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  1. Bigrowinggod

    Man up runt

    Im still working on my other story wanted to try somthing a little different. first person but with mutliple perspectives Chapter 1 Steve pov "I just dont get whats wrong with him his younger brother owns a sucsesful startup and his sister is on the road to be governor in a few years" i say slamming down another drink "like how is the oldest such a screwup hes supposed to be an example for them but all he does is play video games for money like man up your 23" . "Dosnt he pay most of your bills at this point though" one of my drunk friends taunts before downing another shot "only cause i let him and it dosnt matter anyways he needs a real job not some hobby he can make money off of" "Well if you want him to man up i may have somthing my job has had me researching male enhancement might push him towards the right path only thing is i cant say its 100% safe yet due to lack of test subjects"says jim the only person in stem in the building and a drinking buddy Maybe it was becuase i was drunk but i took the offer even with my closest friend clark telling me it was shameful to let my son be used as a test subject i didnt care my wimp of a son would finally man up a bit. Raymond pov "I get that im not as sucsesful as jannet or zack but im doing well for myself you know" eric my fwb having listened this rant many times before rolls his eyes "dude normally im fine listening to your rants but i came here cuase im horny dude now shut that mouth and fuck me" before kissing me to shut me up "Damn guess your really are addicted to this huh" i say pulling out my 8 inches "finally the real reason im here" eric jokes as he strips revealing his toned body lays on my bed his ass in the air. I grin seeing he is already ready i thrust into him. I keep a steady rythm going until i hear dad stumble into the house i start moving alot faster making sure he can hear erics moans as he walks by. Steve pov "Fuck my sons not only a faluire but a slut too" i say bitterly to myself "well thats going to change" i mumble to myself as i put the case jim gave me under the bed grinning as i remember what he said "Hes going to be a real man by the end of the week"
  2. Buenas, para los que no le conocen, ya llevo un rato en esta comunidad, trate de publicar antes pero no podía seguir con esa historia, pero quería contar más, dejaré aparte la primera historia que hice, quizás después de la retome, quizás no . Otra cosa que aclarar es que, está historia va a tomar en cuenta que quieren que pase en el siguiente capítulo, elegirán alguna de lss ideas que propongan y también pueden comentar algunas que les gustaría ver. Está historia está totalmente en español, si alguien quiere traducirla puede hacerlo. Capítulo 1 tesoros del ayer. Mi nombre es Michel, tengo 19 años, soy un estudiante universitario de intercambio del otro lado del país, vivo en un departamento con mi roomy Carl, ambos vamos a la misma universidad pero diferentes carreras, el va a medicina y yo voy a nutricionista, amo los deportes y el cuidado del cuerpo, aunque no es que haya logrado destacar del todo en alguno, más bien era de la gestión de tiempos y estrategias, así que quería llegar a ser entrenador, ¿Cuál deporte? Uno de boxeo, mi abuelo era antes un luchador, y en casa siempre había recortes de periódico y algunos trofeos de su carrera como luchador, una parte de mi quería llegar a ser como él, yo estando en el ring pero mi madre nunca me lo perdonaría, aunque eso nunca me impidió intentarlo alguna que otra vez a escondidas. Cuándo me da tiempo la universidad, voy al gimnasio de mi localidad, uno de los más viejos y reconocidos de la ciudad, Empire of steel (el imperio de acero). Muchas leyendas se forjaron ahí dentro, o eso dice su folleto de entrada, la verdad es que el lugar se siente viejo, atrapado en la década de los años 90 pero está en buenas condiciones. No llevo tanto en el gym, apenas voy para mí segundo mes aquí, así que no es que tenga la mejor condición, soy peso ligero aún, pero al menos puedo presumir que tengo el estómago marcado. Mis estadísticas hijo: Altura: 1,75 m (5,7 pies) Peso: 70 kg (154 libras) Masa corporal grasa: 10% Tez: delgada No era nada sorprendente, mi metabolismo es muy rápido así que me cuesta subir peso, aunque estoy aprendiendo a como subirlo con mis clases, quiero estar totalmente seguro en lo que estoy haciendo antes de meterme a una dieta y arruinar mi progreso sin querer. E tratado de hacer que Carl se una al gym, no para que se vea espectacular sino que se cuide, él es un genio pero con malos hábitos y lo sabe, es un poco más alto que yo y aunque no come mucha comida chatarra es muy sedentario así que tiene grasa acumulada. Pero aún así si tengo a alguien que me acompañe en el gym, es mi guía aquí desde que me uní, David, o como es conocido, el joven Hércules, un tipo bastante guapo, de buena mandíbula con barba corta, unos hermosos ojos verdes y su cabello castaño en punta, tiene mi misma edad pero es mucho más grande que yo, no solo con su altura de 1.85 m (6.1 ft) sino también de peso, él ya es semi pesado y cerca de llegar al pesado, con unos buenos 85 kilos (187 libras) de músculo, también quizás algo de grasa,no tiene los abdominales tan marcados pero no puedes discutir con sus brazos que parece que tiene una pelota debajo de su piel, venas gruesas que registran todo su brazo hasta los dedos de las manos, un gran pecho amplio el cual se nota que se depila seguido para que se aprecie las fibras musculares cuando levante la barra de 118 kilos (260 libras) su era lo más increíble que tiene, podría cargarme con facilidad si él lo quisiera, y hacer peso muerto conmigo; él también trabaja las piernas, siempre usando shorts cortos para mostrar sus piernas gruesas tan anchas y bastante bien marcadas que me recordaba a un tronco de un árbol mediano, fuerte y que solo crecerá para ser más grande e imponente, eso era lo que se esperaba de David, que llegó a ser un culturista de renombre pero él no está tan interesado,más bien lo atribuye más a algo genético para estar así que realmente esforzarse. Lo envidio y admiro en secreto. Pero basta de él, debo concentrarme en mi rutina la cuál era el pecho el día de hoy, estaba levantando unos 59 kg (130 lb) no era mucho pero era un progreso bastante bueno, antes y ni podía levantar la barra, si que estoy feliz por ello. Mientras iba terminando con algo de cardio en la máquina de correr, siempre me preguntaba, qué personas habrán recorrido estos pasillos, correr sobre estás máquinas, levantar los pesos más pesados, y llevar en alto el nombre del gimnasio que los llevaron hasta su máximo potencial ; claro que estaban colgadas las fotos de esas leyendas en el mural de la fama al entrar al gimnasio, pero a lo que me refiero es a sus historias, que tanto trabajo les tomó llegar hasta la cima. De cualquier modo estaba internet para ello y ya también era hora de irme,eran las 9 de la noche y tenía que dormir temprano para los exámenes de mañana, fui a las regaderas y estuve ahí un poco más de lo normal, tenía asuntos pendientes ahí abajo después de ver cuerpos tan trabajados casi toda la tarde, cuerpos esculpidos en mármol por Miguel Ángel, un arte viviente creciente y con lo mejor de todo, que se pueda tocar y llevar a casa. Una vez liberado de ese deseo, salí y me vestí con el cambio de mi casillero número 22, podría decir que ésto era de lo más antiguo del local, los casilleros, estaban ya bastante desgastados, les faltaban algo de pintura y algunas partes estaban oxidadas , varios clientes se quejaron y quisieron cambiarlos pero el antiguo dueño siempre tenía excusas para no mover ni un dedo por ello.tenía asuntos ahí abajo después de ver cuerpos tan trabajados casi toda la tarde cuerpos, esculpidos en mármol por Miguel Ángel, un arte viviente creciente y con lo mejor de todo, que se puede tocar y llevar a casa. Una vez liberado de ese deseo, salí y me vestí con el cambio de mi casillero número 22, podría decir que ésto era de lo más antiguo del local, los casilleros, estaban ya bastante desgastados, les faltaban algo de pintura y algunas partes estaban oxidadas , varios clientes se quejaron y quisieron cambiarlos pero el antiguo dueño siempre tenía excusas para no mover ni un dedo por ello. tenía asuntos ahí abajo después de ver cuerpos tan trabajados casi toda la tarde cuerpos, esculpidos en mármol por Miguel Ángel, un arte viviente creciente y con lo mejor de todo, que se puede tocar y llevar a casa.Una vez liberado de ese deseo, salí y me vestí con el cambio de mi casillero número 22, podría decir que ésto era de lo más antiguo del local, los casilleros, estaban ya bastante desgastados, les faltaban algo de pintura y algunas partes estaban oxidadas , varios clientes se quejaron y quisieron cambiarlos pero el antiguo dueño siempre tenía excusas para no mover ni un dedo por ello. — ¡Oye, Michel! ¿Qué haces aquí tan tarde todavía? — Dijo David semi desnudo, apenas con una toalla en la cintura y acercándose a mí, había olvidado que su casillero está cerca del mío, el número 47. — Oh… hola, David, yo sólo… quería esforzarme más este día, ya sabes, poder conocer mis límites y expandirlos, como tú siempre dices. — le contesté con algo de vergüenza en el tono aunque seguía teniendome como si no me importara. — Pero bueno, mira que tenemos aquí, ¡un futuro luchador que quiere llegar lejos! Eso campeón, da tu mejor esfuerzo. — me toma del cuello con su brazo para poder despeinar mi cabello aún mojado. Él siempre es así, bastante amigable, activo y que no conoce el espacio personal, aunque no me importaba mucho estar tan cerca de él. — ¡Oye, basta! Ya me había peinado. —me quejé aunque riendo un poco, disfrutó realmente de su compañía, como el hermano mayor que nunca tuve. — Solo me alegra que estés dando lo mejor de ti mismo. Recuerdo que cuando llegaste eras un insecto palo andante, ahora ya se puede ver carne debajo de esa piel. — Me suelta y prosigue con lo suyo, abriendo su casillero y comenzando con su desodorante de menta y romero, típico de él, casi que ya son olores característicos de David. Mientras tanto voy dando unos tacos de ojo de vez en cuando, para ver cómo es que luchar para ponerse su playera blanca intencionalmente de una talla más pequeña de la que debería de llevar. — Oye, ¿quieres que te ayude? Parece que ahora sí vas a tener que cambiar tu armario por unas tallas más grandes. — Naaa, yo puedo, quiero llegar al punto dónde se desgarre con solo hacer flexiones, quizás una semana más y no tendré cambio para salir del gimnasio decentemente. Me sonrojé con el pensamiento de solo imaginar esa escena de verlo aún más grande y notar como su ropa se va desgarrando frente a mí. Por suerte él parecía tener prisa, se vistió rápido y se despidió de mí a su manera, un choque de puños y un abrazo fuerte para presumir fuerza, aunque… solo conmigo hace eso. Ya casi terminaba con mis cosas, solo faltaba luchar con el casillero para que cerrase, de que no te iban a poder robar nada podía casi confirmar eso, algunass estaban ya oxidadas o algunas llaves perdidas, ese era el caso incluso del casillero de al lado , el casillero 23. Ese casillero no se a abierto en años, según las leyendas y rumores del gym, le pertenecía a un culturista de principios de los 2000, Amari Stone, un culturista que estuvo a punto de ganar el Mr Olympia dos veces , y en las dos quedando en segundo lugar, era un hombre con casi el doble de ancho de una persona, pesando el triple y aunque no era tan alto, definitivamente tampoco era bajo, medía 1,82 m (6 ft). Su carrera parecía que iba por gran camino, pero a sus 37 años tuvo problemas cardíacos por un soplo en el corazón no diagnosticado.Y murio a sus 38, Iba saliendo del local, pasando por el muro de la fama, de los que llegaron a llevar en grande el nombre del gym, y ahí estaba la foto del legendario Amari Stone, compitiendo en el Mr Olympia del 2002. Me acerqué para verlo mejor en la foto, aunque no sabía bien sus estadísticas, diría que fácilmente pesaba 130 kg (287 lb) estaba claramente definida, sus músculos eran grandes si, pero en buena proporción, aunque a él siempre le gustaba resaltar pecho y brazos, además de sus piernas . Muy parecido a David… en ese sentido, quizás si él se interesará llegaría tan lejos como Amari. Toque un poco la foto, recordando los dedos por el cuerpo de Amari, imaginando cómo se sentiría un cuerpo así de trabajado. Y cuando ya iba a irme, que escucho que algo se cae y se rompe, temía lo peor, me giré y ahí en el suelo estaba el marco de fotos roto. Trate de rápido recoger los fragmentos de vidrio y la foto antes de que viniera el hijo del dueño, aunque no era severo como su padre, tampoco es que me llevara muy bien con él, era un idiota que abusaba de esteroides y acosaba algunas chicas, por suerte ahora mismo quizás y está en privado con una en el baño.Así que solo iba a poner la foto en el escritorio y tirar el marco, pero entre los trozos de vidrio y la foto, estaba un pedazo de metal que no correspondía con el marco de fotos, lo tome con cuidado y al levantarlo ví que era una llave con el número 23 en ella, no lo pensé mucho, ------------------------------------- ¿Qué les gustaría que haya en el casillero número 23? -Esteroides especiales. -Algo para pedir deseos. -Algo para robar músculos. -Ropa usada. Los leo quiero que sea una historia larga y con la participación de la gente.
  3. alexdog

    My New Old Dad (Parts 1&2)

    After my mom passed away, I had been raised in foster care. I didn’t remember my father too much because he was a drug addict, young, and didn’t support us at all. When my mother passed, my father decided he was unfit to take care of me and put me in foster care. I was 7 or 8 then. On my 18th birthday, the foster home threw me a huge party. Usually we have to leave the home when we turn 18, but I have built up a great relationship with my foster family, and they allowed me to stay for a couple more weeks until I got situated. When the crowd cleared, they pulled me into the dining room “Hey Bryan, we have a little surprise for you.” Already I was a little apprehensive because I wasn’t expecting a huge gift. They didn’t have much money. “What is it?” “Well, we know we said you could stay here as long as you like, but your father actually contacted us and he would like to take you home with him.” I was already furious. I don’t remember my father much, but I resented him for what he did to me. Having a dead beat dad may have been better than having no father at all. “I don’t want to see him!” I yelled. “He’s changed.” my foster mother said “I’d say” my foster dad smirked. “Jim stop. Bryan, he says he’s sorry and wants to make it up to you. Actually he’s in the living room now waiting for you. He asked us to soften the blow by telling you this beforehand” They could tell I was already upset, but I knew I am asking a lot by staying in the home, so I went down with them to the living room. When I reached the entry way, my jaw dropped. There was my dad, and he was enormous. He was still tall like I remember, but he was nowhere near the skinny drugged out dead beat I recalled. My dad had muscle on top of muscle. Huge boulder shoulder capped a wide frame. Arms that peaked, pushing his shirt sleeve to the max. Thick cords of veins pushing through the fabric. I traced his forearms with my eyes and then back up again to his shelf pecs that bunched together with each exhale. I could see 8 perfectly defined abs THROUGH his shirt tapering to a tiny waist that then exploded outwards as his quads completed the display. “Hey son” he said sheepishly “Hhhhhhey dad” He walked over to me and put his mammoth arms around me in a hug. “I’m so sorry for not being there for you. I wasn’t ready to be a father that you deserved, but that’s all going to change now. I am here for you for whatever you need. He smiled as he saw a tear form in my eyes. We drove to his house where he set up a room for me in the basement. It wasn’t fully done as there were still some old oil drums and tools that were strewn about the place. “I know it isn’t much, but I will fix it up for you in no time.” I couldn’t help myself “Dad, you are so big!” He gave me a smile then walked over to me and got down on one knee. He grabbed my hand then flexed his bicep right in front of me. A huge mountain formed, snaked in thick veins that spiraled all the way up to his manly hands. He then guided my hand over the peak, until I squeezed, unable to make a dent. “No son, I am fucking massive.” My bulge started to grow right there in front of him. I was so embarrassed as my dad looked down and smiled. “Don’t worry. You see son, I know I haven’t been a good father to you, but that’s all going to change. Over the last couple years, I have been watching you without you knowing. I know what you like, what you don’t like. I know you love muscle from the magazines I saw in your room when I broke into the foster house a couple years ago. I have honed myself to be everything you’ve ever dreamed about. I swallowed hard as he continued. “I also know that you are gay son. I know that you have always liked men, especially men with muscle. And I know that you have been bullied for it. You will find someone that accepts you for who you are, but until then, you can feast your eyes on me whenever you want.” He then looked at his bicep and flexed hard bringing the sleeve of the to almost to the breaking point. He then turned his wrist inwards as we heard a loud TEAR exposing the shredded split peak. He then brought his arm to his mouth and started licking and sucking it putting his hand behind his head as he moaned. He then looked me again and smiled. “Bryan, I will be everything you ever wanted in a dad and more. Nothing is off limits…you ask and you shall receive.” ———————————————— I could barely sleep. I couldn’t believe what happened. My dad, who I haven’t seen in years, just shows up to take care of me. AND…he’s a flawless man of my dreams. Fuck, the way he slobbered over that bicep made my dick so hard. It’s 9AM and I can already hear him in the kitchen. I had to run down. He was there in a skin tight t-shirt, cut off shorts already smelling fresh and clean at the table. “Breakfast is served” he said. The table looked like a banquet. I finished eating as I continued to eye fuck my dad. “So tell me about Dylan” he said. “Dylan? How could you know about Dylan?” Dylan was an asshole. Wrestling jock at my school that found me checking out dudes in a muscle magazine and hasn’t let me forget it since. He makes fun of me every chance he gets for being gay. I could see my dad smile as I recalled the horror. At that moment, we heard the doorbell ring. “I hope you don’t mind” my dad said with a little chuckle. My dad went in the other room, and I heard him open the door. “Dylan! Thanks for coming over to help me clean out the basement.” “No problem sir, although it doesn’t look like you need much help.” He said “Nonsense” as they walked down to the basement. I could still hear them talking. “Looks like you got a body on you too. Let me see them abs!” I stepped down a couple steps into the basement to peer through the railing at the scene. Dylan lifted his shirt to my dad. “Haha cute.” My dad said. “Hey Bryan! Get down here.!” I started to walk down and Dylan saw me and gave me a look. “Hey what’s going on here!” He said as he dropped his shirt down. “Oh, I see you two know each other. No bother. Hey Bryan, Dylan here thinks he has some abs. Which do you think are better?” He lifts up the front of Dylan’s shirt to show his abs again. “This pathetic flat six pack? Or this?” He said as he slowly lifted up the front of his shirt exposing deep row after row of sculpted ab bricks. He then exhaled deeply carving out 8 flawless slabs shrinking to an almost nonexistent waist. He pinches his thin skin as he turned to Dylan and said, “Shredded” I then said under my breath, “oh fuck” My dad laughed a little “that’s what I thought. You see Dylan, my boy here says you have been nagging him for being gay. Well, you are going to show him you are a much bigger cock sucker than he is.” He then grabbed Dylan’s shoulder and brought his face right up to his and commanded “Blow me.” “Wwwwhat? Nnnnno” Dylan said shaking. “Dylan, it wasn’t a choice.” My dad then walked up to the oil drum on the ground and wrapped his arms around it, hoisting it up so his back was to us. Then slowly I could see the muscles in his shoulders and back ripple as the shirt began to tear down his lats exposing his thick back. Cords of veins across paper thin skin as we started to hear metal SCREAMING. Then a loud crash as the metal drum fell to the ground, caved in the middle. My dad turned around and pulled his tattered clothes off of him. His body more ripped and defined than any bodybuilder on stage. My dad walked to the couch and sat down telling me to sit next to him. I did as he said as he put his arm around my shoulders and tussled my hair. He looked down and saw my bulge and said “I see you got some of my genes in the size department.” He paused a little and repeated “Some” He reached down to his shorts and tore off the elastic as well as his jock and out flopped the most massive soft dick I have ever seen. Even soft, it was bigger than mine and covered in veins both thick and small. It hung down like a thick pendulum. He looked back at Dylan. “See that oil drum? The same thing is going to happen to your chest unless you blow the FUCK out of this cock” Dylan started shaking as he ran over between my dad’s legs and started to engulf his dick. My dad looked at me as he moaned, biting his lip. He put his hand on the back of Dylans head and said to me “listen to his jaw stretch Bryan” as his dick expanded his jaw. Dylan tried to pull away but my dad’s hand was too strong. “Stream it son.” I reached into Dylan’s pocket and grabbed his phone and opened Facebook to live stream it on his page. My dad worked his cock into Dylan’s mouth usied his head to move him back and forth. My dad played a part in the background saying things like “yeah that’s it” and “you’re so good to daddy” and then it happened… My dad ROARED as he unleashed a torrent of cum down Dylan’s throat . Orgasming for like 30 seconds pump after pump until it started coming out his nose and the sides of his mouth until finally my dad said “Aww you did so much better than last time.” I cut the feed and then my dad pulled out with a wet THWOP…cum still leaking out of his dick like a faucet until a puddle formed. Dylan coughed up cum that got into his lungs, gasping for breath, My dad reached down and picked up Dylan by the collar and lifted him up, feet dangling. “If I ever hear you tease my boy again, this will be like a walk in the park. Now get the FUCK out. Dylan grabbed his things and ran out faster than I have ever seen him move. My dad sat next to me and puts his arm around me. “I don’t think he will be making fun of you anytime soon Bryan.” I reached my arms around my dad and hugged him tightly. I could actually feel him smile
  4. bbmikenj

    Bane visits the Batcave

    Bane found the entrance to the Batcave. It wasn't hard for him. He was an expert at tracking, and it was easy for him to spot the fake shrubbery that hid the gate that led to the entrance. He knew there would be security cameras, so he bolted up to the entrance, his huge quads moving him faster than the fastest Olympic runner. He got to the big metal doorway and slammed it with his big fists, denting it in enough to get a handhold. Then he peeled open the entrance with his bare hands. He twisted the steel back on itself until the opening was big enough for him to step through. He stood in front of the Batmobile as Batman came into the cave to see why the alarms were going off. "Bane!" he said, as he spotted the behemoth intruder. "How???" Batman stammered as he stared at the doorway. "With these," said Bane, raising his huge arms into a double bi shot. The peaks rose up and up, snaked with veins, jacked with power, and hard as granite. "But that door is made of galvanized steel reinforced with titanium rods. You can't be that strong!" "No?" said Bane. Then he took his raised fists and slammed them into the hood of the Batmobile with such force that the hood crumpled in, and all four tires blew up. Batman jumped back from the sound of it. Then Bane ripped the hood off the car, and tossed it out through the doorway opening. He leaned toward the car, reached in and grabbed the engine block, then ripped it out, raising it over his head. He shook it with his powerful arms, then squeezed in on it until it started to crumple. As oil began to spill out of the block, Bane tipped his head back, opened his mouth, and drank it down. Then he crushed to engine block down even more, until it was half its original size. He reared it back behind his head, then tossed it directly towards Batman, who ducked just in time, and the one ton twisted engine soared over him, and embedded itself into the rock wall of the cave. Bane grabbed the Batmobile with one hand and tipped the car onto its side, so that nothing now stood between him and Batman. He took of his mask and the tubing and laid them on the side of the car. Then he took of his vest, so that his torso was bare. Batman took another step back. He'd never seen Bane looking so densely thick and heavily muscled. Even his jaw line was more squared off and jutting with muscle. Bane rolled his huge chest slabs and took a step towards Batman. "Now you've got me all riled up," Bane said. "Where's your girlfriend Robin? I need to get laid." Bane grabbed his crotch and shifted his junk around. "He's not here," said Batman. But for a millisecond, his eyes darted over towards a side tunnel in the cave. "You're a terrible liar, Batshit," said Bane, and made his way towards the tunnel. Batman jumped in front of him. "You'll have to go thru me first, Bane." Bane smirked, and said, "That can be arrange." He grabbed one of the flattened tires on the Batmobile, and ripped it off, sending lug nuts flying like bullets thru the cave. Then he threw the tire at Batman like a frisbee. It hit Batman in the stomach, and sent him fly backwards, his feet off the ground. He slammed into a computer terminal, crushing it. Before he could stagger to his feet, Bane was standing over him. "Let me give you a hand," he said, reaching down. Before Batman realized his mistake, he reached up, and Bane grabbed his hand and yanked him up roughly. "Your grip strength gotten any better, Batpunk?" said Bane, not releasing Batman's gloved hand. Batman tried to pull away, but Bane's arm didn't budge. He began to squeeze. Even thru his special gloves, Batman could feel his bones start to break. He grabbed Bane's forearm with his free hand and tried to dig into it, but the forearm muscles were like steel cables. Bane continued to crush his hand. Batman swung his fist into Bane's jaw, but he only managed to break his knuckles on the hard bone and thick muscle of Bane's face. Bane squeezed harder still, and Batman's knees buckled. Bane stepped forward and forced Batman onto his back. "I'd forgotten how weak you are," Bane said, leaning over Batman and putting his thumb on Batman's collar bone. "I could snap this bone like a toothpick," said Bane. Instead, Bane yanks Batman back to his feet, only to clothesline the caped crusader across his chest, sending him down to the batcave floor and shattering his sternum. Batman gasped for breath as Bane bent over and shoved his big hand underneath Batman's head. He gripped Batman's caped head like a soccer ball, and lifted Batman back up. Bane flexed his free arm. "Kiss my 36 inch peak, punk," he commanded. He shoved Batman's face into the side of his mountainous arm. "Make love to it, you know you want to," Bane said. "So fuckin huge. So fuckin strong," he said, as he banged Batman's face into his massive, veiny arm over and over, until he crushed Batman's nose thru his mask. Then he held Batman airborne with one hand on the back of his head, and started squeezing harder, his huge fingers applying more pressure than a mechanical vice. Batman felt like his eyes were going to pop out, and his skull crush in. He flinched uselessly, and then his sight started to fade. "Bet that feels like the worst ice cream headache ever, huh Bruce," mocked Bane. Batman blacked out from the crushing skull grip, and hung there limply in Bane's grip. Bane dropped him to the floor like a microphone in a rap battle. "Pathetic," he muttered. Just then, from the side tunnel of the Batcave, Robin appeared. "Bane!!" he said, as he saw the massive bull of a man straddling the fallen Batman. Bane smiled, and crushed his fists into balls of destruction. His big knuckles cracked and whitened from the strength of his grip. "Hello, little birdie," he said. "Come to Daddy." Robin grabbed a cable that was hanging from the top of the cave, then he ran up along the side of the cave walls and launched himself into the air in a big arc, aiming right toward Bane. He picked up tremendous speed as he slammed feet first into Bane's huge barrel chest. Bane didn't budge an inch. Robin fell to the ground in agony, grabbing his ankles. He felt like he had slammed into a bank vault. "Aww, did the little bird boy hurt his little legs?" mocked Bane. He leaned over and grabbed Robin by his ankles, one in each thick superhuman hand. Then he lifted him off the ground. Robin hung there upside down. Bane squeezed his hands and felt the ankle bones crushing underneath his powerful grip. "Boy, your little bird bones are fragile as egg shells," he said, as Robin twisted in pain. Bane dropped him to the floor and looked down over him. "Bet you never felt pain like this before, have ya, boy?" Robin couldn't even respond, the pain was so overwhelming. "You want me to fix that pain, birdie?" asked Bane. That got Robin's attention. He'd do anything to stop the agony in his ankles. He nodded best as he could. Bane leaned over and grabbed Robin by the scruff of his neck and lifted him up. He pressed Robin's mouth onto his big nipple. "Suck on it, boy blunder," ordered Bane. At first, Robin resisted, pushing back on Bane's granite chest mounds, but then Bane tightened the grip he had on his neck, and Robin knew he had no choice. He started nursing on the thick nub of a muscle nip. He felt it swelling up inside his mouth, and it made him suck harder. "Oh yeh, that's it, baby boy," said Bane, pushing Robin's face harder into his huge chest. Robin felt Bane's nip swelling to the size of his thumb. "Harder." And Robin sucked and sucked. Then he tasted a thick oily substance oozing out of the thick nip. It tasted chemically, almost metallic, but good, and hot. It made him suck harder still. "That's it boy. You'll be feeling it soon, too." And as soon as Bane said that, Robin began to feel it. The pain in his ankles started to fade. His whole body relaxed. He sucked harder, and more serum flowed out of Bane's inch long nip. "Oh yeh. You getting a good dose of Venom now," said Bane. "Now do the other nip, balance these meat plugs out, boy," he said, transferring Robin's mouth to his other huge pec slab. And Robin sucked and sucked, hungry for it now, feeling more energized than he ever had. The second nip swelled and began to ooze, even as the first one continued to drip the viscous oil. But then Bane pulled him off the swollen nip with a loud pop. "That's enough for now, chicklet," he said. "Too much and you wouldn't be able to handle it." He put Robin down to the ground, then he flicked his pacifier-sized nips with his burly thumbs. "You did a good job of working these bad boys. I knew you'd be a good sucker." Robin expected his ankles to give out as he stood, but he had no pain whatsoever. He jumped up and down on them, amazed. Not only did they not hurt, but he felt liked he'd taken the most amazing pre-workout supplement ever. He was so charged up, he wanted to fly. "What happened?" "You got a nice shot of some miracle oil, little man. Not only have your ankle bones healed, they're probably ten times stronger than they were before. Same with the rest of your bones. And soon you're going to find out what else it will do for you." Robin was already feeling it. His body was heating up, like he had an intense fever, but it felt amazing. He could feel the green briefs of his outfit begin to tighten on him as his glutes swelled outward. He looked down and saw his bare quads and calves swelling out. They'd always been lean and fit, but now they were bulging with muscle the size of a light-heavyweight bodybuilder.. He could see leg veins starting to show thru his skin, and snake their way down to his calves, which looked to be over 19 inches now. And a thick stubble was starting to sprout out on his formerly hairless skin. "What's happening?" he said, and Bane replied, "Look in that mirror over there and see." Robin turned and looked, and saw that not only was he getting thicker and wider, but he was getting taller. He was sweating heavily, and it was soaking thru his outfit. Robin's abs had never really shown before, but now, he had a stack of bricks and mortar showing thru his red vest. He flexed his abs, and they popped out even more defined. "Holy washboards," he said in awe. "Flex those arms too, boy," said Bane, and Robin did as he was told, raising his arms into a double bi shot. The peaks rose up and up, and pushed back the short green sleeves of his shirt, which looked 3 sizes too small on him now and slid halfway up his stomach, exposing his brickwall gut. His arms peaked out at 21" of veiny sinew. "Holy Muscle Mass," he exclaimed. Bane chuckled behind him. Robin grabbed the collar of his outfit and ripped it down the middle, exposing his now thickly muscle torso that was shredded beyond the dreams of any pro bodybuilder. His slightest movement made the muscles ripple and striate. He tore the top of his outfit off and tossed it aside. He stared at himself in the mirror. He looked like a statue of hypermasculinity, with thick course hair beginning to cover his expanding chest, which grew bigger every time he flexed his pecs. His green trunks now fit him like the smallest of posers, and were barely containing his impressive new growth. "Fuckkkk," he said. "How big were you before?" said Bane, "About 5'10", 170lbs soaking wet? You're bigger than Batman now, boy. Bigger, stronger, faster. I'd say you're about 6'5", and 270lbs right now. You'll get a little bigger too, but it will stop before you hit 300lbs. If I'd let you keep feeding," he said, flicking his protruding rubber-hard nips," you'd have grown too much, and probably gone insane. The other thing you're going to be feeling is intense horniness. And I mean 'intense'. It's going to hit you like you took 1000 doses of Viagra. You're going to want to fuck the first thing you can grab. Just pin it down and rape it. You won't be able to control it, at least not at first. And since I'm going to trap you and Batman in here together, things should get interesting. Your seed will help him heal too, although he won't respond like you did, it won't be potent enough for that. His bones will heal, though, but not as well as yours, and he'll feel pain in them for the rest of his life." Bane made his way to one of the tunnels leading out of the Batcave. He ripped a huge boulder out of the wall and used it to block the exit. "Oh, and you're going to be jonesing for more of my nip oil, probably for the rest of your life too. You're going to want more and more and more, like an profound type of crack addiction. Who can blame you, really? Look at you. And maybe, someday I'll give it to you. But for now," said Bane, using his bare hands to rip solid rock from the cave wall and blocking another tunnel, "you'll have to make due." Then he made his way to the main entrance of the cave, and stepped outside. He bent the titanium and steel wall like used aluminum foil, but before he blocked the entrance, he looked at Robin, whose horniness was mounting. Robin was breathing like a bull, his nostrils flared, his massive new muscle body twitching with lust and shining with sweat, and as he looked around the cave, his eyes landed on Batman, who was beginning to come to and push himself up on all fours. Bane laughed, and as he sealed the cave, he said, "Have fun, Boy Wonder. Don't do anything I wouldn't do......"
  5. MuscleLoverMG

    The AntiHero

    This is my first story I've ever posted on here! Let me know what you think and what you think I could improve as I move forward with writing this! If you have an suggestions on where the story should go, don't be scared to leave those too! I'm still brainstorming where this might go! The AntiHero Chapter 1: Frankie no more... Frankie was just your ordinary lad. He wasn’t too muscular, not too athletic, and not at all coordinated. In fact the only thing he had going for him was his devilishly handsome face and his charming grin. Other than that Frankie was the definition of average at best. This was a big difference compared to Quinn, Frankie’s longtime rival who consistently one-upped everything Frankie tried to do. Quinn was a lad’s lad. He had the good looks, fit body, and boyish charm to get any girl swooning. He knew it too. Quinn exuded confidence and always walked around like his shit didn’t stink. He’d consistently take sexy shirtless selfies with a seductive grin for his Instagram and other socials. Day by day, Frankie could do nothing but watch his rival get all the attention and praise. Frankie was sick of living as the “average at best” kinda guy. But he didn’t know how to change it. For months he went to bed wishing every night that something would change. That he could become the better man. A real “man” among the “men”, if you know what I mean. Halloween was quickly approaching, and for once Frankie wished he could be the hunk at the costume party that was strutting around in a seductive getup. But alas, once again it would be Quinn who would most likely come dressed up as some sexy superhero, a spartan warrior, or a chippendale dancer. At least…. this is how it was supposed to be. But sometimes plans change and people change too. In fact, Frankie’s wishes may just be coming true after so many months of hope. Soon he’ll be this “man” among the men. And soon he’ll be the one strutting around the costume party in a sexy head turning getup. It was on Halloween morning when the mysterious package that would do all this arrived at Frankie’s door. Frankie was sitting and watching TV just like he does any other day, when the doorbell rang. He wasn’t expecting anyone or anything, so he was quite off-put when he opened the door to a package at his feet. He looked around for a few moments before picking up the box and bringing it inside. “Maybe it was dropped at the wrong address” Frankie thought. But alas, his name and address was on the box. Curiously, Frankie began slicing open the taped up edges with a box cutter. “I wonder what’s inside” he pondered under his breath. As he flipped open the cardboard lids, Frankie was not only taken back by what he saw, but also beginning to feel a pit of rage in his gut. “Fucking Quinn’s such an asshole” Frankie snarled through gritted teeth as he pulled out the contents. He held up what looked like a military vest and then threw it aside. His face became redder and redder as he went in for the second item in the box. He wrapped his hands around the leather straps and metallic clasps. He instantly knew what this was. “The prick thought it would be funny to get me a bane costume.” Knowing it would look awful on his slim frame, Frankie was infuriated and humiliated at the same time. There was no way he could go to the costume party now. “I bet Quinn is probably gonna wear the same costume too, just to show me up” Frankie internally sulked. He threw the mask aside, not noticing the note that was sitting at the bottom of the box. Hours passed as Frankie sat defeated, stuffing his face with junk food. The annual Halloween party was in just 45 minutes, so at this point Frankie couldn’t even think about getting another costume ready. He felt every negative emotion in the book. He was ashamed with his physical form, but also loathed the fact he was gonna miss the opportunity to attend this event. That’s when something strange happened. His phone began buzzing to a mysterious text from an unknown number. “Put the mask on Frankie, we will be one soon. Just be patient.” “What the fuck is this shit. Is he really texting me from a fake number now?” Frankie growled. “You know what fuck Quinn. I’m going to go to the party dressed as bane and be perfectly confident. That will show him.” Frankie stormed over to the box and grabbed the mask. He began to pull it over his head, and it immediately fit quite snugly around his jaw. As Frankie squeezed the mask over the back of his head, he felt a several slight stings, almost as if he was being pricked by several needles in the back of his skull. “Must just be my hair getting caught” he thought to himself. But Frankie was quite wrong. The second Frankie put the mask on, his fate was sealed and forever changed. Almost immediately, Frankie began to feel an enormous amount of pressure in the back of his head and temples. At first he thought he was going to pass out, but this sensation was quite different. Frankie felt buzzed, and quite energized. Without warning, the pain began shooting down his spine and then out towards his lats. As the pain wrapped itself around his rib cage, Frankie could feel a heat flooding his body. It went down each arm into the fingertips, through his legs, and even into his groin. “What the fuck is happening to me!” Frankie squealed in a high pitch scream of terror. He grabbed the back of the mask and attempt to pry it off his scalp, but it was just too tight. Even more, it felt like the back of the mask was latched inside his skin where the pinching feeling was felt. The pain was rapidly increasing and that’s when it began… Frankie heard a loud crack as an unbearable pain shot down his spine. He let out a blood curdling scream as his spine began stretching his frame taller. “No! Make it stop, please!” Frankie whimpered as he fell on his hands and knees to the floor. “I don’t want this anymore!” He slammed his hands into the floorboards as the unbearable pain shot to his lats and ribcage which began cracking and spreading wider apart. To Frankie’s surprise, his hit caused the wooden board to crack and splinter. “So fucking strong” Frankie moaned animalistically. There was an evil gleam in his eye for a second, but he quickly snapped out of it. “No! Did I just fucking do that.” He winced. “This isn’t me. I’m a gentle guy.” He sat on those words for a few seconds before beginning to snicker to himself. “I’m not gentle. I’m fucking powerful and dominant” he growled sadistically. As he said this, the pain moved into his chest and biceps. Interestingly, the pain wasn’t bothering Frankie as much. He actually liked how it was beginning to feel. Every second he was feeling more and more manly. More authoritative. More godly. Frankie snapped back into reality when he saw the veins in his forearms begin to plump. As they pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, they grew green in color and began to push against his tightening skin. Frankie watched in horror as his forearms and biceps grew thick and solid. A spider web of veins entangling around them. With his voice trembling, he whimpered “please no more!” He stood up and once again tried to rip the mask off. Despite his arms being much stronger, the mask still wouldn’t un-latch itself from the back of his skull. Frankie was beginning to feel angrier than ever. But with this anger came a feeling of power and an even greater desire for more power. He began puffing his chest out, giving his pecs room to expand into big, veiny globs full of muscle sinews. Frankie’s Black T-shirt was stretching to its limits. Any onlooker would have just assumed he was wearing an athletic compression shirt if they didn’t know it was once quite loose fitting on his frame. “Fuck this feels so good” Frankie growled while throwing his head back, letting his pecs and lats extend to their full size. At this moment, his shirt snapped open and slid off his arms. In one swift motion Frankie threw his fist at the wall, creating a crumbling crater in the cement and wood barrier. Frankie cackled and sneered a cocky grin. Frankie moved to a nearby mirror to see the god... - I mean “man” - he was turning into. Upon seeing his reflection the real Frankie suddenly came back. “No! This isn’t who I’m supposed to be. This is a monster. I’m not…” He stopped talking, transfixed on his expanding legs, which he now didn’t even notice were in a great deal of pain. In a deeper octave than just seconds ago he muttered “I AM a monster.” The hulking beast emphasized the word AM. As the last of the masks venom spread through his body, Frankie let out a guttural and baritone growl raising his biceps into a double bicep pose. “Fuck ya! I am a monster! I am fucking bane!” Bane felt an instant urge to use his strength… to break something. The first thing that came to mind was the couch his former self was sulking on all night. With a single hand he lifted the 900lb object over his head. “I’m so strong... So powerful. This feels fucking fantastic!” As he said this, Frankie… -I mean Bane - brought the couch down onto his knee, cracking it in two. He no longer feared the beast he was becoming. In fact inside little Frankie was beginning to lose himself to the power that he felt. He loved that he had become an inhumanly strong god among men. He loved that his muscles were absolutely bulging with striations and chiseled beyond belief. And most of all, he loved that he was going to show Quinn what a real “man” is supposed to be. Frankie grabbed the vest that was sitting in the box and tried to strap it over his shirtless torso, but there was no way it was going to fit. “Fuck it, I look better shirtless anyway” he snarled. Then he noticed the note sitting in the bottom of the box. He picked it up and read it aloud with his dense, baritone voice. “Frankie, I’ve chosen you to become the next King of our beings. Just put on the mask and you will be Bane. Attend the party as Bane and I will find you. Then we’ll merge and become strong enough to rule this world and force everyone to bow to our power! I know you want this Frankie. You always have, so just put on the mask.” The note was signed “Venom.” Bane’s bloodthirsty growl said it all. Deep down, the last bit of the innocent Frankie faded. “You’re right Venom. I was born to be a fucking god! I may have been Frankie, but from now on my worshipers will know me only as Bane!!!!” And with that… little Frankie was no more.
  6. mmvmgo2011

    Erotica

    EROTICA A story inspired by the (slightly modified) lyrics to the Madonna song from the album and SEX book versions. Shout out to @Wrestlejock646 who inspired the idea of using song lyrics as inspiration, even if he didn’t know it at the time. You can always “hit me with your rhythm stick,” mate, “I wanna take a ride on your disco stick.” ========== ~ ONE ~ I’ve never done anything like this before, but it was well past time. I was already bored with my life as it was, the COVID-19 pandemic just took that boredom to the Nth degree. I am apparently in an 'extremely high risk' category when it comes to COVID-19, or so my doctor tells me. Based on the delta strain, I had an approximately 25% chance of death unvaccinated, dropping to ‘only’ 11% for double dosed, 8% for triple dosed, and 1% for four doses (with no data yet on more than four doses). The omicron variant, and the BA.4 and BA.5 sub variants were much milder, so presumably the risk for me now is somewhere south of 1% (now that I’ve had four doses). With those kind of odds, and the delta strain running rampant throughout 2021, and most of 2020 still full of unknowns - how deadly was it really? - I spent over two years from March 2020 confined to my house, no visitors, no shopping, pretty much total isolation. Thank fuck for the Internet - not just for day to day essentials like groceries, which I had delivered, but for social contact. Don’t get me wrong, I am eternally grateful for the ability to video chat with friends and family, and the ability to mutually jerk off with someone on camera, but, let’s face it, it’s a poor substitute for sexy times with a real, live human being, touching, stroking, kissing, caressing, licking, sucking, penetrating… you know, all the good things, all the arousing things. So I hadn’t had sex, real with-an-actual-person sex in nearly two and a half years. I’ve already said I was bored with my life before the pandemic, I was also bored with my sex life. I’m attractive enough, I suppose. I’m 186cm (6’1”) tall, and weigh 78kg (172lbs). I have no idea what my body fat percentage is, but I have visible abs and like to keep in shape. I’m of Mediterranean stock, so I have dark features - deep brown eyes, dark brown hair, and an olive complexion. I hate shaving with a razor, so keep my beard trimmed to a constant state of stubble of varying lengths, depending on how long since the last trim. But my sex life was pretty vanilla. I mean, a flip fuck or two is as kinky as it ever got - insert the Neil deGrasse Tyson ‘we’ve got a badass over here’ meme, right. I’ve never had a threesome or group sex, never used toys, never even really gotten rough. I DID say, ‘pretty vanilla’. But recently, I’ve been craving more. NEEDING more. I wanted to be dominated, I wanted kink. Maybe not hardcore BDSM, but I wanted things to get a bit rough, a bit outside my vanilla comfort zone. I also wanted muscle, someone to take control, use his strength, his power to put me in my place. Use me and abuse me, overpower me. I’m getting hard just describing it, I could only imagine what it would be like in reality. I found an ‘escort’ that sounded perfect. If he lived up to his description, it was going to be money well spent, arousal guaranteed. I was slightly nervous, because he had no photos. Not just not showing his face. No photo, at all. The description claimed he didn’t like putting up his photo because it created certain expectations, if it didn’t scare off the potential client, and he didn’t want any preconceptions to ruin what should be organic discovery, mutual exploration and pushing of boundaries. It sounded HOT, exactly what I was looking for. But anyone can put up a profile saying anything. So I had no idea what he looked like but, as I sat in the hotel bar, nursing a drink nervously, he knew what I looked like, insisting on a picture showing my face and a shirtless pic showing my top half. “Excuse me, Robert?” A deep, resonant, mellifluous voice. A powerful voice, commanding; used to getting his way. I turned my face up towards the voice, which was behind and to my right. My mouth dried up and gaped, my heart skipped a few beats then started racing, my dick chubbed. “Y-“ My voice cracked, because of course it did. I cleared my throat. “Yes.” “My name is Dieter. I’ll be your master tonight.”
  7. ZFerrari

