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Hey Everyone, Evolution of Strength: Book 2 continues the intense journey of physical transformation, camaraderie, and personal growth. The story follows the close-knit "Tribe" as they tackle their muscle-building goals with unwavering focus, living together in a warehouse mansion where every day is shaped by their obsession with growth and strength. New characters, like the driven and athletic Blake Donovan, add fresh dynamics to the Tribe as their ambitions push them toward physical extremes. I hope you enjoy this next installment, which follows Jacob, Austin, Ryan, Hadi, and the other members of the Tribe on their evolution of strength. Like Book 1, this installment has 50 chapters, but I am continuing to edit, so keep those comments and suggestions coming. I love to rewrite your ideas into the storyline if they work. Here's the link to the first book if you want to go back and get caught up: Evolution of Strength - Book 1 ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Chapter 1: New Beginnings, Old Desires The Tribe was gathered in the expansive kitchen of the warehouse mansion, surrounded by gleaming countertops and industrial-chic decor. It was late summer, and the buzz of a new semester hung in the air, blending with the aroma of freshly blended protein shakes and sizzling eggs on the stove. The tribe’s camaraderie was palpable, a tight-knit family bound by sweat, muscle, and shared goals. Jacob leaned against the counter, his muscular frame stretching his T-shirt to its limits, watching as Austin fidgeted with his coffee mug. There was a hint of hesitation in Austin’s eyes, a flicker of uncertainty that Jacob could read like a book. Austin always had that look when he was about to bring up something he knew Jacob might not like. "Hey, babe," Austin began softly, glancing up at Jacob with a tentative smile. "I’ve been thinking… maybe we could think about moving back to the dorms this semester? I kind of miss being around campus, you know? All the energy and stuff." Jacob’s brow furrowed slightly, his deep-set eyes fixed on Austin’s face. "The dorms?" His voice was gentle but firm, the protective tone of his inner ‘Gorilla’ coming through. "I thought we were happy here. We’ve got everything we need—space, privacy, and no annoying RA breathing down our necks." Austin bit his lip, nodding slowly. He knew Jacob was right, but he still felt a tug towards the dorm life, even if it was just a fleeting feeling. "I know, I know. It’s just… sometimes I miss the noise, the people. But hey, if you’re happy here, then I am too. You know I always give in to you, big guy." He flashed a playful grin, leaning in to press a kiss on Jacob’s cheek. "Besides, you’re the boss." Jacob’s stern expression softened, and he wrapped a thick arm around Austin, pulling him close. "Hey, let’s see how it goes and if you really want to, we can talk to Hadi about renting one of the small apartments next to campus for some nights during the school week. I just want what’s best for us, Monkey. We’re a team, right?" Austin nodded, resting his head against Jacob’s chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat. "Always, Gorilla. Always." With the tension between them melting away, the conversation shifted to other topics, laughter filling the room as they talked about the upcoming semester and their training plans. As the morning passed, Hadi announced the arrival of a new addition to their tribe—a personal assistant he had recently hired to help manage his busy life. The morning air felt thick, charged with something more than just the sun filtering through the high windows of the warehouse. Zane couldn’t quite place it, but as Hadi shared the news, he felt the undercurrent shift. “His name is Blake Donovan,” Hadi said, holding his phone up for everyone to see. The handsome young man in the picture radiated raw, unpolished energy—dark, unruly hair framing a face that still held onto its youth, despite the tightness in his jaw. His muscular, athletic frame filled the photo, nothing like the hulking mass of muscle Zane was used to, but there was something else—an intensity that intrigued him. "Used to be one of my wrestling students, fresh out of high school, finished top of his class. His dad kicked him out at 16 when he found out Blake was gay." Hadi’s voice was low, almost matter-of-fact, but the weight of it hung in the air. Zane nodded, his eyes lingering on the photo longer than he meant to. "Looks like he’ll fit right in," he muttered, though the words felt off somehow as if they didn’t capture the hum beneath his skin. When Blake arrived later, Zane watched from a distance. The young stud looked even sexier in person, and there was a sharpness to him, the way he moved like he was always one step away from running but forcing himself to stay grounded. Zane’s eyes traced the lines of Blake’s body—lean, but tight, like a coiled spring ready to explode. He took in the soft curve of his lips, the wide-eyed awe as Blake took in the expanse of the old factory-turned-luxury loft. It was more than curiosity. There was an attraction there, a pull that neither of them could name yet, but Zane felt it deep in his bones. Blake’s energy was palpable, nervous, and electric, a flame flickering too close to something combustible. And every time Zane looked at him, that flicker grew. Blake noticed him too. The flush in his cheeks, the darting glances when he thought no one was watching, the way his body stiffened slightly whenever Zane’s voice rumbled through the room. It was obvious, almost too obvious, and Zane felt that same heat creeping up his spine. Later that day, Zane found himself standing outside Blake’s door, drawn by the quiet sound of movement inside. He hadn’t planned it—at least not consciously—but there he was, leaning against the frame, smirking as the door cracked open and those wide eyes met his. "Hey, pup," Zane drawled, his voice dipping low, knowing full well the effect it had. Blake’s breath hitched slightly, his body tensing and Zane felt a rush of satisfaction. "Figured I’d come to check on you, see how you’re settling in." Blake blinked up at him, clearly trying to keep his cool, but his voice betrayed him. "Uh, yeah... I’m... I’m good. Just, you know, unpacking." His gaze flickered nervously, but Zane caught the way his eyes lingered on his chest, the way Blake’s lips parted just slightly like he was already imagining something more. Zane didn’t wait for an invitation. He stepped inside, letting the door close behind him with a quiet thud. The air between them was thick and heavy with something unspoken but undeniable. He let his eyes roam over Blake’s form, appreciating the way his t-shirt clung to his toned body, the way his muscles twitched under the scrutiny. "You’ve got a good build," Zane said, his voice dripping with intention. He let his fingers trail casually down Blake’s arm, watching as the younger man shivered under his touch. "Ever thought about putting on some real size? Filling out a bit more?" Blake swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. "I... yeah, I mean, I’ve thought about it, but... I don’t really know where to start." His voice was quieter now, almost hesitant, but Zane could see the way his body responded, the way he leaned ever so slightly into the touch. “I have always wanted to be huge, just not interested in being on stage. Not my vibe.” Zane grinned, stepping in closer, his body heat radiating into the space between them. "You don’t need a stage to get bigger, pup. Just the right kind of focus." His hand slid down, fingers brushing over the hard lines of Blake’s stomach, feeling the tension coil under his skin. "And I think you’ve got plenty of that." Blake’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes wide as Zane leaned in, the heat of their bodies almost too much to bear. The tension snapped, and before Blake could say a word, Zane’s lips crashed against his, hot and hungry, like he’d been waiting for this moment longer than he’d admit. Blake melted into him, his hands instinctively gripping Zane’s thick shoulders, pulling him closer. Zane dominated the kiss, his lips rough and insistent, demanding more with every second. Blake moaned, soft and desperate, his body pressing up against Zane’s like he couldn’t get close enough. Zane growled low in his throat, breaking the kiss just enough to murmur against Blake’s lips. "Been watching you, pup. Since the second you walked through that door." His hands slid under Blake’s shirt, fingers brushing over his heated skin, mapping the planes of his chest, his sides. "Knew you’d be trouble for me." Blake’s cheeks flushed, but his eyes darkened, filled with a hunger that matched Zane’s. "I’ve been watching you too," he whispered, voice shaky but honest. "Ever since I saw your pictures on Insta, you’re so much bigger in person." Zane grinned wickedly, his hand tightening around Blake’s waist as he pushed him back against the wall, pressing his body into the younger man’s. "Good. Then you know what’s coming." Without another word, Zane lifted Blake effortlessly, his strong hands gripping his hips as he carried him to the bed, laying him down with a surprising gentleness. Blake’s chest heaved, eyes wide as Zane pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the tattooed expanse of his massive chest, every muscle flexing with raw power. Blake couldn’t take his eyes off him, the heat between them unbearable. Zane smirked, leaning down to claim his lips again, his hands roaming over Blake’s body, feeling the way he responded, the way he arched into his touch. Every kiss, every brush of skin felt like fire, and Blake was burning up, desperate for more. "Zane... please..." Blake’s voice was barely a breath, his fingers digging into Zane’s shoulders as he pulled him closer, needing to feel him, needing everything. Zane chuckled, his lips brushing against Blake’s ear as he growled softly. "Don’t worry, pup. I’m just getting started." Zane's breath was hot against Blake’s ear, sending shivers down his spine as the huge bodybuilder trailed his lips down Blake’s neck, nipping at the sensitive skin just hard enough to make him gasp. Zane loved that sound—raw, unfiltered desire—and he wanted more of it, wanted Blake to unravel beneath him. "God, you're fucking perfect," Zane muttered, his voice a deep, gravelly growl as his hands wandered lower, tracing over Blake’s abs, his fingertips skimming along the waistband of his jeans. Each touch was deliberate, teasing, drawing Blake closer to the edge without giving him what he so obviously craved. Blake squirmed beneath him, his breath coming in shallow gasps as his hips instinctively bucked toward Zane’s hand, desperate for more contact. His mind was spinning, consumed by the heat, the pressure, the overwhelming intensity of Zane’s huge body so close, pressing him down, dominating him in a way that made him feel powerless and powerful all at once. "Zane..." Blake's voice cracked, his fingers clutching at Zane’s huge tattooed arms, feeling the muscles ripple under his palms. He couldn’t think straight, couldn’t form a coherent thought other than how badly he wanted Zane to keep touching him, to keep pushing him further into this unfamiliar territory where nothing else mattered but the man on top of him. "Please..." That single word was all it took for Zane to snap. He grabbed Blake’s hips, yanking him closer, his fingers digging into the younger man’s skin with just enough force to make Blake whimper. Zane's lips found Blake’s again, kissing him harder, deeper, his tongue slipping past his lips to claim him completely. Blake’s body trembled as Zane’s hand slid lower, deftly unbuttoning his jeans with one swift motion. Zane pulled back for a moment, locking eyes with Blake, his gaze dark and intense, filled with an almost predatory hunger. "You want this, don’t you?" Zane's voice was low, dripping with a confidence that made Blake’s pulse quicken. His hands tugged at Blake's waistband, fingers brushing against his skin as he started to pull the fabric down. Blake nodded quickly, too breathless to speak, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted it more than anything, and Zane knew it—he could feel the raw need radiating off of Blake’s body. Zane smirked, his eyes never leaving Blake’s as he peeled the jeans down, letting them fall to the floor in a careless heap. Blake’s body was laid bare before him now, and Zane took a moment to admire the sight—lean, toned muscles, smooth skin, every inch of him practically begging to be touched. Blake’s throbbing 10-inch cock standing high and proud aching for release. "Fuck, you’re beautiful," Zane muttered, almost to himself, as his hands roamed over Blake’s thighs, his touch firm but slow, savoring every reaction he pulled from the younger man. He leaned down again, his mouth finding Blake’s neck, his tongue tracing a line up to his jaw as he whispered against his skin, "I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good, pup." Blake’s breath hitched, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him, his mind clouded with nothing but pure, unadulterated want. The way Zane’s lips felt against his skin, the way his hands held him like he was something fragile but also something to be devoured—it was overwhelming. He arched into Zane’s touch, his hips grinding upward, searching for more, for anything. Zane chuckled darkly, enjoying the way Blake was falling apart under him. He slid one hand up Blake’s chest, his fingers tracing over his perky nipples, teasing them just enough to make Blake gasp again. His other hand moved lower, finally wrapping around Blake’s huge cock, giving him a slow, deliberate stroke that made Blake’s entire body jolt with pleasure. "Fuck!" Blake hissed, his head falling back against the pillow as his body bucked up into Zane’s hand. Every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire, every touch sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through him. Zane’s grip tightened slightly as he worked Blake in long, measured strokes, watching every reaction, every gasp, every moan that slipped from the younger man’s lips. It was intoxicating, the way Blake was so open, so raw with his desire. Zane leaned down, kissing him again, swallowing the desperate sounds that came from his throat as he pushed Blake closer and closer to the edge. "You’re so fucking hot like this," Zane whispered against Blake’s lips, his voice rough with arousal. His hand sped up slightly, his thumb grazing over the sensitive tip, making Blake’s hips jerk violently. "Bet you didn’t think this was how your first night would go, huh?" Blake could barely form words, his body writhing under Zane’s relentless touch. His heart was racing, every muscle in his body taut with tension as he teetered on