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  1. Era de mañana en el diario "El Clarín", en una de sus oficinas se encontraba Peter Parker, un chico castaño de 27 años de edad, medía 1.85 y pesaba 90 kgs. de músculo, estéticamente bien distribuido, traía puesta esa mañana una camisa blanca que se ajustaba bien a su anatomía atlética, pero sin ser demasiado llamativo, la camisa se ajustaba bien en su pecho y bíceps, también llevaba un pantalón negro de vestir y un calzado del mismo color, bien lustrado, el cuello de su camisa desabotonado solo para permitirle respirar bien y no sofocarse, pues el viaje matutino usando sus poderes para llegar al diario había sido bastante veloz, tomó las mangas de la camisa y las arremangó para dejar descubiertos sus antebrazos mientras tomaba un folder con fotos de Spiderman, se sonrió entre sí. Estos meses habían sido importantes para él, encontró un traje alien que lo había mejorado por completo, le dió más velocidad, agilidad, fuerza, músculos, y sobre todo un crecimiento en su virilidad que él en un principio no podía creer, aún recordaba cuando solo medía 1.75 y pesaba solo 70kgs., era sorprendente lo que unos meses con el traje le habían hecho, de tener un pedazo de solo 16 cms. de virilidad en erección pasó a tener un monstruo de 25 cms. No dejaba de ver sus fotos, apaleando maleantes la noche anterior, era magnífico, pensaba en el puesto que estaba compitiendo en ese momento como fotógrafo de planta, el otro hombre definitivamente no tenía oportunidad, dió un sorbo a su café mientras seguía sentado y vió la puerta de entrada de la oficina. Llegó alguien, justamente el hombre que no tenía oportunidades contra Parker, era nada más y nada menos que su compañero de oficina, Eddie Brock. Eddie era ya un hombre de 37 años de edad, a pesar de ser mayor en edad que Peter, se veía más joven, era rubio, de cabello corto, facciones joviales, ojos azules y totalmente lampiño, la vida no le había favorecido, nunca tuvo oportunidad de ejercitarse, ni hacer dietas u otro tipo de cosas debido a su físico, medía tan solo 1,65 cms de alto y pesaba tan solo 60kgs., definitivamente no imponía de ninguna forma, todo mundo le pasaba por encima y últimamente alguien en especial. El pobre Eddie llegó agitado y sudando a la oficina, con su maletín color café a un lado. Eddie estaba vestido con una camisa de color azul cielo que resaltaba aquellos ojos suyos, un pantalón café y calzado del mismo color, todo se hubiera visto bien de no ser por que todo le quedaba grande, a excepción del calzado, la camisa le colgaba de los laterales, y ni que decir de los hombros y las mangas, daba la impresión de que un niño se había vestido con la ropa de su padre, debido a ello nunca tuvo oportunidad de ligar con alguien en su vida. Mientras aún respiraba de manera agitada veía a Parker bastante fresco y seguro de su persona. Eddie se cuestionaba cómo era posible que Parker estaba así si vivía más lejos que él del trabajo, a pesar de tener cierto recelo al castaño, lo saludó ... - Hola, buenos días Parker - Se oyó su voz algo aguda, parecía la voz de un joven de 15 años. - ¿Cómo le haces para llegar antes que yo, si yo vivo más cerca? Peter lo miró de reojo y sonriendo mientras tomaba su café, le dijo: - Por que me levanto más temprano que tú, "amiguito". Eddie miró a Parker, notó que el castaño había mejorado mucho su físico en los últimos meses, sabía que eso no era normal en una persona, además Eddie siempre peleaba por entrar en el bus de la primera hora, mínimo debería que ver a Parker en el transporte o llegar al mismo tiempo si es que Peter tomaba el bus de otra ruta. Eddie terminó por mejor dejar de pensar en ello y se metió al baño para refrescarse un poco, aún así no podía dejar de sentirse frustrado, al salir vio al Sr. Jameson hablando con Peter y solo dijo él: - Hola Sr ... Jameson y Parker vieron al rubio de reojo y siguieron en su plática ... si, literalmente lo habían ignorado. Parker le mostró al jefe sus fotos de Spiderman, Jameson quedó satisfecho como siempre con aquellas fotografías, las tomó y se fue sin decir nada, Peter vio al rubio de nuevo ... -Vaya, de nuevo se te fue el avión del éxito " amiguito ". - El castaño volvió a tomar su café y a darle un sorbo mientras se recargaba en el rubio y lo veía como poca cosa - No te preocupes Eddie, siempre debe haber un segundón para que el primer lugar brille más y descuida, cuando me den el puesto , serás mi "asistonto", te lo aseguro. El rubio apretó su puño y saco su hombro del contacto de Parker para después tomar su maletín y probar suerte en la ciudad por unas fotografías. Peter solo lo vió: -Bye "pequeñín". Oye cuando vuelvas de pasear tráeme un café ... - El castaño sonrió mientras veía salir al rubio -Pobre Eddie, casi me da pena el pobre, pero bueno, no puede competir con un súper hombre como yo ... Parker se quedó de ocioso en la oficina mientras esperaba que fuera más tarde para la hora de la comida, total, al final sabía que en la noche tomaría sus fotos, mientras tanto cuando Eddie salía ... - Maldito parker, su actitud ha cambiado , es un pedante ahora- murmuraba el rubio mientras iba a su lugar secreto dentro del diario, era un cubículo abandonado y muy reducido, solo tenía espacio para una silla y unas cuantas cosas, Eddie entró y activó su radio clandestino de la policía mientras seguía pensando en Parker - solo por que ha cambiado su físico y tiene suerte con las fotos me trata así. Ya se había hecho tarde y Parker tenía hambre ya: - ¡Maldición Brock !, ¡¿Dónde te metiste?!, Sabes que quiero mi comida a cierta hora, maldito enano. - Peter salió de la oficina bastante enojado y se dirigió a la calle para comprar algo y así calmar su apetito, ya pudiendo comprar algo se tranquilizó un poco, pero seguía molesto debido a que aún consumiendo lo que había comprado, su hambre no desaparecía. - Comí demasiado y aún tengo hambre, no lo entiendo, ¡¿Por qué me está pasando esto ?! - El castaño empezaba a enfadarse más, pero en ese momento comenzó a activarse su sentido arácnido. - Sí, lo que me faltaba- se fue a un callejón oscuro y metió su ropa de civil en una bolsa de telaraña -Vamos a perseguir a los chicos malos y a tomar fotos. Mientras tanto Brock salía a toda prisa, escuchó sobre un asalto a un banco cercano y salió disparado del diario, directo a la acción. Al salir vió al mismo tiempo a Spiderman ir hacia la escena del crimen, no era lejos, Brock corrió lo más deprisa que podía, pero llegó demasiado tarde, al estar ya en el lugar solo vio cómo Spiderman salía de escena y varios criminales envueltos en telaraña, pegados a los postes de luz, el rubio se sintió fatal, otra escena de acción se le había escapado. - Maldición, así no lograré nada. Tomó fotos de lo que podía y regresó al diario lo más pronto que pudo, tenía en mente lograr ofrecer sus fotos antes de que Parker apareciera, aunque era muy raro, Peter nunca estaba en la escena y aún así conseguía fotos. Al llegar a la oficina se sorprendió, Parker ya estaba ahí, entregándole varias fotos a Jameson. Brock veía como su oportunidad se desvanecía mientras el jefe entraba a su oficina con Peter detrás de él, el pequeño rubio solo se sentó en su escritorio bastante agitado de tanto correr y entonces ... -¡¡¡Brock !!! Parker gritó como si fuera el jefe al entrar en su oficina compartida, mientras que el rubio solo lo veía con enfado y Parker cerraba de un portazo el lugar y Eddie lo cuestionó. -No sé cómo le haces ... Tú estabas aquí en la oficina y vuelves con fotos y no estás cansado ... - Peter se acercaba poco a poco a Brock que aún seguía agitado, pero confrontándolo, el rubio no sabía si eso era una buena idea o no, pero ya lo estaba haciendo. -¡¿Qué quieres Parker ?! -¡¿Qué quiero?! - Parker sonrió con algo de burla, y así tomó del cuello de la camisa con ambas manos a Brock, levantándolo del suelo, mientras el rubio veía como los pectorales, bíceps y antebrazos del castaño se tensaban en la camisa. - Esas no son maneras de contestarle a tu futuro jefe .- Parker acercó su cara a la del rubio - ¡¿Porqué olvidaste mi comida, maldito enano ?! -¿Cu ... cuál comida ?, No me pe ... pe ... pediste na..nada, solo un café... si regresaba, pero ... - ¡Cállate !, Deja de balbucear como estúpido , sabes que si te pido algo tienes que traer eso y más, en todo caso no me trajiste ¡Nada !, Eso no es de buenos amigos. ¿Oh si? Pequeño charal sudoroso. Las venas del antebrazo de Parker estaban dilatadas debido al tiempo de mantener suspendido al rubio. - Tú ... Tú no eras así .... ¿Que te pasó? - Dijo el rubio algo asustado y triste mientras el semblante de Parker cambiaba de ser agresivo a estar algo fuera de sí, soltando a Brock y dejándolo caer al suelo. - Yo ... Yo ..., Vete por comida y no tardes - El castaño le lanzó billetes en la cara a Brock - Hazlo ya ... Después de eso el rubio se arrastró por el suelo, tomó el dinero y salió disparado de la oficina, pero aún le temblaban algo las piernas. - Maldito Parker. ¿Qué se creé el idiota? No, mejor no lo hago enojar más, no se qué más me podría hacer - El rubio vuelve con una ensalada y pechuga de pollo asada, no había tardado nada en verdad. - Ahí tienes Parker, que te aproveche.- Eddie no pudo evitar decirlo con un tono algo desafiante. - Ya era hora - Mientras tanto Peter no prestó atención al tono de Brock, estaba tan hambriento que solo le importaba la comida, el rubio de lejos veía cómo Peter comía, parecía ansioso y desesperado, como un animal salvaje, incluso soltaba unos cuantos gruñidos , así que prefirió salir e ir al baño, mientras tanto solo pensaba en la conducta de Parker durante los últimos meses, se dirigió al baño del piso, abrió la puerta y se dirigió a uno de los mingitorios. Desenfundó su pedazo de carne, solo medía 8 cms., Y eso si fuera erecto, en reposo solo eran 5 cms, así es, el rubio era pequeño hasta en eso. Mientras orinaba y sentía pena por si mismo oyó abrirse la puerta del baño, para su desgracia era nada más y nada menos que Peter que lo observaba, el castaño comenzó a olfatear, cómo si oliera algo en el ambiente y mientras hacía eso su pantalón de vestir marcaba la gran erección de Parker, el pedazo caliente de 25 cms. de su entrepierna, estaba al máximo. - Aaaaahhhh- el castaño parecía apreciar algún olor. - Aquí huele ... - Dijo el castaño acercándose a Brock. -¿Qué quieres decir con eso? - Eddie guardó su falo y subió la bragueta de su pantalón, tenía un presentimiento y pensaba mejor salir lo antes posible de aquel lugar. - Seguro es el baño, está mal lavado, saldré y le diré al personal del aseo. Parker se acercó al rubio y lo tomó con bastante fuerza. - ¡Eres tú! ... ¡Tú apestas! - Parker volvió a cargar al rubio como lo había hecho ya hace rato y empezó a frotar su gran erección en la entrepierna de Eddie mientras al mismo tiempo le oprimía su pequeña hombría. -Quieres ser preñado.- El rubio estaba acorralado y se sintió indefenso, no podía ocultar su rostro de preocupación. -Parker, si ... si ... huelo así es por qué corrí mu ... mucho hoy ... Me pondré des ... desodorante para no mo ... molestarte ... - Tú quieres ser preñado- Parker parecía un animal salvaje que no razonaba. - ¡¿Preñarme?!, ¡¿A qué te refieres ?! Parker soltó a Brock pero solo para tomarlo fuertemente por la cintura. -Sabes que necesitas un macho, pequeña perra.- El castaño empezaba a merodear con su mano de forma lasciva el cuerpo del rubio aún por encima de la ropa de éste, la mano de Peter empezaba a deslizarse hacia la pelvis de Eddie, casi por tocar su hombría, pero en ese momento Parker se detuvo . - No ... No ... Esto no está bien ... No ... - Peter soltó al rubio de inmediato y salió rápidamente del baño. Eddie sudaba frío, solo en el baño, pegado a la pared aún, traumatizado, se sintió débil y frágil, sus piernas no dejaban de temblar, era la primera vez que alguien intentaba violarlo, solo pudo encogerse y quedarse en estado fetal en el piso de aquel baño.