    The Hanazin Warrior academy

    I just saw this story on the old forums, and I thought it was really good so I'm just reposting it here. Shouts out to Oliver904 the original author. Sean's body ached all night, so he didn't get a good night's sleep. He did manage a few hours, but his blaring alarm clock told him it was time to get up for another horrid day of school. And his alarm clock actually blared, as for some reason, it seemed a hundred times louder. Sean was 18 years old, and a senior in high school. He was never a morning person, but today was different--for most parts at least. He still was groggy when he went to brush his teeth, his brain still unaware of everything, even as he glared at a strangly different reflection staring back at him (he thought he was still half asleep), but today was his birthday. It wasn't until he went to change out of his bed clothes that he noticed he wasn't wearing any. He shook his head and blinked his eyes to rid his morning handicaps, and almost immediatly passed out. Sean couldn't believe his eyes, literally, as he turned to look in the mirror next to him they were a different color. His once dark brown eyes were now blue. But his eyes weren't what flustered him. His hair had changed--from strait black to curly blond. And still, most of all, his body had changed. There wasn't the dark, sporadic hair growth he had despised since puberty, instead a light, fine blond covering had replaced it. His skin was the smoothest he had ever seen it, and most spectacular of all, his body--well, it just wasn't his body. His once almost concave chest was now like the chests of the swimmers he saw in the Olympics. He pushed his arms down to see the straitions in the center deepen into ripped muscle. He ran a hand down the bumps of his now six-pack abdomen, stopping as his finger touched the lower parts. The muscle was extremely lean there, both sides a "y" shaped vein running across the dark, tanned, surface. He saw his hands then, their power seeming dangerous, perhaps deadly. They looked like hands for crushing. Sean opened and closed his palms, watching the veins flex from his forearms and biceps. He turned to the side to check his shoulders, three striated sections defying the skin, a single vein on both sides mapping their way to his bulging pecs. He flexed his triceps like he saw the bodybuilders do on T.V., watching as the muscle formed the perfect horseshoe shape. KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK Sean turned towards the door of his bedroom. He realized his door wasn't locked. Whoever it was, they were going to freak when they saw him, and most likely not in the good way. "Just a second," Sean said. But the person didn't abide, and the door swung open, Sean standing dead center, naked. "Dad..." Sean said, not knowing what else to say as he glared at his father standing there with birthday cake in hand. "Happy Birthday," his dad said. He put the cake down on a nearby dresser, and grabbed Sean into a tight embrace. "Happy Birthday, son," he said again, lifting Sean from the floor as if his new body was not a factor. "Eighteen, Sean. Finally." He eyed Sean up and down. "Look at you! That's my boy!" Sean saw what he was glaring at. His cock had hardened from all the excitement, and now sat there throbbing up and down with each beat of his now pounding heartbeat. "Dad!" Sean said, turning around as quickly as he could. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Sean," his father said. "Dad," said Sean, "I'm naked--and is my penis the first thing you noticed." His father laughed, clapping his hands together. "Sorry, but it's been a while since my transformation, you know." "T-transformation?" Sean had always thought his father was huge, but he just thought he worked out a lot. And even now, the red A-shirt his father wore exposed the massive slabs of meat that were his pecs, his shorts revealing the vascular muscle of his cut, lean quads, and perfectly defined calves, the right one having a thick vein running down to his ankle. His father pointed to Sean's bed. Sean had been too preoccupied with his new muscles that he didn't even think about what had happened to his bed clothes. Sean walked up to his bed and lifted up the shredded remains of his Hanes t-shirt and small boxer briefs. "You mean, at night?" Sean asked. "I transformed...transformed into this?" His father smiled. "All people like you and me do on their 18th birthday." Sean didn't know what to say. "Eat your cake later," his father said, breaking the silence. "Why don't you come downstairs first. There's someone who wants to speak with you--oh, and don't forget to get dressed." He smiled. Sean's face flushed a bright red. He nodded, and his father left the room, closing the door behind him. *** It took Sean a good ten minutes to find something that would fit, and in the end, he succeeded with a black sleeveless shirt, that still felt as if it would shred if he flexed his pecs, and some gym shorts, the massive, cut, vein covered legs unable to hide into his normal jeans. Sean found that he actually had to tighten the drawstring of his shorts just to keep them on his now 28 inch waist. As he reached the last step, his eyes settled on a huge man standing in the living room with his father. He wore a black, sleeveless Karate-Gi, the muscles in his chest and arms easily visible beneath. Sean had to check if his jaw was hanging on the floor. "You must be Sean," the man said, walking up to him. He extended his hand. For a minute Sean was afraid to take it, thinking the man just might crush the very bones in his hand, but took the shake in good faith and manners. The man looked back at his father. "So the prank tradition continues." Sean's father chuckled. "Like you said, tradition." "Prank? This can't be a prank?" Sean said, his spirits falling a bit. "Oh, no no no--not the transformation bit, just the 'not giving you proper clothing for the night'. If you want my opinion, I was kind of glad my father didn't give me fitting clothing either," the man said with a laugh. "I'm Professor Michael Pearce, of the Hanazin Warrior Academy. I'm the head of the House of Dragahna." Sean noticed the patchwork on the left breast of his gi. There was a Huge, Muscular man (looking a lot like the one standing in front of him) surrounded by a transparent golden orb--like a force field, and that surrounded by a wreath of olive branches. I'm here as your guide." "Guide?" "Guide to help you settle into your new school." Sean didn't know if he should cheer, or sulk. He hated his present school, but the idea of going to a new one. Honestly, everything was happening to fast to comprehend. "First things first," Prof. Pearce said. "Take off your clothes." •
  8. Mickyh32

    Jake: The Brother In Charge PT1

    Jack and his younger brother got home from the gym. Jack unlocked the door, “ get inside now boy!” He grabbed hold of dean's shirt and flung him into the house. Dean went flying into the wall with a thud. Dean got back up and rubbed his shoulder. “ Wow master, you threw me like I was a rag doll!” He said in amazement, a huge smile beaming on his face. Jack slammed the door behind him, “ Listen shit bag, You are a rag doll to me boy, a skinny weak runt I'm gonna have so much fun with. Your my slave now, you do exactly what i say boy, I own you, I'm bigger, stronger and far superior than you in every way possible. You go to bed when I say, you get up when I get up, you cook what I tell you to cook, you get the picture boy?” “ Y y yesss master, anything for you, you are by far the biggest and strongest person I have ever seen!” Dean replied. “ Would master like me to do anything?” he asked Jack. Jack walked over to his younger bro, grabbed him by the neck and lifted him high in the air. Dean's feet were dangling at least 3ft off the floor, Dean was gasping for air, his legs flaing about, he looked down at his brothers menacing face, his eyes bulged at the sight of jacks huge, ripped, juicy muscled forearm easily hosting his light body up, Dean also had a view of his brothers immense pecs and collosal shoulders, both rippled with devastating power. Jack finally drops Dean on the floor, Dean coughs and splutters as air returns to his lungs. Jack stood over him his massive bulk dominating the space around them. “ Master would like to know what it feels like for you to be so easily man handled by your brother, how it makes you want to worship my huge muscles and witness my immense power?” he asked. He folded his huge arms across his even bigger chest, both fighting of space. Dean looks up at his brother, watching his huge devastating muscles fight for superiority on his body. “ It feels fantastic master, you are so strong you could lift anything, I would happily let you man handle me all time if it means I get to see your fantastic muscles in action. I would love nothing more than to lay my hands on your perfect body master and feel the power those huge muscles possess”. He replied. Jack smiled menacingly. “ Get up boy, take your shirt off!” He demanded. Dean picked himself up and lifted his shirt off his ripped body and tossed it on the sofa. He looked down at his lean ripped body then up to his brothers gargantuan body, he sighed in embarrassment. “ What would you like me to do master?” Dean asked. “ I want you to flex for me boy, I want to see how small and worthless you really are!” with that Jack shoved his bro towards the wall length mirror, Dean flew across the room and stumbled into the mirror. Jack prowled up behind him, he had a tape measure in his hand. “ Flex your bicep now boy.” Jack demanded. Dean knew better than to disagree so he reluctantly accepted and flexed his left bicep, a small hard ripped peak rose up his arm. Jack sniggered, “ my god so small!” He wrapped the tape round dean's arm, “ Christ you are pathetic boy, 12 inches! “ Dean hung his head,” yes master I am pathetic.” Jack then wrapped the tape round dean's chest and again chortled, “ 28in, disgusting, lift your left side shorts up you weed!” Dean obeyed and lifted his shorts up, his skinny athletic legs had a light coating of hair on, Jack knelt down and wrapped the tape round the upper part of the thigh. “ 23in, you are just one lanky piece of shit aren't you boy, how can you be happy looking like that, I've got broomsticks that are bigger than you, here.” Jack throws the tape at Dean, “ time to see what real muscle looks like boy!” Jack started by flexing his gargantuan biceps, peaks that would make Everest look small rose imperiously up his arm, muscle grew on top of muscle. “ Whoa…….” Dean moaned. His hands shaking as he approached his brothers immense arms, he began wrapping it round the peak, he joined the ends together and read the numbers. “ Fuuuuuckkkkk, 34in master, your a monster!” Jack cackled with delight, “ yes a boy I'm a monster, 34 in arms, the best in the business, I'd wipe the floor in any competition, now my chest boy!” Dean moved the tape to Jacks impossibly pecs, he started to wrap but jacks body was so huge and wide he had trouble keeping it there,” er er er master can you hold the tape please? “ he asked. Jack laughed, “ am I to wide for your pathetic skinny arms boy, there! “ Jack placed a meaty finger on the tape, Dean continued round his brothers bulk, he eventually joined the ends. “ 78in master, unbelievable! “ Dean was mesmerized by his masters sheer size. “ I could fit your skinny assbody in my pec gap and crush you with there power. Dean shuddered with fear as he took the tape away. “ Now my legs boy!” Jack lifted his shorts leg up to reveal the thickest most densely populated leg of muscle anyone had seen, ridges upon ridges of muscle piled high and wide engulfed his quads. Dean gulped hard, “ Sweet Jesus master your legs are freakishly beastly!” He began to wrap the tape round jacks meaty quad, the two ends met, “ 65in master, incredible! You are a collosal behemoth! “ Dean was opened mouthed at his brothers unbelievable body. “ Boy, come and kneel in front of my leg and open your legs,” demanded Jack. Dean knelt down and spread his legs a little, Jack moved closer placing his right foot in the gap in dean's legs, then looked in the mirror. “ Look boy my quad is wider than your upper body hahah” it was true, one of jacks thighs stuck out at least 15cm each side of dean's body. Dean was drooling. “ Master you are a dream come true, you are ginormous, stronger than anything I know, I am nothing compared to you, I'm weak, worthless, I am……….” He was about to continue but got interrupted by Jack. “ Enough of the talk boy, I know your weak, pathetic, worthless, a sad existence. Christ if you weren't my brother i would have destroyed you by now, you see boy, I want more, much more and your gonna help me get it, I wanna grow more bigger and stronger, so the question is do you wanna help me? Choose your answer carefully! “ Jack cracked his bull thick neck, the sound alone sent shivers down dean's spine. “ Y yyyess master anything you want I will get for you just say!” Dean knelt down and bowed before his brother. “ That's a good boy, now I want food, I need to eat big, get cooking for me boy,time to grow!” Jack ordered Dean to the kitchen. Jack got Dean to cook 1.3kg of lean mince, 500g of wholewheat pasta, 4 scope of optimum nutrition weight gainer and 500g of instant oats, it came to a whopping 6151 cals. Jack slammed it down in 20 mins. “ Boy, get down the shops and get me more food!” “ yes master”. Dean put on his coat and went shopping.
  9. dominantmusclemaster

    Master's Pup

    Masters Pup I walk through the door, lock it behind me and make my way to the living room. As I enter the room I glance at the clock on the wall. Ten o’ clock exactly, that’s good. I strip out of my clothes; jeans, t-shirt, jacket, socks and trainers, and lay them neatly folded on the sofa. Wearing only my boxers I walk into the middle of the room and kneel down facing the door. After a few minutes I hear his footsteps as he climbs the stairs from the basement and a shiver of anticipation runs through me. As he walks through the door into the room wearing only a pair of pale blue workout tights, it takes all of my self-control not to run over to him. To grab hold of his supremely powerful body and feel his hot, bulging muscles. To kiss his smooth, tanned skin. To savour his masculine scent. But I do not. I am a good pup and I know my place and what is expected of me. Instead I kneel before him, drinking in the sight of his physical perfection. His face is handsome and angular face, his chin darkened with a day’s stubble. His huge muscular chest rises and falls rhythmically with each breath he takes and leads down to his solid clearly defines abs. His small waist flares out into huge quads sheathed in blue spandex, the material so tight that his impressive cock is clearly outlined. He is the ultimate embodiment of masculinity. Strong, powerful, authoritive. “Good morning pup”, he smiles, his deep, dark brown eyes boring into mine, stripping my mind open and allowing him to see every aspect of me. My deepest needs and desires opened up to him. “G…good morning Master”, I croak, the mere sound of his deep commanding voice rendering me almost speechless with desire. My cock twitches in my boxers as he walks past me and I smell the musky scent from his body, a smell so potently masculine that it could be bottled as a testosterone substitute. I look over at him and take in the sight of his muscular bubble butt, flexing erotically beneath the spandex as he walks. He opens a cabinet and on a shelf sits several dog collars. I feel a pang of jealousy as I notice another collar has been added since last week. Another pup added to his ever growing litter. All of the collars are identical. Black leather, with a small ring on the back to attach a lead and a small metal plate on the front on which our names are engraved. Mine says, “laundry pup”, and I sometimes wonder if Master even remembers my birth name. I say birth as opposed to real name because my real name is whatever label my Master bestows upon me. He picks up my collar, stands behind me and gently fastens it around my neck. I feel a deep sense of peace come over me as we enact this symbol of his ownership of me. I have no cares of my own, no decisions to make. The only concern I now have is pleasing my Master. He will command and I will obey. I am liberated. “You have work to do pup”, he says, “I suggest you get started. “Yes Master”, I reply. On my hands and knees I crawl into the hall towards the laundry room. In my Masters presence I am not permitted to stand without his express permission. I am his pup and I am expected to crawl at his feet. Once in the laundry room I stand and walk over to the washing hamper. I start to lift out the dirty laundry when I notice a pair of black trunks. It is clear from the stains that my Master has at some point unloaded a torrent of cum into them and I lift them to my face. I inhale deeply, savouring the smell of my Master’s crotch, my dick hardening as I do so. I am tempted to place them in my mouth, to hungrily suck on them and taste my Master, but I refrain. It is enough that I am smelling his dirty underwear, to lick them without his permission would seem like a violation. I am here to serve him, not satisfy my own perverted urges. I start to load the washing machine and once that is done I empty the dryer in preparation for the ironing. I glance up at the flat screen TV mounted on the wall opposite the ironing board and stare. The screen is linked to a camera in my Master’s basement gym and he is there performing dumbbell flies with 2 massive looking barbells. I stare in awe as he performs rep after rep, his muscles flexing and contracting in beautiful symphony. My Master doesn’t always work out whilst I am performing my duties but when he does it is both a blessing and a curse. Watching him work out his superbly conditioned body makes me painfully hard. There is no TV in the basement, nor does my Master bother with music. He is completely focused, approaching his work outs with the same single minded focus he approaches everything else. His commitment to the task at hand is total. But I must not allow myself to be distracted by his physical perfection. I have a job to do and I am expected to do it well. My Master expects his clothes to be as perfect as the body they adorn, and if I do not perform to his standards I will be punished. Of course, no punishment hurts as much as the knowledge that I have disappointed him. I begin to iron his clothes, focussing on the task and not the screen, ensuring every article is perfect before moving onto the next. As I carefully place a shirt on a hanger I notice that he has moved onto barbell squats. I allow myself a few minutes to stop and watch, as he bends his knees and his perfectly defined muscle butt lowers towards the floor, the spandex threatening to rip apart from the pressure of his swollen glutes. I can feel myself leaking pre-cum as he straightens his legs and rises back up with agonising slowness before repeating the movement. I glance down at myself to see wet spots on the front of my boxers and look away from the screen, using all my will power to stop myself from erupting uncontrollably. I go back to my tasks, emptying the washing machine and loading the laundry into the dryer, finishing off the ironing and then taking the freshly ironed clothes into his room and putting them away exactly as he likes it, all the while fighting the urge not to get distracted by the absolute masculine perfection on the screen before me. Once all the laundry is completed I head back into the living room and resume my position in the middle of the room. Ten minutes or so pass before I hear his footsteps once more ascending the stairs. I hear him walk down the hallway towards his bedroom and know that he is checking I have completed my tasks to his satisfaction. When he finally comes back into the living room the expression on his face is unreadable and he is carrying a lead. Without a word he moves behind me and attaches the lead to my collar. He walks towards the full length mirror on the far wall and tugs at the lead so that I immediately crawl after him. He stops in front of the mirror and admires himself for a few moments. The contrast between us is stark. My pale, flabby body looks truly pitiful alongside his swollen tanned muscles. Every aspect of his physique dwarfs my own. He is bigger than me, harder stronger than me. Side by side like this there can be no doubt that he is superior to me in every way. It simply reinforces my understanding that he was born to rule and I was born to serve. He moves behind me and begins to wrap the lead around his wrist, taking up the slack until my head is pulled back against him. I feel his dick, rock hard against the back of my skull and feel a surge of pride in the knowledge that my servitude is the cause of his arousal. “Take out your dick”, he commands, and I immediately reach into my boxers and take out my engorged cock. My arousal is obvious but it is no way compares to the monster appendage pressing against my skull. “Stroke yourself”. Again I obey instantly and start to slowly pump my cock. He gives another tug on the lead causing it to press against my throat, making it difficult to breath. “What are you?” he asks. “I..I am a lowly submissive”, I gasp, “and I crave the authority of my Master”. He raises his free arm and flexes increasing my arousal as I watch the reflection of the muscle swelling in size and hardness. “Repeat your mantra”, he says flexing his chest. “I am a lowly submissive and I crave the authority of my Master”, I croak. The constriction against my throat and the sight of his powerful pecs bouncing up and down are making it hard to breathe, but I dutifully chant my mantra over and over again. These are the last words I hear myself say every night as I drift off to sleep. This is the first thought I have every morning when I awaken. My very existence summed up in 13 words. I increase the tempo of my stroking as I watch his powerful, Godlike body flex over me. My breathing becomes more ragged, my voice more shrill as I feel my orgasm approach. “Cum”, he commands, and my body obeys, shooting my thick milky fluid over the floor. He unclips the lead and I slump forward physically and mentally drained. “Clean up your mess”, he growls, walking out the room. I know what is expected of me. Whenever my Master allows me to cum in his presence I am expected to lick it up afterwards but it is a small price to pay for the most intense orgasms I have ever experienced. I lean forward and begin to lap my cum off the floor and am almost finished when he returns holding a dog bowl. He watches wordlessly as I lick up the last of my cum and then places the bowl on the ground. “Thank you Master”, I say, touched by his thoughtfulness. My mouth is dry, gritty and foul tasting and I begin to lap thirstily from the bowl. The yellow liquid is warm and slightly salty and I am honoured at being allowed to ingest my Masters Godly nectar. As I slurp gratefully on his warm piss he picks up his phone and sits down on the large leather sofa. “Hey, it’s me”, he says when the other person answers. “Did you make a reservation? Good, I’ll pick you up from your place at 8, we can have a quick drink before we eat. See you then babe.” I cannot help but feel envious towards the lucky woman that will get the chance to sit across a table from this Supreme Being, knowing that at the end of the evening he will be fucking her into whimpering submission. He hangs up and immediately dials another number. This time his voice is more authoritative. “You pick me up from my house at quarter to eight and drive me into town. Don’t be late”. He ends the call without even waiting for a reply, knowing that whomever was on the other end is incapable of refusing him. When I finish drinking what is in the bowl he walks over to me, removes the collar and places back in the cabinet. “I have no further use for you today pup”, he says, “get dressed and leave. I will see you on Wednesday”. “Yes Master”, I reply, “thank you for allowing me the honour of serving you”. He smiles at my response and leaves the room. I once more gaze longingly at his broad, powerful back and incredible glutes as he walks away, and know that the next 3 days will seem like an eternity.
  10. PART 1: The Season Opener I swallowed hard. The time had almost come, just another minute to go. I was sweating bullets as I waited behind the archway for my cue. The sound of the crowd out there was almost deafening, even back here behind the soundproof walls. I don't think I've ever been this excited or nervous before in my life. It was time for my very first match! An incredibly important one at that; the big opening match of the season. After months of anticipation, it was finally time to see if all those extreme stretches and stress tests were worth the effort. This match-up was going to push me to my limits. I was going up against the second biggest guy in the league right out the gate. It was a hell of a surprise for a first-time rookie like myself. Most guys in my position are lucky to book a match with an opponent at the lower end of the size rankings, maybe a mid-tier. My dinky little boner throbbed in my singlet just thinking about how gargantuan this guy was gonna be. I couldn't wait for him to crush me flatter than a pancake. "Ladiiiiiiies and gentlemen," I heard the announcer start. "We here at the C.W.L. hope you're ready for an explosive evening of heavy slamming, hard blasting, ultra intense, and extra imbalanced mayhem!" Deep breaths, Jeremy, deep breaths. Here we go... "And now, without further ado: In this corner, standing at mere 4 foot, 9 inches and weighing in at a measly 90 lbs, your Jobber for this evening: Jeremyyyyyy 'The Doormat' Smallwood." Right on cue, I walk through the entryway and began my first ever walk to the ring. Fireworks streamed out along the pathway, spunky theme music pumped through the speakers, and the crowd was cheering with ravenous anticipation. The intense wall of sound hit my ears like a freight train, but the overwhelming cacophany jazzed me up for what was ahead. It took me a hot minute to journey down the lengthy path, climb the daunting stairs, and awkwardly clamber to my corner. I took a moment to soak in the sight of the sprawling expanse of empty mat and the towering turnbuckles looming overhead. The ring here had to be extra, extra enormous since this league's wrestlers were- *THOOM* *BOOM* *THOOM* A mighty and imposing form had slowly stomped its way to the entryway opposite mine, waiting in the shadows for his cue to come out next. I could barely see his outline with all the overwhelming lights, lasers, and fog machines blasting everywhere, but my opponent was ready. I swallowed hard again, shaking like a leaf in anticipation. He was even bigger than I had anticipated. Hell yeah. "In this corner, standing at an incredible 24 feet, 11 inches and weighing a staggering 45,550 lbs, your Colossus for the evening: Apollooooo 'The Apocalypse' Rexford." *BOOM* *THOOM* *DOOM* *FOOM* Thunderous footfalls made the entire stadium shake intensely as Apollo slowly stomped his way to the ring. The league didn't typically bother playing theme music for the big boys; the booms generated by their every step were more than enough to raise the crowd's excitement. It was like the thumping of drums from a barbarian warship, signaling the arival of an unstoppable force. The cheers from the crowd when they saw me paled in comparison to how loudly they screamed for Apollo. I bit my lip as I watched him make his way toward the ring, his head rising higher and higher while simultaneously filling more and more of my horizonal view. He was a towering, impossible wall of muscles on muscles on muscles on MUSCLES even wider than he was tall. It took all of my concentration not to cream my singlet right then and there just from the quaking vibrations his mammoth feet. I'd saved up all week for this, and I wasn't about to let it go to waste. You may be wondering why a minuscule shrimp like me is being matched up against a man 500 times his weight and five times his height. Seems a little bit one-sided for a wrestling match, right? Absolutely! That's how things have always been in the Colossus Wrestling League. In the C.W.L. it's always a tiny resilient wimp against a hulking multi-ton bully. My job isn't to actually wrestle this monstrous man, goodness no. That would be silly. My job is to be his personal plaything, punching bag, and boy toy for the next few hours while an adoring horny adult audience enjoys the spectacle. That's the life of a professional jobber in this miraculous age. We jobbers are few and far between; an extremely rare mutation of human that is almost entirely immune to direct physical damage or injury. We're naturally small and scrawny in build, but you can crush us, squish us, slam us, bend us, stretch us, twist us - whatever really. We'll always end up springing back to normal soon enough like a rubbery cartoon prop. And on top of that, we're also highly resistant to pain. Being smooshed like a grape certainly feels intense, even overwhelming and uncomfortable at times, but it doesn't particularly hurt. If anything, for me at least, it's the ultimate turn-on. On the opposite end of the spectrum, but no less rare, are the colossi. While jobbers are tiny and resistant, they're gargantuan and tough. All colossi are ridiculously tall and naturally bursting at the seams with inhuman muscles. Even if a colossus never lifted a weight in his life he would have a bod so impossibly powerful and pumped he'd make the Incredible Hulk feel scrawny. But a big bod comes with hefty needs for fuel and relief; colossi have infamously massive appetites and sex drives to match their muscle. With the C.W.L. footing all their members' sky-high food bills and providing willing toys like me, most are more than happy to sign up as wrestlers and entertain the horny masses. And so, here we are. The big match. After many quake-inducing steps, Apollo had made it to the ring. My eyes widened as nearly 23 tons of bulk effortlessly stepped over the lofty ropes and made the specially-built, highly reinforced wrestling mat sag noticeably. His muscles, glistening under the lights with a perpetual cascade of sweat, were even more magnificent close up. Every obscenely disproportionate muscle group battled ferociously with one another for space at the tiniest of movements while an awe-inspiring tangle of thick, undulating vascularity snaked across every rippling surface. I once more bit my lip, overwhelmed by, not just the sight of him, but also his smell. Apollo, like most colossi, radiated a naturally intoxicating pheromone-heavy masculine musk. Few were immune to its enticing effects, and the bigger the colossus, the more potent his reek. I took a deep, deep inhale while my eyes were busy drinking in as many visual details of the beautiful he-man who would be flattening me tonight as they possibly could. Frick, he was absurdly handsome. Apollo's face seemed just as excessively macho as his body, with rugged features that looked like they had been carved from granite. That hard square chin. Those razor sharp cheekbones. That flawless stubble. Those full kissable lips. Long flowing locks of gorgeous golden hair flowed down from his head to the base of his 'neck.' Although, honestly, his neck was so thick with bulging meat that it barely resembled a neck at all any more. In fact, all of Apollo's extreme beef threatened to engulf his lovely face entirely from just about every direction. As if 25 feet of brute height wasn't enough, his trapezius muscles towered over his head by several additional feet. His massive deltoids, spread what felt like a mile apart, looked bigger than sedans. His prodigious powerful pectorals seemed like they'd dwarf small blimps. Both beef zeppelins pressed up intensely at his chin while jutting forward so unbelievably far that I'm honestly surprised the shelf's weight didn't topple him over. A dozen people could've been swallowed whole in the dark abyss between those tiddies. I certainly hoped I could go spelunking in those caverns eventually. His mile-wide upper body cinched down rapidly to create the most extreme, exaggerated hour-glass figure you can imagine. His long, hard 18-pack abs and rippling obliques tensed with densely-packed power as they worked overtime to keep his immense upper body balanced. The valleys between each pair of abs was also impressively deep; I bet if he did sit-ups you could crush coal into diamonds. To my surprise given the infamous nature of colossus dongs, there wasn't much of, if any, bulge to speak of in the front of his skin-tight sapphire blue speedo. I ever-so briefly experienced the one tiny twinge of disappointment I would feel that night... right up until I lowered my gaze a little further. Apollo's lower body immediately exploded back outward from his lean waist. His monstrous rippling pillars of quad muscle were as wide as his shoulders. There was NO space between them - it was quad vs quad in the ultimate battle for supremacy. You'd probably need to sit way back in the arena's nosebleed seats to observe all his hyper-developed leg meat at once. His calves were no less impressive, the fat carved diamonds were bulging like meat mattresses from carrying all that sheer tonnage. And then, at the very bottom, below his perfectly sculpted ankles, were his feet. Holy shit, those feet. Even for a man of his size and extreme dimensions they seemed disproportionately huge and muscly. Outside the ring Apollo normally wore specialized shoes made of an advanced shock-absorbing material so he didn't destroy every surface he stepped on. But here in the wrestling ring I got to see them in all their beautiful bare glory: perfectly smooth, immaculately clean, and flawlessly pedicured. In fact, every inch of my massive opponent from head to toe was flawlessly well-kept, since the colossi were pampered like royalty behind the scenes. The jobbers were treated fairly well too, but we didn't require quite as much upkeep as the men whose nails outsize trashcan lids. It took noticeable effort for him to do so, but Apollo managed to press his big burly chin down low enough into his obscuring tit meat to look at me directly. He licked his lips, a hungry and flirtatious smile spreading over his face. He let out a low, deep, velvety baritone grunt of desire that seemed to ripple through his muscles and vibrate from there throughout the entire arena. I once more came dangerously close to blasting in my load, but managed to hold on. Judging by some moans I heard in the crowd, several people weren't able to hold back as effectively. "Oh yeah..." he growled low, drinking in the audience's lust as he stared me down. "I'm gonna have fun with you, little man." Apollo began to raise up his arms, preparing to flex for his adoring public. The two monoliths were so incredibly thick they may well have put even his pecs and quads to shame. His forearms were so fat with bulging meat I was earnestly surprised he had as much mobility as he did. The preposterous pythons throbbed with macho power, bunching up and battling with themselves from just this simple lifting motion, and hovered tangelizingly out to each side. A hush came over the crowd in anticipation of the coming display. I was drooling a little. *BOOM* A shockwave of air rippled out from each peak as Apollo performed a front double-bicep pose. Each arm muscle blasted upward, forming a perfectly split peak that reached up to his clenched fists. The audience once more erupted with cheers, but he wasn't done just yet. With clenched teeth and a primal grunt he flexed his arms harder, willing more mass to spill out as his veins engorged with blood. Through this Herculean efforts both biceps rapidly rose, releasing another shockwave while the peaks reached the same astounding height as his traps. Not to be outdone, his triceps had simultaneously erupted in the opposite direction, becoming so large that their beautifully absurd forms slammed into the wrestling mat below. The mini-earthquake this created made me fall over, and I whimpered as I once more struggled not to pop off before the match even started. I wanted to worship this man with every fiber of my being. He was a grotesque monument to pure unhindered muscularity, and I wanted to lick every inch of him. As he bounced both bodacious biceps rhythmically, Apollo's audience showered him with yet more cheers and adoration. He beamed with satisfaction. The rhythmic bounces sent his abundant arm sweat spritzing out into the audience, splashing a lucky handful. After a minute or so of this pumped peacock display he finally relaxed his flex, his tremendous arms shrinking down to their smaller, though still awe-inspiring, size. I couldn't wait to see if his other muscles were capable of such extreme explosions of excess bulk. "Listen up, all you pathetic little PIPSQUEAKS!" Apollo commanded to his captivated audience. His neck meat clenched intensely whenever he raised his voice for emphasis. There was no need for microphones with colossi since their deep booming voices usually filled the arena with relatively little effort. "It's the first match of the season. A BIG event! And BIG events featuring dudes as BIG as me need big BIG surprises. So for a long while now I've been brewing an extra special gift for whichever miniscule, microscopic, scrawny little piece of fresh meat I eventually got paired with today." He pointed to me with a ravenous smirk. My heart was aflutter. "You know us big guys, we are a HORNY bunch. Most of us can't go more than a couple hours without pumping out one of our infamous monster loads. But, y'know what? You know what, weaklings? While you impatient bugs were out there beating off daily to my perfectly sculpted muscles," He did a small (for him at least) side-chest pose for emphasis. From where I was standing I could actually hear his muscle fibers groan. "I haven't let loose even once since the last season ended. Not. One. Single. Time." The audience let out a collective gasp. A colossus going one day without a release was one thing, maybe a week if they had the willpower... but several months? Utterly unheard of. "That's right, you PUNY JOBBER RUNT," he gleefully barked, turning his attention back to me. "I hope you're ready for the ride of your little life because I am PENT," With an audible lurching throb, the previously lacking bulge in Apollo's blue speedo surged outward, a mound bigger than my entire body throbbing from nowhere under the fabric. "-the FUCK," It lurched again harder, rapidly multiplying in erect mass. His previously non-existant balls suddenly rivaled small mini-vans in size, spilling out from the the impossibly stretched spandex, which somehow managed to retain its shape around the increasingly large hardening dick. The two multi-ton mounds hit the ground hard enough to cause another quake. "-UP!!" With one last monumental surge Apollo's rock-hard, heavily-veined schlong was towering above me at almost 15 feet long. I'm pretty sure it was twice as thick in circumference as my entire body. It was nothing short of a scientific miracle that his speedo was still intact. It was stretched comically thin and tight, leaving most of him exposed and rendering it a little bit superfluous. His mighty balls were now comparible to his pecs in rounded size, visibly churning with the countless gallons upon gallons of spunk he had been saving up those many months and somehow kept secret until mere moments ago. The visible skin of his dick throbbed crimson as globs of pre the size of my head dripped down like a leaky faucet through the soaked fabric at the tip. It looked, for lack of a better word, ANGRY. This thing was pissed off about holding back for so long, and it was looking to let out its pent-up aggression on someone small, wimpy, and conveniantly invulnerable to damage. As I salivated silently over this latest erogenous display of hypermasculinity and battled once more to keep my loins calm... the bell suddenly rang. Time for the match to begin.
  11. tester26

    Teenage Destroyers

    This was an attempt to write a snuff story that is based on the Teenage Destroyers series on Snufflovers. It may not be to your tastes. You have been warned. TEENAGE DESTROYERS PART 7 "You should have seen the tight bitch I fucked last week. For a virgin she sure screamed like a whore." Nick chuckled to his friend Tony. "Too bad she wasn't able to take all of my cock." "I'm fucking tired of bitches complaining about getting fucked. Whatever hole I pound, I wanna go hard and fucking balls deep, man." Tony agreed. At only 18, Tony and Nick looked sculpted from marble with 8-pack abs, ripped muscle, and big, firm asses. They were fucking 300-pound teen musclegods. Most days, they showed up at the gym without shirts, their bodies were accentuated by the sweat that glistened off their smooth skin as they worked out. "Fuck, all this talk about bitches has me so fucking boned up, I wouldn't mind a blowjob from a faggot." Tony squeezed his semi through his loose red basketball shorts. Nick's eyes scanned around the lockers, spotting Tom, a thin seedy-looking punk a few lockers away pulling a blunt out of his locker. His lips curled into an evil smile. "I've got an idea. " Nick said, as he slipped off his shorts. A grin of understanding curled on Tony's face and his eyes expanded with glee and quickly stripped as well. "Ah shit...fuckin' love you dude." Nick and Tony rush and corner Tom against his locker. "What's up bitch?" Tony announced. A sound, barely perceptible escaped Tom's lips. "So you're the asshole stinking up the lockers with your fucking blunts, huh?" Nick boomed. Tom shuddered, his head barely reaching up to the shoulders of the two studs. He was less than half the size of either Nick or Tony, and his eyes were filled with a mix of lust and fear. Before him was the naked, hulking body of the teenage bodybuilder Nick. Tom speechlessly ogled the vast expanse of the pectoral muscle that blocked his exit from one side. Nick's arms hung loose at his sides, the biceps unflexed yet still so unbelievably huge and wide. Tom's eyes admired the solid rack of abdominal muscles, then followed the curves of the sculpted obliques as they flowed into a pair of legs so heavily laden with muscle that no one could doubt their monstrous power. Between those pillars, Nick's thick 12 inch cock stood at full attention, nearly pressing into Tom's belly. To his side was Tony, nearly equal in mass and just as naked. His pecs were swollen from the blast he'd just given them. His deltoids were huge and rounded, still engorged with blood from the overhead presses, the detailed serrations still visible. He grinned evilly and he stroked his own massive cock. "Time to teach you a fucking lesson!" Tom didn't stand a chance. Nick picked him up and easily picked him up and threw him onto the bench. "Ahhh!!" the punk cried as he struck the edge of the bench. To Nick, Tom was just a toy. A fucktoy that he could use and brutalize in any way he wanted. And God did he want to! He wanted to use his hard 12 inch cock like a weapon to stab the little shit with. He wished his cock was twice as long and three times as thick, so he could fuck the little shit until his organs had turned into mush. He'd use his horse cock to fill Tom up with so much jizz, it would be forced to drip out of his mouth, nose, ears and eyes. Nick straddled the punk, pressed his ass on the boy's upper body, and squeezed his muscular thighs to pin the kid's arms in place. Meanwhile, Tony got on his knees in front of the bench, his massive cock at the perfect height to enter the fuckbag's mouth. Tony immediately shoved his cock head in the punk's mouth. The 11 inch dick was the biggest, longest, fattest thing Tom had ever had in his mouth. He had less than a third of his rod in when he hit the back of the Tom's throat. Tony applied strong pressure on the kid's head and felt his hard dick continue its long journey down the slut's pipe. The massive tip was acting like a snow plow, sending the small organs to the sides, bumping against his little heart, rearranging his tubes and slowly making its way down the punk's body. It was pure delight for the muscle teens to watch all 11 inches of thick teen cock make its way deep in Tom's throat. "Holy fucking shit, yes!!!" The stud shoved the toy's head down with cruelty to get the large base of his huge cock in the slut's obscenely widened mouth. Just as Tony's trimmed pubes touched Tom's stretched lips, Nick felt a bump under his ballsack. "Fuuuuuuuuuck, man! Your cock is poking through his stomach. I can feel it on my nuts, it's fucking crazy." Tony enjoyed the incredible feeling of having all 11 inches of his enormous cock buried to the root in someone's throat. Even when Tom started to choke and tried to move his head, the way he squirmed felt amazing. Occasionally, Tony would withdraw enough to let the living cumdump breathe before he shoved all the way back in, his balls slapping over Tom's nose and eyes. Nick got up and Tom's arms immediately flailed around but Tony quickly pinned them down to the bench. With one hand, Nick lined up his footlong cock to its target and brutally thrust his whole cock into the kid's colon with a sickening squish. Tom's head was shoved hard against Tony's crotch and the gigantic cock was pushed even further down, the outline of his dick head clearly visible through Tom's chest. Tom's scream was muffled by Tony's meat as he was violated by a second, even larger, cock. "Fuuuuuuuuuuck, that's so freaking hot!" Tony panted. "That's it, slut, feel my cock push against your little heart. You got muscle all around you! Huh you like that? Bet I could snuff you with just my dick. Shoot you so full of cum your goddamn head would explode!" They pulled almost all of their thick poles out of Tom, and then rammed all of themselves back into the small, frail body as hard as they could. In perfect sync, Tony and Nick pistoned their living toy with long hard thrusts. The former ravaged the punk's throat and punched the bottom of his stomach, all the while smashing his teen balls on Tom's eyes and nose. The latter battered the kid's internal organs, forming a footlong fuck tunnel that ran from asshole to sternum. The punk's esophagus and colon were so incredibly tight as they gripped and moved with the teens' cocks. Both teens kept changing the speed, tilting the punk backwards so that Nick's massive tool was pushing against the toy's stomach walls and making it bulge out. "Fuck! You can almost see the veins on your dick through the bitch's stretched guts," Tony marveled. Nick rubbed his hands over the bulge, enjoying the feeling of Tom's insides wrapped tightly around his shaft. Tom was used like a fleshlight, with such wild abandon that when both studs pulled out, it looked as if Tom deflated. But when the two teen gods shoved their pricks back to the hilt, Tom's small body seemed to double in size. Their cocks bumped against one another, as they raped the young punk, was just the cherry on top of the muscle sundae. "This fuckbag is tight as shit, man!" Nick shouted. "I know, bro!" Tony screamed. "His throat is clasping my dong like a motherfucking vice-grip!" Both teens increased their speed at which they pummeled Tom's throat and colon, slamming their massive teen tools in the most ferocious manner, not caring if the living cumdump could take it or not. Sweat ran down their tight abs and dripped all over Tom's body. But they were already close. Their thrusts became more erratic, and out of sync. They both held Tom's sides, four big teen hands squeezing the punk's mid-section, almost completely encircling it. The studs felt both their massive cocks move in and out of the teen beneath their fingers. Jabbing their massive fucktools balls deep inside the rag doll one last time and their cocks spasmed, shooting pure alpha cum into the middle of the punk's blown up body. Somehow, the punk managed to stay conscious during the whole ordeal. But with all 23 inches of cock pulsating each time a jet of hot teen semen shot inside him, Tom had no influx of oxygen and started to choke. He couldn't see nor hear anything besides his own heartbeat drum in his ears, while he frantically hit whatever he could with his small fists. But the slut's panic only fueled the studs' lust, and made them shoot even harder inside the boy. Tony and Nick came deep inside the little fuckbag for close to a minute. After their body wrenching orgasm, the 18 year old gods haphazardly pulled their dripping, still rockhard dicks out of Tom's holes. It was a bit surreal to watch nearly 24 inches of solid teen meat withdraw from the skinny body of a punk. Cum poured out of Tom's gaping ass like a waterfall as he coughed up Tony's load, gasping for air. Nick and Tony high fived over the punk's wrecked body and quickly switched places. Nick took the boy's head while Tony faced the narrow sloppy ass, and they pushed their jizz-covered, rock-hard shafts inside the worn out sextoy. "Fuck Tony, his throat is as tight as his ass..." Nick said as they both bottomed out. "I know, bro! I feel your jizz sloshing around in his guts! Let's see how much damage we can really do with our mother fucking cocks." Tony laughed. With almost 2 feet of massive dick buried to the hilt inside the punk, the two 18 year old teen jocks began to stand. They meticulously went from kneeling, to squatting, without ever pulling out. When they were on their feet, they started to rise while stepping to the side, away from the bench. Nick and Tony stood in the middle of the locker room: two god-like figures with firm round buttocks clenched with enthusiastic depravity, tight abs glistening with teenage sweat as their granite hard tools kept Tom in place. The studs were perfect fuck machines and had every intention of testing how relentlessly... ferociously... and remorselessly they were going to hammer and crush this punk's insides with their mighty pricks. The first fuck had just been a warm-up. Now they were ready to go all in... without any mercy for their toy. The studs hadn't started thrusting yet. They just kept their schlongs buried to the root inside Tom and looked directly at each other with an evil smirk. Both let go of the boy at the same time and put their hands behind their heads, showing off their muscled bodies. The punk was face up, suspended three feet above the ground, supported only by two rock solid teen dicks buried deep in his guts and the pressure from the studs' hips against his face and his ass. Once again, Tom suffered from a cruel lack of oxygen. His head was turning purple and he frantically moved his arms in the air, not even trying to hit the jocks using him. The studs grinned as the punk started to convulse, his little dicklet hard as a nail. But the ripped studs didn't budge. Giving up an inch would allow Tom to slide off Nick's dick and catch a breath. Tom shuddered and began to shake more violently. His little body was being spit roasted by 24 inches of massive teen schlongs. Nick and Tony could feel the fuckbag spasm around their cocks, his throat and ass muscles tightening, deliciously squeezing their fucktools. "Shiiiiiiit Nick, his insides are milking my cock! I can feel his heartbeat on my dick!" said Tony. "Fucking A, man! His motherfucking throat is getting tighter every time he tries to breathe!" Nick's own fat cock stretched Tom's esophagus to the limit, almost dislocating Tom's jaws. But the cumbag's spasms and shuddering slowed down, then suddenly stopped. His arms and legs came to a complete halt, and dropped on either sides of his body as he passed out. Finally, Nick and Tony moved their right hands under the punk to help support his weight and slowly pulled out, until just the heads were in Tom's holes. His insides stopped contracting and the teens were ready to enjoy another mind-blowing fuck. Tom automatically sucked in air while Nick's fat member left his throat. Of course that was only momentary. Both teen gods immediately pushed their shafts balls deep back inside the fucktoy. Not wasting any time, the 18 year olds sped up their thrusts, taking their dicks almost all the way out before they slammed them back to the root. They were still amazed by how deep they could shove their monster cocks and it felt so deliriously good to have their balls slap against the cumbag with every forceful stab. One can hardly imagine what it looks like when two huge teen cocks, each of them being almost the size of a baby's arm, punch fuck a punk boy's skull and ass in perfect synchronicity. Two incredibly sexy teen studs using every muscle in their massive teenage bodies to thrust their thick shafts without mercy, deliberately trying to destroy and break their living fucktoy in half. The athletic teen studs rammed the punk with such wild brutality it looked as if their cocks were going to tear through Tom's chest. Tom was twisted in such a way that his head was forced closer to his little butt and his guts was pushed upward. In that angle, Tony and Nick's porn-sized cocks slammed against the small chest and made it bulge out. The frail cum-filled body was being ravaged with unspeakable violence, but none of the teenage boys gave a shit about his well being. Tom's lifeless arms and legs bounced around with each sadistic jab as the studs used the punk like a punching bag for their cocks. They never spent more than a half second inside or outside the fuckbag. Instead, they constantly slammed the slut's ass and face with such ferocity that he would certainly be covered in mean, dark bruises before sundown. "Aw yeah, you're just a fucking toy. I'm gonna pulverize your guts. Fuckin drown you with my load!!!" Nick grunted. "Aw fuck dude," Tony growled, "Gonna break you, you little shit! End you with just this fucking monster cock! GONNA FUCKING DESTROY YOU!!!!" Nick and Tony slammed their cocks one last time inside the boy's unconscious body and began to breed the punk, completely dousing his insides with their thick, white seed. So much jizz was shot inside the punk, his stomach bloated like a balloon. About half of the 18 year old's mammoth rods tented Tom's stretched out belly and they could clearly see their heads pulse and nearly pierce through Tom's bulging chest with every jet of thick teen spunk. The two teens moaned in pleasure as they rode our their orgasms. Something about being drowned by two enormous loads caused Tom to cough and seize, but not wake up. Too caught up in their orgasm to care, the two teen gods rammed their 12 inch cocks in so roughly that Tom's head touched his butt, breaking his spine in half. *CRACK!!* "UH!-" the punk moaned, his soft body stopped twitching and went limp. Tony felt his cock brush against Nick's tool, their pricks only separated by two condom-thin membranes in the middle of Tom's body. Their huge teen dick heads touched inside the kid's guts, so close that Tony could feel Nick's cock throb as it blasted cum into the fucktoy. Nick pulled his hips back, adjusting himself before pushing his massive cock deep until he felt the dying punk's heart against his spurting cockhead. He moaned as he felt it pump desperately against his hard meat. He thrust his hips again, crushing the heart between his cock and the punk's ribs. "Aww fuck yeahhh..." Nick groaned. The two muscle gods slowly wound down, their cocks still pumping cum into the boy, as they savored the final moments of sexual pleasure and the feeling of the dead boy's spastic twitches. "That's good stuff..." Tony mumbled. Tony let out a long sigh as his cock fired the last of its spunk. "This is so fucked, I can feel your cock pulsing against mine!" He moved his hips from side to side, rubbing his tool against Nick's, and both of them shuddered. The studs slowly let the dead, cum-filled punk slide off their slick, deflating cocks right onto the bench with a thud. Long strings of cum, hung from the teens' cocks to the punk's gaping holes. Two rivers of white, tinged red with blood, poured out of the cum-bloated corpse and onto the ground. "Shit man. Now THAT was good." Tony smiled and looked at Nick. Nick grinned and flexed his enormous guns and began to feel the rock hard muscle with his other hand. He shook his quads, and lovingly caressed the muscle for a moment. "Yeah..." he shook his head with satisfaction. Nick slapped him a high-five.
  12. MegaMassiveMuscleMonster