the edge of release. "Zane... I... I can’t... I’m—" "Shh, I know," Zane murmured, his lips brushing over Blake’s neck again, biting down just hard enough to leave a mark. "Cum for me, pup." The command was enough to send Blake over the edge. His body tensed, his breath catching in his throat as pleasure ripped through him, wave after wave crashing over him, leaving him shaking, gasping for air. He clung to Zane like a lifeline, his fingers digging into the other man’s shoulders as his climax hit him hard and fast, leaving him utterly spent. Zane watched him with a satisfied smirk, his hand slowing but never stopping, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure from Blake’s trembling body. "That’s it, pup," Zane purred, his voice soft but filled with dark satisfaction. "That’s what I wanted." Blake lay there, panting, his body still twitching with aftershocks, his mind spinning from the intensity of it all. Zane leaned down, kissing him softly now, gentle, almost tender, a stark contrast to the raw hunger from before. "You okay?" Zane asked, his voice quieter, his hand resting on Blake’s chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heartbeat. Blake nodded weakly, still trying to catch his breath. "Yeah... yeah, I’m good," he whispered, his voice hoarse but filled with a kind of contentment he hadn’t felt in a long time. His eyes fluttered open, meeting Zane’s, and he smiled—a real, genuine smile that made Zane’s heart do a strange little flip in his chest. Zane chuckled, leaning down to kiss him one more time, slow and deep, savoring the moment. His rough hand teased the still rock-hard 10-inch cock as he let his fingers drop lower until he reached the puckering tight hole, "Good. Because this is just the beginning, pup,” Chapter 2: Feeding the Obsession The morning light filtered through the thick curtains of the bedroom, casting long shadows across the floor. Blake lay sprawled on the bed, his chest still rising and falling from the intensity of the night before. He could feel the dull ache in his muscles, a reminder of Zane's power, the weight of the Brazilian's tattooed frame still lingering in his mind like a half-remembered dream. Zane was already up, standing in front of the full-length mirror, flexing his massive arms, the veins popping out like road maps etched into his skin. His high sex drive had brought him to Blake’s bed the night before, initially just to break the kid in and welcome him to the Tribe, but something had shifted. Something about Blake’s eagerness, his youthful energy, the way he practically worshipped Zane’s size—it had triggered something deep within the Brazilian bodybuilder. Blake stirred, his eyes slowly opening to the sight of Zane’s reflection, his heart skipping a beat at the sheer size of him. The young man’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, memories of the night before mingling with his own deep-seated desires. He had always been obsessed with muscle growth, with the idea of becoming something bigger, something powerful. And now, lying in bed after a night with Zane, that obsession felt more alive than ever. "Morning, big guy," Blake mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. He propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes drinking in the sight of Zane’s enormous body. Zane glanced over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Morning, pup. Sleep well?" Blake nodded, his gaze dropping to the thick cords of muscle running down Zane’s back. "Yeah… better than I have in a long time." Zane turned to face him, his massive chest heaving as he walked over to the bed. He sat down beside Blake, the mattress dipping under his weight. "You’ve got a good body, Blake. Strong, lean. But you want more, don’t you?" Blake swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. "Yeah… I do. I want to be like you, Zane. Huge, powerful. I’ve always wanted it." Zane’s eyes darkened with something that Blake couldn’t quite place. He reached out, running a hand down Blake’s arm, feeling the young man shiver under his touch. "Why? What drives you, pup?" Blake hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. He had never really talked about it before—not like this. But something about Zane made him feel like he could. "I… I guess it started when I was young. I was always smaller than the other guys, weaker. My dad… he hated that I was different, that I wasn’t the tough son he wanted. When I started wrestling, I felt like I finally had a way to prove myself. But even then, it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I wanted to be bigger, and stronger, something people couldn’t ignore. In all of my fantasies, I’m always much bigger and stronger. And now… seeing you… it just makes me want it even more." Zane listened, his expression unreadable as Blake poured out his heart. When the younger man finished, Zane leaned in closer, his breath hot against Blake’s ear. "You want to be a freak, don’t you? You want to be the biggest, the most powerful." Blake’s breath caught and his hard dick throbbed and began leaking, a thrill shooting through him at Zane’s words. "Yes," he whispered, his voice trembling with desire. "I want to be massive, Zane. I want to be like you. No… I want to be bigger than you." Something clicked inside Zane, a dark, primal urge rising to the surface. He had always been driven by his own desire to grow, to push his body to its limits and beyond. But now, hearing Blake’s obsession, feeling the raw hunger in the kid’s voice, Zane felt something new—a desire to mold this young man, to feed his obsession and see just how far Blake was willing to go. "You think you can handle it, pup?" Zane’s voice was a low growl, his eyes boring into Blake’s. "You think you can handle what it takes to get that big? Because I can show you…I can take you there. I can push you to places you’ve never even dreamed of." Blake’s heart raced, excitement and fear warring within him. "I want it, Zane. I want it more than anything." Zane’s smirk widened, and he reached out, grabbing Blake’s chin, and forcing the younger man to look up at him. "Then you’re mine now, pup. I’m gonna make you grow, make you into a fucking beast. But you’re gonna have to give me everything—your time, your body, your mind. No holding back." Blake’s breath caught in his throat, but he nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from Zane’s intense gaze. "I’m yours, Zane. I’ll do whatever it takes." Zane’s hand slid down to Blake’s throat, his grip firm but not painful. "Good. Then let’s get started." The rest of the morning was a blur. Zane took Blake through a brutal workout, pushing him harder than he had ever been pushed before. The younger man’s muscles screamed in protest, but he didn’t stop, didn’t complain. He wanted this—he wanted to be more, and Zane was the one who could make it happen. Afterward, Zane fed Blake a high-calorie meal, watching with satisfaction as the kid devoured every bite. There was a hunger in Blake’s eyes, a determination that Zane hadn’t seen in anyone else before. It was intoxicating. When the meal was over, Zane took Blake back to the bedroom, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light. "You’re gonna grow, pup. But you’re gonna need to learn how to push through the pain, how to embrace it. And I’m gonna teach you." Blake nodded, his heart pounding with anticipation. He knew this was the beginning of something big, something life-changing. He was ready to give Zane everything, to let the Brazilian bodybuilder take control and guide him on this journey. As Zane’s hands roamed over his body, Blake closed his eyes, surrendering completely to the man he admired, the man he wanted to be like. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, that there would be pain, struggle, and sacrifice. But in that moment, with Zane’s touch igniting a fire within him, Blake knew it would all be worth it. — The next day early Monday morning, Blake sat at Hadi’s sleek, modern desk in the home office, his fingers flying over the laptop keyboard. The room was a blend of dark wood and glass, a high-tech command center tucked inside the industrial grandeur of the warehouse mansion. He had been up early, eager to impress on his first official day working with Hadi. Across the desk, Hadi leaned back in his chair, observing Blake with a quiet intensity. “Settling in alright?” he asked, his voice smooth and commanding, a hint of amusement in his tone. Blake nodded, eyes still fixed on the screen as he navigated the various software suites with ease. “Yeah, I think I’m getting the hang of it. Thanks for the opportunity, Mr. Al-Mansour.” “Just Hadi,” he corrected, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “And it seems like you’ve already made yourself quite at home. I heard about you and Zane last night.” Blake’s fingers hesitated for just a second, a flush creeping up his neck. “Oh, yeah… we, uh, hit it off pretty well.” Hadi chuckled softly. “I bet you did. Zane’s a good guy. Intense, but good. He’ll help you get where you want to go if you’re serious about it.” Blake nodded again, not trusting himself to speak. His mind was still swirling with the memories of Zane’s hands on his body, the promise of growth and strength hanging in the air like a tantalizing dream. But it wasn’t just Zane who occupied his thoughts. As he glanced around the room, his eyes caught on a framed photo on the bookshelf—a picture of Hadi standing next to a man who was easily the most massive human Blake had ever seen. The man was a towering giant of muscle, every inch of his body bulging with impossible size and definition. His skin stretched tight over veined, pumped muscle, his presence almost too much for the frame to contain. Blake’s breath caught, his eyes widening as he stared, transfixed. He barely heard Hadi speaking until he felt the man’s gaze settle on him. “Ah, I see you’ve noticed Ryan,” Hadi said, a knowing smile crossing his lips. “Hard not to, isn’t he?” Blake swallowed hard, tearing his gaze away from the photo with effort. “He’s… massive. I’ve never seen anyone like him before.” Hadi’s smile widened, a touch of pride shining in his eyes. “That’s my Big Ryan. We’ve been together for a while now, and he just keeps getting bigger. We’re planning to get married later this fall.” Blake’s mind reeled at the thought. Married? He’d heard stories about men like Hadi and Ryan—giants among men, pushing the limits of human potential. But to see it so plainly, to be so close to it, was something else entirely. “He’s not here today,” Hadi continued, “at a conference for Exercise Physiologists. But he’ll be back tomorrow. His office is just next door. When he’s around, you’ll be expected to take care of all of his needs. He can be quite… demanding.” Blake’s stomach fluttered with a mix of nerves and excitement. The idea of being near Ryan, of possibly even working directly for him, was almost too much to handle. He could feel a familiar tightness in his pants as his huge thick cock throbbed, his body betraying him as his thoughts wandered to the image of that immense, powerful physique. Hadi didn’t miss it. His sharp eyes flicked down to the growing bulge in Blake’s lap, a knowing smile curving his lips. “Seems like you’ve got a bit of an obsession yourself, don’t you, Blake?” Blake flushed, his face heating up as he tried to hide his now full erection, but Hadi’s steady gaze pinned him in place. “I… I just—yeah, I guess I do. I’ve always been obsessed with muscle growth. Seeing guys like you and Ryan, it’s… inspiring.” Hadi leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his eyes darkening with curiosity. “Inspiring, huh? Is that what you’d call it?” Blake nodded, swallowing against the dryness in his throat. “Yeah. I want to grow, to be massive like you guys. I’ve wanted it for as long as I can remember.” Hadi chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down Blake’s spine. “Well, you’re in the right place for that. But it’s not just about wanting it, Blake. It’s about commitment, every single day, about pushing yourself beyond what you think you’re capable of. Are you ready for that?” Blake met Hadi’s gaze, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the weight of the older man’s words, the challenge inherent in them. But he also felt something else—a spark of determination, a fire ignited by the possibility of what could be. “I’m ready, Hadi. Whatever it takes, I’m ready, sir.” Hadi’s smile widened, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. “Good. I will text Zane and let him know I support this goal and to do whatever it takes to get you there. That's settled now let’s get to work. First, I need you to set up a meeting with Sergeant Bennett. I want to talk to him about our security around here and offer him a job. After that, arrange a meeting with Manuel, my construction contractor. I need updates on the plans for the factory remodel. And finally, set up a meeting with Javier—Manuel’s boyfriend. I want to see if he’s interested in offering his services in the expanded gym area.” Blake nodded, already moving to jot down notes on his laptop. “Got it, Hadi. I’ll take care of it. Anything else, sir?” He asked as he stood, his 10-inch cock throbbing around his left hip. Hadi nodded approvingly, “That’s all…for now.” As Blake worked at his desk in the outer reception area of the offices, Hadi watched him with a thoughtful expression. The kid was good—sharp, efficient, and clearly dedicated. And he had potential. Maybe more than even he realized. By the time they broke for lunch, Blake had accomplished everything Hadi had asked for and more. He’d even taken the initiative to set up new security blockers on their internal systems, having hacked into Hadi’s network with surprising ease. It was a small test, a way to prove himself, and from the look on Hadi’s face, it seemed he had passed with flying colors. But as they stood up to leave, Hadi’s gaze flicked down to Blake’s crotch once more, the persistent large bulge still evident. “You might want to take care of that before Ryan gets back,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Wouldn’t want him to think you’re too distracted to do your job properly.” Blake blushed, his heart racing. “I… I’ll handle it,” he stammered, flustered by Hadi’s casual mention of his obvious arousal. Hadi chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder as they headed out of the office. “Good. Because once Ryan’s here, you’re gonna need to be at your best. Trust me.” Blake nodded, swallowing his nerves as he followed Hadi to the kitchen. He knew he had a lot to learn, but he was ready. And if being here meant he could be closer to giants like Hadi and Ryan and Zane, to see and experience firsthand what it meant to truly grow, then he was more than willing to do whatever it took.