  2. Chapter One : A Historical Case "Holmes, must you play that dirge?" As the great consulting detective stopped playing he looked at his partner, Doctor John Watson, with an odd expression. "Dirge?" asked Holmes "That is what it sounded like to me, and you have been playing it for the last hour without stopping. What is wrong with you?" "I'M BORED!" came the roared reply and with that Holmes threw the violin to the ground and humphed "I need stimulation. I know that Moriarty is still out there!" "He can't be" replied Watson and gesturing his friend to sit down he said, "I have just finished writing up the notes of that case, may I regale them to you?" "I have nothing better to do with my time!" complained Holmes and sat down with a bump in his chair. "It all began on the penultimate night of the year, some three hundred years ago!" began Watson as he regaled the story The night of March 30th 1649 felt like any other night to the citizens of Paris, but to the two horsemen galloping through the Bois de Boulogne, this night was different. Whilst they looked the same, both men looking as if they were true Titans, the reason for thieir gallop was different to each other. The slightly larger of the two men, whose strength was due to his size, looked at the other man with a concerned look. They had left Paris some thirty minutes prior, due to the man saying just one phrase "Tomorrow, I die, therefore have to do this" and seeking the man's permission asked him to follow him. And yet since then not a word had left the other's lips and not sure the reason for their flight, the man asked the only thing he could. "Mon chere, please tell me, why are you so sure you will die tomorrow? And what is this thing that you have to do?" No answer was given until the taller of the two men, just as strong as the other but this was due to his powerful frame, suddenly brought his horse to a stop outside an abandoned house and dismounting, gestured the larger man in. As they both entered, the taller man lit several torches inside and as he did, the larger man gasped in amazement. There at the head of the house, where in times of old, the owner of the house would be seated at some grand feast, were two chairs, one slightly wider than the other, made of oak. For the first time since leaving, the taller man spoke and said "Porthos, this is the last night that I live, therefore I wish to make you the only Titan in Paris, but need to test your resilence. Mon chere, tonight, we become men like never before!" Holmes looked at Watson with a strange look and asked him "Where did you find all that from then? We were not involved at that stage!" "That learned collegaue of yours, the man who calls himself Doctor, told me about it!" "The Doctor? A learned colleague? That man is as clever as I am and as for his...machine. If he had given me a bit more time I am sure I could have understood it" "If I may continue?" asked Watson a few moments later and was given permission by a grunt of disapproval. "Pull mon chere, pull against those manacles of oak, pull and show me that you are worthy of my gift!" As both men, now naked as they day they were born, sweat pouring off them, their bodies showing the agony and estacy of the feat of strength they were performing, pulled against the restraints holding their wrists and ankles, the taller of the two men started to moan. "Yes, I can feel it mon chere, your strength, your muscles bulging hard, your manhood, yes, yes, yes" and declared "TO ME, ADAM!" at which point his sword flew towards him and nestled in his groin. Panting hard, the man looked at the other man who nodded and with a might breath pulled as hard as he could. "FOR THE GLORY OF FRANCE" roared the taller man and as the sword started to glow he added "YOU HAVE THE GLORY!" "Two inverted men, testing their might in some manner of torture as seen on the stage like that Mr. Sandow person" scowled Holmes, "Well, now I know that the Doctor was making it up" "But Holmes, he was insistent, he even showed me the journals of King Louis, written by Captain Treville himself. These two men were in love with each other!" "Maybe, but..." and as Holmes shook his head, Watson nodded his "They were able to become even bigger and stronger than they were, and that's when things started to get interesting!" With a mighty roar both men, now twice as tall and strong, broke free of their prisons and as they landed on the floor, their chests heaving from the effort, they looked into each other's eyes and kissed. "Oh, what a touching scene!" The sudden declaration caused both men to look up and before they had time to react, two green glass balls landed either side of them and exploded releasing a green gas. As both men tried to hold their breath, it was no good and within moments the two men's eyes were completely glazed over. The man who had entered chuckled and taking out a notepad commanded the two men to stand, which they did without question, and announce themselves "The Ultimate Musketeer" replied the man with an emblem of the fleur de lys on his muscular chest "The Ultimate Titan" replied the other with an emblem of an anvil on his muscular chest "Otherwise known" said the man making a note, "as Lt. Henri de Ceredigion and Sub Lt. Issac de Portau of His Majesty's Musketeers from 1625 to 1649. Excellent" and with that he replaced the notebook and declared "Gentlemen, follow me, you shall be part of a scheme so daring that no one, not even Sherlock Holmes himself, will be able to solve it!" and with that he left with the two heroes, for that is what they were, following blankly. "You've turned the case into a penny dreadful haven't you? I mean really!" "I am just simply recanting what the Doctor told me, Sherlock, after all remember, we were not there!" "Can't you get to the part where I got involved?" "No, a good story needs an introduction, besides, we need a native American first!"