    Julia Grows

    Calling Adrianna Stone a phenomenon simply did not do her body justice. She has completely and effortlessly dwarfed even the most muscular and freaky male heavyweight bodybuilders for the last 25 years. She was hulked to the max, sitting at around 400lbs in the offseason. There were multiple men, mainly strongmen competitors, who weighed the same or more than she did. But they were all also usually at least 6" taller, and her 6 foot tall body was much, MUCH more musclebound and better proportioned. She was gaining more mass every year, losing maybe only 20 pounds during her competition prep, always retaining her muscular gains.Every muscle in her body was overstuffed and straining for more growth- and so was her clit. At 8 inches long, it was bigger than some men's penises. Adrianna was a cougar personified. At 50 years old, she spent many nights after her competitions having the young studs and muscle-barbies she'd demolished try to please her insane libido. She was a massive, ultra-muscular behemoth of strength and size, and the entire world looked upon her in awe and lust. The entire human race worshiped the ground she walked on, with a tinge of fear. Tonight though, she was earnestly worshipping the monstrous muscles of the sole exception to that rule. Julia Ingrisano has turned 18 last month. She was beautiful without comparison; sparkling mischief-filled green eyes, silky smooth firey red hair, a dazzling white smile, high, rosy cheeks and kissable, red bee-stung lips. All perfectly placed on her angelic face. Her complexion was near perfect, her Irish and Italian heritages giving her a skin a healthy, soft golden glow, along with freckles dotted around her cute button nose. She fit the expression "face painted by God," to a tee. Julia was also a monster. Despite being just over 5 feet tall, this gorgeous beauty queen carried more than three times Adrianna's already unbelievable mass. Today was leg day, and Julia was doing back squats. She had borrowed a bulldozer from a construction site, and had it balanced across shoulders that were almost twice as wide as she was tall. Adrianna couldn't fit her arms around even one of Julia's gargantuan calf muscles, let alone her thighs. Thighs that swelled larger by inches with every strained rep that Julia pumped out. Erotic, lust filled moans filled the air around the construction site. Every sound from the mega-muscled teen distracting the workers from their jobs as they all stopped to watch this behemoth bulk her muscles up to an even larger more massive size. Adrianna's hands were desperately fondling Julia's monolithic wall of abs. They withered crazily with every breath. Even this freak's individually sliced obliques made Adrianna's gigantic pecs look malnourished. "Get bigger ," breathlessly whispered Adrianna. Julia was shaking from effort. At the apex of her final squat, she let out a high pitched shriek as she powered the machine up over head and began shoulder pressing the bulldozer again and again. Before Adrianna's adoring eyes, this super-human teen muscle-goddess began to add even more breadth to her delts, and lats. Her medicine ball sized pecs eclipsed her face completely, swelling to the size of bean bag chairs. Her traps and shoulders had long since risen above her head, squeezing around it with every press. "Fuuuck." Adrianna had tears and mascara running down her face as she watched this impossible muscle-goddess swell even larger. "I want you even bigger," Adrianna breathed. "You'll never be too massive for me. Grow for me..."Julia let out a earthshaking grunt as her pussy squirted her love juices with a terrifying force that forced Adrianna to her knees. She could have filled a bathtub with her juices. The scent of her musk sending the construction workers into a frenzy, more than a few fell into a lust-fueled coma. Adrianna had an orgasm as well. With her record-setting muscle, and giant fake tits, she was a well known porn-star- but barley worth mentioning next to Julia's titanic size, tremendous beauty and cosmic sexual energy.Julia kept military-pressing the giant bulldozer through her seemingly endless string of continuous orgasms. Her model shaming face twisted in a mix of pain and pleasure, her eyes rolling back in her head as her juices flowed down massive jutting quads and hamstrings.After several minutes, her pussy-lips stopped throbbing, just a little. She shifted the bulldozer into just her right hand, and continued pressing it. Mind-blowing shoulders creaked even broader and higher, her head now smooshed up against them even at the bottom of the reps. Julia was grimacing- or grinning? "Can't stop growing," she whispered softly. Her flood gates opened again, a pool of cum now forming around Adrianna who had fallen unconscious at the sight of such overwhelming size. "What a pity," thought Julia. "I'm just starting to feel the pump." The absurdly muscular beast that was Julia Ingrisano was only just getting started. *This is an adapted shorty story from @powerfulbodies (now deactivated) tumbler account. All credit for the plot is his!
  13. FallenAway

    BOOM! by LORUS

    With the permission of the author, I am reposting a short story he wrote for the old forum that I kept in my collection. The story wastes no time getting to the action. You might want to cover your things with a plastic tarp before you start reading . . . BOOM! by LORUS Alex rushed into the living-room where his boyfriend was watching some Sean Cody porn, his jeans around his ankles and his hand working his considerable rod with gusto. “Dude, check out the guy moving into the old Hanson place across the street,” Alex excitedly commanded Dwayne the constant-jacker. Cute Alex, clad only in white jogging shorts, was already leaking a LOT of precum, what – from just watching a guy from across the street? Now Dwayne’s curiosity was peaked. “Grrrr, no fucker is going to get you in that state and get away with it,” Dwayne resolved, already shooting a sizeable jet of cum into the air. It went up and then arced downward, splashing squarely across Alex’s chest, one he’d built up from swimming and push-ups. “Mmmm,” said Alex, amazed at the fact his boyfriend was constantly horny, constantly jacking-off, and would fuck him whenever he got the chance. Dwayne considered himself the horniest, sexiest super-stud in town. But today that opinion of himself would change forever. Both guys went to the window to watch the spectacle outside. “Holy shit.... he’s huge,” cried Dwayne, his already rock-hard bone getting denser, more ripped with size, adorned with thick veins. His cock was huge, and it throbbed hungrily, steaming with sexual heat. Standing behind his boyfriend but focused squarely on the massive bodybuilder across the street, Dwayne ripped down Alex’s white shorts, and loved how the cock-ring he wore seemed to make his ten-inch cock bulge more hugely. You’d think Alex would have loosened up in his anus, having been fucked so many times by sex-mad Dwayne, but not so. Alex’s hole was always nice and tight. The boys loved it like that, and Dwayne, his shaft dripping with his own precum, lashed into Alex’s wet hole, an organic version of a jackhammer... in and out with tremendous vigour, Dwayne’s fervour unrelenting. “Jeezus, he’s the biggest bodybuilder I’ve ever seen, even bigger than Mike Hugeman the Muscle Whore. He must be over 800 lbs.,” Alex gasped, pushing backward against Dwayne’s vigorous invasion to maximize the force of this stand-up-fuck. “Fuuuck, he’s lifting that piano out of the truck like it was made of feathers,” Dwayne – pounding Alex’s hole repeatedly – exclaimed as his lust got stronger and stronger. “Yeah, and the removal guys are... holy shit... he’s making them strip off their overalls.... nah ...they’re not gonna.... unngh .... that’s great..... harder you bastard.... fuck me to death,” enthused Alex, torn between focusing on the super-huge muscleman across the street – getting the delivery guys so turned on – and being ridden by Dwayne who suddenly discovered that he could focus on both actions, and believed that the arrival of the bodybuilder had intensified his need to fuck and cum. The heat suddenly generated by the voyeurs caused a nearby potted plant to wilt. “Yeah... he’s making them wank their dicks alright.... dayum .... I want him. He MUST get fucked by my massive cock. We could.... unngh.... have an orgy.... Omyfuckin’god.... he’s flexin’ right out of that sexy muscle shirt, lat-spreading like he’s spreadin’ wings to take off,” cried Dwayne, both men now so caught up in one of the best sexual moments of their relationship. Buttons pinged off the bodybuilder’s shredded shirt, flying in all directions with force enough to shatter windows nearby. “Mmmmm, he looks like Jay Cutler, and a bit like Craig Titus, only five times their combined sizes. Wow, look at the size of the bulge in his denim cut-offs. He’s a super-enormous, mega-muscled farm boy,” gasped Alex flexing his buttocks as hard as he could, tightening his hole against Dwayne’s meaty raping. “Awwww man, the delivery guys are hot too, they look like bodybuilders now that they’re naked in the street. Their cocks are big, too. God, they’re strokin’ em hard. Look at the bodybuilder’s lat-spread, awww, his size, soooo big. Man, he must be six feet across at the shoulders... no way... no way.... he’s goin’ for the truck... he’s gonna....aw fuuuuckkk,” Dwayne was lost for words as he pulverized Alex’s ass whilst the massive Adonis across the street began to lift the entire delivery truck in a muscle show of utter power for his cock-stroking naked four-man audience. “His...awwww.....unnngh.... muscles are bulging thicker.... unnnngh...as he takes....the....unnnngh....strain of the truck....awwww....so good, darling.....harder....fucking hurt me harder.....harder grrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!” Dwayne, having just shot a load not three minutes ago, felt his balls filling up with fresh spunk, but he planned on holding onto it for as long as possible. Alex could also keep himself from cumming for ages and ages. They suspected the bodybuilder had more tricks to show them. He stood with tree-trunk legs akimbo and the huge truck’s weight not a problem for him as he hefted it above his blonde-haired head. His grunting was manly, guttural and the delivery guys caught onto the idea of fucking one another whilst watching this hunky hulk doing his thing. He began to pump out rep after rep, lifting a truck that easily weighed several tonnes. “Awwww.....he’s getting huuuger....no way.....awwww fuck...I’m gonna cum,” gasped Alex, trying his best to keep his load in. He spread his legs wider to better anchor himself, his hands high up and pushing against the wall on either side of the window. Dwayne kept on pounding, and he grew mean: “Don’t fucking cum until I tell you, y’fuckin’ sexy bastard,” he growled, wishing his cock could get bigger and bigger inside his boyfriend, so that he could give him the fuck of his life. Across the street the huge bodybuilder got huger and huger.....HUUUUGE by hundreds of pounds in just a few seconds. With every rep of the benched truck, his muscles ballooned many times over, biceps swelling bigger than the chests of his audience, lats rushing outward by a metre per minute on either side of him. He flexed his rock-hard abs, each one swelling larger than the pecs of an Olympian bodybuilder. “He’s fuckin’ beautiful....I wonder...unnnngh.... how big he can get.... aw fuck,” gasped Alex, hoping this moment would last and last and last. The delivery guys suddenly advanced on him as he continued to press the truck over his head, again and again. “Too fuckin’ light for Yuri,” Alex and Dwayne heard the giant bellow. He stamped down hard on the pavement and a spider-web of cracks spread out from the impact, seriously undermining the foundations of the surrounding properties. One of the delivery men was frantically working at the buttons on Yuri’s cut-offs, anxious to get a look at his burgeoning meat therein. The monster cock was a monster indeed, springing forth and the second delivery guy shot a massive load of cum as soon as he saw it. The cum shot out in a controlled jet right into the mouth of the huge bodybuilder. “Mmmmm tasty hot man juice.... moarrrrrrr!!!!!” Yuri slurped the treat, and his muscles grew larger still. He squatted down for a moment, and then, grunting maniacally, shot up suddenly, blasting the truck skyward. It went up and up and up, so high that he put the fucking thing in orbit. But he needed to flex more and more to get bigger and bigger, and he also needed to show off his ever-increasing super strength. “Jump on my fucking arms,” he growled to the cumming delivery men who somehow, in the presence of this giant, seemed capable of shooting inhuman amounts of cum, which Yuri lapped up, slurping intensely. “This is the....unnngh....hottest thing I’ve ever... gasp.... seen,” gasped Dwayne, still able to hold on to his juice. “Awwww need to shoot, Dwayne,” moaned Alex, his hole now red from the fucking it was getting. “Fuckin’ stay put....grrrr. You will shoot when I say you can,” roared Dwayne, and brutally-but-playfully nipped Alex’s earlobe as a reprimand. The biting alone nearly made Alex cum. The growing pressure in his balls was fast becoming unbearable. Across the street the delivery men clambered up the huge bodybuilder, using his enormous, metre-long dick as a step to get higher. He must have been over seven feet tall. The first delivery man was able to stand right up atop Yuri’s massive pec-shelf which jutted out by two whole feet over his abs, casting them into deep shadow. Each delivery man climbed onto one of Yuri’s arms, which he held out straight on either side, in typical crucifix fashion. “Position your sweet assholes on each of my biceps,” Yuri commanded. The smaller men obeyed instantly. “Awww....he’s gonna....unnnngh....fuck them with his.... biceps,” gasped Alex, managing to still hold on to his load. Dwayne kept hammering him, his chin resting on Alex’s shoulder so that he could watch the spectacle outside and across the street. “Fuckin’ mounds must be sixty inches or more right around....unnnngh....bigger....unnnngh... when he flexes them,” said Dwayne his lust ever-increasing beyond all extremity. His thick, massive cock continued to give Alex’s ass a battering. He could go on for hours if he wanted to. Sure enough, Yuri curled up his forearms, fists tightly bunched and sending ever-bulging veins ripping across his arms and body with near-seismic ferocity. The delivery men screamed, their bodies lurching upwards as titanic peaks of mountainous muscle tore into their asses and flexed upwards and outwards to fill every crevice of their cracks. Both men shot tonnes more cum, which again arced nicely into Yuri’s hungry mouth. He gulped and gorged on the thick milk and flexed harder and harder and harder. He alternated between levelling out his arms and bunching up his bicep-peaks, and in what was certain to be a balancing act to rival Cirque du Soleil, hammered those peaks repeatedly into the smaller men’s hungry asses. And as he drank of them, so he grew bigger still, his biceps rushing up to a maddening size altogether. He filled out all over, bicep-pumping the shit out of the delivery men, who screamed in bliss atop his biceps. Then he shot his load. A gush of cum, with fire-hose intensity, shot across the street, smashing right through Alex’s car’s windscreen and out the back window. It splashed up all over the more resilient house window, which didn’t break but instead opened inward, pushing both men back and drenching them in gallon after gallon of milky jizz. Alex shot his load in the process, as did Dwayne. They drank as much of Yuri’s cum as their stomachs could carry. And they also began to grow, piling on a thousand pounds of muscle each in just a few seconds. “Awwww.... this is incredible,” cried Alex, standing up in a room of cum and flexing his new muscles so hard that veins thick as rope flared all over him, his body flashing red from stretch-marks that came and went as his skin healed and adapted to the massive muscles it now covered. Dwayne was the same, but his growth was more centred on his gargantuan dick, the rod now swelled to more than six feet in length, the cock-ring now just metal dust. “Awwww.....we’re gods now. I need to shoot and shoot. But gonna rape that fucking bodybuilder across the street.” Dwayne stomped outside, taking the side off the house as he went. But he didn’t care, for he was beyond materialism, now that he was fuelled only by the lust of having muscles, massive ones, and needing to fuck and fuck and fuck like mad. The delivery men were now gorging on the still-torrential surge of Yuri’s magical cum, they, too, beginning to fill out and grow huge. Muscles bulged on muscles, pecs swelling like inflatable pillows, abs super-striating, biceps melon-balling, dicks thickening and shooting as they grew ever larger. The weight of these giants now began to destroy the street, but most people weren’t home anyway. But being a predominantly gay neighbourhood, those who were home rushed out to get in on the action. Massive muscles came to the street this day... and the fuck fest lasted until well after sundown. By nightfall there were twenty massive musclemen writhing around Yuri – and he the biggest of all – their homes in ruins, deep pools of cum everywhere. Yuri had swelled to fifty feet in height and still he pumped cum without end. He weighed thousands of pounds, every muscle super-striated, each striated segment capable of independent flexing. His pecs were as big as houses now, and when he flexed them they pushed against the air hard enough to create a sonic boom. Alex and Dwayne, both around twenty feet tall and weighing four tonnes each, worshipped their new master and continued to feed him their cum to make his muscles even bigger. The others from the street and the delivery men had passed out from exhaustion and slept around the Alpha-god Yuri who demanded more size, more strength. He just wanted to get bigger and bigger and bigger. He made Alex and Dwayne his chief seeders and fuck-buddies, and Dwayne, now the second sexiest super-stud, fell into line easily. They now lived to fuck and cum and eat each other’s spunk and grow huger and huger and huger. Yuri flexed the most massive lat-spread in all of creation, his heaving man-tits hulking upwards as if to swallow his head. Then he crabbed down into a most-muthafuckin’-massively huge and striated most muscular ever flexed. The shockwave tore up trees and ripped roofs off houses a mile away. “BOOM!” He screamed. The End
  14. musclegin30

    The Muscle Gut Club (A Novel)

    Synopsis: Aron is an 18 year-old muscle obsessed college freshman who masturbates to muscular guys online. His favorite videos to watch are those of The Muscle Gut Club, four muscle gods who make a living sharing their size and strength with the online world. Steven is a muscle obsessed college junior who likes The Muscle Gut Club videos as well, though he hates himself for enjoying something so blatantly homosexual. Life becomes complicated for them both when the club leaps from the cyber world and into the real one. Aron goes down a path that leads to his wildest fantasies, while Steven takes a darker road. There will be muscle worship; there will be sex; there will be humiliation; there will be revenge; and there will be growth. No ones lives with be the same, including those of the club members in this 38 chapter long, muscle filled, character driven story told from 6 characters' points of view. Come and meet The Muscle Gut Club. Chapter One: Aron Aron Ocampo sat in his darkened room with only the faint glow of his laptop screen illuminating his face. His cock was in his right hand, dripping with pre-cum and steadily growing harder becoming so engorged with blood that it almost hurt. A pleasurable hurt. In his other hand, a tube of lotion, ready to lubricate his manhood. On the laptop he watched intently as a muscle stud moved closer to the camera filling more and more of the screen with his immense size. He was standing in a Starkly decorated living room. Clad only in a tiny red poser that could barely contain his bulging manhood the young muscle monster began to flex. His neck was astonishingly thick. It blended into two mountainous traps that met two cannonball delts. His arms were 19 inches around and framed a pair of perfect slab-like pecs that jutted out so far you could eat off of the shelf they created. He struck a front double bicep pose followed by a most muscular. The muscle god was not lean, but Aron didn’t care. He liked his men big and this fine specimen fit the bill. His muscle gut stuck out just past his pecs, obviously stuffed with a large high protein meal to fuel the muscle bull’s growth. Aron began to slowly stroke his erect little cock. The camera panned down to focus on the muscle god’s thick legs. They were like tree trunks. The monster legs were so big they almost made the meat between them look small, but Aron knew that was only an illusion. That cock was not small. He had seen it many times before. Aron stroked himself faster now. There came a knock. The muscle monster swaggered over to the door and opened it revealing a tiny pale twink, so skinny and short it was laughable but Aron couldn’t laugh. He was just like him, a pathetically small and weak boy who could never compare to a real man like the muscle god who made his cock throb with pleasure. “You came to worship me, your master?” The muscle god’s voice was deep and he spoke with authority. “Yes master,” Said the twink, clearly intimidated. He wore nothing, save for a pair of boxers. Aron wished he was in his position and could be in the presence of such impressive muscle. Lucky bastard he thought The muscle god pulled the twink into the room with one powerful arm so fast that the little fellows feet momentarily left the floor. He landed approximately six inches from the muscle god. The twink’s head only reached his master’s chest. He looked like a schoolboy next to a full-grown man. The muscle man’s biceps were bigger than his legs! Aron continued to stroke himself, slower now. He had to pace it just right. The muscle god handed the little twink a bottle of baby oil. “Get to it shrimp,” he said with a grin as he flexed his huge arms. He looked at his muscle obviously impressed with himself. “God, I’m fucking big,” he bellowed. The little shrimp began to oil his muscle master. He rubbed and caressed each body part. The pecs seemed to be his favorite part and he paid them special attention. He got on tippy toes to kiss them up and down as the muscle god squeezed and relaxed. Squeezed and relaxed. The twink began to suck on the nipples making the muscle god moan with pleasure. “Oh yeah, worship my monster pecs.” “Yes master.” The twink’s little cock was growing pushing out the fabric of his boxers. The muscle monster’s cock was growing as well, straining his tiny posers. Aron began to stroke his manhood faster now. The climax was coming and he wanted to time it perfectly. “You worship my muscles well. Now how about you worship this.” The muscle god grabbed his bulge. At-least 2 inches of his cock was sticking out of the top of his posers. “Fuck ‘em,” said the muscle monster as he pulled off his posers with a loud RIP revealing his 8-inch python. “I outgrew them months ago.” “They fit perfectly to me,” said the twink with a smile. “Shut-up and suck,” commanded the muscle god. He pushed down on the twink’s shoulders and the little guy collapsed to his knees. Almost as fast as he hit the ground he had the cock in his mouth and began to suck with enthusiasm and glee. Aron watched longingly. God, I wish it was me. The twink deep-throated the whole cock, sucking it and pleasing it from balls to tip. He twisted his head from side to side working the thick veiny shaft with such skill that the muscle god was high on pleasure. He threw his head back and moaned, “yes, yes!” Aron was stroking his own cock in almost perfect rhythm with the twink’s sucking motions. The spasms came slow at first and then faster. He was about to blow. “I’m coming. I’m coming,” the muscle monster began to shout. The twink stopped sucking. Still on his knees he looked up at the towering behemoth above him. Its cock aimed square at his face. The twink closed his eyes. Aron closed his eyes. The muscle god blew several huge loads all over the twink’s face. Aron shot his cum into a strategically placed garbage can under his desk. Aron loosed the grip on his cock and took in a few deep breaths. Some cum had made its way onto his hand and he was sweating slightly. The twink’s face was covered in a layer of muscle man spunk, thick and creamy white. He looked like he fell head first into a bowl of yogurt. It oozed by his eyes and dripped from his chin. The twink began to lick the warm cum from his face. “That’s right boy. Suck it all in. You aint leaving here until every drop of that cum is in you.” The huge stud placed his hands on his muscle gut and began to laugh as the twink continued to eat his cum with audible MMMs. The screen went black and Aron was left feeling empty now that the video had ended. He knew it was only a 10-minute video when he purchased it for $50, yet somehow he thought it would go on longer, or at least hoped as much. He had purchased the video from the Muscle Gut Club website. The Muscle Gut Club was a group of four college aged men dedicated to growing their bodies and sharing their progress with adoring fans the world over. With a combination of free youtube videos showcasing their lives and hardcore videos on their for sale site, they took the Internet’s muscle fetish community by storm. The four muscle gods lived together, ate together, and pumped iron together. Aron made his way over to the club’s youtube page, and clicked on one of their older videos: Muscle Gut Club Protein Bloat. The whole club was sitting on a huge black leather sofa. Edmund Moreno, the junior competitive bodybuilder, sat on the far left. His dark brown locks fell just to his earlobes His tanned skin and square jaw were to die for. In the middle sat the two muscle bears, the weightlifters, Brendon Lane and Daniel Hogan. Brendon was smaller here than in the video Steven had just paid $50 for. He still had the same mocha skin, short neatly trimmed beard, and bloated muscle gut. Daniel, the Irish American was pale, hairy, and sported a lumberjack style beard. On the far right sat Thomas Patel, the Indian fitness model and physique competitor. He was by far the smallest of the bunch, the only one under 6 feet and 200 pounds, but his 160 pounds of lean muscle packed on a 5 foot 8-inch frame made him an impressive site. Thomas was hairless save for the short, neatly combed black hair on the top of his head. All four of the studs were wearing nothing but briefs (strained at the seams). In front of them was a table filled with high protein delights. There was a family sized bucket of KFC fried chicken, four steak fajitas, a pound of crispy bacon, 8 hamburgers, and a platter of bbq wings piled so high as to form a mountain in the center of the table. Aron was always impressed by the club’s eating ability and this video was over one-year-old. Surely they could eat twice this now since they had all grown. Edmund was the first to speak. He spread his arms wide. “We are going to eat all of this. It’s enough food for 16 normal people, but we aren’t normal. We’re fucking gods.” He flexed his biceps and the other’s followed suite, though his had the most impressive peaks of the bunch. “What are we celebrating boys?” asked Edmund. “My powerlifting meet,” said Daniel. “The success of my photoshoot,” said Thomas. “Being the biggest motherfucker here,” shouted Brandon with a pat of his gut and a laugh. “And I’m celebrated the end of my bulk. After this it’s time to get shredded for my next competition,” said Edmund, “let’s feed these muscles”. At once these half naked muscle gods greedily dove into the food like they hadn’t eaten in days. Bite after bite, so fast it was a wonder no one got hurt. They grabbed and shoved and gnawed in the sexiest spectacle of gluttony on the web. Four alphas feeding their growing physiques, trying to satiate their oversized appetites. The club members began to rub and pat each other’s distended bellies, laughing at, and admiring the damage done. Aron was growing hard again, and so were the members of the club. The gentle creak of Aron’s bedroom door opening startled him. He quickly closed the video. His heart raced. Mrs. Rita Ocampo, Aron’s mother, entered the dim room and stood just inside the door. She wore a silk night gown and a tired expression. “It’s 1 am,” she said. “Yeah.” Aron did not turn around. He slyly slid his cock back into his pants. “What were you doing Aron?” “Nothing! Just getting ready for bed.” Aron closed his laptop and turned around with a pout. “Can you knock next time mom. You know I’m old enough for some privacy.” His room had no lock. Parent’s rules. “You still live under my roof.” Not for long. “But I will knock next time,” She said, rolling her eyes. When his mother had gone Aron took a deep breath. One of his biggest fears was his parents discovering him watching gay porn or any material that could be seen as homoerotic in nature. Aron discovered he was gay, or rather accepted the fact, when he was 16. His parents had no clue to their son’s true nature as far as he knew and Aron did everything he could to keep it that way. His parents did not approve of the lifestyle and considered it a terrible sin. He had had hopes of sitting his parents down on his 18th birthday and telling them the truth, but his 18th came and went 2 months ago with not a peep. Instead he remarked to a classmate, within earshot of his father, how hot his neighbor’s 19-year-old daughter was, all in an attempt to keep the façade intact. It doesn’t matter. In a month I’ll be in college, free to do what I want and be what I want. Aron smiled at the thought as he crawled into bed, before drifting into a dream land populated with muscle men. Chapter Two: Steven Steven Hess stood naked in his cramped bathroom facing the mirror. His expression was one of disappointment. In 3 weeks I’ll be back in college with this same pathetic body, he thought. Standing at an even 6 feet, with a flabby 180 build, he not an impressive sight. Clothed, he could suck in his paunch and pass for fit to the untrained but here, standing naked there was no hiding his lack of definition. He grabbed at 3 inches of flab on his stomach and shook it with a frown. He performed a front double bicep only to discover there was hardly any peak on his 14.5 inch arms. He was disgusted and only grew more disgusted the longer he stared at his reflection. Still he stared. He squeezed his soft pale pecs and flexed his invisible abs. He left the bathroom in a huff and proceeded to get dressed in a pair of blue denim shorts and a light gray t-shirt. Steven sat at his computer desk. A few thin rays of morning sun speckled his shirt, warming him. But Steven did not want to be warm. He got up to turn on his air conditioner and close his blinds, choosing to sit in cool darkness. Muscle Gut Club. The thought seemed to come from nowhere. Muscle Gut Club. An inner voice seemed to call out for him to watch their videos. I thought these urges were gone. I thought I was cured of these sinful thoughts. He shook his head in anger. Steven had first discovered the club’s videos when he was 18, two years ago. He had started working out at the time and the club served as motivation for him. Their early videos consisted of mostly flexing, workouts, and eating. Steven hoped to look like them. However, his efforts proved fruitless. After eight months in the gym he had gained 10 pound and half of that he believed to be fat. Steven came to the conclusion that the club members must be on steroids, that anyone with big muscles must be on steroids. Steven had decided he would never defile his body with such impure and dangerous compounds so he quit that working out business. Still, he continued to watch Muscle Gut Club videos, even as they grew more sexual in nature. Where once the club would do a video fully clothed (very tight clothes of course) they would now do them in boxer briefs. Steven masturbated to several of their videos, especially the ones focused on Edmund, the bodybuilder. I’m not gay. I’m not gay. I’m just hormonal and young. Everything makes me horny. There’s nothing wrong with this he would tell himself. The more he said it, the less he believed it until he forced himself to stop watching Muscle Gut Club videos once and for all. His abstinence lasted all of a week when he discovered that he went to the same college as the club. There videos were filmed off campus in a private home so there was nothing in them to give away the location. There was no hiding their faces, though. Steven was walking to the dining hall and the four muscle gods walked towards him, Brendon, Thomas, Daniel, and Edmund, Oh Edmund. From that point on Steven was at war with his homosexual desires. Now he sat in is dim room faced a decision. Listed to the voice: Muscle Gut Club or fight it. He chose to listen. I’ll stop tomorrow. It’s no big deal. Steven opened his laptop and immediately went to the clubs YouTube channel. He would not pay for one of their videos. He scrolled through and selected the video titled “Edmond Dominates Benny the Twink.” He stopped himself. No, no. You’re not a faggot Steven. Stop this. Yes, you are. You’re just a muscle loving faggot who’ll never have any muscle of his own. No I’m not, I have a girlfriend. Yes, you are, she’s just a cover. No I’m not! Steven slammed the computer screen shut. “Goddammit,” Steven shouted as he bolted up from his desk. Pacing the room, he hummed to silence the voices making war in his head. Steven had just woken up but now he eyed his bed, contemplating it. Rest may help me. I’ll just close my eyes. He slid under the covers. In no time he was lost in sleep and a dream took him. Steven could not tell where he was, outside or in. A dry fog surrounded him and obscured the boundaries of his vision. Is it day or night? He lay on scarlet satin seats in black pajama bottom with no top. A roll of soft fat curled over the pajama’s waistband as he leaned up to further survey is surroundings. The bed was so large that the edges of it were lost in the fog. The thought to roll entered his mind and so he did it. He rolled and rolled like a child in the grass but stopped when he realized he would not reach the end. He peered deep into the fog. A shadow seemed to take form in the haze. It moved towards him, slowly. “Hello,” Steven called out. No reply. Still the shadow moved closer, growing larger and clearer. “Hello,” he called again. “Where am I? What is this place?” Again there was no reply. The figure was nearly upon him. It was clearly that of man, tall with broad shoulders. The fog seemed to part before him and Steven saw his face. It was Edmund Moreno. His chiseled jawline could have been carved from stone. Edmond stared at Steven with is light brown eyes. His lips formed a cocky smile. He wore a charcoal grey suit with a white shirt unbuttoned at the top. A gold band was on his ring finger. Steven looked at his own hand and found a matching gold band that he had not noticed before. His heart skipped a beat. Edmund’s arms stretched the fabric of the shirtsleeves. His brood chest pulled at the material around the buttons. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and pealed it off his massive frame, then slowly undid each button on the white shirt, working his way lower until he had revealed his washboard abs. Steven had grown completely hard. He pushed his boner down in shame but the iron hard cock was too rigid. It could not be tamed. The muscle god flexed his biceps and ripped open the shirtsleeves along the seam before throwing the shirt into the fog. He motioned to undo his belt and as he did so his meaty pecs bounced with ever movement of his arms. Steven was now jerking off furiously to quell his raging boner. Edmund lowered his pants revealing meaty, striated thighs, and an impressive cock. It was thick, veiny and clearly rock hard but it was so large it hung low and heavy under its own weight. Every part of him was impressive. Steven salivated and rose to his knees, still beating his meat. Suddenly Edmund lunged forward, stopping just short of forcing Steven back. His mammoth manhood knocked Steven in the face. It was more impressive up close, truly a beautiful sight. Steven took it into his mouth and began to suck. He sucked with passion and desire as if there was nothing else he wanted, only that cock, only that moment. He stopped stroking his own cock and concentrated solely on the Stud standing above him. Edmund grabbed Steven’s hair and pushed his head further onto his muscle god cock. Steven gagged. His eyes filled with tears of pleasure. The rhythmic throbs came all at once. Edmund blew a forceful load into Stevens mouth, filling it with thick, warm, salty spunk. He swallowed it all with gusto and squeezed every last drop from that cock. When he was through he looked up at the muscle stud. Steven asked, “Got any more?” As if in answer Edmond bent over and picked Steven up with no obvious show of effort. He turned Steven over and ripped of the pajama bottoms, revealing a pale white ass that contrasted sharply with his own tanned skin. Edmond spit on his cock. Steven’s cheeks were parted by the massive manhood and his asshole was stretched to its limits. Edmund began to pound his ass with ferocity. Steven moaned in pleasure with each thrust. “More, more,” Steven screamed. Edmund blew his second load filling Steven’s ass with his seed. “Don’t stop!” Steven was breathing heavily. He turned and Edmund was gone. He was alone again with nothing but satin sheets and fog. All at once he heard a voice beside him. “Did you enjoy that faggot?” He turned toward the voice and was staring himself in the face. “Did you enjoy that faggot?” the voice repeated in echo. Steven woke with a start. He lay in his bed covered in a cold sweat. His manhood was rock hard. A feeling of disgust filled him, disgusted with himself, with that dream, no, nightmare. I’m not a faggot. I’m not a faggot. I’m not a faggot. He repeated the mantra as he got out of bed to carry on with his day. Three: Aron He struggled to lift his packed suitcase from the trunk of his parent’s SUV. It weighed 50 pounds, half his weight. His father, Mr. Efren Ocampo, helped him. Efren was a man of slight build and medium height, the same height as his wife in fact, 5 foot 8 inches. Both were taller than their 5 foot 5 inch son. “Son, you take this one.” He handed Aron a smaller bag and took the larger one himself. “It looks like those people are welcoming Freshmen,” said Aron’s father as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Come on honey.” Mrs. Ocampo sauntered up to stand by her husband. She wore large black sunglasses and a wide brimmed hat. It was an oppressively hot August day with not a cloud in the sky. The family began to walk toward the welcoming committee. Aron hurried in front of his parents, his arm straining under the weight of the ‘light’ suitcase. God I’m so weak. He switched arms and kept a straight face, refusing to show weakness. The welcoming committee in this section of the campus consisted of three girls and three boys standing behind a long table under the shade of a blue picnic tent. The table was covered with boxes containing shirts, hoodies, mugs, pens, and notebooks, all with the University logo. “Hi!” A girl said, beaming, as Aron surveyed the table. She wore a yellow t-shirt that read “Welcome Freshman” and her name tag read “Alyssa”. “We’ve sure got a hot one for moving in don’t we? So tell me what dorm you’re in and I can direct you- what’s your name?” “Aron.” She extended her hand and Aron shook it. He used the opportunity to put his bag down and rest his arm. “I’m Alyssa.” “Hi, uh, Alyssa. I’m in Jefferson dorm.” “Go down that path, past a big tree, make a right at the statue, and keep going straight. You’ll hit Jefferson. You can’t miss it.” She gesticulated wildly as she spoke. Mrs. Ocampo leaned on the table once Alyssa was finished. “The dorm has air conditioning right? Please tell me it has air conditioning. When we came for orientation they only showed us the new dorms and they have air conditioning, but I wonder if they are hiding something.” Mrs. Ocampo pulled her sunglasses down and stared Alyssa square in the eyes. “Well I know they added air conditioning to all the dorms 5 yrs ago but sometimes in the older dorms like Jefferson it can be a little iffy.” “Fair enough.” Mrs. Ocampo replied. Aron and his family followed Alyssa’s directions and arrived at the Doors of Jefferson. All of them were sweating profusely. Aron looked up the mammoth structure. Jefferson stood five stories and was in the shape of a huge capital “H”. English ivy clung to a brick façade and well-pruned cedars framed the main entrance. Aron had read that the first floor was all boys, the second, all girls, and the last three were co-ed. His room was 312, a co-ed floor to further his illusion of heterosexuality. In Jefferson’s main hall the Residential Assistants handed out the room keys as well as a pamphlet of rules. “Stay cool,” said a male RA as he handed Aron his key. “All even numbered rooms are on the left.” Everyone’s so friendly. I’m going to like it here, Aron thought. The building had no elevators and by the time the family reached the third floor they were all exasperated from the combination of carrying luggage and the heat. Aron opened his room door and saw that his Roommate was already present and had claimed the left side of the room. He was a tall, athletically built and Chinese. Aron remembered his name was Jason Ho and thought he was kind of cute. After a quick introduction (very quick, Jason was not the talkative type) Aron unpacked his bags and the Ocampos left for Walmart to pick-up a few things Aron would need, storage containers, an alarm clock, laundry hamper, lamp, and a small television. With Aron’s room all set up the Ocampos enjoyed one final family meal at a local restaurant, though Aron would have been satisfied had they left immediately after returning from Walmart. “That Alyssa was pretty cute, huh?” Mr. Ocampo said as he cut into a medium rare steak. “I saw the way you looked at her.” Aron had looked at her funny because of her over the top hand gestures. “I think she’s an upperclassman dad.” Aron replied. He couldn’t believe his father was playing matchmaker on his first day in college. “So what. There’s nothing wrong with an older woman.” “Efren!” Mrs. Ocampo snapped. “He’ll be focusing on school his first year. Romance later.” “I was just messing with him honey.” After the meal Aron’s parents dropped him off on campus. His mother had tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. “Call once a week,” she said. “We’ll miss you.” “If you need any money just call son,” said his father “Have fun and we love you, and learn something.” He hugged and kissed his parents and watched them drive off. Free at last. Free at last. Aron wasted no time exploring the campus. He had seen very little of it on orientation day and was curious to see everything it had to offer. It covered 1200 acres and Aron intended to cover as much of it as possible before dark. He was relieved that clouds had rolled in after lunch causing the heat to subside some. Jefferson dorm overlooked the East campus dining hall. Aron found it drab. It looked like a restaurant that had not been redecorated since the 80s. Not much food was available since Aron had visited between meals, but the food that was available (pizza, chicken tenders, mixed vegetables, and French fries) looked edible enough. As Aron walked down the campus’ main path (called Scholar’s Way) toward the heart of the campus he took in the sights and sounds of college. Students played ultimate Frisbee in an open field. Girls sunned themselves on towels discussing their summers. Two shirtless guys jogged by him and he tried his hardest not to stair too long. A hipster played his guitar under an oak tree. Aron didn’t recognize the tune. It hit all at once. A rush through him down to his bones: the realization that he would be living there with thousands of other students for 3 ½ months (until winter break). New friends. New experiences. And he was ready. He stopped in the center of the path and looked up at the clock tower of the student union. It was 2:30pm and in that moment he vowed not to waste his time in college. He wasn’t going to live life through a computer screen in some dark room. He would have real experiences: a real life. His lips lifted into the largest goofiest smile. He couldn’t remember the last time he smiled in earnest because he was happy and not just to cover his true feelings. He lowered his gaze from the clock tower and in an instant his smile was gone. In its place was an expression of shock. In the distance he saw a familiar shape. A hulking figure moved through the crowd. It couldn’t be. Could it? No. It couldn’t be him. Aron had to be sure. He ran through a crowd of students bumping into some. With rushed apologies, he pushed past them. His quarry was large, not easy to lose track of but Aron’s small stature meant that he could hardly see over other students. He had to be quick and luckily he was. The crowd grew thick the closer he got to the heart of the campus, the food court in the student union. Aron followed his quarry into the food court. He had heard they served much better food than the dining halls and the large crowd seemed to support this. There were several students taller than the one he was following but none wider or more thickly muscled. He wore a red tank top and white shorts with sandals. red certainly is his color. The food court was arranged in two sections. First a semi-circle with various eateries crammed side by side: a taco place, a bakery, a sub shop, a Chinese place, a smoothie stand, and a pizzeria. The second was a rectangular hall with tables of various sizes. His quarry stood in line at the sub shop and Aron positioned himself in line at the taco place, close enough to see him but far enough away not to be noticed. His heart raced as he looked to catch a glimpse of his face. Mocha skin and a well-trimmed beard. He had all the features. It was Brendon Lane. If Brendon goes to this school then the whole Muscle Gut Club must go here as well. Aron felt faint. He left his line without buying anything and made his way to the tables, choosing a seat in the corner that was obscured buy a support column. He felt like a creeper as he watched Brendon get his food with fascination. Apparently the appetite he displayed in his videos was not for show. He ordered two 12 inch sub sandwiches, and a giant size chocolate chip cookie from the sub shop, as well as a milkshake from the shake stand (apparently they offer to add protein powder to your shakes for an extra dollar, an option Brendon took). Brendon sat at a table by himself just within Aron’s sights. He ate with gusto and consumed all of the food within 10 minutes. Aron timed him. When Brendon rose he rubbed his distended muscle gut and smiled before exiting the food court. Aron had a choice to make, follow or not. It had long been Aron’s fantasy to meet the members of the muscle gut club. Now he had that opportunity. Should I take it? He masturbated himself raw to them. He had seen them all naked. What would I say to them? Hey, I like your cock. No. He knew he would probably be speechless, but still… I have to try. Aron rose and ran from the food court. He caught site of Brendon in the distance. Taking a deep breath, he set off behind him. Exploring the rest of the campus would have to wait. Four: Brendon He pushed the weight up with little effort for the fifteenth time. 250 pounds was just a warm up for him now, but two years ago as an 18-year-old freshman it would have been a struggle. At 18 he had been working out for 3 years (seriously for only half that time) and had developed a lean aesthetic physique that could have been the envy of any fitness model. He liked his abs. He liked his striations but he liked seeing the weigh on the bar go up even more. That year something in him clicked and strength not aesthetics became his main goal. Now he lay on the bench in the Muscle Gut Club’s private gym a stronger more robust version of his 18-year-old self. In two years he had grown 2 inches in height and gained 50 pounds. At 6 foot 3 inches and 230 pounds he had no abs but he didn’t care. He was stronger than he’d ever been and only wanted to grow in strength. Bigger. Stronger. Better. He was on a forever bulk. Brendon stood up from the bench. He wore a blue stinger that covered so little of his upper body that he might as well have been shirtless, and black compression shorts that could hardly contain his squat-grown ass. He picked up two 25 pound plates like they weighed nothing and added them to the 250 pounds already on the bar. He proceeded to bench the weight. One rep. Two reps…by the Tenth rep he was breathing heavy, but he managed to crank out two more reps before racking the 300 pounds with a loud clang. Still too light. His cock stirred at the thought. If he could do more than eight reps of a weight he knew he had to go heavier. After a three-minute rest and a drink of BCAAs he added a 10-pound weight and a 2.5-pound weight to each side. The bar now weighed 325 pounds and after a deep breath he lifted the bar. His arms shook slightly but he managed five reps with perfect form. He racked the weight and sat up slowly. Beads of sweat formed on his temples and trickled down the side of his face. His pecs were pumped full with blood (as was his cock). He rubbed them and bounced them, enjoying the sight of himself in the mirror. “Having fun?” A voice interrupted his self-muscle worship session. Daniel Hogan stood at the door with a cheeky grin. “Lifting heavy without a spotter again. You’re asking to get hurt.” Daniel moved closer to him. “I’m not pushing myself too hard.” Brendon said. “You should be if you’re gonna beat me at the meet” Daniel flexed his arms as he spoke. Brendon laughed then said, “First you’ll have to get up to my weight class and I warn you I’ll be heavier by the end of the year.” At 6 foot 1 inch and 215 pound Daniel did not have far to go. “I hadn’t planned on competing in your weight class.” Daniel looked at himself in the mirror before picking up two 60 pound dumbbells and curling them. “Aah, you’re too scared to compete head to head so you plan to dominate in a lower weight class. But tell me how’s our bet going to work. I thought the person who beats the other has to pay $500-” Daniel interrupted him. “No, my idea was the one who wins their weight class pays the other $500. Brendon shook his head and smiled. “Tell me Dan,” Brendon began, “What happens if we both win in our weight classes, or we both loose.” Daniel stopped curling and looked his friend dead in the eyes for a second. He pushed his lower lip out, squeezed his eyebrows together and moved his eyes rapidly from side to side as he always did when deep in thought. “Well I guess of we both win or lose then there’s no bet then is there?” “Guess not,” said Brendon, laying down on the bench. He didn’t really care about the bet. “Since you’re here and so worried about my safety, spot me on my pr.” “That’s a personal record for you?” Daniel pointed at the bar. “That only 325.” “No, you’re gonna make yourself useful and add 50 pounds to it. Thanks” “You’re fucking annoying,” Daniel said with a laugh. “I know.” When the weight was set Brendon took several deep breaths and grabbed the bar. Daniel placed his hands under the bar. “You got this man, light weight, light weight,” he said. Brendon lifted it with a deep grunt. Every muscle in his upper body tensed. He lowered the weight slowly to within one inch of his chest. When the time came to raise it he stalled. Don’t let the weight beat you. Beat it. Daniel began to apply upward pressure on the bar, but Brendon frowned at him and he immediately let loose keeping his hands a half inch under the bar. Slowly Brandon began to raise the 375 lbs. He flared his teeth and half way up stalled once more. Daniel touched the bar again. “No help” grunted Brendon. “Dude you’re going to pop something.” “No help!” He raised the bar further. Yes. Bigger. Stronger. Better. He completed the rep with a howl. Daniel cheered. After racking the weight Brendon sprung up from the bench. Daniel grabbed his arm and shook him. “375 fucking pounds man.” Brendon grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Who’s the man? Haha.” His head was in the clouds. He had hit a new personal record: The heaviest in the club. He peeled off his stringer and began to flex in the mirror. Daniel joined in. “That got me hungry.” Said Brendon “You’re always hungry.” Replied Dan That was true and he knew it. He was a bottomless pit, hungry for size and power, and he fed his appetite whenever he had the chance. “Want to get something to eat?” Brendon asked. “Nah, I just ate a pizza.” Dan rubbed his slightly distended muscle gut. “Ok. Peace, I’m out.” Brendon left the gym shirtless, carrying his stringer in his hand. He could feel Daniel’s eyes watching him as he left. No doubt he was ‘miring. Brendon had already eaten 6 scrambled eggs, 4 slices of bacon, 4 pieces of toast, and 2 bananas for breakfast, as well as a gainer shake just before his bench pressing session, but that didn’t stop him from stuffing himself at lunch. He ate two whole subs, an oversized cookie, and a milkshake in the student Union food court. On an average day he could consume 6000 calories and he certainly needed them. He lifted weights 6 days a week in the morning, focusing on a major lift or body part each time. 4 days a week in the afternoons he performed strong man style lifts for 2 hours: moving logs, farmer’s carries, tire lifts, atlas stones and the like. Today was one of those days. He decided to go home and take a nap to sleep off the meal. Then he would have another shake before heading to the Strong Man Center downtown. As he walked away from the Student Union, he felt a light tap on his shoulder and turned to find a short thin boy looking up at him. The little fellow had peanut color skin, almond shaped eyes, and black hair. He appeared to have some Asian origin. A freshman no doubt, lost. “Yeah. Can I help you?” The little fellow looked away when he caught Brendon’s gaze, then in an instant his eyes darted back to meet Brendon’s. He seemed nervous. “I…uh…my name is…I just want-” Brendon was growing impatient. “Are you lost?” he asked, uninterested. “No.” “Need help finding something?” “No.” There was a moment of silence. Jesus. What’s wrong with him? “Well it was nice meeting you,” Brendon said, sardonic. “But I got places to be.” “I like your videos!” The little guy blurted it out suddenly as Brendon turned away, louder than necessary, and so quickly the words blended together. “What?” Brendon raised his eye brows. “The, uh, Muscle Gut Club videos. I really like them, like… a lot.” The little fellow lowered his eyes to the ground as if he had admitted to grave sin and was now ashamed of himself. Brendon looked him over for a minute, before bursting out in laughter. He placed a large hand on the little guy’s shoulder and patted him so hard his frail body nearly keeled over. “Sorry about that, little guy, sometimes I don’t know my own strength.” Brendon had a huge grin on his face. “Why didn’t you just open with that? I love meeting fans. It doesn’t happen too often. Most of them live too far away and it’s not like we give out our address since a lot of them are creepers if you know what I man.” The little guy managed an awkward smile. He looked relieved. “Kid, you looked like you were worried I’d eat you, haha.” And I probably could if I was hungry enough and you were the only thing around. “So what’s your name?” Brendon continued. “Aron Ocampo.” “So if you want a private muscle video its $50 for half an hour, $100 if you want me to get naked.” “Actually I just want to meet the whole club,” said Aron. “I love big guys and it would be an honor to serve you all. I would work for you all and my only payment would be the pleasure of being around all that muscle. I know it might sound lame and if you want just say no.” Aron lowered his eyes once more. Brendon could hardly believe it. The club had a house boy the previous year, Jason Meed, but after being inspired by the club he traded in his twink physique and submissive personality for a muscle bod and dominant cocky bravado. He soon clashed with the club and had to go. Now a new one had fallen into his lamp. He was cute enough, seemed submissive enough, and he clearly loved muscle. What more can I ask for? “It’s not lame at all,” Brendon said squeezing Aron’s bony shoulder. “Say, how tall are you and your weight?” “I’m 5, 3, 101 pounds.” Brendon tried to contain his inner joy. The Perfect size for lift and carry videos. “Give me your number. I’ll call you when the club is ready to meet.” When Brendon was finished putting the number in his phone he shook Aron’s hand, perhaps squeezing it a little too firmly considering the little guy’s grimace. The two parted ways and both were smiling as they did so. Five: Aron He sat in his dorm room, half present and half absent. His body was there, yes, but his mind was elsewhere. Brendon had said he would call when the Muscle Gut Club was ready to meet him. The first day he waited with excitement hoping he would get the call that night. It didn’t come. The next day his phone rang and his heart skipped a beat. To his dismay, it was only his mother checking in. The third day classes started and he had to walk from one end of the campus to the other to reach them all. He hoped in doing so that he would run into Brendon again or some other member of the club. No such luck. Now as he absentmindedly stared at his computer screen he wondered Did the club not want to meet me? Was Brendon just toying with me? It hurt to think about it. His roommate, Jason Ho, sat in the room as well, earphones on and head in a calculus book. Aron had learned very little about him in the past few days, aside from the fact that he was a Biology major from upstate New York who was crazy about some band he had never heard of. He had eaten with Jason once and after getting no more than three sentences out of him decided he was better off eating his meals alone. Jason didn’t mind. Aron heard a knock on the door. He turned to answer, but Jason leapt from his bed and beat him to it. Four Chinese looking students, 2 boys and 2 girls entered into the room. Hugs were shared, kisses given, and hands shook as Aron watched. They spoke to Aron briefly and he was given a barrage of names he would never remember. He caught them mention a restaurant and within two minutes they were gone, leaving Aron alone. He had several options. He could study, continue surfing the web, go for an evening walk, or masturbate. Truthfully he wanted to do none of it. He had no test to study for and unlike his roommate he was not the type to read a textbook without a reason, though he knew he should. The web had started to bore him. He could only stand so many Facebook posts, forum threads, and funny videos. He had done enough walking to get to class earlier that day. That left masturbation. Masturbation was his old standby. His favorite pastime. It was a stress reliever and form of cardio. In the past year he had only masturbated to Muscle Gut Club videos. It was an obsession. He would do it now but after meeting Brendon and knowing they were so close to him he only wanted the real thing. A video wouldn’t do. He walked over to his bed, removed his shoes and laid down. As soon as he closed his eyes his phone rang. Aron jumped from the bed so fast he nearly fell over. He ran over to his desk and answered. “Hello, Aron, it’s Brendon. When’s your next day off?” “I have no classes Thursday.” He tried his best not to let the excitement show in his voice. “Perfect. The club wants to meet you. Come by at Noon. I’ll text you the directions.” “Ok, great. Thank you Brendon.” “No, thank you,” Brendon said before hanging up. Aron hardly slept that night. Instead he thought of what he would say to the club members and what he would do. The next day he couldn’t concentrate on his classes. His mind raced from thought to thought. What if I say the wrong thing? What if they don’t like me? God, I hope they like me. On Thursday at 11:30 am Aron set off on his journey. He was happy and nervous, so nervous he ate nothing that morning. He only drank a glass of orange juice. The club lived at 43 Stone Street on the other side of town. Luckily between the Campus run buses and the city buses there were trips to and from that part of town every half hour. He took one of the campus buses which were painted an obnoxiously bright blue. It was packed with students heading to off campus housing or going shopping. Aron couldn’t find a seat so he stood in the middle making awkward eye contact with the bus driver in his rearview mirror. His short arms just barely reached the overhead pole. On sharp turns he bumped into the students next to him despite trying his hardest to stay steady. He just didn’t have the weight for it. When he reached his stop he took a breath of relief. He felt like he was being released from a tin of sardines. The ride had only lasted 10 minutes but it felt like it had been one hour. There were no bus stops on Stone street so he had to walk the rest of the way. He took note of how nice the neighborhood was, not rich nice (He grew up in a neighborhood like that), but middle-class nice. Most students who lived off campus rented places in the poorer part of town. The Muscle Gut Club must be doing very well for themselves. At 11:54 he walked up to the front door at 43 Stone Street. It was a white shingled, 2 story Dutch colonial with a yard enclosed by high hedges and a fence. Aron motioned to ring the doorbell but paused momentarily. Nerves again. Surprisingly the door opened. Brendon stood in the frame filling it with his size. He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a pair of black nylon shorts, his muscle gut in plain view. His arms stood out from his sides at an angle, lifted up by his well-developed lats. “No, I’m not psychic. I saw you walking up.” Brendon said with a smile. “Come on in and meet the guys.” Aron took one step in the door and was hit with the strongest odor of male musk he could imagine. It smelled of pure masculinity. He stood still, briefly overcome with arousal. “Any day now,” Brendon called from another room. Aron quickly ran toward the sound of the voice, nearly tripping over his feet. When he entered the room he froze like a deer in headlights. All four members of the club sat in the room on two couches staring directly at him. Edmond was wearing only a pair of red boxer briefs stretched to the limits by his massive quads and by his mammoth manhood. He was looking exceptionally lean. Aron wanted to leap forward and place his hands all over his deeply cut cobblestone abs, but he maintained his composure. Thomas wore a white wife beater and black briefs. His fitness model physique, while the smallest of the four, was as impressive as they come. His shoulders and chest were unbelievably developed. His waist formed a perfect v-taper. Aron swooned at his Adonis belt and at the sight of his large, masculine Adam’s apple. Daniel was seated closest to Aron. He was shirtless and wore only a pair of grey pajama bottoms. He was almost as big as Brendon and the palest of the bunch. His muscles were clearly well defined even if he wasn’t very lean. Daniels hairy chest and rugged beard gave him a sexy lumberjack appeal. Aron couldn’t believe this was finally happening. As he looked around the room all he could manage to say was a shy “hi”. “Guys, this is obviously the Freshman I was telling you about, Aron Ocampo.” Brendon said. “He’s kind of cute like you said,” Thomas looked from Aron to Brandon. “In a mousey way.” The other members nodded. “He looks kind of frail, though.” Edmund said with an apprehensive look. “You’re not sick are you?” “No!” Aron replied, shaking his head. “Sir.” He added. The members snickered and shared glances with each other. “Sir? Haha. What a polite little twink.” Said Edmond. “I like him already.” It was the first time Aron had been called a twink by someone. Edmond stood up and walked over to him. He towered over Aron and got so close that the little twink could smell his masculine scent. It smelled good. Without warning Edmond picked him up. “God he’s so light.” He exclaimed. Edmond turned him on his side and began curling him with next to no effort at all. Up and down, up and down Aron went, 15 times. Then Edmond proceeded to press him overhead 10 times. Aron was in heaven. Daniel stood up. “Let me have a go at him.” “He’ll be nothing for you,” Edmund said as he handed him over. Daniel pressed him overhead several times and then lowered one of his arms, holding Aron overhead one handed. He walked over to Brendon (Still with Aron overhead) and said, “You got a real small one this time.” Brendon stood up and took Aron from Daniel and placed him on the ground as easily as if he were a doll. Aron was now surrounded by a triangle of shirtless muscle gods all towering over him. Thomas sat on the couch smiling. “Don’t mind them Aron, they just like showing off how strong they are.” “Someone get the measuring tape,” said Edmond. Brendon left and within an instant he was back with the measuring tape. “Strip.” Edmond commanded Aron. Aron did as he ordered, not wanting to displease the muscle god. He stood before them in his size small white briefs. They began to measure him all over, gaping, and snickering. “Wow only 11 inch arms, my 12-year-old brother has arms bigger than that,” said Edmond. “Holy shit my arms are as big as his thighs,” said Daniel. This humiliation would have sent Aron crying anywhere else, but from these muscle gods it was a turn on. His little cock stiffened as the muscle gut club poked, prodded, and studied his boney body. “Hey look, he’s getting hard.” Thomas pointed. “Pull down your underwear,” Edmund ordered. Aron again obeyed. Edmond took the measuring tape and held it next to Aron’s little cock. “Five inches and fully hard,” he said, looking around at the club. Edmund whipped his mammoth member from his boxer briefs and held It next to Aron’s “Twice as thick and twice as long.” He smiled with pride. “Let’s face it, though, comparing your cock to an average man’s wouldn’t even be fair, much less to that.” Daniel said as he pointed to Aron’s. “You can lift your underwear,” Brendon said. There was a touch of sympathy in his voice. He must not realize I love it. Every minute of it. “I really don’t care about his cock size. You’ll be fucking him, not the other way around,” Daniel said, “And I really don’t care about his looks since people watch our videos for our looks not the Twink’s.” “Is there a point here?” Edmond asked. “My point is. You say he wants to serve us.” He looked at Brendon. “Well that’s what I’m interested in. Will he be good at his job?” He turned back to Aron. Now was the moment Aron had been waiting for. He had been thinking about what he would say for day and finally he was ready to say it. “I’m gay,” Aron began, “and I love muscle men more than anything in the whole world. I’ve watched all of your YouTube videos an even bought some of your XXX videos. I masturbate to you. I dream about you. I’ve always wanted to meet you. I know I’ll never have muscles like yours. I know I’ll never be able to compare to gods like you, but all I ask is the chance to be around you, to serve, to bask in the presence of your massive frames.” “I will serve you with devotion and without question. I can cook and I will cook huge protein rich meals for you to fuel your growth. I will do your laundry and clean your rooms. If your tense after a workout, I’ll massage you. I’ll wipe the sweat from your brow. If your horny you can fuck me or if you just want a blowjob just say the word. I’ll wear whatever you want me to while in the house. I will truly be your slave and you will be my muscle masters.” Thomas’ mouth was agape. Edmund had a devious smile across his face. Brendon looked flabbergasted. Daniel simply clapped. He looked genuinely impressed by the speech. “Did you have that planned or was it off the top of your head?” asked Brendon. “Uh, kinda planned,” replied Aron, scratching his head. “Get on your knees.” Commanded Edmund. Aron did so. The members of the club got up and formed a semi-circle around him, staring down at him. “Kiss our feet.” Edmund ordered. Aron gently kissed each of their feet. “That’s so a slave remembers his place.” Edmund said. “At our feet.” Said Brendon, cutting in. “Rise,” said Edmond. Aron did so as each of the members struck a front double bicep pose. “Now kiss our biceps.” Aron kissed each of their biceps. “That’s so a slave remembers why he serves,” Edmund said. “He serves because of these muscles,” Brendon said, again finishing Edmund’s statement. “You start Saturday,” said Brendon. “Be here at 9 am to start breakfast. Here’s a key, and bring some stuff to cook us dinner. You won’t have time to go shopping after you get here. You’ll be very busy.” He grinned. Aron dressed. The club said their ‘until next times’ and he left for the 1:30 pm bus. He couldn’t wait for Saturday. Six: Edmund Edmund Moreno stood in his bathroom flexing in the mirror. He squeezed his muscles tight and hit every major bodybuilding pose like he was standing on stage at the Olympia. He imagined the crowd cheering him and admiring his perfect physique. I can’t believe I came in 3rd at the Junior Classics last week. I had the best conditioning on stage and the best symmetry. He had stepped on stage at the Classics weighing in at 195 pounds of lean hard muscle and standing 6 foot 1 inch, but he wasn’t the biggest. The 1st and 2nd place winners outweighed him by 15 pounds and that gave them the edge. Next time I’ll be fucking huge. He felt a hand touch his shoulder. His girlfriend, Bianca Bui, had creeped up behind him and began squeezing his muscles as he flexed. She loved his muscles. “Having fun?” she asked. “Seeing what I need to work on. I could bring my traps up and my lats-” “You look perfect to me babe.” “Well, the judges didn’t think so,” Edmund frowned slightly. “I have a better physique than anyone on campus, but that won’t win the competition. I need to be better than anyone in the state.” He bent down and kissed Bianca on the lips. She was of Vietnamese decent, 5 foot 5 inches, and 119 pounds with the perfect female figure. She wore pink silk pajama bottoms and a white tank top. “I guess you’ll be going on a big bulk.” She said. “The biggest I’ve done yet. I plan on putting on at least 35 or 40 pounds before cutting.” “Then you won’t be doing much cardio…” She pouted jokingly. Edmund laughed. “I’ll always have time for cardio.” He pulled down his boxers revealing his manhood. “I’ll just have to eat a big breakfast after to make up for all the calories I burn. Edmond pulled off her top and cupped her firm breasts. She giggled and removed her pajama bottoms. Edmund kissed her neck while slowly pushing down her panties. He lifted her up and placed her easily on his cock. She moaned with pleasure as he pressed her against the bathroom wall with his muscular chest. He ran his fingers through her hair and took in her flowery scent. “Carry me to bed.” She said between moans. He grabbed her supple legs and she placed her arms around his thick neck, his manhood penetrating her deeply. They fell together on the bed. Edmund moved in her wet pussy with slow steady strokes. She grabbed his horse shoe triceps and clawed at him as he began to pound her harder and faster. Her moans of pleasure grew louder as she began to orgasm. “Yes! Baby! Yes!” she screamed. “You like how daddy fucks you?” “Oh yes!” Just as Ed was about to reach climax he pulled out a blew his load on her face. She began to lap up his warm, creamy, salty spunk. They lay next to each other covered in sweat. Ed’s muscles glistened in the morning light that streamed in from the bedroom window. “Good cardio,” said Edmund. Bianca laughed. “Very good. I’ll go make you that big breakfast,” she said while wiping cum from around her eyes. “Can you walk to the kitchen?” Edmund snickered. She rolled her yes. “I’m used to it.” She got up and walked out of the room with a slight limp. It’s hard to get used to a 9 inch cock. He patted his manhood as he lay on the bed and relaxed. He didn’t know who he liked fucking more: men or women. Really he would fuck anyone as long as he liked the way they looked. He had fucked average guys, muscle guys, twinks, skinny girls, chubby girls, Black, White, Latin, and Asian. Any warm hole for his cock. He had only had two serious relationships, though. One with a guy over a year and a half ago and the one with Bianca. Bianca had walked up to him one night in a bar and asked to feel his arm. Ever one to show off, he struck a front double bicep pose for her. She gawked at his size, and he was smaller then than he was now. She confided in him that she had never been with a bodybuilder before. They fucked that night and had been Fucking ever since. She liked muscle and she liked cooking. Two things that made her perfect for Edmund and the club. Several times a month she would cook for the whole club, but she only had desires for Edmund. She didn’t even have a problem with his bisexuality telling him “I don’t mind if you fuck guys every now and then to satisfy the urge so long as you use protection and I’m the only woman.” Edmond could smell the scent of food wafting from the kitchen. He rose out of bed and put on a pair of boxers. As he entered the kitchen Bianca turned to him. She was topless, wearing only her panties. She often walked around topless when she knew the other club members were out. Thomas was at a photo shoot and Daniel and Brendon were in class. They’d be gone most of the day. “I was just about to call you,” Said Bianca. “Smells good,” Ed said as he sat down at the kitchen table. Bianca began to serve him his breakfast. First she sat a down a six egg cheese omelet with 2 turkey sausage links. Edmond dove in with his fork like he hadn’t eaten in days. While he chewed on eggs and sausage she placed a plate of 3 whole wheat French toasts with whipped cream and berries and a bowl of Greek yogurt and granola in front of him. He wasted no time attacking that a well. She ate two scrambled eggs a piece of toast and a banana. “This is great babe.” Ed managed to say between bites and mmms. Bianca beamed with pride. She loved seeing a man enjoy her cooking. When Ed was done eating he washed the meal down with a tall glass of whole milk. He patted his distended belly. The food baby pushing out his abs made it look like he had a tortoise shell for a stomach. “I won’t be over here much in the next week Eddy Bear,” Said Bianca. “Huh, why?” Ed let out a loud belch. “I’ve got a huge test coming up that I need to study for. When I’m not in class I’ll be studying at my place. Here I might be too distracted.” Her gaze left his face and moved down to his muscles. “Already,” Said Edmond, “School just started back.” “Pre-med,” she said, shaking her head. “It might just kill me.” “With the money you’ll be making I guess the hard work will be worth it,” Edmund said. “After I pay off the student loans.” Bianca stood up and cleared the dishes. She started to wash them. “Don’t,” said Edmund. “You’re gonna wash them?” she looked apprehensive. “We’re going to be breaking in a new house boy on Saturday and I want to make sure he has a lot of work to do.” Bianca stopped, and stared at him. “Is he cute.” “I think so.” Edmund smiled. “He’s smaller than you.” “No way.” She looked surprised. Edmond laughed. “What’s his name?” “Aron Ocampo” “Will you fuck him?” Edmunds face was now serious. “Probably, but I haven’t forgotten our deal. You’re the only one for me baby.” He got up and pecked her on the lips. She looked up at him and seemed satisfied. “Don’t work him too hard baby,” said Bianca. “We’ve got to see what he’s made of. Make sure he’s really a submissive.” Bianca showered and changed into her clothes. Before leaving she informed him that she had fixed his protein shake and put it in the fridge for him to drink later They parted with one final kiss. Edmund put on his workout shorts and headed to the garage gym for a heavy shoulder session. Truthfully, he was glad Bianca would be gone for a week. He wanted to use that time to get to know Aron better. Much better. He hoisted up two 65-pound dumbbells and began to shoulder press them. With each rep he could feel his muscles becoming pumped. He concentrated on the muscle contraction as he watched himself in the mirror. In his mind he wasn’t lifting weights. He was lifting the twink, Aron, over his head again and again. His cock grew hard at the thought of Aron’s frail thin body next to his own robust hulking frame. Saturday couldn’t come fast enough. More to come...
  15. Toro

