyone at the table, hunched over his microphone like a literal mountain of meat, the largest official Olympia track suit looking comically tight, painted on. Several months ago he was already the biggest bodybuilder in history. And he had grown since then, grown a lot. He registered at 358 lbs, still at 5’8”. The video clips of it happening had gone viral. He needed help to get dressed and undressed. He got so pumped backstage that he needed someone to feed him the endless amounts of carbs that his huge body required in the hours before the show - he could no longer touch his own face, or even reach his mouth with a fork. He posed to Sympathy for the Devil that night, the crowd losing its mind. They knew they were witnessing history. Adam felt kind of cheesy. The song choice seemed too on the nose. Adam hoped he was watching. Adam hoped he liked the tip of the hat. Adam wanted to see him grin at the little joke. Adam longed to see him again. What had he said? He might get in trouble? “This could be my undoing?” Something like that. He was supposed to punish Adam, but he had decided not to. He had decided to give Adam everything he wanted and to protect him from the negative downsides. Would he be waiting for Adam at the hotel tonight? Would they make love again, like they had last time? Adam couldn’t stop thinking about it. He realized, in the van back to the hotel, his gargantuan freakshow body taking up the entire back row, that he was in love. He was in love with a demon, his very soul was magnetized to him, and he didn’t know if he’d ever see him again. His heart was pounding as he waddled down the hotel corridor, so overgrown he almost brushed the walls with his beachball delts. It wasn’t the heart attack that internet trolls kept saying would claim him any day, as he grew and grew and grew beyond all reason. His heart was pounding because he didn’t know what was waiting for him. If he didn’t show up…. Adam opened the door. The room was dark. He hit the lightswitch and heard his own tight voice, aching with hope. Aching with need. A simple word, wanting an answer. “Hello?”
  10. An hour went by. Adam showed his massive body to his little friend, from top to bottom, in an intense posing session. The little British guy couldn’t believe to what just had happened. His biggest dream came true. It was a long and joyful dream coming into life. He did not want that day to ever end, but he knew they were both coming to the end of the show. Adam was standing, he kneeled against his bag to zip it. “You know little fella. I showed my pec power because I have got a big surprise for you. You paid me so much over the years that I want to give you the best day ever!” Adam said. “Which is?” Kevin said. “Remove your trousers and underwear. Go commando!” Adam said. Kevin’s face was shocked but at the same time a tiny smile of hope appeared in his face. He did not hesitate to go commando, and immediately removed the unnecessary pieces of cloths. Adam walked towards his friend, grabbed him by his hand and brought him to the table. The two big hands grabbed his by the hips, lifting him with ease and setting him on the table. “Lay down, relax!” Adam said. Kevin’s cock was already as hard as rock. Adam grabbed it with his big hand and locked it between his pecs. The party started. Like in the bottle game, Adam’s pecs were moving up and down, creating horizontal peaks, massaging vigorously Kevin’s hard cock. Adam was moaning in pleasure and ecstasy already. Adam did not need to move his friend’s cock up and down like during a jack-off as his lateral movements with his pecs were doing the trick. Once in a while Adam increased the pressure on the penis, making Kevin scream into pleasure. During that act his pecs showed more striation than the previous stage. Kevin’s penis was literally swallowed by the massive Ukrainian’s chest. “This is my body! I will make you beg for mercy! You will demand to stop me because it is too much!” Adam said. “Never!” Kevin said moaning. Adam applied more pressure. Kevin’s head moved to the right and screamed. He did not come yet. He was about to. “Who’s dominating?” Adam said. “I am!” Kevin moaned. Admin increased the pressure, speeding up the pecs’ movement. Kevin moaned louder. “Who’s dominating?” Adam said again. “I…I…I…am” Kevin disarticulated and moaned that answer. Again , Adam went faster. Kevin moaned again. “Who is dominating?” Adam said once more. “You are! You are! You are!” Kevin screamed. Adam stopped. Grabbed Kevin’s penis again with his big hand, and placed the penis in the elbow pit. He