  3. pasidious

    Grindr Growth

    Alright, forgive me, please, but this may be a bit unrefined. I worked on this for far longer than I initially wanted to. It was supposed to be a simple, very short story. And then it became what it is. Weeks after starting it, I finally finished. And I'm not even sure I'm happy with it. But, I hope you can at least somewhat enjoy it. As usual, no one in the story is under 18. _______________ Grindr is probably the worst app ever. Wait. Scratch that. PEOPLE are the worst. All Grindr does is connect us to others. And I've found that people can't read or are just plain dumb. I don't know. Either way, I specifically put in my description that I'm attracted to muscular dudes. It's clearly written. So why, oh, why do I constantly still get a bunch of old saggy creepy dudes or skinny twig twinks? And a ton of fat blobs?? I mean, I know I'm no adonis. I'm not exactly a model, either. But I can't help what turns me on. I can't force myself turned on to settle for whatever I can get. If I have to force myself hard, then I might as well just jerk off. No need to involve anyone else. Grindr continues to be a failed experiment for me. I can't win with it. But there's this one ridiculously skinny twink dude who will not relent. I've ignored him, told him no, told him I'm not into him, and all manner of things to reject him. He still constantly messages me. I'm not one to block people. I hate when it's done to me, so I rarely block others. This dude hasn't done anything in particular to offend me. He's just eager and relentless. I have a pretty big cock. Not gonna lie. Eight inches and thick. I used to think I was average until I downloaded Grindr for the first time and got a glimpse of what else is out there. And the reactions I get when people see my cock... it's astounding. So, yeah, not my words. I have a big cock. Which, I suppose, is why many are hungry for it. But I'm turned on by only one thing. Muscle. Which is a concept lost on many. But this relentless dude. He's another level of dense. He doesn't get it. He is convinced I can make an exception. Like he can do something for me that no one else can. He ain't muscular, so it ain't gonna happen. And I've tried. Lord knows I've tried. I can't force it, though. I've even tried in the past to imagine muscles and muscle growth and anything else I can to get hard and stay hard. But it never works. I need the real thing. And he's convinced he needs my cock. "Dude you need to stop. I can't deal with you every day messaging me nonstop and I've told you a billion times by now I'm turned on by muscle." "You haven't experienced what my mouth can do." "Unless you explode into a muscle god from sucking my cock, I don't think there's anything you can do. You're a twig." Which was the most recent transcription of our conversation thread. And he did suddenly stop after that. He'd usually keep barraging me with more messages protesting my stubborn stance, but I'd never been so direct as in my last message. I guess I finally got through to him. But then two days later I got another message from him. I, of course, heard the telltale alert on my phone and, probably too eagerly, opened the app to see who the message was from. And my mood instantly dropped when I saw it was from him. "FUCKING hell," I thought to myself. I honestly thought he was done. "If I workout, will you let me suck you?" was his message. I wanted to plain ignore the message. I didn't want to acknowledge it. I didn't want to open the flood gates for more constant pestering. I didn't believe for one second he'd actually pick up a weight, and even if he did, he'd never do shit with it. But, somehow, the idea of him working out still intrigued me. I'm so attracted to muscle that I figured, what the hell? Let's see if he does anything. And it ain't like he's ugly. He's actually cute. What if he did add some muscle to his body? "If you workout AND add some muscle, then yeah, I'll consider it." And then silence from him for hours. It was past midnight when I got another message. "How much?" "How much what?" "Muscle." "You mean weight?" "Yeah." "Idk dude, decide for yourself." "I need a goal. Set it for me." I sighed. "Uhh, let's say 20 lbs." "That it?" "Don't underestimate how hard it is to gain muscle." "Don't underestimate how bad I want that dick." "Fine make it 50lbs." Then more silence. An hour goes by. Another message. This time a video. "What the fuck," I think. I figured it'd be some dirty and vulgar video, but it was surprisingly something else. The video started with him pointing his phone at his bathroom mirror at his thin, shapeless body. He's shirtless, wearing only cotton shorts, and he points the camera down at a digital scale. The number reads 102. And then the video ends. And then a text message. "Just showing you my starting point. Made it a video so you know I ain't lying." "Ok" was all I could think of to respond with. Still didn't believe for a second he'd actually do anything. I expected he'd be back to his old self in a day or two, messaging me nonstop begging to let him suck me off. "Ok?" he responded after several minutes. "Yeah." "Don't you wanna see me gain muscle?" "Ngl dude I don't think you'll do shit. I'll be surprised as hell if you do, but most dudes who wanna workout don't realize the amount of pain and effort that goes into it and quit within a month. If that." "We'll see." And then he shut up. He didn't say another word. I expected more pestering about letting him suck my dick, promising he'd be bigger soon or some shit, but he said nothing. A week goes by. I still check Grindr and reject the usual dudes who think I'll go for some geriatric action or some other gross shit. But the skinny twink's tile continues to show up. Which, of course, isn't surprising. What was surprising was the silence. Not one word from him. But then he surprised me a bit. His tile was always blank. Like he was one of those "DL" guys who doesn't wanna be seen. But one day a little over a week later his tile was suddenly a decent face picture. "Huh," I thought to myself. "That's weird." I, of course, can never help myself. I open the Grindr app all the time to check to see who's around. I never know when I might encounter someone new who's interesting or maybe even muscled that may actually wanna meet up. But skinny twink is always there. Always on the app. His tile stays right there at the top every time I open it. Another week goes by and his tile remains the same. His new profile picture still throws me off. I can't understand why he was always blank and then suddenly he has an actual photo of himself. Just a simple image of his face, a cute smile. Nothing too cheesy, of course. Just like a school picture or something. But still, he hasn't said a word to me. I found myself half-tempted to actually open his profile and read if he changed anything there. But the app has that new feature that lets people know when you've viewed their profile. I didn't want to open the flood gates. But then there was a new picture. A different picture. It still showed his face. But he wasn't smiling. I mean, it wasn't like he was scowling or anything. But it was definitely an expression upon his face that was more confident. And what's more, it was a little farther away from his face, showing his neck a bit more. And, in the photo, it was clear he was shirtless. Still could only see him mostly from the neck up, but it was clear there was no shirt worn while the photo was taken. Now, this may not seem like an abnormal thing. "So what?" you may be asking. Well, I just recall a more thin appearance to his neck. Maybe I was imagining things. But his neck looked thicker. And, I also didn't even want to believe it, but his traps seemed to be... well, there. Again, might all be inside my head. Maybe the fact that my imagination was running a bit wild after our last conversation and my mind was playing tricks on me and I actually wanted him to workout and bulk up. Well, hell, I did actually want him to workout. I'd love to see a dude actually pick up weights and gain muscle thanks to me in some way. Just... never thought it'd have been in this particular way. But his relentless pestering has always made me want to dislike him. But I couldn't allow myself to get all excited over what will likely amount to nothing. Maybe he was working out. But he'll still be the same skinny twink in the end. Even if he does gain a little weight. I mean, come on. Twinks never really get thick with muscle anyway. What was I even thinking?? I was surely imagining things, anyway. Why was I thinking about this dude so much? I closed the app and moved on to something else I needed to focus on. As it would happen, I didn't actually bother to open the app again for a few days. Work was consuming a lot of my time and even though I'd often be horny, it's not like looking at the app ever amounted to anything anyway, so I would just look at my usual muscle porn, jerk off, and call it a night. By the time I actually did decide to look at Grindr again, it was maybe four days later. The tiles loaded up on the screen of my phone and, of course, it was the usual faces to which I'd grown accustomed after all this time. This area didn't change much. But skinny twink wasn't there. I was surprised. I guess maybe he hadn't been on the app in a while, either. I sometimes had to wonder to myself why I even bothered with Grindr. It's not like I ever really found anyone worth a damn. I was constantly disappointed, and what few dudes I'd actually talked to who I wanted would ghost me. But, I'd still always log on and check it out. But then he reappeared at the top of my list. And this time it was one hell of a new profile picture. I honestly didn't even know it was him at first. I just saw the pic and said to myself "wow"... because the picture was of a flexed arm. A biceps that had to be the size of a tennis ball flexed into a perfect shape, which is of course something that caught my eye immediately. I touched the tile and got a closer look of the sexy arm, and when I swiped the photo to get another image, I saw his face. At first I thought I'd accidentally swiped too hard and I switched to the next profile, but in seconds I felt my heart thud in my chest as I realized it was the same dude, same profile. Skinny Twink. "No fuckin' way," I said aloud to myself. He had to be stealing that photo and trying to pass it off as his own. But the next image he had on his profile dispelled any doubt. He was mugging for the camera, flexed biceps into hardness, and even the top portion of his now developed pecs were in the image. He had a slight cleft between his chest muscles. "Holy fuck," I said aloud to myself. And then I heard the Grindr alert noise that I received a message. And it was from him. Of course it was from him. He got the notification that his profile had a new view. And it was from me. So, no hiding the fact that I've seen his new muscular development. "Want head?" was what his message said. Of course it did. Even with his new muscles he was still the same guy. I didn't respond. I mean, how could I? What would I even say? I didn't want to gush over his new development. I didn't want to come off as too eager. And I hated myself for now being entirely attracted to him. I DID want head. And I wanted to feel his new muscles the entire time. He wasn't huge or anything, based on the photos he has publicly viewable. But his new muscles were tight and sexy. And, I suspected he'd probably continue growing. I felt my cock throb in my shorts. But then he sent another message. "Told ya I wanted that dick. Like what you see?" He baited me. And I took the bait. "You got good at photoshop, huh?" I said. Immediately he hit back with "Lol!" And then a few minutes went by. I put my phone down thinking he'd say nothing else, but then he came back with "How's this?" and seconds later an image came through. And my dick spurted some pre right into my shorts. He was flexing his arm again, this time with a shirt on, but his bicep was bulging up into the sleeve with no space. He made sure his face was in the image as well, and he was smirking. A new thing for him. He'd smile in his pics, but