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  1. QuoteTheRaven

    Simb Bakkani Super Heavyweight (Completed)

    Mossano inherited Muscle Pride Rock Gym in Bangkok. He became an IFBB Pro, then Mr. Thailand, and then opened Muscle Pride Rock Gym 2. At 21, Simb was born. Muscle Pride Rock Gym sang with celebration. Patrons — thin and lithe to well-muscled hunks in string tanks and hoodies — gathered around he and his wife Sarai. Mossano’s pharmacological coach held Simb aloft. The gym speakers played joyous music filled with rhythms and flutes. As a kid, Simb spent his time running around Muscle Pride Rock with his best friend Naylon. Everyone knew them. All treated them with joy. Simb had no thoughts about his place in the world. CHAPTER ONE — BETRAYAL Now, on a day in Simb’s eighteenth year, Simb and Naylon lounge near the juice bar. As they lounge, Simb’s Uncle Scarab shows up. Scarab is seven years older than Simb, and devotedly bodybuilds. He is outwardly obsequious toward Simb while also giving off a resentful vibe. Simb thinks that’s the way for uncles on diets, restrictions, and heavy lifting schedules. Scarab talks to the teens. He asks them what kind of music they like. When they mention a local group, he tells them it’s a huge coincidence that that group is playing at a place called Parrot Bar. He says he has passes to that bar and that they can see their favorite band if they leave to go now. The guys can’t believe the coincidence and want to go and so they do. The whole thing is a lie. When they get there, instead of saying Parrot Bar it says Parrot Gay Bar. This gives pause, only because they are not into sexual things yet. But they want to see the band. Inside, there is no band. Instead two twenty year old hoodlums pay attention to them. The hoodlums are so skinny ribs show through their tees. They are as heavy-headed as hyenas with open-hanging mouths. “We are Shen and Ban,” the jackally two snigger, “You are the son of the best muscle man in Thailand aren’t you? We recognize you. Are you here because?…. because you like sex with males, no?” Simb and Naylon feel uneasy, more uneasy even than from the dancers grinding crotch-packed near-naked muscles. Simb and Naylon try to pretend they are cool as it is important to accept all people. That is what Mossano and Simb’s mother Sarai always teach. The manager at the Parrot Gay Bar notices the youth and suspects something is amiss. He calls the MRP Gym and the manager, Zazar, answers. Zazar, who is homosexual himself and expressive in his personality, flaps off to tell Mossano right away. Mossano goes to the bar and rescues the boys. Mossano is upset with Simb for going to a drinking place and one that focuses on any kind of sex. He scolds Simb and Simb feels bad about his judgment. But Mossano forgives Simb. Mossano also explains to Simb that some of Mossano’s best friends are gay. He adds, “with the genetics you have from me and mom, I want you to end up my size and condition. If you do as I do, eating, the heavy iron lifting, the gear.” Mossano continues, “What I want to say is when you grow up and become as I am, you will play a special role — pedestaled by men and women, wanted by all.” Simb says ok. He doesn’t know what that all means or whether he wants that. He’s still a kid. Drives can be dormant until nature fully spigots testosterone and awakens a man to his real wants. However, meanwhile, during Mossano and Simb’s conversation, Scarab has found the 20-year-old shady fag beanpoles. You might think he is there to berate them and force them to understand more about what is appropriate with people of different ages. But Scarab has a nefarious character and only self-serving purposes in mind. He has designs — designs of no longer being lesser in his brother’s shadow, to usurping his brother’s titles, to gaining his brother’s businesses and all that his brother has. As part of his plan to do that, he makes an overture to the youth Shen and Ban. He will freely service them at MRP Gym. But they must help frame Mossano for a crime. The two are alarmed at the idea of doing something of the kind. But then they feel Scarab’s enlarged biceps that rise as balls, hard as rock. Scarab talks dominant fetished stuff about how swollen his pecs are, how his ass jacks and how intensely good he feels. He tells them he must grow bigger, dominating little fucks, that he’ll make his brother seem fucking small. He wants to transform the two weasels too. He thinks they could all fuck each other as big muscle men. The two hypnotized fags both are almost orgasming as he makes their dicks so hard with his dreams. They agree to help Scarab. In the setup to the framing scam, Scarab goes to Simb the next week. Scarab dishonestly tells Simb that Mossano wants Simb to take a package of steroids (legal in Thailand) to the other branch of the gym. Simb is only 18 and never been given a task like this before so he is uncertain at first. But Scarab is convincing. Simb heads out in the streets with the messenger bag unaware. What it really contains is cocaine, heroine and drugs heavily punishable even for someone his age to possess. As soon as Simb has left, Scarab gathers up Shen and Ban and they go to Mossano. Scarab acts as though he’s collared the gay twenty year olds, physically showing his superiority to the pimpled scarecrows, manhandling them with true get-off brawn, and acting as though he’s threatening them and forcing them to confess what they will say. They almost give the whole thing away because Mossano’s muscles are so beautiful. His abs rise and fall, coil and fold as he talks. They have never seen the great Mossano, champion of all of Thailand and seventh place finisher in the Olympia of the world. Mossano is bigger than they imagined a person could be. They’ve never seen someone of such impossibly increased size — shoulders that mountain and arm girth 20+ inches around. In front of the steroid-massed giant, scrawny little undeveloped Shen and Ban suddenly stiff solid ones in their pants. But Mossano is so familiar and used to that kind of thing that it doesn’t register as a warning flag. Shen and Ban tell Mossano, as though confessing, that they have given Simb an illegal package, using Simb as an unsuspecting mule. But, they explain, he has to be “saved” for they’ve heard a police trap is set for the other gym. Mossano is furious. He will charge to help his son. He roars at the scum that have come to him. Scarab sneers and growls at the scum too. He enjoys the chance to act vile towards anyone, even his own accomplices — getting a charge always to be superior where he can be. He holds each of the guys hands behind their respective backs, lusty with the comprehension that he literally has the physical power to restrain them simultaneously each with a single fist. The muscles in Scarab’s shoulders flex in displaying expression as he shifts to subtle poses — pose after pose — while he holds them. Scarab then says aloud to Mossano, “Have no fear, brother, these two drug dealers will join us and I will force them to play their role.” Then Scarab smiles with a truly carnivorous look. His traps pop definitionally around his neck. Mossano says “good.” And then before they leave MRP GYM, he gives the keys for both gyms plus the code for the wall safe to Scarab. Mossano says, “I’ve never given these to you before, but I’m not sure how long resolving this will take at the other gym, and at the police station, and in the court…. Plus I have to see about getting these two young drug runners into some kind of reform. It’s best that someone in good trust has control until I am back.” Scarab thinks quickly, “Can you text that quickly to my phone as well?” he says slyly, “In case it does take you a long time and anyone asks if you left me in charge.” Mossano suspecting nothing, sends the text. They thunder across town as a group on motorbikes. Heads whip tracking the massbeast of Mossano hulking upon his machine. The pure masculinity of such massive muscularity has those passed by gaping. As they go, Mossano doesn’t spot Simb anywhere. As they near MRP II Gym, his concern grows. When they get to MRPII Gym, they still haven’t found Simb. They head across the parking lot, Mossano in the lead. Scarab falls purposefully behind. Scarab pulls the two scum surreptitiously aside and tells them in a quick, low sinister growl “Get lost. I will take it from here.” He pulls one of their heads into his juiced pecs and lets the pup nuzzle there briefly in the Dianabol-responsible cleft, even allowing him to lick quickly and wantingly at his nipple. Scarab whispers, “This is nothing, you fag. I’m going to have you tit fuck mountainous monster pecs that are inhuman when I’m 100 pounds bigger and more dominant than a god.” Then he gives the guy a command, “make sure that sniveling little boy Simb… never comes around MRP Gyms again.” Scarab races after Mossano and catches up just past the door. Inside, there are seven cops. Eighteen year old Simb is in their grasp. Simb is so young and fragile —flustered, lanky, rattled, distressed. The currier bag sits emptied of its illegal contents on the counter. The head cop, a commissioner, turns and says to those arriving, “This is tremendously serious. This delinquent will be going to jail for a long time.” Mossano does not recognize that the scum have not come in. He says, “No no, once you have the explanation of who is really responsible you will let him go.” The commissioner says, “Yes if we are given another responsible we will let this one go.” He says this because earlier the two scum had come to the police station claiming to be informants who could help them capture Mr Thailand who they said had been behind illegal drug running for a long time. The police officers on duty had all chorused, “THE Mr. Thailand? Mossano Bakkani? He who has a vee taper to a thirty two inch waist and weighs 278 pounds with arms that are 21 inches around?” Each officer knew the most famous muscular body in Thailand. So famous no one else had a fraction of the same public recognition. It is ubiquitous what the hypersexual, hypermighted silhouette of Mossano Bakkani looks like. All those overly male police officers are familiar with how the small posers of the king lounge over his ass and wrap atop his horse cock. “Yes,” the scum had said, “that is the one.” The pulse rates of those officers back at the station had gone up at even the mention of a man so self-endowed and huge. Now here in front of many of those officers, is the actual Mr Thailand. He is a man who simply can’t be real. His shoulders simply stretch too far and aloft from his neck. His torso circles at every level with immeasurability. He is too rockishly dense, too cord-thewed, and too beefily enlarged. He has muscles with more muscles on top. Mossano turns like an aircraft carrier, his legs like temple columns. He looks to have the scum confess but sees Scarab standing all alone in his stringer with his little roid-hungry physique on display. “They got away,” mouths Scarab syrupy and with what he hopes looks like a pained shrug. “Why are you looking around?,” the commissioner says to Mossano, “why don’t you just tell us the truth so that your son here can be let go?” Mossano sees the situation and walks to Scarab. His championship bodybuilder body imposes in on Scarab. Mossano’s monumental excess presses predatorily over Scarab’s lesser swole. Mossano whispers to Scarab, “I am going to explain to the officers that this crime was really done by the two drug runners. You will back me up, right?” he says warningly, “I need to know.” Scarab whispers back, “I don’t know what you are talking about. If