Chapter 1: Uncut? I like my men uncut. Both ways. Muscle and cock. Muscle: Heavy, off-season big. Cock: Natural, and full-grown. Finding just one? Hard. Hard enough. Both, on the same man? That’s a whole unicorn. Don’t let anybody tell you not to dream big. It was one of those crisp October mornings, the kind that makes you glad for a warm drink and the chance to eye a few rugged men across the way. They were hauling crates and setting up their booths. Micha sat at his table, stocked with tinctures and mushroom blends, all neatly labeled and set out for the kind of crowd that appreciates the finer things. But the name of his seasonal mix did tend to raise a few eyebrows. “Cocktober Uncut,” the label read, big and bold. Micha was aware of every raised eyebrow, every murmured what exactly is in this as people wandered past his booth, trying to act casual. His personal best seller—a blend meant to “enhance vigor,” or so he claimed with a wink—was a surprising hit. And while most customers just blushed or ignored the power-packed bottle, a few brave souls, usually the type with beards and flannel, would ask, “Does it work?” How to sell it? Give them a slow smile and a shrug that says, Oh, you’ll find out. Across the way, a man Micha'd been eyeing all morning—tall, broad, wrapped in a thick worn Carhartt jacket—emerged from his produce truck. He was pulling a few crates stacked high with big pumpkins and unusually large acorn squash. Micha ran his hand through his hair, watching for veins on those big hands across the way. When everything else is so covered, veins are the dead giveaway. Is it muscle, or is it fat? The guy reached up to unload a crate piled with pumpkins. Micha zeroed in like he's sighting down the barrel of a high-powered rifle, every muscle in his body going still. He squinted, lips pressed into a line of deadly focus. Deep breath in, eyes sharpening, tracking every inch of forearm. Sunlight glinted off the muscle, but—damn it—nothing rising. Nothing moving. Today’s vein report: low visibility. The bulk under that flannel could be regular fat. Or it might be no regular farm muscle, so strong, so big, lifting a heavy crate of pumpkins didn't make this man twitch. What are you hiding under all that soft flannel and heavy canvass? Anything big and round enough for me to lick? The earthy scent of his spiced blend mushroom mocha topped with sweet cream…this aroma always takes Micha back, every fall. He’d had one uncut man in his bed before—a rare man, like a unicorn—and damn if it hadn’t been everything Micha thought it would be. The man's warm skin, his soft glide, the way it felt watching the man lose himself. The man didn’t hold back—didn’t have to. Natural, pure pleasure. Just remembering, Micha’s gut schlicked, pulling at him, sparking his heat, like he’s flicking his thumb on his steel zippo lighter, the one with the custom-etched rose and single jutting shroom shooting towards the stars. Then, of course, there was the slap of reality afterward. Since God blessed America, all the boys have been cut. Micha spiraled his thumb over the soft rubbery round black dropper top of his Cocktober Uncut. All I wanted? Was the choice. As a man. A waft of earth and his favorite woodsy mushrooms floated up from his table, pulling him back. He adjusted the label on the “Cocktober Uncut” blend, glancing back to farmer in flannel across the way. He couldn't quite tell, but he let himself wonder. This might be my chance. Sure, Micha was trying to rein it in, pretending to focus on arranging his tinctures and mushroom powders. But his mind kept catching on the broad-shouldered figure covering up every damn thing in the sun with a Carhartt too big for even his bulk. Ridiculous how easy it was to imagine what could be under there. Could be uncut muscle, he thought, eyeing the guy’s hefty frame with a hint of a smirk. Born and blessed with a hot tongue, Micha knew he could get a man for himself. But for some reason, this guy had him rethinking his strategy, got his heart thudding at the thought of actually finding a big man who might just tick all his boxes. Two, to be exact. Two in one. Uncut cock, and heavy uncut offseason muscle. And damn it, the mystery was getting to him. His grin softened. Keep the jacket on, big guy, he thought, to calm himself down. It’s more fun to imagine. Uncut muscle, he mused, letting himself get lost in the idea. Maybe. Just maybe. The man could be a solid slab of potential. Broad shoulders, probably hefting those crates like they’re paperweights, thick biceps that might be making that flannel groan …all wrapped in a jacket so thick? He’s got to be hiding something underneath. Either something so underwhelming he dresses it down, or something impressive enough to keep it quiet. Sure, maybe the double uncut dream was as rare as a unicorn. Micha knows, he was gonna have to find a man not made in America. But don’t let anybody tell you not to dream big. The big guy reached for one of his own wine bottles, the deep green glass catching the light in his hand as he turned to a young couple standing with him. The couple looked fresh out of college, with the feathery but pressed-clean hippie look Micha knew well. Berkeley. She was holding her guy’s arm. He was tangling their fingers together behind their asses. They listened to the man’s low and rolling voice. Probably explaining something about the grapes. Or maybe the way he processes the soil. Micha couldn't hear the words. Didn't matter. The words don't matter. The depth and roll does. He narrowed his eyes, focusing in. Come on, roll that shoulder, big guy. Give me something. Micha let his fingers linger on the neck of his own tiny amber bottle. The guy’s hand wrapped around a gleaming green antique glass—his big, sturdy fingers, his broad palm, covering it with ease. Mmhm. Big boned. He’s got that, for sure. The way the guy moved, handling the bottles like they were empty instead of corked and full to the brim, the slow flex of his grip… enough to make Micha imagine: Biceps big enough to make lifting heavy weight look easy, pecs straining under all that flannel. Hell, there could be more power and size packed into those arms than he’d ever seen up close. Could be hiding a lot of mass under that damn canvass jacket. And damn if I'm not going to find out.

Hey everyone, I've been quiet on here for a bit since my first story, MG Project: Test Subject #5, dealing with some health issues, but I'm back and feeling better than ever. I'm excited to share that I've completed all 50 chapters of my latest story! I’m currently working on editing and fine-tuning the final chapters, but I wanted to release it here for your feedback and, hopefully, your enjoyment. Let's get massive! HD In "The Evolution of Strength," follow Jacob, a shy college student with a passion for bodybuilding, as he embarks on a transformative journey of self-discovery. From the weight room to the competition stage, Jacob pushes his body and mind to new limits, evolving from an anxious young man into a confident powerhouse. Along the way, he navigates unexpected friendships, intense rivalries, and the complexities of his own desires, all while striving to become the best version of himself. As he grows stronger, both physically and emotionally, Jacob discovers that true strength comes not just from muscles, but from the bonds he forms and the courage to embrace his authentic self. Chapter 1 - The Barn Jacob stood on the edge of the back porch, his gaze locked onto the old barn that had silently witnessed his transformation. The moonlight bathed the weathered wooden walls, casting long shadows over the barn’s contents. To anyone else, it was just an old building, but to Jacob, it was so much more. It was his sanctuary, the place where he had begun his journey toward self-discovery and strength. He inhaled deeply, his breath catching slightly in the warm late August night air. The memories of his first day in that barn were vivid. He had been twelve years old, newly orphaned, and overwhelmed by the strange world he found himself in. Uncle Jim, his mother’s younger brother, had taken him in, offering him a home when he had none. A big man of few words and even fewer gestures of affection, Jim had nonetheless given Jacob everything he needed—a roof over his head, food, and, most importantly, space to heal. “Uncle Jim, where are you?” Young Jacob called out, his voice echoing in the quiet house as he wandered through the empty rooms on his first morning there. “Gone to the job site,” he muttered to himself, reading the note left on the kitchen counter. He traced the words with his finger, feeling the roughness of the paper beneath his skin. “Be back later this afternoon.” It was all so new, so strange. The house felt like a stranger’s, even though he had visited a few times during the summers when his parents were still alive. But now, it was different. Now, it was home. Jacob spent the morning unpacking his belongings from his few boxes, each item feeling like a relic from a past life he could hardly remember. By early afternoon, he couldn’t stand being inside any longer. The walls of the house felt like they were closing in on him, so he ventured outside, following the path that led to the creek where he had played as a small child. The icy water felt refreshing against his skin on this hot summer day, a welcome distraction from the turmoil inside him. But it wasn’t enough. He needed something more, something to keep his mind from drifting back to the accident, to the loss. That’s when he found himself in the barn. He had been rummaging through the clutter, his fingers tracing the dust-covered remnants of a life that seemed so far removed from his own, when he stumbled upon the old weight set. Rusty and forgotten, it was clear that no one had used them in years. He stared at the barbell bar for a long moment, his mind racing with curiosity. “Why not?” he muttered to himself, the words barely audible in the stillness of the barn. He dusted off the bench and positioned himself beneath the bar, his hands gripping the cold metal. The bar didn’t budge at first, the weight of just the bar alone was more than young Jacob had anticipated. But he was determined. With a grunt, he unracked and slowly brought the heavy bar to his chest. Jacob pushed with all his might, his muscles straining against the resistance. Finally, he managed to lift it, his arms trembling as he struggled to press the bar above his chest. “Come on, just a little more,” he whispered to himself, his voice strained with effort. The bar wobbled in his hands, but he refused to let it drop. With one final push, he managed to rack the bar in the holder, a surge of triumph washing over him. “That was something,” came a deep voice from the doorway. Jacob started, his head snapping around to see his Uncle Jim leaning against the doorframe, a soft smile on his face. “Uncle Jim! I didn’t hear you come in.” Jim chuckled, stepping into the barn. “You were pretty focused there, Pup,” he said, using the nickname he had given Jacob years ago. “I see you found my old weights.” Jacob nodded, still catching his breath. “I didn’t know you used to lift.” Jacob was half teasing as he stared up at the mountain of a man that everyone else referred to as Big Jim. Jim shrugged, wiping his hands on a rag he pulled from his pocket. “Used to. Haven’t touched them in years. But it looks like you’ve got a natural talent for it.” Jacob’s eyes lit up at the compliment, but he quickly looked away, embarrassed by the attention. “I just wanted to try it,” he mumbled. Jim studied him for a moment before nodding. “Tell you what, Pup,” he said, his tone serious. “If you spend the next week cleaning up this old barn, I’ll show you some basic lifts. Can’t have you hurting yourself out here.” Jacob’s heart skipped a beat. “Really? You mean it?” “Sure do. But you’ve got to put in the work first. This place could use some cleaning up, and I think you could make it a good spot for training.” Jacob didn’t need any more encouragement. The next morning, he was up before dawn, cleaning and organizing the barn with a focus and determination that surprised even himself. By the end of the day, the old barn had been completely transformed. The rusty barbell set had been cleaned, the makeshift benches repaired, and the entire space cleared of dust and debris. Jim was impressed when he returned from work that evening. “Well, I’ll be,” he said, his voice filled with pride. “You did it, Pup. Looks like we’ve got ourselves a gym.” From that day on, the barn became Jacob’s sanctuary. Jim taught him the basics of lifting—how to maintain proper form, how to push through the burn, and how to listen to his body. Each lesson was a gift, a way for Jacob to channel his grief and confusion into something tangible. That first summer the weights became his anchor, grounding him in the present and giving him a sense of purpose. But it wasn’t just the physical strength that he gained. The barn, with its creaking walls and the familiar clank of metal, became a place where Jacob could find peace. It was where he could escape the questions and uncertainties of adolescence, where he could be alone with his thoughts and his growing muscles. “Uncle Jim, do you think… do you think I could get big and strong like you?” Jacob asked one evening, his voice hesitant. Jim looked at him, his expression serious. “I think you can be stronger, Pup. It’s not just about the muscles. It’s about what you do with them. The strength you build in here,” he gestured around the barn, “it’s got to mean something out there, too.” Jacob nodded, absorbing his uncle’s words. He didn’t fully understand them then, but he would in time. Years passed, and Jacob’s body grew in ways that amazed both him and his uncle. The once-scrawny boy became a mass of muscle, each lift, each rep a testament to his dedication. But high school was still a solitary experience for him. His shyness, his awkwardness around others, never quite went away, no matter how much he grew physically. “Why don’t you hang out with the other kids, Jacob?” Jim asked one day, his voice gruff but not unkind. Jacob shrugged, avoiding his uncle’s gaze. “They don’t get it, Uncle Jim. They don’t understand why I do this.” Jim sighed, placing a hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “Not everyone will, Pup. But that doesn’t mean you should hide away. You’re strong—stronger than most. Don’t be afraid to show it. One day you'll find your tribe.” Jacob appreciated his uncle’s words, but the truth was, he preferred the solitude. The barn was where he felt safe, where he could push himself without the fear of judgment or misunderstanding. It was where he could be himself, without the need to fit in with anyone else’s expectations, and where he was slowly coming to acceptance with his attraction to other muscular guys. Throughout high school, Jacob’s obsession with growing bigger and stronger consumed him. His days were divided between academic responsibilities and intense workout sessions in the barn. He had set goals for himself, striving to push beyond each limit he had previously encountered. Every lift, every set, every drop of sweat was a step toward a vision of himself that was powerful and unyielding. As he stood on the back porch now, drenched in sweat from his latest workout, Jacob reflected on how far he had come. The barn, with its assortment of repurposed equipment, had been more than just a gym. It had been his refuge, a place of growth and self-discovery. And now at just turning 19 years old, as he prepared to leave for university, he knew that the lessons he had learned here would stay with him, no matter where he went. Jacob turned back toward the house, feeling a sense of readiness for the challenges that lay ahead. He knew that while the barn and his solitary training had played a crucial role in his life, the future held new opportunities to maybe connect with other bodybuilders and explore new facets of himself. As he prepared for the transition, he carried with him the strength and resilience he had developed, knowing that his journey was only just beginning. Chapter 2 - Are You Superman? Jacob awoke early as usual, his nerves and excitement mingling into a restless energy. The full moon was still up as he pulled on his baggy clothes—loose sweatshirts and oversized pants—designed to conceal the results of years of dedicated training. Despite his attempts to blend in, the oversized clothing did little to hide the massive muscles he had painstakingly built. He hoped that by staying under the radar, he could avoid the attention his huge physique often attracted in public, which only heightened his shyness. As he arrived at the small town train station and gave Uncle Jim a goodbye hug, Jacob felt the weight of his past and the gravity of his future pressing down on him. The station was bustling with people, and as he made his way to the platform, he could feel eyes lingering on him. His size was hard to ignore, and despite his effort to go unnoticed, a few curious glances turned into outright stares. He caught snippets of whispers—comments about his broad shoulders, his meaty quads, his unusual bulk. A group of kids, fascinated by his appearance, approached him cautiously. One of them, a boy no older than seven, tugged on Jacob’s sweatshirt. “Mister, are you Superman?” the boy asked, his eyes wide with admiration. Jacob offered a shy smile, shaking his head. “No, just... just a guy who likes to work out.” “Wow,” the boy breathed, looking him up and down. “You must be really strong.” Jacob nodded, unsure how to respond, and quickly excused himself from the growing group of admirers, finding a quieter spot on the platform. The attention made him uncomfortable; he wasn’t used to being the center of it, and it only served to remind him of how different he felt. The train ride north was a blur of landscapes and thoughts. Jacob