never smirk. This was a look of confidence. "Just took that one" he said. Trying to remain in control, I replied with "How much?" "How much what?" "How much weight you gain?" I asked. And this time many moments went by. I thought he was trying to come up with some plausible number for me to believe since I was still suspicious of whether or not he was being for real. But then the Grindr alert for a new message came through, and it was a video. I eagerly played it. It was very much like the first one he ever sent me. He was standing in the bathroom in front of his mirror, shirtless, and only cotton shorts on. But the similarities ended there. His shoulders were rounded, broader, and his chest was pushing out when before it was completely flat, almost sunken. And he had fucking abs now. Abs! Nothing crazy, barely a 4-pack, but still, abs! And his arm hanging at his side as he held his phone was taut and had the clear appearance of a worked-out arm. His forearm was clearly thicker, and his bicep was bulging even in a relaxed state. And it was just a brief image as he smirked still for the camera right before looking down at the same scale as before. The digital number read 124. Before I could even respond to the video, he sent another message. "22!" I couldn't help myself and I replied with "Jesus". "Can I suck you off now?" he asked. "I thought your goal was 50." "Dude I'll get to 50 and probably more. But you initially said 20. I beat that. I wanna suck that big cock." And my cock was oozing pre into my shorts just at the idea of being able to touch his new body. I felt myself acquiescing. It wasn't quite registering with me that he grew this much in only a month. But I didn't care. "Fine come suck my dick but if you wanna be sure I'm hard and throbbing you gotta show off those muscles for me" "Dude it's literally the whole reason I started working out" and then "What's your address?" I stared at my phone, marveling at the fact I finally did it. I finally got a dude to workout and gain muscle. And it was, according to him, all for me. I couldn't believe it. "??" He was clearly impatient. And I forgot I needed to tell him where I lived. And I told him my address right away. I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a certain element of whiplash. I went from rejecting this dude whole-heartedly to wanting him in an instant. And not just to suck my cock. And it was a true testament, for me, that muscles truly are the driving force behind my sexuality. Like, yeah, I liked dudes. But my cock only truly responded to muscles. I paced my place, suddenly nervous about the idea of meeting this dude. And, there was still a part of me that believed he was putting on a good and convincing act. I still partially expected to see the same skinny twink when I opened my door. And I wasn't sure exactly how I'd react if that were the case, but if it was, I was hoping I could withhold my tongue well enough to simply slam the door in his face. But then there was a knock on my door. My heart pounded in my chest. I opened the door, and there he was. He was shorter than I expected him to be, but I shouldn't have been surprised. He was fully clothed, and I didn't know if he wasn't quite used to the idea of having muscle on his frame or if he intentionally did it, but he was fully clothed and it wasn't in the type of clothing a gym-rat wears. Most dudes, when their bodies are burgeoning muscle, seek to show it off in any way possible. I would have expected a sleeveless shirt or something, but he was wearing nerd clothes. A stupid too-large t-shirt with one of the billion Call of Duty logos across the top front. And plain gray joggers with black accents around the quad area. His dirty blonde hair was a bit disheveled but that's how it always looked, even before. But, in spite of this, it was still clear he'd put on muscle. His chest was pushing out on that Call of Duty logo. His developing traps were pushing out of his neck a bit, which actually was made obvious thanks to the oversized shirt having a larger neck hole. And, I wasn't too sure on this, but either his quads were thick and wrapped nicely by those joggers, or it was just an affect of the joggers themselves. Hard to say these days with the trendy pants dudes have been wearing lately. And as he stood there, he had this slight grin on his face, and he gave a little wave in greeting, raising his arm and causing his forearm muscles to writhe a bit. "Can I... come in?" he asked. I didn't say anything I just stepped aside. He stepped past me and entered my home, and as I shut the door I turned around to look at him and he'd already made his way into the living room. "Can you... take off your shoes, please?" I asked. "Oh yeah of course dude," he said, and removed his shoes and placed them by the door where I was still standing, brushing past me as he did so. Looking at his form, knowing what was waiting under those clothes, I knew I should be getting hard, but my nervousness was keeping my cock at bay. I moved towards my sofa to sit down, hopefully to encourage him to do the same. I like to ease into these things. I didn't want to just drop my pants. But as I stepped forward, I felt a hand around my arm and he spun me around. I looked down at his face and he was slightly smiling. "Don't keep me waiting," he said, and immediately reached down and palmed my crotch through my pants. I felt a twitch in my cock from his touch. "Uh, whoa," I said, pushing against his chest with my hand, trying to get him to back off a bit. There was definitely muscle in that chest, too. I felt my cock stir further. And he did. Back off, I mean. He stepped back, and I saw his hands clench into fists a few times, making his forearms bunch. "You said I could suck you!" he practically whined. I couldn't help but grin at that. "Yeah, but slow down a bit man. I also said something else, too. Remember?" "Ohh yeah," he said, grinning back at me. And with that, he didn't even waste a moment. He pulled back the sleeve on his right arm and flexed his bicep, triumphantly raising it in the air for me to see. And holy fuck was it beautiful up close. That tennis ball bicep bulged up into hardness, and I felt my mouth drop open. "Holy shit," I said aloud, not entirely meaning to. "Yeah," he simply said, still with a grin. My cock was swelling within my shorts as I gazed upon his newly built muscle. "How about this?" he asked and flexed his other arm, now in a double bicep pose. He didn't pull the sleeve back on this one but his bicep bulged up into the sleeve, almost completely filling the empty space. "H-how?" I stuttered, feeling my cock throbbing into full hardness. "How what?" he asked, cocking his head, lowering his biceps a bit, but still keeping them half-flexed in the air. "How did you gain this much so quickly?" "Oh!" he responded, lowering his arms completely to his sides. The sleeve on the right arm didn't quite lower all the way and his arm remained mostly exposed, and it bulged nicely at his side. "I, uh, started working out right away after I showed you that first weigh-in. I did everything I could to gain muscle. I eat, like, eight-thousand calories a day, most of it protein foods." I stood there, mouth agape, as he told me how it happened. "I really want to suck your cock. Like, really want to suck it. If building my body is what it takes, then I'll do it." "Looks like you already did it," I muttered. He grinned. "Nah, I'm just getting started. Remember? Fifty pounds was the goal." I felt myself panting. He'd gone from an annoying twiggy pest to this sexy gym-rat who was only going to get hotter if he kept going the way he's been going. And hearing him say what he'd just said was... well, sexy as fuck. "But, uh--" I found myself struggling a bit to find words, "--Don't you like being on the, uh, skinny side?" He grinned. "I did. I definitely did. I never wanted to do this. I'm a twink! But, now--" he paused, and raised his arm and flexed that impressive bicep, "--I'm growing. And it feels amazing. I felt my cock throb. Hard. Usually I have control over my cock, but it throbbed super hard and sent shivers throughout my body. I'd always had little half-baked fantasies about things like this, where I would have a dude workout and get big for me and I'd get to reap the benefits. I just never thought it would become reality. And certainly not this guy. "Looks like I've awakened the beast," he said, smirking that new confident smirk, eyeing my now completely hard dick's bulge protruding from the front of my pants. "Fuck," I said, not really meaning to. It was my generic response to a situation that got my dick super hard. He closed what gap there was between us and stood almost nose to nose with me. He almost looked hesitant, but I suspected he was waiting to see if I pushed him away again. I didn't. His hand reached for my crotch and palmed the hard appendage that was writhing within my pants. His fingers ran themselves over me, caressing the bulge. It sent shivers up my spine. He lifted his other arm and flexed his bicep again, that hot tennis ball bulging up against his sleeve. The sight made me shudder. And my cock throbbed again. And suddenly he dropped to his knees. His eyes looked up into mine, and his fingers began undoing my pants. He almost had a submissive expression on his face, and maybe it was entirely submissive. As a skinny twink he was probably used to being in a submissive role. I wasn't interested in domination in any way. And with his burgeoning physique he'd probably find himself in far less situations where he would be playing a submissive role. My cock was leaking pre into my pants in anticipation. I felt the wetness. I was quite the leaker. I could literally feel when my cock would spurt pre, and it was happening a lot. And suddenly I felt my pants dropped, and my cock bounced out, springing up and flinging some pre across his face. It landed on his nose, lips, and across his cheek. He didn't recoil, though. He had a hungry expression on his face and used his tongue to lick up what it could reach. "Fuck, you taste good," he muttered. "Mmm" I grunted, completely unable to think of any words to say. My body was almost in a catatonic state. I felt my breathing becoming heavy. I was so aroused. "Here we go," he said, and his eyes hungrily averted their gaze onto my throbbing member. And he suddenly went into attack mode. He started licking my cock, I guess as a sort of appetizer. I was already shocked at how good it felt. He was running his tongue all over, and my favorite moments were when his tongue would run over the underside of my dick. "Mmmm" he would moan a little from time to time, enjoying himself. And then without warning he popped the head of my cock into his mouth and sucked. "Oh god," I breathed. "Mmm" he grunted, and I could tell he was smiling. And then he did what I should have been waiting for. I mean, I guess I definitely was waiting for it, but I'd been so enthralled by his licking to this point I let it slip my mind. He flexed. He was kneeling before me, my cock at least partially in his mouth, and he flexed both his arms into a double-biceps. "Ohhh god," I moaned, barely able to contain myself as I watched his tennis ball biceps mound up. I felt my cock throb and pulse as he sucked on just the head. I really hope he didn't doubt me when I said muscles turned me on, but if there ever was any doubt, I'm sure it's gone, now. He was able to hold his flex, his biceps hard balls of muscle, while simultaneously sucking on the head of my dick. "Mmm" he grunted and moaned again. But then he let my entire cock slip into his mouth. He swiftly let it slide all the way, and I felt his throat open as the head entered his actual throat, the size too big for just his mouth. And he kept his arms flexed. Here this dude was, flexing his arms and deepthroating my cock. I'd have been lying if I said I wasn't impressed, but I wasn't able to focus on his skills. All I could see were two sexy fucking biceps as my cock was experiencing pleasures I never knew possible. He was bobbing his head know, throat-fucking my big dick. I felt myself bucking my hips in time with his head-bobbing. I could feel a climax