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Synopsis: Thomas is back, and he won't stop growing (not that anybody wants him to). Our unnamed narrator continues his written account of his friend's growth, this time from big to huge. He hopes this story serves as inspiration for you to always reach for the impossible. January It was hard to wrap my head around the progress my friend and roommate, Thomas, had made in his first year of lifting. He had gained 103 lbs. of rock-solid muscle, going from a walking stick figure to a competition ready bodybuilder. If someone had told me the scrawny guy I hung out with in college would turn into a bona fide muscle god, I’d have called them crazy. If Thomas had put on 25 lbs in the whole year, with some of it being fat, I’d have been impressed. But to blow past my expectations the way he did, left me scratching my head. There was something special about him. He was a living, breathing muscle growth fantasy and lucky me had a front row seat to his continued transformation (as well as the chance to fuck him regularly). The average bodybuilding enthusiast might have been satisfied with what Thomas had accomplished, or even half of it, but Thomas still felt like he was nowhere near done. His body was a half-finished work of art that still needed much more work in his eyes. One day, while eating an eight-egg omelet for breakfast, he told me, “This year, I’m really going to grow.” I raised my eyebrows and laughed. “What do you call what you did last year?” Thomas smiled. “That was the warmup. This year I’m going to surpass last year’s growth. I’m ready to become a monster. A real-life hulk!” He was shirtless, as he liked to be. I watched him eat, observing the thick muscles in his arms twitch below his thin skin, and his heavy pecs dance when he stabbed his fork into his omelet. He took big mouthfuls, eating like an animal, eager to fill his growing body with more and more protein. He was already pretty monstrous, I thought. I had expected him to continue to grow, of course, but at a slower pace, now that his physique was already so developed. But he wanted to surpass the previous year’s growth? That would take him well over 300 lbs. Just how much muscle did he think his frame could hold? “You should be realistic,” I said. “Fuck realistic, man,” Thomas said after shoveling the last of his omelet into his mouth. “What I did last year wasn’t realistic. I’m a freak. I’m capable of the impossible. I believe it. I can grow as big as I want.” He raised his 20 in arms and flexed. Hard, vein covered peaks rose like mountains and I reached out to give them a squeeze. “If anybody else had said that I’d call them delusional,” I said, “But you are capable of the impossible. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.” Thomas grinned cockily. “You know it.” He rose to take his plate to the sink. “And if you’re worried about my health, you should know I have a physical scheduled next week. Just to make sure everything is alright.” “That’s good,” I said. “I can’t have you dying. How would I afford this place by myself.” I laughed as Thomas came around and put me in a playful chokehold. “Oh, so it’s just my money you like,” he said, as I felt his steel-like muscles squeezing around my neck. “And I though you loved me.” “Oh yeah, that too, of course,” I said while struggling to move his arm. I couldn’t budge it an inch. He had grown stronger than me months ago and liked to show it off any chance he got. I think he got off on the idea of being so much stronger than someone who was much taller than him. “I yield,” I said, and Thomas let me go. “Off to go pump some iron,” Thomas said. I watched his wide back, while struggling to catch my breath. The following week Thomas had his physical, as scheduled. I wished I could have been in the room to see the doctor’s reaction to his new size, but Thomas told me all about it when he got back. “He double and triple checked his charts.” Thomas laughed. “He didn’t recognize me at first, then his eyes nearly bulged out of his skull when he realized I was the same skinny Thomas from a year ago. He was like ‘Someone’s been living in the gym, I see.’” “I bet he’s never seen a patient put on that much muscle in a year,” I said. “He probably had a lot of questions.” Thomas nodded. “He asked what I was eating, and taking, and how often I worked out. I was very forthcoming. I told him right away I was on roids. He didn’t like that, of course, but I could tell he liked my results. He was growing an obvious boner while examining me, and I had fun teasing him with some casual flexing,” Thomas said with a mischievous grin. “He didn’t tell you to stop?” “Nope.” Thomas shook his head. “And I swear he gave me the most thorough exam of my life. He just kept making excuses to look over and feel up every part of me.” “I don’t blame him,” I said. “You probably made his day. So, what was his verdict?” “Blood pressure and everything else was fine. He’ll call me in a few days with my blood results,” Thomas said. “There was one interesting thing, though. I’m an inch taller than I was last time.” I raised my eyebrows. “Really? That’s odd.” “The doctor said it might have been an error in the record keeping or my posture could have improved.” “Yeah, that’s probably it.” I nodded. “It’s not like you’re still growing. Your growth plates would have fused years ago.” “Correction,” Thomas said. “I’m not still growing taller, but I am growing…” He bounced his pecs. “…thicker and wider!” When Thomas received his blood results a few days later, he was happy to report that everything was in the healthy, normal range, except for his testosterone levels, which were well above normal (for obvious reasons), and his creatinine levels which are often slightly elevated in weightlifters. “I’m as fit as can be,” he said, while digging into a whole rotisserie chicken, one of his favorite ‘snacks’. I was glad to hear that. A small part of me was worried something might be dangerously of the charts and he’d have to give up on his quest for mass. I certainly didn’t want that. I wanted to see him continue to progress and grow. Thomas ended January at 230 ripped pounds, up 7 pounds from December.