you insist on such stories you are probably sending your son to a certain long time in jail.” “That would be a very unfatherly thing to do,” Scarab adds in a cold purr. Mossano understands now that he has been betrayed but must save his son. He turns to the commissioner and says, “It was not my son, it was me. I lied to him about what was in the bag and told him they were legal anabolic drugs.” The cops descend on Mossano and handcuff him. He is as powerful as Hercules. Reflexive at being confined, he explodes open the chains. He swings his enormous guns. Officers bowl over backward in every direction. The police ogle from the floor, all truly in awe. He is definitively the greatest and one of the most massive men that has ever been in Thailand and currently is one of the top ten most muscular men in the entire world. The commissioner says, “we will handcuff you again, and If you do not cooperate we will also take the boy.” Mossano turns to look at Scarab. He flexes his might body into a double bicep pose and snorts and growls. He is 40% bigger than Scarab. His torso heaves. His legs thunder with their gargantuan magnitude. It is imposing to behold. But then Mossano submits to the handcuffing and is taken from the gym. As soon as they leave, Simb runs crying to his uncle. “This can’t be! We have to help get my dad free.” Scarab puts his fists on his hips and raises his chest and shoulders inflating and flexing the mass he has even as it pales to what his older brother just showed. He is going to change that now. He knows he‘s going to grow so much much much bigger than he’s been. He’s the one who will use Mossano’s drugs and money and resources now. The world will see what truly wild use of all three can really do. He won’t restrain himself in any temperate way he thinks his brother has. He looks at the weak boy and seethes, “You incompetent weakling! You did this! Your father has been dealing like this for years and never gotten in trouble. It was the source of all his ability to pretend who he was and gain the mass and might that won him awards. You have ruined it and have sent him to jail. I will bring you back to the gym now and tell everyone what you have done. They love your father there.” Scarab is in full sleazy condescension now and continues, “You will have destroyed him and yourself in their eyes. But maybe if you disappear I can save his reputation and explain it was you. His imprisonment will be forever on your pathetic thin puny weak girlie shoulders but at least the love and reverence of his people can be preserved and you won’t destroy that love.” It is lies all lies, but Scarab is filled with festering wile and narcissistic need. Simb sputters. The tears flow. His breathing comes in racking sporadic gasps. He has a scrawny body and is gangly tall. But, mostly in that moment he is just a bereft son, almost a little boy. The moaning continues as he says, “But…. I didn’t mean…. It was all an…… I can’t leave my mother…. Can’t leave Naylon…” Scarab turns from the boy, bored. He has eyes in the mirror then only for himself. He pulls his stringer down low and pushes his workout pants off his bunched underwear. He admires his torso lean though it is, as defined as it is. And his arms and legs. Yes. He is defined. And has muscular definition. But he will grow grotesquely massive now. Sickly so. And then even far more disgustingly when he wants. Thailand is to have a true new bodybuilding emperor. One taller and more unrestrained in becoming as impossibly gargantuan as he can. He anticipates tapering to an even crazier narrow vee — he’s always had the blessing of narrower wolf hips than Mossano’s hasn’t he. And shoulder skelature just a little broader naturally. He knows in his gut his genetics hold that in store. God he wants to hulk and pose. “This is all your fault,” Scarab says firmly again to Simb not bothering even to turn around. Simb’s blubbering peters out until finally Simb simply sniffles, “Yes, I will go.” Simb gathers his wallet and comb from the counter. The police say Simb has to go to protective services until they can sort things out about his home. Two of the officers leave with Simb in tow. Scarab is alone with the commissioner now. The commissioner is in his mid-50s. He looks like he lifted a weight or two in his glory days. Just the kind of “straight” authority figure who looks susceptible to a transaction he-man to he-man. The commissioner tells the other officers they can leave. Once the gray-haired commissioner is the only remaining official, Scarab leads him to the gym’s office and closes the door. Scarab looks at the older man’s height of about 5’9”. “I thought I might be able to tell you a little bit about my nephew’s home.” Scarab says low and hard. “That would be completely appropriate to know,” says the commissioner. “I don’t like to say this about Mossano because he is my brother,” hisses Scarab, “but his wife and he can’t stay clean.” “Is that right,” says the commissioner, “Heroine and Cocaine?” “Yes?… Yes, of course. Those two drugs and so many more….you should think of them as using whatever would keep a couple permanently in jail, would keep a teenage son from returning home.” Scarab leans back on the edge of the desk. His legs splay in the loose-crotched fitness pants but he knows his thighs are developed enough and muscular enough for the dominant twenty five year old that he is. He balls his hands into fists and slowly raises them up in front of himself as though doing a preacher lift. His biceps curl into 17.75” swells. He eyes the commissioner and then each veiny bi in turn. And then he eyes the commissioner once again. The commissioner says, “Of course, we’d need to be doing blood screenings of Mr and Mrs Bakkani to confirm what you say is true.” “Tests of their blood you say?” says Scarab. Scarab slowly swings his left fist from where it is curled in front out to the side and then up. His right fist mimics it next. He is widening his lats until they show they are suggestive of small barn doors. His shoulders mount into miniature boulders. “Is the use of a blood test very necessary?” Scarab coos. “It is,” says the commissioner — he is tough in some ways, experienced at the way of the world. Scarab is not concerned. He is certain he can get his way. That’s all that matters. He doesn’t care what he does. He says to the commissioner, “I have a session to practice my posing in a few minutes. I’ll only be ready if I change as we talk. You understand that don’t you?” “Yes. Of course. We all have schedules.” “I take off my stringer first, don’t you agree?” “No, preparing to pose, one would take off their training pants first. Isn’t that right?” “Oh yes,” says Scarab, “You are completely correct.” Scarab pushes the pants down to his ankles. He wriggles each foot free. The pants get kicked to the side and he stands there in just his oversized boxer underwear. “You see, I work out,” Scarab says. He splays his legs. Individual cords of muscle rope atop his twenty nine and a half inch thighs rising and falling. “Hmmhum,” says the commissioner. Scarab crosses his hands to the front hem of his stringer. He lifts it over his head and off. He lets it dangle from the fingers of his left hand before dropping it to the floor. He stands in “relaxed pose”. His pecs cast the shadow of someone who’s cycled a number of times. His nipples are dark brown. “I workout lifting weights,” Scarab says looking slowly at each of his body parts in a choreographed show. “You know resistance exercise is an important path to virility, to being more and more strong, to making a true man, to being desired. Resistance exercises make a man’s muscles toned.” The commissioner says, “Very important” “Of course I don’t just keep my muscle toned do I?” says Scarab. “No.” “That may be the way of some, right?” Scarab says. “Yes.” “But that’s not mine, is it?” Scarab says. He steps forward. He’s about eight feet from the lawman. He pulls up the bottom hems of the boxers and shows his thighs more fully. They are rippling and corded. Then he smiles cruelly and pushes the boxers down and free from his legs, discarding the boxers atop the rest of his clothes. The commissioner looks at Scarab’s groin. “No, I don’t like that. You should turn around.” The commissioner hasn’t liked the undersized penis or the absent balls. Scarab turns and the Commissioner looks at the young pterodactyl back. It’s veined and knotted. Below, the ass fills beautifully. The sphincter chasm holds like a sculpted gate. The commissioner sees a bin of posers on a shelf. He pulls an especially skimpy neon orange one from the top. He throws it against the muscle back that Scarab has. “You have posing practice,” the commissioner says, “oughtn’t you put that on?” Scarab bends and reaches behind. His asshole opens. His hamstrings look like cuts flayed of skin. Scarab puts one foot into a tiny leg hole and then switches to put his other foot in the other. He drags the stretching fabric up over the maple tree trunks of his legs. He shimmies the poser onto his ass and snaps it into place. The fabric expands. The waistband threads over and around his sculpted hips. The stretching is barely scanty. The leg hems climb the freshness of his thighs and curve away past his hips toward his front. Scarab turns and his penis is now vacuumed up into a miniature but meated blatantly outlined mound. “Better?” Scarab asks. “Yes,” the commissioner replies. Scarab takes another three steps toward the commissioner. “I believe you may have had some experience ‘working out’,” Scarab says. “Yes,” comes the commissioner’s reply. “But you are nothing compared to me, Right?” Scarab asks. “Yes.” Scarab tightens into a most muscular and then inflates to an impressing double biceps, lats flared and legs on display. “I’m big aren’t I?” he says. “Yes. Yes you are.” Scarab is forcing his displaying arm in the worshipper’s face. “I’m only going to get bigger.” He snorts as he goes to a back flare. “Can you imagine that?” Scarab brags. He flows to a right side bicep pose and a left after that. “Yes. oh. Yes you are.” “Can you conceive how I feel?” Scarab drawls, stomping his left foot to explode his thigh, “Conceive how I will feel?” The commissioner says, “uurrr.” Scarab swings his left foot forward and then his right. His thighs already wobble some with weight. The flesh on them echoes to a stop after each step. He approaches the commissioner moving a juvenile bull’s size with each slow step. He brings his porny-ness right to the commissioner’s face. His lips are inches from the commissioner’s eyes. “Do you have any conception of how dripping this all is? Do you? Of how I feel? Of what it is to be endowed this way? Do You?” His breath oozes masculinity. The commissioner responds. Perhaps it is a “no” but more it is hard to tell and just sounds like a moan. Scarab says, “I don’t think there needs to be any bloodwork to know that Mossano and Sarai have been using the illicit cocaine, heroine and meth that they have polluted our city with, do you?” And the commissioner pulls himself together and says clearly, “No.” And then Scarab puts his tongue in the commissioner’s throat and moves the commissioner’s hands onto his rock hard sexualized body. “Fondle, Lick, Worship, Enjoy, you puny fucker,” croaks Scarab, “don’t even think about the fact that you will have to deal with me after I’ve executed my plan to get 70% more huge — you’d probably like that wouldn’t you, you fuck? A dom that massive? muscle that grotesque and obscene bearing down on you? Dominating you? Making you a fucking fuck toy? You’re such a pansy, puny fag man. It’s my pleasure to fully destroy fuck drip like you.”