coming, sooner than I'd have thought. "Mmmf" he moaned again, and I was almost certain he knew I would climax soon. And, he didn't slow down. In fact, he took his hands and pulled the sleeves back on both arms and flexed again, his biceps on complete display. His delts were now in sight, too, which had also clearly grown. I definitely had to give this dude an 'A' for effort. He tailored this blowjob for me. And the sight of his exposed bulging muscles sent me over the edge. I felt the explosion welling up. And explode, I did. I bucked my hips wildly, the sensation of cum releasing from my balls into my shaft so intense I almost felt my legs give out. But he could somehow sense this. His arms dropped and he reached both hands to the backs of my legs and squeezed. He was holding me steady as his mouth continued to suck, waiting for the deluge of cum. And I felt it happen. The first explosion. It must've hit his throat hard, because he immediately gagged. And he'd been able to keep from gagging to this point. But he didn't let up or release a single centimeter of my dick. He sucked down every drop. And the next shot came and shot into his throat, as he eagerly swallowed that one as well. "MmMmmmM" he moaned, swallowing every drop of cum I shot. Not a single drop escaped his mouth. I must have shot a good 5 or 6 times, each one as voluminous as the last. I felt myself breathing heavily but shallow, almost like I couldn't catch my breath. Like I'd run a marathon or something, and yet I didn't move from this spot. My orgasm was still subsiding, even though I was no longer shooting. He continued suckling at my cock, coaxing what few drops out that were left. I wanted to collapse onto my sofa, but his hands were lingering on the backs of my legs, squeezing them. When I felt my cock finally beginning to soften, I said "Dude that was probably the most intense orgasm I'd ever experienced." I felt his mouth give one last good suck, before he finally let my dick pop out of his mouth. My dick bounced a little as it continued to deflate. He smirked that confident smirk. "Told you you didn't know what this mouth could do." I almost got frustrated with him as he once again seemed to miss what it was my cock responded to. Yeah, he had a skilled mouth, for sure, but it was his muscles that did the job. "Dude," I said, still somewhat breathlessly, "You got a skilled mouth, yeah, but I'm tellin' ya, it was those hot biceps that did the job." "Oh you mean these?" he asked and flexed his arms again, still in that kneeling position in front of me. His sleeves were still pulled all the way back and now with a more clear mind I was seeing them in a somewhat different light. More clearly. They were sexy fucking arms. Like, really sexy. He had beautifully sculpted arms with veins in all the right places. "Y-yeah," I felt and heard myself stutter. He stood up, but didn't stand back or anything. "Whoa," he said, and it looked like he was about to lose his balance. I reflexively reached out and my arms wrapped around his back, holding him in place so he didn't fall. My arms made contact with a hard, tight body, and he allowed himself to be pulled into me. His torso pressed against me, and I could feel his pecs pressing into my body. It felt amazing. I looked into his face and he had this grin. And suddenly his arms went around my body and he kissed me. I was shocked and my first instinct was to push him away, but I suppressed it, suddenly wanting his lips on mine. We kissed for a few seconds, my hands roaming the expanse of his back through his shirt, and I could feel individual muscles. But then he suddenly pulled his face away, still grinning. "I can feel it," he said. "Huh?" I grunted, not even sure if I heard him right. "Feel what?" I asked, but suddenly realized he may have meant my cock which was hardening again, pressed against his body. "Oh yeah, I guess feeling your muscles against me is making me hard again," I chuckled. "No, man." He pushed me away, this time. Not hard or anything; just enough to get about a foot of space between us. But then he looked down at my rising cock and chuckled. "Well, yeah, that, but not that." I cocked my head, furrowing my brow at him. I was entirely confused at this point. "God your cock is hot," he said, eyeing my cock again. But he shook his head as though he was trying to break out of some sort of reverie. "But no, what I feel is your cum." "Oh really?" I chuckled a little. "Was it a lot?" "Fuck yeah it was a lot, but it's not what I mean." His breathing was getting shallow. "Oooof, yeah, I can definitely feel it." "Okay dude, you're starting to get weird on me." "Am I?" he asked, and once again flexed his arms. One of his sleeves fell down but the other was pulled back still. His biceps exploded into size and were once again making my cock throb. One was exposed to the air and I could see a prominent vein running across the peak. The other was wrapped in the sleeve and pressing against the cloth like a second skin. "Fuck your arms are hot," I breathed, yet again taken aback by how sexy his muscles were. He dropped his arms. "You still haven't noticed yet?" "Noticed what?" I asked, my mind clouded a bit by my once again completely hard cock. But then I did notice it. His chest. It was pushing out of that shirt way more than it was when he arrived. And I knew it wasn't just my imagination because I remember specifically how it looked based on the logo on the shirt. His chest had grown. In the span of less than an hour. "Oh fuck," I said, and then "How are-- How is--- What's happ--" "I'm growing, dude." My dick was still exposed to the air, my pants around my ankles. And it was harder than ever, throbbing wildly as I stood there looking at this former twink. He was still twink-ish when he arrived, but that was becoming a thing of the past. Right in front of me. "H-How?" "All I needed was your cum. Now--ungn--it's time for me to--oh god--get huge." And in that instant, he suddenly grew about an inch in height. He was only about a foot away from me, and I was looking down at him a little, but my eyes were suddenly looking more directly forward. "Fuck yes," he breathed, and then "Ohhh god" and he shot up another inch. His shirt tightened around his chest even further. "Fuck!" I said, not even meaning to. My cock was pulsing and throbbing at this sight before me. "Yeah, watch me grow," he said, and flexed his arms. They both exploded into baseballs, the sleeve tightening to painted-on status on the one arm the sleeve was still covering. The other arm was too big now for the sleeve to even naturally fall on its own. "Grrr" he literally growled as he held his flexed arms, visibly shaking as he was clearly flexing as hard as he could. And I saw his face light up as his arms simultaneously pulsed bigger as we both watched them. "Holy fuck," I whispered. "Yeah, you ready?" he asked. "Ready for wha--" I got out before he swiftly extended both arms and then flexed them again. This time they once again grew bigger, and the sleeve covering his one arm busted open in a loud POP as the threads all snapped. "FUCK yeah!" he shouted, continuing to flex and unflex his biceps. And then he lowered his arms and rolled his shoulders back a bit so his chest was more prominently visible, and what a chest it had become. His cliché Call of Duty logo was stretched across bigger pecs, much bigger than when he walked in. He looked down at his own chest and I watched as he bounced each side individually, seemingly to a tune only he could hear. And then he bounced them both at the same time, really making the front of the shirt jump, with one sleeve bunched up still between his biceps and delt, and the other sleeve hanging like a rag from his other arm. "Oooo yeahhh UNNGH," he practically moaned, and I watched his chest bulge outward in one short burst, like it was waiting for the perfect moment to grow bigger. RRRRRIP his shirt tore down the center as he flexed his newly grown pecs, and a beautiful cleft was visible now. "OH! OHH!" he gasped, and he shot up another several inches in height. I was looking up at him now, my head forced to tilt backwards. And suddenly I was overly aware my cock was standing straight up and out, throbbing intensely with greater vascularity than I've ever seen in my entire life, oozing pre onto my carpet. And there have been plenty of moments in my past when I thought I was turned on and harder than ever before. This, by far, topped any previous moment. I was... afraid? I guess? To even move. Like, if I moved, this entire fantasy playing out in front of me would dissipate and I'd wake up in my bed. His shirt was laughable, at this point, as it was basically a big rag hanging off of him. He rolled his shoulders again, and more rips could be heard as he deliberately pulled it as tight as he could across his back. His lats were wider. "I guess I don't need this anymore," he said, smirking, and took one hand and pulled his shirt off his body in one fluid motion, tearing it apart in the process. He tossed the now useless rag it had become across the room, his biceps bulging impressively as he did so. "Fuck--unnngg--look at me! I love this!" he shouted, flexing his arms triumphantly high in the air. His joggers had ridden up his legs thanks to his increased height. They were only covering down to just below his knees, and the elastic cuffs were stretched really tight around his now-bulging calves. I never got a real look at his legs before now, but I imagine they were skinny stick legs like many twinks have. The kind that had zero muscle tone and you'd wonder how the dude even walked on his own without help. But his calves now were clearly muscular. You know how you can see the calf muscle on an athlete's leg even from the front? That's what his looked like now. And they were twitching and swelling bigger as he stood in front of me. But that certainly wasn't all I could see. Because as I allowed my eyes to finally drift away from his calves, I could finally take a moment to realize his joggers were now wrapped tight around his upper legs, as well. His quads were getting bigger and bigger, clearly, as the cloth was unable to hide any longer the fact there was muscle beneath it. The individual heads of his quads were even visible through the cloth. "I see--nng--you've noticed my--uungh--legs," he said, grunting as he continued to swell before me. "I really liked these--ughh--joggers," he said, and I had the privilege of seeing him flex his legs and hearing RRIIPPP as his joggers tore up the sides, his muscular flesh swiftly becoming exposed to the air. "OH, OH FUCK," I gasped, as my cock exploded cum in a torrent, ropes of my juice shooting out across from me. My body shuddered as I shot blast after blast, before finally subsiding after, I think, 5 shots. "Holy shit," I rasped, breathless. I just came without even touching myself. I opened my eyes, not even realizing I'd closed them, to notice some of my cum landed on his abs. "Shit dude, did you just blow a load without even touching your cock?" he asked, looking down at his own abs and the globs of cum that had landed on him. "Man you really are a muscle fag." "Uhh, I... I think so..." I barely got out. And then "Wait, w-what?" "Well I guess I--oh god--shouldn't let any of it go to waste," he grunted, ignoring my "what," his abs clenching and defining themselves as he spoke. I gasped as I watched him take his fingers, his vascular forearms twitching has he brought his hand down to his abs and scooping up as much as he could and bringing it back to his face, sliding his tongue across his hand, eagerly swallowing up as much as he could. "Mmmm" he moaned, "You really do taste fucking good." I could only just stand there, as realization set in that he just ingested more of what made him start growing into this... beast before me. "A-are you g-gonna... get even b-bigger from that?" He grinned. "I'm not even done growing from the first load." He flexed his arms again to accentuate his point. His arms pulsed and grew even bigger as he did. "AHH" he gasped, as once again his height shot up another couple of inches, his joggers ripping even further. "Oof," he grunted, "There it is. I