Chapter 1 The night sky erupted in a blinding flash, followed by an earth-shattering boom. Ollie's world spun violently as the car careened off the road, metal screeching against asphalt. "Mom! Dad!" Ollie cried out, his voice hoarse with panic. The acrid smell of smoke filled his nostrils as he struggled to move. "I can't... I can't feel my legs!" Suddenly, a deep voice cut through the chaos. "Hey! Can you hear me? I'm coming to get you out!" Brock's muscular form appeared at the shattered window, his open flannel shirt revealing a glimpse of his impressive chest beneath a tight tank top. With a grunt, he wrenched the door open. "Easy now, kid. I've got you," Brock said, his strong arms wrapping around Ollie's slender frame. "What's your name?" "O-Ollie," he stammered, wincing as Brock pulled him free. "My parents... they're still inside!" Brock's eyes darted to the front of the car, assessing the situation. "I'll get them. Just stay put, alright?" As Brock turned back toward the wreckage, a deafening explosion rocked the night. Flames engulfed the vehicle, the heat searing against their skin. "No!" Ollie screamed, trying to lunge forward despite his immobile legs. Brock caught him, holding him back. "I'm sorry, kid. I'm so sorry," Brock's voice cracked with genuine anguish. He fumbled for his phone, dialing quickly. "This is Dr. Brock Steele. I need emergency services on Route 7, about 10 miles outside of Millbrook. Car explosion, two fatalities, one injured teenager." Ollie sobbed against Brock's chest, leaving streaks of blood on the white tank top. Brock's arm tightened around him protectively. "Listen, Ollie," Brock said, his tone urgent but gentle. "The ambulance might take a while to get here. I'm going to drive you to the hospital myself, okay? We need to get you checked out." "But my parents..." Ollie choked out. Brock's face was a mask of sympathy and determination. "There's nothing we can do for them now. We need to focus on you. Can you trust me?" Ollie looked up, meeting Brock's intense gaze. Despite the horror of the situation, he felt an inexplicable sense of safety in this stranger's arms. He nodded weakly. "That's good, kid. You're being real brave," Brock said, scooping Ollie up as if he weighed nothing. "My car's just up the road. We'll get you help, I promise." As Brock carried him away from the burning wreckage, Ollie caught another glimpse of the man's muscular chest, peeking out from his partially unbuttoned shirt. Even in his grief-stricken state, Ollie couldn't help but notice the strength and warmth radiating from Brock's body. "Stay with me, Ollie," Brock's deep voice rumbled. "Keep talking. Tell me about yourself." As they made their way to Brock's car, Ollie's world narrowed to the sound of that voice and the feeling of those strong arms around him, a lifeline in the midst of unimaginable tragedy. Ollie's voice trembled as he spoke, his words punctuated by quiet sobs. "I... I just graduated high school. Was supposed to start college in the fall." Brock carefully maneuvered Ollie into the passenger seat of his car, his strong hands gentle as he buckled the seatbelt around the injured teen. "That's great, Ollie. What were you planning to study?" "Medicine," Ollie replied, his voice distant. "My dad... he was a doctor too. Always wanted me to follow in his footsteps." Brock's heart clenched at the pain in Ollie's voice. He reached over, giving the young man's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "I'm sure he was very proud of you." As Brock sped towards the hospital, Ollie stared blankly out the window, tears streaming down his face. "I can't believe they're gone. What am I supposed to do now?" "One step at a time, kid," Brock said softly. "Right now, we focus on getting you better. The rest... we'll figure it out." They pulled up to the ER entrance, Brock jumping out and rushing to Ollie's side. He scooped the teen into his arms once more, carrying him through the automatic doors. "I need help here!" Brock called out, his voice commanding attention. Nurses and doctors swarmed around them, peppering Brock with questions. "Car accident. Possible spinal injury, multiple lacerations and contusions. Parents DOA at the scene," Brock rattled off, his tone professional despite the urgency. Ollie found himself being transferred to a gurney, the bright lights of the ER ceiling flashing above him. He reached out, his hand grasping for Brock. "Don't leave me," he pleaded, his voice small and frightened. Brock caught Ollie's hand, giving it a firm squeeze. "I'm not going anywhere, Ollie. I'll be right here." As the medical team wheeled Ollie away, Brock's reassuring presence never wavered. Even as doctors and nurses worked to assess his injuries, Ollie's eyes remained locked on Brock, clinging to the strength and comfort the man provided. Hours later, Ollie lay in a hospital bed, his body bandaged and his heart heavy with grief. Brock sat beside him, still wearing his blood-stained tank top, his flannel shirt discarded somewhere along the way. "Why did you stay?" Ollie asked, his voice hoarse from crying. Brock leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Because you needed someone. And because... I know what it's like to lose everything in a single moment." Ollie's eyes widened, a flicker of understanding passing between them. In that instant, he felt a connection to Brock that went beyond mere gratitude. "Thank you," Ollie whispered, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. "For saving me. For being here." Brock reached out, gently brushing a tear from Ollie's face. "You're not alone, Ollie. I promise you that." As Ollie lay in the hospital bed, his eyes drifted to Brock, taking in the man's appearance. Despite the blood stains on his white tank top, Brock's muscular physique was impossible to ignore. The fabric stretched taut across his broad chest, hinting at the powerful pectorals beneath. His shoulders and arms were equally impressive, the muscles flexing with each small movement. Even in his grief-stricken state, Ollie couldn't help but notice Brock's rugged handsomeness. The man's chiseled jawline, strong features, and kind eyes created a striking combination. However, given the tragedy that had just unfolded, Ollie felt no stirrings of arousal, only a deep appreciation for Brock's presence and support. Brock's appearance exudes raw masculinity and mature allure. His face is chiseled and handsome, with strong, defined features that hint at his 42 years. Dark, expressive eyebrows frame intense eyes that seem to hold depths of experience. His jawline is sharp and masculine, covered in a light dusting of stubble that accentuates his rugged appeal. Fine lines around his eyes and mouth add character, speaking to a life lived fully. His hair is short and neatly styled, dark and thick, cut close on the sides with a bit more length on top. It's the kind of no-nonsense cut that requires minimal maintenance but always looks put-together. Brock's body is a testament to his dedication as both a scientist and personal trainer. His frame is large and imposing, with broad shoulders tapering down to a solid core. His chest is expansive and well-developed, straining against the fabric of his shirts. His arms are thick and powerful, veins visible beneath the skin, speaking to both strength and vascularity. How I imagine what Brock would look like at this point of story, but less muscular, no abs, less body hair Model reference https://www.instagram.com/sergey.nyzhnyk/ A knock at the door drew their attention as a nurse and doctor entered the room. "Hello, Ollie," the doctor said gently, glancing at his chart. "I'm Dr. Patel, and this is Nurse Johnson. We're here to check on your injuries and get you started on treatment." Ollie nodded weakly, wincing as the nurse began to carefully remove the temporary bandages applied in the ER. Dr. Patel examined each wound, her skilled hands probing gently for signs of deeper damage. "The lacerations are fairly superficial," she noted, "but we'll need to clean and stitch a few of the deeper ones. Any pain or discomfort, Ollie?" "My legs," Ollie said, his voice strained. "I still can't feel them properly." Dr. Patel's expression turned serious. "We'll need to run some tests to assess the extent of the spinal injury. An MRI and CT scan will give us a better idea of what we're dealing with." As the doctor continued her examination, Nurse Johnson began cleaning and dressing Ollie's wounds. Brock watched, his brow furrowed with concern. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked, his deep voice filled with genuine care. Nurse Johnson glanced up, offering Brock a small smile. "Just being here is helping, sir. Support from loved ones is crucial in the healing process." Brock nodded, his eyes meeting Ollie's. In that moment, an unspoken understanding passed between them - Brock would be the support Ollie needed, even if they had only just met. Dr. Patel finished her assessment, making notes on Ollie's chart. "We'll get you scheduled for those scans as soon as possible. In the meantime, try to rest. Your body has been through a lot." As the medical team left the room, Brock moved closer to Ollie's bedside. "You heard the doc, kid. Rest up. I'll be right here if you need anything." Ollie managed a small nod, his eyelids growing heavy. The emotional and physical exhaustion of the night's events finally caught up with him, pulling him into a deep, dreamless sleep. Brock settled into the chair beside Ollie's bed, his muscular form seeming to dwarf the small hospital furniture. He watched over the young man, a silent guardian ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. In that quiet moment, a bond began to form between them, a connection forged in the crucible of shared tragedy and unexpected compassion. As the day progressed, Ollie found himself being wheeled through the hospital corridors, the sterile walls and fluorescent lights blurring together. Brock walked alongside the gurney, his presence a constant comfort in the unfamiliar surroundings. "We're taking you for the CT scan now, Ollie," Nurse Johnson explained gently. "It's a painless procedure, but it's important for us to get a clear picture of your spinal injury." Ollie nodded, his hands gripping the sides of the gurney. The fear of the unknown weighed heavily on his mind, compounded by the grief that still consumed him. Brock seemed to sense Ollie's anxiety. He placed a large, comforting hand on the young man's shoulder. "You've got this, kid. I'll be waiting for you when you're done." Ollie managed a weak smile, drawing strength from Brock's unwavering support. As he was positioned on the CT scanner, he closed his eyes, trying to focus on the warmth of Brock's hand rather than the cold, clinical atmosphere. The scan seemed to take an eternity, the whirring and clicking of the machine filling Ollie's ears. When it was finally over, he was returned to his room, exhausted and emotionally drained. Brock was there, just as he had promised. He helped the nurses settle Ollie back into bed, his strong arms gentle and reassuring. Dr. Patel arrived shortly after, her expression serious as she reviewed the scan results. "Ollie, the CT scan shows significant swelling around your spinal cord. While there's no evidence of a complete spinal cord injury, the swelling is putting pressure on the nerves, which is likely causing the numbness and weakness in your legs." Ollie felt a wave of fear wash over him. "Will I... will I be able to walk again?" Dr. Patel met his gaze, her eyes filled with compassion. "It's too early to say for certain. Spinal injuries can be unpredictable. But we'll be starting you on high-dose corticosteroids to reduce the swelling, and we'll be monitoring your condition closely." Brock stepped forward, his brow furrowed with concern. "What's the next step, doc?" "We'll be admitting Ollie to the hospital for further treatment and observation," Dr. Patel explained. "He'll need intensive physical therapy and rehabilitation to give him the best chance at recovery." Ollie felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, the weight of his situation crashing down on him. Not only had he lost his parents, but now he faced the possibility of never walking again. Brock seemed to sense Ollie's distress. He sat on the edge of the bed, his muscular frame dipping the mattress as he took Ollie's hand in his own. "Hey, look at me, Ollie. You're not facing this alone. I'll be with you every step of the way." Ollie met Brock's gaze, finding strength and comfort in those intense eyes. He nodded, swallowing back his tears. "Thank you, Brock. I don't... I don't know what I would do without you." Brock smiled softly, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of Ollie's hand. "You don't have to worry about that, kid. I'm not going anywhere." As the hospital staff bustled around them, making preparations for Ollie's admission, the young man clung to Brock's presence like a lifeline. The road ahead was uncertain and filled with challenges, but with Brock by his side, Ollie felt a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness. Ollie lay in his hospital bed, his mind began to wander. The trauma of the day mixed with the strong painkillers, creating a hazy state where reality blurred with fantasy. He found himself imagining Brock as the muscular daddy figure he'd always secretly dreamed about. In his mind's eye, Ollie saw Brock's powerful arms wrapping around him protectively, those broad pecs pressed against his back. He imagined Brock's deep voice whispering words of comfort and love, calling him "son" in a way that sent shivers down his spine. Ollie's cheeks flushed with a mix of shame and desire. Here he was, in the midst of tragedy, entertaining these forbidden thoughts about the man who had saved his life. He tried to push the images away, but they clung to the edges of his consciousness, a tempting escape from the harsh reality of his situation.

I have a huge backlog of muscle fic and I’m tossing out a handful of fresh first chapters to see what sparks your interest. The ones with the most likes and comments will get second chapters, so your input is going to be steering the stories that grow. I'm looking for feedback, what you liked, and what didn't do it for you. Thanks for helping me level up on the muscle fic learning curve. __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Hunter’s fingers skim Rex’s pec, but his eyes catch on the massive, silent shapes behind him — the hulks of old Humvees and half-rusted tanks. He breathes in a mixture of Rex’s sweat, and the dry Texas air thick rust and old oil. Behind them, the Boneyard looms, massive machines left to stand like ancient titans, each one marking where power once lived, and still waits. Like Rex’s muscle coiled under his fingertips. He nips Rex’s muscled pec, darting his tongue out to taste the warm skin. And muscle. So much muscle, bared for him, sidetracking him from his mission. “What is this,” he smiles soft, more to himself than Rex. “Are you….bigger?” He nips at the edge of Rex’s pec, his teeth grazing the muscle barely covered in thin white cotton. He’s testing the muscle beneath, trying to feel just how much of it there really is. Rex rumbles, and Hunter feels the smile forming on the quiet lips up above his head. The muscle he’s savoring pushes out, slowly, nudging his teeth. Rex. Hunter senses the silent challenge inside Rex’s calm. This is Rex. The edge of his fingers graze over Rex’s arm, and his mind flicks to the shapes around them — armor-plated giants, silent and caked in rust, waiting to be brought back to life. One way or another. He moves up and finds bare skin at Rex’s collarbone. Skin over a huge mound of delt muscle, pulsing in silence, waiting to be licked. Hunter flicks his tongue out, tasting the warmth of Rex’s skin, the faint salt and heat. The soft tunnels of veins pushing up on his tongue tip, the softer side of power in Rex’s living landscape of muscle. Hunter lands each small dart of his tongue just enough to feel the texture of this muscle — so solid, so damned real under his mouth. Hunger for this man buzzes in his body. Hums in Hunter’s teeth. “God,” Hunter huffs, his breath hot against Rex’s chest, “I could eat you alive, you know that?” Hunter feels big hands curling around his ass, and then a hard, powerful hike directly into Rex’s hipbone. Heat flares inside Hunter’s body, making his teeth tingle. Rex growls, deep and low. “This better not turn into vore. You start that up, I'm hulking out on you.” Hunter stops licking. Heat from Rex’s pulsing hard chest warms his lips. He pulls back. “Wait a second. You…you… can hulk out?” Rex’s biceps quiver and push into Hunter’s shoulders. Rex leans down, a sparking glint in his eye. “Try me, sweetheart. You push it, and I’ll show you exactly what happens when I get bigger.” Hunter’s eyebrow arches, his grin spreading against the solid wall of pec muscle. He squeezes Rex’s pec, hard. “Oh, so there’s a bigger you? Where’s he been hiding?” Rex’s pec hardens and pushes him off. Rex cocks a half-smile, leaning in close. “You think this is my final form?” “I hope not.” Hunter finds Rex’s nipple and bites. Hard. Rex grunts. “Really hope not.” Hunter smiles next to Rex’s pec, blows out a puff of warm breath onto the smooth, veined skin. Hunter licks and bites the shirt-covered delt. There’s enough meat here. Plenty. He sinks