  2. Vasilij

    Sophie’s family

    The door to the shower opened and two gigantic teenage athletes came into the locker room, torrents of sex juices finally washed from their perfect bodies. Girl and boy, they were equally impressive and powerful. Sophie took her towel to dry off and started with her firm boobs. Owen saw this and his soft dick, already being the size of an average boner, started swelling. - Still not satisfied, gym boy? - giggled Sophie and seductively licked her lips. - I never am, but I can wait. First let’s go to your house. I’d like to meet your parents. Hopefully you don’t have any issues. - Well, mom doesn’t interfere with my dates, but my dad is sometimes… critical. - Critical? - He thinks I should only date “worthy” men, as he says. It’s not like he bullied my previous boyfriends, but he may want to test you. My dad is a bodybuilder too and he loves to compete. - Some family you have, but it will be fun for me. Let’s go! My own dad doesn’t need me right now and, besides, he already knows who is the man of the house. Sophie lived in a single-family house. When she knocked the door, it was opened by a young man, a few years older than Owen and equally muscular, except he was pale and red haired, while Owen was tan and brunette. - Hi sis, that wimp is your new boyfriend? - How did you call me? - asked Owen coldly, clenching his massive fists. - Don’t be angry, Davis didn’t mean to offend you. Davis, this is Owen. I met him at the gym. - So my dick’s not enough for you, sis? - Wait, you guys fuck each other?! - Owen wasn’t disgusted, after he was fucking his own dad, but he was surprised. - If a pussy is next to me, it is mine. - stated Devis, flexing his half hard dick through the jeans. - Actually, big brother, he might be a little bigger than you down there. - We’ll see. Come in, you should meet dad. They went through the house to the door which has led to the back yard. Even before opening it Owen heard loud masculine hoofs and moans. The backyard was made into a training ground. There have been a lot of empty bars, plates, kettlebells, and simple rocks, even the smallest of which would be challenging for an average man to lift. There have also been a few unusually big and thickly built benches. What impressed Owen the most was the user of the weights - an old and already grey bodybuilder at least equal to his own size, though not as ripped, was benching a bar twice the girth of normal bars in the gym, loaded with ten big plates of each side. - Hey there, kids. - said the giant casually, not even slowing the reps - Let me finish this set first. - Wow, that’s more than my usual weight. How much exactly. - 1500… - the man gritted his teeth and struggled in a last rep - pounds! He racked the weight behind his head and it smashed to the concrete floor. Owen mentioned to himself that the old bodybuilder didn’t have anything spitting him, but this beast was too strong to need any. - Dad, this is Owen. He lives in this town and I decided to date him. - Well hello, boy. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone but my kids being so close to me in size. My name is Mitch. - Nice to meet you. - Owen shaked the old man’s hand. - Hey, pops. Maybe we should welcome him into our family and test if these muscles aren’t just for show? - asked David. - You are right. What’s the matter boy, nervous. Owen actually was, for the first time in his life he wasn’t sure if his strength will be enough. Still, he wasn’t gonna refuse the challenge. His motto was: “Any opponent is just a bitch I haven’t fucked yet”. First came the measuring contest between Owen and Davis. Mitch was the judge and he also ordered what poses to make, while Sophie just enjoyed the view. Both studs stroke one mighty pose after another, but each time Owen managed to flex his a little harder, making his muscles swell an inch more and look more defined. Davis was annoyed and strained to outflex him until his pale skin became red, but Owen was still the winner. - Who’s the wimp now? - There is still manhood to measure. - answered Davis. - Make ‘em hard, boys. Sophie, motivate them. The muscle girl was already horned up after watching the bodybuilding skeptical. Without a second thought she took off her pants and underwear, revealing a pussy still tight even after Owen’s savage assault at the gym. Davis got hard first, his duck rising over his navel. - Check this out. That’s the cock that owns this pussy. - You sure? - Owen smirked. During years of practice in gym and bed alike he learnt to control his penis as well and his muscles. With a simple concentration he made his eight inch soft swell to a foot long fuck-sword in just a few seconds. Then he strained a little more, growling: “Come one, grow you fucker!”, and his duck grew two inches more, spurting pre cum on his own pecs. Both Mitch and Davis couldn’t help, but utter “Wow”. Owen proudly flexed his pecs, catching his dick and massaging it with them. He moaned from the feeling and asked: - Bet none of you boys can give yourself a pec job? - That’s just the first round, kid. Let’s see how much you can lift.
  3. Vasilij

    Challenging dad

    My first try, so please don’t judge harshly. ”Really? You think you can beat me, boy?” - chuckled John. He was a giant middle aged bodybuilder with 400 lbs of hairy rock-hard muscle packed on his 2 meters long body. His squared face was ruggedly handsome, with a short beard and mustache covering it. “Think? I fucking know it! I’ve inherited your best genes and I am now 18, so it looks like there is gonna be a new man of the house!” - responded his son cockily. Owen could be described as a pretty boy with his smooth tanned body and boyish, even cute face. However, even though less masculine than his dad, he was equally huge. To enhance his point, he flexed a double bicep pose, two huge peaks swelling almost to the size of basketball. Owen kept the pose for a few seconds, growling confidently and enjoying the pose. However, his dad was not intimidated and responded: “All right, champ, let’s wrestle! The winner takes the loser. Just don’t blame me when ass starts hurting, he-he.” Father and son were in their homemade gym completely naked, since they didn’t feel any shame constantly competing with each other in lifting weights or running cardio. They always showed off and admired each other, and even now their massive manhoods were half hard with apple sized cum-filled balls hanging beneath them. Owen knew exactly what his father meant by “winner takes the loser” and was eager to completely dominate him. There was enough empty space in the gym, so John and Owen decided to wrestle right here - they didn’t need mats, because their bodies were too tough to feel pain from falling on the floor. They were both fired up for wrestling and soon their dicks became foot long steel-like poles dripping precum on the floor. Two muscle beasts charged at each other and started grappling. During half an hour one has put another into a hold, but in a few seconds the opponent managed to free himself. When testosterone level have reached it’s peak, they, despite the word “wrestling” moved to punches. Once Owen got hit into his eight pack abs. This punch could have left a dent in concrete, but Owen just slightly grunted, not suffering but enjoying this feeling. Even his dad was impressed: - You are tougher than I thought, I will give you that. - Like I told you, old man - it’s my time now! After saying that, Owen got John into a bear hug. Dad tried to resist, but his hairy pecs got gave way to even stronger chest of his son, and arms were crushed under young veiny biceps. His cock got painfully squashed by Owen’s pumped abs and ass felt the wet touch of young bodybuilder’s leaking cockhead. “Seems like I have to show you who is the top dog here!” - said Owen with a lusty grin on his face. His muscles were pumped from fighting, his dick got even bigger than usual, he reveled his own superiority and power. After strangling his dad for about a minute, young stud through him on the floor, jumped on top of him and immediately drove his man meat into the hairy ass, almost ripping the sphincter in process. John growled in the mix of pain and anger, but was too weakened to resist the arms of his son keeping him on the floor. Owen pounded his dad with such force that would have crushed an average man’s pelvis. His unstoppable dick was reaching the guts of John, making the older manly bodybuilder moan like some kind of a pussyboy. It lasted for about ten minutes until finally Owen let out a loud extatic roar and started shooting thick and voluminous cum. His dad was almost unconscious by now, his ass bruiced and his abs floating due to enormous supply of his own son’s semen. Finally Owen rose, his cock still standing hard and spewing now smaller loads. He felt great - his dad have always been the source of inspiration for him, a specimen of perfect masculinity and unbeatable power. But now the older bodybuilder was surpassed, defeated and claimed by his own son. “Fuck yeah! I wonder if there will be any other challenges for me now. I’m gonna continue growing till any other bodybuilder will be nothing more but my cocksleeve” - he thought and then went to the shower, casually stroking his dick and feeling his sweaty muscles.