    Public toilet

    After many years, I am back with a new story. It has been written in just a few hours and not proofread. Sorry for the mistakes, if any. English is not my first language, but I decided to write the story directly in this language in order to avoid funny Google translations. Enjoy it! Public toilet The scorching sun was shining above the corn fields that extended their gold as far as the eye could reach. Bill closed the back door of his lorry and dried the sweat from his forehead with his left hand. Big dark patches were clearly visible under the armpit of his khaki shirt. He had to walk the path that led to the isolated white house for delivering their Amazon parcel and that took him out of the lovely air conditioning of his vehicle. The short walk in the summer hot air had been enough for bathing his overweight body in his own perspired water. Droplets were attached also to the sparse black hairs above his lips like dew falling from grass blades. He jumped into the cab and closed the door; fresh air enveloped his body and gave him chills. Bill grabbed the icy Coke that was lying on the passenger seat and drunk from it with dry greed, emptying half of the bottle. He lowered it, breathed deeply and erupted with a resounding belch. That was better! He engaged the gear and started to follow the GPS for leaving this deserted place and going back to the city. The highway was only a few miles ahead; he increased the speed when he entered the asphalted road and got a little bit more relaxed. He did not like these small country towns; when driving in the dust gravel road he was picturing a crazy killer with a scarecrow mask coming out of the corn fields with chainsaw, ready to cut him into pieces. He adjusted himself in the seat. He had drunk too much Coke and now needed badly to pee. Fuck! Or that was just for thinking about those stupid horror movies that scared him so much? He hoped that there was at least a gas station in this lonely countryside. He was not going to stop on the street flanked by the high corn; no way! He kept driving while the pressure in his bladder increased. He was not the kind of guy that got an erection when in need of pissing reducing the risk of peeing himself; he just needed to go. Hopefully, distorted by the hot tar of the street, he saw something resembling a simple building and some kind of canopy over a gas station. He entered the exit and parked his lorry near the small square building. A big sign covered in rust said TOILETS. Bill sighed, happy with his luck. He stepped out of the lorry; he would have left the engine on for keeping the cab fresh, but what if someone came out of nowhere and stole it? They would have fired him. Better keeping the keys in his pocket. He stepped out into the boiling air. That at least helped him in controlling his need of peeing. A huge open door read MEN; and a long cock was drawn under it as if it was an arrow pointing in the direction to follow. Bill entered the toilet. A strong smell of pee and something else hit him in the face. Smell of musk, sweat and other manly odors. He did not like public toilets. Water was slowly running down the urinals, leaving an orange trail on the white porcelain. At least it seemed the water was still running in this deserted gas station. He stepped in front of the wash basins and opened the faucet; a thin wire of water starting to flow: he cupped his hands, collected some of the water and then splashed his face. He let it run down his pudgy hairless face; he could never grow a hair and that had always made him look younger than his 22 years. He passed a hand in his greasy long black hair, placing it behind his ears. He was not an ugly guy; but he was not also very interesting. Girls simply seemed to ignore him for his being simply the invisible boring guy next door. Not very tall; not very fit. Not funny and not sexy either. He turned around; faced again the urinals. He could have used one since he was alone, but he was always inhibited by them. He had tried sometimes to pee in one of them, but he felt embarrassed when another guy showed to the nearby urinal; he simply could not keep peeing. He was afraid that the other guy could have a look at his five incher and make fun of him. At least, Bill thought that this was the reason why Marlene had left him a couple of years back. She was the first one he had dated; they had gone to eat some pizza and then a couple of more romantic dinners. She seemed to like staying with a simple and quiet guy; but when they tried to have sex in the lorry, he noticed a disappointed look on her face when he lowered his pants and showed her his small penis with a few hairs surrounding his pelvis. They made love and he came after a couple of minutes; six or seven droplets of cum were shot into her vagina. He was sure that she had not had an orgasm. She asked to be brought back home and the following day she simply sent him a message saying that she needed some time and had to think again about their relationship. Bill accepted that. He knew the reason and understood her. He turned to his left. Two stalls where placed against the back wall. Even if nobody was there, he preferred peeing in a closed and comfortable box. He opened the first on the right; he feared that the toilet may be dirty in shit, but it seemed there was only some pee on the border and some other crusty white substance. The smell was strong and was making him feel nauseated. Better completing his task and then leave. He opened his fly and took out his flaccid 3 inches cock. While peeing, he saw that the dirty wall was covered in obscene phrases. “Wanna suck a big cock? Call me at 55678898”; a veiny shaft was outlined beside it. “I am a thirsty cum drinker. Give me your milk! 55467241” was shouting a too open inviting mouth. “Is your ass ready to be wrecked by a real monster? Meet me at the Purple Corn bar. You may recognize me by my huge bulge”. While he kept reading, Bill started to feel dizzy; words were flying around in his head. Cocks and mouths; asses and cum. He felt that he had stopped pissing; his five incher was fully hard and a different sensation was grasping his crotch. He felt as if he was still pissing, but it was not coming from his blade; he looked down above his fat belly. From the head of his cock a big droplet of a glossy liquid was coming out. He contracted his pelvis muscle and another spurt pushed the drop ahead; it started to flow down his shaft. He had never produced so much precum; he grinned. He liked that: the feeling of peeing without peeing; the thick gelatinous liquid spurting out of his piss slit. He contracted his pelvis muscle again; he felt the liquid coming from somewhere deep inside of him, flowing with a rumble along his shaft and then erupting. This spurt was bigger than the previous. “You may not waste that sweet honey”. Bill jumped in his sneakers and turned to the left. In the wooden wall of the stall he noticed a big hole that he had not seen when entering. A mouth and part of a nose were showing; someone was in the adjacent stall. “Come on. Give me that honey; I may give you some pleasure in exchange” Bill felt a strange sensation pulling him towards that mouth. He had never been sucked by anybody. Around the hole there were a lot of arrows pointing to the center and other filthy phrases “Place your beast here”, “Cum into the hole and fill it” He felt that he needed to place his cock onto that tongue. Yeah! It was so good feeling a spongy tongue licking his manhood. The hole was a little bit higher than his pelvis, but he grabbed is cock and place the head against the tongue. It started to move and swirl around his shaft. Oh yeah! Fuck; he needed that. Some bitch sucking his cock. He shook his head; where the fuck that thought came from? He had never had another guy suck him. The guy left his cock for a second and spoke again: “Yeah. I know you can give me so much precum. Your balls are bigger than two avocados and your reproductive system is that of a real bull” Bill felt his balls inflating, being pulled downwards by their own weight. Filling with cum that was sloshing around. Another gush of precum sprayed out of his cock: wires like web attached to the guy’s nose, so thick and sticky. Bill mind was reeling. He remember when his balls started to inflate during his adolescence; he felt ashamed of them at first. He always wore baggy pants in order to hide them; but then he had his first orgasm and it was delirious. His body was overcome by pleasure and it lasted for almost 40 seconds. Then he trained himself by masturbating and holding back the orgasm; and it could cum for 45, then 50 and 60 seconds. When he cummed he could fly in another dimension; his mind was only focusing on the pleasure. Any other problem, concern or pain was forgotten. “Fuck. So much cum you can produce. You are a real cum factory. And those huge balls makes you constantly horny; you can cum, shot out all that milk and then be ready to come again in a few minutes. And cum up to ten times in a day” After discovering that his balls could give him so much pleasure, Bill was always dedicating the afternoon at home, after school, to masturbating. Once, instead of cumming into the toilet he did that in a glass. He could not focus on the action while he was blinded by the orgasm, but when he was finished the glass was full, up to the brim. While the months passed, he discovered that he had to masturbated in the morning, when his bedsheets were drenched in precum, and he was face to face with his morning wood. Then again in the morning, in the school toilet. And then again at home, in the afternoon, in the evening, at night. “And those gonads are obviously producing so much testosterone. And so much male hormones; and growth hormones. That is why you grew so big; sturdy bones that can support huge, monstrous muscles. You are your own roids supplier. You do not need to inject yourself because all the roids are coming from your insides and made you the muscle monster that you are”. Bill body started to stretch; his bones elongated, his spine shot up. From 5feet5 he grew to 6feet. His muscles started to inflated; the khaki shirt was torn apart by the mass growing inside of it. His traps engulfed his neck up to his ears. His sneakers exploded; big toes crawled out of them. His trousers started to rip while his hems and calves grew bigger and bigger. His back was becoming wider than his lorry. Mountains over mountains. Valleys of muscles. 250 pounds. Then 305 pounds. From 6feet he shot up to 6feet6. 375 pound of raw mass. Bill remember that after the first month of his discovery of masturbation pleasures, his teenager body started to change. He started to grow, becoming taller and his muscle started to grow without him doing anything. His father said it was a growth spurt; his mother thought it was not normal and took him to a specialist. Doctors said that his levels of testosterone and other hormones were unusually high. That was when they also discovered his huge balls. They said that they may need to give him some medicines in order to reduce the testosterone levels that could damage his young body. 415 pounds. 450 pounds. His pecs were bigger than pillows and resting on a huge roid gut, where all the abdominals were exploding outwards like concrete bricks. His legs were true sequoia trees, covered in pulsing veins like ivy. His biceps were bigger than turkeys and were attached to basketball deltoids. He was a true monster. “You are the epitome of masculinity, with your bear hair and deep voice. Nobody can tell you what to to. You are the alfa master; the dominant man. All those hormones make you always horny and ready to fuck”. When the doctor touched his big balls for injecting him the first dose of the medicine, he felt something new inside of him. He looked down to that young guy probing his testicles and he got an erection. The doctor raised is eyes and he saw a spark in them, he knew what he needed. He grabbed the doctor hair and pushed him down to his cock. The doctor opened his mouth and started to suck. Fuck! That was so much better than masturbating. He kept the doctor head in place and moved his pelvis back and forth. New sensation grasping his cock and when he exploded inside his mouth he felt that he was in charge; that nobody could tell him what to do. That he could embrace all that extra testosterone and be the man he wanted to be. And when the doctor started to cough, cum flowing from his nostrils and out of the corner of his mouth, he greedily smiled. Bill knew he was more than that small scrawny doctor. And that he could be much more. That is why he got out of the therapy. He left is body grow; joined the football team and became the strongest of the guys. They started to call him the bull, because of his huge balls. He was not afraid of hiding them anymore; on the contrary. He was very pride of them; of filling the mouth of all the student that he could guess from their eyes were open to be facefucked by him and wanted to taste his sweet proteins. When he reached 300 pounds he started bodybuilding; he was proudly stepping on the platform and looking around to those small guys, showing his huge biceps and the big bulge that his balls made in his posers. He was only 18, but he was already a monster. The only thing that annoyed him with bodybuilding was that he had to shave all his hairy body. But when he was not competing and was bulking, getting to 330 pounds of mass and muscle, he left his beard grow long and bushy, and the hair on his pecs and gut increase the dark grooves of his muscles. Voices said he was on heavy roids cycles, but he did not care. His balls could produce all the hormones he needed. By the way, who the fuck cared in a world full of roided men? “But a huge muscle monster like you is not complete without a monster cock between his legs. With that baseball bat you may cause some real damages, don’t you? And you are always ready to take any hole you want” When Bill reached 350 pounds of brute steel muscles, his cock was already a myth at school being a 12 inches monster. Many girls and boys had already suffered the pleasure of being impaled on that pole and being filled with his cum. He was famous for the grunts and screams coming from his room when he was fucking someone. On the stages he was not only famous for his huge muscles, but also for his enormous package. Other bodybuilders were always having glances at that monster, just before being fucked in the toilets backstage. He felt himself a true bull; mounting any man he could sense was ready to be fucked by a true bull. And there were plenty of them. When 20, his cock had already reached 14 inches and he was a 400 pounds muscle bear. He left bodybuilding and dedicated himself to cruise bars and finding guys who could pay him for being fucked. Who were looking for a real monster who could destroy their ass; make them his cum bag. Shooting his seed in them once, twice or more times in a row. Bill felt something constricting his cock. He looked down. His 16 inches monster was filling the glory hole and was becoming red for the pressure. His veins were inflating and pumping. That fucking hole was too small for his bull cock! He grabbed the wood wall with his huge hands and like it was a sheet of paper it split it in two pieces, opening in the middle at the hole level. He threw the two pieces to one side into the bathroom and looked down. Kneeled on the toilet tiles there was a scrawny twink that was looking up to that giant tower of muscle and strength. He made a step towards him, making the tiles resonate under the pressure of his foot. His hairy tight was bigger than the guy’s whole torso. He grabbed his enormous member and placed it on top of the guy’s head; so fucking big that his face was completing hidden under it. He gave some tugs to it and hit the guy’s face. The torrent of precum kept flowing out and bathing the guy’s hair. He had fucked so many guys that he knew this one was going to be a good one. He slid his enormous cock along is face leaving a snail slime. “Do you think you can suck it all?” He asked with a rumbling voice that echoed against the toilet walls. The guy nodded with a satisfied smile and open his mouth. Bull pushed the huge head inside; so fucking good. It was not easy finding someone who could get 16 inches of a trunk inside his mouth. He grabbed the guy head and started to push harder; his cock slid inside of the guy’s mouth and then down his throat. Bull could see the mouth distorting and the throat expanding for making room to the giant invader. That was so fucking exciting! He felt his cock throb and spurt more precum lubricating the tunnel. Bull started to contract his huge glutes and face fucking the puny skull he could crush with only to fingers. His power was so much that the air was glowing around him. His grunts were deep and strong. He grabbed the hair of the small guy and increased his speed; his sword was going into the holster and coming out. In and out. When the cock was half out of the mouth the guy could breathe heavily through his nose; this slut knew how to do suck. Fuck! So good. Bull spurt more precum; with a long trust pushed the whole cock inside and started to growl. The eruption was close: he looked down to the head he was holding; the blue eyes looked up at him as if begging to dominate him, to annihilate him. Yeah! He was the alfa here; the real man. And then he shoot! Gobs of cum flew from his avocados down his monster cock and into the guy’s belly that started to inflate for all the cum. Bull was lost in the bliss of the best orgasm he had had in a few days. He kept grunting, moaning like an animal for 1 minute, than 2 minutes. In the years he had learned how to make his orgasms last longer. He did not care if the one he was fucking was out of breath; he must have thought about that before exciting and challenging the Bull. 3 minutes went by; cum kept spurting like a geyser; belly extending more and more. He was such an animal; lost in his thoughts of being big like a gorilla, with the cock of a stallion and the balls of a bull, while is orgasm was subsiding he was getting more horny. His cock instead of becoming flaccid was getting hard again. He slipped it from the throat holster; the last spurt of cum filled the guy mouth and splashed down his chin in heavy rivulets. The fat log came out with a loud plop, shiny with spit, precum and cum. It smashed up against Bull roid belly reaching the point where is inflated hard pecs where resting on his protruding roid belly. Some gushes coated the dense hair on his pecs. He looked down at the small guy who was catching some fresh air and spitting out cups of cum. He had filled him good, at least from one side. His cock gave a sudden jump at the thought; rivers of new milky precum started to flow down the shaft. He felt his bull balls churning again; he contracted his steel pelvis muscles and pumped more blood in his monster cock; big veins jumped up on the angry red surface. He smirked at the thought of the poor silly guy. Without the twink even understanding what was going on, the Bull grabbed his bloated waist with one of his paws, he raised him and with the other hand he stripped off his jeans as if made of corn leaves. He placed the guy over the toilet; his monumental shadow towered over him. Bull grabbed his hard cock; when he got so excited it was also difficult for him to maneuver the rock hard beast. He pushed it down over the guy’s belly. He was so fat that it covered half of the guy torso and so long that reached up to the middle of his flat white pecs. “Imagine this thing inside of you”, rumbled the Bull. The guy was moving his crazy eyes from the piton laying on his belly and the muscle bull towering over him. The Bull saw lust in the guy’s eyes; no fear, no hesitation. Just lust. He wanted his cock inside of him; the Bull knew when a guy needed to be thoroughly and roughly fucked. He pushed back his giant ass and positioned his cockhead against the guy’s asshole. It seemed impossible that such a beast could fit in such a small rosebud. He contracted again his pelvis muscle and a gush of precum sprayed the guy’s ass. “Come on! Fuck me good!” He did not need to be told: he pushed the apple big mushroom with one trust and opened up the guy’s ass. He emitted a surprise and ache gasp. The Bull grabbed his waist with both hands and pushed more of his monster inside of him: 8 inches went in; then 10 and 12. He could see the snake moving under the guys skin. Crawling up inside his stomach. Fuck! Yeah. He was breeding this bitch. 14 inches went in and finally his huge balls slapped against the guys cheeks. All his 16 inches were buried inside of this new cock sleeve. He rested still for some seconds; the guy looked down to his belly full of cum, pushed upwards by the monster nestled inside of him. That thing was like the alien parasite filling his torso. That was so hot. “Yeah. Fuck me hard big Bull” Bull pulled back his cock and pushed it back in with full strength. Then again and again. The guy was just a flashlight for his cock; the friction he needed for stimulating himself. For squeezing his beast inside of a constraining hole. “Fuck. Yeah. So big; such a monster bull. Your balls are bigger than grapefruits” Bull felt his testicles inflating more and slapping harder against the guy ass. “You have got gallons of cum to fill them” Bull felt his cum mounting and sloshing inside his scrotum. “Your testosterone his permanently pumping your muscle and making you bigger” Bull stretched further up to 7feet; bigger feet and huger hands. His muscles grew more; 450 pounds. Then 490. “Fill me with that 20 inches anaconda” Bull felt his monster cock stretching more and expanding. He grunted like a bull in heat; he was trusting with more violence his cock ramming the insides of the guy. “You are a truck driver running around the country; searching for men to fuck. Men who can accommodate your monster cock and want to be filled by it. There are plenty of them and you are open to breed them all. Cum, now!” Bull felt his huge testicles retracting; he grunted a final time and started to orgasm. His cum filled the guy from the other side; his belly kept inflating more and more and finally cum started to erupt from his mouth. Gallons of cum. After 5 minutes of orgasm, Bull extracted his log from the guy ass. He was sated, for now. The guy was still vomiting cum from his mouth; teary eyes happy with the fuck he received. Bull took his monster cock covered in juicy, cleaned it with a stroke and licked his hands. Then he placed it inside of his jeans, lava against his tight, burning down to his knee. He filled his bulge with the two enormous globes of testicles and buttoned up. He stepped out of the destroyed toilet; 2 inches of cum where covering the floor. His heavy black work boots were splashing it against the walls while walking. He looked at himself in the basin mirror but could only see his big roid belly covered by a white tank top. Dense fur was covering his enormous pecs. He cupped some water in his hands and washed his heavy beard leaving some of the cum that has splashed everywhere over his pecs. He exited the toilet building, walking sideways through the small door. His frame was too big and could not pass walking frontally. A huge red truck was parked outside contrasting with the yellow corn fields. He imagined himself coming out of those bushes, a muscle monster that could have made any guy pee himself for fear and then impaling them on his beast, seeing the huge head coming out of their mouths and spraying cum all around. Bull looked far to the horizon; heavy gray clouds were crossed by ivy of lights. A storm was coming. The wind refreshed his face and sent to his nostrils the heavy smell of musk, sweat and cum. His cock stirred along his left leg. He had to reach the next station in another 3 hours: another bitch was going to be ready to be fucked by the Bull!
  16. FallenAway