his teeth in, slowly, grading his pressure. “Jesus, Hunter.” Rex’s voice drops rough, as Hunter bites muscle, hard, and rakes his fingers into Rex’s lats. “Unngh. You sure you can handle all of me?” Hunter feels the dense warm weight growing in his hands as Rex shifts back, pressing into the Humvee. A low creak hums through the metal, just a whisper—but Hunter feels it, the solid mass of Rex settling firm behind him. “Full… Rex.” Hunter’s smile widens, fingers moving up and pressing deep into the warm, solid swell of Rex’s pec. A little chaos never hurt anybody. “Full Rex, huh? You’re talking a big game right now, but…are you all pump and no pop?” Rex’s eyes narrow. He flexes, just enough to press Hunter’s hand on his chest back, muscle everywhere swelling up. The hard pec bumps against Hunter’s chin. Hunter grins, savoring the feel of Rex — all hot, bothered, and pumped up. Rex chuckles. “Careful, Hunt. I might just show you what ‘hulking out’ really looks like.” Hunter’s pulse kicks up. He’s trying for casual. “Yeah? Are you just going to… expand right here? Break physics, crush the whole damn hummer?” Rex tilts his head, his gaze drilling into Hunter in the way Hunter loves. “You keep testing me, and yeah. You’ll find out.” He flexes again, the shirt straining, threads barely holding. I don’t believe you. But please prove me wrong. Nip, hard. Nip, harder. A mouthful of Rex’s muscle presses up against his teeth, pushing Hunt’s head up and back. Hunter hangs on, but it’s not easy with so much power locked between his teeth, busting to break out. Rex growls. Mmmmm. “For me?” “It's just....I can't really—” Not the answer I want tonight. Hunter seeks the next muscle to bite. Hmm. Hmm. Big pec, delts so big and juicy round they’re begging for Hunt’s teeth. But what’s next? He grazes his lips over Rex’s delts, over the capped shirt sleeve, and finds fresh soft skin over big hard muscle. As he traces his path over Rex’s arm muscles, Hunter’s eyes scan the rows of vehicles, the armored giants looming resting in silence. Somewhere in this wall of metal sits the little piece of gold he’s after, a black box brick waiting for him in the guts of an armored Humvee. Hunt flicks his tongue out, then bites into a mountain of muscle. Ahh. The bicep under his teeth pulses, and hardens, pulses, and hardens. Hunter’s cock wakes up, warming, pushing against his jeans. Rex’s eyes glint with fire that Hunter likes. “Hunt? Keep pushing, and I’ll make sure you feel every inch of me.” A big hand cups him below, firm and warm, holding him steady. Heat builds from the pressure, and deep, steady pleasure rises up into his body. Hunter’s heart hammers. He presses himself into Rex’s body, and grazes his teeth off Rex’s pumping peakt. He skims his warm breath along Rex’s bicep vein, this vein already pumping bigger, already roused from his first bite. Hunter knows that agreeing outright might bore the hell out of Rex as much as it might draw him in. He whispers, “Promises. Big promises.” Goading Rex, real good. He drags his fingers down Rex’s chest, letting his nails just graze the shirt’s already-stretched fabric. Rex’s gaze darkens with heat, and suddenly, he flexes — not just a little. His shoulders roll back, pecs swelling under the tight fabric, pressing into Hunter. Hunter pushes back and rubs his body into Rex’s pumping muscles—thighs, abs, pecs and lats. Rex’s his traps are rising up, pushing against Hunter’s hand, hard. The white undershirt fabric strains, the threads popping somewhere Hunter can’t yet see. Hunter splays his finger wide over Rex’s growing pec, feeling this muscle in his hand pumping and growing with each pulse. It’s not just growing. Hunter feels the muscle growing more dense, more grainy. Thicker first, before Rex grunts, and it surges forward at him. “Oh, fuck,” Hunter snorts, his cocky grin vanishing as Rex’s biceps press outward, filling every inch of space around them. His hands barely cover a fraction of the muscle expanding beneath his fingers. Heat is rushing from his ass up to his neck, catching him off guard. He can feel his thoughts slipping, this sudden arousal hitting him faster than he can brace for it. “Yeah,” Rex growls, his voice full of his own heated pleasure. "Feel me grow." Rex flexes hard under Hunter's palm, the muscle pushing up, with hard density and veins pulsing up with each flex. Rex flexes again. Hunter shivers, heat from the diamond tip of Rex's growing muscle searing through his hand, into his arm, into his body. All the way to his dick. Hunter has to close his eyes shut and groan, just to withstand the heat, the power. Hunter feels Rex's warm wet tongue lapping the muscle around his shaking, gripping hand. Getting off on his own growing muscle. "Mmmm. Feels good, doesn't it?" Rex flexes again into Hunter's palm, and swelling solid and hot under Hunter’s fingers. Rex grips his own pec, squeezing tight, and it looks huge, bigger than when Hunter squeezed it. Rex leans in, close enough that Hunter feels the vibration of his voice. “Still think I’m all show?” Hunter swallows hard, and doesn’t back down. “Oh, hell no.” He snorts, watching Rex’s muscles pulsing against the metal. “But if you keep going…” Hunter’s hand presses into Rex’s chest, fingers testing the hard muscle beneath. “I might not need....my tools to bust into this Humvee.” Rex’s laugh rumbles low, a knowing sound that sends a shiver through Hunter. He leans back just enough, a smirk spreading across his face as his hand grips Hunter’s ass, squeezing firm. “Hold on, Hunt.” His fingers press in, digging deeper, kneading, his fingertips points of heat burrowing into Hunter’s ass muscles. “I don’t turn army green. Or camo. But, thing is, once I get going? I can’t control this.” Rex pauses, letting Hunter feel him. “All this muscle in my face, already,” Hunter brushes his mouth on Rex’s cotton-covered pec, “you’re making me hungry.” Pressing a kiss against the dense muscle, Hunter bites down, hard as hell. Rex groans. His hands tighten on Hunter’s ass. Hunter gasps, can’t help it. He sucks in a breath of air through his nose. Rex’s voice drops, low and thick and strained. “Hope you brought an appetite, ‘cause I’m just getting started.”

Synopsis: An un-named narrator gives the firsthand account of his friend's growth from twig to big, over a span of one year. He wrote it down so it might serve as inspiration to skinny guys everywhere, looking to grow huge. January My roommate, Thomas, and I moved into our new apartment on January 1st. We had known each other since freshmen year of college and hit it off from the start, becoming close friends. After college we each moved back in with our respective families for a few years. When I was ready for independence from my parents, I suggested that he and I get a place together and he agreed. The apartment was spacious, over 1600 square feet with a big kitchen and living room, two bedrooms, and lots of storage space. It covered the whole second floor of a three-story house on a quiet suburban street. At $1900 a month, it wasn’t cheap, but we could manage it. Thomas and I shared a similar personality and tastes. We were both quiet liberals, who like superhero movies and reading good books. Physically, however, we were very different. I was white. He was of Indian descent, with skin the color of caramel. At 6 foot 4, I towered over his 5’ 7’’ frame. While I was no bodybuilder, I kept my body fit with calisthenics and was a solid 195 pounds. Thomas was a rail thin 120. He ate poorly and seldom worked out beyond the occasional pushups and sit-ups. He didn’t look sickly or anorexic, just plain skinny. I was a lot stronger than him. When moving furniture into the place I was able to lift things, he could hardly budge: dressers, desks, hutches. If something required both of us, like a sofa, I would see him struggling at his end while I would hardly break a sweat. “Damn, what’s it feel like to walk around with that kind of strength,” he asked once. I laughed. “I’m not really that strong.” He looked at my physique, my sweaty shirt clinging to the modest muscle I had. “Well compared to me…” I tapped him on the back. “Compared to you, I’m the hulk!” I grabbed him playfully, putting one hand under his armpit and the other on his leg and began pressing him over my head. He was so light. “Woah, dude! Put me down!” He sounded a little annoyed. “Sorry, are you scared of heights?” I laughed. He smiled and shook his head. “Let’s finish moving this stuff Hercules,” Thomas said. Later that month I visited a tag sale and came away with a bunch of workout equipment: adjustable dumbbells that could go up to 80 pounds, resistance bands, a weight bench, and some chains. The lady running the sale gave me a great