watched the scenery shift from the familiar flatness of his hometown to the rolling hills and urban sprawl of the larger city. Each mile took him further from his comfort zone and closer to the unknown challenges of university life. He tried to focus on the rhythmic clatter of the train on the tracks, using it as a way to calm his nerves. Jacob drifted into sleep on the train, his body lulled by the rhythmic clacking of the wheels. In his dream, he was surrounded by a horde of mutant muscle men, their physiques impossibly massive, every muscle group defined to perfection. Their bodies gleamed with sweat and flexed with power, the room vibrating with their testosterone-fueled energy. Each man struck exaggerated poses, their arms and legs swelling with veins and striations, showcasing biceps and quads that seemed to defy human limits. Jacob felt both awe and intimidation, his eyes darting from one colossal figure to the next, each flex sending ripples through their flesh that seemed to echo in the air. The dreamscape shifted abruptly, and Jacob jolted awake. The train car was dimly lit, and his heart raced as he looked around, still groggy. Across the aisle, a man in his thirties sat with an intense stare, his eyes fixed on Jacob's lap. The man's tongue flicked out to wet his lips as he eyed the prominent tent in Jacob's sweatpants caused by his gigantic cock, the evidence of Jacob's arousal now embarrassingly visible. A flush of heat spread across Jacob's face, and he scrambled to his feet, his mind racing. He stumbled down the aisle towards the bathroom, desperate to relieve the mounting pressure and escape the unwanted attention. When the train finally arrived at the city’s main station, Jacob disembarked with a mix of anticipation and anxiety. Carrying his duffel and back pack, he caught the eyes of many travelers as he made his way out of the busy station. He took a cab to a modest motel he had booked for the night. It wasn’t much, but it was clean and within his tight budget. The motel room was small and unremarkable, a simple space with a bed, a desk, and a worn-out armchair. Jacob dropped his backpack and duffel bag on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed, feeling the weight of the transition settle on his shoulders. His mind raced with thoughts of the coming day—orientation at the university, moving in with an unknown roommate in his dorm, meeting new people, trying to fit in. The idea of being around so many unfamiliar faces was daunting, especially knowing that his size would draw attention whether he wanted it or not. Jacob had always been shy, preferring the solitude of his workouts to the awkwardness of social interactions. Looking around the drab motel room, Jacob felt a familiar tension building. He needed to work out, to push his body and clear his mind. But of course, this cheap motel didn’t have a gym and it was too late to go exploring for one, so he decided to make do with what he had. He stripped down to his typical white cotton tanktop and jockstrap and started with push-ups. The familiar burn in his muscles was comforting, a reminder of the control he had over this one aspect of his life. He moved on to presses, lunges, and crunches, pushing himself until his muscles quivered with exhaustion. The workout helped to calm his nerves, but as he caught his reflection in the mirror, he couldn’t help but scrutinize his physique. He turned sideways, flexing his arm slightly, noting the size of his biceps, the way his veins stood out against his skin. But it wasn’t enough. It never felt like enough. He wanted to be bigger, stronger—an unstoppable force. The thought consumed him, and as he wiped the sweat from his face, he made a silent vow to push himself even harder once he settled in at the university. A loud knock on the motel room’s door interrupted his thoughts. Jacob tensed, unsure of who it could be at this late hour in this new city. He peeked through the peep-hole to find the middle aged desk clerk standing there, he opened the door cautiously. “Brought you some more towels,” the man said with a friendly smile. “Thought you might need them.” Jacob nodded, grateful but embarrassed by the intrusion as he fully opened the door. “Thanks,” he mumbled, taking the towels. The clerk gave him an appraising look. “I found this pass to a gym that’s a few blocks from here and thought a big guy like you might put it to good use in the morning. You’re one of those bodybuilders, aren’t you?” he asked, a note of curiosity in his voice as his eyes roamed over Jacob’s sweaty, bulging frame. Jacob shifted uncomfortably but excited about maybe hitting a gym in the morning, but he was not used to being asked such questions directly. “I... I lift weights,” he admitted quietly. The clerk chuckled. “Figured as much. You’re a big fella. Must take a lot of hard work to get that strong.” Jacob offered a small, awkward smile. “Yeah, it does. Thanks for the gym pass, I’ll check it out” “Well, good luck and let me know if I can help you out with... anything,” the man said suggestively and licked his lips, giving Jacob a nod as his eyes landed on his overstuffed, old jock strap. Jacob, in his surprise and haste at the knock on the door, had forgotten how he was dressed and quickly panicked. As the door clicked shut behind him, Jacob leaned against it, taking a deep breath. The brief interaction had left him feeling exposed, and his anxiety resurfacing with a vengeance. He wished he could be more confident, more at ease with himself. But for now, he would just have to focus on what he could control—his training, his goals, and the path ahead. He headed to the small bathroom and splashed cold water on his face. That helped but he realized as he smelled his ripe musk he needed a full shower to rinse off the sweat from his workout. He turned on the warm water and stripped out of his sweat soaked tank, which took some effort over his pumped muscles. The ragged jockstrap had definitely seen better days but still did its job of containing Jacob's enormous manhood. Released from the entrapment, his semi-hard cock flopped out over his bull balls slapping from thigh to thigh as he moved. He made a mental note as he picked up the sweaty jock and flung it toward his duffel bag to shop for more underwear from that website he found last year that catered to big guys with big meat. The shower helped as he soaped up his pumped muscles but there was still a tension that needed release and if he didn’t address it now Jacob knew he would never get a good night’s rest before his big day tomorrow. As he dried off from the shower his cock was now full on raging hard and demanding attention. He walked over toward the bed and reached into his backpack and pulled out the latest issue of Massive Muscle Magazine. Back on his 14th birthday, Uncle Jim had gifted him with a subscription to the magazine and Jacob had renewed it every year since. Each issue provided instruction and motivation as Uncle Jim intended, but more importantly it fueled his growing sexual fantasies to the point where every single page of each monthly issue would be soaked with his seed until the next month’s issue arrived and the process repeated. He excitedly flipped through the brand new magazine and stopped quickly on the layout images of a couple of his favorite mass monsters. They were in front of a tractor doing a double bicep pose, wearing tight jeans, no shirts, and cowboy hats. Jacob grabbed the base of his thick, throbbing meat with his right hand as his eyes zeroed in on the huge bodybuilders and his focus went right to their dark hairy pecs and pits. Jacob loved seeing the rare images of the huge muscle men in their natural hairy state as opposed to when they shaved for the stage competitions. He dreamed to feel the soft fur covering the granite-hard pecs and wondered what those pits smelled like after they finished working on the ranch all day…oh…ugh…grunt…and without even one stroke of his cock the cum shot out of his cannon hitting the far wall of the room above the bed. Jacob threw his head back and dropped the magazine as stream after stream erupted from his hard cock. He fell forward onto the cum stained sheets and almost instantly was in a deep sleep.

It had been a very hectic day, but it was soon coming to a close. Moving from the university town where my lab was located to a big city, doing the paperwork, getting everything in the building, more paperwork, directing the movers, more paperwork, worrying about the opening day, and finalising the paperwork. But, the last piece of equipment (a rack of dumbbells, in cast you were wondering) had been hauled up the stairs, and the last document had been signed. The people who worked on this collaborative effort all left, leaving me alone with my brand new gym. I’d been laughing to myself all day when the movers stopped to comment on my business model. “This place seems a bit remote, I wouldn’t know where to find it.” “Are you advertising this place?” “Maybe I’ll get a membership, my misses thinks I’m packing in the pounds” Oh how innocent they were, none of them new the extent of my true intentions with this place, but that was kind of the idea. They were correct that there was no sign outside of advertising that told a soul that this place was a gym, or any way that the average Joe off the street could discover it, but that was the general idea. I walked through the gym area, marvelling at the amount of weightlifting stations I’d managed to pack into such a small space, and the array of weights that accompanied them. I peeped inside the men’s changing room, and fantasised about the men who would soon fill it. I also peeped into the women’s changing room, but only for a quick chuckle to myself. The only other place was the reception area and my cramped office in the back, where I had already set up my device. It stood proud in the middle of the room and looked like something right out of the future, which in a way it was. I checked the message I’d already coded, and sure enough it was ready. “If you want to be big, to be powerful, want muscle, and love muscle, come closer, come to the fourth floor.” I turned the device to its most powerful setting, and waited for my first client. In fact, my first client would walk down the street that day. I’d conveniently placed my gym near the local gay bars and the general gay scene, so it was only a matter of time before someone to my liking would stroll past. Samuel was on his way to drink away his sorrow at his local place, and maybe shack up with someone. His job was a miserable slog through hours of bullshit that he only had the slightest grasp on, and the rest of his life was suffering. His mid section looked as if it has been inflated by a bicycle pump, and he began to get out of breath just walking to the nearest fast food restaurant, which was a trip he often made. While there were guys willing to get with someone of his disappointing build, few were the guys he dreamt of, the muscle guys. They were all interested in others like them, the ones who looked like they lived in the gym; but Samuel wanted to be like them, and to have them. As he walked from his work, still dressed in the suit that barely contained his swinging belly, he started to feel strange, but in a good way. His cluttered mind cleared of all the bad things rattling around, and he felt both a sense of calm, as well as a magnetic pull towards the building to his right. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d never seen what was up there, and needed to find out. He heaved himself up the stairs, stopping at the forth floor, and pushed against the unmarked door into whatever was behind it. When he came barrelling through the door, I was stood there waiting for him. Seconds before he entered, I’d switched to the second message on the device, knowing the first had done its job. “You want to be big, you want muscle. This gym is doing it. Don’t question, just lift, eat right, and lift.” He looked around, a little confused, and finding no other source of information, approached my desk. “He-hello, um, I know this is a strange question, but what is this place, I’ve never noticed it before?” “It’s a gym, Mr...” “Sam. Well that’s my first name.” “Nice to meet you Sam. We’ve just opened this morning, and you’re the first to come through our door. If you’d like to look over our membership options, I’d be happy to make you our first client.” “Oh I see, well it sounds great.” Brilliant, the second message was taking hold. This guy looked like he’d barely walked into a gym in his life, yet he was already signing on. He looked over the memberships, but I could tell he’d already made up his mind. He bought a month’s membership, and left, promising to come tomorrow morning. I didn’t need a promise, I knew he would. When I opened up the place the next day, it was scarcely twenty minutes before Sam came through the door. He was clearly nervous, but had a gym bag over his shoulder. He said hello to me, and went into the changing room. The walls were covered with pictures of muscled bodybuilders, and even a couple of morphed ones beyond human potential. They all turned Sam on, but he thought better than trying to jerk off there. He began to pull a shirt out of his gym bag, but saw a sign displayed prominently on the wall. “For hygiene purposes, we ask all our male clients to exercise without upper-body clothing.” Sam slid the shirt back, and left the room with the air on his bare chest. When he walked into the gym area, I’d already switched to the third message that provided instructions on how to perform the main lifts. I watched him like a hawk as he flawlessly performed a bench press set, then another, and another, and another. He moved on to another exercise, and another, and another, and another. Soon multiple hours had passed; sweat was running down Sam’s uncovered upper body, but he was still desperate to keep going. As the months passed, Sam became morphed into the very definition of a “gym bro”. He was eating like a train, but if was all beans, lentils, of whatever protein he could get his hands on. The idea of eating fast food seemed like swallowing a live rat, and his belly soon vanished until he had a slight gut protruding. Despite his rapid weight loss, the muscle mass kept on coming. I was shocked at his increasing size that didn’t seem to have an end; the weights he put on the bar climbed higher and higher. Also, he always had a story of the latest guy he’d taken to bed, often with pictures of guys with bulging muscles to accompany them. One day, I saw the true change in him. His shoulders looked like they’d almost doubled in width thanks to the many exercises and the lack of fat below them, and the seemed to crown the pecs that had began to form a gorgeous shelf above the last whimpers of a gut (which I knew had chiseled and beneath). I don’t know what about that day had told me that the experiment was a success, but my pilot trial had gone without a hitch, and it was time to expand the operation. “Sam, can I ask you something?” “Go ahead dude.” Sam replied, his voice seeming much deeper than when we met, possibly from some bodily change, or his new confidence. “You involve yourself with a lot of guys who are into fitness. I don’t want to put you on the spot, but it would be great if we could drum up some business around here.” “Sure thing bro. I’ve got guys that would put my progress to shame, and they’re constantly looking for a place with a lot of lifters.” He was nice to consider my request so thoughtfully, but the machine was giving him another message. “Get ones like you used to be. Convert the hopeless. Make them into gay adonises like you.” And he did. Soon, a guy called Blake was walking sheepishly up my steps. His thin physique was a product of years of neglect, and it was thanks to his dislike of food that he wasn’t as fat as a planet. But the messages guided him along, and he soon found himself shirtless and heaving weights in my place. Then another called Peter, who was too nervous to step foot in a gym, but laughed along with his bros and flexed for them after some conditioning. Then Bertrand, and Viraj, and Michael, and Paul, and Rohaan, and Julien, and another Michael, and so on. Soon, my gym was stocked full of beautiful adonises. They were all as shirtless as swimmers, showing their chiseled bodies on display, and I suspect I didn’t need the rule to get them to do it. Their shoulders were so broad they could barely walk around the place without bumping into the others, their pecs were striking and big enough to bounce with considerable force (which they loved to do), their arms showed mountains of muscle that rose into beautiful peaks when they checked their progress in front of the mirror, their legs forced them to waddle and their asses strained the largest jeans. In total, they were perfect. But the best part was the lust for each other that they soon discovered. I’d morphed their interests had always been towards the muscular, but I’d changed them to accept the biggest guys, and accept little less. This, combined with their rising testosterone, meant they could barely perform a session without slinking off to the back. They hammered away at each other which such ferocity, and I loved it when it became a battle of strength for who could take the most. They wouldn’t give two shits when I’d sit in on their sessions, and watched their muscles collide and stick together from the beads of sweat that rolled down the many crevices of their new bodies. My experiment had worked better than I could have ever expected, but I wanted more. The device could be scaled up, and so could the results of my clients. Of course, their progress was less than natural, a fact they would of learnt if they’d only stopped to consider why the liquid in the water cooler seemed to have such an odd taste, not that they would question it. This was only the beginning.