  4. FallenAway

    Role Reversal by LORUS

    With permission from LORUS, I am posting yet another of his stories that was deleted from the old forum but saved on my hard drive. As expected, this is another story about men who don't know the meaning of the words, "HUGE ENOUGH" and get a bit cranky when their growth slows down. ROLE REVERSAL by LORUS Based on a role-playing scenario by LORUS and MuscleMike85 The Boner Club was a special society at Edmonton Valley High, formed, in secret, by the Phys Ed Coach Chuck Mathers, upon instruction from the Regional Education Office Superintendent, the PTA, and the Edmonton Police Force, to keep unruly but exceptionally (physically) gifted male students in check. Okay, so it didn’t officially have a title; the Boner Club was its collective, colloquial reference, which seemed to stick after a few mentions of it in jest. These were all under-achievers in academic fields, and far too argumentative and troublesome on the football field, or the track, to ever bring Edmonton Valley to the State Championships in any team sport. But they were gifted, exceptional athletes, one and all, specifically where muscle development was concerned. The parents of the PTA wanted their special sons to get something beneficial from their school days without tearing up the house in frustration as their strength increased. The Police wanted them to keep themselves occupied so they didn’t get up to destructive mischief on the streets, short of imposing a curfew, which many considered a little too severe. The Regional Superintendent hated to see his schools under-performing, so if he could endorse “clubs” like this in other schools, then it might catch on and even become curriculum. All of this came under approval of the Mayor’s Office. Josh O’Neill was best friends with one of the Boners, Clay Ryan, but hated when his best friend, who’d only been lifting for a year and a half, wouldn’t reveal to Josh the secret to his bodybuilding. It was a Boner Club secret; a member must never give away the secret, something only Coach Mathers truly understood, but that his boys exploited to their fullest extent. Josh, like the Boner Club members, had been held back an academic year (they all should have graduated by now), and he considered himself good enough to join the Club. But Coach Mathers, a beefy brute of a man if ever there was one, felt he didn’t measure up. Josh was 175lbs at five feet ten in height and could bench three-sixty for 12 reps before needing a spot. He considered himself big for his age. But during his last assessment Coach Mathers scratched his head and failed to tick more than a couple of boxes on Josh’s score sheet. “Thing is, kid. You’re just not big enough. To get into the Boner Club, you need to be able to bench five hundred pounds for twelve reps straight. You need at least another thirty pounds of muscle on that scrawny frame of yours,” Mathers somewhat acerbically stated. There was no need for him to shatter Josh’s hopes like that and put him down so. “Come back when you’ve got the muscle and the strength, and I’ll re-test you.” That was as far as he would get with Coach Mathers. Josh needed a tactic, and fast. He was causing problems at home, failing more and more in the classroom, simply because all he could think about was muscle, getting bigger... no HUGE... and algebra would never cause that to happen for him. Fuck school. It was holding him back. One afternoon, over at Clay’s house, as they struggled through their math homework, knowing they got most of the answers wrong, Josh decided to come clean with Clay, regarding his sexual orientation. “I’m gay, Clay. How do you feel about that?” Josh fidgeted with his pencil as nerves began to kick in. He had a feeling that Clay might at least be bisexual. But to be honest he wasn’t sure how the muscle freak would react. Clay took it well and held his hand reassuringly. “I’m okay with that. I’m not into that kind of thing myself, but I’ve no problem with you being that way. You got a boyfriend yet?” “Nope, I’ve only recently realized this about myself. But I know Tim Wilson is gay and single, and a member of your Boners Club. He’s so beautiful, and I’d have a huge crush on you if he didn’t always push you out of my thoughts when I’m alone.” Josh lowered his head mock-shamefully. “Ah, so now I know your reason for wanting to become a member. Hmm, what did Coach Mathers say?” “He told me I need to get heavier and bench more. He was such a jerk about it, too. He made me feel tiny. Trouble with me is I don’t gain muscle as easily as you guys. Heck, you’re huge for your age, Clay. What are you now, two-thirty’’ “I’m closer to two-fifty... actually. We’re really packing on the muscle these days. It’s amazing at how well Coach Mathers’ methods are benefiting us,” said Clay proudly. To emphasize this, he curled up his arm and a gorgeous granite-peak of a bicep bulged upwards, thickly corded with manly veins. Josh’s eyes bulged vastly in their sockets. Beneath the kitchen table at which they sat Josh’s boner began to assert itself. The temperature of the room seemed to go up slightly. He felt hot and horny all at once. Clay was a quite good-looking young man, but Tim Wilson was already bigger than a great many heavyweight pro-bodybuilders, and had the face of a male model, reminding Josh a little of Sean Cassidy, one of his favorite muscle hunks on the internet. (Sean Cassidy photo inserted by Fallen Away for readers who were not old enough to be horny in 2003) “My advice to you is, you should join a gym in town and get yourself a personal trainer. I heard of an old guy... well actually he’s about the same age as my dad, about thirty-eight, I guess. His name is Stu Hardwick, and the guy is frickin’ enormous, I mean super-huge, the lucky freak. He’s new in town, apparently. He trains and teaches at Burt’s Muscle Shop over on Drury St. I think he and Coach Mathers don’t like each other for some reason, probably because he makes Mathers look as small as he made you feel the other day. I’ll try to get his number and you can call him. He’s not cheap, though.” Clay was a good friend and made Josh feel a lot better. Despite him swearing an oath never to reveal the secret of his growth, he didn’t treat his best friend as his inferior just because he was turning into a muscle god. “Well, I was saving for my first car, as you know. I got sixteen hundred saved in the bank. I could use that to hire this Hardwick guy. If it can get me into the Boner Club so I can try my luck with Tim Wilson, then it will be money well-spent.” Josh had brightened considerably. They spent the rest of the afternoon working out in Clay’s converted garage and he really helped Josh to improve much of his technique. He told Josh that he would get in contact with Hardwick as soon as he was able to and get back to him when he had news. Josh only had to wait less than forty-eight hours. He was idly channel-surfing, finding nothing interesting to watch on television, when Clay called him on his cellphone. Josh held his breath, hoping it would be good news: “I got talking to Stu. He’s an okay guy. A bit cocky, but he’s fuckin’ huge, so I guess he’s entitled to be. He said he will take you on as a client for a grand even. He operates on a one-off up-front payment basis. No refunds.” Josh was thrilled to hear this. He thanked Clay who summarily forwarded him Stu’s number. Josh called him immediately after speaking with Clay. The voice on the other end of the line was deep, gruff, and masculine. Josh explained who he was and stated his case. Stu told him that he could give him the mass he so desperately craved, that it would be worth seeing the look on Mathers’ face when he passed his next assessment with flying colors. He couldn’t wait to meet Stu who arranged for their first session the very next day at 9.30am, which suited Josh because it was the start of Spring Break. Traditionally most of the guys his age would be out of town for the festivities, so the gyms in town would be near-empty. That suited Josh fine. He reckoned that Stu might be able to focus better on him with fewer clients to deal with than normal. Josh wondered about how much he would show him in a week. Naturally he found it difficult to get to sleep that night. He was way too excited. But eventually he drifted off and had a wet dream about being a huge muscle hunk, with Tim Wilson for his boyfriend. Awesome. ***** Next day Josh was awake bright and early, and having taken the advice of Clay, ate a hearty protein-rich breakfast of oatmeal, a can of tuna, and a high-protein shake, not his usual fare. But he wanted to get big enough to become a Boner. His parents never ever witnessed him get up so early on a Saturday morning, but today was special. It was the beginning of a new phase of his life. He biked across town to Drury St, thinking the pedaling would loosen up his lower limbs and get his heart rate up. He was there before Stu Hardwick and was instantly stopped at the reception desk. A well-fleshed muscleman gave him a superficial once-over. “What’s your game, buddy?’’ Hardly the welcome he was expecting. “I’m here at the gym because I wanna get huge, but I need help, so I’d like to sign up and hire Stu Hardwick. Half-expecting to be told he didn’t measure up to the standards required by Burt’s Muscle Shop (his failed assessment by Mathers was playing heavily on his mind, making it difficult to act confidently around bodybuilders, except for Clay, of course), he was somewhat surprised when the guy simply said: “Okay,” and handed him an application form to fill out. By the time he’d handed it back, and then agreed to an affordable student price plan, Hardwick, as imposing and unforgettable in form as bodybuilders could be, strode into the lobby and dropped his kit bag, nodding a hello to Lou behind the counter as he stretched his neck a couple of times, causing bones to crack loudly. He took one look at the scrawny kid waiting nervously for him and thought to himself: this fag will never make the grade. But he remembered that he was taking him on, that he was a friend of a Boner Club Member, and that was enough to qualify him as client material. “Heh,” Stu said by way on an introduction, “The look on Mathers face when I bulk you up so big he won’t be able to deny you access to his little fag gathering will be worth more to see than what you’re paying.” Josh hadn’t expected to hear anything like this from Hardwick so soon. Could there be some hidden agenda here? Josh quickly dismissed the notion as ludicrous. “You and I need to have a little talk, kid. What was your name again?” Hardwick towered above Josh, a massively huge athlete like no other, hot, musky, and incredibly masculine. Hell, he was ten times the man Tim Wilson was. Hadn’t Clay told him he was thirty-eight or something like that’ He looked way younger, but his massive build and age-defying good looks made it seem like he was only in his mid-twenties. Josh doubted that Stu was anything but straight, so he didn’t want to come out with an erection upon meeting him. Best to dumb down his sexuality, at least until they got comfortable working together. He stammered out his name. Stu Hardwick grunted something under his breath and then turned to the guy manning the desk. “Lou, toss me the key to Burt’s office upstairs. He doesn’t mind me using it when he’s away.” Hardwick was an imposing fellow, the kind of guy who doesn’t take no for an answer and always gets his way. Josh tried not to lust after him, but it was difficult not to. Thank fuck he’d opted to wear baggy sweats to hide tell-tale bulges he felt were best kept to himself. Josh was very nervous when Hardwick took him out of the public areas and into the privacy of the office. The door was auto-locking, and Josh dry-swallowed anxiously when Hardwick kicked the door shut behind them and the dead-bolt mechanism fired. What was going to happen now? “I’ll be honest with you. Under normal circumstances I would never work with someone so scrawny. I don’t have the patience to wait for you to fill out. I like fast results, and I like to cut corners.” To illustrate his point, Stu Hardwick, muscle-behemoth, ripped off his tracksuit top, revealing a skin-tight wife-beater beneath. It clung to his massive musculature like a second skin, and this time Josh simply couldn’t hide his erection. Hardwick’s muscle-musk was filling the room, an intoxicating scent that began to drive Josh’s libido crazy. Suddenly Hardwick blasted a most muscular in Josh’s face, his huge, wide body of utter confidence and beauty shrieking into a definition that was almost surreal. Every muscle stood to attention next to its neighbor, but space was at a premium across this hunk, and the muscles needed to push against one another simply for the space to exist. This made them become engorged with blood as his own libido and excitement flooded his system with hot blood and turbo-charged testosterone. Had his body been a car-engine, right now it would have been given a shot of nitrous oxide. Ripped, fucking huge muscles erupted across every part of him, demanding Josh focus on them and nothing but. “But your friend who called me is in the Boner Club, so I guess these ain’t normal circumstances. How does my incredible size grab you son?” Stu Hardwick chuckled as he caught sight of the tenting happening in the front of Josh’s sweats. He leaned heavily into his most muscular pose, squeezing his muscles harder and growing stronger in the process. The musk from his pores now hung in the musty air of the office like a heat haze, drenching Josh’s senses. A precum patch darkened the front of his sweats. Hardwick chuckled some more. The twinks always were the quickest to come under his spell. “Gonna have this little bastard cumming in minutes, heh... heh... heh,” Hardwick thought. He decided there and then that Josh could prove useful to him in the not-too-distant future. “Oh my God,” Josh panted, beginning to sway uncertainly on his feet, as reality around him began to melt into a dreamy, sumptuous haze, “You-you’re massive. Holy shit, I can’t believe how immense you are.” Snorting something inaudible, the towering monster-hunk that was Stu Hardwick proclaimed proudly: “I got to where I am today liftin’ heavy, eatin’ heavy, and fucking every guy or girl that crosses my path. Want to touch my watermelon-sized guns?” They were some huge watermelons he sported; the biggest Josh had ever seen. Josh staggered back against Burt’s desk to steady himself. He was afraid to touch any part of Hardwick, thinking he’d faint to the floor if he did. Hardwick hated reluctance in any shape or form. Reluctant people never succeeded at their goals in life. They certainly didn’t make it to be super-huge muscle gods like he was. Things began to get forced from here on. Introductions aside, lust began to get the better of Stu. He’d not fucked, sucked, or swallowed in many a day and his balls were in dire need of milking. He barked, in a menacing but guttural manly brogue: “Actually, I fucking order you to worship me... and my awesome, mind-blowing size!” His bark tapered off to a snarl that only made him seem more powerful, menacingly beautiful because of it. Josh whimpered as he stepped towards Stu, bringing himself into touching distance, and as he did, the precum in his shorts began to make him quite wet. His erection was full-on, now, and there was fuck all he could do about it but conform to this god’s demands. He gingerly groped the cannonball gun as Hardwick flexed it larger, harder. Josh thought the bicep veins couldn’t engorge further, but they did, swelling far beyond nature’s design. Hardwick grimaced boldly, arrogantly, snarling through pearly whites as though he wasn’t pleased by the intensity of his flex. He hollered out a string of profanity, cords in his neck thickening beyond the width of human fingers, his rage fueling his demands for growth and power. Josh’s lust overcame his trepidation when just feeling the augmenting bicep brought him to the brink of orgasm. He fought against it, managing to contain his ecstasy. “Oh man, it’s harder than... than steel,” Josh gasped, now groping the muscle mound of Stu’s bicep with increasing desire. “Run your tongue across my bicep veins. Spend time getting acquainted with the secondary peak on my bi, bisected by the thickest vein you’ll ever see, until I get bigger, of course,” Stu growled, enjoying the sticky but cool trail of saliva on his skin as Josh did as he was told and began to explore the bicep with his tongue. The feeling bolstered newfound power in Stu Hardwick, and he tensed his arms still further, his forearm alone wider than Josh’s thigh. He pumped at the wrist, coaxing a further, deeper flex along his entire arm. Impossible, but his bicep engorged itself larger and the excitement made his entire upper body swell so that threads broke in places where his wife-beater suffered the most strain. Meantime, lower down, his gym shorts became drenched in his own precum, and a massive bulging mass began to awaken and uncoil inside. “Fuck, kid. My bis are now way thicker than your scrawny legs. But I need more mass, more fucking incredible size!” “Holy Shit! Man, I’d give anything to be even half your size,” gasped Josh. “Uh-huh, I hear ya, Joshie. But I’m too powerful for you like this. You need bringin’ on. And I got just the thing... the secret of all your Boner Club buddies.” Hearing this caused Josh to rear back as he forced himself to take a reality check. Had he heard Stu correctly, or was he hearing things – “dreamed fancies” superimposed over the ambience of reality? Before Josh could respond or react in any way, Stu whipped out an imposing-looking syringe and allowed it to glint in the light from the skylight above. “I’ve got a little jab for you to take in the ass. Afraid of needles, kid?” “Not if it’ll help me to get huge,” Josh answered in all honesty. “Hmm, well I’ll be honest with you. You will never exceed my size, not even near to it. Last time I checked, I weighed 1266lbs, six times the weight of most superheavyweight bodybuilders.” Hearing this amazing number caused Josh to let out a submissive moan. His shorts and sweatpants were now sodden with precum. The smell in the modest office space grew stronger and stronger. Josh was surprised he hadn’t yet shot his load, but there was something almost mystical about Stu Hardwick, in which he owned every moment, and could almost make time and its consequences bend to his will. Stu wasn’t finished quoting his stats either: “My chest is 197 inches cold, 230 flexed. I’ve got 74-inch arms flexed, probably even bigger now. My waist is only 38 inches, but my quads and hamstrings measure 110 inches right the way around. And what you’re about to see come outta my shorts... heck... you can tell from my bulge that I’ve got an anaconda stirring down there.” There was no way Stu Hardwick was straight. Obviously from what he said earlier about fucking men and women, he was one of those over-confident macho-types who considered themselves omni-sexual, “comfortable with both sexes,” seeing little difference between a dripping pussy and a steaming manhole, so long as it got him off. It looked like Stu’s pet anaconda was about to emerge from its den. And it was hungry. Josh declared: “It’s as big as one of my legs,” when Hardwick shrugged out of his shorts, so that he was now almost fully naked, but for the ruined wife-beater that struggled to cling on, as though it were a thing alive and aware of the danger it was in. “Yeah kid, my dick is the biggest in the world, 30 inches fully hard and 18 inches thick. It’s not quite there yet, though,” Hardwick growled, with a hint of mischief in his tone. Then he added as an afterthought: “There’s no way you can take all this man meat, looking like you do. The jab will change that to some extent and then we can both benefit from this meeting. Heh, wait until Mathers, that thief-fuck, gets sight of you after Spring Break.” Josh gave himself completely to Stu Hardwick, lust causing him to err on the wrong side of caution. There was no telling what side effects he might suffer after the injection. All thoughts of Tim Wilson were now expunged from his mind. There was only one man in the world for him now, Stu Hardwick, mega-huge muscle-hunk. Josh took the needle in the butt like a good little twink and muttered: “I want to be a god like you, Stu!” “You need to understand, though, I’m growing like a pandemic, kid. I’ve already surpassed my highest expectations. I never thought I could break a thousand pounds. But look at me, almost thirteen hundred. Fuck yeah! Mathers and I were at college together, once very close partners in science, and we majored in biochemistry. This stuff you just got shot with came out of a failed experiment to help improve motor functions in lab rats with damaged spines. The drug was meant to build bridges between severed nerve fibers, but I fucked up the composition, you might say, and instead the serum alters male hormones, turning the endocrine system into a muscle-making factory. It not only thickens all muscle fibers throughout the body but causes them to divide like single cells. Fueled by testosterone and charged by sperm production, it’s a massive growth-inducer. And Mathers stole it from me. This