    Never Enough Muscle by LORUS

    Once again, with the author's permission, I'm posting a story he wrote for the old forum and later deleted. I saved a copy on my hard drive and wanted to make this available to readers who might enjoy it as much as I do. This was written at a time when coin-operated public telephones were still widely available, so enjoy the trip back to the mid-00's, youngsters. Never Enough Muscle by LORUS Part 1 Dexter Rhodes was a bodybuilder. A very big one. He got this way mostly by acting as a guinea pig for his father’s experiments. At only nineteen years old he was 6’ 5” tall and weighed a solid 640lbs of eye-popping muscle. His upper arm circumference alone exceeded that of his waist by several inches. When he pumped and flexed his chest, he could make a table of his upper pecs. He could crush rocks to dust between his biceps and forearms when flexing. His legs were so big that he could no longer wear pants off the rack. Like all his clothes they had to be specially made. But he was so into the size of his body that he tried as often as possible to go around in the skimpiest of outfits. He was studying sports nutrition at college and money was tight since his father cut off his funding. Dex had to work to pay his tuition and fees, but he made enough money from stripping and doing cam-shows online. That was how he met his current boyfriend Sonny, over the internet during a cam-to-cam session. There was an instant mutual attraction. Sonny wasn’t a bodybuilder, but he still had enough muscle on his Eurasian physique to allow him to make a living as a fitness model. They’d been together for just under a year. They thought about a civil partnership to mark their one-year anniversary. They planned a honeymoon in the Greek islands, possibly Mykonos. Sonny was ripped all year around, thanks to great genetics and the perfect diet. But Dex was a size freak; he simply couldn’t get big enough, and he had to get bigger. He wanted to postpone the wedding and honeymoon until he was at least another couple of hundred pounds heavier. On that beach in Mykonos, he wanted jaws to drop and straight guys to get boners and question their sexuality just by looking at the muscle god. He was huge now, bigger than so many bodybuilders, professional or otherwise. But he needed more muscles on his incredible body before he felt that he truly deserved to be called a muscle god. This morning began like any other: angry, playful muscle worship followed by oral and anal sex. Sonny must’ve had reptilian blood in him, for his body was so supple and almost metamorphic, the way he could open his ass and take so much of his boyfriend’s enormous shlong, almost the entire length of the 12-inch shaft before screaming out in orgasmic ecstasy. And when Dexter made a cream pie out of that delicious ass, Sonny’s ass could take so much jizz before reaching its limit in terms of capacity. The young men were lying back in bed, their bodies laved in the sweat of their exertions, when there was a knock on the door. “That’s odd. It’s only eight-thirty. Who’d be calling at this hour?” Dex had no classes today. Sonny had a photo-shoot later, but they had hours to spare. The huge bodybuilder muscle-waddled out of bed and over to the apartment balcony. He liked to have a naked stretch and a flex in the morning, and because they lived in a predominantly gay part of town, many of the apartment complex’s residents were gay men. Dex liked to think he was providing a service. A lot of his neighbors were single and of different ages. Imagining the fapping that went on behind so many pairs of curtains, binoculars in one hand, dick in the other, made Dex smile from ear to ear. Haha, he also found it so amusing. There were occasions when he would step outside, if only to inhale the stench of freshly spewed cum wafting towards him from all directions. He loved that smell. But he loved the smell of his own muscles even more. He looked down into the courtyard and saw the mail carrier. Was he expecting a package? He couldn’t recall, but the guy looked cute, and he always loved to tease male callers (mail carriers, pizza delivery boys etc.) by answering the door in his birthday suit. Once he’d even answered the door with a full boner, his massive shlong dribbling precum at an inexhaustible rate. There was still semen dripping from his cock, now. Cool, he might convert this guy in a trice. The mail carrier was the same guy as before, a cute Hispanic dude who looked like he did some lifting himself. His uniform seemed a little tight for him, and there was an undeniable shape of meaty pecs impressed into that shirt, as well as nice, muscular legs filling out his sexy shorts. Dex made sure to pump his upper body to its max and bounce his pecs vigorously whilst addressing the mail guy. “Uh... registered letter, sir. You need to... er... sign for it,” said the mail guy, clearly captivated by the size of Dexter’s massive muscles. He blushed visibly and Dex bounced his pecs and flared his lats so much that he had to turn sideways to step out into the hall. His semi-erect cock wiped a sizeable precum stain across mail guy’s shorts. Both men instantly noticed this. “Shit, I got muscle-cum-juice on your sexy shorts, hot stuff. Maybe you can come in and have breakfast with me and my hot male model boyfriend and I can wash that stain out for you,” said Dex, boastfully. It sounded like something out of a bad porn movie. He flexed a single biceps pose, and his granite-peak cannonball firmed up, so huge and round. Still laved in sweat, his shiny bodybuilder’s skin reflected the light from an overhead light-fitting beautifully. Mail guy’s eyes widened with astonishment. Not only was Dex the biggest muscleman he’d ever seen, but he was also drop-dead gorgeous in the facial department. “Er...um...it’s fine, sir. I ruh-really got to guh-get going. The stain’s nuh-no problem.” The mail guy passed over the letter. Dex folded his arms, squeezing his muscle-tits together so that the cleavage created the perfect letter rack. Mail guy was visibly sweating, now, as he gingerly placed the letter between the two sweaty mounds of muscle. Dex then reluctantly signed for it. There was only one person from whom a registered letter would be sent to Dex’s address. Dexter Senior. “Hey, stop flirting with the mail man and come back to bed, big fella,” Sonny called from the bedroom. “Letter from the old man. I almost don’t want to open it. I know what he’s gonna say,” said Dex, his bottom lip trembling a little, a strange sight to behold on one so huge and strong. But it looked like his future depended on what his father had to say. “Want me to read it out to you?” asked Sonny, being supportive as always. “Nah, I need to do this. But thanks, Babe.” Dex nervously ripped open the envelope. In his father’s neat script, the words said simply: “In your dreams, Junior.” “Dammit!” Dex angrily ripped up the letter and then stomped around the apartment in search of something heavy and metallic to bend. Fortunately, he kept a toolbox full of crowbars for occasions such as this. He took out two together and bent them into pretzels. Then he picked up the toolbox and crushed it into a ball the size of an egg cup. He made it seem effortless. Sonny hated seeing his Adonis losing the head like this, but he had every right to be angry. Besides, his body got so super-vascular whenever he angrily bent something. His veins were on the verge of popping out of his skin at this moment. Sonny grew hard again and really wanted to kiss every one of the massive bodybuilder’s sexy veins. “What did it say, honey?” Sonny wanted to hold his boyfriend in that “It’s going to be all right” kind of way. But he knew better than to approach him while he was still at boiling point. When Dex had sufficiently calmed: “It’s a response to what I asked him at our last family reunion... Grandma’s funeral. Last time we talked.” “That was just before we met, yes?” Dex nodded. “You know a bit of the story. I asked him if there was a chance that we could reconcile, bury the hatchet, and I could get reinstated into the program.” Dex’s breathing was slowing as he became less enraged. That was a good thing. Sonny loved him very much, and although Dex would never physically harm him (unless it was a genuine accident), Sonny still knew when to give him enough space. He mentally resolved to visit a hardware store later to stock up on more crowbars. They were running dangerously low. “And it took him a whole year to get back to you? That’s pretty shit of him.” Dex nodded again. He bounced his pecs and they looked and felt so massive to him. They helped to distract him from his current emotional state. “So, what did the letter say?” Sonny now felt it was safe enough to approach Dexter. He put out a hand and Dexter took it in his own beefy mitt. Sonny then began to soothingly rub his 26” forearm. They were monstrously huge. Dex didn’t think so, however. “It was a no. What a fucker. It’s not like I set out to ruin him or anything. He’s made his fortune.” Dex let out a slow, defeatist sigh. He hated being in a bad mood. It wasn’t fair to Sonny. “I’d like to help. But I know very little about what happened with you and your father. Didn’t his research company cure that terrible virus that affected male muscle mass?” Dex nodded dolefully. He decided to tell Sonny the rest of the story. The virus had been nipped in the bud four years previously, before it became a pandemic. It was one of those ancient microbes that lay dormant in millennia-old ice floes which, due to global warming, were released back into the atmosphere by the receding ice caps. The virus mutated and started causing muscle depletion in infected males. Fortunately, there were less than one thousand cases worldwide, and Prof. Dexter Rhodes received the Nobel Prize as the architect of its eradication. Win-win scenario, right? Wrong. Dex had just started bodybuilding around the time the virus broke out. He made great advances in his training in the first year – a veritable teen prodigy – thanks primarily to a guy at the gym who liked Dex enough to take him under his wing and teach him all the techniques and tricks necessary to get really huge. Then Guy Roche went on a trip overseas – something to do with the reading of a will – and started showing signs of the virus shortly after returning. The bodybuilder lost thirty percent of his body weight in muscle shrinkage in just four months. Cases of this started cropping up in newspapers and television news reports. As with other viruses and flu outbreaks, the public panicked. Pharmaceutical companies and the world’s leading scientific minds in medical research rushed to find a cure as more and more men began to wither away. The virus was passed through the air, but only 3% of people exposed developed symptoms. Dex was tested and found to be a carrier, as he’d spent a lot of time breathing the same sweaty air in the gym as Guy Roche. Dexter Senior took no chances. He would use his teenage son to test various serums and anti-viral treatments he was developing. Less than two hundred men succumbed to the virus. Guy Roche, they say, was saved by his muscle mass. He’d been the only bodybuilder in the world to develop symptoms, but the virus liked to attack exterior muscle tissues before launching a final assault on internal organs. Heart failure was the outcome for someone exposed to the virus, but in Roche’s case, he was down to 137 lbs. by the time he began the treatments. He was weak, yes, but alive. In just eight months he’d lost more than half his body weight in muscle mass, mass it had taken him years to build. One month after being declared well once again, he was found hanging from a beam in his basement by a concerned neighbor with a spare key. Dex took his death badly, but his father had already adapted his treatment into an all-out muscle enhancer. In healthy men... especially bodybuilders, the anti-viral serum could help build astonishing amounts of muscle. Since Dex had acted as a guinea pig to his brilliant father’s efforts, it seemed logical to continue trials on him. One year after Guy Roche’s suicide, Dexter Rhodes had ballooned to over 300 lbs. of massive muscle. He was bigger and more muscular than the current Mr. Olympia at the time, and he’d won every bodybuilding contest he entered until he was banned from competing when the secret to his growth became public (as these things are sometimes wont to do). “So, your dad obviously ceased giving you treatments? But you continued to gain muscle, right?” Sonny couldn’t recall when this scandal hit the media. To be honest, he rarely read newspapers or watched television, even to this day. But what are scandals these days, anyway? Flashes in the pan? One day it’s a corrupt scientist growing his own son into a muscle freak. Next day that’s forgotten in favor of Lady Gaga’s latest shocking behavior on stage. “You know pretty much the rest of it. I became a whore for muscle-growth. I just wanted to get bigger and bigger. My dad put this down to hormonal instability. He stopped the treatments, and one night I lost it. I drove his Mercedes out to the nearest lake and then threw it right into the middle of the water. I’d picked up cars a couple of times before, but never to throw one two hundred feet. Pulled a couple of ligaments for my trouble, but I healed up soon after.” Sonny grew hard upon hearing of this massive feat of strength. “Why’d you never tell me all of this before?” Dex shrugged: “I don’t like to remember the shit times in my life, to be perfectly honest. Everything got better after I met you, darling.” He smiled lovingly. “And yet you still gained more muscle. Just from conventional bodybuilding techniques?” Sonny’s cock was now in precum overload. “I stole an entire year’s worth of serum from my father’s personal stock. The modified one, not the one that was made available worldwide. I tried to make it look like a break-in, but my father, already fearing I’d attempt something like this, had me tailed. Since he had to brush all this under the table, there was little he could do, legally, to get me to give back the treatments. And so, he cut me out of the will, my funding... everything. The treatments I stole turned me into the man you know and love today.” Although emphasis wasn’t required, Dex’s upper body burst into a massive full-lat spread, every muscle tensed and bulging beautifully. He was incredible to look at. Sonny wanted to jump him there and then. He thought about making some excuse to the photographer so that he could get out of the afternoon shoot. Just to spend an entire day with his bodybuilding boyfriend. “And now your supply is gone, eh? But you made some sweet gains in the year since we met. And that was after you’d run out of the treatments, right?” Sonny was finding it hard to set Dex’s story into a viable timeframe, he was that horny. “Yes, I have,” said Dex, forcing his upper body into a mind-melting most muscular. His muscles seemed to fill Sonny’s entire visual periphery. For a few seconds he could not breathe for fear he would be consumed and crushed by a massively mutating muscle amoeba. Then Dex added by way of a closing remark to the subject: “But they’re nothing compared to the gains I made when I was injecting. I have to get more... somehow.” Part 2 Sonny seemed lost to his own thoughts, as the hot lovers enjoyed yet another breakfast together. Coffee was a luxury they both allowed themselves only occasionally. Sonny cupped his mug and savored the aroma. Despite the great sex they'd shared earlier, he wasn't much in the mood for eating. In contrast Dexter's appetite was huge, and he was only too happy to polish off any leftovers. "I guess this is all my fault, everything that happened between my father and me," said Dex after some moments of silence. Smiling reassuringly, Sonny extended a hand across the breakfast table where it found Dex's to rest on. "You have a passion for growing muscle. Fate decided to smile fondly on you for a time. You saw an opportunity and took it. You tried to make amends to your father, but he chose not to meet you halfway. He's a jerk if you don't mind me saying." Sonny sipped on his coffee. Dex managed a half-smile. "The more it plays on my mind, the more I grow to accept that what I did was wrong. And now I'm the family black sheep because of a mistake I made." Sonny was quick to jump to his boyfriend's defense against his bitter self-judgment. "Your father started this. You finished it the only way you could, by satisfying an insatiable hunger inside you. A hunger for growth. It was your father's invention. He should have known how it would affect you ultimately." "I guess so," said Dex after some time. "Come to the shoot with me today. Alfonse would love to photograph you. Besides, we can always use the extra money. It'll be fun." Dexter considered it. "Not a lot in my wardrobe for a photo shoot. I really should sort out some new attire. I've just about outgrown everything." Somewhat cheered up, the bodybuilder could not mask his muscle pride. "Doesn't matter. It's a nice day outside. It's an underwear shoot anyway. Wear something tight and slutty," said Sonny as he set about clearing the table. "Everything I own is tight and slutty," Dex reminded his number one man. "Keep talking like that, hon, and I doubt either of us will get out of here today." *** The massive bodybuilder spent quite a while trying to find something to wear. Recently he'd returned from the gym far too many times in a state of extreme muscle lust, his pumps held for an impossibly long time. During these moments Dex would perform hulkouts as much for his own gratification as Sonny's. It had taken a severe toll on his wardrobe. He decided that after the events of the morning, some all-out muscle showcasing was the order of the day. He opted for a trashy mesh string top, which was literally falling apart. He managed to keep it on its last legs by holding it in place with a sturdy set of red suspenders, which he securely anchored to the skimpiest pair of trashed denim cut-offs no huge bodybuilder had any business being seen in. The cut-offs looked more like briefs than shorts, made to seem even more skimpy, given the fact that two enormous thighs blasted out of them, the vast swell of each muscle belly rippling thickly and with ridiculously deep striations in between. Each thigh tapered down to a solid knee which in turn was under siege from a surfeit of unfaltering, huge calf muscle. “You’ll be arrested if you go out like that,” said Sonny when it was time to give Dex the onceover. He was right, the outfit was ridiculously skimpy. Dex only had to sneeze, and that mesh string top would fly apart into so many useless strands. Sonny couldn’t conceal his boner and was so turned-on by how his boyfriend made items of clothing appear like they were about to disintegrate from the sheer pressure of so much huge muscle flexing and bulging beneath them. Sonny went to Dex’s closet and found a trashed denim jacket to go with the shorts. “Waste of time getting that out. I’ve gained about eighty pounds of muscle since I last wore that. My arms will never get through those sleeves,” Dex protested. His mood had brightened. He was well-known around the city, but there were always the tourists to shock with his enormousness. He really wanted to rape the entire city with his muscularity, figuratively speaking. “Not a problem,” said Sonny, who quickly got busy with a pair of scissors. He turned the jacket into a sleeveless vest-style, and because it was a little tight across Dex’s shoulder’s and back, it was impossible to fasten across his dynamic chest. After some further checking-out: “You look like an explosion in a Levi’s factory. But huge, and incredibly hot, darling.” “Not huge enough,” Dex growled, the coiled meat-monster inside the pouch of his jockstrap, slowly yawning awake and thickening as it stirred, pushing against four metal buttons with the potential to turn them into four bullets if he wasn’t careful. He blasted out pose after pose with utmost precision, his movements graceful, never awkward, but oh so masculine in their delivery. A wet stain had already formed in the front of Sonny’s cargo shorts. Some seams began to part down the sides of the jacket/vest as Dex flared his lats to delta-wing proportions. His muscle aesthetics were unmatchable, utterly flawless, and awesome to take in at a glance. Dex had grown too large for most cars, although neither of them owned a car. The walk to the tube station from the apartment was a little under two kilometers, plenty of distance in which to strut so much muscle as well as force it down the throats of as many jealous guys in passing as possible. Sonny was a good sport and always played along. It was so difficult doing anything with him – even the most mundane activities – without coming out in a boner. Sonny had had boyfriends prior to Dex, but only Dex could make him super horny like no guy ever had before. Near the tube station: "That guy over there... taking pictures with that big telephoto-lens camera. He looks familiar," Dex exclaimed, bouncing his pecs vigorously for the pleasure of two twinks who'd spotted in him their ultimate walking wet dream in passing. Sonny followed the giant's line of sight to the fountain in the square about fifty yards from where they stood. "So what? You've been snapped and filmed by just about every modern gadget between here and the apartment. What's so special about him?" "I think that's the same guy that... nah... can't be... can it?" "The same guy that did what?" Sonny was growing impatient. His stomach was rumbling, and it was now that he regretted not having solids for breakfast. A bagel would go down nicely just about now. He began to scan for a vendor. "The mail carrier from earlier, the one that brought the registered letter from my father. I'm nearly sure that's him," Dex explained. As if those words had carried power, the photographer by the fountain realized he'd been rumbled. "Dexter, darling, I wouldn't worry. You probably converted him this morning to Dexter's Temple of Muscle Infatuation. He's acting beyond his control, like so many men who fall under the spell of your massive muscles. Blast him with a double biceps. He'll cream himself, shoot off to find a bathroom, and we won't be late for our train." Sonny checked his watch. They would make the two-thirty train if they hurried. Alfonse was not known for his patience. "Hmmm, maybe," Dex mused, although something about this wasn't settling well with him. This day had quickly turned into something unexpected. And no amount of massive muscle fleshing your body out to near god-like status could ever prepare you for the unexpected. They made it to their platform, and Sonny got his bagel en route. There were two bodybuilders waiting for the same train. They were mid-twenties, one Caucasian, the other black. Both had been showing off and owning the platform, until a huge shadow appeared and swallowed up their own lesser ones like some omnipresent and sentient oil slick. They both, suddenly, felt quite inadequate, and they didn't like it one bit. One of them said: "Dude, you're a monster. That ain't natural at all. What shit you on?" Both were dressed in gym clothes, and they looked like they'd both had good workouts. Their bodies were pumped and rock hard, but neither of them looked heavier than 220 lbs. tops. Dexter, as if to demonstrate total muscle dominance, worked some tension out of his neck by tilting his head from side to side. The sound of shifting bones was drowned out, but only by a vagrant playing some sort of wind instrument further along the underground platform. Then Dexter drew back his shoulders, forced out his pecs, and flared his lats to further seam-splitting proportions. Mouths fell agape, not just those of the bodybuilders, but pretty much everyone within viewing distance. Further down the platform the vagrant stopped playing his pipe in favor of playing with something else. Dex moved to within pec-touching distance of the lesser bodybuilders. He was a head taller than one guy, and two thirds of a head taller than the other. He loved being the biggest... but he still had to grow way huger than his current size. He could never have enough muscle. "I'm not on any...shit...dude!!" The massive muscle teen gave the taller of the two a face full of mega-bicep. It peaked at a mind-blowing 36 inches. Some of the color drained out of both their faces when they observed the bulging muscle firm up to cannonball proportions. Probably hard as iron, too. Nearby, a middle-aged, suited gentleman, complete with stereotypical bowler hat, suddenly tugged uncomfortably at his pristinely starched shirt collar before scampering for the nearest public convenience, dropping his umbrella as he went and awkwardly covering up his "embarrassment" with his briefcase. It was time for Sonny to intervene lest Dexter Rhodes take exception to such a remark. "Fifty thousand and his secret's all yours. Not a penny less," Sonny said, stonily. "Fuck that shit. We don't have that kinda money, bitch," said the other bodybuilder. "'Sides, who'd want to get that huge? Dude, you a freak!" The first bodybuilder cracked knuckles with the other before "high-fiving" him. Dexter really hated all that bromance/hetero buddy-buddy shit. He now touched pecs with "Knuckles", and for the lesser bodybuilder it must've felt like he'd been hit by a muscle tsunami. "I think you both need to get another train. In fact, I must insist that you get another train," Dexter said calmly enough. His mind was still preoccupied with the familiar-looking photographer by the fountain from earlier. "Dude, we cool, okay? I didn't mean nuthin' by it, is all. We cool, man." The bodybuilders made a hasty retreat considering the moderately-impressive bulk they were carrying. Sonny's full attention was now back on his boyfriend. He was only three inches shorter than Dex, but he still often got a pain in his neck from staring up at him. He liked to call it his "Romantic Strain Injury". They both liked silly, soppy stuff like that. "They didn't upset you, did they?" "I'm still in my clothes, aren't I? Couple of jerks," Dex admitted. "You seem preoccupied. It's not the camera guy again, is it?" "First whiskey craving in over four years. Dammit why now?" Dex suddenly craved metal to bend. There was plenty of it around, but he wasn't a vandal. "Whiskey? What in the---" "Don't worry about it. I haven't touched a drop since I was fifteen. Bodybuilding helped me kick that particular habit." Trying not to look visibly upset, Sonny voiced his concerns: "Is there anything else you'd like to tell your boyfriend of almost one year? I thought we agreed ages ago not to keep secrets from one another. So, you were a teen alcoholic, and a thief. What other skeletons are rattling around inside that huge body of yours?" With voices raised, tempers grew frayed. More people began to leave the platform. "Take that back," Dex growled. His body began to expand, fueled by rising anger. Veins popped out all over his muscled form. More seams parted in the jacket, and parts of his mesh string top began to disintegrate due to the expanding flesh pushing against the flimsy fibers. Unbeknownst to them both, a youth nearby had his iPhone's camera trained on them. YouTube Gold was the order of the day, it seemed. No matter, Dex had found himself in YouTube videos more than a few times already. You just had to type in the right tag words and phrases and eventually he popped up (in more ways than one). "Why, what you gonna do, bend me into a crowbar-pretzel?" Sonny stood his ground, although he was at a loss for what to do. They'd bickered in the past before. What couple doesn't? But those minor tiffs were nothing like this. This was... getting bad. Anger caused Dex's blood to boil. His muscles became engorged, and his skimpy garb destabilized further. He decided to ditch the jacket, for it had become uncomfortably tight across his back and shoulders. Now all that barely concealed his super-huge, muscled torso were a few ounces of string and some visibly straining suspenders. The way they stretched over the curved swell of his pecs – the immense prominence of each muscle-tit creating several inches of space between his impregnable 8-pack and the elasticized straps – was a minor miracle in that the front and back clasps were still able to cling to their denim moorings. "The shit!!!" It was the youth with the iPhone, creaming himself but unable to do much about it, except to keep filming. Later he would break it off with his girlfriend of two years, Susan, in favor of a new lifestyle in need of exploring. She'd be devastated and blog about it on Facebook to her 1,567 girlfriends before deciding to become a nun. Happened all the time, that. "Enjoy your photo shoot. Fuck this crap!" The super-gorgeous muscle behemoth stormed off towards the stairwell back to ground level. Concerned and cautious commuters pushed close to the walls to give him a wide berth. A curious police officer, no more than a rookie, called it in and requested instructions on what to do. His superior advised him to "keep an eye on the situation", nothing more. Dexter hadn't done anything wrong. No one had complained about him (too scared to, most likely). He'd caused no damage and the altercation down on the platform had been a minor one, all things considered. He was scantily clad, but it was a warm day, and there were plenty of shirtless hard bodies around. The guy was a giant, but so far, he wasn't breaking any nudity laws. A little bit of denim around his junk and ass just about kept him from getting cuffed (not that any cuffs would hold him). When the train came Sonny made sure he was on it. He was upset by how the day was going, when it had started out with amazing sex and muscle worship. But their rent wasn't cheap, and Alfonse was a pain to work with, but at least he paid well. Time to focus on work for a while. *** A huge bodybuilder made his way out of the underground and across town. His movement was half-strut, half-waddle, made that way by the sheer immensity of his hugely bulbous thighs and the way they were intricately arranged... powerful muscles fighting against each other for space. As he went his torso continued to hemorrhage bits of shirt string. He made for the fountain, where earlier he'd seen the mail guy snapping him through a professional-looking camera. It had to be him, he thought. He liked to think that he never forgot a face. The craving for alcohol no longer niggled at him. He was meant to put it down in a diary, but for the life of him couldn't remember where that diary was now. "I crave size... more size... more massively huge size... more than anything else," he voiced aloud, something of a vow he was determined to honor. He stood looking at the fountain for a long moment. He closed his eyes. Dreamed of getting bigger, each muscle bloating upwards and outwards with so much more mass and power, skin stretched to wafer thin extremity across the ever-burgeoning bellies. He would make it happen. It had to happen. His mind filtered out all sounds of city life... all except one. The sound of a modest-sized coin hitting water with a discernible "plop" sound. It instantly brought him back to reality. A thin well-dressed gentleman – his hair snow-white and cropped tightly to a somewhat egg-shaped skull – stood next to him, the top of his head just about level with Dex's shoulder. Fairly slumped in posture and middling in stature, the man was respectable looking, but looked tired and somewhat older than his years. "You can have my wish," he said softly to the giant, without taking his eyes off the baroque cherubic scene carved into the fountain. "Huh, what did you say?" In truth Dexter had heard him perfectly, but he still had to come fully down from his angry time. "Have you never tossed a coin into a fountain and made a wish, Mister Rhodes?" The gentleman now moved to the lip of the capacious fountain bowl to take some weight off his feet. He took out a banana from the inside pocket of his light-grey suit and began to peel it with care and precision. He never once made eye contact with the giant muscleman before him. If he felt intimidated by the handsome super-hulk, then he certainly didn’t show it. "Uh, maybe... as a kid... I dunno. Wait a sec... how do you know my name?" The gentleman smiled a wan smile and paused with the peeled banana held before him in a hand that ever so slightly trembled. "I make it my business to learn all I can about the exceptional people with whom I share a troubled planet." He went to take first bite from the fruit. But he paused once again, only to add: "Something tells me you haven't been having the best of days." Well, he got that right. But Dex didn't like the idea of a complete stranger knowing his name. What else did the old codger know about him? Upon second glance the banana-man didn't look all that old. Dex reckoned he could be anywhere between forty-five and seventy. By now several dozen people, mostly tourists and young adult males, had formed a ring around the huge bodybuilder. They gave Dex plenty of room, but nearly every one of them were recording his image in some fashion. Dex was used to it. His brain just filtered them out. It was human nature, driven to utter fascination by all things "different". "Are you spying on me? How much did you pay that paparazzo dude to take my photo and pose as a mail man?" Dex's muscles began to swell further as his anger surfaced once again. Miraculously his suspenders still held. "I don't employ photo-journalists as a rule, Dexter. May I call you Dexter?" "Fuck you, gramps," Dex barked before turning around to leave. The same police officer from earlier stood near the burgeoning crowd. He watched the scene intently. The people boundary began to disperse to give the muscle giant room to leave. "Please don't walk away from me, Dexter. I only wish to help. Why did you approach this fountain if you weren't made curious by the photographer earlier?" This grabbed Dex's attention and held it in a grip from which not even he could escape. He did a 180-degree turn and walked back part of the way towards the fountain. His chest heaved hugely, suspender straps straining against the rise of so much chest muscle. The string top was almost completely eradicated. He looked massive... beautiful, a sandy-haired Jesse Metcalfe crossed with Zac Efron. Such a facial mix set on a huge muscle-body was a one in a billion occurrence, several billion, even. But it still wasn't enough for him. Not by a mile. "So, he does work for you. You'd better fess up to what you're about, Mister, or you'll be eating a fire hydrant instead of that banana." Dex's body was flushed with anger which fueled an overall increase in muscle mass as blood and adrenaline swelled his muscle fibers to near-bursting point. People nearby gasped at the sight of such a big man swelling up with further muscle mass. "I mean you no harm, Dexter. Of that you can be assured. As to how I know you... well... for now let's just say that I have your best interests at heart. As you grow bigger... and I'm certain you will... the world will come to accept you less and less. Look around you at the gathering you've attracted. And a lone police constable, too. Unless you keep that temper of yours under control, this could easily turn into something best avoided." The man stood up again, but only to toss the uneaten banana into the nearest bin. "Turns out I'm allergic to potassium," he revealed by way of a comic aside to everyone but Dexter. Total pantomime stuff. Dex quickly grew tired of this. "I'm listening," Dex said simply. "Alas, I'm done talking... for now. Let me give you my card. I really must get to another appointment post haste." The man began to make his exit, across the street to a waiting limousine. The copper would run a check on the plates. Routine stuff. Everything would check out. Banana man was a ghost in the system, it seemed. "Wait a sec, I need to know what this is all about!" Dex's voice was a booming one. Pigeons nearby stopped picking at scraps in the street and took to the wing en masse. Elsewhere a kid's balloon popped, and a pregnant woman's waters broke. The woman's husband began to panic and called for assistance. Fortunately, the police officer, no longer interested in a giant nearly naked bodybuilder, was on hand to render assistance. A strange day, indeed. Dexter stared at Banana man's business card for far longer than he needed to. There was very little on it, just the initials "W L", followed by a phone number. He decided to go home, take a shower, then head to the gym. Nothing like a workout to preoccupy a troubled mind. He started walking... strutting muscle. People still stared in droves. They always stared. Part 3 It wasn’t the first time that his fob key had been rejected at a gym turnstile. He knew the drill. Stare hard enough at the desk clerk until question marks pop out of your head and steam shoots out of both ears. “I’m sorry, Dex. Rufus was pretty explicit about the instructions he left,” said Jeff the hunky clerk, hoping to high hell that the biggest bodybuilder ever to squeeze sideways through the doors to this particular muscle-building convenience wouldn’t take his frustrations out on the messenger. Jeff could bench 650lbs for 12 reps in a controlled situation, but it was a different matter altogether when 650lbs of hyper-muscle charged at you in a flying rage with intent to rearrange every bone in your body. “This can’t happen today. Not with the kind of day I’m having. Buzz me in, Jeff,” Dex insisted. Breathing faster than usual, his mighty chest heaved up and down, in and out, throwing extra inches his way. His suspenders would not hold for much longer. There was no one else in the gym lobby at this time. Maybe that was for the best, should those suspenders fly off suddenly in an erratic pattern with the potential to knock out eyeballs. “You owe Rufus a grand for the damage you did to the equipment last week. You’re too strong for the place now. He said not to let you in until he sees some green. So please, no trouble, yeah? I need this job, Dex.” Jeff cautiously placed a finger next to a panic button discreetly positioned where Dex couldn’t see it. He hoped he wouldn’t have to push it. “And I need a workout, Jeff. I’ll ask you one more time... buzz me the fuck in.” Dex’s voice had become a growl. His anger was about to boil again. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep his rage under control. Lifting weights helped a lot. But now he was denied even that privilege. “Sorry, Dex. I can’t go against the boss’s wishes. I can call him on the phone if you like.” Jeff was a very strong bodybuilder, but he was a dwarf compared to Dexter Rhodes. Anxiety began to take hold like a bitch. “Huh... forget it. He hasn’t even got the balls to be here when I call in. Fuckin’ wuss. I’ll see him in my own time. Thanks for nothing, Jeff!” With nothing more to say on the matter, Dex vacated the building, much to Jeff’s relief. Of course, Jeff would have to let his boss know that Dex had been in. What he didn’t know was that although Dex left the gym, he didn’t go very far. Dex waited almost an hour for Rufus’ SUV to pull into the parking lot. Rufus had been a champion bodybuilder in his day. Now in his sixties, he was still in great shape for his age. But it was no secret that he was selling all kinds of performance enhancers under the counter to help his ailing business stay afloat. Dex waited a few more minutes until he was sure that Rufus was in his office. Then he returned to the parking lot, specifically to the private corner of the lot reserved for staff vehicles. It was around the side of the building. Rufus always parked in the same spot, so that he could keep an eye on his beloved motor from the small window to his office. Dex wasn’t sure how much an SUV weighed, but it felt near weightless to him as he hefted it off the tarmac and pressed it effortlessly above his head until his arms locked straight. With a mighty grunt he tossed it with two hands as easily as a footballer would a soccer ball during a throw-in. Fortunately, Rufus was doing a little cocaine in the small bathroom off his office proper when the vehicle struck home, otherwise he’d have been killed instantly. The fright of the huge off-roader taking out an entire wall to his office and pretty much destroying everything within, however, caused him to inhale too much coke far too quickly. It triggered a seizure there and then. By the time the paramedics and police arrived, the ex-bodybuilding champ was already in a coma. By 5pm that evening an APB calling for Dexter Rhodes’ arrest meant that every cop in the city would be out looking for him. He couldn’t go home. He didn’t have a phone on him. Sonny would be worried as hell, despite their bad exchange of words earlier. “I should turn myself in,” he mouthed aloud from a safe vantage point atop an apartment block on the outskirts of the city. These days he could propel himself Hulk-style over inhuman distances. Scaling a twenty-story building took just a few leaps and bounds, using windowsills and extractor-fan casings as hand grips and footholds. On the top floor of this block of apartments, his friend and fellow stripper Giancarlo lived with his boyfriend Rafael. Both were currently out of town. Dexter knew this, and so gaining access to the apartment via the fire escape was no problem to a superhuman muscle-freak. He suddenly had a place in which to lay low. There was no phone in the apartment, but there was a payphone in the corridor directly outside. “I need a coin for the phone. Could you help me out?” Dexter standing in an apartment block corridor meant that anyone coming or going simply couldn’t pass unless he pressed himself against a wall. He spoke to a drag queen, half-in, half-out of his outfit for the evening. Was he going to work, or coming from? Did it really matter? “For you, handsome, you can have all the cookies you want... but the cream you gotta pay for,” said the queen. Now what in fuck did that mean? “Have you got a coin or not? I need to make an urgent phone call.” Dex ground his teeth and tried to keep calm. He didn’t have time to be toyed with. “Only if I can kiss all those enormous, beautiful muscles of yours, hombre.” The queen winked at Dex in that exaggerated way that queens sometimes do. He wasn’t very good at it. One wink and off came his stick-on eyelashes. “How about I bend you over so hard, you’ll be sucking your own dick for a week,” was Dex’s exasperated but somewhat colorful threat. The queen relented, took some coins out of her purse, and threw them at the bodybuilder. “I can already do that, bitch. Now go call yo’ mamma and tell her you missed out on the best blowjob you’ll never have.” The queen slinked off back to wherever it was she liked to slink to. Dex wasted no further time calling Sonny: “Hey... it’s m---” “Where the hell are you? The police were here, asking me questions. I didn’t know what to tell them. Fuck it Dex, you’re all over the news.” Sonny sounded frantic with worry. “I... um... lost control. Rufus barred me from the gym. The rage I felt, Sonny. I couldn’t help myself. Did the news reports say anything about... well... you know?” Dex felt that kind of dread we all do just before hearing something we’d be better off not knowing. His throat went dry as kindling. “The news didn’t say much. Just that the alleged target of your attack, gym owner Rufus Boyd, is in intensive care. He’s in a coma, Dex. Because of you. If he dies... well, I don’t have to spell it out for you.” An awkward silence passed between them for a few long seconds. “Where are you? Speak to me for fuck sake,” Sonny’s voice was cracked with emotion. He broke down, which was enough to set Dex off as well. His bottom lip quivered whilst his tear ducts began to swell. “If I tell you, you’ll have to tell the cops, Sonny. If you don’t know, then you have nothing more to tell them, right? I need to lay low while I figure out what to do next.” “How about turning yourself in? Where will you go? You’re wanted by the police as the main suspect in an attempted homicide. Where can a man that looks like you expect to hide anyway? Please, Dex... do the right thing and don’t prolong this and make things worse for yourself. I... I... love you... so much.” Another short silence. Then: “I love you too. I might see if my father is willing to help.” Dex wiped tears out of his eyes with the back of his hand, but one managed to evade him. It dripped off his masculine, chiseled chin and onto his enormous pec shelf, where it then proceeded to forge a path downward over the beautiful, swollen curvature of his left pectoral muscle. The muscle-tit immediately contracted, as though it had been touched by an electrical current. As if hewn from the flesh by a master sculptor’s chisel, deep striations were suddenly carved across both pecs, one of which rapidly sucked up the escaping teardrop. “Are you crazy? If he didn’t want to know you before... he’s hardly going to be interested in coming to your aid after what happened.” “I have to try. If anything, I’m going to need bail, and a good lawyer. I might get him to do the right thing.” “And if he doesn’t. Are you going to start tossing more cars?” “I love you, Sonny. More than life itself... more than bodybuilding,” said Dex, and hung up. Only part of that admission was true. At this moment in time, the greatly troubled behemoth didn’t know which part was. *** He worried that the drag queen from earlier might learn of his crime and report his whereabouts to the police. He had to get to his father, but home was on the other side of the country. “I’ll give muscle shows in exchange for places to hole up,” he decided, as he freshened up in Giancarlo and Rafael’s ridiculously small bathroom. Dex could hardly turn full circle in the cramped confines of the tiny room. Still, he just about managed to splash warm water from the sink all over his muscles and junk. Despite all that happened, he still got hard looking at himself in any mirror. The mirror over the sink was large enough to cater to an average-sized man’s needs, but because of Dex’s height and awesome upper-body width, his pecs completely filled the mirror. He bounced them vigorously, squeezing them with sheer will alone, until they broke into roughly similar-sized sections separated by striations deep enough to hide change in... a lot of change. “This isn’t how it should be playing out for me. Suddenly everything’s gone to shit. How can I grow my amazing muscle-bod if everything’s gone so wrong?” Dex grew super-hard when he tried to perform a double biceps pose, but there simply wasn’t enough room in the bathroom. He went into the bedroom where the couple had a decent-sized full-length mirror on the inside of a closet door. Completely naked, Dex began to blast out pose after pose, each movement designed to show him at his most muscular and beautiful. He was huge. A bodybuilder his size got horny far too much. His libido was hyper-charged, and even though he’d had sex only that morning, his balls felt like they had a months-worth of jism in them. Fully naked, and completely erect, Dex’s cock was the size of - if not longer and thicker than - an average man’s forearm. It slammed against the bricks of his ab wall with a most satisfying thud. The mushroom head was already shiny from precum that began to leak from it like resin from the wound of a tree. He touched the viscous bead with a finger, which he then brought to his lips to taste. The flavor of his raw manliness further excited him. He began to growl like a threatening wild animal. He brought fists to his sides and fanned out his lats into a vast spread, puffing up his chest and pecs simultaneously, and he marveled at how his upper body seemed to triple in size. Precum now began pouring down the shaft of his cock, and he wished that Sonny was here to collect it in his mouth, to hold it there before bringing his lips up to his lover’s so that the precum he’d saved could cement their kiss together with even greater degrees of man-lust. “Gotta get bigger. BIGGER!!!!!!!!! IT MUST HAPPEN!!!!!” ********************************** Clearly this story was meant to continue, but no further chapters were added. It's disappointing, but let's frame it as an opportunity to imagine where things would go from here. I'm sure Dex would find a way to continue his growth, and it would be magnificent. I'm torn between wanting him to get his anger under control vs. wanting to see him fuck shit up with his gigantic body and incredible strength. He's only nineteen, and life is a journey, right? It would be understandable if the power went to his head and he made a few more "mistakes" before getting himself under control with the help of his faithful lover, Sonny. ~ Fallen Away
  17. Hey there! As I am a fan of @GiganticBeast and enjoyed this particular scenario (based on: https://de.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5f17482069df0) way too much i decided to transcript it. Hereby I'd like to share one my first experience made understanding techniques on experiencing growth by All Dialoge - one person. I learned it really is art to just do those audios with passion, good voice-acting, hot driving fantasies and give a boner by sharing fantasies in fantasies... MAN! If you find some typings and errors - please let me know. ^^ Enjoy! :3 -------- A door closes… Steps halls in a toilet-room… An old ventilator fills the room as a base-noise… A man moans in relive while strong pissing-noises break the calm… „Oooooooohhh, there we go… Ooh fuck…“ Sound of piss vanishes… „Hey! Ha… Wanna take a picture boy? It will last longer that way.“. Flushing of toilet… Steps towards the intruder… „No, no. Don’t back away now. Come one! You won’t get to be modest now ‘cause I see the cellphone there. Did you think you can sneak a pic of that fat fucking cock and go back to your girlfriend at the parking lot? Is that way you think?” … „Go one, put yours out!“ … „Yeah, you heard me! You saw mine, now let’s see yours.”. Chuckle of ridiculousness… “No, leave it filming.” … “Come one. Take your little dick out. I can see it throbbing against those tight pants of yours.“. … „Ughh… Fuck, stop going so slow!“. Further steps approaching… „I don’t have all day for this stop here. Get over here!“. … „Ah fuck, your dick is hard as hell. Aren’t you?“ … „God, that‘s as big as it gets, huh?“ … „Shit, boy, mine’s not even half hard and I am TWICE as fucking big.” … “That’s what you wanted to see, huh? Your little girlfriend waiting outside-“ Sound of little stretching … “-waiting for YOU…“. Some more stretching, halting with a moan… „Guh… God. Haven’t you idea what you are in here for. For fucking hours, I bet, just to see some big fat fucking trucker cock, don’t you?“. Further little stretching… „Hayeah, you film it and go home and worship it, don’t you?” … “Fucking beg me for it then, boy! Fucking beg me for this… big fat cock, you little boy-dicked bitch! Go ahead and ask me for it!” … “Ah yeah… Tell me how bad you need it. Say ‘Beast sir, can I PLEASE touch your big growing fat god cock’. Do it! Fucking SAY IT!“. Further stretching with a pleasured moan of delight… First clothe tear… „Oh yeah! Can you see it growing? Do you see it getting harder?” … “Oh yeah, look at the veins up and down on it.” Ripping and moaning for a moment… “Oh yeah! Feel it… thr-THROB… like the ones of my big Bowlingball-biceps!” Little growls here and there with building excitement… “You haven’t seen a man like this, have you? I am a fucking dream come true to you, aren’t I? How many times have you-” Further growth-noises and longer moan… “-have you dragged your little girlfriend out to this Truckstop – desperate for something like this?”. Short mocking giggle… „Tell me you dream of this. That I am a fucking-”. Some more rip and stretch-noises… „-dream come true for you. Oh yeah, I am something you have been jacking your little dick off to since you are a teen… Go ahead!” Another mocking and pleased giggle… „Go ahead, you can touch it! I know you are fucking dying to! Get your little hands around this fat fucking monster… Feel it-„ More intense stretch, resulting in a slightly overwhelmed moan. “-uhhhh … yeah feel it.” Smaller growth continues noisy… “Yeah, feel it-. Ye, its big and I am a grower too… Aaah yeah, feel your fingers around that fat fucking shaft! Run that thumb up my … huhh yeah … up my veins, down the back. Do you feel that(?) … pumping …… grooowing-“ Small surge of stretching sounds… “-pushing your fingers apart. Yeah! Fuck … huhhh … I want you to picture this when you’re fucking that girl of yours out there! Picture MY fat god damn-“ Small surges while pausing… “-BEAST … Fuuck … Ooh, yeah … growing and … STRETCHING her apart as you are begging me for just a little taste of it. Oh ye, THIS is what MAN’s cock is. This is what a BEASTs cock i-hh-s.” Bigger spurt of growth underling the statement… “Yeah! Feel it.” Mini-Surge of stretching… with a slight moan… “Ohh, almost pushing you back there, righ’? God DAMN, this feels good!“. Huffing with a smile… Chuckle… „You are trembling, boy. You are like a dog who chase cars and you finally got one. What you gonna do with it now?”. … „Ooh, on your knees already? FUuuck! Ooh, I like thaat!“. … „Yeah, it‘s still growing…“. Smaller waves if growth coming calmly through… „O no, I don‘t know how big it gets, I never measured…”. Huffs of pleasure… „Do I look like I am fucking kiddin‘?“. … „Yeah, just lick that monster… Slide that tongue-hh up and … OH … hooooh-” Breather of surprise… “YEAH! Right inside of you, there you go! Rumble of growth – in three mini-waves… “FUCK, god, I’m so hot … you make me … feel so fucking … BIIGhh.“. Rippling clothes noises plus a growl – indicating the begin of a pleasant blowjob… „What? … Oohh, yeah, don’t worry about that sound. Just … keep worshiping that big … fat fucking cock. … Oh yeah.“. … „Nah, it‘s just getting hard … People don’t fucking grow like that, man … just … hhh … fucking enjoy it… ah yeah … Put it up against your arm! Yeah, it is fatter than your wrist already.“. Knocking and noises outside… Grunt of disturbance – probably of teeth grinding against the pulled-out cock. „Wait. Shit, shit… Someone is … uhgn… someone is coming… Ghh… Get into the fucking stall! I am not done with you yet…“. Closing lock of the stall, followed by opening door of the toilet-room. Hearable steps of high heels incoming… Low volume grunts of relieve… Sudden two knocks on the closed stall… „Its occupied…“ Jolts on the doorhandle… „I SAID its occupied!“. Person leaves the room again… … Excited breather of a joke… Deepening Voice - getting more volume… „Ye, this stall IS tiny. I fucking love it! I feel … huuhh … SO…“. Pleasured grunt… „BIG…“ Hilarious short laughter in utter surprise. “Fuck yeah.” … „What?“ … “Nah, I was always that tall. Calm down! Get fuckin-“ Growl of pleasure in pull of head onto cock… “-get fucking sucking, boy.”. … „Fuck, this is incredible.” … “Ye, it wasn’t all the way hard yet… Just-” … “No, I don’t know how big it gets. Just … keep…“ Moan of pleasure… „God, yeah, keep touching! Keep STROKING!”. … „Ohh. What… Can‘t take a little pre?” … “Oo, fuck mee… boy, you never even suck a cock?!” … “God, I swear to you if I feel your tooth for a second, I gonna fucking break your jaw with my cock!” Further moans of delight… “Hhh fuck yeah…”. … „What? You wanna-“ Gasp of little in no surprise. „You wanna feel the rest of me? Fine! Fine, feel what you want.“ Breath in satisfaction of worship… „Go ahead, yeah. You can-“ Small surge of growth… “-feel my legs.” Gasp in utter surprise plus slow continous stretches… „They are THICK already!” … “They gotta be bold under my rig all day.” … “Look at this fucking guns! I am a fucking…“ Liking growl of the observation. „BEAST!“. Slightly louder sounds of stretching – going on more prominently… „I said: Don’t mind that sound! I am just … focus on those balls!” … “Yeah, pull them out for me…“ Little extra growth of the extra touching… „Oh, fuck them… My jocks’re getting so tight!”. Moan mixes with enjoyment of a steady growing… „Growin’? What the fuck are you talking about? Just feel them! Aren‘t they big enough already?” … “Yeah! They fucking fill your whole palm, don’t they?“ … „Oh yea. Full of fucking cum like I - just like a brawny boy. I haven’t released them in fucking WEEKS.” … “It that what you want? Your sweet little girlfriend out there (- the one -) you picture yourself getting choked and huh-“ Hornyness accelerates growth spurt while imagining the Sex. Start of moaning while talking… „-and gagging hooh-“ More stretching… “-cuffing up gallons of some THICK fucking trucker cum…“ Horny moan and growl… „OH yea… some BIG muscle bulged trucker just PUMPIN’ you full.” Spurt ends while voice deepens… “There you go…“ Breath in awe… „Fuck this stall is so tiny!”. … Laugh as nothing happened by an obvious observation. „No, I have always been this tall. God, you-“ … “-are you standing? … “God … no, I have always bein’ this big. You always just got up to my packs. What are you fucking talking about?“ … „Ohh fuck. Who cares how tall I was earlier? … “Yeah, my shirt’s tight. It’s fucking old already-“ Some growth ripping the shirt even more. Suppression of the urge of growth… “-so I-“ Ripping of the shirt… „ just RIP it all of.“ Breather of sweat. „Fuck, I am just getting pumped, alright?“ Moan from a touch… „Fuck, I love the sight of you reach me on your tiptoes oh-“ Little surge with a surprised moan by liking the view… … „Just try to feel these fucking traps.” … “YE, my shoulders a fucking broad!” Gasp in slight pain… “Fuck these boots are tight. Go one, get down on your knees, boy and take those off of me.“ Breath of hurry… „Fuck yeah, unlace these…“ Stronger growth spurt with deepening voice and ripping clothes and slowly tearing shoes… “Oh fuck! Shit seems to be popping … Yeah, God, I am so BIG…“. … „Size 16. Ye, I think these are just old.“ Stretching… „Them are fucking broad feet on this field-hopped boots…” … “HURRY UP! Fucking get those laces off before-“ Upcoming surge… vividly surprised by holding breath… „-… before…-“. Groan and final looong ripping… Louder moan in delight… „FUCK mee…” … “Ye, were old, alright? They are old boots.” … “I told you size 18, jesus Christ!” … “Listen Boy…” Moan… „Oh fuck… Look what you made me do. God …” … “No. My feet aren’t too big for me, you are just to fucking slow! That’s why that happened! God, can’t keep my fucking size 20 feet in those fucking shoes in them anymore, thanks to you!“ … „Ye fine, put them to your chest!“ Further moan… „Feel that sweat of that fucking beast sucking through your shirt ey?“ Laughing and scoffing… … „Oh hot! You got a good sucking on that fucking big toe… ey? Growing in your mouth.“ Short noises of growth while pleasured exhalation… „Fuck yeah… Your hands up and down on my calves are almost… fuck … they are already as big as your thigh… even bigger…” Breath in surprise and some more stretching… Some moan in pleasure… „Rock hard muscle growing … and throbbing … and BULGING … and …“ Horny exhalation, swearing in pleasure… … „What?! No, I didn’t say ‘growing’. Fuck … God, this little stall is so… claustrophobic. It’s so tiny, isn’t it?” Uncertain giggle… “Fuck…”. … „Na, I always was shoulder to shoulder with these metal fucking walls! Ooh god…” “Imma stand up here…“ Slight stomp – shaking the ground… „Fuck me … Godhhh …”. Exhausted breathing… … „No, I was always scraping the fucking ceiling. Yea, I know that: I came crouching in here. 10 feet tall … fucking big…” Growing again some more – continuously progressing… Little growth noises for a short time… “… broad … my clothes were hanging off of me when I got in here. I was… I got this … ah … condition and… ah … oh fuck, I can’t even…”. Small chuckling… „Look, at your fucking face…” Honest laughter… “Nah, I don’t care anymore.” … “Ye, I am fucking growing.”. Passionate gasp… growth pausing with mentionable voice-deepening … „Fuck, I am getting MASSIVE as you fucking worship me! … Oh my god yeah… I have never gotten this big before… Another chuckle in surprise… „Shit… Here is my fucking roid-gut swelling out there for you - ripping out that shirt… Ah yeah… Get these fingers in between those grooves.“ Pleasure and passion mixing up… „Feel it! Feel that hair so thick …” … “Grab a fucking fistful of my pelt there, boy.“ … „Oh yea. Don’t you come yet! I never had some growing this BIG…” … “Also never had someone who is so fucking … dumb … fucking EAGER to see me-“ Greater spurt passing through… “- see me GROWING …“ Spurt still passing through… „Oh my god. All these little lot-sluts were running away from me before I am 8 feet tall but … but YOU … you are so fucking cock-hungry, you made me so-“ Spurt still passing through with a little extra ontop… „… SOO… FUCKING… BIG…“ … „I won’t be even able to fit into my own rig.“ Noticeable enjoyment… ”Go one! You are on it, right?” Hearty laugh… Moaning in pleasure… “Ohh… GOD, YEAH… You are fucking terrified, YEAH. But … you wanna feel that thick fat fucking cock inside of you before it … hhh … before I get to big to fit, don’t ya?“ Swearing moan… „Go one, you want it. You are fucking terrified. But you-“ Wave of growing… “-oh wanna feel my fat cock growing … and stretching …” … “Come one. Get me in there…” Growl of work accompanied by small spurt… “Ooh fuck yeah!“ … „You are so fucking tight, boy… I gonna lie down here-“ Objects rumbling away… „What are you…” Moan in delight… “Oh, yeah, you like these fucking nimps, ey?” … “Go one! Fat fucking thumb-thick beast growing in your mouth…“ Horny spurt… „OHhh yeah… … oh god… I am so BIG. I am so … so HARD… Look what you have done to me, boy. I’m GROWING-“ Short and intense spurt flying by… “-… SO… BIG.“ Gasp in horny surprise… „Oh my god, I … I don’t think I can control it anymore… I don’t think I-“ Chuckles – lost in the moment… “I don’t think I am controlling-” Another wave… “Oh my god!” Spurt… “Can you feel this boy? Can you feel your body sliding against mine as I GROW underneath you …?“ Moan in utter pleasure… Growth gaining speed… “Fuck… lying down on the floor … growing across…” More Objects rumbling away… Stretching slightly intensifying… Grunt in effort… “… knocking those stalls out the way… I can’t even control it. I can’t anymore…“ Suddenly: A short calm before the storm… „Fuck me, the walls are squeezing on me here. I can barely get … oh god … barely get a full breath…” Grow bigger suddenly… “I feel so… Oh god… I feel so cramped as I … as I GROW-“ Rest of the stalls crumbling… Walls getting damaged… Growth intensifies… Voice thundering even more… “… and grow into that brute… oh my god, I’ve never gotten this big… but I love it!” Moan… Objects getting crushed one by one… “Fuck me. I can’t stop growing and stretching you like a flashlight around my cock. I am not fucking you anymore I am jacking off with your little twitching body…” Moans and gasps mixing with rumbling… “God, I am soaking in my sweat…” Burst up a bit with a growl… “Go ahead boy. Get your face up in this Pit.” Swear and moan… “I could fucking crush you with a flex, boy, but I am not gonna… just … Ohhh… It feels just soo good. OOhh, yeah, fucking lick your way, little boy…“ Louder moans in pleasure… Growing some more quicker… „Fuck me… My cock growing so big inside of you! FEEL IT! Feel it throbbing against your back. I am growing inside of you SO MUCH like a hooligan.“. More stretching and rumbling – depending on the little ones actions. „Its amazing!” … “Bigger… bigger … and bigger! Fuck, yes!“ Rumbling spurts: Bigger, bigger and bigger – filling the room more and more… „Fucking monstrous beast… Oh god, I can’t move my arms. They are pinned against the walls. My legs are fucking curling up here. Ohhh. My traps swallowing my head. BOY, you got me growing out of control here!“ Building up pressure, clamped between walls… Moaning in pressure and disbelieve… „Fuck! IS THIS YOU WANTED?“ Inside air connecting with the outside as his head digs through the ceiling… „Fucking get crushed by a growing muscle bull in a fucking dirty truckstop-” Booming off of the head and ceiling collapsing… “-ooooh, you little fucking bitch?!“ Loud moan as the head comes to fresh air… „Oh my God, there goes the fucking roof!” Rumbling as the giant stands up … “I can breathe again at least!“ Monstrous chuckle… Thundering damaging the floor as he steps and stabilizes… „Ah shit! There is your girl!” … “You… wanna say me anything to her…? Or do you wanna let me joining her the fun?"
  18. 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.
  19. MegaMassiveMuscleMonster