can--unghh--feel it charging me up again." "Every second--uff--that goes by I think to myself 'that's gotta be it, there can't be more,' and then--unggh--I get even bigger!" "Oh fuck," I whispered, feeling helpless as this former twink continued his transformation into a... well, a god. Looking at his biceps now, my body shivered. They had grown huge. They were bigger than softballs now, and still growing. His height continued to increase to accommodate more muscle on his frame. "Mmmffuck yeah," he muttered, in awe of his own flexed biceps as he looked, almost lovingly, from one to the other. "This power..." he muttered, and trailed off. He lowered his arms and then arched them out at his sides, like he was about to flex into a most-muscular pose, but stopped short. "Ohhh this power welling--ughh--up inside of me!" and I watched in absolute awe as he suddenly surged bigger. His whole body exploded with size in an instant, and what remained of his joggers exploded off his legs and the soft cloth fluttered to the floor. "Ohmigod" I heard myself say. As the rags that were once his joggers fell to the floor, the former twink was now completely nude, and I watched as a gigantic semi-hard cock flopped out from its confines. I don't know how I hadn't noticed it until now; maybe it was the fact he was transforming into a muscle god before my eyes, but his cock was now bigger soft (or at least semi-soft) than mine is fully hard. And I noticed I was once again completely full throbbing hard. He now towered over me. He was easily at least 6'7", maybe taller. He held his arms arched at his sides, and he almost... glowered at me, but his mouth was upturned enough it was still a smirk. "Still... grrrrr" he growled, and suddenly he flexed into an actual most-muscular, his muscles exploding into stark relief, veins snaking all over his body. His cock was swelling bigger, pulsing, hardening, and standing out and rising. "RRRR Still... Grrrowwwwwiiiinggg" he moaned, and continued to swell in front of me. His biceps and pecs were literally throbbing, increasing in size with each throb as his heart pumped blood through his engorged veins. His head was rising up as he grew taller, and his shoulders were spreading even farther apart as hard, striated muscle wove into tight boulders on each side of his head, attached to rising traps that surrounded a strong, thick bull neck. I felt my cock throbbing hard and I could actually feel yet another ejaculation brewing at the base of my crotch. The feeling was intensifying as my wildest fantasy was coming true before my eyes. But I somehow felt a pressing need to keep myself from blowing yet another load; some sort of sixth sense was telling me I needed to keep him from growing any bigger than he was going to get. "Yesssss..." he breathed, his voicing dropping an octave. "God fucking damn..." I muttered. His growth finally seemed to come to a stop as his head brushed up against the ceiling. I could actually hear it happen when it made contact. And, based on his attitude, I don't think he'd have made any effort not to bust right through the ceiling had he grown any bigger. "Fuck yessss..." he rumbled, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily. He launched into a mind shattering double-biceps, and the Cheshire Cat grin that formed on his face was so menacing I almost wanted to run out my front door. "Is this what you like?" he asked, shifting into an impressive side-chest pose. The fluidity of his pose was confusing to me. It's like he'd been practicing bodybuilding poses. His cock was huge, jutting out from his body like... well, cliché as it sounds, a third fucking leg. But, speaking of legs, his actual legs were tree trunks. Giant, decades old Oak tree trunks. I nodded. I couldn't find words. "I think I met my goal of 50 pounds, huh?" he rumbled. I nodded again. "Can I suck you off again?" he asked, finally relaxing his huge muscles and standing relaxed in front of me. He reminded me of The Hulk, just not green. And still with the face of a twink. I didn't know how to respond to his question. Was he actually asking? I wasn't sure I wanted him any bigger. Not in my home, anyway. But, before I could even think of a response, he said "Wait. What am I doing?" and he dramatically raised his hand to his forehead and slapped it with the palm of his hand. "I don't need your permission any longer. I can literally take it by force. Think you could stop me?" he asked, and flexed his impressive mountain of a vascular bicep right in my face. "Uhh..." I made a sound. I had no response. I felt like I didn't want to poke the bear and I couldn't tell if he was being funny. And that was somehow scarier than actually knowing he wasn't joking. "Am I still a twig? Huh? Was I so unworthy of your time when I was just a twig?" he growled. Suddenly his bigger hands were grasping my upper arms. I yelped as I realized he wasn't joking around. And suddenly my feet were dangling in the air as he held me up with no effort, my pants left in a puddle on the floor, my hard cock still leaking pre as it stuck right out from my body, still steel hard. "I'll suck you off when I'm ready, bro. But I wanna test this new dynamic out." Surprisingly, he let me down gently. "Wh-wh-wha--" I stuttered. "Shut the fuck up." Suddenly there was immense weight on my shoulders as I felt him pressing down on them with the palms of his hands. He let one hand off me and wrapped his fingers around his newly giant member. "You'd better get used to sucking dick. I know it ain't your thing, but, I don't care. Open wide." He was so tall now, I didn't even need to get on my knees.
  4. KenAustin

    Muscle worship - Ken Austin - Jeff

    Hi, My name is Ken Austin (Instagram: ken_austin_fitness). I am a young jock guy into fitness and have very healthy lifestyle. Bodybuilding is my passion, but I am only interested of building a perfect body the natural way. I talked with a lot of worshiper in my life. I met Jeff by Instagram. we talked a lot during those few days of Coronavirus. We life far away but we want to meet one day to realise our muscle worship fantasies. Today’s story will be a fantasy that I imagined with him. Jeff is sitting in the living room. I joined him on the coach with a bowl of fruit, oat, and protein. I am wearing my pyjamas, a tank top as usual. I always needs to see my arms and my beautiful chest that I work hard on it. He is looking at me and say, Jeff: “We just had diner, why are you still eating”. Instantly, I flex my left arms to show him my biceps and add Ken: “To build bigger arms like this”. Jeff was always excited to watch me flexing and showing off. He gave me a look of excitement. I put the fruit bow on the table and gave him a double bicep flex. Instantly he starts putting his hands on both of my biceps and start caressing them. I gave him my superman biceps flex; I am flexing my right biceps and my left arms is pointing on the air. Jeff was touching me; we were both getting very excited. Ken: “Let’s go into the posing room” Jeff: “fuck yeah, you mad me horny” We go into the posing room. There is a 2 big mirror, side by side and very warm lights to be able to pose and show every muscle in their best advantage. Ken: “Sit there, behind the mirror and let’s practice my poses” Jeff love watching me striping and posing. I am purely exhibitionist and have this needs to show off a lot, sometimes too much. Too much would be like last time we went at the restaurant and I was bouncing my pecs to turn him on and check his hard on under the table with my foot. Let us go back to the story. I slowly start getting rid of my tank top and my pant. Once I am naked, I am dressing up with the poser. We both love to watch me posing with my poser like a real bodybuilder. I start oiling my self. Usually jeff love to oil me while I am flexing but today, I want him to watch first. I oil up all my body with a LOT of coconut oil as I like. Jeff is obviously getting excited and cannot stop looking at me. He have a major hard on in his pants. Same for me in my poser but I want to stay focus. I start posing, double biceps front, from the back, most muscular, side chest, etc. Jeff always correct my pose. We both wants me to show my muscles in their best advantage. We are both very horny right now. I workout my chest today while he was at work and I workout very hard as always to get worship. Muscle Worship is like candy for me. As always, I really need to be worshipped. I got rid of the poser. I place myself just in front of Jeff. Ken: “get on your knee and start worshipping my chest!” Jeff quickly executes. He starts caressing my chest slowly and sensually. I can see my big chest all pumped from posing getting worship. The sensation of the oil on my chest and those hands moving always drive me insane. I am slowly jerking off, edging. Ken: “Come on boy, you like my big pecs? Worship it! They are so perfect, right?” Jeff: “they are the best pecs I have ever touch, they are my muscles, they are my everything” Ken:” come on worship me, I am half-human, half-god, am I right? I deserve it!” Jeff: “you are my god, you are my everything, your pecs have all power over me. I need your big muscles for coming. Without them I cannot cum for real” I always been into this verbal muscle thing. Love to talk about my own muscles and being dominant. I am edging and I am getting very close. Ken: “Fuck my pecs are so fucking pump and big right now, keeps rubbing them, keeps rubbing my big fucking jock pecs, fucks I’m cumin!” I come watching my whole body all oil up, my beautiful face and my pecs with 2 small hands compare to my chest rubbing it. Right after I finished coming, Jeff let his dick out of his pants, start jerking off. I bend over and put my chest right on his face. He instantly come and I felt his come splashing on my body. I kiss his face all oil up. Ken:” tomorrow it’s an arm day”
  5. flexyourpecs

    Self Reflection

    It had been chest day, at the new little gym I’d recently discovered in the downtown district. It was tiny for a cooperate gym, and even at 6PM on a Wednesday, the rush hour crowd was more than manageable. It was a more casual crowd - yoga moms and office guys, sparsely occupying the space, and that made it much easier to move around freely, and more importantly, really dive into my workout. For quite some time now, building my mind-muscle connection has been a main focus of mine, something I constantly try to improve on. Making sure my form is on point, preventing any injury and simultaneously trying to exert maximum power, tension, and control over the muscle group I’m working. Flexing before the set, throughout, and during rest, always keeping a bit of tension. Always flexed, and at the peak, flexed as hard as possible. Like a bright red string you have to try to hold on to, a direct link between your brain and the target muscle in a gray space - or at least that’s how I started seeing it recently. It’s a strange process that’s constantly evolving, constantly adjusting and correcting with one goal in mind - push that fucking weight so fucking good you fucking GROW. Breath by breath that’s how my working went, constantly focused on the most efficient way to make my muscles really fucking pop. Today was one of those occasions where I came in wearing a hoodie, with a tank top underneath. I do this because I love keeping the hoodie on until right before my last three sets because I fucking love the moment when I take it off and see myself in the mirror, finally checking out my pump. It’s the best feeling. I work harder wearing that hoodie, knowing the harder I work the better the prize at the end. I hadn’t been looking at myself much lately though, not for a few weeks. A wrist injury limited me to leg workouts only for about a month, early in my first bulk with my new bodybuilding coach. I was feeling flabby and disappointed, like all I’d accomplished was ruining what I had built in those nine months I had spent cutting, trying to tighten up my body as much as possible, slowly making it hard and hungry to grow with as much rock hard mass as possible. Like I’d wasted the new stuff my coach had put me on. SARMS - it was my first time, and I trust my