locked it. Soft. Then hard. He flexed his bicep, and like an a gear pump, he moved his arm up and down, simulating a jack-off. Kevin moaned, screamed, and yelled. All was pure pleasure. Kevin’s mind was shutting down. His thoughts were with no meaning. Like under ecstasy, he imagined he was flying away. It was a mixture of sensation. Excitement, joy, pleasure, fulfilment, gratification, ecstasy, pleasurable pain. His head moved in every direction. Moans, screams, growls were the noises produced by his voice. His face was a melting pot of fulfilled high libido. Joy and pain. He couldn’t know how long he might have been resisting to him. “I can squeeze you harder, if you wish!” Adam said. “Y…e…s, ple-ple-please” Kevin said. Adam squeezed harder. Kevin yelled. Adam lied on Kevin’s body and yet the cock was locked in his pecs. He rubbed his huge hands over his victim’s check, to pass through the abdomen, gently sliding the cock over his pec. He released the joyful hold. Adam grabbed Kevin’s cock, placed it in between his elbow pit and locked it again. “My biceps are capable of making you scream of joy!” Adam said. “Or make you yell in pain!” Adam said while squeezing harder and harder the penis. Kevin yelled, in pain, his face drew a painful picture. Adam release the hold. “My body is for pleasure or pain, as you have noticed. I want to bring you along with myself next time I am going to crush someone with his deadly machine. My body!” Adam said. Kevin lifted himself using his hand, he was ecstatic, happy, joyful. “Oh yes, please, pleas, please!” Kevin excited said. “What about flying to the southern states of the USA?” Adam said. “I am in Adam!” Kevin said. “I am not going to tell you whom I am going to fight, it will be a total surprise. I’ll crush the life out of that bodybuilder!” Adam said. “Can I have a hint?” Kevin said. “Hairy!” Adam said. Kevin began scanning the entire knowledge of bodybuilders that his mind had. The word “hairy” was deceptive, anyone can be hairy during the off-season. No one goes through an entire body wax if not under a completion. Who could that bodybuilder be, he wondered to himself inside his mind. Adam noticed Kevin’s focused face. He threw that stone, that news, but nothing more, and nothing more will be disclosed until they will all meet. “You face is simply amazing!” Adam said. “You cannot contain your excitement, and you are scanning the entire bodybuilder-file list in your brain. I am glad I caught your attention even more!” Adam said. Kevin smiled, yet with excitement. “So tell, me what would you really like to see during the match?” Adam said. Silence. No words spoken. Yet, Kevin was still thinking about whom Adam was going to destroy with his bare hands. “Make him cry! I want whomever that person is to beg for mercy, screaming, yelling. Asking you to spare his life!” Kevin said getting himself together. He was having an hard-on. Adam had the same reaction. “Boom!” Adam screamed showing his front double bicep. “I will make him cry like no one else before!” Adam said. “The session is already scheduled and booked. I want to read to you the e-mail he had send to schedule this deadly session!” Adam said. He went back to his back and from the external pocket he grabbed his table, unlocked it, and logged in to his e-mail. “And here it is! I will read it for you” Adam said. Thanks Adam for being in touch with me. As discussed in our e-mail exchange, I am into muscle domination. And by this, I mean to crush my victims. Easter Europeans are famous for their level of musculature, power, and strength. However, you are talking with a person whom has already been wrestling, or better put in this way, dominated other European bodybuilders, and especially those whom come from the old Soviet Union. I won’t be delicate with you, I will use the whole arsenal that I have built is these years. I am not only a bodybuilder, a model, and a strongman. I really do enjoy crushing puny little men like you. You will be huge, ripped, and strong but, I will beat you very easy. You requested my stats, didn’t you? Here they are: 243 lbs and 5’7’’. Not big enough, smaller than you. How they say, THE BIGGER THEY ARE, THE HARDER THEY FALL. Looking forward to squeeze the shit out of you. CB. “Cocky! Arrogant! Bastard!” Kevin said. “I’ll kill him!” Adam said. Kevin dressed himself up. He couldn’t wait to fly over to the United States. He checked his pocket, took the wallet, and hand the American Express card to Adam. “This is on me!” Kevin said. “What?” Adam said. “Purchase the tickets, the hotel. Actually, book an