Chapter 1: The First Day Jayden looked over the website, looking for a new job. His funds had gotten low, and he was getting to that point where his roommates were pressuring him to find a new job, to help pay the bills. His current job as a janitor at a school wasn't really paying well, and he paid less bills than his roommates. So, he decided to try something new. Sighing, he rested his head on his desk. The young 22 year old's eyes had bags under them, having not slept for near on 23 hours now. He was about to give up hope, until he spotted a strange looking advertisement. It stood out to him, as it had an interesting job name: "Towel Boy/Escort Wanted! Male Only!" He shrugged, and decided to check it out. He clicked on it, and it took him to an external site. The site's color pallet was red and black. It was for a gym called "Pump and Hump". "The...Pump and Hump? That's...strange. Probably means something like 'hump day' or something." The young man shrugged, and continued to read the ad: Towel Boy/Escort Wanted! Male Only! We are seeking a young man, aged between 19 to 26. The applicant must be good with their hands, and be in shape. Preferably, the applicant must also be homosexual, or, at the least, bisexual. The applicant must also be willing to engage in possible intercourse. No references required! Pump and Hump is a homosexual gym proudly founded in 2017, by Mr. Tim Yates. It is a place for exercise nuts to come and be themselves, working out, and enjoying a public shower and locker room. We are specifically looking for a young man to towel down sweaty bodybuilders, as well as service them. The Position comes with many benefits: you will be provided health insurance, and free access to the gym and showers. In addition, your hourly rate will be $25. We hope you'll apply, and give us a chance. Jayden looked at the ad, his eyes wide. He never knew a place like this existed. He looked at the provided pictures, and the interior was clean, immaculate, and was filled with various pieces of exercise equipment. The showers were very large, and the locker room boasted 900 lockers. He then decided to look up Tim Yates, and found himself looking at a rather attractive image. Tim seemed to be a 47 year old man, who was tall, boasted a strong musculature, and was well-endowed. He had gorgeous brown eyes, and short, sandy blond hair. He was the epitome of masculinity. Jayden gulped. He was gay himself, and the thought of toweling down and servicing handsome men appealed to him. And with such good benefits, he was very tempted. He looked at the required schedule, and the expected maximum hours were 72 hours a week, at most, 24 hours at least. He quickly tapped apply, and sent off his resume, along with, as he hoped would help, a picture of himself. Jayden was a rather handsome guy. 6 foot even, and toned. He had blue eyes, and shoulder length brown hair. He also was proud of his 10 inches. He got up, and was about to head to bed. Before his head hit the pillow, his phone buzzed, telling him that he had an email. He blinked, picking up his phone. It was a text from...Tim Yates! "HI THERE! I was wanting to say, love the resume. We'd love to have you. Please, come by tomorrow at 10am sharp." Jayden's eyes went wide. Did he just net the job? He grinned, before passing out. Awakening several hours later, Jayden remembered his interview, and quickly washed up, suited up, and headed out. His short drive to the gym was uneventful, but he was thinking about what would happen. He could only imagine the types of guys that would be there. He grinned stupidly, before coming to when he got to the gym. He pulled up, and noticed that there were few cars in the car park. Maybe most people walked there? Regardless, the young man made his way inside, and found himself in a small reception area. It was soothing, playing rock music over the stereo system. "Hey there. You Jayden?" Jayden stopped looking around, and focused on the guy behind the counter, blushing bright red. The man was handsome! He must've been 6 foot 6, and was muscular enough that his chest bulged out his shirt, his nipples visible. His arms were strong, with veins on them. He was sitting, so unfortunately, Jayden didn't get a good look at the goods. The man, who's name was Adam, according to his name tag, had a gorgeous, heart melting smile. This man seemed genuinely nice. "U-Uh, yeah, that's me. Mr Yates wanted to see me?" "Yeah, for sure! Follow me!" Adam stood up, and led Jayden down a hallway behind the desk. Jayden watched Adam's bubble butt bounce with each step. It was mesmerizing, filling out his shorts nicely. Jayden grinned, before he quickly looked away when he noticed Adam looking over his shoulder. He stopped at a door, with a manager sign on it, and knocked. There was quiet for a couple of minutes, before it opened up, and Tim peeked out. He was really tall in reality, probably about 6 foot 10. "Jayden? Excellent! Come on in." Adam left them to it, as Jayden stepped in, Tim closing the door. They both took seats, and Tim looked over the young man, like he was looking for something. He nodded, seemingly pleased, and smiled at Jayden. "So, the ad...you know what you applied for? You may go home stinking of sweat, and with a sore ass." Jayden chuckled awkwardly, before nodding. "Yeah, I know. It's...It's why I applied, sir. If I have to be honest, this is kinda my dream job. I was caught off-guard something like this existed." "Is that so? So, tell me, Jayden, you're gay, right? You outed? Or closeted?" "Uh, I'm...kinda still closeted. I haven't told many people." "Heh, that's alright. Well, if you'd like, today we can give ya your first shift." Jayden blinked. He wasn't expecting to be hired immediately. He rubbed behind his head, and nodded. "Sure, but, don't I need a uniform? And to give you my bank details?" Tim nodded. He got up, and headed to a storage closet. He disappeared inside of it, before returning with a uniform. It was like Adam's, with a pair of shorts and a polo shirt with the logo on it. And, after this, Tim and Jayden sorted out the paperwork details, before Jayden was sent to change. He found the uniform comfortable, and it was shaped to his body nicely. He grinned, blushing that he had this job. He looked at himself in the mirror, before he lifted his arm into a flex. It wasn't impressive, but it showed that the lad worked out a little bit, at least. Jayden grinned, before the lights were blocked, and he looked at the mirror again, seeing someone standing behind him. He jumped, and turned around, looking up. It was an Adonis of a man. He must've been 7 foot tall, and powerfully built. He looked like a Greek god, his pecs as big as barrels, and his abs like saucers. His arms were as thick as basketballs. And, those tree trunk like legs. And, being covered by his only piece of clothing, his package hung heavy, the bulge itself looking like he was smuggling a bowling ball. "Hey there, cutie. Never seen you here before. New here?" "Uh, y-yeah. I am. You're...fucking huge..." Jayden facepalmed himself at his comment, which he had said out loud. The big guy laughed, and lifted his arm into a flex. That arm could've knocked down a wall. Jayden reached up for it, before stopping himself. The big guy cooed to him gently, before handing him a towel. Jayden then noticed that the huge guy was covered head to toe in sweat, super musky. He had a strong, masculine smell, and had an earthy tone to it. Jayden began wiping down the guy's abs, before the guy smirked, and tugged Jayden close, forcing Jayden's face into his armpit. Jayden groaned, his face and now moist hair covered in the big guy's sweat. "Towels are boring, aren't I right, cutie? So, let's be fun with this. Lick the pits, cutie." Jayden nodded, tossing the useless towel away, as he ran his tongue up the larger guy's hairy pit. He tasted the sweat, and it was rather salty, but it tasted nice to him. He sampled the pit, before the big guy pushed him back. "What's your name, kid? Mine is Phil, but you can call me daddy." Jayden huffed, licking his wet lips, as he was slightly dazed by the scent still. He shook himself back to reality. "Mine is Jayden, daddy." Phil nodded, admiring Jayden. He flexed his bicep, and Jayden immediately reached up, caressing the bicep. It was powerful, like it was made of marble. Jayden kissed it gently, massaging the bicep. Phil groaned happily, his shorts growing tight. Jayden turned his attention to those two, huge pecs. He smiled, running his tongue up the crevice between them. He then kissed each of them, massaging them happily. He would come closer, and would slip a thick nipple into his mouth. He suckled on it greedily, making the bodybuilder moan out in pleasure. "Fuuuuck, kid. Easy now. I wanna finish inside of ya." Jayden pulled off of that nipple, and kissed down the huge man's abs, before ending up on his knees in front of the huge man. He would hug around a thick leg, and would lick up and down it, tracing the muscles that flexed in it when Phil moved. He moved to the other leg, and ran his tongue up it, before finding himself face to face with that package. Phil grinned, and stroked Jayden's head. "That's right. Daddy has a present for ya. Gotta unwrap it first." Jayden hastily tugged down those shorts to the huge guy's ankles. He went wide-eyed, staring at the package before him. If he had to guess, the cock that was poking his nose now must've roughly been 20 inches of pure man, with a heavy set of balls dangling beneath them. Jayden was unsure, but he remembered his job. He looked up, and took the head of that monster into his mouth. He would slowly bob his head on it, running his tongue down the sides of it. He was an amateur, and it showed, fitting only 4 inches of it into his gob. The man still moaned in pleasure, gripping a hold of the lad's hair. Jayden didn't want to make the man bored though. He gripped the man's balls in one hand, and stroked them. And, with his other hands, he gripped the shaft that wasn't in his mouth, and began jerking it off. The man groaned, with a grin. "Fuck, kid, ya must be a pro? Or you've watched a lot of porn." Jayden blushed, working that cock in his mouth. Phil moaned out, before he began thrusting his hips. He looked down at Jayden, who looked up at the man, past his heavy pecs. THe two shared a look, before Phil grinned. He slammed a fist into a locker, denting it, as he let out a yell of pleasure. Jayden winced when his cheeks swelled up, his mouth quickly filling with the alpha male's cum. He gulped it down as quick as he could, only to be replaced by more cum. It felt like a long time, Jayden's eyes watering up from the heat. Phil was clenching his teeth, experiencing a hard orgasm. Jayden felt a breeze on his belly. After a couple minutes had passed, Phil pulled back, spurting some cum into Jayden's hair. He panted, swaying a bit, before he looked down at Jayden. "Well, kid, I gotta get back to work. But, you enjoy yourself now." Phil tugged his shorts up and left. Jayden shakily got to his knees, and looked at himself in the mirror. He was shocked to find that his belly had swollen up. He rubbed over it. It had swollen with Phil's seed, and the young man looked several months pregnant. Jayden belched, the smell of Phil's musky seed. He grinned, jiggling his now sloshing gut. "Fuck, if this is my first day, this job is going to be the time of my life." And, with that, Jayden went around the first day of his shift, stinking of the alpha male's sweat, and with a sloshing gut, as he attended to his customers. And Jayden had the best day of his life.