Coach, so I was looking forward to some serious results. It was my second week doing upper body in the gym, and fucking loved what I saw when I took off my hoodie before doing some lateral raises (it’s a fucking hot move to pump up with). I looked beastly. Atleast that was the first thing I noticed. There was an obvious bulge to my traps - sloping, thick, leading into round, broad delts hugging two pumped up, beautifully curved, thick slabs of muscle, and I took it all in hungrily as I watched myself work towards my goal, finally seeing the goal becoming a reality, seeing a new shape. Admittedly, I had been feeling thicker already - more angular I kept thinking, whatever that meant. Definitely shapelier. Stronger. It felt hot, and it was fucking hot to see it. The other day, I’d noticed I was increasingly hornier, and realized it was because of my legs. The time I focused on them had paid off, and they felt thicker than everything else, so different every time my hand brushed any part of my thigh - it felt like muscle. Big muscle. Bodybuilder muscle. I was growing. Even my calves were starting to get some nice size and shape - I’d been pushing them hard in an effort to bring them up in my pursuit of being hugely muscled all over. I finished coach’s workout and decided to find a couple more exercises - wanted a couple really good pump sets before the Grand Prize, the moment immediately after when I would head to the bathroom and fucking FLEX and check out that fucking pump. And fuck, it did not disappoint, I could not believe what I saw. I was alone in a tiny bathroom (urinal, stall, two sinks), with the mirror right across from the door, shamelessly grunting as I pushed to flex harder, recording myself in the mirror as I tried to capture the pump. Normally I’d be a little anxious about someone coming in and ‘catching’ me at my most frenzied state of muscle mania, but fuck it. It looked good. I was growing. That meant it was only going to look better. I was starving at this point. My busy schedule had me behind a meal, and I was spent after that lift and flex session. My body was hungry. My muscles were hungry. I need to feed and grow. That was all I could think about in the unexpected 8PM traffic, my mind completely focused on making sure I grow. So I get home and put into act the meal I planned in traffic. I liked to play with my diet, making substitutions to my Coach’s meal plan, adhering to the macros in the plan. I was juggling a few different things, moving about with purpose, focused on making the two meals I had decided to combine into one. I’d carefully put it together, checking out the nutrition info for everything, putting together the substitution. ¾ cup of Special K Cinnamon Brown Sugar Crunch and ¾ cup of Fairlife 2% milk (200 CAL, 26C, 4F,16G). I downed the cereal and poured the left over milk into my blender with 1.5 scoops of Whey Isolate, a bit of stevia, some ice, and 100 grams of strawberries (+197CAL, 9C, 1F, 38P = 397CAL, 36C, 5F, 54P). It got cold at that point so I switched into a t-shirt, noticing it felt different. I definitely filled it out more, and I could feel the fabric stretched across a landscape I knew was mostly growing bodybuilder muscle. My cock throbbed. For my last meal - 96/4 lean beef, rice pasta, green beans and decided to just take a minute to breathe during this meal, to consciously put down my phone and take a moment to just be with myself while I ate, letting my body relax and absorb the nutrients it needed to fuel the growth I’d commanded during that workout. Sitting there, enjoying that feeling and reflecting on everything I’d done in the last few hours, feeling the shape of my body, my awareness of every bulge intensified by the stretch of the fabric, I realized something. I was a bodybuilder. I couldn’t believe it. Looking back at my day, I realized how much I fucking live and breathe it, how right it feels, how much I look forward to pushing higher and higher to keep pushing my physique to bigger and bigger growth. And that felt fucking good. I had completely redefined myself. I’d changed my identity, I was focused, and growth was coming, because I was a fucking bodybuilder. I was a diet obsessed, driven, dedicated, hungry bodybuilder. Man, I couldn’t fucking wait to finish my meal, pump up with some flexes, and fucking cum thinking about my growing, muscle god BODYBUILDER body.
  6. Guest

    Self worship: Pecs

    Hi guys. Here's another one of my self-worship series: time to flex pecs Hope you like it. ----------------------------------- 8:30 am: The clock alarm started buzzing like hell. Greg hardly tried to open his eyes to make sure it was time to wake up. "Aw, fuck..." He was still asleep, and the clock was still buzzing, so he raised his arm, reached the clock, letting his hand fall down onto the button, almost smashing it, and making it finally stop. He started building up his mind for the routine day: having a huge breakfast, then going to gym, have a shower, have his meal, go to work, eat again, rest a bit at home, then eat again before his second gym session of the dat, have his dinner, and then run like hell to lose every ounce of fat and keep his bodyfat as low as possible, then a second shower and sleep. That was his almost every day agenda, and what would have driven crazy to anyone, made him really happy, he just loved it. The only thing that bothered him was his work. He was an engineer, and he loved what he did, but fuck if he were a millionaire he could quit it and fully concentrate on building his body, his true devotion. But until then, he still needed the job. Or, maybe he could find a sponsor for building his body?... Naaah, he thought it a second time and discarded it. "What for? To feel obliged to be worshipped by a bad worshipper every day? No way" He remembered the previous night and regretted again for having accepted that date. He was horned as fuck, too horned, had worked out legs, and had a huge cum after giving himself a self-worship, but he needed more, so he accepted to meet Mark, "the best worshipper you would ever know", in his own words. "Fuck yourself Mark, you're a crap". The guy was only focused on Greg's biceps. He didn't really mind that, he loved to give himself single-muscle worship sessions, but the guy was sooooo fucking boring. The only thing that he wanted was to make Greg flex his biceps and kept them flexed, while he licked them and jacked off. No words, just "oh my god, oh my god, oh my god" like a mantra for 15 minutes, who seemed to Greg a whole day. He decided to end that shit, licked his own bicep for the guy, made him cum instantly and sent him home, promising himself not to make the same mistake again: "Greg, don't you EVER meet a worshipper when horned". The worst part of it is that he got so angry with himself that he lost his horniness and went to bed late, horned and with his balls full. And there he was in bed, sleepy as hell, angry again for his mistake, and with a long day ahead. "What do I have to workout today?... Aw yeahh, pecs!!!" That made him happy again, he loved working out pecs. They weren't their fav muscles but fuck, he had a special ability, or genetics, to have a HUGE pump who could last for days. "Ok, let's do some reps, maybe I will get fully awake with it". He got off from bed, got to the floor, kept in a perfect push up position, his 375lbs resting just on his hands and started repping: "1, 2, 3..." He could still feel the cramps from last pecs session, almost a week ago, but he loved that feeling. "21, 22, 23, ..." He started feeling the blood flowing through his pecs. "61, 62, 63, ..." Fuck now he started feeling horned again. "Come on Greg, focus on your pecs, not on your cock. 101, 102, 103..." Now, in the 100th rep, was when he felt their pecs pumped to the max, and the next ones were the ones that made him grow. "131, 132,...hell yeahhh". Now he was fully horned, he couldn't resist it, the feeling of the muscle growing with each rep was too much. He closed his eyes and visualized his pecs working in each rep: when down in the floor, fully extended, fibers freaky visible for havig his skin fully stretched, his insertions in the delts, then starting to raise up, his fibers contracting to pull the arms down and make his 375lbs raise. He could even visualize how the upper fibers started contracting at first, and then, when he was 15cm away from the floor, the upper fibers started working, contracting themselves and pushing him upper. He could even feel the burn of each muscle part and he fucking loved it. Then, when fully up, he hit a huge final crunch, forcing his inner fibers to crunch like hell, making his pecs pop out like two meat balloons. He let himself go with that image he made up in his mind, but then opened his eyes, looked to his pecs and saw them, but much better than what he had imagined: he could see his huge cleavage, the insertions of the pecs in the sternon, every single fiber insertion perfectly thick, huge, like a knife stuck in the middle of his torso, forming a perfect valley, but not in a line, but like a saw. He saw the size of the pecs, HUGE, popping out at least 10cm away from his ribcage, the insertion in the collarbone, shredded even in that position where those fibers didn't really work. He couldn't even find the smallest wrinkle in the join with his arm, his skin was so fucking tight that all of it was filled with muscle. That image was his fucking own muscle lust, and he entered that "zone" where he wasn't really him, but a self-loving muscle freak. He rolled up his eyes and went on repping: "200, 201, 202, ..." With each rep, he visualized the image of his pecs working, getting harder at that image. He wouldn't stop until failing, and that was going to last. "300, 301, 302, ..." His pecs burned like hell, making his cock harder and harder with each burning. "350, 351, ..." He began to lose his strength "362... FUUCKKKKK". He let his body drop, couldn't do another rep, and the sound of his body falling made his dog bark, freaked out. 375lbs falling down onto the floor made him feel as if there was an earthquake. Greg was exhausted, taking enormous quantities of air with each breath, but he was even hornier than before. He placed his huge fists and feet on the floor and raised his sweating 375lbs of muscle, maybe a bit less for so much sweating. He walked like a zombie, feeling a huge pain in his pecs muscles, knowing that this was going to be his biggest pump ever. He finally got to the bathroom, still in shades, reached the light switch and pushed it... And the sight of himself in the mirror just shocked him even harder... He couldn't really recognize his own muscle frame. His pecs were wider than ever, even relaxed, framing much wider that his armpits. The shape of them was almost perfectly squared. The followed the cuts of them wit his eyes, mesmerized with them: the freaky insertion in the delts muscle, as if the muscle were emerging from below the deltoids. It didn't even look like a single insertion, but every fiber bunch inserting into the deltoid, as if the pec were at least five smaller pecs growing from the shoulder. He followed the outer line of the pec, a bit inclined towards the upper abs. All that line was blurry, because of the fibers and striations that were running his pecs horizontally and hiding behind he pecs, inserting in his ribcage, in the part that was covered by his own pec. He raised his right hand and placed it behind his huge pec, finding the insertions of the fibers in the ribcage with his fingertips. He traced that insertion slowly, feeling the saw-like line that formed it. The feeling of that horned him even harder, making his cock grow longer, thicker, and making his huge cockhead slit drip some precum. He left his left pec free visible again for himself and went on enjoying his view. The outer line ended in his thick huge nipple, pointing down for so much meat on his pec. The fibers in his lower pecs were not completely parallel to the other ones, making clearly visible that those fibers helped the muscle make another movements different than the upper pec. He made a slow muscle contraction of the lower pec, really slow, from the bottom