deal. $75 for the whole lot. I was ecstatic. Combined with the pullup bar and few weights I already had, it made a nice little home gym. It was perfect for me, since I never liked going to gyms. I put all the stuff in the living room and told Thomas he was free to use it whenever he liked. “Thanks, but I’m good,” he said, dismissive. One day I saw him attempt to lift one of the heavier weights. He yanked at it, getting it a couple of inches off the ground, before letting it drop back down. “Maybe you should start with the light ones,” I said. “Don’t want to strain yourself.” He looked up, startled, obviously not knowing I had been watching. “Oh, no. I wasn’t working out,” he said. “I was just curious how heavy they were. You use those for your chest?” “Nah, those are 50s. I can curl those,” I said. “I do chest presses with the 80s.” He nodded. “Cool.” Later that evening we were watching a movie. In one scene, a pair of muscular men were arm wrestling. Their thick, meaty biceps were bursting out of their sleeves. Thomas was wearing a sleeveless shirt, as he only did around the apartment (he would never dare display his spindly arms in public). I glanced over at him from time to time. He was looking at his arms and subtly flexing them on an off as if he were comparing them to the arms of the men on screen. “What do you think I’d look like with muscles like that?” He said, suddenly, while pointing toward the screen. “Well, personally I think all men look better with a little muscle on them, but as far as you building muscle like those guys, I don’t think you have the frame for it.” He was silent for a moment, them blurted out, “I’m tired of being a twig.” I was happy to hear him say that. I had often fantasized about what he would look like with a better physique and liked what my mind’s eye came up with. “Start eating more and lifting weights,” I said. “I think I will.” He looked down at his skinny arms again and flexed. I pulled my sleeve up, held my arm next to his and flexed. It was twice as wide as his and far more defined. “Maybe before the year is over, you’ll have guns like these.” I slapped my bicep and we shared a smile. February Thomas started using my weights. He lifted the lightest ones I owned, the 20s and 25s, doing mostly curls, shoulder presses, lunges, and flies. His lifted six days a week, before or after work, but his workouts weren’t very organized or structured. I had designated days for each body part, making sure to hit each twice a week, with two rest days. I also made sure I was progressing in weight or rep count. Thomas, however, didn’t seem to have a plan. He just did a few reps of this exercise and a few reps of that exercise, hoping results would come like magic. “You gotta push yourself,” I told him. “Workout to failure. Track what you’re doing and each week, go for a little more.” “I thought I was pushing myself.” “Your workouts are consistent, I’ll admit. Six days a week, never missing one. Impressive for someone who never worked out before,” I said, with a supportive tone, “but I think you’d see more progress if you worked out less often, but really killed it, to point where you’re sore the next day.” “I was working up to that.” “Sure, you were.” I patted him on the back, and laughed. “I’m serious. I just didn’t want to jump into it and go overboard,” Thomas said. “Do you want to get bigger?” “Yes.” “Then no excuse.” I walked him over to the weights. “Pick up those 25s. That’s what you’ve been using.” Thomas lifted the weights and held them at his side. He looked at me, wondering what was next. “Curl ‘em.” He did so. “Stop. It doesn’t look too difficult for you.” “They’re heavy,” he said. “But not heavy enough.” I put 35 pounds on the adjustable weights. “Here curl these.” Thomas lifted them up with a grunt. He pumped them up and down and I could tell he was working harder. His body was more tense. His face more strained. “Perfect!” I said. “These are really heavy.” “Exactly.” I looked down at him with a smile. “From now on the 20s and 25s are your warmup weights. I want you to add 5 to 10 pounds to all your lifts starting now.” “Wait a minute.” Thomas put the weights down. “I’m supposed to be warming up?” I face palmed. “Well, maybe not with these fly weight you were using, but once you start going heavier, I would definitely start warming up to avoid injury.” He nodded. “And let’s talk about your diet.” “What’s wrong with my diet?” He asked, “I’ve been eating more.” “That’s not saying much dude. I have a cousin in the second grade that eats more than you. Adding an extra bowl of Fruit Loops, or two extra donuts to your day isn’t going to cut it. Muscle is made of protein. You like chicken and beef, so eat more of that. You see what I eat.” “Yeah, well you’ve got 70 pounds on me.” “Thomas, Thomas, Thomas!” I slung an arm over his shoulder. “You’re not eating for the size you are, my friend. You’re eating for the size you want to be. A philosopher once said, ‘Eat big to get big.’” “And which philosopher was that?” Thomas smiled. “Swolistotle.” We shared a laugh. Thomas took my advice and one day he came home from the grocery store with bags of frozen chicken tenders, chicken nuggets, and meatballs. I would have preferred to see raw, whole foods but he didn’t know how to cook, so I understood why he got the ready-made stuff. He also ordered a 12-pound bag of chocolate mass gainer off of Amazon. During the last week of the month his workouts were intense. He pushed himself harder than he had all month, grunting like a beast, lifting as heavy as he could. His workouts were long, and he’d walk away from them soaked in sweat. The eating was a different story. He’d fill a plate with food and struggle to finish it, often letting the half-eaten plate sit in the refrigerator until the next day. “Just keep pushing yourself,” I said. “Eventually your stomach will stretch out.” “I don’t know man. I’ve never eaten this much fucking food in my life. It’s harder than the lifting.” I suggested he watch eating challenge videos on YouTube for inspiration. I also suggested the names of several fitness Youtubers I found knowledgeable and entertaining. He said he’d check them out. At the end of the month, he weighed himself on our bathroom scale and found that he had gained 2 pounds, now weighing 122. I knew it was probably just ‘water’ weight from the increased eating he had done in the last week, but he was so happy about it, I didn’t say anything to burst his bubble. I simply congratulated him. It was a start and I saw good things coming for him in March. March Thomas became obsessed with fitness youtubers, studying their habits and absorbing as much of their knowledge as possible. He read article after article on muscle growth, supplementation, diet, and weightlifting. It became his goal to find the most efficient techniques to build muscle and it looked like it was working. I saw him flexing shirtless in front of the large mirror in our living room. He was beginning to get quite toned. His meals increased each week. A bag of chicken that would have lasted him 2 weeks before, was now gone in 4 days. “How much protein are you getting?” I asked him one day in mid-March. “200 grams.” That was more than me. I was impressed watching him force down meal after meal, even when I could tell he didn’t want to. After a huge dinner, twice as big as any meal he would have eaten months ago, I would find him recline on the couch with a hand on his distended abdomen looking uncomfortable. And still, an hour later, I’d find him in the kitchen making a massive protein shake and chugging it down, determined to get more calories and protein in him. Determined to grow! He had taken my advice about working out hard and pushed himself 5 days a week, doing as many sets, with as much weight as he could lift. His shirts and sweatpants would be soaked through with sweat, clinging to his lean frame. His little muscles would be pumped to the max and aching. He said he kind of like the pain, however. It made him feel like he was doing something. Tearing down his muscle fibers, so he could build them back up bigger and stronger with all the food he was eating. By the end of the month, he was up an impressive 6 pounds. Now 128. “The newbie gains are starting to kick in now man,” I said. “Keep it up.” “Oh, I plan to.” He did a double bicep pose. “I’m hooked.” On the 31st he received a large box in the mail. He bought it into the kitchen and began emptying it on the counter. I watched in shock as he pulled out bottle after bottle and bag after bag of what must have been $350 in supplements. Creatine; BCAAs; Citrulline malate; nitric oxide; casein; Glutamine; and more. He turned to me and grinned. “I’m going for 8 pounds next month.”