Hello, this is my sequel to "My Boyfriend Made Me Huge", this time focusing of Eric. Since that was my first story I kept it short, both in word count and in time, but I want Eric's growth to be longer and more incremental now that I have some better writing experience. That being said there is no real growth in this first part, just setting the stage. Additionally, you should know that while Justin's story was purely a gay fantasy, Eric's will be bisexually orientated. And for anyone wondering, the growth powder in this story is inspired by the "Collage Supplemented" story by Bigger4Me (if you're into elements of humiliation, definitely give that a read), while I'm sure such a substance/plot device is not original on a site like this, it should be stated. My Boyfriend Made Me Huge ( https://musclegrowth.co/topic/21908-my-boyfriend-made-me-huge-part-3-added-2721/ ) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Prelude Have you ever felt trapped in your body? Like you really lost big on the genetic lottery? Because that's me... or at least it was me. At 5'6" if I stretched, 110lbs wet, and 3" prick I was left cursed with the body of a weakling. I wasn't even good looking either, a deviated septum left me a bent nose that was hard the breath with, my eyesight was bad, and the only thing a short lived puberty ever gave me in abundance, was acne. Then in my Sophomore year at college, after years of bad luck, a miracle happened. At lunch one day I was visited by an angel, only on second glance it wasn't, it was my study partner Justin, only he had …changed. While previously he was of average height, decent build, with brown eyes, he sat before me a tall, muscular, blue eyed hunk. It was everything I'd ever wanted to be, and he'd promised to tell me how he'd done it, he promised to do that to me! I didn't see him for a week (one filled with anxiety and anticipation), but he had texted me. He asked all sorts of odd questions, current height and weight, my blood type... my favorite eye color (green). He insisted that all of this would be necessary to know in order to make me grow, he instructed me to wait out the week, and find him at the weight room on Monday afternoon. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hunk In Progress, Part 1 I immediately felt out of place at the weight room, the smell of sweat, the loud clanging, everything was so unnerving. Everyone was huge compared to me too! Don't get me wrong, I loved seeing a well muscled guy as much as anyone else (that isn't straight that is), but everywhere I turned lumbered busy giants who threatened to step on me. I had never really worked out a day in my life, I didn't even know what I'd do, I was too nervous to talk to anyone so I just stood there like an idiot. It was about then that I began to chicken out when the ground shook, and I was suddenly enveloped by a large shadow. Whirling around I was stunned at the towering form before me, I didn't know If I should be terrified or not but I was definitely aroused. Standing before me had to be the tallest man I've ever seen, bulging from well tailored gym clothes were muscles befitting a titan, I could count the bricks of his ten pack, and when he moved the striations of his musculature rippled with power. Affixed in a masculine, square jawed face (sculped by the gods no doubt), had the be the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen. Although I admit it was hard to maintain eye contact, for snaking down the right leg of his sweatpants was a monster cock that probably put my forearm to shame. The Adonis easily outdid both supermodels and porn stars in every category. For a moment I was almost relieved my dick was so well concealed by it's size. "Are you ready to get huge man?" His voice rumbled in a deep masculine tone. "I... I'mma... you... wha... who?" "Heh, sorry little guy..." He said taking a knee, "Not too many people can recognize me anymore." "Ju... Justin! Oh my god your enormous!" "Just you wait man..." now beginning to flex a most muscular that threatened to tear away the fabric of his shirt, "I think you'd like the size yourself." "H... how... how did" "My ah... boyfriend made me huge", and gave a smile that threatened to make me cum. "And... and I could really get this big too?" The sheer thought of obtaining those looks...that much POWER. I started to get excited, I needed it! "Bigger and better..." he said rising again to his full height, "c'mon I want to show you something." Justin had started to stride toward the locker room, to enter he put his hand under the top of the frame and ducked through. This guy had to be 7' or taller. He waved me over to a more private area, started digging through a bag, pulled out a large white jar and started talking again. "As I was saying my boyfriend did this to me, you've met Logan right?" "Uh, yeah? A little taller than me, good looking, pretty smart guy. A Chem major right?" "Oh yeah, really smart, but he isn't so short anymore. Anyway he made this..." now holding out the nondescript white jar, "Unfortunately it isn't the fast acting stuff I got, but its the best I can get you." "Oh man, uh wow, I mean... can I ask you question", I said looking up at the giant. "Shoot." "Why are you doing this... why do you care?" "Well... I've seen how people look at you. Or rather, don't look at you. I was already good looking to start off, people like you deserve this more. You do ...want this right?" "Want this? Oh man, your more than I've ever dreamed of being. Um say... could I uh... feel?" "Ha, sure man! Say, you're gonna love being this big." The colossus sat down on the bench, raised his long arms, and flexed two enormous biceps. I ran hands across them, feeling his rock solid muscle, With both hands I couldn't even hope to reach around his arm. This was the closest I've gotten to sex in my left and it was great. As I lost myself in his size the gravity of the situation started to down on me. My whole life I've spent being a shrimp, now if this stuff worked I was going to get as big as this guy, maybe bigger... ascend to godhood! This was going to be great! "I could sit here doing this all day..." hands now running across his incredible abs, "But I think I can't wait to get this big myself, how does it work?" "Yeah, here is where the fun begins! Alright you need three things, the powder, exercise, and lots of food. Don't mix up too much of it though, it will go to waste. Here I already got some ready for you." He took out a water bottle, evidently mixed with whatever substance was in the jar. It had a green coloration that swirled as he gave it a powerful shake. Justin handed it to me and I gave it a sip. It tasted like lime mixed with one or two things that are hard to describe, very strong, and very good. It had a real kick as it went down. "Feel any different Eric?" I looked down at myself, I knew it it wasn't going to turn me into the incredible hulk or an anything, but I expected more. "I don't know, jittery? Fuck actually real jittery" "Alright man, lets go lift!" Justin began showing me how to lift and use the machines. I don't know if it was because all eyes were on him, or I was just overreacting earlier, but I felt much more confident being there. On the bench press I could barely get the 45lb bar up the first time though. I wanted to quit but Justin urged me to continue, the second attempt went up much easier than the first, and the third practically felt light. I maxed out at 95lbs, which Justin informed was great for someone my size. As I lifted more, and had more of that mixture I felt angry, I could feel the blood running through my veins. It felt good to blow off stress and exert myself, and kind of fun to see how far I could push myself. Before we called it quits I ended up deadlifting 160, and 55lbs with a barbell curl. by the end I was panting and slick with sweat. I thought that was amazing, but after each set I stood ogling at Justin as he loaded up more plates on the bar than I could easily count. Watching his muscles work was like porn, but It didn't even look like it was heavy to him! "How do you feel bro?" He asked. "I donno man, fucking..." "Pumped?" "Yeah, Pumped!" "Good, end every session like that. Alright, lets get showered and pack in the protein!" By the time we got to the dining hall I felt my stomach knot, I was starving! That being said Justin loaded up my tray with more chicken, mashed potatoes, and broccoli than I could eat in a few days. I started eating and just kept eating, I wondered where it could possibly all be going after a while. Justin reassured me I wasn't going to get fat, in fact he laughed it off and just said I can't get fat. Now done eating, Justin lead me to the parking lot just a little walk away from the cafeteria. He caught me staring at the rhythmic flexing of his muscular ass but didn't seem to mind, he walked liked he owned the world. "This is it" he said. We had weaved around several cars and arrived in front of an expensive open top red Lamborgini, waxed to a shine. In the passenger seat would have be the hottest man I've ever seen had I not met Justin. A little shorter than Justin (although he must have been well over my height), he wore a tight red polo that hugged his well muscled body, and had a face and smile to die for. He looked up from his phone and said. "Hey beefcake how was the workout, and is this Eric?" "Yup, this is the hunk in coming" "Wait... Loga.." Still in a state of shock, Justin waved me over to the trunk and opened it. Inside was an old fashioned briefcase with a lock on it. "What, you have the nuclear football as well?" "Ha no, here the combination is 588930, open it." I did so, inside was a small mirror, a tape measure, and a gold themed debit card paper clipped to some sheets with banking information. I skimmed over it, and found the pin, routing number, and such. I looked over the next page, it was a bank statement and my jaw dropped, this card had $1,500,000 dollars on it! "You you you, you shouldn't have let me see your..." "Your card." "Huh?!?" I felt faint, none of this could be real, I had to be dreaming! Dreaming that's it, someone must have knocked into me at the gym earlier, I was sleeping peacefully on the ground somewhere. I pinched my arm and felt pain... I felt pain! "Whoa Whoa Whoa there little guy..." Justin had caught me by the arm, "you look pretty pale." A voice called from the car, "I told you he wasn't going to take it easy!" "This is all so much, I think I need to sit down" "Here let me get you some water, can I drive you to your dorm?" "Uh, yeah, that would be great" I said and took a sip. After a moment Justin scooped me up and put me in the car. It was a two sweater so I sat in the lap of the passenger (Logan?). His ample chest made a comfortable pillow, I could feel his rock solid abs running down my spine. But, most pleasurably, between the cheeks of my ass I could feel his fat bulge pressing into me. No, this wasn't a dream, this was heaven! I gave Justin directions to the dorm as we started to talk again. Logan wrapped his muscular arms around me as a seatbelt as we went. "Ah guys really, making me huge is one thing, but this money..." "We're rolling in it, don't worry. Plus you're gonna need that to upgrade your style when you grow out of those clothes. No offence, but your really capitalizing on the geekyness." "None taken. Um say, how did all of this happen, how does this stuff you made work?" Logan spoke in a much deeper voice than I remembered, "Without going into all the... geekyness, I found a simple chemical process of manipulating genetic makeup, its really quite remarkable nobody has found it yet. And now with a patent, I'm the only one who can produce the stuff, its going to change the world you know." "A world full of hunky musclemen?" "More than that! No more disease, no more aging, everyone could be what they want, if only I could make it cheaper." "That sounds... Whoa, wait, you guys can drop me off here!" "At the back? Are you sure?" "Yeah, my room isn't like the rest." "Suit yourself, and... enjoy yourself too!" "Uh yeah, thanks!" Justin handed me the growth powder jar, and the briefcase. Still not quite believing what just happened I watched the two speed off campus before walking to the maintenance door at the back of the building. My room was not like the others. The collage thought it could make a buck off half heartedly converting an unused store closet (located next to the furnace room) into an additional dorm. It was not legally big enough to house two students, so I was left on my own. The walls were made of concreate and the only pieces of furniture were my bunk bed, rug, and desk. I decided to unpack, put the card in my wallet, the powder under the bed, and hid away the briefcase between the lower mattress and the wall, as well as hanging up the small mirror. I paused as to what to do with the tape measure, but decided if I was going to grow, I should make a height log. I dug out a small piece of chalk from my drawer and made my best straight line up the concrete wall. Holding a textbook on top of my head and flush to the wall I made a horizontal mark on the wall and measured it. 5'6" on the dot... that's a quarter inch taller than before! Then my phone alarm went off and I knew it was time to see the one good thing this room provided. You see if I climbed the bunkbed, peered out the window, and looked down the slope flanking the back of the building I could see into the windows of the school pool. And right at 7:00, the hottest girl on campus went in for a dip, Emma Clark. I have to admit, it was pretty creepy, but when you're a sex starved virgin you do these things. I watched as she got in and out of the pool, water pouring down the her curves, dripping off the tips of her large breasts, damn that was hot. Too bad her boyfriend was such a complete asshole, even worse that he was just as hot in his own masculine way. On multiple occasions he had purposefully pushed passed me, called me a dork, did he think he was still in high school?!? Of course I had a crush on him too, Luke was just too damn big and muscular not to be admired! But I could get bigger... Too be continued...