up, making the lower striations look deeper than the upper ones. When the muscle wave reached his nipple, it made it point a bit up, long, round and thick, freaky hard from so much blood in his pecs. He let his left pec fully contract in a wave of muscle running up, getting freaky hard, freaky striated, shredded everywhere, dry as fuck. Then he looked at the image: his right pec relaxed, but even so freaky shredded; but his left pec fully contracted, GROTESQUE, DRY, ALL-FIBER, HUGE, INSANE. Any word that came up to his head couldn't really describe what he saw, but his cock could. Now it was fully erect, huge as fuck, almost 15 inches of a thick, meaty muscle now dripping precum non stop. He got a handful of that pre and started sliding it all over his flexed pec. He loved the feeling of his pre in the muscle, the smell, no oil felt that good: He sticked his thumb between the pecs, running the cleavage, oiling it, feeling the freaky hard fibers grating his own finger, but he went on squeezing it harder and harder. Then with his handfull, all five fingers rubbing his huge pec, the palm feeling the whole pec, cupping it. He let his index finger work slowly gently on his nipple, and his full body contracted in pleasure. What could drive him wild as fuck was the idea of someone slowly worshipping his nipple, with his tongue tip. He imagined that in his mind, and got to a higher level of muscle lust. He relaxed his contracted pec, got a huge breath, making his chest expand almost 5 inches wider, freaky, shredded as fuck even in that position, skin stretched, he locked his eyes into his own pecs through the mirror, clenched his teeth and hit the freakiest most muscular pose ever. "FUCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK THAT'S IT FUCKER!!!!!" His pecs exploded into two freaky balloons of shredded muscles. They no longer looked like muscles, but like a bunch of fibers, placed one on top of the other, freaky huge insertions everywhere: into his cleavage, into his collarbone, the insertions in his delts freakiest than ever, framed by his huge biceps around them. The view was freaky as fuck, relaxed and contracted them a couple of times, but not slowly, he just wanted to see their pecs explode once and again, and that's what he got: freaky ballons of muscle fibers popping out of his body. Then he looked at the huge pit that his lower pecs formed with his upper abs, making a deep cave made of muscle walls. His cock was harder and longer than ever, he contracted his groin and made his cock raise up up up, and reaching that fuckage cave. He helped his cock and inserted his head in the deep pit and crunched both his abs and his pecs harder, catching his cockhead hard between them. He started humping his own pecs, pushing hard up and grinding his cock with his lower pecs, feeling the fibers with his head, even hurting it because of the hardness of the fibers. But it doesn't mattered, what mattered was that he was in the "zone", he could only think of his muscles, in loving them. He started crunching and relaxing both lower pecs alternatively, slowly jacking his cockhead, leaking precum non stop. He crunched his upper pecs, making such a huge cut in his collarbone so freaky it seemed the pecs were about to pop out of his body. Fuck he loved watching himself being a fucking pec freak. He stopped humping and concentrated of jacking his cockhead. He flexed his lower pecs more and more, giving his pecs a huge jack off, enjoying both the jackoff, but above all the ability of being able of self jack off with his pecs. He felt his balls working hard to make all that cum flow up, the burn of his horniness from head to toe, making his cock get about to cum, but his burn concentrating on his pecs, the aim of his lust, not his cock or his orgasm, but his pecs. But now it was time to let it go. He hit a couple of last crunches, shredding them more than before, giving a huge squeeze in his cock head and making his cock cum like a hose. "YEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH FUUUUCKKKKK". The first blast cum laid on his chin, the second blast laid on his left pec, and the rest of them flowing down his cock and his balls. Still horned as fuck, he got all his cock cum with his left hand and started rubbing all along his right pec, covering it and relaxing both of them. He slowly touched his nips with his cummy fingers, and the feeling of his own muscle cum in their hyper sensitive nips made his cock launch a huge last blast of cum right into the mirror. "Fuck, i can't wait to do this again after the workout".
  7. Guest

    Self worship: quads

    Hi guys, a new one, focused on an intense quad workout Hope you like it. ............................................. "Grrrrrrrrrrr......... 9" The pain was freaky intense, but he had to finish the series. He went for the 10th one, almost hard from the intense workout... "Ffffffffuckkkkkkkkk" He started raising the leg, and saw how his right foot was elevating the weight in the leg extensions machine. It wasn't a quick movement, Greg never liked doing quick movements, slow ones made the muscles work harder and, what was the best, observe how the fibers contracted and made his quad get freaky cut. He stopped the elevation about 10cm from the end, making the quads work intensely. It hurted like hell, but he knew the effect of this self-inflicted pain: it would keep his body fat low, really low, burning the last ounce of fat and carbs to stay in a perfect 0%bf condition. He looked at this quad and stood amazed, once again, at it, and got completely hard, his cock fully erect from the excitation of watching that freaky and beautiful work of art that was his own leg. He looked again at his leg, and saw that the knee was barely visible, being his teardrop as thick as it was. He admired how the muscle started at the middle of his thigh, emerging from below the rectus and flowing right under the sartorius muscles. Huge, thick, getting wider and wider as it approaches the knee, growing into a huge thick round teardrop head, almost covering the knee, and making the leg look like a boneless slab of muscle. He caressed the huge quad, as if he were trying to calm the pain down. Each caress made his cock tremble, as if he were jacking off his own cock, instead of being caressing his muscles. "Fuck, it's getting harder and harder each day". The feeling was fucking intense. When he touched any muscle on himself, he got instantly hard. And when touching his thigh, the effect was 10 times more intense. Quads was his favourite muscle group, he trained as much as he could. He moved his paper thin skin over the quad, very slightly, and saw how the superficial veins crawled over the cuts and fibers of the quad. He got hard with that sight. Fuck, how much he loved to see himself as a shredded freak!!. His balls contracted a bit, about to erupt before ending the series, but he had such a huge control over his cock and balls, that he could stop it. He stared at his quads again... "I'm going too far with this shredding stuff, but FUCK I love it" Yeah he loved it, he could be working out quads and watching himself grow for days, and he wouldn't need anything else. Just eat, to keep growing, but that's all. He traced the teardrop with his finger, making the skin get tight, freaky tight all over the cut. Then he cupped the teardrop with his hand, not covering it completely, so thick as it was. He turned the leg outwards, withouth relaxing the contraction, and making his inner thigh show up and make all the effort. The movement made his cock twitch a bit, getting him to the limit once again... but he could stop it again, and focused again on his inner thigh "Fuck, i love this muscle shit". That muscle shit was his sartorius muscle. The most freaky, insane, and weird muscle he had, and one of his fav ones. He saw how that long long muscle emerged from the knee. He could almost see the insertion in the bone, and followed the muscle with his finger, from the beginning, and crawing up, crossing over the end of the teardrop, and ended inserting right under the hip muscle. He lost his cock control just enough to let a huge and thick drop of cum jump and end right on the end of the muscle, next to the knee. "Fuck, it's like a giant cock right on top of the leg", he loved to thick of that muscle as if it was a freaky cock made of muscle. He turned the leg inwards again, to focus on the outer muscle, the vastus lateral and the middle head. And that was the freak show he love to make to himself. He had learnt how to make the ceps relax and contract one by one. At the beginning of the movement, he loved to watch the middle head of the quad getting thick, emerging between the teardrop and the lateral, making it deeper and deeper the cut with the lateral. And then, when turning the leg completely inwards, he saw how that middle head went down, overwhelmed by the size of the teardrop and the lateral head. This last one grew HUGE, it was insane, it was like a freaky second teardrop on his leg. He got horned as fuck again, his cock about to cum, and it got worst when he started to squeeze the lateral cep. "OMFG, this fucking lateral muscle is getting GROSS" And it was, in that position the muscle fibers were clearly visible, the fibers crossing from the knees all over the muscle, surrounding the huge cep and ending in the hamstring muscle. FUCK the view was amazing, in the "horizon" of his thigh, the cuts from the striations were freaky visible, as if the thigh were a ridge make of muscles and striations. He placed his leg again in the start position, to finish the rep and enjoy his view and his muscle orgasm. "Come on Greg, let's fucking enjoy this". He took a deep breath and got ready for the final crunch. Cock fully erect, cum ready and the blood ready to make that freaky gross quad crunch like hell. "Aaaarrrgggggggggggghhhhh" In a quick and final crunch, he finished raising the last 10cm and made his quad EXPLODE. Almost literally exploding into a million fibers, dozens of freaky deep cuts all over his legs. Not just the 4 main heads of the quad, but the rest of the smaller muscles in the leg, transforming it into a freaky and grotesque mass of fibers and striations. "That's it you fucker!!!!" He fucking loved that shit. He got horned, dirty, kinky, everything at the same time, when watching what he could do with his thigh. His balls were hurting, the orgasm was there, impossible to hold it anymore, but there was one more thing to do. He had prepared the machine to add 100lbs more when he wanted, and he wanted it right now. He released the plates, that falled onto the other plates and added 100lbs more to his already painful muscles. "FUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKKKKK" The leg EXPLODED again. His 4 ceps feathered at the same time. "SHITTTTTTTTTT. Look at that fucking shit!!!!!!!" It was impossible to distinguish where it ended one muscle and where it started the others. All the muscle was FIBERS, it was unbelievable, out of words. The veins popped out, trying to carry all the blood that the leg needed, He loved that view, seeing his own leg turned into a freak show for himself!!!! He couldn't imagine how would one true worshipper enjoy all that pure muscle display. He could resist it anymore and started jacking off, but not his cock, but his leg. With both hands he grabbed as much muscle as he could, and started squeezing them all over the thigh, moving the skin all over the muscle, jacking off like hell. His freaky leg feeling that every stroke is like jacking his dickskin, and sending the horniness right into his cock and balls. He did that as much as he could resist... That was his own muscle heaven, and then... "FUUUCKKKK YESSSSSSSSSSSSS" He started cumming like a hose. A huge first shot of cum flew right onto the teardrop. Second shot flew into the cut between the lateral and middle head, and the rest of the shots landed everywhere in the leg, covering his feathered muscles with cum. Fuck how he loved to cum to his own muscles. As much as flexing them, growing them, and turning himself into a freaky beast. Now he was satisfied. ".... and TEN"
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