[A/N: Sorry there's no growth yet aside from an imagine spot, but take a good look at the main tag - it's coming in due time. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy!] I plunk down the cash on the granite counter. “I want a year’s membership.” The man at the front desk (Colton, his name tag says) is surprised. I can see why; when you run a rust-bucket gym, you don’t exactly see people built like me there, let alone signing up. “Uh, sure? Not sure why you didn’t say ‘hello’.” “Small talk isn’t going to sell me on working out here. I made up my mind a while ago.” Months and months ago. “Okay, just fill out this form and you can come back here.” He gives me a bog-standard contract and a shitty 25 cent pen, the ink almost gone. Address. Payment method (taken care of). State ID. My parents wouldn’t let me even THINK about driving a car, but I at least have something. One that somehow makes my face look even rounder and more cherubic than it already is, and one with the shoulder-length hair they thought was “cute”. God, I hate that word. I save the name for last, get it all over with at once in case my ID wasn’t enough. Casey Anderson. Yep… that’s me. I hand over the form, he presses a few keys, and we walk over to the free weights area. Not that it’s far. You can count the cardio machines on one hand, and the sole TV hasn’t been touched in almost a decade. Certainly explained Colton’s beer gut. I can walk faster than him, for fuck’s sake, and I’m almost half a foot shorter than him and even chubbier. “You look you’re new to exercising.” No fucking shit the guy with C-cups, a massive soft belly, thighs bigger around than a skinny man’s waist and a fatter ass than most women who has never seen muscle definition when looking in the mirror is a beginner. At least he’s offering to walk me through the basic barbell exercises. I’ve already researched form before I left for college, but that was late at night in private browsing so I didn’t get an earful from my parents about how I’d invariably get crushed under the bar and die, or trip and fall into a ravine, or break a bone doing yoga. Might not hurt to get a refresher. “Sure.” “Okay, so you wanna start with the bar at eye-level, feet flat on the ground, back arched like this…” Standard stuff. He pounds out 12 reps with the empty bar like it’s nothing, probably because it IS nothing. He gets up and walks behind the bench. Now it’s my turn. Arch my back, and… oh fuck. (One…) 45 pounds is more than I thought it would be. (Two…) I’m less than I thought I would be. (Three…) The bar is pushing into my saggy moobs with every rep. (Four…) A few months ago, they’d have bumped into my breast buds. (…Five…) I just got cleared to exercise after my gynecomastia surgery (…Six…) and it’s embarrassing how much strength I’ve lost in just 6 weeks. (…Seven…) I was at least able to do “girl push-ups” (…Eight…) albeit in private so they didn’t think I was ruining my knees. (…Nine…) Colton’s hands are getting closer to the bar. (…Ten…) I fucking know I should be able to rep this. (…Eleven…) I push one last time. It stalls. Stagnant. Colton finally grabs it on either side of my hands. No. “Let go.” He obliges. I arch my back even further than before, and the barbell resumes its steady ascent. “I’m not… fucking… DONE YET.” It reaches its apex. I move it just a hair towards Colton and my arms finally give out, the clank resonating throughout the gym. His blue eyes are wide with surprise. I get him. You expect that kind of now-or-never effort from a massive, lean bodybuilder, not someone as squishy and pampered-looking as me. It shouldn’t be surprising for long. This should be my new fucking normal, my body changing to reflect who I am on the inside. And what I am is a fucking predator, rugged from a life of kicking ass and taking names, the unquestioned alpha whose very presence inspires terror and lust, people asking, no, begging me to plunge my massive, throbbing manhood into their tight quivering holes and fill them with – great. Now I have a boner. Good news: nobody can see it. Bad news: I remembered that it’s 2 inches hard. Reality sucks. For now. “How the hell did you-” “I wanted it.” “Well, be careful. You need to have gas in the tank for the rest of the workout, haha.” I don’t see how that’s funny. --- “Alright, let’s finish with squats, got that Casey?” FINALLY. You couldn’t have done this before the snatch & clean? By now, he’s warmed up enough that this is his workout for the day. Turns out he’s pretty solid under the fat. His forearms show a surprising amount of thickness and shape as he loads up the bar, even if he probably hasn’t seen a vein in years. His back looks big and broad as he walks under the bar. His thighs are firm and show the shape of his thick quads as he begins to rise back up. He’s too old for me, but he’s easy on the eyes. He re-racks the bar and all the weights, sets the holds to a part of the rack that’s a lot less worn-down than the rest of it, and gives me the floor. He said to only do sets of 5 for this. He says it’s to improve my strength. I think he thinks I have none. I’ll prove him wrong. Feet hip-width apart. (One.) Knees behind toes. (Two.) Bar path vertical. (Three.) Keep your knees from bucking inward. (Four…) Explode upward. (Five!) …Holy shit, that was easy. “Atta kid! That’s probably your strongest lift. Hell, you should probably put some weight on the bar next set!” Wait, already? “…How much?” “Ten pounds oughta do it.” God, I actually get to put weight on the bar for the first time. And it won’t be the last. (Dismount.) 55 pounds to start with. (One.) Add 5 every other day and I’ll be at 135 in less than 6 weeks. (Two.) Another 3 months and it’ll be 315. (Three…) Fuck, I’ll be strong. (Four…) Just imagine what that will feel like. (Five.) “Nice, nice! That was more challenging, huh?” This is the most I’ve felt alive in years. “Sure was.” “How about you stay there for your other sets?” Damn it. Soon. --- Of all the time for Percy to use the bathroom, it’s this one. I swear to God the guys in charge of pairing up roommates do this on purpose. Okay, I hear the faucet, he’s probably close to done. He opens the door. “You’re really serious about the fitness thing?” How can be so fucking dense? I swear to God the dumb blonde stereotype is gender-neutral these days. “Did you think I stocked the minifridge with chicken and broccoli for shits and giggles? Look at me. That’s not something I did before moving here.” “Okaaay then, suit yourself. I’ll get started on homework.” As he walks off, I can hear him mutter “At least he’s only going to do this for a week or two.” Prick. Mine’s been acting up today too. Must be the workout. Better take care of it if I’m getting my pre-labs done. I take my phone out of my pocket, then strip off my clothes. Okay, don’t look in the mirror, don’t look in the mirror, don’t look in the… good, I got the lotion out. Now for the visual aid. I pull up Cliff Renegade’s socials. Fuck, he uploaded another shirtless hiking photoshoot… God, he looks so rugged in those. That rough layer of dark stubble covering his sharp jawline… Those strong, muscular, veiny arms… They have to be at least 18 inches across. That hairy six-pack… And those pecs, so thick-yet-flat... I bet people are joking when they call his tits. And that bulge, dear God. I’d fucking kill to have that in my pants. Maybe then I’d be able to jerk off with more than 2 fingers. Okay, that was a buzzkill, next image… Fuck me, his back’s gotten even bigger and broader and craggier since last time. And those legs look like sheer power instead of the blubber I have. And Jesus Christ in heaven his fucking perfect toned bubble butt is filling out those shorts. God, I want to rail that ass, my cock making him whimper, his feet on my shoulders, oh God and they’d have gotten bigger with the rest of me, I’d look like a breeding stud, just getting leaner and stronger, my cock swelling to dwarf his, just getting bigger, bigger, bigger bigger bigger bigger BIG- Fuck imagine me filling his ass with load after load of my hot cum, his hole just dripping with – crap, looked down. Hey, 2 pumps usually only happens when I’m pent up. Maybe I’m moving in the right direction. But right now, I had better clean up. After all, I’m not fit enough to be sexy when I’m sweaty. Yet.