    They Said I WasToo Big

    "Too big,” they’d said. Lose about 25 lbs and you’d place a lot higher. Tighten it up and come in smaller and more toned, and you’d have a good shot at winning. Those were the judges critiques at last year’s Olympia. It was a shame that women’s bodybuilding was so...so.... lame? Wasn’t the point of bodybuilding to get BIGGER muscles? Why have a heavyweight division if they’re only going to say I’m TOO BIG? Wasn’t that why they created bikini and physique? For those cute little muscle Barbies? Not for us musclebound women intent on being the best. And oh boy, do I intend on being the BEST, the BIGGEST, the MOST MUSCULAR woman alive... Screw the IFBB and everyone at the Olympia. I don’t need them or their contests to know who I am. “Too big.” You’re damn straight. They had no idea just how right they were.. I’ll show them too big alright, just wait until they get a load of this bulky muscle monster now! When I placed at that very bottom last year, I admit...I became deeply depressed. All the hard work, all the blood sweat and tears for naught. Did the judges not know how hard I lifted? How insanely strict my diet was? Did they not appreciate my time and dedication? So much of my life was devoted to winning, only to find out that I was the absolute worst competitor in their eyes? Well screw them! I built muscle so easily. I’d always tried to my hardest to be lean and well proportioned. But screw that, not anymore! My new goal is to gain as much muscle as possible. And let me tell ya, nobody packs it on like me! I am a muscle-building MACHINE! Heck, at 18 years old I had 18 inch biceps, 20 inches at 21, and at last year’s Olympia my arms were 23 inches. I was 33 then...I’ll be turning 34 the day before the next Olympia. Trust me when I say, my arms will be AT LEAST 34 inches. But is that my ultimate goal? NAH! My goals are so much loftier now than they have ever been- impossible for any other man or woman, even with drugs. Am I insane? Am I insane to want this, to add so much muscle? Yes. Yes I am. My entire life has been a balance between my family and my passion for bodybuilding. My husband and daughter are my number one priority. And they always will be. They both could see how devastated I was. I didn’t eat right, or lift at all for 3 months. I was sleeping 15 hours a day. My husband told me to do whatever it takes to feel myself again. Whatever it takes to get my revenge. Thank God for that man. He is so supportive (although we all know he's a muscle-lover so it's a win win for him). I won’t let them down. It was 3 months ago I decided to get absolutely massive. It only took a month to get back to where I was before the loss. Another month to get to my current 350 lbs of rock hard muscle. Like I said, I gain muscle so easily. I still have 6 months before the next Olympia. Over the course of 1 month I went from 200 lbs to 220 lbs. I went from 220 lbs to 350 lbs in the span of 2 months. And still 6 more months to go? Yikes. They said I was too big. Just wait. It was 3 months out from Olympia when my husband purposed steroids. I've never done drugs in my life. Hell, I barley even drank alcohol. We both shared a passion for a healthy lifestyle. I scoffed initially, but kept the idea in the back of my mind. Would it really be so bad if started doping? Everyone else did it, and it was a point of pride for me that I never did. But this was about revenge. This was about getting even, settling the score. Showing them JUST how big TOO BIG really was... Two months out. Last week I had broke the smith machine in my house. I'd been doing seated military presses, just some volume work, light weight- high reps, when my daughter snuck up behind me and started tickling me. I inadvertently pressed up on the 500 lbs too quickly and bent the whole machine. When my husband came running in to investigate the awful noise, I just shrugged my gargantuan basketball-sized shoulders and grinned sheepishly. There really wasn't enough weight in my home gym to challenge me anymore, so no biggie! My brother was in the Navy and had managed to procure some anchor chains from a battleship. An early birthday present he'd said. I was initially nervous, I didn't want him to get in trouble! But he just pretended to zip his lips and rolled his eyes. He's a goofball but I love him. Ironically he did end up in trouble when he returned back to his ship. His superiors weren't happy when he told them he broke three ribs in a "fight." I might have hugged him a tad too tightly. Anyway...back to my workouts. My husband had found an old warehouse his company owned, and combined with the chains and some construction equipment we bought, I was really able to let loose! What were already unheard of gains were now well past inhuman, and they were only increasing more and more. My body was a temple of pure muscle mass and strength. I'd also started pills and injections. An old friend who was a doctor had moved to Brazil, and he’d designed a new muscle-building cocktail specifically tailored to my genetic profile. No negative side-effects: no hair-growth, no acne, no voice changes or facial changes of any kind. It did however greatly increase my aggression. One day, a neighbor had come snooping around to investigate why there was loud banging and rumbling coming from a supposedly-abandoned warehouse. I had barreled across the warehouse, knocking over equipment and flinging anything in my path. My neck veins popped as I ripped the door right off its hinges and tore it in half, spit flying in his face as I roared at him for interrupting. Luckily my husband was there to calm me down. Because I was about to run straight through the concrete wall and go tear the guys house off its foundation. Rampage adverted! Today is the day. The day I take revenge on those ignorant judges. The day I take my rightful place as the best bodybuilder the world has ever know. I entered the auditorium from the rear, just as all the puny contestants were being called out. The main door would attract to much attention...not that I was worried about THAT, I just wanted to scare everyone at once. The fire exit was locked, but I made quick work of it with one quick inward push from my 42 inch forearms. The door was much too narrow- my traps alone wouldn't fit through the standard 32-inch width door. The crowd was cheering so loud they must not have heard the noise as I barged straight through the wall with my obscenely muscle-packed delts. Or the noise and shaking as I rumbled down the hallway. I had been wider than I was tall for weeks. Not hard when you're only 5'3". My 8 foot wide shoulders smashed up against either side. My legs were so massively thick, pumped and musclebound that I had to swing my whole body around to move, causing my shoulders and arms to gouge into the walls and absolutely demolish them. When I got to the stage entrance, a big burly security guard spotted me and tried to stop me. Now, a 6'6" 300 lbs man's size would normally intimidate most people. Haha! I was double his weight...TWO MONTHS AGO. I was easily tipping 950 lbs at this point and growing every minute. Those roids had done wonders! Doing one arm curls with a multi-hundred pound anchor chain attached to a Ford Escort had pushed my arms well beyond 120" and they were freakishly cut and vascular. When the guard put his hand on my chest to stop me, I simply lost it. Anger turned to pure rage as I started clenching my fists- how dare he try and stop me, the ULTIMATE beefcake from her destiny. Freaky veins turned nightmarish as all the steroids began to mix with my hatred for all things Olympia. The 300lb man didn't stand a chance as I walked right through him. The impact of my bulldozer-benching pectorals effortlessly sent the guard flying 15 feet out onto the brightly lit stage. He landed on top of the contestants, knocking a few to their feet. The commotion silenced the cheering crowd. As the MC turned to see the disturbance he nearly fainted at the sight of my giga-mass. My extreme tan contrasted perfectly with my bright white Nike Shox, red bikini top and booty shorts. I looked like a UFC ring-girl who absorbed the Hulk and then overdosed on Human Growth Hormone. Contestants eyed me with both awe and fear. The judges called for more security- two men similar to the first came rushing towards me. Something primal in me snapped as I grabbed each man by the throat and quickly threw them into the crowd below me. I stomped to the edge of the stage and leered down at the judges with a sadistic grin and evil glint in my smoky eyes. My heart began to race as steroid-filled blood coursed through my veins, compounding with my intense rage for the biggest pump of my life. "Look at me now! Am I too big for you now?" I roared, cranking down into THE most muscular pose. I reached down a hoisted up two of the judges by their shirt collars. Spit flying in their faces, I roared, "Look at the monster you've created, this is all thanks to you!" I obsessively began doing bicep curls with their pathetic bodies, pumping my biceps faster and faster. Their weight was far too light and only added to my intense need to make them feel my wrath! Both judges wet their pants and lost consciousness. Angered even more, I hurled the two bodies out into the stands, the impact surely crippling the judges. Seeing them lying their motionless fueled my lust for revenge, for more dominance and violence! Glaring out at the world over my multi-foot deep pectoral cleavage, I grabbed the microphone stand next to me and pulled from either end. The stretched metal sheared in half from the brute power and strength of my bare hands. Audience members and contestants screamed and ran. "Yes! Run! Be scared! Be VERY SCARED!!! You are about to witness the rise of a goddess! The rise of a MUSCLE MONSTER! I am a massively pumped-up muscle building powerhouse, and I. WILL. HAVE. MY. REVENGE!" Swinging my behemoth body I hurled the twisted metal shards at the rear exits, shattering windows and creating more chaos in the audience as they struggled to exit. With an earthshaking rumble, I leaped down from the stage- my now 1,200+ lbs weight cracking the concrete floor like egg shells and sending tremors that registered on the Richter scale. With an animalistic grunt, I overturned the judges table like it was cardboard, sending it careening end over end. Eyeing the carnage and destruction with equal parts glee and fury, my attention fell on my ultimate prize: the stage. Who knows how heavy a full stage is? No seriously...I want to know. There had to have been at least a full ton just in the weight of the dozen or so competitors still on stage. Punching my hands through the wood paneling, I found grip on a metal I-beam running the length of the stage. Roaring like a possessed demon, I began to lift the stage. Nothing. How dare this sorry excuse of human engineering defy me! Tensing my monolithic arms, shoulders and legs, I funneled even more horrific power into my insane musclebound body and began to heave up on the structure. Ever so slowly, more and more cracking could be heard and I redoubled my efforts- pouring even MORE god-shaming , titanic, monstrous strength into my incredibly pumped and still-growing muscles. "You thought I was too big before? HA!!! You think I'm big now? Well just wait, I'm only getting started! Mama Pump is here to show you all true power and mass!" With a horrible shearing noise, a large piece of stage splintered and broke off in my hands. After all, it wasn't built to be picked up in one piece...even if someone was actually strong enough to do so. "Pathetic! So weak!" With a maniacal laugh I beat my chest like King Kong and screamed at the futility of fragile steel. My muscles bloating and expanding and pumping bigger and bigger with every huff and puff. Fleeing audience members tripped as the auditoriums foundation shook from the force of my massively overpowered arms slamming into my wrecking-ball sized pecs. They had said I was too big. There was no such thing. A monster had been born, and I was going to keep pumping and growing until every single one of them regretted ever crossing me.
  20. lsgnobody

    The House (Part 6 - Jul/13)