is my last syringe, kid. But you’re going to help me get back the formula. But more on that later. For now, GROW!!!! Fucking GROW, grrrrrrrrrrr!!!” The things he told Josh caused the kid’s mind to stir with so many questions. But he put them aside, giving his full attention to what was about to happen. At first he felt nothing but the jab. Then... a warming of the tissues in his gluteus maximus muscle, followed by an annoying itching and mild burning sensation. Josh felt a bit dizzy and so gripped the desk securely to keep from falling. “Why can’t I get as big as you, Stu?” It was a fair question. The seven-foot giant, wider than he was tall at the shoulders, but looking incredibly aesthetic because of the massive difference in the girth ratios of his barn door shoulders and waspish waist, churned out a full lat spread that sent his deeply striated muscle-tits hulking upwards to slam into the underside of his chin. He seemed to fan out wider, blocking all light from the blinded windows behind him. “I used my own blood and hormones to booby-trap the serum. It voids itself after a couple hundred pounds of muscle. Mathers and the Boner Club are trying to find a way around it, but it’s hardwired, you could say, a little insurance to ensure that I remain the hugest bodybuilder alive. It only causes unlimited growth in me, no one else. Never mind though. In a few minutes you’ll be close to four hundred pounds, I reckon, more than enough muscle for you. But the growth will end there, I’m afraid.” Stu Hardwick almost sounded apologetic. He stood back to give Josh the room he needed in which to grow. “I’m starting to feel... changes. They feel good, Stu. You’re a genius!” “I’m a fuckin’ fool for standing idly by and allowing Chuck the Fuck to form his little collective. He’s using money sifted from Edmonton High’s annual budgets to fuel his research, and the Superintendent is obfuscating this fact ‘cos he’s secretly getting boned by Mathers and has a son in the Boner Club. Mathers and the Superintendent have been secretly spiking the food of potential initiates with small doses of the serum, including your friend Clay. That’s the secret to their muscle growth. You’re going to help me end all this, Josh.” But to do that Josh needed to grow... and grow.... He was hot, and so he shrugged out of his top, but left his pants on. Still though, as he grew, the material began to tighten, sodden with precum and sweat, stretching across his augmenting muscles with a speed that impressed Stu. His body began to grow at an alarming, but uneven pace, some muscle groups growing ahead of others. His legs thickened in manifold spurts, reshaping as his quads blasted outwards, his hamstrings bulging in equal measure, whilst his calves formed hugely into diamonds of perfect symmetry. Even as more muscle poured onto his legs, his bones lengthened, his pelvis widened to make room for more, thick growth. His glutes were reshaped in seconds, pushing outward and upward to form a sexy, manly bubble ass. His legs solidified for a time, as incredible energy surges gathered elsewhere to fuel further growth. This time his pecs, shoulders, delts and traps were the focus. His pecs, where they’d been reasonably attractive buds from what he was able to manage at his modest level of training, now pumped up like balloons, as dozens of pounds of thick, meaty beef was fleshed into them. His nipples and their surrounding sexy areolas grew to ten times their original size, even as his traps hulked up to beefy, super-manly wedges on either side of an enlarging bull-neck. His delts bulged hugely, separating into multiple heads of muscle and his bis and tris took on the aspect of footballs. Stu stood back and gawped at how quickly and amazing Josh’s transformations was. He hadn’t expected it to seize him with such a rapid and intensive transformation. He had to speak out, if only to reassure himself and not swallow his tongue in shock: “I am still your physical superior in every way...,” he flexed hard, massively, still out-muscling Josh to mind-blowing extremes. But Josh was gaining on him, far exceeding the meagre two hundred pounds of muscle he should have gained. “...but I never reacted to the formula like you are. Something must be going wrong.” As Josh continued to bulk up by hundreds of pounds a minute, his muscles almost forming mouths to scream their arrival and demand they be given the space they needed to grow and grow. Stu kicked out a special reinforced scale from beneath Burt’s desk. “Weigh me. I demand it,” growled Josh, his voice ever-deepening into a manly baritone rasp. He flared his lats and hulked out a crab pose to solidify his gains and force more growth out of the process. With his growth came confidence and cocky bodybuilder egotism, and these were feelings he would ‘grow’ to enjoy, he was sure of it. Stu was only too eager to find out the rate of Josh’s gain. Josh was still growing as he stepped on a scale designed for behemoths. “The numbers on the readout are changing so fast,” Stu declared as Josh’s massive body flexed close to his own astonishing bulk. As Josh widened beyond barn door dimensions, it grew dim in the office as the shadow he cast gorged on all the light it encountered. “855 lbs. This is impossible. You’re still growing.” So many concerns flashed across the screen of Stu’s mind. Something was causing Josh to react differently to the serum. But why? Could it just be a fluke reaction? Somehow Josh’s body was bypassing the genetic booby trap in the formula, but there was no way to know what was causing it... or even if it could be controlled. Secretly, inwardly, a part of Stu welcomed this. “Oh man, listen to my voice. Fuck,” Josh loved every moment of his transformation. Additional to his deepening voice and massively growing bodybuilder physique, he was sprouting hair all over, luscious black tufts of manly fur. “Unnnhhhh.... grrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!” He brushed his shovel-sized hands through the delicious black curls across his ever-swelling slabs of chest, marveling at the hairy expanse that jutted out so far from his body. His super-sensitive nipples caused him to moan in rapturous delight when he touched them. As he grew, his height shot up, the top of his head charging towards the ceiling of Burt’s office. Stu was worried that Josh might surpass him, usurping him from his self-ordained title of Biggest Bodybuilder in the World (that he knew of, anyway). He regretted that he was out of serum. He could still grow without it, but the effects, whilst at times impressive, could never hope to equal the gains Josh was currently making. However, Stu tried his best and flexed and flexed his immense muscles like never before, angering up more growth in the hope of staying ahead of Josh and spurting ever huger.... huger.... fucking HUGER!!!!! “Dude, you made me a furry beast. I fuckin’ love it,” Josh roared in utter delight. He was almost matching Stu in height, but still had far less muscle on his bones than the personal trainer. Stu flexed and flexed, crab pose after crab pose, and then flared his lats hugely, making his skin scream in defiance as the growth he coaxed strained against it so that stretch marks began to mottle his parts. Likewise, there were stretch marks all over Josh’s body, even on his dick. He was getting bigger, but would it be enough to win this muscle race? It shouldn’t even be a race at all. Josh O’Neill was a muscle god, now, a true super-freak. But Stu was the master, and he was still ahead in the growth race. Extremely and unexpectedly, Josh stepped off the straining scale and lunged at the older man as his increasing mass made him hornier still. Completely naked, now, his clothes in tatters on the floor, he charged at Stu with a dick almost as big as his own. The testosterone in the room hung almost as a cloud of excreted vapor. Anyone caught in its miasma would immediately have their libido increased many times. Even though Stu was desperate to remain as the Muscle Master, the ‘dominant Alpha Male,’ he couldn’t ignore the fact that he was now deeply attracted to Josh. The kid was all over him like a rash, kissing him deeply in a tongue-ramming session that caused Stu to almost gag as the prehensile organ rushed down his throat and seemed to expand and cut off his air supply. Josh the Giant continued to grow... and grow... and grow....aw yeah! Josh’s face had reshaped also, becoming more manly and rugged, and now he had thick, black stubble around his mouth and jawline which rubbed abrasively against Stu’s own as they continued to suck face. After what seemed like the longest two minutes of his life, Stu had to push him away to grab some air. In the time it had taken them to kiss, Stu was bigger by fifty or sixty pounds or so, but Josh had bulked upwards and outwards by hundreds. “I’m going to surpass you, Stu. As much as it freaks you out to think so, there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it,” hollered Josh, his lust now at meltdown point. Likewise, Stu was too horny to care, for he desired Josh more than he’d ever desired another man in his life. “How could I have underestimated the power of the formula on a newbie?” Nothing about this experience added up or made much sense to him. Josh came at him again, kissing him more sensuously now as his body generated its own brand of musk, a natural perfume that rendered Stu’s own flavor null and void. Josh was potency given a human form. He was raw, incredible, augmenting muscle power. His pecs bulged huger still, pressing into Stu’s slightly more developed shelf. Stu felt himself pushing back in the hope this kinetic collision would fuel his growth further. He needed to be bigger, way bigger. Josh mustn’t win the race for muscle supremacy. The clash of pecs was thunderous in its impact, causing the building to shake. Josh was growing at an alarming rate, and with it his strength was becoming superhuman. Stu felt him all over, concentrating for a time on his biceps, now almost rivalling his own in size and sheer awesome power. “They must be near 70 inches now, I reckon. But mine are still bigger,” Stu announced, blasting a massive mound of bicep into Josh’s face. Rage and lust, not to mention sheer desperation, forced more growth into Stu’s arms. His biceps surpassed the 90-inch mark fully flexed, the thickness of the veins at each apex alone adding an additional inch and a half to their thickness. That morning they had measured 74 inches flexed. But 90 inches wasn’t enough for Stu, not by a mile. He forced himself into a more assertive rage and demanded more growth from his body. But Josh looked set to