Hi all. Been offline for WAY too long now. I hopefully have a bit of spare time again, so I’ve revisited some of the characters and continuing Vaccinated. (And, yes, I have other stories on the go - haven't forgotten.) If you haven’t read it, you’ll almost certainly get more out of this one if you read that one first. A refresher might be helpful too, as there will probably be lots of callbacks and interwoven story lines. Obviously heavy spoilers here if you haven’t yet read the first one. Consider this a continuation following on immediately from the events in the first story, before the Epilogue. Events here may or may not progress matters to the same point in that Epilogue - so a sort of alternate history. Hope you enjoy. As before, I only have a vague outline of a story - I’m making the rest of it up as I go along, so fair warning, the story could include almost anything. If you’re easily offended or triggered, then maybe avoid this one. I welcome any feedback and will work in any suggestions you might have as it goes along. Delivery will likely be a fair bit slower than in the past, but I’ll try my best to keep chapters coming in on the regular. ~~ONE~~ Jake’s timing was exquisite; perfection. He could feel the crescendo, the approaching tsunami about to break, and he wasn’t about to miss the opportunity to experience the pleasure his partner’s ejaculation was about to unleash on his dick. Undulating, peristaltic waves of muscular contractions milking his shaft, coaxing the breeding load from deep within his heaving, roiling balls. Jake’s cock fully plugged the tunnel, his cock’s sensitivity heightened by the tight embrace along the entire shaft from tip to pubic bone. He pulled back slowly, deliberately, the head of his massive cock raking against the tunnel’s walls, tweaking the prostate, eliciting a deep, resonant growl in his partner that vibrated throughout his entire body, increasing the sensations and bringing the coming flood to the brink. He stopped as the head reached the opening, enjoying the feeling of the ring of muscle quivering against his fraenulum, his partner’s growl increasing. Jake’s heavy, pendulous balls seethed, ready to unleash their prodigious load. Squatting slightly, he adjusted the angle of his cock so the head would smash his partner’s prostate as he rammed in all fourteen inches down to the pubic bone. The separate muscles of his massive quads stood out in stark relief, vascularity pulsating and engorged, the massive root running along his inner thigh branching out to feed power to every muscle. He flexed his cock, watching, enraptured, as it swelled even bigger, became even harder, the veins flooding it with blood, steeling the shaft and sending bolts of exquisite pleasure spreading throughout his godly body. Jake’s core tightened, the globes of his perfect arse contracting and squeezing as he slammed his cock in as far as it would go, and then further. As he smashed past the prostate, the tsunami was triggered. It was Jake’s turn to groan, as his partner’s orgasm and ejaculation began, massive waves spreading up his shaft, tingling, more bolts of electric pleasure sending him wild. As Jake slammed in as far as it would go, his balls slapped into his partner’s arse, his orgasm contracting and pulsating muscles throughout his pelvic floor. The hole clamped shut around the base of Jake’s shaft, a natural cock ring further swelling and hardening the already diamond-hard cock. As it swelled, his massive cock pushed harder against the walls of the tunnel, increasing the strength of the muscular contractions as it struggled to contain and eject the monster invading its depths. Jake’s eyes rolled back as his partner’s cock pumped out splashes of thick, creamy cum. As the first few arcs of cum splattered against his partner’s pecs and abs, a large glob settling in his thick, dark beard, Jake allowed himself to ejaculate, his own muscular contractions mingling with those of his partner, heightening their ecstasy. Jake’s balls, so eager to unleash their load, rose up, and his cock somehow swelled and hardened even more as his ejaculation began. The pressure exerted along the length of his cock, and especially by the ring of muscles clamped around the base of his shaft made it more difficult for his cum to make it through all fourteen inches, causing high pressure spurting jets of cum to spray deep within, the massive load contained by the swollen head plugging the tunnel. Even as they both continued ejaculating, Jake leaned in for a deep, passionate kiss, the taste of cum on his lips adding to his explosive wave of orgasms. *** “Get out,” Jake said, as he stood up and went to shower. “Fuck, mate,” he breathed heavily, still recovering from the orgasm, “you were mind blowi–” “I said, get out.” He didn’t even turn back. “Can I at least get your number? I don’t even know your name…” He trailed off, distracted by the incredible view of Jake’s naked body walking to the en suite. The X shape, his glorious arse cheeks, sitting atop massive ham-hock hamstrings, the sweep of his quads visible even from behind, his back muscles mounding and rippling as he walked, roadmap veins - everywhere he looked, splendour upon perfection. Jake ignored him. The cumrag, having served his purpose, already forgotten. Despite his swelling dick - how could you not get hard at that view, he thought? - he hurriedly dressed, the cum covering his abs and chest already drying, sticking to his shirt, and left. **** Brad, Amber and HE were sitting in Brad’s living room, regrouping and discussing the recent events and the fallout. “Can you still sense him?” Amber asked. They all knew which 'him' she was referring to. “Yes…” He hesitated, “…he’s having sex.” It was a very odd sensation, having his best friend’s subconscious as a stream in part of his brain. Despite everything, Amber and HE both blushed. Amber, in particular, was still trying to process her feelings about Jake. She could not let go of the fact that they meshed perfectly, their sex on a level she had never, and almost certainly would never, experience again. But, equally, she could not forget his treatment of her. His callous disregard, the violence against her without so much as a second thought. Yes, he was under the effects of the vaccine, but was that merely amplifying an existing tendency? She did not know, and the conflict was gnawing at her. What made it worse, she could never discuss it with him. Jake could not - must not! - ever know or be reminded of his rampage. They all feared if he learned what they did – what he did – that he would try to regain his abilities, and his reign of terror would resume. She nuzzled into Brad’s strong, comforting embrace, his Herculean arm around her. He was no Jake, it was true, but he was kind and loving, the sex was fantastic (though, of course, not the perfection she had with Jake), and his body was phenomenal. And, yet, she still could not shake the thought and feelings - he was no Jake. **** As Jake’s orgasm erupted in a corner of Brad’s brain, his own dick chubbed, and his mind wandered, lustful thoughts – of tits, of arse, of legs for days, of vascularity and muscle – flooded his brain, like cumshots pumping hot man cream, flooding holes. Amber nuzzled into him, the feel of her pert, luscious tits pressing into him causing lustful fire to tingle through him, making a beeline for his cock. He smiled. Not for the first time he silently thanked Jake, his best friend and, in many ways, his saviour. If Jake had not convinced him to break his vow of celibacy, he would not have met Amber. Not since Angelina had he felt such feelings for a woman. Amber would never replace Angelina - nobody ever could - but Amber was a mighty fine substitute.

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.