    Ok. I have plans for this and hopefully can continue the story to the point I wanna take it. I hope y'all like it - and please let me know if you do. It's more of a "throwing out at the universe what you want and it will bring it back to you" kinda thing. Be gentle. I'm not a writer so there are cliches and maybe bad grammar. I'm all for criticism. Don't read it if you're uncomfortable with non-consensual stuff. PART 1 - PROLOGUE The first time I saw him it was like something lit up inside me. I don’t wanna sound childish but it had been so long since I felt butterflies in my stomach for anyone that I can’t help but feel childish. And it’s a good thing. It happens when you’re over 35, I guess. You stop fantasizing about meeting the love of your life and believing everything you’ve seen in Disney movies to go for something safe and secure. You also start trying harder to settle down and give less room for impulses and instant gratification. I’d say it’s part of maturing but there’s always a fine line between maturing and conforming with whatever you have. You know, going for security instead of dipping your feet in cold water. But I’m getting ahead of myself and should start from the beginning. I’ve been living with my boyfriend for 3 years now, we met when I was 34 and he’s a great guy. We met online and I was definitely not looking for a relationship at the time. He was just another decent looking guy among many others I met at the time. But he stayed. We eventually moved in together and had our ups and downs but nothing out of the ordinary. And we are now ready for the next step in our perfect ordinary life: we’re buying a house. - Are you ready? - he was fully dressed and had his sneakers on, good jeans and a shirt under a light jacket looked nice on him. He had put on some weight after we started dating but I was not complaining, so had I. He carried it well on his tall 6’1” frame and a little belly never hurt anyone. I know I was also carrying a little bit more weight than I was comfortable with but I guess that’s normal once you start settling down. - Almost done. I can’t say I didn’t like what I saw in the bathroom mirror while I fixed my hair. Though close to 38, I barely look a day over 25. Good genes, I guess. A head full of hair and a light brown beard that takes forever to grow go well with my pale, boyish features. The big eyes make me look more innocent than I actually am but they’re part of my charm. I open a big smile - my best feature, I’ve been told - for a final check in the mirror and I’m ready. A quick peck on his lips as I stand on my toes and we’re leaving our tiny apartment to start our perfect life together. We’re meeting our realtor downstairs who was kind enough to pick us up here to take us to what she promises will be the perfect house for us. It’s a two story old house just outside of town, pretty secluded, away from noisy loud neighbors and good real estate, with a big yard where a dog could run freely in the warmer months. We’re both excited and a little scared too. It’s a big step and money is tight, there’s no way I could pay both the rent and mortgage on a new place, so this has to work. After driving for 20 minutes I can finally see it and it is in worse shape than I’d thought. Sure, the black iron fence in front of it was a work of art but the garden was dense and the grass was too tall. The bricks outside don’t really need that much maintenance but the porch has seen better days, the painting pretty much non existent after many years of neglect but it’s a big porch that takes the whole front of the house. It’s pretty obvious the house’s been empty for a while and the only thing that doesn’t indicate it is the big chevy parked in the front lawn. The big red truck seems fit for the old place, it’s also seen some better days. - Don’t say anything yet until you see it from up close. I know the place doesn’t look incredible but the owner is getting it ready for sale. You know, fixing pipes and getting the structure ready. I’m sure you’ll see the potential. She didn’t wear her heels today, as the dampness outside made the way up to the porch muddy. She was definitely putting up a big smile to sell the place, and she needed it. At least from the outside, the place was looking much worse than what she made us believe. - Watch your step. - Patrick and I exchanged a look, speaking to each other without saying a word as only a couple could. Once we stepped inside, though, it was brilliant. The thick dust covering the ground could not hide how magnificent the entry hall was. The high ceiling, up to the second floor gave a spacious and imponent air to the house. The wooden floors and the obviously creaky stairs leading to the second floor couldn’t hide the fact that the place had a lot of work to do, yes, but it had its charm the way only old houses have. BANG. - Don’t mind the noise! The boys are fixing and painting the place so you get a head start for when you decide to keep it. BANG. We climbed the creaky stairs to the second floor to take a look at the four bedrooms. I was immediately in love with the master suite with a huge glass window overlooking the backyard. The shed in the middle of what used to be a garden, now a mess of grass and plants tall enough to be knee high, was open. - Is there anyone living here now? - Patrick noticed that the area around the shed had been cleaned out of the grass and sheets were hanging in the cold sun in front of it. - One of the workers is spending the night in the shed, he’ll be out in a few months, as soon as work is done. - Months, you say? - There’s a lot to do, Leo. - I didn’t like the kind of patronizing way she talked to me - But you can always move in upstairs and start using the second floor as your living space. The kitchen downstairs is fully functional. - She looked at my boyfriend, certain that he would have the final word in our decision. I never got used to it, but being 5’6” and looking so much younger had me used to it. BANG. Little did she know that I made more money than he did and his relaxed aloof nature burdened me with deciding everything for us. As far as he was concerned, he was fine in our apartment and didn’t mind the noisy neighbours or how small it was. His job at the convenience store was more than enough to pay for a beer on weekends and he would never make a big decision on his own. In the second bedroom we met the painter. Tony was around 45 and in great shape, his job clearly not the only exercise responsible for his slim body. - I’m sorry I can’t shake your hands but I hope you like the place. We’re getting it ready for you. - he held a painting roll in one of the hands and showed the other one, sprinkled with white paint, with a warm smile from someone who’s lived in the countryside his whole life. - Name’s Tony. Sorry the place is not ready yet but there’s only two of us working here. - Leo, nice to meet you Tony. - Tony was taller than me, maybe 6’0 as he was still shorter than Patrick. As the rest of the house, he’d seen better days. The salt and pepper hair framed face was marked as if he’d spent too much time under the sun. I couldn’t see much of his body, covered in a sweater sprinkled with all possible paint colors imaginable. - Don’t mind the noise downstairs, Alex is bringing down the wall between the kitchen and the dining room so you have one big open space. Oh, so that’s what this is. The bangs stopped and I heard heavy footsteps followed by the doors sliding. While Tony explained with more details than I could understand all the work that they had already done, I went downstairs, following the noise. I saw the damage in the dining room wall, partially down with a huge hole from where you could see the kitchen. Tearing the wall down was gonna make the large room even bigger and through the dust I could picture exactly where every piece of furniture was gonna be. The weirdest illusion was caused by the dust. In the white dust covering the darker wooden floors there were footprints leading to the dining room’s sliding glass doors. The size of the prints were huge. I stepped into one of the prints on the ground and it was so much bigger than mine that you could see the dusty outline around my own foot. I could almost fit both my feet inside of it. I didn’t give it much attention as it was so out of the ordinary, the marks were probably made by dragging. Alex, whoever he was, must have been carrying something heavy outside. I slid the doors myself and proceeded to the backyard towards the open shed. The wind quickly hit my face - damn I hate the winter - and I shivered with the cold. A passageway through the tall grass led to the shed and I looked down, afraid of stepping on a root of the tall oak tree that guarded the shed, making my way out there as quickly as I could, bothered by cold winter air. I could hear music from a radio coming from the shed and I had to move away the sheets hanging outside to continue through the passageway. As I got closer I noticed that those weren’t sheets but the biggest white shirts I’ve seen. It could fit two, maybe three of me inside one of them. I was curious. Tony is too small for those. Before I could reach the shed I saw him. Lifting my eyes from the grass I saw the big pair of black boots. He was stepping out of the shed and the whole picture was disorienting. The shed, in comparison, looked much smaller as he had to duck to get through the door, sliding outside two ample shoulders, one at a time. This was the biggest person I’ve seen in my life. Not only impossibly tall but, contrary to most tall people, he was BIG. Calves as thick as my thighs made the big pair of jeans seem too tight. His own thighs were proportionally as big, looking powerful enough to carry his heavy upper body. The immense T-shirts that looked ridiculously big hanging just behind me held every curve of his body, not too tight but perfectly. I could make out love handles and what seemed to be the start of a gut. He immediately extended one large hand my way, as if asking me to jump and hang on to it from the grass to the pavement around the shed, and my eyes followed very hairy thick forearms and even thicker arms. He was not jacked, by any means. The guy was just huge, the kind of build that you don’t get from working out, and as I got closer, I was making an effort to register how big he was. Though he had the hand extended in front of me, his face was stern and it was not a handsome face at all. In a millisecond I studied his features. A big nose coming out of plump cheeks and a line for a mouth, his unkept beard was patchy and growing bigger on his neck other than on his round face. Above the nose he had a line, the result of an over pronounced front that gave him an unwelcoming look, casting a shadow over his small blue eyes. The dusty hair on top of his head was a light shade of brown, made even lighter by the coat of white dust on top of it. His darkened skin made me think he was maybe middle eastern, maybe mixed. He was not a handsome man. Not at all. But still he was so tall that it was impossible not to stare at him. There was so much to look at, from the chest hair scaping the top of his t-shirt to the dirty nails of the humongous hand extended in front of me. I got closer and extended a hand, which he gladly grabbed and engulfed in his, his thumb touching his other finger while holding my hand. I winced when he squeezed a little too hard, looking at him a little disconcerted. He smirked. - Alex. - the big guy said, so deep and low that it was a rumble more than a voice. - Leo, nice to meet you. - I noticed I was speaking too loud. Maybe in an attempt to look bigger myself. My 5’6” put my eyes right under his chest, that while not slabs of defined pecs where just as thick as the rest of his body. - If I knew you were coming to see the place, I would have finished bringing down the wall. We’re a little behind. - It’s okay. I couldn’t think of anything. My mind was blank, taking in this whole guy as he was still holding my hand for an uncomfortable long time and I tried desperately to think of something, anything to say. - You’re tall. Damn it. - Yeah, I get that a lot. - he squeezed my hand again and my eyes were drawn again to the humongous hand that was holding mine, and as if I had just been burned I pulled it towards me roughly. When he still held it in place I looked back at his eyes and he realised he was holding me there, letting my hand go. - Are you living here? - Don’t worry, I’ll be here only until we’re done with the renovations. I still looked at him, studying his face as if he was on display, maybe even being rude as I stared, in a kind of stupor. - What do you think? - the squeaky voice of the realtor called from behind me. I quickly looked back and turned around, tripping on my own foot as I did it. As I lost balance and started falling face first on the ground, the big hand came under me, covering my whole chest, it seemed. I felt my whole face getting red immediately and forgot about the cold weather for a second. I looked at his face and faked a smile, his face didn’t change at all. - We’ll take it. We moved in the following week. While I was able to take time off from my job, Patrick wasn’t so lucky so I had to do it on my own. There was no money to hire anyone but Tony was happy to help. Patrick didn’t seem so happy he was around but I wouldn’t complain as I could never lift my sofa alone. I learned that Patrick and Alex shared the shed, built temporarily by the contractor company to house them. - The guy is too quiet - Patrick went - and I need people to talk. Snores like a son of a bitch too. And talk he did. The whole week, while I visited every day, he went on and on about how he lived a city away but found the commute too much, so agreed to stay in the shed. Divorced, 2 kids. Into muscle cars, other than painting he did all kinds of maintenance and knew his way around an engine too. He told me of a 1956 Buick that was his pride and joy but in shambles, so all his spare time was spent on working on the car. As for the house itself, it was practically done. While the exterior still looked like a set for a slasher movie, inside it was finished and… livable. Tony and I had everything furnitured and I was excited with the housewarming party planned for later in the evening. The one room that never seemed to be finished was the downstairs bathroom, which is why Tony agreed to get ready in our ensuite; he would obviously stay for the night. Alex didn’t help with the furniture, instead he was locked inside the tiny downstairs bathroom the whole week. I would steal a glance every now and then and find this humongous man, sweaty white wife beater on, tiling the walls for what seemed an eternity. Not a hard worker, definitely. With his expansive body occupying most of the room, though, there’d be no way a ladder would also fit in and yet he reached the ceiling pretty easily so I guess he found his niche. He indeed kept to himself and all I got from him was a grumpy “good morning” while he grabbed something I had brought over for breakfast and drank a cup of coffee from a freshly made pot I left at the kitchen counter. Last day of “moving”, at 5PM, Tony went upstairs to freshen up, Alex went back to the shed, I started cooking and soon after Patrik came from work with booze he brought for the night. At 8PM our friends started arriving. A small group: some guys from Patrik’s gym (even though he never went there), a few people from the office (rare occasion when accountants leave their houses). Drinks, good food, music and laughter filled the house. Tony joined in and it was like he’d always been part of the group, I can tell a lot of my single girlfriends stole glances at the fit older guy and he relished in it, being the center of attention in a group of swooning ladies. Alex was nowhere to be seen, locked in the shed outside. At 10PM I was more than a little tipsy - not used to drinking, you know. I stumbled to the kitchen for a refill and stopped on my feet at what I saw. Patrik had his pants down his ankles, one of the gym guys ramming his ass, his face contorted in pleasure and bliss in a way I remember seeing in our first years together. My first reaction was to throw the empty glass I had in my hands towards them. - What the fuck! - The glass hit gym guy in the head. He immediately put his pants up and came towards me. I never had time to avoid the punch straight to my eye and fell backwards. Someone screamed. Tony came out of nowhere and hit the gym guy. They started fighting. I saw everything from the ground up, the pants and button down shirts of my workmates looking at me from above with their surprised judgemental faces, Tony throwing punches at the guy as Patrik struggled to wear back his pants. The women started to scream at the violence to which the punches were being exchanged and the whole scene was a hazy mess for my drunk mind to remember correctly. 15 minutes later, I was in my bed, brought over by Tony. Everyone downstairs, including Patrik, had left the house. - Rough night, buddy - his slightly swollen face from the earlier punches made him squint a little while he smiled, sitting beside me on the bed. - Tony, I’m so sorry for th… - Hey, don’t worry, dude! The guy’s an asshole. I hope you don’t mind, I threw him out for the night, you both can figure things out later. You know it’s my last day here and I can’t stay the night but Alex will be downstairs in the shed if you need anything. - Hey - Alex had his arms crossed, his shoulders rubbing the door frame, his head inside the room, the same non expressive way. - Again, I’m so sorry. And thank you for that. - No sweat, buddy. Call for Alex if you need anything. I didn’t. I cried the whole night long, feeling unloved and maybe deserving of the kind of shit that happened tonight. I could extend myself on how lost a person feels when they have to completely change their life plans but I don’t want to go there. Instead, I went back to my regular activities as best as I could. The office let me know that I should take 2 more weeks off. I filled my loneliness with yard work, painting and generally cleaning whatever Alex was still working on that day. This was my house, after all, and life goes on. I’d still have breakfast ready in the morning for when Alex came from the shed to work in the bathroom. He devoured most of it, drank his cup of coffee and spent the day locked in there. So much so that it started to bother me. How long would it take? I honestly would review his work day after day and find that there was barely anything done. I decided to confront him. It was during a lunch break Alex and I were at the table. I had prepared food for an army - he ate a lot - and he was chewing a whole turkey leg when I asked: - So, can you give me a deadline as to when the bathroom is gonna be ready? - It will be ready when I’m done. - Sure, yeah… when is it gonna be? - Relax, little guy, I’m going as fast as I can. - fucker. Who the fuck is he calling little guy? - Alex, you’re not going fast enough. I should hire someone else to help you. He dropped the turkey leg with a thud, looking as menacing as a guy his size can look: - You don’t need anyone else. I’ll finish the fucking job. - I can’t keep fucking paying you when yours is the only job that doesn’t seem to end. Money is tight. - Fine. Don’t pay me. I’ll finish the fucking job. - What’s wrong with you? You wanna work for free? Or is it the shed? Where do you live? - Why do you care? I’m telling you I’ll finish the bathroom and I won’t charge you extra for it. - I care cause you’re at my house. It’s been more than a week since I got it, don’t you have a family to go back to? - No family. I live on my own. - Ok. And where is it? He stood up, impossibly tall. His mouth greasy from the turkey. The expansive body walking towards me. Sitting down at the table where I was, I was looking slightly below his crotch. Fuck, this guy was terrifying. - Boy, I don’t have a house. I’m living in your shed. You wanna throw me out, do it. Fucking happy? - and he stormed out. I wasn’t expecting that. And being so closed off as he was, I figured he just kept so quiet cause he perhaps felt ashamed of his financial situation. Fuck… I went through hard times before. Nothing to be ashamed of. One day you’re down, the other you bounce back. The big fucker was an asshole but feeling bad I went after him, to find him inside the shed, lying on his bed, the part below his knees hanging from the bottom of it. - Dude, if you need a place to stay, you can stay here. You don’t have to stall your work in the bathroom to stay longer. Fuck, it’s a big house for me alone, I don’t mind the company. - I ain’t gay, boy. Fucker. - What does it have to do with anything, I’m not asking to suck your fucking cock. I’m offering you a place to stay. There’s a guest room. You don’t have to stay at the shed, asshole. - Huh. - Was it a laugh? More of a chuckle. - you’re alright. He extended a huge hand as a peace offering. I shook his back, my hand once again engulfed by his. And from that moment on, our relationship changed completely. Turns out he was not living his best years either. House maintenance was never his trade and he took the job cause Tony was a close friend and helped him out, both in teaching him the skills and finding him a place to live. While he was still quiet most of the time, he moved into the guest room. We’d spend a few nights watching cheesy Netflix shows I’d show him or some rugby match he wanted. He’d explain to me the rules and comment on the plays, we shared a few beers, and called it a night. As days went by, he felt more at ease with me and I with him. Every day, after tending to the garden, I’d occupy myself with cooking and, man, was it satisfying to cook for this guy. He ate like an animal, and even started complimenting my food. I was happy to oblige. Two weeks went by and Alex never touched on the subject of moving out. I never asked either. I enjoyed having someone to keep me company and, now with the bathroom finally done and being well fed, he took whatever extra time he had to the gym in the nearby town. He’d arrive late in the afternoon after spending hours there. I had dinner ready, which he ate in minutes and moved to the couch with a few beers for our movie night. Having him sitting by my side I kept looking at how much bigger his thighs were than mine, and how my feet dangled from the couch while his thighs barely touched it. His monstrous feet made mine look like a kid’s. Whenever he’d extend his arm to the back of the sofa, I’d smell his manly scent and get hard thinking about how effortlessly manly he was. More than once our TV night would end with me beating one up back at my room, furiously thinking about him. It was also two weeks later that I received a letter from the company I worked for, explaining in very polite words that they would not be admitting me back. My savings weren’t much but I wasn’t desperate, at least if I had to tend to my own and no one else. With both of us there, I could probably provide for about 6 months. I’m trying to think rationally. But the truth is that I had nowhere to hold on to the life I’d known. I had a mortgage to pay, no job, no boyfriend, my family and friends at least a plane flight away. - I’m home! - Alex opened the front door drenched in sweat from the gym. He found me sitting on the sofa, head between my hands. - The fuck happened, Leo? - I’m out of a job, Alex. I’m out of my fucking job. What am I gonna do? - Those fuckers didn’t deserve you anyway. Don’t sweat it. You’ll be fine. - I moved here just because I could work from home. Where am I supposed to find another job that pays as much and allows me that? We’re in the middle of nowhere. I’m so fucked. - You’ll manage. You’re a smart guy. Is dinner ready? - No, you big dumb fuck! Dinner is not ready! What do you know about working things out? You’ve been freeloading here for two weeks! - Watch your words, little guy. - Little guy my ass! I’ve got enough to worry about now than your fucking dinner! Get yourself a fucking maid to cook for you. He jumped so quick in front of me that I first saw the shadow his big body cast over me. He put both hands on my shoulders and lifted me up to my feet. My face slightly below his beefy chest. I look up at his serious plump face. - What? You don’t think I’ve been a good friend keeping you company all this time? You think I’m freeloading now, don’t you, boy? It’s fucking time you wake up and take control of your life. - And what do you suggest? Find a fucker to live off of his house? He squeezed my shoulders tighter. - You think I don’t know what I want? I do. And I’ll have it. And I’d fucking hit you for the way you’re talking ot me right now but when you allowed me to stay here, you reminded me that I had goals. So that’s what I’m gonna do to you right now. He let go of my shoulders and I fell back seated on the sofa. He walked to the kitchen and returned with a bottle of vodka and two glasses. - But I’m not good ‘bout talking. So we’re gonna need this. He filled both shot glasses and drank one of them. - Go ahead. - No. - Fucking do it! His voice was so deep and commanding I immediately downed my glass, coughing at the end of it. - Good. Now. What is it that you want, Leo? - What do you mean? - For life. What do you want your life to be? - I… I don’t know. I wanted a house, and a dog and a partner that would be my family. - Well, you got the house. And I’m a fucking dog sometimes. Hehe. So I guess you need dick, right? - Shut up, fucker. - Hahaha. It’s dick that you need. Shame I’m straight. I could have that for ya. - You’re not really drowning in pussy too, asshole. - Hahahaha. That’s true. - shot. But we’re talking bout you. What is it that you want for life? - I… I… - shot - I don’t know. - What makes you happy? - I don’t know. I planned this house, I planned getting married to my boyfriend, I planned living a normal life. - Do you want a normal life? - I don’t know anymore. - Let me help you - shot. You see I’m a big guy, right? Fuck yeah, I see it. It drives me fucking mad sometimes. - Yeah. - I like being big. It makes me happy. A couple years ago I was into bodybuilding. But then I found out I wasn’t into all the attention. And I stopped doing it. But I still like being big. When you told me to stay here even though I had nothing to offer, it made me wanna be a better person. So I started working out again to be my best self. - Ok - shot. - And hey, I figured since you’re gay and all, I’d give you somethin better to look at. Hehe. So I wanna look nicer, cause that’s what I can offer. Huh. - I don’t know what I’m good at. - Well, you’re a goddamn good cook, I can tell you that. - shot. - Huh… thanks, I guess. I like cooking. - And I like eating. See, one day at a time, boy. You’ll find out what you wanna do eventually. He sat closer by my side and extended an arm over to my shoulder this time, pulling me closer. - You need me to find you some dick? There’s a couple guys at the gym who’d fuck you. - WHAT? No! (yes) - shot. - Hey, no shame in admitting you need cock. When’s the last time you had some? - I don’t know, a couple months maybe? - And that boyfriend of yours? - We weren’t having sex for a while… I guess we know why. - shot. - Hahaha. Fucker was having his. But don’t mind him. I heard he was taking up the ass. He wasn’t man enough for ya. - Fucker - shot - just cause I’m short doesn’t mean I can’t be a top. - Hahahaha. Now that would be funny, wouldn’t it? Stand up! He got up and pulled me up along with him. He had his back to my front and his ample round ass was at my chest level. - Now, how’re you gonna fuck someone like this? You can’t even reach! Hahaha - That’s cause you’re the biggest fucker I’ve ever known! - Damn right I am. And I’m gonna get bigger too. Tell me I’m big. - You’re fucking huge, you big lug. - Not nearly big enough. I’m tall, ya. That’s a given. But I’m gonna be big. Fucking bigger. The whole demeanor he had from when we met up to when he moved into the house completely changed. He exuded confidence, every act, from his deep baritone voice to the way he held my body pressed against the mounds that were his glutes, to his boozy laughter by having me in such position. It was kind of emasculating for me. And I felt conflicted about it. I pushed him away by punching his kidney. The laugh stopped, he immediately turned around and looked down at me from above. - Do you know how tall I am? - No. - I’m 7’6”. What are you? 6’? - 5’6” - Fuck, you’re tiny. I feel even bigger looking down at you like this. Do you know why you don’t see me drowning in pussy, as you said? - No. - Cause I don’t care about them. I’m no fag either. I don’t know what I am. I like me. I like being a huge fucker. He started walking toward me, pushing my body against him to the wall. I felt from the bottom of my chest almost up to my chin that he was hard. He was hard and looked mad. - You think I’m big? - Yes. - I am. You feel this big cock? - Yes. - I can see you like it too.- he flicked a thumb over my comparatively small hard-on. - And I like looking down on you, and everyone else. It makes me hard. It makes me in charge. He grabbed me from under my arms and effortlessly lifted me to his face. So close I could smell the vodka on his breath. - I’m gonna give you some dick today. And tomorrow we’re gonna talk about what makes you happy. - he put me over his shoulders and unloaded me on the floor, right in front of the couch. He sat with his logs for legs spread open and undid his pants, exposing the biggest dick I’ve ever seen in my life. - I don’t… - slap. He probably didn’t mean to but his hand was so big that when he tried to cover my mouth with his hand, he slapped me hard enough that a single tear immediately ran down my cheek. - Suck. His hand covered the entirety of the back of my head and he thrusted it towards his log. I opened my mouth as wide as I could but the roughness of it made the corners of my mouth stretch and sting at the sides. My nose buried in his pubes, he thrusted so furiously I was gasping for air. I started to gag under his chuckling. Grabbing my hair, he looked at my teary face: - We’ll find something you’re good at. I’ll give you something to be happy about. I’ll make you useful. He ravaged my mouth even deeper, both hands on the back of my head. I furiously held his freakishly thick hairy forearms and tried to pull away to no avail. I punched his thighs, so large from this close I felt like I was punching a tree trunk. The smirk never left his face. He chuckled louder at each attempt of release. - Take it, tiny fuck. Take a man’s cock. He was grunting and increasing the intensity and force of his thrusts. - I’m back to the gym and eating like a horse, I’ll be back to my huge days in no time - I could barely see anything while gagging so much. Both of my eyes foggy with tears. - Gonna be so fucking huge… so… fucking… huge - His deep, guttural grunts got louder and louder and I felt a gush of cum way beyond the back of my throat - BIGGER - I was gasping for air. Desperate - BIGGER - He’s gonna kill me. I can’t take it anymore - BIGGER - Too big. Too strong. Too much. It all went black. PART 2 - ROLES Looking at my face in the mirror the next morning I could clearly see where he slapped me last night. It was there. He was forceful and I never consented to anything. It was wrong. And yet, as my fingers felt the small damage he left on my face, all I could think of was how big he was and, more than that, how much bigger he wanted to become. And that got me instantly hard. I can’t. I can’t think with my dick. I can’t ignore the fact that I barely knew this man and what he was capable of. Yes, we spent nearly a month living together - but then again, I think I was so much in need of human contact that I lacked the judgement of character towards him. And I had to put an end to it. I had to send him away. I left my room upstairs and walked down the hallway past one, two empty rooms. It was a big house. The third door was half open. It’s Alex’s room. Is he up? Is he still there? Should I look? I unintentionally started walking on my tip toes as I approached his door, trying not to make any noise, in case he was still there. A quick glance through the open door. Yes. He’s still sleeping. He’s sleeping on his side, turned the other way. He looks comically big for the mattress he sleeps in. He must have brought it over from the shed. And his back… I don’t remember seeing him with his shirt off before. He’s got patches of hair on his back, right under his shoulder blades. And it’s such an expansive back. How can he even sleep on his side? We don’t even look the same species. And his neck is so thick. I can see it rolls right before his hair starts coming up. He’s covered from his lower back down, I can’t see much more. I shouldn’t be looking. I should keep waking. Keep walking. - Leo! - his deep bass voice came from inside the room and I froze dead on my feet. - Leo, come here! What do I do? What do I do? - What? - Come here! I fully opened the door to find him looking at me, still sleepy, big meaty chest in full view. - Sit. The closer I got to him the bigger he seemed to get and, by the time I sat on the edge of the mattress I was visibly shaking. Not in fear, no. It wasn’t as simple as fear. I felt uneasy, an impending doom sensation, overwhelmed by him and what happened the night before. - Listen, about what happened yesterday… - I want you out. - What? - Leave my house. - Wait, let’s talk about this. - There’s nothing to talk about. I need you out by the end of the day. I stood up to leave the room and he tried to hold my arms. Instinctively I pulled away and walked towards the door. My legs moved on their own, my breath was accelerated and that overwhelming sensation of urgency took over. I practically ran towards the door. Thump. Thump. His arm extended over my head and immediately banged the door with such force I saw splinters flying. Thump. Another step and he pushed me towards the door, pressing me against it with his body. It was a second. His waist pressing just under my shoulders. For a second I knew I couldn’t move up until he decided I could. When he stepped back and I turned around I mustered all the courage I had within me to look up at him. - What? Are you gonna fucking hit me? Get it over with. - No! I’m not gonna hit you! His frame filled my field of vision completely. It was overwhelming. He slept in his briefs. I had never seen him without his clothes on. Though his forearms were so hairy, his chest was not as much. There was a light coat of hair over his plump chest, almost making a triangle right in the center. More hair over his belly. He was thick and plump all over. Not the kind of body type you’d see in someone his height. He looked just so round and sturdy, bulky all over, that hairy belly escaping his briefs on the sides. Unexpectedly, he lowered himself on his knees, sitting on his heels, so we were looking eye to eye. - Calm down. We need to talk. This move made some of the excitement go away. He waited until my breath was back to normal. - Hit me. - What? - Right here. Hit me. Give it all you got. - he touched the left side of his chest and looked at my disoriented face. - Hit me. - What, no, you’re crazy. - HIT ME. - his voice was so deep, so commanding. I punched him. - HARDER. - I punched him again. - HARDER. I used both my fists this time, punching him over and over again on both sides of his chest. My fists looked small against the wall of flesh in front of me. I was expecting it to be softer but as I kept punching, he flexed the round mounds of beef to make them harder. I gave it all I had, punching it over and over and watching as the upper part of his chest swelled while he flexed. - HARDER. At the same time it sounded like an order, a smirk was forming on his face. He chuckled. The smirk made him look almost arrogant but playful at the same time. And I punched him over and over until all my rage was gone and I felt tired. - Humph. There. Better? - You’re an asshole. That damn smirk. - Don’t act like you didn’t like it. You were hard the whole time, at least till you passed out. - I want to hurt you. - Punch me again. Try it. You can’t. I did, as hard as I could. Nothing. It wasn’t like punching a wall, a wall was harder. His big, plump chest was covered in a more than subtle layer of fat. The wall was underneath it. With this last punch his big meaty hand went immediately to his cock to adjust it. He was getting hard. - You can’t hurt me. And you know you can’t hurt me. Tell me how you feel. - Helpless. - I have that effect on people. Tell me more. - Overwhelmed. Confused. I don’t know what to do. - You want control. - What? - You want to control everything. - What do you mean? - Look at this house. You have four bedrooms for you alone. I’m in one of them, the other two are empty but spotless. - I’m clean. - You’re obsessively cleaning every nook and cranny of this place. You have breakfast, lunch, dinner done at the same exact time every day. - I’m not working, I need a routine. - What for? - To keep my plans in order. - What are your plans? - I… I don’t have any yet. - So why the routine? - So I can come up with something. - Why do you need to come up with something? - I don’t know. I’m not working, money is limited, there's a mortgage to pay. - I told you. You’ll figure it out. You’re a smart guy. You don’t give yourself enough credit. Just stop whining about it. And I’m not moving out. - What? - You heard me. - He lifted himself up from his knees. And up, and up. - I’m not moving out. I like it here. And I know you like me here too. He… he just said that. As if it were true. Who the fuck does he think he is? He can’t. Should I call the police? I certainly can’t throw him out myself. Should I call someone? Who would I call? Someone from work? I don’t even work there anymore. A friend? They’re so far away. Tony? Tony! Tony knows him. Tony’s a decent guy. I’ll call Tony. - What? You think I don’t know you’re hot for me? You think you’re the first tiny gay guy I’ve seen? - So you’re gay now? - I told you. I’m not into guys. I’m not into girls either. - What does that even mean? - I’m into me. My own body gets me hard. - What? How does that even work? You’re a narcissistic fuck, that’s what you are! - Damn right I am. And a big one. - Let me out. - No. Punch me again. He didn’t have to ask me twice. I gave it everything I had and punched him as hard as I could, right in the middle of that big hairy belly. It bounced a little. Again, a wall behind the layer of fat. He didn’t flinch. - You can’t hurt me. You can’t move me, I’m too big for you. - he took a step forward, taking me along with him and pressing my head in between the door and that belly. So big. I pushed him, I started punching him as hard as I could from the sides. Nothing. Immovable. - Fuck yeah. Try harder. You can’t move me. I’m so fucking strong. I was losing my breath pressed against his belly, feeling that the door would give up before he did. He filled the whole door frame with his back. When I thought I couldn’t hold my breath anymore, he finally stepped back and quickly held me in place with a huge hand behind my neck before I could fall down. He looked down at me, examining every inch of my body. I felt suddenly very self conscious, my body being so comparatively smaller than his. His bulge noticeably got bigger as he spoke. He forced my body right in front of his again, the space I occupied in between his bulk and the door seemingly getting smaller. With now both hands circling my neck, he forced his arms inwards. While he was not applying any more pressure to my neck, his chest reacted immediately to this, rising up, forming mounds of muscle that now covered my view of his face. - It’s so fucking hot that I could do whatever I wanted with you. You know that. You feel it too. Look at how small you are compared to me. You’re not a small man, not at all. You’re average in every way. You’re normal. Tell me how you feel about your body. - I don’t like the extra weight I gained since I started dating. I feel fat. He chuckled again. - See, that’s where we’re different. I don’t mind the extra weight. I want it. It makes me even bigger. And you’ve been feeding me well. How long has it been? A month? - Since what? - Since I started working out again, and eating better than ever with your cooking. It’s been a month. And I like the results. Did you know I gained 10 pounds this month alone? Did you know you’ve been making me bigger? And stronger? - I… I noticed… - Yes, you did. And you like it too. You like having a big, strong man around the house to cater to. You like the feeling of security. I see the admiration in your glances. You think I don’t notice but I do. And I like it. - I… I do think you’re.. Very tall. - Is that all? - You… you look strong too. - You have no idea. - He moved one hand away from my neck to flex one biceps. There was no peak to be seen. Instead, just a big, round mound of an arm leading to his hairy armpit. - Look at this arm. Look at how big it is. It’s very strong too. I’m a fucking monster, that’s what I am. - his dick was now so hard I could see its big, plump, dark head peeking over the elastic on his briefs. - It’s… it’s incredible. I’ve never seen anyone as big as you. - And this is nothing. I’m gonna get bigger. Much, much bigger. I wanna get bigger by the day. I want you to be so overwhelmed to be in my presence you find your place in life. Do you know what it is, boy? - I… I… - You need to serve a higher purpose. That’s what you need. Do you need a plan? Here’s your plan. You’ll work to make me bigger. You’ll make me the monster I’m destined to be. And you’ll enjoy every step of the way. - So big… - Yes. Take your clothes off. I clumsily removed my checkered pajamas. From above, he watched, attentively, my slightly overweight body getting exposed. I couldn’t hide my hard on in any way. I was incredibly hard, overwhelmed, his expansive form making me feel so out of place, so inadequate. - I knew it - chuckle - you’re hard for this mass. You like your men big then, don’t you? Admit it. - Yes. - You like being overpowered. - Yes. - You like looking up at me and knowing you’ll never be as much of a man as I am. You know I can take whatever I want from you. You know you’re lucky. Any tiny faggot would pay money to be in your place. But I chose you. - Yes. - So fucking please me. Take my briefs off. I struggled to get his underwear off, my hands shaking way too much while I did it, overwhelmed by the feeling of superiority he had over me. How could a man be so tall? So bulky? And how much bigger could he get? The mere thought of it made me leak pre cum as I went down to my knees to pass the underwear under his right foot. - Stay on your knees. Look up. Open you fucking mouth. I did as commanded. His cock way too large to fit in my mouth naturally. There it was again, stretching my mouth to its limits. Now I didn’t feel scared. Suddenly my desire to please him grew stronger than my fear. I was accepting. I tried to look up and see him feeling his own huge body with his hands, raising his fists in a double biceps pose. His legs spread apart so he could lower his dick right into my mouth. And he started ramming it mindlessly. He didn’t look at me once. His eyes went from one big arm to another. His hand behind my neck pressing me head against that monster of a cock until tears started coming from my eyes again. Too much. Not again. I was going out of breath again, yet, all I could think of was being careful enough not to let my teeth ruin his pleasure. Trying to take it all it, from the unbelievable huge feet by my side to the thighs, so close to my face and yet so much bigger than my head. - You’re not passing out on me again. - he pulled me off of his dick, roughly scraped the tears off of my face and brought me up again, each of his big, meaty forearms under my own arms, lifting me off of the ground, his palms open against the door, holding me in place. His eyes looked more menacing now but I didn’t care. I was overwhelmed by his size, his power, his manliness, the man smell I felt coming from his body, the powerlessness of a moment that made me forget about my need for control. How could I control anything with someone like him around? He slides his dick in between my thighs, getting closer and smashing me against the door with each thrust, looking deep into my eyes. His soft, hairy belly rubbing against my own comparatively small dick, the sensation of being completely under this massive man’s control. - I’m gonna be a fucking bull. I’m gonna be so big men will get on their knees by the mere sight of my body. - thrust - I’ll live to eat, sleep, fuck and grow - thrust - that’s what I’m meant to be - thrust - and when you think I’ve grown too big - thrust - I’ll grow more - thrust - more massive - thrust - more dominant - thrust - AHhhh - thrust - More manly… Ahhh… - thrust - MOOORE…. With my feet off of the ground and being held up by his massive, plump, bulky body only, I came, humiliated by all that was around me, by all this man, this incredible, overwhelming mass of a man. His thick, meaty dick pulsed against my thighs and he grunted, loud and in an animal way. I felt the smell and warmth of his breath on my nose, the spams of his strong, bulky body against mine. And another, and another. He came so much. And when it was over, he stepped back, letting my body fall on the floor. From below I watched his moist leaking dick still hard, a smirk on his round face looking down at me, making me vulnerable with his stare. The epitome of a man. His rough, patchy shaggy beard covering that thick neck, the shine in between his pecs. - Starting today, you’ll cook for my growth. You’ll work for my growth, and only for my growth. I want a gym built in here. And I want this room covered in mirrors. Figure it out. Now get up and go make me breakfast. PART 3 - MOVEMENT - Yes, it’s been great. He’s easy to be around and I don’t mind the company. It’s nice having someone here in the middle of nowhere. - Nah, thank you again. It’s cool that you brought him in with you, man. Really nice of you. I mean, I know Alex is a good guy and all but I know he can be a lot. - He’s really helpful, I mean, look around! This place is finally taking shape. __________________ It was close to midday and, as usual, I had been busy with food prepping since 10:30. Other than Alex, four other men were working tirelessly outside building what would become the property’s gym. A month prior, Alex’s room in the second floor was converted into “the mirrored room”. We now had my former master bedroom, with the bed replaced by a king size where Alex spent his nights, along with a single bed by the corner where I slept. There were also mirrors covering one of the walls of the master bedroom, facing its footing. The mirrored room itself was basically covered in mirrors from every side, including the ceiling. On the floor a made to measure futon that occupied the whole space along with some bean bags and pillows, and a large TV fixed on the wall where a large group of people could comfortably sit to watch a movie. He made it so that the mirrors could be covered by automated blinders for such occasions. I had put together the savings corresponding to four months of comfortable living to make the adjustments he requested, along with buying all the raw material for the construction of the gym. - You worry about having everything I need here. I’ll worry about construction and do it exactly the way I want it. And that he did. I wasn’t spending a dime on man-hours, his 2 friends from the gym along with Tony, right in front of me, were taking care of everything. I also managed to secure all equipment from a recently closed gym by researching online and, while it was not top notch new equipment, that 4 man crew had sanders, paint, concrete molds and the ability to build and customize the equipment from the basis I provided. My daily routine would be spent mostly cooking - you wouldn’t believe how demanding the nutritional needs of a man this big can be - while watching the men working outside. Did I secretly desire it would be a hot day, so they’d work with their shirts off? Most certainly, yes. And shirt or no shirt, they’d work like tireless men with a goal in mind. And tonight we’d celebrate concluding the endeavor with a nice barbecue and beer for everyone. __________________ - And, you know, other than me - Tony continued - Alex didn’t connect with many people after everything that happened. He kept mostly to himself, which is pretty hard at his size. The guy is a fucking beacon of attention anywhere he goes. I don’t think he likes it. __________________ Though I was conflicted at first with the kind of relationship I could expect from Alex, the truth is that whenever he wasn’t horny, we were buddies. We would still watch TV every night. Now and then he would hug me while the movie was on, sometimes he would hug me too tight, chuckle while I squirmed to get off of his grasp. Other times he’s asked me to watch the movie sitting on the floor by his feet, while massaging them. We’d still chat about amenities while I caressed his feet. He’d tell me how much he was benching, in between sips of beer. More than once I fell asleep, either by his side or sitting between his legs, on the floor, my head laying on his thigh. He’d then pick me up and bring me upstairs, tugging me to my bed before going to his. The first time he entered the mirrored room he immediately got hard. He was back from the gym, still sweaty, looking at himself from every angle. - Come here. Stand by my side. It’s impressive how much difference two months of hard work and good nutrition make. He was visibly more toned. Some of the extra layer of fat he used to carry either wasn’t there or was less noticeable, given that his already humongous back looked even more expansive and his shoulders were now two very visible and definable boulders of muscle on top of the meaty arms. Now, when he flexed, his peak was higher than I’d ever seen. Just standing relaxed, with the arms by his side, he assumed that so common bodybuilder stance with his arms slightly arched over his wings, fighting space with the unbelievably developed triceps. - Ever heard of muscle memory, boy? Looks like mine remembers it way too well. Fuck, I’m huge! - In a frenzy he grabbed both of my shoulders and positioned my body in front of his. I was shocked to see how much of him I could still see behind me. He brought me close enough so I could feel his hard cock pressed against my back and smell his breath from above. I immediately felt his warm swat penetrating through my shirt. In a second, he grabbed his collar and ripped the shirt in two like tissue paper. I let out a soft gasp from the sudden movement. He did the same with my shirt. - Look at this shit. I’m so large you can see my nipples. And he was right. He was a broad man from the start but the added mass on his shoulders and triceps made him look even bigger. He flexed both arms in a double biceps, laughing loud at his superiority over me. I, again, felt inadequate. Less of a man standing next to this much mass, feeling the hair on his not so protruding belly stick to my back with his sweat. - Do you like being part of it? Do you like being part of my growth? - I do. It’s amazing. - Damn right it is.And it’s only the beginning. You know what they say, “there’s always someone bigger”. I’ll make it so there’s none. I’ll be the limit. I’ll be the biggest. Would you like that? - I don’t think there are many people bigger than you, really. - Haha, you think I’m big? You have no idea what I’ll become. You… you on the other hand… have you shrunk, boy? It wasn’t just the illusion of me being near his massive size. In my efforts to tend to his growth, I was eating less and less every day. More than often, he would finish his humongous portions of food and with his playful “are you gonna finnish that?” he would end up eating whatever was still on my plate. - Damn, you’re looking tiny. How do you feel being this close to a man? Does it make you hard? Do you like my man smell? Do you like the idea that I could do whatever the fuck I please with you? I couldn’t help it. I was leaking pre cum just looking at the massive monster behind me. Without saying a word, he lodged a meaty arm in between my legs and lifted me up, laying me across his shoulders. - Fuck, you are light. He positioned one hand on my chest, practically covering it, and another one just above my crotch and lifted. - Look at how easy I can lift you. And down. And up. And down. And up. And down. - He was practically laughing with each rep, that devious smirk never leaving his face. - It’s so fucking hot that I can do whatever I want with you. Look at this? - he laid me across his shoulders again and flexed his biceps. - I don’t even have to hold you. Fuck. Laying on top of his shoulders, I held to that big biceps, feeling its hardness and its power. His other hand reached to his cock - Fuck… I’m so big. I’m so strong. I’m massive. Puny boy is nothing next to me. - he was beating furiously - so fucking big… TELL ME HOW BIG I AM! - You’re huge, Alex, you’re massive. Your arms are fucking humongous - I was light headed from being held up so high but still crawling on his shoulders trying to get closer to his armpits just so I could smell him. - Fuck yeah. Fucking huge. This arm is gonna be bigger than your head. So.. uhhhh. Fucking…. So fucking huge… Uhhnnngg…. FUCKING HUGE! FUCK!!! He sprayed and sprayed all over the mirror, with him on his back. He jerked his shoulders back as if dropping a sack of potatoes and down to the futon I fell. I was leaking so much pre cum I immediately started jerking off. He lifted his foot and stepped on my neck. - No cumming for you. Not yet. I’ll tell you when to come, tiny. I’m not in the mood for your gay shit. __________________ - Yeah, Tony, he’s a handful. What.. huh… what do you mean, after what happened? - Oh, he didn’t mention, huh? Damn fucker… __________________ We had a few drinks to commemorate having the mirror room ready and done. Needless to say I was heavily drunk before he felt anything and he ended up having to carry me up to my bed. - Your feet. - What’s with my feet, runt? - Your feet don’t fit the bed. - laughing. - No runt, they don’t. - You need a bigger bed. You should open your bed from below so its bigger. - My bed doesn’t open, runt. You’re drunk. Go to sleep. - But your feet won’t sleep if they’re not in the bed. - Fuck me… shut up runt, go to bed already. … … … … - Your feet will never sleep, you know. - GOD DAMN IT, RUNT! FUCK! He stood up in a second and, with one hand to each side of my bed, looked at my eyes menacingly. - I… I’m just worried bout your feet. - FUCKER. He lifted my bed, me on top of it, and positioned it right at the foot of his own bed. Laying down on his bed, his feet were right at my chest level, and he purposefully pushed me, with his feet, so I could lay on my side and give him space. I hugged his feet, both of them, as if I would a Teddy bear, and immediately fell asleep. The bed was kept there. He later revealed that having me envelop his feet with my whole body flicked a button for him and he had to cum that night. A quick slap on my face because I wasn’t awake to take care of that hard on. __________________ - Just be careful. I mean, I know he can be pretty convincing when he wants to be, and I don’t want him taking advantage of you. Like this whole gym thing. It’s obvious you’re not the one gonna be using it neither he’s the one paying for it. - He’s just not good with bookkeeping. Don’t worry. I’ve got a plan. ___________________ - No, I don’t want you to take any measurements. I won’t weigh myself either. I’m gonna measure myself against you, every day. I also want you to video me. After I come back from the gym, we go to the mirror room and you’ll film, take pictures, whatever. I don’t want to get caught up in numbers. They make me anxious. I’d film him daily. He would pose for several photos, everything very detailed. It’s hard to have an idea, since he’s overall so big and, while if he was of normal height, his arms would possibly look around 20 inches. But being so tall, I’d say they are around 22. His weight is a total mystery. Certainly above 280 lbs (130 kg) but my rough guess here is probably too conservative. As for myself, I was 175 lbs three months ago and weighed myself this morning at 140. Having hated the extra weight I gained while dating Patrick, I was happy with the results and didn’t feel like my diet was forced at all. __________________ - Let’s just say he had a rough past, Leo. But then, who hasn’t? I just wanna make sure he doesn’t fuck up again. - What do you mean, Tony? Are you talking drugs? __________________ Immediately after that first time I sucked him off I started noticing his body was changing more noticeably. This one time, I went to the bathroom and, not realising he was there, opened the door to catch him with a needle in hand, a small vial and a few pills on the counter. - The fuck are you doing? - Gear. - What? What’s gear? I won’t have drugs in this house, Alex, we’ve got to draw a line… - Shut the fuck up, runt. This is gear. It’s steroids. I’m starting the cycle today. Nothing for you to worry about. __________________ I went back to the kitchen to fix a jar of tea for the guys. Mario and Rob, both from the gym, were there and… they were kissing each other. - Cough. - Heeeey, Leo! Sorry bout that! You know we’re a couple, right? Mario was… very typical. He sounded gay and owned it very well. He had a perfect tight defined body, which he made sure to flaunt with extra small shirts snuggled to his visible abs. He was maybe 6’, around Tony’s height. Rob, the boyfriend, had a more stoic look to him. With Irish features, his greyish blond hair and slim face was made even more handsome by the freckles here and there. While Mario could easily model underwear with that body, Rob, while equally muscled, had way more volume than his partner. - Of course he does, we’ve been coming here almost daily for three months - Rob rolled his eyes. - And still we haven’t all fucked, have we? - Mario lifted his left eyebrow. - Funny. Rob, you into the open relationship thing too? - Leo, sometimes you get tired of having pasta every fucking day. - Don’t mind him, Leo. I hit on Alex at the gym once and he said he had a roommate I’d like, remember, Rob? Well… I’d fuck ya. Just saying. - Funny. You wanna fuck Alex, not me, honey. - Girl, who wouldn’t? Look at all that meeeaaaat!!!! __________________ - Money is tight, Alex, and I’ve been thinking… We… we could make easy money, you know. - What do you mean? - You.. ahm.. You… Ever heard of onlyfans? - The fuck is that? - Porn. It’s porn, Alex. - You wanna do porn, runt? Go ahead… as long as it fuels my growth, I don’t care - No! I mean.. I don’t think I’d sell as much as.. You know… you. - What? You want me to do porn? I can’t. - You don’t have to do anything. I have all the videos of you flexing. I’ll just set up and account and upload it there. - No. I don’t want the attention, I told you. - I can edit your face off of the video, or even blurry it. I mean, it’s honest work. You’re investing in your body, it’s only fair you get something in return. - You want to pimp me, runt? - It’s not like that! It’s not for my personal gains, your sups, the gym, all your demands… they’re expensive! - Huh. So people would pay me to see my fucking huge body? - Yeah. - And no one would know it’s me, still, people will pay to jack off to my body. His dick hardened immediately. - Yeah. - Good. Ok. Do it. But suck me off first. This got me hard. __________________ The boys went back to work. Tony passed by the kitchen to get his fill of tea. - Leo, I don’t wanna make a big deal of it cause apparently you’re doing great on your own there. But you’re a good guy and I appreciate what you’re doing for Alex, I think you should know. He spent the last 10 years locked up. He really has nowhere to go, his family wants nothing to do with him and the best I could do was get a few jobs in construction, till we got his shed to live on, temporarily. - Wait… he.. What? What for? - You should talk to him. PART 4 - CROSSING THE Ts - We need to talk. - Alex had a huge plate that had just been emptied in front of him. As usual, I had barely eaten anything, whatever portion of the meal I separated for myself ending up being consumed by Alex as well. - What about, Runt? - Yesterday, during the barbecue, Tony said you… well, you’d been to prison. - Did he now? - he was clearly annoyed. - He did. And… It bothers me that I don’t know anything about you, at all. - What do you mean, you don’t know anything about me? We’ve been living together for nearly 6 months now. You know me. - Where are you from? Do you have any family? Why did you go to fucking prison for? - Why do you need to know all of that? We have a pretty good thing going on for us here. You’re fine, aren’t you? You like having me around, don’t you, boy? He got up from the table and pointed at the dishes so I could remove them. I promptly did. I was getting well trained and - the truth was - more dependent on him every day. While my financial situation was firstly not the best, Alex agreed a couple of months ago I could start publishing his posing videos online. All it took was a twitter account for marketing it and the numbers started piling up. The amount of men fully devoted to him increased quick enough that our monthly expenses were more than covered. Not only that, once I got brave enough to publish videos of him jerking off to his own reflection within the mirrored room, people were obsessed. I got daily requests for personalised content and people offering impossibly high amounts of money to spend an hour with him. I never replied, he never allowed me to. But he still wanted me to read all the messages he received complimenting him, telling him how big he looked, how big his cock was, how much they wanted him to fuck them. I’d do it during his afternoon work out. By the end of the 2 hour training session, Alex was hard and his dick needed release. He’d then go to the mirrored room for a posing session and a quick jerk off. Not only that but I had grown accustomed pretty quick to our routine. He wasn’t lying when he said he’d give me purpose and lately I felt just so… content; I’d pretty much follow on whatever he had planned for the day. At 5h00 in the morning I’d wake up. My bed was still at the foot of his and I’d sleep hugging his huge feet every night. He wouldn’t mind how hard I was feeling those impossibly huge feet covering my whole upper body. A quick pec to his big toe and up I was while he would still snore loudly for a couple more hours. Up to 7h00 I’d be meal prepping. I arranged so that weekly a truck would come with stupid amounts of sweet potato and chicken and eggs and veggies and oatmeal and more chicken and fish and even more chicken. I’d cooked chicken so many times in so many ways by now I don’t know why he doesn’t complain about it. For a total of 8 daily meals, I’d have his breakfast prepared at 8h00, a second breakfast at 10h00, brunch at 12h00, lunch at 2h00, a snack at 4h00, tea at 6h00, dinner at 8h00 and something before bed at 10h00 in the evening. I never got tired of watching him eat and it was clearly helping him out so I gladly did it. Every day. After breakfast he went for his first training session of the day, from 8h00 to 10h00. After gorging himself on his second breakfast he’d lock himself up at the mirror room. I was not allowed there for filming or watching him, and I wasn’t supposed to talk to him up to 12h00, when he’d come downstairs for lunch. We’d have lunch together - mostly me watching him eat and talking to him about amenities, trying to ignore how pumped he looked from his morning workout. After lunch he’d nap for an hour and that was my time to do the dishes and go up to the mirror room and keep it clean. More times than not I’d swipe cum off of the mirrors, hard while doing so and picturing him pleasuring himself while looking at his own body. At 2h00 I was back at the kitchen waiting for his face to pop in looking for lunch. I couldn’t wait for it too. He’d always be in his underwear, barely had his eyes open, and ducking to go through the door, one shoulder, then his head, then the other shoulder. The big round face wearing a smirk of approval cause I had everything ready for him. Still on his underwear he’d go to the gym again and I knew I’d see him only an hour later for another meal. Back to the gym he’d go and I was not to interrupt before his snack time - the only time I was allowed in the gym - bringing his protein shakes. Whenever I was about to go into his gym I already had butterflies up my stomach. The room smelled like him. The grunts I heard on my way through the yard. The anticipation of looking at his beefy sweaty body pulling amounts of weight you couldn’t find in regular gyms. And fuck, the pump. He built that gym with ceilings so high the building was just as tall as the two story house but fuck did he look immense standing there, impossibly tall, all pumped, muscles glistening, face red, all the hair on his chest sticking to his flesh as I’d like to be doing. I knew that if he was having a good workout he’d start flexing right there, teasing me, that smirk that never left his face looking at me. Sometimes he barely acknowledged me. I left the shakes and went back home. But whenever I was lucky he’d flex a huge arm in front of my face. - Big enough, runt? - No one’s bigger than you, Alex. - Fuck yeah, you’re right. When he came back from his workout he would update me on how much he was lifting and what he had trained for the day. I kept a detailed journal of his impressive progress and so I took notes, sometimes not believing the numbers as I wrote them down. The one thing he wouldn’t let me do was measure him up. That’s because he would inevitably get hard as he was describing to me how much he had lifted that day. So much so that one day in particular he didn’t even wait for me to finish my notes. He just got up, lifted me up on one of his shoulders and ran up the stairs to the mirror room. He dropped me down on the futon like a sack of potatoes and immediately started flexing his beefy body in front of the many mirrors. - Fuck Leo… I’m getting so fucking big, look at this. - he said as he lifted an arm flexing his biceps, the other arm on a fist by his waist. - It’s… incredible, Alex. - Come here, stand by my side. Now I want you to try and picture what I was seeing. This man was just so huge that standing up by his side, on my slippers, my head was almost as high as his big round nipples pointing down at me. His waist was at my shoulder level so what I saw in the mirror, first, was just how skinny I was looking. All of the extra weight I had gained during my 3 years with Patrick was just gone. Instead, I was so thin I could see my ribs if I tried hard enough. By my side and nearly the same size around as my whole body was one of his thighs, impossibly thick, larger around than my waist and nearly as large as my shoulders. One of his calves was thicker than my thighs, for sure. Next to my pale body, his leg on his natural tan looked darker, even more so as it was thickly covered by dark, black hair. By my head, his waist had lost some of the fat that was there when he met but didn´t get any smaller. Instead, his torso was a a solid block of now visible abs, a distended gut that extended under his even more gigantic pecs. He rested a paw over my shoulder while pushing me closer, he liked me standing right in front of him, so he´d flex above me. His muscles flaring on my sides behind me. He looked so big it was like I wasn´t even there. I could still see his thighs by my sides, the big nipples far apart enough that even if I could reach him and stand in front of his pecs I would still see then both peeking behind me. And above those slabs of hairy meat he had for pecs his shoulders bulging even wider. Both of his arms in full view, bigger than my head by so much I could barely believe it. The mounts and valleys his biceps, shoulders and traps made above me so beautiful to look at. Defined just enough so you could tell the muscles apart. - You see that, runt? Fuck… you see how big I am? - You’re incredible, Alex. There’s no one bigger than you. - Fuck yeah, there isn’t. Look at it, runt. Fucking look at it. Are you hard? What’s that? What’s that little thing? You hard just looking at me? - I… I can’t help it. - And why is that? Why are you hard, runt? - Cause I can see you look… even bigger than before. - Not even close to big enough, runt. Tell me more. - Cause you’re so powerful I’m scared to be near you. - Why? You think I’m gonna hurt you, runt? - I know you could. I know I couldn’t help it if you wanted to. - Damn right. I could do whatever I pleased with you. Does that make you hot, runt? - Yes. - Do you like knowing that if I wanted to fuck you, I’d take you right now? - Yes. - Do you like knowing that you couldn’t get away. That… fuck damn… I could ram my big cock up your ass and tear you in half? - Yes. - You know I’m so much more of man than you’ll ever be, right? - Yes. - That’s why you do everything for me. To see me growing bigger. To fuel my growth. - Yes. - I like how skinny you look. You’re not a small man, by any means. You’re… regular. Forgettable. But I’m just so… fuck… so much more. - Yes. - It’s like every pound you lose I gain twice as much. All in muscle. - Yes. - Just so I can be even more powerful next to you. Even bigger. Even manlier. - Yes. - You don’t even look like a man. You’re a little girl for me, aren’t you? My little wife cooking my food and clearing my house. - Yes. - You like being my wife, runt. - Yes. - Why is that? Aren’t you a big strong man yourself? - Not next to you, Alex. - Call me Sir, runt. - Not next to you, Sir. - Yeah. How do feel next to me, runt? - I feel… small… and… delicate. - And why do you act like you’re my wife, boy? - Cause I want to make you happy, Sir. I want you to approve of me. I want to feel important. - You like to think you played a part to all of this size? All of this muscle? All of this power? - Yes. - I like that, boy. - I want you to get even bigger, Sir. I know you can. And I’ll help as much as I can. - Fuck yeah. I’ll get bigger, boy. I’m just starting. I want you to cum just looking at me. I want to be so big you feel the ground shake as I walk. So big we need a bigger bed. So big I don´t fit anywhere. So big I can´t find clothes my size. Fuck, who needs clothes? I’m always hot anyway. You like that I’m hairy, boy? - Yes, Sir. - Why don’t you let your body hair grow, boy? Why do you shave it? - I… I don’t, Sir. I… can’t grow any body hair other than my legs. - Why, boy? You not a man? - Yes, Sir. - Men are hairy, boy. Men are big, strong like me. You’re no man. - I… I’m sorry, Sir. - Tell you what, since you like being my wife so much, I want you shaved. No pubes, nothing on your legs. Deal, runt? - Yes, Sir. - You’ll just do whatever I tell you to do, won’t you, runt? - Yes, Sir. - Fuck, you’re pathetic. Here, turn around. Look at me. - Yes, Sir. - Get on your knees. I want you even smaller. - Yes, Sir. - I get it, runt. It’s hard to be a man when you have me to compare to you. Take the rest of your clothes off. I want you naked. - Yes, Sir. He removed his underwear and, on my knees, his big fat dick was pointing straight a palm above my head. - I want you to look at me and think of how much more of a man I am than you’ll ever be. - Yes, Sir. A drop of precum fell on my face. I didn’t dare to move as I felt it sliding down my cheek. He grabbed his log in one big hand and started rubbing it. Looking at himself in the mirror he would flex his biceps, then turn sideways and grab his torso. He would cup his chest, all while moaning and grunting like an animal. Down at his feet I couldn’t see his face past his fat dick. Whatever field of vision I had left was filled by his strong blocky gut and his meaty pecs. Those two huge nipples just as large as his dick was thick, pointing to my face while I wished I was high enough to suck them. - Hug my thigh, runt. I wanna feel how small you are next to me. I did and was amazed at the feeling. Not only his thigh was hard as fucking rock but so large around that I felt like I was holding a whole person between my arms. His leg felt rough, the hair rough against my cheek. I couldn’t help but lick his thigh and feel his salty sweat on my tongue. He continued flexing, seemingly getting bigger at every pose. I held onto his thigh for dear life and actually sat on his foot. He seemed to like it as he started taking a few steps, my body attached to his leg, sitting on his huge foot. - Fuck, I’m so big. Look at you, runt. You can’t stop me. I don’t even register you there, boy. Looking straight at the mirror he raised both arms in a double biceps and started flexing his thighs. I could feel the muscle under me getting even harder as I found it harder to keep my arms around his leg, so pumped it was. He kicked a little more violently and I lost my grip, lying on the floor. Standing over me, still in a double biceps, he came. And his grunt was so deep and low I could feel it reverberating inside my whole body. The splashes of cum falling on top of my whole naked body, showered by this much man, getting his essence, feeling baptized. He just left me there and left the room. He went straight to the bathroom and I heard him taking a shower. I was just so hard and horny I couldn’t contain myself. As he was leaving I could swear I felt his every step shaking the ground, taking that immensity away with him. I barely had to touch my dick. I just came, mixing my cum with his. The day went by as any other. We sat for our movie night, I layed by his side and he covered me with one of his arms. That night in particular I remember I fell asleep right there, just to wake up at my bed the next day, hugging his feet, as I’m sure he brought me over on his arms the night before. Every day I spent with him I felt like less of a person and more of an accessory for his growth. He was right, I didn’t feel much like a man anymore. How could I? Not only was he bigger, taller, way stronger than me but he was also now making enough money to support us both. And yet, I felt content. He was right about that too. I was happy he was there, I was happy I could witness his progress and I was happy we had our routine so figured out. Still. I had to know. I wanted to know more about him. I needed to. - You know everything about me, Alex. Please, let me know more about you too. - We don’t need that. We got a pretty sweet thing going on here for us. Plus… I don’t like talking about my past. - So you don’t huh. Ok. - I got up and went straight to the cupboard where we kept our liquor. Two glasses. Rum was the first thing I could grab quick enough to pour a shot to each of us. - c’mon, you can do it. He looked at it a little perplexed, then back at me, then back at glasses and sat. The chair squeaked beneath his weight. He sighed deeply and took a shot. - Alright. I’ll tell ya. PART 5 - ALEX Since I can remember I was bigger and taller than my mates. Even as a kid. People would assume I repeated a few grades. When I was around 14 I looked like a full grown man, hairy chest and all, and people were generally scared of me. I remember the other boys would jump on my back every chance they got. They called me “big lug”. And I like it. But I’m getting ahead of myself. You see, I never met my mother. I saw pictures of her though. My mother was German, you see. Big woman, she was. I think that’s what my dad liked about her. She was tough, that’s what he said, and never took no for an answer. As a journalist she got to travel around the world and she met my dad in Armenia. She was writing a piece about isolated communities and met him in a village in Shirak. From there, they traveled around together, he followed her around wherever she needed to be for a while. That was till they decided to get married. When they did, that’s when they settled here in this country. Got themselves a little farm where she could write in peace. He was happy as long as he could work the soil. They were completely opposites. But happy anyway - or at least that’s what I think they were. Dad says they never planned to have me. A child was not fit for their lifestyle and they wouldn’t know what to do with one. I agree, at least to his part. I don’t know what happened exactly but my mother didn’t survive childbirth. And I was raised by my father. He was a quiet man. Kept to himself most of the time. Most of my time we were together, working the farm with him whenever I wasn’t at school. That doesn’t mean we talked, though. We barely ever talked. Looking back I think he resented me for my mother or something. So I just… avoided him whenever I could. I… I don’t like to talk about it. He was a messed up man. If I can call him that. The asshole drank, that he did. A lot. And he beat me. A lot. There wasn’t always a reason, he just did it. And at school I also kept to myself a lot. The other kids don’t start a conversation with someone bigger than them by asking “what’s wrong with your eye?”. So yeah, I kept to myself a lot… working the field with my father, sometimes with a black eye. Like I told you, when I was 14 the kids at school just called me “big lug”, jumped on top of me all the time, playing as if I was a donkey or something. I liked it cause that's the most human interaction I had. I never got too used to being touched. And since being big got people to touch me, I thought I should be bigger. It’s when I started working out. I’d get stronger so my dad wouldn’t hit me anymore. Even though I looked so big, I was still a late bloomer. Meaning I didn’t get horny up until I was maybe 15. I remember the first time I got a chubby was at the gym, when I finally benched 90lbs on each side. Huh. That’s when I started growing like crazy too. See all these stretchmarks on my back? I must’ve grown a foot from 15 to 16, man. And not only that, I was getting pretty buff too. Dad didn’t look me in the eye anymore. And he tried hitting me once. I just held him in place. He couldn’t move, couldn’t hit me, couldn’t breathe. “Jhandam k’ez” - he said. Never tried hitting me again. After that I spent what I think was the worst year we had together. We were just there. We never talked. Barely looked at each other. When I told him I was moving out he barely acknowledged it. He was plowing a small square of land and he didn’t even look at me. I moved to the city at 17 with enough money to pay for the bus ride. Slept on the street, lost a lot of weight. Was just a big beanpole of a man walking around for a couple of months. We get by, you know. Do what we have to do. The one thing I’m happy about this time is that I never tried any drugs. I don’t know, drugs are not my thing. When I was living in the streets we had this couple that would come up to us every Friday with nice warm soup. They were good people, it seemed. They offered me a place to stay and I lived with them for a year or so. By then I was almost as tall as I am now and I think they saw me as a freak. They were always talking about me to their friends and… kinda showing me to them as if I was a freak. But sure enough, with proper meals I was slowly getting back to my bigger self. I kept active, doing my exercises, eating as a horse, they wouldn’t deny me anything. When I was 18 the lady started looking at me differently. She had the hots for me, I’m sure. She was my first. I’d never had sex with anyone before her and she taught me the ropes. I fucked her a few times and man, she was a screamer. Her husband liked to watch me fuck her and I think that’s why I could do it. I liked the attention. It was like he knew he wasn’t as much man as I was and that got me fucking hot while I made her cum. I didn’t mind her at all. It could be her as much as it could be him lying there in front of me. Her body did nothing for me. I just knew his tiny excuse for a man of a husband couldn’t make her cum as I could, and that was fucking hot. I called him names while I did it. It just made me hornier. I made him stand on his knees licking my ass while I fucked her. Make him fix me a beer after I fucked her. He liked it. Just as much as I did, though for different reasons. I suspect he was more into it than the wife was. Once I got too excited and she was down on her fours when I was fucking her from behind. The little cuckold was beating one off from a chair in the same room. I don’t know what got into me but I just grabbed him and threw him belly down to the bed. I spit on my hand and rubbed it on his ass and just put it in. I fucked him hard and didn’t mind his screaming. Fuck it made me even hornier. He tried to get out but couldn’t and I felt so fucking powerful… so fucking hot. I came inside him while his wife screamed in terror. They threw me out because of that. Heh. It was worth it though. Fuck, that little man struggling under me and the terror I saw in the wife’s eyes. That made me so fucking hot. It also made me realise, maybe for the first time, that being different wasn’t bad. That I liked being so much taller than everyone else. I started appreciating the way people would just move out of my way when I was walking down the street, and would comment all the time about my height, or about my arms. I started getting the notions you know? When they threw me out I went to the gym - it was the only place I felt comfortable at after all - and the owner let me live in an empty room above it. It was then I also found out how easy it was to make money when you’re… well… when you look like me. I lived above the gym, spent most of my day there and boy… word quickly got around that you could suck the big guy in the showers if you had a couple hundreds to give him. Hell, even the owner didn’t mind cause a lot of new guys signed up just to suck me off. Hah. Life was easy. I trained most of my days, had fags sucking my dick whenever I wanted and they even paid me for it. I even had regulars. And with those I experimented, you know? I learned I liked to cum when I was looking at myself. I learned I cummed faster the smaller they were. I learned to call them names. I got cocky. This one guy would let me do whatever I wanted to him so I just held him upside down and choked him on my big cock. Fuck that’s a favourite of mine until now. Just having a man, helpless, choking on my cock. See, I’m getting hard just thinking about it. And the bigger I got, the more I trained, the stronger I got, the hardest I’d cum. It was so much more of a rush being so much bigger than everybody else. I got hard only by training. By feeling the pump. A good pump would always get me fucking hard on its own. And there was always someone following me to the lockers so I got a good release. And, to be honest, I don’t want much more from life. I just want to be big. The biggest. And that’s what I worked on for a good 10 years. Living above the gym, getting fucking bigger, getting sucked by as many men and women as I wanted. But then I got greedy. One of my regulars, this petit little girl, was so much into my body. Called me daddy, liked to be slapped and shit. But yeah, she was tiny. Too small maybe. I don’t really remember much about that day. I remember I was fucking her and choking her while I was looking at myself in the mirror. I liked how big I looked, I was looking like a fucking god. At 28 I was about to enter my first bodybuilding competition so I was fucking shredded. It was after hours at the gym and I got her on the bench stool. I fucked her hard. I fucked her too hard. I didn’t notice when she passed out and kept choking her. I was just looking at myself. I was looking at my muscles and picturing myself demolishing my competition. Everyone else at that stage would be fucking humiliated by posing by my side. No one would be as big as I was. I choked her harder as I flexed my pecs, as I would on a most muscular pose and then I came. I came so hard and it was so good I saw stars. I came so much I was dizzy, my vision blurred and I knelt and sat by the side of the bench. She wasn’t breathing. I panicked, I tried CPR and shit but I was so fucking scared I didn’t know what to do. So I called 911 and was arrested then. 10 years it cost me. I got locked up and everything changed. I promised I’d never try a bodybuilding show again. You get a lot of time to think when you’re locked up for 10 years. Yeah, I made a few buddies in the joint, I kept training while in there - so nobody ever messed up with me. But I… I don’t know. Maybe I am a bad person. Maybe I’m just a narcissistic fuck who ended a girl’s life cause I’m a fucking psycopath. I never had sex with anyone while in prison. I didn’t have to. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t think guys are hot. Or girls. I like me. I like being big, strong. Bigger than everybody else. That’s what I like. So I told you, I’m not gay. I’m not straight either. I don’t even fucking know what I am. I’m broken, I guess. For a long time I felt remorse for the girl. I still do. Or I think I do. Still, I felt nothing for her. I feel remorse for the act and I know what it means but I feel absolutely nothing for her. She wasn’t anything for me. I didn’t care for her. I don’t think I can care for other people. I think I’m sick. All I care about is me, my size, the way people look at me, the way you would do whatever I asked you to do without even asking for my reasons, runt. Being so much more of a man than anyone else is all I care about. Tony I met while I was in prison. He’s part of a professionalisation program and he teaches locked up guys how to be woodworkers, masons, these kinds of things. We got pretty close while I was in there so he took me in when I left the joint. So there you go. You wanted to know, now you do. I’ll pack my things up in the morning, runt. You don’t need to worry bout kicking me out. —--------------- After a final shot, he got up and went upstairs. I didn’t know what to say or what to do. Never in my wildest dreams I had to deal with something so heavy. While he told me his story I felt sorry for him, I felt scared about him, I felt his helplessness under all the mass. I understood why he would hug me now on our movie nights and why it took so long for him to warm up to me. And as I was walking up the stairs after him, I could feel the hair behind my neck rising as flashes of the times he forced me to suck him went through my mind. This man was strong beyond what I knew was possible. Was perhaps unstable and unable to control himself. And every step up the stairs was made in just as much impulse as my words to him when I got to the bedroom. - Alex, you’re not broken. You’re not. And I’ll do whatever it takes to show it to you. I will. You’re a good man. Whatever happened in the past will stay in the past. Just… please… don’t leave. I layed down at my bed, making space by his humongous feet and held them. Hugged them as I did so many nights before that. And wiping my tears on his feet, half drunk, fell asleep. PART 6 - MOVING ON How can I put it? It isn’t like I wasn’t afraid of him. Of course I was. But that wasn’t new. Fear and awe are very alike and I can’t know which one I felt in reality. Being in the same room as him, I’m sure, would have the same effect on anyone. He was way too big to ignore. The way you had to crank your neck up to look at his face, and how much muscle your eyes travel through to get there. Simply how much space he takes up in a room or how he has to bend and turn to cross a door. It’s not the same as just having a regular person around. So, when I woke up before he did the next day, like I did the day before that and went down the stairs to start preparing his breakfast, the last thing I was paying attention to was the dozen eggs boiling in the pot or the sizzling of the bacon or the nice smell of the bread about to come out of the oven. How do you even process that? I knew he had been in prison, yeah. But for killing a person? Sure, not on purpose. But I’d been there for oh so many times when he got in a narcissistic trance, barely registering his surroundings, fixated on his body and himself alone. How could I not think it would happen again? The anxious cogs in my head were interrupted by the heavy sound of his steps coming down from the bed. I turned around to see him ducking through the doorway, his vast, immense shoulders crossing the archway before I could see his face. He was wearing his boxers, always too tight on him. His naturally tan, hairy body always a surprise as one can never get used to how much space it takes. - Hey… - Hey… - So, how do you feel? - Shut up and eat your breakfast. - I grabbed his finger and pulled him towards the chair. He moved his mass over and sat, staring at me with those small, dark eyes. - Listen, I’m happy I know more stuff about you now. I don’t think it was easy on you. I chose to believe it wasn't. And I’m not running away or anything. My whole day is centered around you. What am I supposed to do? - Huh… so, you’re stuck? - No. That’s not what I mean. I don’t want it to stop. - What don’t you want to stop? - Our… our thing. I mean, I… manage everything around you, you get to grow bigger. - I do like growing bigger - he grinned. - Yeah… So… I like it too. And you were right all along. I do feel like I have a purpose, even if it looks like I’m just doing stuff for you. I feel good about our thing. I’m… content. - You’re content. - Yes! I feel like I’m part of something bigger. No pun intended. He smiled. It was weird when he smiled. He didn’t smile much so when he did it was like he didn’t know how. - So you’re not scared of me. - Of course not! He started walking forward towards me. I instinctively took a few steps back but he kept walking. My back touched the wall and still, he kept walking. He stopped right in front of me. Looking right at the top of his gut, I smelled his musky scent. His face looking down at me with a smirk. - Still not scared? - N… no. He moved his paws around my neck, circling around them and lifting me up, sliding me against the wall. My hands moved to his thick hairy forearms, grabbing what I can, trying to move them. I couldn’t. Steel it was around my neck. My feet left the ground and I started kicking around, barely with space to move it, hitting him a few times but it seemed like he wasn’t registering it. - You should be scared. I like it when you are. And look at you. I can see it in your eyes. You're shitting bricks, boy. And you should be. You’re tiny, I’m so much bigger, so much stronger than you. I can do whatever I want with you. Why wouldn’t you be scared? - S…stop! - Admit it then. Admit that you’re scared of me. - He squeezed a tiny bit, enough to make me cough. - I… I am, alright! I am always scared of you! I never know what to expect! - HAHAHAHAHAHA - He looked deep into my eyes and the smirk turned into a full laughter. He released his vice grip around my neck all of a sudden and I fell down, fighting to keep my balance, while he moved away laughing - Fuck, that makes me horny, how easy it is. And I see you’re sporting a chubby there too, boy. He was right. I was completely entranced by this mountain of a man. The feeling of being always so completely surrendered to his wishes, to whatever he wanted to use me for on that day, of making him feel and grow more powerful each day. Fuck, how could that NOT make me horny? If anything, I wanted more of that! - Did you mean it, Leo? When you said you’d whatever it took? - Yes. - Do you trust me? - I do. - Okay, you’re gonna have to. Because things are gonna change around here. I want you to have an even more active role in my growth. I want you making charts, taking measurements, taking notes. We’re gonna track how much I’m growing. Measuring myself against you every day makes me horny but it’s not effective and it’s not enough anymore. - That’s fine, I can do it, agreed. - It’s not a discussion, Leo. We are going to update the gym. I need more tools for my growth. How’re my finances? - You have nothing to worry about. You’re in the top 0.02% creators on onlyfans, you know? - Don’t care. Does it pay for new gym equipment? - Yes. - Good. I’ll send you the bill. Need new gear too. I’m gonna blow up, boy. - I’ll take care of the funds. - Good. He finished his breakfast and was about to get up. - Wait… I… I need to ask you something. - Go ahead. - Do you trust me as well? - I trust you like to please me, as you should. - Fair. How do you truly feel about telling me everything you did? - Am I supposed to feel something? - I mean, you did end that night telling me you were gonna move away cause you were a freak. How’s that? - You don’t want me to. - Of course I don’t. Do you feel closer to me, though? Less of a freak? - Oh fuck, what? Do you want me to get all sentimental on you? You’re cool, Leo. I like having you around. But no, I don’t feel any less of a freak. - There’s nothing wrong with being a freak. - I know. And I like it. I suppose wanting to be the bigger man there is makes me a freak anyway. But you know… you’re gay. How did you feel when you realised you weren’t the only gay guy in the world? - I see what you mean. It was comforting. - Exactly. That freak part of me bothers me. And sometimes I wish I had a community of muscle obsessed fuckers around me. - You can find that in any gym, you know. - Oh, you know that’s far from true. Nobody is more into being the biggest, strongest fucker there is than I am. I don’t know anyone who jerks off to pictures of themselves. And can I tell you something? When I’m jacking off in front of the mirror and you’re there, all tiny and shit, all I can think about is that I could take you right there, holding your neck, seeing you pass out cause I’m so fucking strong… and that’s what making me cum these days. And I’m not sure I like that. That’s too freaky. Even for me. - It makes sense. I try not to question it but I never thought an alpha ape who threw me around as much as you do would make me so horny. - You like it, don’t you boy? - I do, Sir. Very much. - I know. - Tell you what. What if we found these people? - What do you mean? - Let’s find your community. I’m sure there are people like you somewhere. We just have to find them. - You’re crazy. And what’re you gonna do with these people? - Meet them. Talk to them. Let them know you exist. - And how do you know you’re even gonna find these people? - I don’t. But I’m sure as hell gonna try. You deserve that. - I like to hear that. Say it again. - You deserve it. I’ll do it for you. - You really would do anything for me, wouldn’t you? - There was that smirk again. - It couldn’t hurt me meeting some new people too. I mean, we barely leave the house for anything and the only people we have from time to time are Tony and the boys. - And your choice for new people are big men obsessed with growing bigger? - You forgot narcissistic. - I never forget how narcissistic I am. You would be too if you were in my skin, boy. - he stopped for a moment, took a deep breath and continues - Okay. Go ahead, do your best to find another me. - That I could never find. I don't think there's anyone as tall and as large as you out there. But I’ll do the best I can. I looked at Alex and he was still not onboard. The two of us had spent way too much time locked in this house by ourselves and I could almost feel his anxiety over meeting new people. He was an introvert most of the time and it felt odd seeing him outside of his comfort zone for a second, perhaps insecure? He fascinated me. How can someone go from a self absorbed muscle god to an insecure wall of muscle like that? What exactly made him feel that way? - Alex, you like bossing me around, don’t you? It makes you horny. - It does, Leo. And you like it too. - I do. And when you boss me around, and have me worship you and have me suck your cock. You like that too, don’t you? - Fuck yeah. - Are you holding back? - What? - Are you holding back? - Holding back on what? - Do you wish you were doing anything else with me? - Like… fucking you? I told you, boy, I’m not gay. - Yeah, yeah… it’s pretty clear you don’t want to fuck me. Do you wish you were… rougher? - I’d end you if I were any rougher. - Just answer the question. Do you hold back on what you like to do? - You don’t know what you’re asking. - he was clearly uncomfortable. - Do you wish you were rougher but you’re not, cause you’re afraid of what I’m gonna think, or afraid if it’s appropriate, or if you’re gonna hurt me? - I WOULD hurt you. - So you do hold back. - I have to. - What if you didn’t? What would happen then? - No, I can’t. - Why not? You think I can’t take it? - You probably can’t. But it’s not just that. - What is it then? - I… I don’t know… It’s… it’s sick. - Why is it sick? - Cause I can’t get horny on what? On breaking you? On choking you? - And yet you do. You told me you cum thinking of you holding my neck. Why don’t you then? - But it’s not right. - What’s missing? Consent? You have consent. - You don’t know what you’re consenting to. - What are you afraid of? You know what I’m thinking? I’m thinking you’re not man enough to be any rougher with me. - WHAT? - You heard me. You act all alpha, all dom but it’s all bullshit. Truth is you’re scared of being a real fucking man and you settle for the occasional suck me boy, worship me boy crap. - Shut the fuck up, boy, remember your fucking place - he said in a low almost whispered voice, clinching his right fist, while holding the back of the chair with his left hand as if balancing himself. - You shut up, you big dumb fuck! - I screamed, and instantly regretted it. In a moment, he picked the chair up and threw it back to the ground, shattering it in the process. His face look disfigured, he looked at me growling and just swooped his big thick arm around me in one movement, lifting me up off of the ground and locking me by his side as if I were a folder. - WHO YOU CALLING DUMB, YOU FUCKING SICK BOY! - he carried me over to the dining room and jerked his body around, expelling me in the process. I flew over to the ground, scared to death. His eyes were jet red, his face transfigured in rage. As he walked towards me to catch me again I squirmed away the best I could, watching chairs and the dinner table in front of him flying out of his way so easily as if they were made of paper. He reached straight to my neck, getting me to stand and not stopping there, lifting me up with one arm only, his powerful hands squeezing the pipe enough my face was instantly red. - IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT? Do you want me to cut loose? Do you want me to hurt you? I’ll hurt you, you fucker! And with that he threw me away again, so far I crashed down with a thump, almost hitting my head in the process. I looked back at him in terror - what have I done? - and there it was. The dick outlined by the white boxers growing to attention. He was enjoying this. He grabbed me by the ankle this time and walked towards the living room, dragging me through the floor. When he stopped by the couch he jerked me up again and held me in a full nelson from behind, my arms up, lifting me up from the ground again. The pain was almost unbearable. - You like this, you sick fucking boy? I’m gonna show you what over 340 pounds of man can do to you. - AHHH - I screamed in pain - Alex, please stop, you’re hurting me, Alex! - YEAH BOY, scream boy! Fucking beg! You’re dead, boy! His rage was slowly being replaced by how horny he was getting. His dick was grinding against my ass, harder at every second, his hips moving involuntarily, as if he were fucking me over his underwear. Thrusting over and over again, he let go of my arms and I fell on all fours. Kicking the couch behind him, he again grabbed by my waist and placed me standing in front of him. Alex grabbed my shirt and ripped it off in one swift motion, the shirt burning my skin as it ripped. He did the same with the rest of my clothes and I saw myself naked in front of this hairy beast, three, probably four times my size, completely at his mercy. He was sweating in rage, his nose flared like a bull’s. He slapped my face so hard I saw black for a second, my ears ringing as I was pushed to the side, back to the floor. He ripped his underwear, hard as a rock and leaking pre cum. The oversized monster roared this time in his deep bassy voice, hitting his pecs with his fists like an enraged animal, more beast than man. Alex grabbed me, this time in a bearhug, my body engulfed in his hard muscles so deeply I couldn’t move my arms. And he squeezed. Harder. And harder. The air left my lungs and I was desperate trying to breathe but unable to inhale so tight he held me against his pecs. I could feel his hot breath on my face, his musk but overall his presence. He was there, as alpha as he could be, as big as he could be, as if growing right in front of me. His need to be brutal and own me completely feeding his ego, making him grow even more in confidence. - You wanted this, boy. You wanted to submit. You wanted to suffer. You wanted this much man to own you. I’ll break you now. I’ll fucking end you. Fuck. I’m so fucking horny. I own you. I am the biggest, strongest motherfucker you’ll ever know. And I’ll do whatever the fuck I want with you. You’re nothing to me. I’ll use you in any way I want to. I’m not even using all of my strenght and you can’t get away. You can’t fucking move at all, you little sick boy. And you know I own you. You want it. Say you want it. You’d let me break you so I can cum. Say it. And I looked at him and finally saw him for who he was. And it was the most overwhelming thing to have all this power, all this presence surrounding me. I knew there was nothing else that would make me happier. He was right. I was ready to be his, to be whatever he wanted me to be. I was his. I couldn’t say it though, I couldn’t breathe. He needed to know. I looked at him with adoring eyes, completely surrendered. He read my lips. - Do it. I heard the crack and wanted to scream but still couldn’t. My vision was instantly blurred by the sharp pain I felt on my ribs. He growled again, the horniest I’d ever seen him, kneeling while still holding me in his iron embrace. He was close. Turning my body around he lay on the floor, my body on top of his, and wrapped his arm around my neck, biceps bigger than my head choking me. - I own you, boy. I’ll cum when you’re out. And as his whole body squirmed under me in the biggest orgasm I’d ever seen, his cum wetting my back, all I could ask for was sweet release from this monster’s embrace. I was ready. I’d served my purpose. And he choked me until I black out. ______________________ When I woke up in the bed, sheets crusted by his dry cum, I knew a few hours had passed. I still felt the sharp pain in my ribs and would for a few more weeks. But it was no time to think about the pain. No. I had a mission. I went online into every corner of the internet I could find. Forums, reddit, all of it. My post read: Looking for men who are obsessed with their own bodies and believe size is power.
  21. 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
  22. After reading many great stories on this forum, I decided it's high time to give back something to this community. I drafted my first story based on topics I really like and which turn me on - domination, huge muscles (obviously), power. I spiced it with a bit of snuff, although this will never be the main theme of this story. I tried to keep the story realistic - my hero will never become a giant or be strong enough to lift a tank. But he will be strong enough to beat the shit of any human. And have ample fun hearing him beg for his pathetic life. I am looking forward to your feedback and comments. Feel free to either comment below or by sending me a message. Today you get the first two chapters. If the story gets enough attention and positive replies, I plan to continue it of course. Happy reading and have fun! * * * PROLOGUE The helicopter was already flying quite low, just above the treetops. Below us was a vast forest, which we could barely see in the dark. The pilot was clearly afraid. And he had full reason to be. We were flying in the dark with minimal lights and not much moonlight, which already created a danger. But this danger was the lowest on his priority ranking. Worse for him was that we were flying over enemy territory and as we were flying so low, we were quite easy targets for enemy fire. But what he feared most, was me. And rightfully so. My legend preceded me. The pilot heard a lot about me before boarding this helicopter. In fact, when he learned whom he would carry on board tonight, he started to tremble. Although I did not care to say anything to him, my size, my Alphaness and my manly scent made his body automatically shrink and surrender. Only his completely average dick was totally hard during the entire flight. He was lucky I ignored his mediocre existence, as I was focused on a bigger fish to fry. * * * CHAPTER 1 My name is Serhyi. I am 29 years old and I am the latest experiment of Ukrainian scientists who collaborated with the best American colleagues to create a super-soldier; a ruthless and cruel killing machine. Even before being recruited to this experiment, I was a huge guy. I competed in international strongman championships representing my country, usually placing in the top 5. I won a few bodybuilding championships in the heavyweight category. I loved martial arts and wrestling, although I never competed on a national level in those. I loved fighting, cause it not only fulfilled my desire to be the best, which the other sports did too, but it also fulfilled my desire to crush my opponents, to make them realise and painfully feel their inferiority compared to Me. I loved to see fear in their eyes even before I started dominating them. I loved to inflict pain, to hear them scream, especially those who before the match believed they are macho. To me they were wimps and fucktoys. Unfortunately, this was not what they wanted at competitions, hence I never competed. When my country was invaded by the neighbouring Russia five years ago, I enlisted for the army. I wanted to fight against the invaders. I was immediately spotted by the recruiting commission, as I stood out from the crowd of mediocre men. I was 201 cm tall, which is 6 foot 6 inches in your American standards. And I was muscular, very muscular. A heavyweight bodybuilder with 61 cm arms (24”) which were bigger than the thighs of the weakling next to my right. My huge muscular chest was 145 cm (57”) at that time and contained more muscle than the whole body of the skinny wimp to my left, who timidly looked up at me from time to time praying that the enemy soldiers do not look like me. Add to the description of my magnificent body quite low body fat level (I wasn’t in competition shape, but it was around 8%, which made all my muscles nicely visible under my skin). I looked like a monster among petty humans. Which was exactly true. The head doctor who examined all of us who were standing in briefs was clearly aroused. He quickly checked all the average males and told me I would undergo a special inspection at the end. He was a middle-aged guy who was quite fit for his age and had more muscle than most of the candidates standing in front of him. Next to me though, he looked skinny and weak. He knew it and I knew it. I thought about dominating him and making him my puppet, but then I thought I should first wait and see what he has to offer me before subjugating him. It proved to be the right decision. After 10 minutes of inspections, the wimps were all proved worthy of being sent to the front and left the room. I was left alone with the doctor, who moved from his desk closer to me. I noticed he had a hard on, which was no surprise to me, as most males react with an erection in My presence. He asked me about my past, my sport experience, my strength while at the same time inspecting me. He started with the obvious - heart rate, pulse, then moved to inspect the quality of My muscles. His eyes were becoming wider and wider with awe. His dick harder and harder. Soon there was a wet stain between his legs. I smirked - I just subjugated another weakling without even bothering to make him feel My real power. The doc looked at Serhyi. He was in awe. What was before his eyes was a perfect male. Very tall, extremely muscular, very virile. The skin did little to hide the huge muscles underneath it. His pecs were like giant iron cushions. They emanated power and manhood. Just by looking at them anyone else already knew who the Alpha in the room is. On both sides of the giant pecs were two enormous shoulders. Each one the size of a watermelon. They made him look extremely wide and terrifying. Just beneath them were his rock-hard arms. Each one bigger than docs thighs, and doc was no stranger in the gym. They probably could curl more than what doc could leg press. Underneath the iron pecs were the beautifully carved abs. Even his obliques were elegantly visible showing his quite narrow waist. Then came the gigantic pillars of his legs. They seemed extremely long. As for their size - the doc wasn't sure he could circumvent the quads using both of his arms. He didn't even want to try doing that, as he was afraid it could anger Serhyi. And that was the last thing doc wanted to do. Below the huge quads were the brilliant, massive calves. Each one the size of docs thigh. And then came his long feet. Serhyi had even big muscles there. His scent was very manly. His pheromones subconsciously bombarded doc’s brain saying: “you are weaker, you are powerless in front of this male. Just accept it, as it's useless to deny it.” And doc did accept it. Fully. The doc was on his knees checking the density of My calves, each the size and shape of a rugby ball, when I asked him whether he wanted to see and check My cock. He slightly blushed and told me that this was on his checklist too, but he was too afraid to ask me. I didn’t even bother to reply to him and just took my pants off. My semi-hard already 18 cm (7”) long cock jumped out and flew above the head of the doctor. He licked his lips and looked lustfully at it. He tried to stay professional and started to measure its size with a tape. He then told me he needs to see it fully erect to measure it. He asked me whether I could make it hard. I replied that his hands and mouth are a perfect tool for that and that he is to do it himself. Without even realising it, he instantly obeyed my command. The first one of the many I gave him in the next months. He worshipped My cock just like he worshipped My muscular body - with care, respect and professionalism. He proved to be a worthy sub. My cock was full mast in less than a minute. It was easy, cause I hadn’t cum since morning and my balls were aching to be milked. My amazing steel rod was the only thing the doctor had on his mind at the moment. I was a little impressed that he still managed to control himself when he stopped slurping My cockhead and started measuring it. He looked at the numbers and proudly announced, “33 centimetres (13”) with a circumference of 30 cm (12”). The biggest and thickest in the whole Ukrainian army!” I nodded in approval - good to be informed scientifically about My superiority to other “men”. It will make My decision to subjugate other soldiers quicker. In case they would act cocky, I would order them to take out their dicks and compare them to My cock. I would always win and the guys would have to give Me their asses, if I wished so. Easy job. I looked at the doctor who now told me he needs a sample of my sperm in order to check My virility. “You doubt My virility?!” I raised My voice. He immediately turned rather pale and told Me he does not, but he needs it to be scientifically lab tested in order to check My health levels for the special assignment I might be given. I just nodded in approval and pointed at him and at My cock. He understood immediately and rushed to My cock with a measuring cup. I smirked looking at the size of it. It could barely hold 50 ml (1.6 oz.) of sperm, a small fraction of what I usually cum. But it was designed for average humans, not for virile muscle gods. I expected the doctor to drink the rest of My cum, which would not fit in the cup. The doc returned to worshipping My cock with his hands and mouth. You could see he was well trained - not like the bimbos I fucked after the wrestling matches. He really knew how and where to touch it and squeeze it. I was soon close to cumming and he felt it too. He was puzzled, cause he knew he had to catch My cum in the cup, but at the same time he was unable to stop himself from giving head to Me. I decided to release him from his dilemmas and told him that there will be more cum than he needs both for the cup and for his mouth. Without taking My cock out of his mouth, he nodded in approval and awe and continued slurping. A few moments later, I growled and started cumming. In My standards, it was just an average cumshot, but the unprepared doc was shocked. He was too slow in swallowing My nectar, so his cheeks quickly filled with My cum and it started pouring out of his mouth. He rapidly put the cup under his own chin and in no time, it was completely full with My seed too. As he started choking on My cum, he released My rod which continued shooting and making his doctor's smock completely covered with My juices. From now on he was marked as My property. As I finished shooting, I looked down at the doc’s pants and saw the obvious - he came, too. He will be taught that next time he is to ask permission for cumming in My presence. But it was my first day in the army and not all of My rules have been applied here yet. This will change as time passes and people will learn to obey My orders. Even those who are theoretically above Me, as they have a higher military rank. That will not prevent them from being subjugated by Me. On the contrary - it will make their fall under My feet even sweeter. If needed, some will be snuffed in the process. It will just make My glory and My fame greater. The doctor came back to his senses from the biggest orgasm he ever had (till now) and started looking around. His face and his smock was covered with My cum, the cup was completely full and there was a large puddle of My goo on the floor. I decided to slowly start training My new sub and ordered him to lick the floor clean. He looked up at Me with a question in his eyes, but when he met My steel gaze, he immediately understood that I am deadly serious and started cleaning the floor with his tongue. He took his wet smock off which allowed me to inspect his upper body. It was nicely shaped. I could see that doc was a regular in the gym and that his diet was well under control. His arms had decent biceps and the pecs were nice and juicy. His abs were clearly visible. His ass was deliciously sticking up as he kneeled, licking the floor. I found his body worth My fuck next time we do it again. The fact that he was a top, of which I was informed later, did not matter to Me. For Me all were bottoms. I usually preferred tops even more, as their asses were tighter, although for My rod every ass was tight, especially during the first few fucks. The doc finished licking My goo and turned around. In the meantime, I walked behind the desk and sat on his chair. The chair squeaked under My weight. To help the poor chair a bit, I put My huge muscular long legs on the doc’s desk, trying not to crush his keyboard in the process. The doc was at first shocked to see Me sitting from where he usually commanded the room and the subordinates, but he understood that from now on the hierarchy will look different. He took a small chair opposite the desk and sat like a suppliant in his own office. His eyes were sliding over My huge muscles which were simply relaxing after a pleasant fuck. I looked at him and said, “So - what special assignment are you giving Me?” He replied, “It’s not sure that you would be given it. There are a number of other potential candidates.” I repeated My question slightly louder, “So - what special assignment ARE you giving ME?” He swallowed his saliva and said, “It is most likely that you will indeed be the one we are looking for. So far you tick all the boxes of the perfect candidate. We would like to create a super soldier who would significantly raise our chances of winning this war. We need someone who is extremely powerful to make him even more powerful, beyond what humans usually can do. But there are several restrictions, potential bottlenecks and side effects. That’s why, for example, we need to test your sperm. We will also need to check how you react to the serum, as you may be allergic to it, which would ruin the whole experiment.” “Then test it now,” I said. “Now??” He clearly did not expect such an answer. “Yes. Inject it and let’s see.” The doc quickly analysed something in his head and agreed. He took a syringe and filled it with some purple liquid. He told Me that due to My size, he will apply a double dose of the serum. I approved his proposal. He will learn that he can propose something, but it is Me who will take the decision. As a smart doc, he already was learning it, even if subconsciously. The injection was quick and a bit painful. I love pain, both when I apply it and when I receive it, so it was a pleasure. The doc told me that we need to wait at least five minutes to see the first results. After five or six minutes, I started feeling really good. Even more manly that I usually do. I didn’t see much of a difference in My body. Maybe only My muscles were more tense and dense. Suddenly the door opened and an officer entered holding one of the average Joes who were recruited with me. The Joe seemed frightened and the officer aroused. He shouted at the doc, “Andryi - this recruit is not from Odessa as he claims. We just found out he is a Russian spy who wanted to infiltrate our army. What shall we do with him?” Andryi, as now I knew the docs name (I didn’t care how he was named till now), told the officer that the potential spy needs to be interrogated and that we can use me to do it. Then he turned around to Me and he realised he committed a grave error. He looked apologetically towards Me and said, “Sir, would you approve of interrogating this scum?” The doc was a fast learner. He even started calling Me “Sir” before I ordered him to do so. I was impressed. I approved his proposal and took over Ivan or whatever his name was. I felt anger, as the guy wanted to infiltrate My new barracks and put Me in theoretical danger. Before I even said a word to him, I punched him quickly in the face. He was completely unprepared (neither was the officer who held him). Due to the impact of My fist, Ivan hit the wall behind him and fell to his knees. The officer managed to jump aside, but he was angry. I didn’t care. Ivan in the meantime spit out two of his teeth. His nose was broken and he started to bleed. He looked from his position up to Me. He saw a muscular giant towering him nearly up to the ceiling wearing only briefs. He saw the anger in my eyes. He knew that I would not play along any civilised rules of interrogating a suspect and that I wouldn’t care if he dies in the process. His correct analysis of his situation was brutally interrupted by My kick in his chest. I loved kickboxing and I knew how to kick to create the most impact. His eyes nearly popped out, he was lifted up from the ground by the impact and he could not breathe for a longer moment. His chest had a huge bruise roughly in the shape of my foot. And I have really big feet. He started coughing and spit out some blood. But even before he could catch his breath after the kick, a new wave of pain emerged in his body, as my foot after the kick landed on his left palm on which he tried to support his upper body in order to regain breathing. I weighed over 140 kg (310 lbs) then and I had no mercy to use My weight in order to crush his finger bones. In order to do it completely I twisted My heel, nicely pulverising them in the process. His shriek was heard quite from afar. I was happy he quickly understood his position and started begging me to stop. We started the interview. The officer asked a question. If the victim did not reply immediately, he lost another part of his flesh or bones. Fifteen minutes later we knew his real name, his unit, his commander, his home address, the codes he was to be using to connect his home unit, even his bank account number in Moscow and the PIN card to the new account he just got in Ukraine. As well as all the data of his girlfriend. Ivan just lost one eye in the process (I didn’t expect it to float out so easily). His left leg was broken, the bone sticking out through the mangled muscle. His left hand was pulverised and his small balls were ripped off. I gave them to doc as a souvenir. But he was alive and even conscious. He probably cursed the day he agreed to take this mission and even more the moment he stumbled upon Me. The officer took the victim out of the room into his new prison cell. It just left the two of us. The doc was clearly impressed. He told both Me that the serum worked exactly as expected. It gave me way more power and precision. I thought back at the interview and indeed noticed that breaking bones was way easier for Me than it normally was. I was even impressed how soft the victim was and how effortless it was to crack him. Now I knew that he might have been completely normal and it was Me who gained so much more strength as to make breaking a human a piece of cake. * * * CHAPTER 2 It took Me a few weeks to get used to My new strength level. I crushed and meld several things in the process. Dumbbells, knives, plates, mugs, even a rifle, although that was by pure coincidence. My PRs in the gym seemed so easy to break. Deadlift, bench press, squat - all were surpassed by 25-50%. I was fed well and gained new muscle mass. The doc took good care of Me and fed me with the best supplements on top of the serum he was giving Me. I demanded two servants, who were to fulfill My needs day and night. My officer (whom I subbed the first night I met him) talked to his commander, who at first rejected My proposal. My officer did not know how to inform Me about the fact that someone dared to contradict Me. When I finally forced him to tell it (a good choking session with My biceps always helps), I smiled and said that I always like some challenges. He relaxed and was even rewarded for his loyalty to Me with his first ass fuck. He couldn’t walk properly for three days after that. But he seemed happy and treated this as a special recognition. After fucking My superior (only in rank, as he was inferior to Me in every way, even though he looked quite decent for a human), I went to the major. He seemed not to be aware yet that I gave the orders here. I entered his office just after a gym session. I was wearing a tank top, which revealed the incredible size of My muscles. I didn’t even bother to knock. The major was behind his desk. He was a skinny short guy in his late 40-ties. We never met before, as he was on a mission somewhere in the past days. He heard about Me of course, just like everyone on the campus. Now he was about to learn his position in MY campus. He looked at Me from behind the desk and was clearly impressed. He did not dare to protest that I entered his office without even knocking, let alone having an appointment. I came straight to his desk, sweaty still from the good upper body workout I just had. My manly musk filled in the room, as the windows were closed. “So it is you, Serhyi!” said the major. “Yes, it’s Me, Oleh,” I replied. I didn’t bother to name him by rank and directly called him by name, crossing all the rules in the Ukrainian army. This was to make him understand that rules apply to others, but not to Me. And to make him softer to crack. I sat on his desk with My ass and back towards him. But as I came here with friendly intentions, I turned My head towards him and even slightly smiled. He was shocked by My behaviour, but I didn’t give him time to get used to it, as I started nonchalantly taking off My military boots. “I heard you did not fulfill My order, which I sent to you via My intermediary. I am a busy man and I do not have time to do all the things myself. As you already know, I am the pinnacle of your army and as such, I expect respect from all. You included. From you, I also expect obedience, as you seem to have some power here. Your powers are to be used to emphasize My power and My authority. If you have a stupid idea to go against Me, we will have a big problem here. I will need to talk to your commander and have you replaced. And it might be quite painful. For you of course.” As I spoke, the small man became smaller and smaller. He was sweating and had a clear problem speaking since I entered the room. Having no response from him, I paused to speak and started to take My socks off. The room was filled in with My scent even more. If someone had entered it, he would not feel the smell of another male in the room. As, in fact, there was no other male in the room. The other human was reduced to his asexual agamic form. I continued to speak, “You have the reports about My strength, My abilities and My new superpowers. In fact, I am currently sitting on this report. You therefore know what I am capable of. Your report probably includes information about the two guys I already killed here and a few others who got injured. I came here with friendly intentions and want you to be happy to work for Me. Remember that My success will also be your success, if I allow you to continue commanding this unit. So - will you agree to submit to My power and fulfill My orders and needs?” He clearly read the report and knew I could kill him on spot before he even could cry for help. Still unable to speak, he nodded his head. “Good!” I replied. “You will address Me as Sir from now on". He nodded again. “Now let Me give you a little reward for your cooperation. Go under your desk and stick your head from My side, facing up, so that you can see Me sitting here.” He obeyed. Good, cause snuffing him would create a bit of havoc, would delay My transformation and the short-term pleasure would be outweighed by mid-term nuisances. His head appeared from underneath the desk, right between My feet. From this perspective, I seemed even bigger to the major. “To visualise our new relations, you are to lick all the sweat off My feet. I know you will enjoy it.” The guy was so confused at this moment, that he started licking before his brain analysed what I just told him. Then it was too late to stop and he continued his feet worshipping session. I took out My mobile and did a series of photos and a video of him servicing My feet to blackmail him in case he has the dumb idea to resist Me next time. If he is good however, I might send him a copy, so that he has some jerk off material when I am not around. After the first few moments of overwhelming fear, I could see Oleh started to relax and enjoy his new position. I knew he was a feet fetishist from his lover, beautiful blonde-haired Junior Lieutenant Irina. She was not only his lover. In fact, she fucked every tenth soldier in this campus. She slid into My bed the second night I was there and she got way more than what she was expecting. I gave her more orgasms than she had in the last two months combined. I also made her holes too wide for most of the soldiers. She gave me lots of secret info on anyone worth My or her fuck. She remained My fuckspy throughout the whole time. We agreed however that I would only fuck her in the ass and only halfway deep. Otherwise she would not be able to fuck other guys well, making her way less useful for Me. In the meantime, Oleh was moaning and getting close to orgasm. I heard a strange sound from the other side of the door. The serum enhanced my hearing abilities; I could hear sounds normal humans could not. Without a hesitation, I took out a knife I had in My pocket and threw it forcefully at the door which was on the opposite side of the room. The knife flew perfectly and with a loud thud entered the door up to its handgrip. I heard a sigh and saw drops of blood mixed with brain dripping of the blade. Someone who dared to listen to My interaction with Oleh has just been snuffed. Probably another Russian spy whose task was to control what Oleh was doing. Oleh understood what just happened, but he was already too high and it just made his arousal higher. He started cumming under the desk. I didn’t even care to see it. Once he finished, I prepared to jump off the desk. He was petrified. His face grew ashen and his skin taut against his skull as he thought I would crush his skull. My 150 kg (330 lbs) hard flesh flying into his skull would certainly make his death a quick one. Although I killed a guy just a minute ago, I had no intentions of adding Oleh to this list. Not today. I swiftly landed just above his head, turned around so that I could face him and unzipped My fly. He got terrified again, as he thought I would fuck him. He was straight and never had male sex till now. But that was not on My menu either. His body looked so pathetic, that My cock did not even get a hard on in the process. I took out My cock so that I could piss on him, further engraving in his mind his position in My presence. After emptying My bladder, I left the room, leaving the commander in My piss on the floor under his own desk. I opened the door with the spy still pinned by My knife to it and took My knife back, wiping the blade with the uniform of the dead guy. I didn’t even check who he was. It was irrelevant currently, was it not?
  23. mmvmgo2011