Hey there. Here's a story. It's about muscles and stuff. The nature of desire. The ache of it. But also muscles. I hope it pleases. THE CHAMPION It had been a triumph. He was blowing up Instagram. He was THE cover of every muscle mag that still printed. People would buy copies to commemorate it. The reddit thread already had thousands of comments. ADAM NOVAK: BIGGEST MR. O IN HISTORY He’d only started lifting four years ago, in his early twenties. He only competed for the first time as an amateur two years ago. Got his pro-card last year. Qualified for the O this year. Nine months later, a rookie winner. No one expected it. Lots of people expected him to finish second or third no matter how obvious his dominance, just to make him “work for it” and “earn it” in a year or two. But it became obvious at the show itself: if they’d crowned anyone else, there would have been rioting. He was unlike anyone who had ever stepped on a bodybuilding stage. He was so enormous, it was alarming. Frightening. And he was so young and got there so quickly. The comments online were fast and furious. Things like: “Is there any limit to how big this kid can get?” “What the hell are they feeding him?” “Did a muscle growth experiment escape its lab?” But also things like: “it’s too much.” “Disgusting.” “What happened to old school aesthetics?” “He’s gonna be dead of a heart attack in 18 months.” He put his phone down, caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror across the restaurant where his crew had taken him to celebrate. Fuck, he didn’t look human. Handsome face - he was only 26 - straight nose, big expressive eyes, firm generous lips, Hollywood jawline, thick dark hair kept short, but not too short - just enough to show its curl on his brow. But the rest of him. Fuck. He bulged. He burgeoned. He looked fit to explode, like his skin was barely holding back the giant round forms of his muscles. He took up twice the space of a normal human. Three times the space. He couldn’t move right, he was so huge. His buddy had to help him eat. He knew the stats. Everyone knew the stats. 5’8”. 358 lbs at registration - probably closer to 370 now that he’d been carbed up. 2% bodyfat. 30” arms. 46” thighs. 80” chest. Ramy, Roelly, Hadi, Brandon, Iain, Hunter, all of them were dwarfed by him. His shirt, the only thing he could fit into that came anywhere close to formal wear, was splitting at the seams - literally, it had already torn in two places, small tears, for now. It was custom made. He hadn’t paid for it, the company that made it had volunteered, as long as he did a social media promo. But they made it weeks ago, not expecting him to grow into the show. He had definitely grown into the show. “Where did this kid come from?” Just a little town in southern Ontario, nowhere special. * THREE YEARS EARLIER Adam had to lift pretty late at night because of his job and his classes. He was almost done with the degree. He hoped it’d land him a better job, one that would allow him to lift at a more sensible time. But for now, he showed up at the gym around 11 pm and generally left a little after midnight. It was one of those gyms where members all had a fob to open the door, and there wasn’t always staff on site. This night, the few guys who were there already left not too long after Adam arrived. He had the whole 20,000 square feet to himself. He felt dwarfed by it. He’d been lifting for nine months now, had some newbie gains to show for it, but he still felt out of place. He just looked kind of fit, at best. A little muscle on him but nothing special. He launched into his next set, machine rows, and he really got into the rhythm of it. Slow cadence - he knew not to use momentum, he knew to emphasize time under tension. Pull, squeeze, return, stretch, repeat. His baby lats burned but he kept at it. These are the reps that count, he told himself. This is where the growth is. When he finished, he looked up and saw a bodybuilder sitting on a bench, watching him. Adam was confused - he was certain he’d been alone for twenty minutes or more. He hadn’t heard anyone come in. Had this guy been in the lockers all this time? And he was blatantly staring. Adam took out his phone and toyed with it, hoping the bodybuilder wouldn’t start anything. He didn’t want trouble. He just wanted to finish his workout. If Adam had noticed the time on his phone, or looked up at the clock on the wall, he would have seen that it struck midnight during the set of rows he’d just finished. Adam heard a voice and felt a presence looming. “Hey kid.” His mouth went dry and he looked up. The bodybuilder was huge. Like, pro huge. Some pros went to this gym but Adam rarely saw them because he always came in so late. Adam’s dick began stiffening automatically at the display of bulging pecs, thick veiny arms, quads exploding out of the bottom of tiny shorts hiked high, calves like two footballs clutched by veins like tree roots. He couldn’t help it. The guy was handsome, too. Mediterranean, maybe? Persian? Black hair, dark eyes that were swift and intelligent, perfect tan skin, and the muscles. My god, the muscles. He smelled like testosterone, this close up. “I said hey.” Adam closed his gaping mouth. “Oh uh…. Hey there.” “You wanna get big, huh?” “Um… well…. Yeah.” “Thought so. I could smell it on you from across the room. You’re pretty scrawny but the size of your desire, whoo boy, I’ve rarely seen a desire so huge, not even in the pros.” What was this guy talking about? Adam was worried, this bodybuilder didn’t seem to be in his right mind. He knew a lot of these guys did other drugs, was he hopped up on something? He did have a vaguely coked-up air about him. Adam better be careful not to agitate him. “Oh uh, well, thank you. I’m trying my best.” “I see that. That was a nice set you just did. Good intention. I’ve got a feeling you’re going to get everything you want, and more.” “.... haha, well, I hope you’re right. I definitely want to get huge.” Adam gave his best fake laugh. “You better start your next set. You’re on 90 second rests and it’s been more than 100.” “How…?” “I said start your next set.” His voice was quiet, commanding. Adam gulped, turned his attention to the machine, gripped the handles firmly, and started rowing. Like before he fell into a kind of rhythm, but this time it was deeper. He kept pulling and pulling and pulling. His lats felt like they would burst. But he was merciless. His form remained smooth, controlled. His tempo, slow. He was crying, it hurt so bad. Literal tears mixing with the sweat running down his face. He kept rowing. It burned so bad, worse than anything he’d ever felt. When Adam finally stopped, he released the handles with a sob and let his arms fall to his sides. There was no way to hold them that didn’t make his throbbing lats feel worse. He groaned in helpless agony and looked around for the mysterious bodybuilder who had been talking to him. There was no one else in the gym. Even though he’d been in his own world during that set, that agonizing endless set…. Adam would have noticed the muscle man leaving, right? * A YEAR LATER “Adam, you should totally compete!” “Oh, I don’t know...” Adam shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to acknowledge that he had been considering that very thing himself lately. “I’m serious, man, you’d fit right in on an amateur stage, classic, maybe even cross over and do open as well.” Adam had poured himself into the gym after graduation. He found a job but his focus really wasn’t there - he was competent, but his managers always said he could be doing more, and as the months went by and his muscles continued to expand, they grew uncomfortable with his physical presence. He was handsome, muscular, confident, but there was something off about him, something they couldn’t put into words. The gym was his life. His passion. It was almost like the first nine months he’d spent lifting were a kind of false start - what he thought of as newbie gains were quickly dwarfed by his second year of progress. His friends were right - not only would he not look out of place on an amateur stage, he’d stand a good chance of winning the whole thing. So that’s what he did. The experience of contest prep was hyped up to be a gruelling gauntlet to him, but somehow he never found it that way. He got leaner, his skin thinned, his muscles popped, but he never felt hungry, he never felt exhausted. At first he was concerned because the scale wasn’t going down the way it should - but the mirror told a different tale. “I guess you’re growing into your show. Lucky fucker.” The classic weight limit for someone 5’8” was 182 lbs. The plan for him to do both classic and open was scrapped as his weight never dipped below 185, and indeed crept into the 190s by the time show day arrived. He registered as a light heavyweight. He wore turquoise posers. He blew everyone away. He won his class. He won the overall. He qualified for nationals. His friends were beyond hyped at the after-party. “You’ve gotta do it, man! Do nationals! You’re built for this!” He believed it. He’d never felt happier in his life. That night, back at the hotel, after everyone had left, he stepped into another shower to try and get more of the fake tan off. He knew he’d be shedding it for days to come even after doing his best to scrub it away. He enjoyed the way the water cascaded down his rock hard musculature. His glutes like twin boulders. His pecs like two shields of stone. The veins on his biceps and forearms like veins in marble. His cock throbbed, and he indulged himself; it only took a half dozen strokes before he blew a load all over the hotel shower wall, the hot water turning his cum all stringy. He turned off the shower, enjoying the warm humid air. Slowly he toweled off and stepped back into the room, naked, his skin raw and scrubbed fresh. He stopped in his tracks. Someone was in the room. It was the bodybuilder from the gym. That bodybuilder. “Adam,” he said, smiling. He was sitting in the armchair by the window, just as massive as the first time Adam saw him. Stringer tanktop covering less than a quarter of his tanned, bulging, super heavyweight torso. Dark nips angling downward from the sheer size of his pecs. His lips quirked into a smile. “You’re looking well.” “What the fuck are you doing in my room,” Adam said, the timid pipsqueak from a year ago nowhere to be seen. “Settle down. Relax. And you’re welcome, by the way.” “I’ll settle down when I’m good and ready. Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing here?” “You’ll figure out who I am in time. And I’m here to congratulate you. And deliver the remainder of your prize.” Adam’s eyes flickered to the gimmicky sword he’d been awarded for winning the overall. Amateur shows don’t have cash prizes. What could this guy mean? “What are you, a rep for a supplement company or something?” The bodybuilder’s lips quirked as he held in a genuine laugh. “That’s a new one. No, as I said, you’ll figure out my identity in time. Don’t you remember our first meeting?” “I… I do,” Adam said reluctantly. “Well, I simply asked if you wanted to get huge, and you said you did. Your need blazed like a bonfire on a dark night, you know. Obvious. It practically begged for me to intervene on your behalf. But I do need permission, you know. So I asked. You wanna get huge? And you said you do. So….” the man gestured elegantly, muscles shifting and flexing as he did. “Here we are.” “I don’t understand.” “You will.” And with that, Adam woke up. His head hurt. His mouth was dry. His slow sleeping pulse suddenly doubled as he remembered - the weird bodybuilder! In his room! Talking some kind of crazy talk! Adam leapt to his feet and almost fell to the ground. His body wasn’t like it had been the day before. He was… larger. A lot larger. The same height, 5’8”. The same bones. But his muscles had inflated. At least 25 lbs. He saw himself in the mirror above the TV, his handsome face freaked out, terrified, his chest and ab-quilted stomach heaving with heavy breaths. What the fuck. * SIX MONTHS LATER His work was definitely going to find some excuse to fire him in the weeks ahead, he could tell. When he walked - or, waddled - into a meeting room, their faces screwed up like he had a stink about him. He was outgrowing his work clothes and he didn’t want to invest in new ones if they were just going to fire him anyway. But he had to get money from somewhere. OnlyFans was a surprising help for his finances. He didn’t even have to have sex - just posing, flexing, or even doing normal things like shaving, or preparing food with no shirt on. Sometimes he got his dick out but a lot of the times he didn’t even do that. And people in the thousands paid to watch him, this young guy, just turning 24, handsome enough to be a movie star, with his jaw dropping muscles. The day he was finally let go, for reasons he could probably challenge successfully except he didn’t want to, he celebrated with an OnlyFans post. “Watch me flex out of my work clothes.” All his office attire, going back to when he had been a 150 lbs nobody. One by one he squeezed his muscular body into them and then flexed hard, forcing seams to split, tearing fabric apart. It was like ripping apart his old identity. The old Adam. Adam wasn’t much for social media but he couldn’t keep his physique under wraps any longer. Instagram was a must. He hated it, but the sponsorships he’d picked up since his big win required him to make posts, and the larger his following the more likely they’d be to renew contracts. He had no paycheque anymore so he did his best to lean into it. As Nationals drew near the buzz around him was unmistakable. Instagram is full of bodybuilders who seem like they’re going to blow the competition away on show day, only to finish in the middle of the pack - but everyone was convinced that, this time, for Adam, it would be different. He was the heavy favourite among the online crowd. He’d registered at 194 lbs at his first show. What no one knew was the very next day, after the visitation from the weird bodybuilder in his hotel room, he’d weighed in at 221 lbs. The growth kept coming during the three months of bulking he’d planned before beginning his cut for the Nationals. 