beat him without trying nearly so hard. “So much growth in me, and you’re losing, Stu,” Josh beamed. “Never! I never lose, you hot, sexy fucking bastard,” Stu screamed. His face boiled with a purple rage, his internal temperature shot up and he hulked out a hundred more pounds in ten seconds. Fifty inches blasted onto his chest as his pecs gained fifty of those hundred pounds alone. His height went up to almost eight feet, his crown connecting with the ceiling so that he was forced to stoop slightly. But for every hundred pounds Stu Hardwick gained on his colossal frame, Josh, the younger, better man, would bulk up by three times that. It was quite clear that Stu couldn’t win this one. There was a new muscle monster in town. “Weigh me again,” Josh snorted, commanding he be served by the lesser bodybuilder. Both men had massive, bulbous, and highly striated chests, making it impossible - certainly for Josh as he stepped once again onto the scale - to bend forwards to read the number display. The straining, soon to be smashed scale was just too far away now. Stu, utterly dismayed, reckoned he himself was a good fifteen hundred pounds, by now, but if so, then Josh equaled him, though the readout wouldn’t settle, and the mechanism in the scale struggled to remain operating, as if it might fail at any moment. “You’re fifteen hundred plus. God, I’m so horny for you, Josh.” Stu couldn’t help it. “So horny for you, MASTER,” Josh interjected, his baritone voice booming, as he corrected the man who must now take a new, lesser position in the bodybuilding pecking order. Josh was proud of who and what he had become, but his muscle-lust was so great now. He had to get bigger, for his appetite to grow exceeded even Stu’s. His dick twitched before him, bobbing hugely, larger than a baseball bat. But he wasn’t happy with his size. He wanted to be bigger still. Fifteen hundred pounds of muscle mass just wasn’t enough for him. He was still growing, but it seemed like he was slowing down. It was an opportunity for Stu to make busy with a tape measure. He began with Josh’s monster-dick. “22 inches long, fully erect. And...,” he wrapped the tape around the dick where it was at its thickest, “... 18 inches thick.” He quickly measured his own, dismayed by the fact that although he’d gotten taller and more muscular, his dick had hardly changed at all. It was 32 inches long and only 20 inches thick. Josh’s sense of elation rose beyond fever pitch. He flexed his mighty dick, making it bob up and down, a massive organic divining rod charged with hypersexual potency. It dripped copious amounts of precum. In fact, the precum flowed easily from both men, now, forming viscous pools on the tiled floor. Stu had to try something. He found some plates from Burt’s personal barbell set in a corner in the office and easily, using raw strength alone, kneaded the holes in each disc with his mighty thumbs. The iron yielded like putty, and soon he had worried the holes large enough so that he could slip them onto Josh’s dick. “Doesn’t mean we’re engaged or nothin’,” he emphasized. Josh understood what he was doing. He welcomed it and began to flex the muscles in his crotch even as they took the combined weight of the swelling monster-dick and its 45kg payload with ease. “How does it feel?” Stu lustily inquired. Josh smiled as his body and his bodybuilder’s ego continued to inflate. “Ha... ha... how does what feel?” laughed Josh, knowing exactly what the older hunk was referring to. “Your dick carrying that weight. Or can you feel it at all?” “Can’t feel a fuckin’ thing. Can’t see the end of my dick ‘cos my massive pecs are blocking my line of sight. Are you sure you put that plate on my dick? How much weight is it anyway?” “45 kilos, damn,” admitted Stu. He flared his lats, attempting to coax out more size. They were physical equals in every way, although Josh’s dick and balls still had a bit of catching up to do. Stu was surprised that he wasn’t more dismayed than he felt. Perhaps he was quickly settling into his new role as the second biggest man on the planet. “Get another plate on there, pronto,” Josh growled, loving every moment of his new life. He could feel the first plate on his dick now growing tighter. Stu quickly did as he was told, pressing out the middle of yet another plate to make it slip over the ever-increasing mushroom head of the stunning eighteen-year-old. “90 kilos on there now,” said Stu, mentally admitting that had the roles been reversed, he would be feeling the strain now. Josh chuckled boyishly for a moment, then remembering his new role, and deepened his voice to a hoarse, throaty drone of a laugh. He bounced his dick some more, feeling no weight on it whatsoever. His organ flooded with blood and growth, and swelled up more hugely than ever, becoming stiffer, stronger, heaving up its payload so that its mushroom head - easily the size of a coffee cup - drew level with Stu’s heavy pecs. Stu could not believe the scale’s readout. The numbers were still going up. “Omifuckingod!!!!!” His throat went dry as sand. He tried to work saliva downwards to lubricate it. He stammered: “Less than ten minutes into the process and you weigh.... I... I... can’t say it, Josh!” His expression was one of total incredulity. “It’s too... unbelievable... and you can’t see the scale yourself,” he added, trying to keep his voice from shaking, however failing to. Still growing in every way and in every direction, Josh had to stoop slightly to stop his head from pushing right through the ceiling and into the space between floors. “Your weight is... oh God, Josh... you’re gonna have to order me to say it.” “Say it,” Josh growled, the tone of his voice dropping by the minute, becoming a monster’s growl. Before Stu could comply: “SAY IT NOW...TELL ME!!!!!!!!” “It’s... it’s....aw shit...” It was as if Stu were losing his grip on reality, his world beginning to soften and swirl before his eyes. “SAY IT, RUNT! Say it.... little...MAN!!!!!!” Impatience further fueling his desire to grow further, Josh grabbed hold of Stu around the back of his neck and forced his head downward, nearer to the readout on the scale. His strength continued to increase by incredible factors. Instinctively Stu tried to resist. But Josh was now too strong. “Tell me how huge I am,” Josh ordered, a little softer in tone, now. Tears began to sting Stu’s eyes. He tried his best to focus on the liquid crystal display, but Josh’s body cast a massively voluminous shadow, darkening everything below his pec-line, including the dying scales. “It says...gasp...er... first number is a 1.” Stu’s heartbeat was pounding in his brain now, making it difficult to form anything coherent. He was in danger of passing out, something that had never happened to him before. With hundreds of pounds a minute causing Josh’s body to gain ever-increasing mass, the numbers on the readout continued to change, like a digital countdown, only one that counted up rather than down. “TELLL MEEEEEE!!!!!!!!” Anger and impatience surged through Josh. He flexed hard, massively so, and his dick began to fill out. The first plate began to buckle as tremendous pressure from its center worried and heated the iron. The plate began to soften and warp from the inside out. The second plate wouldn’t last either. “YOU FUCKING RUNT.... TELL ME, TINY MAN!!!!!” “Suh...second number is a 3, I think. Oh God... no wait... it’s... a 6,” stammered Stu, fear now very much evident in his voice. “Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!” Still growing in size and strength, Josh pushed Stu’s head even closer to the scale. Stu could no longer resist his immense power. “READ IT... PROPERLY!!!!!!!!!” “Which nu...number... would you like it to be, Master?” Stu would forever wonder why he asked Josh this question at this time. It served only to anger him further by prolonging Stu’s carrying out of Josh’s demand. A streak of pure white suddenly washed through Stu’s hair, just above his right temple. “Bigger than you,” Josh hissed, trying to keep his rage from becoming uncontrollable. He should have been terrified at the changes happening to his body, but he was too far into the process now, and it warped whatever terror he might have had... molding it into an elevated sense of triumph, coupled with an ever-increasing desire to get way huger than he was at this moment. Stu, out of desperation to make it through this alive, forced his eyes to sharpen their focus. With the last two digits of the scale still ticking ever upward, he could now see that the first two numbers were a 1 and a 6. Josh was pleased when he heard this, but still not satisfied. “1630 lbs., Master. No wait... 1658... 1677... 1701lbs... gasp... you’re WAY bigger than me now.” “Way bigger...maybe... but not way... HUGER,” Josh interjected. “Master, I don’t know enough about what’s happening to you to make this stop.” Stu banged against the front of the desk as he stepped backwards to give Josh more room to grow. He could see his massively erect, ever-expanding dick growing darker and darker in color, and the gonads beneath swelling to the size of watermelons. “You need to expend your man-juice before you explode. And I must insist that I take it all in... to the very last drop. I am in your power completely now, Master, and must do as you command.” Feverish, Stu continued to lose his grip on reality, although he relinquished himself of all fear. “Oh yeah, man. Suck this freaky cock,” growled Josh, and in a mighty explosion of effort, caused the plates around his dick to fly apart in smoking fragments as the pressure from his thickening and lengthening super-dick annihilated them completely. “Heh... heh... heh, I know you want it, you little dwarf.” Josh was now the strongest being on the face of the Earth and roughly guided Stu’s head inwards. Stu was done with trying to resist at this point; there was simply no way that he could. “I... I can’t imagine how you will fare on the weight machines, Master. There may not be a machine in existence that shall satisfy your workout needs. But you completely own me now, and I will always try to please you.” Sycophantic for the first time in his life, Stu had been broken in by Josh, and it had required little effort on Josh’s part. That said, he closed his hungry lips around the head of Josh’s monstrous dick just in time for Josh to erupt into him with a vigor he’d never felt before. “Grrrrrrr.... so good.... so fucking strong,” Josh snarled, throwing his head back to enjoy the convulsion of ecstasy that now rewarded his dominance. “Yessssssssssssssssss!!!!!!” Stu gagged reflexively, trying his hardest not to spill a single drop. As