entire house, at my expenses. I want privacy for this unforgettable session. It’s all on me!” Kevin said. “We’re splitting!” Adam said. “No way!” Kevin said, standing up. “As you wish master!” Adam said with a sarcastic tone one voice. The both left the room and went to the laptop that was open and on the table. Adam surfed and booked the tickets and a beautiful house in the city centre. Kevin did not watch the screen, he lost himself massing the shoulders of the bodybuilder’s. It was another piece of heaven. He realised how hard and huge those muscles were. Attempting to massage those shoulder was like rubbing his hands over pure concrete or marble. There wasn’t even a remote chance that his little hands could untie any knotted muscle in that divine and god-like body. That session made Kevin realise the reason why they’re called “Muscle-Gods.” They are everything what described in the ancient books of Greek and Roman mythology. Beautiful, muscular, and powerful. They could invade and dominate an entire country with no minimum effort. They can take human life with easy movements, and in addition to that, they are pure sex-muscle. The massaging made his penis go hard once again. Adam realised it, and moving his hand backward, he grabbed Kevin’s cock, and moved the guy next to him. “I can make you do whatever I want!” Adam said. “Please do!” Kevin said. “Once this is over, and I mean this match, I will be at your total disposal, and you will be making anything you want to my body. You can suck me all up! I authorise you with this!” Adam said.
  11. When a Titan enters the door, it is undeniable that each one of us will admire how big that person might be, in particular when the Titan has stats that go off-chart. 6’2’’ and 310 lbs can classify a person as a “Human Tank.” Adam, The Titan, was a Ukrainian bodybuilder, built like a brick shithouse. The sums of those addends made him close to perfection. Long and muscular arms and legs were attached to a body with huge and massive pectorals, that a tight t-shirt was not that able to contain. It was about to explode. Adding to that, an handsome face with a light beard and two pointy ears that perfectly matched his overall profile. Adam’s been competing regionally and internationally for quite sometime, and his winning competitions were well-known in his homeland. Being one of the tallest and heaviest bodybuilders in Ukraine, he was one of those bodybuilders that couldn’t have been missed during the shows, and other bodybuilders were always shocked by his masses, and the agility he used to show during his posing routines. A perfect bodybuilder? Indeed he was. That day, when he entered the door, in London, he was not going to compete. He was not going to show his perfection to the judges, he was about to show his whole-powerful body to a guy that paid him so much money during the years, that kept his bodybuilding dream alive. When Kevin opened the door, letting the big fella in, he almost lost his control. He realised that his bulge was raising. Adam was a pure muscle God. Adam entered with a big smile. Almost an evil smile. The light brown t-shirt showed his ripped uncovered biceps and the veins ran all over. Both of his arms were ripped, although it was not in a competition. His pectorals were massive and well-pronounced under that t-shirt that showed the logo Domination. Anyone wished to be dominated by him. He could dominate anyone without much effort. It was almost impossible to resist him. He was too perfect to run away. Kevin scanned his entire body in few seconds, he noticed everything Adam could offer. He noticed his bull neck, his hands were so big that he could have easily crushed a watermelon between them. “Hi Kevin!” Adam said, with his light Ukrainian accent, and with a strong and deep voice that matched his physique. The voice almost made the apartment tremble. Kevin hesitated on answering, his eyes moved like pinballs. Up and down. Right and left. His brain froze, his mouth let a kind of a squirt out, but in a couple of seconds he was able to get himself together and answer. “Hey Adam! You’re fucking huge!” He said. Adam laughed, still his laugh was heavy, trembling, and devilish. They shook their hands. At his own expenses, Kevin discovered how firm and strong Adam’s grip was, if he grabs me by the balls, they will be gone forever! Kevin thought. Kevin was half of Adam’s size and proportions. Adam was looking at his cash, towering him like a giant. He was intimidating. During the past years, Kevin commissioned several videos, paid quite well, but although