250 lbs is a lot on someone who’s only 5’8”, but that’s where he landed before the cut. That’s when he got fired from his job. They just couldn’t handle someone that massive, such a meathead in a professional environment. No one who’s of sound mind would ever do something like that to their bodies. Obvious steroid abuse. Ticking time bomb of roid rage. No one felt comfortable in the office with him. Fuck them anyway. He was making good money from sponsorships and OnlyFans, and he’d be getting his pro card soon. His cut for his second-ever contest began, and just like the first one, the scale was stubborn. It dipped down as low as 243, but it stayed there for a while, and then began creeping up. He was vicious about his diet and cardio. He didn’t cheat at all. But he was growing into his show again. With two weeks to go, he was back at 250 lbs, but so much leaner and sharper than he’d been just a couple months previous. The internet was losing their mind. This wasn’t just a kid who deserved a pro card. Adam was rapidly growing an Olympia-contender physique, right before everyone’s eyes, and doing it at an accelerated pace that beggared belief. He flew out for the show a week early, set up shop in an Airbnb, did his final workouts and a photoshoot at a local gym, went home and ate his prepared meals, updated his instagram and his OnlyFans, played video games, and then slept. Day after day. He waddled into registration exactly 59 lbs heavier than he’d been for his first show. 253 lbs. The guy recording the weights couldn’t restrain himself. “Damn, son.” He looked Adam up and down. “That is a HELL of a lot of mass to be carrying on a 5’8” frame.” “Thanks man,” Adam said nonchalantly, trying not to become overly emotional. He kept a tight rein on things until after the show was over. He knew he was a favourite to win. He knew that pro card was his. But he had to pretend he didn’t know, until it had actually happened. Super Heavyweight. Called to the centre of the lineup within seconds of getting on stage. Stayed there the whole time. Nailed every pose. Adam’s physique was shocking. The official photographer’s camera was going off like a machine gun. He knew this was something special, that pictures of Adam from this show would be well known twenty-five years from now. These pictures he was taking, as this freak of musculature moved gracefully from pose to pose to pose, would be joining the echelons of legendary physique pictorial. Cutler’s quad stomp. Arnold on the beach. And Adam winning his pro card, absolutely mopping the floor with the competition. The after party was glorious. Everyone wanted to suck his dick, metaphorically and, eventually, literally. He should have been exhausted but he felt elated. He felt high, like he was on a drug. He kept pumping his cock into warm willing holes in the hotel room, a frenzy of muscle and lust and dominance. He was the fucking champ. He was the newest IFBB pro. He was only 25 years old. He was hot shit, and he had his whole future ahead of him. He didn’t remember falling asleep. When he woke up it was still dark outside. The room was gloomy, dim. He felt hungover. His balls ached. How many times had he cum last night? Five? Six? More? He groaned and rolled over, intending to lumber into the bathroom for some water - he could drink all he liked now, after all. He froze mid-roll. There was someone else in bed with him. A big lumpy shape, half-seen in the darkness. Denting the mattress. Not a surprise - hadn’t he hosted a victory orgy? But the room was dark, no one else was here, and although there’d been plenty of muscular men attached to his dick last night, this one was bigger than any of them. About the same size as me, Adam thought. The other man blinked awake and smiled prettily. His massive pecs mounded up under his chin as he propped himself up on one arm and leaned toward Adam. “Good morning, beautiful,” he said, showing perfect white teeth that almost glowed in the gloom. “Wh-... what the fuck,” Adam stammered. “Don’t be so shocked. You really ought to learn to expect me by now.” He reached a hand out and stroked Adam’s muscular arm, then his face. Adam didn’t draw away, for some reason. He felt hypnotized by the mysterious bodybuilder. He was paralyzed yet untroubled by this fact. “You’ve done so well. Look at the size of you. You’re really huge now, aren’t you?” “Yeah I’m… I’m pretty huge...” Adam felt himself speak, but it was like someone else was speaking. “I’m contractually obligated to give you an off-ramp here, but fair warning. It’s your last chance to back out.” “Huh?” The bodybuilder smirked. “It’s like their brains shrivel up, I swear.” He resumed stroking Adam’s handsome face, toying with his short curly hair. “I’ll make it simple for you, big guy. You can stabilize around this size. You’ll spend your off-season in the 270s, you’ll compete in the 250’s, you’ll probably have quite the career. I can’t promise what kind of success, because I won’t be involved any longer. In fact, tonight will be the last time you see me. Pity, that. If you take this option, I mean.” Adam whimpered. His cock was throbbing, achingly hard, like a steel beam in the sun, like he hadn’t cum for a month. “The other option is, you stay on this ride and we see just how huge ‘huge’ really is.” Adam felt his mouth open and close. “Guh….” The bodybuilder stroked his face again. “Such a pretty man, really, even without the muscles. So what do you say, kid. Do you want to get even huger?” “Fuck, yes, please, anything, I want to be a monster, I want to be the biggest bodybuilder ever, I never want to stop growing, I wanna grow til I split my skin” Adam felt the words come tumbling out, like a dam inside him had burst. The bodybuilder chuckled, his pecs flexing and dancing. “That’s what I hoped I’d hear. You know that bonfire of desire I said you had inside you? It’s burning brighter than ever, it’s never dimmed. It rages, I can sense it across the eons. I’ll see you next time, handsome.” Then he leaned in and kissed Adam. It was the most powerful kiss Adam had ever experienced. He felt his soul melting. Untouched, his cock began to twitch and dance and spurt cum like a broken sprinkler. Adam moaned loudly, reached out to pull the sexy bodybuilder in closer, and his hands passed through thin air. The man was gone. Adam slumped back onto the mattress, stared at the ceiling for a second. Then, realizing just how disgusting and stinky his mouth must have been during that kiss, that best-ever kiss with that god of a man, rolled over and went to the bathroom for a glass of water and to clean himself up. * Adam shouldn’t have been shocked when he woke up in his hotel room the morning after his show. It had happened once already. And yet… he somehow hadn’t expected it. He was bigger. A lot bigger. Like 40 lbs bigger. 253 lbs is a lot on a 5’8” frame, like the man at check-in said. 290-something, in contest shape? Practically unheard of. That’s beyond Roelly Winklaar size. That’s beyond Big Ramy size. That’s already in a category of its own. He threw himself into the off-season with a vengeance. The mass came, like his body knew no limit. Every set, his freakish muscles filled with so much lactic acid, his eyes would tear up, he would be gasping and moaning, unable to ease the pain. And then his timer would beep and he’d launch into another set, ignoring the throbbing pain, pumping himself ever huger. He grew. And grew. And grew. A member of the 300 lbs club now, rapidly filling out. His shoulders mound up alongside his head, bigger than his skull. His pecs hit his chin when he looks down at them. His walk now an extreme waddle. Every eye staring at him when he goes out in public. Blocking a sidewalk, blocking an aisle at the grocery store. People watch him, mouths agape. Children ask questions. Mommy, what’s wrong with that man? His first pro show, an Olympia qualifier. The discourse went from “how well will he do” to “is he a contender to win it” to “how well is he going to do at the Olympia after he wins this?” He tried to ignore the headlines in the bodybuilding press. ADAM NOVAK PREPARES FOR HIS FIRST PRO SHOW, PROMPTING THE QUESTION: HOW BIG IS TOO BIG A NEW ERA OF MASS MONSTERS OR A ONE-OFF FREAK? ADAM NOVAK He started his prep at 312 lbs. Just like before, the scale was stubborn. It dipped down slowly, stalled, and then began climbing again as the show neared. Adam’s training sessions were almost like trances, now. He’d emerge from the altered space occasionally, and see the pumped, fit to burst muscle freak, face anguished from the lactic acid burn, tortured body slick with sweat and tears, XXXXXL tank top about to explode, veins the size of pencils, lungs heaving for oxygen. He was so massive he could barely get enough air in to fuel himself. He was always winded. His feet hurt from carrying this much weight. His gut hurt from eating so much food, every single day. Even his contest prep diet was enough for a family. He got leaner, and leaner, and leaner. Scarily lean. It was the most shredded he’d ever been. He weighed in at 317 lbs the day before the show. “Jesus,” the guy taking the measurements muttered. “Holy fuck.” Adam’s body seemed impossible, there was no way a human being could carry this much meat. The few people who knew him before, when he was just a normal dude, who were still in touch with him all sent him texts and DMs, worried about his health. It’s too much, Adam. Your body can’t take this for long. Forums and reddit threads were full of predictions of his doom. He must be on grams a week. Getting this huge this fast - kids today are too impatient. He’s going to pay the price for it. The show was a coronation. He was the heaviest guy there. He was the leanest guy there. His proportions were perfect, if of a magnitude unheard of. When he hit a most muscular, the audience actually gasped. The Olympia qualification was his. The celebration was subdued, though. Not an orgy like last time. He didn’t even want to go to a restaurant. He was tired of how people in public gawped at him. He just wanted to chill in the hotel room, smoke a joint, order some pizza, watch some stupid videos on youtube. So, that’s what he and his crew did. The champ gets what he wants. As he said goodbye to the last of his crew, he knew what to expect. He had been expecting this all along. The memory of the kiss in the hotel bed last time stayed with him. It was seared into his soul, a tender spot he couldn’t stop poking at. It was the best kiss he’d ever had. It had been far more than a kiss. “You can come out now, if you’re here,” Adam said to the empty room. “You’re learning,” the bodybuilder said as he stepped out of the dark bathroom. “I’m not that stupid. This kind of thing doesn’t happen in real life, that’s all. You can’t expect people to catch on that fast.” “Can’t I? You lot used to be so much more reasonable before your faith in science overtook the evidence of your senses,” the bodybuilder smirked. “Although I will admit, your science has wrought many wondrous things.” He flexed, then, admiring himself. He’s smaller than me, Adam realized. A lot smaller. “Everyone is smaller than you now, Adam,” the bodybuilder said, answering Adam’s thoughts. “A very small number of them are close, but you’re top of the heap. You’re it. The biggest bodybuilder in the world, in human history. How’s it feel?” “It’s exhausting.” The bodybuilder was silent, and Adam felt compelled to continue. “I can’t even tie my own shoes. I have to turn sideways to get through some doors. Everyone stares at me. I’m always out of breath and my feet hurt. Nothing fits. When I’m not lifting I’m eating, and when I’m not eating I’m sleeping. I have to wear a machine when I sleep so I don’t suffocate on my own meat.” The bodybuilder stared at him, still silent. Was that the tiniest shimmer of pity in his dark, expressive eyes? Finally the bodybuilder spoke. “I told you last time, it was your last chance to back out. There is no escape, now.” Adam was quiet. “I know.” The bodybuilder narrowed his eyes. “That bonfire of need in you….” “Yes?” “It’s still there, Adam. It hasn’t dimmed, at all.” Adam hung his head, his chin in the cleft between his pecs, his arms unable to rest at his sides because his lats were in the way. His legs forced apart by the sheer volume of his quads. “.... yeah.” “You want to get even bigger, don’t you, Adam?” Adam felt his breath shaking and catching. He was trembling. His body couldn’t take this. It was too much. It was way too much. He wouldn’t last another year if he kept growing. This has to end. It has to end now. It… “.... yeah.” Adam heard the sound of a wretched sob from somewhere in the room, the sound of a broken soul. The bodybuilder stepped closer. He reached an elegant finger under Adam’s chin, having to work it into the canyon between his pecs to do so. He lifted Adam’s face. “Son of the earth, the need in you is…. exquisite. It is beautiful. You have the purest need of any mortal I’ve seen, and I have been here for…. For far longer than you can know, my treasure.” Adam felt a tear trickling down his face as the fallen angel’s true form flickered through his disguise. The beauty he glimpsed was painful to behold. “I should not do this. I am here to punish the sin of greed. I don’t know what they’ll do to me. This might be my unmaking. But you, Adam… your greed is no sin. It is purified, somehow. The purest essence of want. Son of the earth, I’ll give you what you want, but it won’t hurt you any more. It won’t sap your life any more. Your skin won’t rip and tear. Your organs won’t fail. Your heart won’t break. You’ll keep growing, son of the earth, and I’ll protect you, damn the cost.” A second tear trickled down Adam’s face as his eyes were locked with the demon’s. The world was shrinking, it was only their two bodies, not even the room around them. The point of contact where they touched was all of reality. Adam’s monstrously overgrown form, obscene and impractical mass, and the demon’s human guise, the pure essence of virile muscular masculinity. The demon leaned in and kissed Adam again. It was like in the hotel bed. The ancient sign of a sealed covenant. The terms of their arrangement had been altered; a new contract was signed. Then, smiling, the demon took Adam by the hand and led him to the hotel room bed. His hands slowly running over the human’s unheard of musculature. The angry red stretch marks where his skin had begun to fail. The crevices where two muscles had run out of room and were now vying for territory. Adam’s ass, the biggest most muscular pair of glutes on planet earth, slowly being prised apart by the demon’s thick foot-long cock, radiating heat, slick, lubricating as it went. He was as good as his word - Adam would not come to harm as long as he was under the demon’s power. Adam felt drugged. He felt cosmic. His whole body was a sexual organ and the demon was touching every inch of it. Their hot breath in unison, mortal and immortal. The demon was inside him, deep inside him, pulsing, filling him with radiant seed, more and more of it. They couldn’t keep their mouths off each other, tongues darting, lips grasping. They wanted to devour each other and keep each other whole. When Adam woke up the next morning, he was alone. He felt elevated; he felt empty. He was 340 lbs. * NINE MONTHS LATER The entire Olympia weekend was a media spectacle. Adam was the biggest name in bodybuilding, not just literally but metaphorically. He’d just been a normal young man three years ago, when a demon had visited his gym at midnight and offered him a deal. Not that Adam understood that it was a deal, back then. But now, after having gained more than 200 pounds of raw beef with no end in sight, he knew it very well. Everyone wanted to know Adam Novak’s training secrets. Everyone wanted to know who his coach was. Everyone wanted to know what next gen roids he had to be taking. They tried to make the press conference about more than him. Soft-ball questions lobbed at the other competitors. They tried to make it seem like a true contest, like anyone else had a shot. Even though Adam clearly dwarfed everyone at the table, hunched over his microphone like a literal mountain of meat, the largest official Olympia track suit looking comically tight, painted on. Several months ago he was already the biggest bodybuilder in history. And he had grown since then, grown a lot. He registered at 358 lbs, still at 5’8”. The video clips of it happening had gone viral. He needed help to get dressed and undressed. He got so pumped backstage that he needed someone to feed him the endless amounts of carbs that his huge body required in the hours before the show - he could no longer touch his own face, or even reach his mouth with a fork. He posed to Sympathy for the Devil that night, the crowd losing its mind. They knew they were witnessing history. Adam felt kind of cheesy. The song choice seemed too on the nose. Adam hoped he was watching. Adam hoped he liked the tip of the hat. Adam wanted to see him grin at the little joke. Adam longed to see him again. What had he said? He might get in trouble? “This could be my undoing?” Something like that. He was supposed to punish Adam, but he had decided not to. He had decided to give Adam everything he wanted and to protect him from the negative downsides. Would he be waiting for Adam at the hotel tonight? Would they make love again, like they had last time? Adam couldn’t stop thinking about it. He realized, in the van back to the hotel, his gargantuan freakshow body taking up the entire back row, that he was in love. He was in love with a demon, his very soul was magnetized to him, and he didn’t know if he’d ever see him again. His heart was pounding as he waddled down the hotel corridor, so overgrown he almost brushed the walls with his beachball delts. It wasn’t the heart attack that internet trolls kept saying would claim him any day, as he grew and grew and grew beyond all reason. His heart was pounding because he didn’t know what was waiting for him. If he didn’t show up…. Adam opened the door. The room was dark. He hit the lightswitch and heard his own tight voice, aching with hope. Aching with need. A simple word, wanting an answer. “Hello?”