    Vaccinated

    Hi all Long time lurker. I thought I'd start a story that's been mulling around in my head for a while now. I'm still not sure where it's ultimately headed - though I'm hoping it won't go where you think it might. I have some ideas for the direction - but nothing concrete. There could be anything - so fair warning - if you're easily offended, or grossed out, or whatever, this may not be the thread for you. I'm planning on keeping each chapter fairly short, but hoping to post updates more often. It's my first ever story - so be kind, or not ... EDIT: I've purposefully not given our main protagonist a name, but will use uppercase HE/HIM/HIS to refer to HIM. I'm gradually editing each entry to fix this after the fact. Apologies if it's hard to follow. ******* CHAPTER ONE It was over. Well, IT wasn’t over, but the race to find a vaccine against the SARS-CoV-2 virus, the virus that caused COVID-19, was done. The company where HE worked had lost the race. There were five or six vaccine candidates approved worldwide, some mRNA based, some more traditional. HIS company had spent billions of dollars, and would never recoup those R&D losses releasing vaccine number six or seven, even if it was more effective. If only it was even slightly effective. The project was shelved and, indeed, the existence of the company itself was now under threat. Word had come down from on high that afternoon; a Thursday. The staff were shocked, but not particularly surprised. Everyone expected the axe to fall at some point — many surprised it took as long as it did. It was always a radical and ambitious plan. A plan that would pay massive dividends if it paid off - not only in immediate sales of vaccine, but in lucrative patents that would forever change vaccine development and progress medical science as we’d known it. As the old saying goes, if it’s too good to be true… A vaccine that reprogrammed the patient’s DNA so that the patient’s own immune system would produce the cells and antibodies necessary to fight the virus would not only prevent COVID-19 disease, it would also prevent transmission of the virus causing the disease, ending the pandemic once and for all. But that was small fry compared to future developments. No more influenza, common cold, herpes, HIV, Hepatitis… any infection known to man — virus, bacteria, fungi — would be cured. And even the big C, cancer. Well, it WAS ambitious. But it was not to be. Though the theory seemed sound, putting the theory into practice proved… challenging. Hundreds of billions of dollars were spent trying to make it work and, though there was some promising early results in vitro, every single tested animal had resulted in horribly disfigured or dead animals. Not exactly ready for initial human trials, let alone approval for final manufacture and sale. The bean counters and lawyers were still crunching the numbers and considering the options, but it seemed that so little progress had been made converting theory into practice that everything relating to the project, from samples to formulas, from notes to equipment, from methods to specialised equipment — everything — was effectively worthless.
  24. FallenAway

    Mister Alpha by LORUS

    With the author's permission I am reposting stories that were written for the old forum and were later deleted. Fortunately, I saved copies for myself because I like his work very much. This is a single-episode short story that might be referred to as a "one-shot," but the number of times you shoot while reading the story is entirely up to you. MISTER ALPHA by LORUS Lane Huntington took up most of the king-size bed at the Forbes Plaza Hotel, where he’d been staying at the expense of his mysterious benefactor, Ward Melchior. He had yet to meet the man in person, but already the enigmatic billionaire’s lavish hospitality had given the young bodybuilder a taste of what it was like to live a five-star penthouse suite kind of existence. Lane liked it. He liked it a lot... and he wanted it all. Stud-A stirred in his sleep to his left, whilst Stud-B, to his right, adjusted his position somewhat, feeling up the powerful bags of muscle that formed Lane’s impressively sculpted chest, but not entirely waking up. Lane loved every moment of it. The twinks were both Brazilian and tremendously beautiful, each one endowed with superstar looks, although Lane’s features – from head-to-toe – completely overshadowed them in just about every way. He’d just won the Mister Alpha Muscle Pageant, staged only that previous night, at the Forbes Plaza which was just one of a multitude of hotels owned by Melchior. The billionaire, it seemed, had a thing for musclemen... the bigger the better. Well... they didn’t come bigger than Lane Huntington. He was horny as fuck, although he’d milked both Studs dry several times during last night’s steamiest of bedroom romps. They were depleted and wouldn’t be of any use to him for hours yet. Melchior had insisted, over the phone, that part of the prize for winning the pageant was that he could order anything he wanted... room-service being only too happy to oblige. Lane was stiff as a board, now, and gazed down at his beautiful and super-ripped muscle-bod as he ran his fingers down along his rock-hard flesh, not a hair in sight, except for the thick, dark bush of his pubes. Elsewhere he was smooth and taut, and oh... how his muscles looked so beautiful... for they seemed to get bigger and better with each passing day. His fingers played, for a time, with his fully erect pole, and he gasped, constantly overwhelmed by its mammoth size. “Fourteen inches hard. Awww I can barely close my fingers around it at its thickest point. So much blood going into it.... heh... makes me light-headed.” He needed to fuck.... badly. Stud-A and B were sleeping off the ecstasy he delivered into them both via his huge fuck-rod, their rectal passages stretched beyond anything they could ever have put into themselves in the past. “Room-service,” he called aloud. Immediately a computer-generated woman appeared as a life-sized holographic display, projected from an orb set into the ceiling. There was one in every room. State-of-the-art technology... the best money could buy. “You called, Mister Huntington? How may I be of service,” the voice, a sample of that of actress Sharon Stone, politely inquired. “Bring me breakfast. I’m starving. I want eggs over easy, hash browns, bacon and mushrooms, coffee, orange juice and some bran muffins. And send up the two studly runners-up in the Pageant I so deserved to win. They’re gonna get so goddam fucked they’ll be singin’ like Shirley Temple for the rest of their lives.” Being the Alpha Male made Lane ever so cocky. He loved to be arrogant and self-obsessed. It boned him just thinking of words like that which so accurately described him. “Right away, Mister Huntington. Will there be anything else,” the cyber-Sharon inquired, as per her programming. Lane thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, tell me something I want to hear, bitch,” he growled, now jerking lightly on his rod just to get the precum flowing. “You are the sexiest... hugest... most well-endowed... motherfuckin’ sex-god, not only staying at the hotel, but in the entire world, Mister Huntington,” the hologram replied, smiling her polygonal smile, implying emotions she didn’t really have. “Yeah, you better believe it,” he snorted gruffly, bouncing his pecs to get the blood flowing better. “Thank you for choosing Forbes Plaza, Mister Huntington. Your room-service will arrive shortly.” And Sharon blinked-out in a trice. “Damn... I won’t be able to wait for shortly to arrive,” he growled, stiffening every part of him as he lay between the dreaming twinks. Precum drizzled down his dick in copious, sticky rivulets. His fingers were coated in it. And so, he licked each one clean, the taste intensifying his burgeoning lust. “The only gay in the competition that I know of, and I fuckin’ outmuscled every one of ‘em. Fuck yeah!” He couldn’t stop himself from turning Stud-B over on the bed and then straddling him, so worked-up into a lather of lust, that he must relieve himself into the exhausted, sleeping twenty-year-old from Sao Paolo. He entered the young man, his precum gushing out of him, now, adding to the manly soils already making the mattress damp. Stud-B winced and came awake with a start. “Unnnngh,” was all he could say (neither spoke a word of English anyway). “Take all these hunky, fuckin’ hot inches of my horny weapon....grrrrr!” Lane’s lust got lustier as he took the twink, ploughing so much length, so much wet, sticky cock into his tight-but-serviceable bubble butt. Stud-B moaned out of sheer bliss, clawing at the pillow that now engulfed his face, pressing his butt upwards with every ounce of his strength, pushing against Lane’s monstrous invasion, but the bodybuilding hunk’s power was too great. Stud-B passed out once more, utterly exhausted, but Lane, a master when it came to controlling his passions, held off from cumming, but momentarily swam through the reverie created by his ever-rising sense of bliss. He wanted more, however.... he wanted to mega-fuck. Room service arrived in the form of a very cute, quite well-built hotel porter, and he filled-out his uniform more than adequately. The youth, no more than nineteen or maybe twenty, was very beautiful and immediately Lane found himself drawn to him. Behind the porter, Max Mason, and Alfredo Desoto, first and second runners-up in the Mister Alpha Muscle Pageant, stood in just their posing suits from the night before. Glistening and rippling, the hunks seemed a little nervous, knowing what their fates had in store for them this day. But they had to comply. Ward Melchior would have it no other way. Lane made a bolt for the food trolley, but he noticed the bulge in the front of the porter’s workpants, deciding that right now the lad probably loved his job more than anything because he got to witness events of this magnitude: standing in a room with three huge bodybuilders and two unconscious Brazilian hunks. The smell of manly musk formed of precum, sweat and spunk, hung heavily in the air. Anyone caught in its miasma immediately grew hard, even Max and Alfredo, both of whom were happily married with wives and kids. Weren’t they all staying at the hotel? Lane didn’t care about such things. He only cared about himself and getting what he wanted. Lane gorged on the food as the porter stood next to the trolley, his brow dappled with the kind of sweat that suggested he was uncomfortable. “You gay?” Lane enquired, between mouthfuls of breakfast. He slurped his orange juice noisily. Despite that he was the most gorgeous man in the world, his eating habits easily tied with those of your average farmyard pig. “Uh, no sir,” the porter replied with a somewhat evident tremor to his voice. “Bet you do gay webcam, Sean Cody kinda stuff, to get yourself through med-school, though, or something like that. Bellboy wages can’t pay your bills alone.” “Unngh...I...er... have done stuff in the pa––” Before the lad could finish: “Get that sexy body of yours naked... by the time I count to five, or I’ll fuckin’ tear that uniform off you,” Lane, now done with eating, commanded as the Alpha that he was. No man would be able to resist him. He flexed a double-biceps pose whilst still seated at the edge of the bed. Massive upright peaks of rock-hard muscle exploded upwards, pressing against his thick forearms so that the pressure against the spaghetti-network of veins on his arms caused the blood within to flow even faster. The extra pressure made his veins bulge even more, and his hungry muscles gorged on the blood, fueling themselves to grow bigger and harder. Behind the porter, Max and Alfredo, confirmed heterosexuals both, balked at the idea of being dominated by Huntington, but when they saw how much bigger his biceps looked this morning – compared with last night on stage – primordial lusts awakened in them, and their cocks soon became too big for their tight, sexy posers. “What’s your name, kid?” Lane repeatedly bounced his pecs before the porter, his taut but pouting nipples pointing perfectly downward, each one somewhat blurred by the very crescent-shaped shadow cast by the jutting, bulbous under-swell of each pec-mound. “Unnngh.... Steve, sir... Steve Highway,” the lad answered, as he began to shrug off his clothing. “Nice name... but you’re too fucking slow,” growled Lane, and he shot off the bed, knocking over the breakfast trolley as he went, bounding towards Steve, almost with furious intent, his muscles seething, shifting as if in metamorphosis. With one tug he ripped through Steve’s uniform and gasped, smiling, at the sight of his thickly muscled, impressively shredded bodybuilder’s physique now on show. He was blonde-haired, and so he had a light dusting of fine blonde hairs across his thickly fleshed pec-rack. He shuddered against Lane’s sudden advances, and every muscle across his upper body flexed simultaneously. “Jeezus... you should have competed with me last night, not that you’d have won against me. But you might’ve finished sixth place, maybe fifth.” “Suh-sir.... please.... I have to get back to wo....mmmphfffff!” Steve’s ability to speak was silenced as Lane Huntington fucked his face with a tongue that would put a horse’s to shame. “I always get what I want mmmmmmm,” Lane boasted and sucked on Steve so hard, he could have cut off his air-supply, rendering him unconscious. But the lad was strong... and could be huge if he put his mind to it, so Lane thought. Lane now worked feverishly at Steve’s cock, delighting – gasping – at how it pulsed hugely in his grasp, filling out, thickening to a massive size. “Whoa... what you got down there.... unngh... ten inches, beer-can-thick?” Lane’s lust had him dripping cups of precum at a time. The carpet upon which he stood was soon sodden. “Mmmmpfff....gasp.... more like.... unngh... twelve, suh-sir.... eight and a half thick... oh god!!” “Well, you’re about to... unngh... feel what fourteen inches feels like.... fuck yeah.... I’m the fucking biggest in every fucking body-part.... unngh yeah!!!!” Lane blasted a full lat-spread right in front of Steve. Being three inches taller than the blonde six-footer, Lane hefted up his gloriously striated pectorals and his usually downward-pointing nipples shot into an outward-jutting position. The top of his pecs flexed so high, why... he could comfortably rub the tip of his nose against them. Beneath his nose, a dirty sex-mad tongue massaged drool all over his heaved pecs. Steve, overwhelmed by lust, began to suck on his nipples, firstly the one on the left, whilst pinching the one on the right between fingers that had so obviously performed this ritual before. He made his fingers to journey across the amazing topography of Lane’s back, tracing invisible lines along the bumps and valleys which his back’s musculature consisted of. The divisions between each muscle were deep enough to hide coins in. In fact, Lane Huntington’s striations could probably hide a couple of hundred bucks worth of change. “Alfredo, you pipsqueak... get behind Steve. Start working him from behind,” Lane snapped an order. Then, to Max: “Fuckwad... kneel on the bed behind me and stick that long tongue of yours you love to wag onstage to the audience, stick it far up my ass. Don’t stop tonguing me until I say you can. Grrrrrrrr.... get to it!!!!!” The runners-up to Mister Alpha Muscle, both stared blankly at one another, and quickly removed their wedding rings before carrying out Lane’s instructions. “Mmmm.... you’re the best fucking thing to come out of this,” Lane moaned, kissing Steve so hard, over and over, whilst the college student worked his hands all over the massive bodybuilder’s incredible physique. His muscles were beyond comparison. Secretly Steve wished he could get this big one day. Certainly, being with Lane, now, like this, heightened a muscle-lust Steve didn’t know he had. “From now on... forget whoring it online with your inferior fuckbuddies... forget any big-tittied-bitch you might have for a girlfriend. You belong to me now, Stevie... you got it?” Lane blasted out another insanely peaked double biceps, and Steve cupped each bi with hands he considered to be bigger than average. Still, though, he had trouble getting his fingers around the apex of each bi. They were huge, over thirty inches each, easily putting his (moderate by comparison) twenty-one-inch guns to shame. “Yessir... I’m your boyfriend now... unngh,” moaned Steve, feeling the invasion of Alfredo’s rim job from behind, a new experience to them both. He returned his attention to Lane’s nipples and moaned in awe when Lane began to bounce each pec, so that Steve had to wrestle with his tongue to nip at each erect bud. Lane loved to have his nipples nipped at. He screamed out his bliss, which served to heighten the lusts of the others. Stud-A and B, now fully awake, began to fuck one another, enjoying the arousal of the orgy occurring before them. It went on like this for a long time, finally culminating in Lane Huntington blowing a massive load, so much warm, salty cream on tap for everyone present. Everyone showered in it and drank of it, for with balls that could swell to the size of touch footballs, Lane Huntington could produce a massive amount of spunk at a time. He fucked each one of them many times over, creaming again and again until it seemed he could never stop. His orgasm lasted for hours... it was unbelievable just how huge and sexually charged he had become. Finally depleted, they each one and all collapsed into a mountainous muscle pile atop a spunk-wet mattress with Lane forming its super-solid base, Max, Alfredo and Steve in the middle, and the Brazilian studs clambering on top. The bed groaned to support the weight of six men, with Lane Huntington the heaviest of them all. Lane slept soundly, so pleased with who he was and what he was capable of doing. It was brilliant being Mister Alpha. Epilogue: When he awoke, things were very different. He was alone in the hotel room, the bed immaculately fresh and clean. In fact, not a trace of the sex he’d had could be found anywhere. It had become a spunk-free zone. “But... the fuckin’ room was drenched in the stuff,” he reasoned. Even the mess from the toppled breakfast trolley was nowhere to be found. The entire suite was clean as a whistle. The massive bodybuilder got off the bed and quad-waddled from room to room. Everything was neat and in place, all signs of his earlier company non-existent. Could he have dreamed it? No way, for it was too real. He had been the muscle master, so much in control... but now? He was alone. The silence was disquieting. He decided to call for Room Service. Immediately Sharon the Cyber-Babe appeared, shimmering in holographic hues that alternated between various blues and greens. She was beautiful, if you liked that sort of thing, he figured. “Hello, Lane. How may I be of service?” Her voice was sensuous, soothing.... perhaps even hypnotic. “Where are the others? What’s going on here?” He didn’t like feeling out of control, but something about his sudden situation made him feel helpless, far from at ease. “They’ve gone, Lane. The average human can only take so much pleasure,” Sharon politely explained, grinning pleasantly, albeit artificially, “However, it could be argued that an Alpha like you was never average to begin with.” “I want to speak with Ward Melchior. I won his fuckin’ pageant, so I get to live out all the pleasures I deserve,” Lane, his anger rising, exclaimed harshly. “You are speaking with her, Lane. My name is Ward Melchior,” the hologram’s smile seemed more animated now... certainly more human in its aspect. “You.... you’re him? Buh-but....aw shit, this is fucked up.” He began to pace back and forth, gripping his temples as if to keep his skull from exploding as his brain struggled to make sense of what was suddenly going on. “I will try to keep it simple, Lane,” Ward Melchior explained, her body fleshing out into a more earthly palette, firming up, solidifying, but still vaguely translucent. “I’m all ears, lady,” Lane gruffly blurted. “You were in an accident. Your car went off the road and struck a tree. You happened to be near my research clinic when it happened and so the paramedics brought you to me. An ordinary man would have surely died, but as a bodybuilder you were afforded some protection. Alas, you couldn’t be saved. Fortunately, we specialize in preserving the human synapses and uploading them to our server, the Forbes Lowell Ethereal eXperience, or FLEX for short. Forbes Lowell was my father and founder of the clinic. He died two years ago, but he lives on as Steve Highway, the muscle-twink porter. Heh, he’d always hated his original name. Melchior is my name by marriage. I’m married to the world’s most renowned computer programmer who helped to build the FLEX server.” Ward paused speaking in order that Lane could digest what he was hearing. He found it difficult to get his head around it. “Wait... you’re telling me that I’m....DEAD? Buh-but, why the charade? Couldn't you have been a little more forthcoming with the truth?” A look of total perplexity washed across his handsome face. “Physically you are dead, but your brain patterns have been uploaded into your cyber-self. In essence you are still mentally alive... and always will be. These scenarios, or charades, are essential to gradually ease you into your new experience, hence the hotel and bodybuilding pageant scenario. In addition, your cyber body is even better than the real thing. Look,” said Ward, and sidestepped to allow a mirror to form up in front of him. Lane gazed. Lane gasped. “Jeezus.... I’m fuckin’ enormous,” he cried, completely shocked by his reflection. “We thought you’d like the improvements we made to your physical parameters,” said Ward with a chuckle. “It’s like that movie Vanilla Sky... the one with Tom Cruise in it,” said Lane, now posing like he’d never posed before. His body was “hulkingly” huge: easily three hundred pounds heavier than it had been when he’d been alive and competing at a shredded weight of 275. He massed into a bulging showcase.... a massive most muscular that flooded each muscle with humongous weight and definition. “Gonna pop,” he snarled, loving every moment of how he suddenly felt. “Well, this program was around before that movie was even thought of. But the comparison you make is sound.” Then... after a moment to allow Lane to further enjoy his massively sculpted, super-bloated and altogether beautiful body, she added: “We... can make you even bigger than you are now, Lane.” “Huh? How big?” He only half-heard her, so rapt was he on blasting out insane poses, muscles bunching ferociously, vascularity pushed beyond maximum, skin stretching snake-fashion to accommodate his muscular engorgement.... muscles climbing over muscles, smothered by their own combined mass. “Beyond your imagination, Lane,” said Ward, and before Lane’s disbelieving eyes, she morphed into Steve Highway, only this time he was as hugely muscled as Lane was himself. “Huh, I thought you said that Steve is your father. Jeezus, this is confusing.” Lane’s head began to swim from a combination of sensory overload and a sudden rush of blood southward, as his now twenty-inch cock sprung to attention at the site of the Steve Highway character displaying muscles as huge as Lane’s. “We like to share this image, from time to time. I’m still alive and have commitments beyond the server, so when you’re with Steve it’ll mostly be my father. But he’s sleeping now, so I get to use the body.” Ward/Steve moved closer to her/his new boyfriend, a secret which she would keep to herself and not inform her techie husband, for she had ways of keeping him out of her affairs when she traversed the server in cyber-form. “So your dad swings both ways, huh? I guess I’m okay with that.” Lane locked lips with Steve, their drooling tongues salivating with muscle-lust. Their huge, hulking muscle-bods became laved with musky sweat, their senses overwhelmed by their incredible, stunningly beautiful masses. The kissed for ages, fucked intensely for even longer, time seeming to stand still on the server, their lusts ever rising. And as they fucked, they grew to titanic proportions, thousands of pounds of muscle seethed across them, their dicks and balls swelling ever larger to cope with the demands made of their burgeoning lusts. “Don’t....gasp... let this end... not ever.... gonna cum.... gonna cum forever, fuck yeah!!!” “That’s doable,” gasped Steve, and with the merest mental command, both men shot massive loads whilst tonguing each other, slurping up each other’s cum as quickly as it was issued. They drank and drank... came and came. Time was meaningless here. And they continued to grow in every way imaginable... or unimaginable. Their orgasms intensified, their muscles bulging ever larger.... way larger.... too fuckin’ large, but then not large enough. Alpha became Omega. The circle closed and was re-opened.
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