Kevin knew how big Adam was, a video will never show the massiveness until he met him in real life. Like a first date, you can fantasise about a person through the pictures and a description, but the real life completely change your perception, and you see how that person really looks like. Perfection! Kevin though. Kevin’s dream was coming into reality, he could finally admire that muscle monster. His enthusiasm was irrepressible. They both walked to the massive almost-empty room that Kevin dedicated for that moment. Only a sofa in in the middle of the room, and a table right behind it. The walls were painted in a light green that brought peace and harmony. There were no need for words, they both knew what was about to happen. Adam walked to the edge of the room, he began undressing. Kevin comfortably set on the sofa. Excited. “Wow!” Kevin said. Adam only wore a pair of red posing trunks. Yet, Kevin couldn’t believe his eyes. That body is fucking huge, he thought. “What do you want to see my muscle friend?” Adam said. “Pose for me. Pose like you’re on stage for a competition.” Kevin said. “At your command!” Adam said. And he began. Slowly, he lifted his arms and aligned them to his shoulders, creating a crucifix-like shape. His shoulders and biceps were boulders. The striations were visible as those muscles looked like they were carved into wood by a professional wood carver. Adam stared at his fan with proud. “Here they come.” Adam whispered. Yet slowly, his elbow pits bent, his bicep fibres contracted, and the bicep inflated, and just right before the end of the muscle explosion, Adam loaded and locked, letting a soft grunt out of his mount. He smirked. He look at his right bicep and then the left. He brought the arms back to the crucifix position and hit a second, third, and fourth double bicep pose. Hammering it. “Boom!” Adam screamed at the sequential poses. Kevin was silent, he did not speak a word. He was admiring, and he knew that commenting was only a waste of time. Adam relaxed for few seconds, his right leg pointed at floor with his toe and shook his relaxed quad waving it from side to side, he lifted both of his arms up in the air, to then cross them behind his head and neck, he stomped his foot onto the floor, and contracted the whole quad, showing the different muscular groups in it, and hit an abdominals and thighs. “Arrrrghhh” Adam growled, like a beast. Smiles appeared in both of the guys. Kevin never imagined that Adam was such as an amazing poser when it comes to privately perform. He saw him very often on the stage, he used to pose like he was dominating the whole contestants, with a smile always drawn on his face. Kevin he had never heard him grunting or growling, and that was something new that he was loving along with his private, that minutes after minutes was increasing in volume, the blood was streaming like never before. What is he going to do when he’s going to hit a most muscular pose? Kevin wondered in excitement. He couldn’t wait for that moment to come. “You are the European Quadrosaurus!” Kevin said, still admiring Adam’s huge quads. “I am the Quadraosaurus. Fuck Branch Warren!” Adam said, smiling to this friend. Adam slightly bent over to his relaxed quads, placing both of his palms over the meat, and after lifting himself back up, the quads were as hard as rock. Contracted. Huge. He slapped them. Adam’s quads passed from a stage of full relaxation, to an insane contraction, slightly twisting them outward. If that was a film, and a sound added like a soundtrack, it could have probably been a bomb detonation, that was what the quads did. Exploded into perfection. “You know Kevin, People love to be crushed between the quads. Mine are pure destructions!” Adam said. “Fuck!” Kevin said with excitement. “I crushed several people, mostly bodybuilders. They yelled!” Adam said laughing. “Did they cry?” Kevin said. “The cried! They begged for mercy, that I did not grant!” Adam said. “Let me tell you one thing. Crushing bodybuilders is fun. Crushing strongmen is pure joy. They think they are the strongest men in the world, until they met me!” Adam said. “I wish, I could have seen the scene!” Kevin said. “They compete, lifting and throwing off stuff. They are strong, don’t get me wrong. I am way stronger than them. They think that we bodybuilders are only about appearance. We’re not, I’m not!” Adam said. Kevin nodded. Adam turned his back to Kevin, he placed his right leg on the floor with the tips of his toes, moving the feet on the floor like he was stomping cigarette butts. He gently slid