Josh came and came - as hot cum blasted through him and out of him - so his growth began to level off. He quickly became aware of this, and soon flew into his biggest rage ever. He roared the place down as he continued to pump Stu full of his cream. Unbeknownst to them both, the scale screamed its last, sticking at 1876lbs. “No... I can’t be stopping now. I gotta get huge... fucking HUGE!!!!!” He flexed a show of maximum hugeness, a double biceps pose, his guns travelling upwards and upwards, peaking hugely and exceeding the height of his balled fists. “Buh-but... gulp... you need to... gulp... stop now.... gulp,” Stu managed to communicate between mouthfuls. “No... I need more size... more weight... more superior muscle.” Josh emptied the last of his cream into Stu, who had been able to take it all in, his abs now slightly pushed outwards from his stomach’s increase in volume. “But there is no more, Master. Your growth has slowed almost to a halt.” Hearing this drove Josh almost insane. He flew into an uncontrollable frenzy, lashing out at the very walls and pounding them with unparalleled force. No longer concerned about anything but his size and power, certainly not his immediate surroundings, Josh took the room apart, knocking out walls even as his head pushed through the ceiling and into the room above, which happened to be the ladies' changing rooms. Luckily Josh and Stu were the only people at the gym at this time - as well as Lou who worked at the desk - otherwise a lot of people could have gotten hurt. “You must be over ten feet tall,” cried Stu, his panic beginning to rise. “Bigger.... I have to be bigger... fuck yeah!!!!!” Stu Hardwick had become like a bug to Josh, now, although this played out mostly in his head. He’d be lucky himself to have passed eight feet in height and 1500 lbs., but Josh was a great deal larger than he was. Until... Stu experienced a sudden, rapid spurt of muscle-growth, more than likely a side-effect from swallowing so much of Josh’s dynamic super-jizz. “Omigod, this is fantastic. I’m fucking growing again, Master. I’m growing fucking huge....HUUUUGE!!!!!” As Josh’s frenzy became more and more uncontrollable, the thought of his servant catching up to him in height, weight and overall size, made him rage further. “Never!!!!! I will be the hugest. I will get huger...HUGER........HUUUUGER!!!!!” And Josh smashed the fuck out of the gym, a human wrecking-ball without mercy. Down below at the reception, Lou managed to make it out with his life, throwing himself into the parking lot, just as Burt’s Muscle Shop came down in a tumult of hurled debris and so much dust and rubble. Out on the street people panicked and screamed, fearing a terrorist attack. Emergency services were soon alerted, creating a hubbub of interest and activity around muscle-growth ground zero. Josh had surpassed 12 feet in height and his weight could not be gauged at this stage, although it was reasonable to assume it had broken the one-ton mark. Shrugging out of the collapsed building, dusting massive chunks of rubble off his parts as though they were mere dust motes, the monster bodybuilder loped out onto the street and caused an even greater panic. “What’re y’all lookin’ at, you fucking little bugs?” People Josh should have respected were now insignificant to him. A plain-clothes police officer, eating a taco from a street vendor, instinctively reached for his sidearm upon sight of the muscle freak bearing down on him and cracked out two shots. The rounds glanced harmlessly off Josh’s powerful, impenetrable hide, and the ricochet sent one of them into the arm of an innocent bystander. The teenage girl collapsed with a scream. “Shit,” cried Josh, suddenly struck by the severity of the events he had caused. “Duh-don’t move. You’re under arrest, buddy... whatever the fuck you are,” the cop stammered. Then: “Josh? Josh O’ Neill. Fuh-fuck... my wife used to babysit for you when you were little,” the cop realized. This came as a further reality check for Josh. “I didn’t do a thing,” Josh cried, his voice booming, “It was your gun that shot her. I’m not taking the rap for this.” Josh was panicking now, realizing that although his growth had slowed, he was still getting bigger and more powerful. Suddenly he wanted to be normal again. Perhaps the effects of the injection giving him a lust for size and power was finally losing its grip. “She’ll be okay. I have paramedic training,” said a man who was gingerly tending to the girl’s wound. An old lady fainted when she stepped out of a shop and came face to face with the biggest male genitalia she’d ever seen. “You need to get out of here, Josh, before others get hurt,” the cop, whose name was Hal Wiazowski, urged the giant, once a little baby in the arms of his then-girlfriend. As wailing sirens drew ever closer, attracting various intrusive and specialist media, Josh, his strength pretty much untried in many areas, leapt into the air, soaring high above the rooftops, Hulk-fashion. He had no destination in mind. He couldn’t go home - he was simply too big to fit in the house. He was 12 feet tall, a ton in weight, and had the biggest muscles of any living creature. He could have the world in his palm, if he chose to, but instead he leapt to the hills snaking upwards from the basin in which Edmonton existed, knowing, sensing, that Stu would find him. They had become bonded in a sense, each one the lodestone of the other. “He’d begun to grow again, too, before I completely lost it,” said Josh, when he reached the seclusion of the forest. But would the trees hide him for long? The police would have helicopters out searching for him soon. He had become a fugitive. He found the cottage after about an hour of searching for nothing in particular. It was abandoned, but he knew it belonged to a famous writer, who used it on and off as a way of escaping the media. Josh broke in, finding he had to get down on his hands and knees to force his way through the double front doors. His huge frame weakened the cottage’s entrance, and when he got inside, he felt like Alice, in the part where she grows huge inside the house and cannot leave. “What have I become?” He curled into a ball and tried to get comfortable, wishing for all of this to go away. He eventually fell asleep, but his slumber was disturbed with powerful, disturbing images of gigantism gone horridly awry, of Josh growing to even more insane proportions. Epilogue: Josh awakened to find the cottage shaking around him. But it didn’t feel like it was coming apart, rather moving. But how can a cottage move’ His answer came when the ceiling above, in fact the entire roof, was peeled off and removed, revealing the blue sky of a new day. Josh squinted against the sunlight streaming down on him. But then, the light was blocked off when a huge, immense face appeared over the cottage and peered in, smiling pleasantly. It was Stu. He was carrying the cottage with Josh in it. And... fuck... he was gigantic. “Good morning, sweetie. Did you sleep well?” He seemed genuinely pleased to see Josh. Josh was confused and totally overwhelmed by what had occurred. “Stu... but how?” “You were the catalyst I hoped you would be. You see, I wasn’t entirely truthful with you, back at the gym. Turns out, I’m not Chuck Mathers’ rival. I’m his life-partner. We’re very much in love, have been since puberty. We fell out of friendship for a time, mostly to do with the formula, because I reacted better to it than he did. He used the Boner Club as a smokescreen for his experiments. We ascertained that one of the things that really makes the serum react to its greatest effect is desire. Simple as that. I got huge from it, but then my gains reached their ceiling. My desire to be huge came from a life-long dream, which the serum couldn’t entirely exploit in order to have me grow even further. But your desire came mostly after you got the serum, altering your brain chemistry sufficiently to achieve greater results. Once you had broken the 200lb deadlock I’d created in the formula, I knew that your chemistry was the key to ultimate growth. You succeeded where all the Boner Club members have yet to succeed. The role-playing between us was great and seemed to bolster the effects of the serum in you. You grew to 12 feet and about a ton in weight, which is fantastic. But you passed this alteration to me when I ingested your cum. Now my body is remaking the serum, perfecting it. As you can see... the effects are incredible. I’m 25 feet tall and I weigh about 15,000 lbs.” Stu paused, giving Josh time to digest what he was hearing. “I’m overwhelmed. I’m just a gnat to you. But... how did you get away from the ruckus back at the gym? The cops should have been all over you.” Josh would have to work hard to get the look of total incredulity off his face. “Thankfully the Mayor took care of all of that. He completely supports our research into the growth serum, considering it could be a cure for several debilitating diseases. His office invented a fake chemical spill that made people hallucinate. That’s what the news will say. It’s being tied to an underground explosion which levelled the gym. Whole area is cordoned off so no one can get near it. We’ll be yesterday’s news in no time.” “Where are we going now?” Things were starting to make sense to Josh. Maybe all of this would work out for the best. “To the Boner Club. The mayor has given us use of an abandoned military training center in the mountains. Tim and Clay are there already. Once we further our research and run extensive tests of your new physiology, we should be able to replicate the effects of the serum in you and me. The others can’t wait to be as big as us.” “As big as you, you mean,” Josh said, now chuckling with relief. “Yeah, I guess I am the hugest man alive again. But you had your moment in the limelight, too. I was genuinely worried that you would be unstoppable. But as you can see, after you left me at the gym, buried under tons of rubble, I grew like wildfire, easily surpassing you by many times. But who knows, Josh, you may grow to be as big as me in time,” boasted Stu, and suddenly it became even darker in the cottage, when the most massive bicep in all of creation peaked above the exposed walls of the roofless cottage. It was about fifteen feet in circumference, as hard as titanium, and the engorged veins across its brute-mass were thicker than Josh’s wrists. Josh couldn’t hide his boner. Stu smiled, blew Josh a kiss and then continued carrying the cottage high into the mountains, where they would all be left alone to grow... and grow... The End.
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