both his huge hands over the back of his quads, moving to his perfect butt, and lifting his arms, with the palm of his hands opened, on the air, like he was about to fly. The back double bicep moment was about to take place, but Adam bent his right arm and brought his hand over his right ear, he did not hear any spur from his fan. He turned back, and with and funny-shocked face, he moved his hands in look for support. “C’mon man!” Adam’s voice trembled. “Double bicep! Double bicep! Double Bicep!” Kevin cadencing sang. Adam turned back facing the wall, and repeated the movements, from the back of the quads to the butt, and the hands back up in the air. “Boom!” Adam yelled hitting a back double biceps, hard locking the position for a while. Gracefully, he turned back to face Kevin, his pecs were bouncing up and down, joy for Kevin’s eye. He crunched them, squeezed them, pumped them. Keven never saw two pecs as big as Adam’s, they were pure perfection, and insanely shredded, able to beat the famous Andreas Münzer. The pec dance went on for few minutes. Adam was amazed what his body was able to produce, and Kevin was in pure ecstasy. Adam stopped. He went to the big bag that he left on the floor, bent his knees to reach it, unzipped and extracted few items from it. An empty can of coke, a cylindric metal bar, and an empty small plastic container that probably was once filled with supplements. “You love my huge pecs. I will show you that they are not only for the show business, but that they are strong!” Adam said standing back up. “Look at this!” Adam said, showing the empty-supplement-plastic container to Kevin, walking towards the guy, and holding it with the tip of his thumb and the pointer. Adam placed the container between his pecs, he was not flexing so hard, and the item locked perfectly between them. Like waves, the muscular part of his pecs were moving up and down, with rhythm, creating horizontal peaks that deformed the bottle at each movement. The bottle crackled like when stomped with a foot and the lid was blown away, landing on the floor. Adam applied a final long pressure over the item that cracked like under a press machine for cars. He deflexed his pecs and the deformed bottled fell off onto the floor. Kevin was amazed. His legs crossed one against the other, he moved them to cross on the other way, to give his exploding penis, pressing against the denims, a bit of a rest. Adam went to back to his bag. The can was laying on the floor, he grabbed it with his full hand, he put it between his pecs and with a decisive squeezing movement, he crushed it with ease. A popping noise was heard. For Kevin, it was pain inside his jeans, sweet and enjoyable pain. Adam returned back to his bag, he lifted the metal bar, and he brought it back to Kevin, handing the item over to him. He grabbed the bar, and he realised it was made out of steel, heavy, hard and not empty in the inside. “Don’t tell me you’re going to crush it in your pecs! It is impossible!” Kevin said. “Do you doubt about my capabilities, little fella?” Adam said, smiling. Kevin’s face was shocked, he opened his mouth, nothing came out, and Adam grabbed the steel bar back and placed it between his pecs. Another moment of joy for Kevin. Adam’s pecs moved again like waves, creating those famous peaks, this time he squeezed more than the first time. That steel bar was fighting back, but it bent at the end. It did not break, it simple bent of few visible degrees. Adam smirked with proud while Kevin left a big “wow” followed by a big smile. Kevin was enjoying every single moment of that private show, and hoped that it could never end. Watching a video and jack-off over it is one thing, being able to watch a bodybuilder posing for your is something that one person will never forget. Adam turned his back to Kevin and while walking toward the wall, he began speaking. “I guess, that you’ve been waiting for the most muscular, since you have opened that door half an hour ago!” Adam said. “You can bet it!” Kevin said with excitement. Adam stopped. He turned to face his fan once more, opened his arms and flexed the most muscular bending his body over. Two massive balls appeared as biceps, the pecs contracted, showing the striation once more. “Boom!” Adam screamed. Kevin almost wetted himself.
  12. Hola vivo al sur de Madrid y me gustaría encontrar a alguien que me pueda guiar haciendo mis primeros ciclos. Me gustaría dar el paso y transformar mi cuerpo, pero me da miedo porque no sabría hacerlo de manera segura.
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