The Wishing App The day he first noticed the app on his phone, he didn't think much of it. 'Just some random bloatware,' Jace thought. "Your Wish" sounded so scammy, but curiosity got the best of him. Against his better judgement he tapped on the colorful icon. Immediately it began by asking to use his microphone, which he allowed and then... promptly crashed. 'Huh, figures.' Jace slid his phone back into his pocket as he walked into his gym, focused on making the best of his latest endeavor. He had been going again for a few months after starting and stopping a few times in the past, usually getting frustrated at his perceived lack of progress and calling it quits. He had decent looks and a body to match, but it wasn't the body he wanted. Making his way to the gym floor he yearns to have a body like the gymbro alphas that surround him. Despite the fact that they intimidate him, he is drawn in by their energetic, cocky auras. Strutting around the gym in their stringer tops. Somehow always in peak condition. Cuts like diamonds covered in paper-thin skin. Jace quietly makes his way to a chest press trying his best to not draw attention to himself. His featureless body aiding in the effort. He's really committing himself this time around. Doing everything right, he thinks, but just like the last few times, he fails to see the progress he desires. In the corner of his vision, he spots one of the regulars in the midst of his daily mirror selfies. He pulls up his top to show off his tight abs and gives the camera the look the says "you wish you were me" tongue out and all. With a sigh, Jace quietly mutters to himself "gosh, I wish my body would just grow muscle." *PING* He pulls out his phone to check the notification, but nothing was there. In fact, though he didn't realize it, it was less than nothing as the mysterious app had disappeared. Thinking nothing of it, he starts his set. Over the course of his visit, Jace's attitude brightens up as he starts having the best gym day of his life. Every set he starts breaking his own personal records without breaking a sweat. And the pump, oh my god the pump, for the first time ever he was starting to see the smallest hints of something growing under his skin. He gave it his all for every exercise, for once not caring what the others around him were thinking. Unlike his normal routine, he stops by the mirrored wall on his way to the locker room and checks himself out. Jace doesn't know what has suddenly gotten into him, but he feels like superman. He's drenched in sweat from his workout, his skin glistening to highlight the fruits of his labor. It was the same old him, he thought, but for some reason, he looked and felt a little *firmer*. Things only got better from Jace's perspective over the next few days. He couldn't wait to get back in the gym every day. It was quickly becoming his main focus and for good reason. The results. It's like he had finally hit a tipping point. Every day he seemed to illogically be getting bulkier and leaner at the same time. He was ecstatic at his progress, enough to not make him question how he's growing so much and so quick. Jace nearly shot a load on the gym floor the first time he lifted his shirt and saw a set of abs. His dream was finally becoming true and his attitude was reflecting that. As his muscles swelled, his confidence and cockiness did as well. Inversely, his clothing shrunk. The only thing Jace would dare be seen in now is the most revealing or tight clothing. His wardrobe was filled with the latest from Gymshark, Vanquish, or Jed North. All designed and tapered to show of the perfect aesthetic douchebro physique. A physique, which only a month later, he was rapidly approaching. At his latest post-workout mirror session Jace sizes himself up with his former idols realizing how similar his physique has gotten to their own. Thick, but firm, pecs give way to softball delts. Beneath, his shredded six pack has only been getting deeper and tighter since that first day they appeared. His arms rest on his tapered lats, juicy and pumped. He loves tracing the network of veins up his forearm and across his bicep. He swears he can see it pulsing to feed the engorged muscle. Not one to neglect his legs, especially in the short-shorts he likes to sport most days now, his quads and calves are solid and proportionally built. Say it with me kids "this is aesthetics." Another alpha walks up next to Jace to follow suit in his own self-gratification session. He and Jace trade knowing glances that only two alphas can. Non-verbally acknowledging the feeling only they can know. The feeling of inhabiting a true musclegod body like theirs. He's finally on their level, the feeling of acceptance and pure manliness washes over him. Jace makes a note to switch up his routine to maintain his new body of his dreams. Acknowledgement at the gym is one thing, but just being in public is another when you possess a shredded, lustful body like Jace. The best part are the stares. Some from the corner of someone's eyes and some not even trying to hide it. Can you blame them? His body is a sight to see, enhanced even more by his flashy wardrobe. Let's face it, everyone wants to be him, be in him, or have him in them. To Jace, the high is absolutely intoxicating. Jace finds difficulty switching up his routine in the gym as intended. He has the perfect body, now all he wants to do is maintain, but that's easier said than done apparently. No matter what he tries in the gym the next few days, he still finds himself giving it 110% and packing on even more lean mass. He tries first to lower the weight, to tone instead of build, but somehow finds himself upping the weight back up past his previous high. Searching his mind, he can't even recall changing the weight, but nonetheless he finds himself cooling down after a beastly set with the peg firmly stuck higher in the stack than he started. The same goes for trying to lower the reps or sets. It's like his body is on autopilot, pushing through the heavy workouts only snapping back into reality when they're done. Jace decides to switch up tactics and skip the gym entirely. He hoped that would allow him to clear his head and chill out. Chilling was unfortunately not on the agenda as he found himself again at the gym, questioning how he even got there. He takes stock of his body at his now compulsory post-workout mirror session. His designer athletic clothes are now looking absolutely sucked to his frame, his muscular trajectory not slowing down despite his efforts. He was clearly graduating from aesthetics to classic physique. It's bigger than anything he could have ever desired, he thought, but the proportions were still there. Everything had taken on considerable girth. Especially his pillowy pecs threatening to rip through his Jed North compression top at the slightest flex. He tries to convince himself that he's okay with his latest developments, but even if that were true he still has the nagging thought in the back of his mind of when this will stop. He thinks it over the next few days, in between his mandatory gym sessions. Wracking his brain during his moments of clarity at the gym watching his muscles inflate even larger. It dawns on him while he takes a breather on the weight bench. 'It's almost as if my body is just growing muscle and taking over no matter what.' That thought rattles in his head as he remembers... the app! and his seemingly benign wish. Jace scours his phone while at home later, predictably unable to stop the flow of the workout earlier despite his eagerness to find an end to his current situation. He can't find the app anywhere. He searches online for hours to find anything about it, but comes up dry. His search only stopping in his tracks as he feels the desire to get back to the gym build up in him. He gives in, feeling powerless to do anything else. A few months later a shockingly massive man is waddling down the street to his third gym session of the day. It's Jace, not that anyone who knew him mere months before could tell you. He's nearly unrecognizable with the amount of muscle amassed on his frame. His wardrobe has changed up again out of necessity, now a constant rotation of only the largest gym-branded t-shirts or tanks and the baggiest shorts he could squeeze his inhuman quads and glutes into. Despite the increase in fabric, the amount of skin he now has on display 24/7 has only increased. It's a different feeling being in public as a waddling meat parade. The stares are still there, but it's no longer lust behind them. For most passerby it's a mix of shock and disgust. He's sure many are questioning why someone would do this to themselves, sacrificing any vestige of normalcy in pursuit of more and more muscle and how he could be so shameless about showing it off to the world. He wishes he could tell them he didn't want it either, but his actions paint an opposing picture. Squeezing through the gym doors Jace receives a similar reception to even the muscle-obsessed gym goers. He looks around at his former idols turned former equals, now souring to his ever-increasing size. Even to them, there's a limit and he blew past that over 100lbs ago. His mirror sessions are now an event for the gym. Not out of admiration however, more like rubber-necking the scene of a car crash. He waddles over to the mirrored wall with even less mobility than when he got there with his muscles pumped so full, smatterings of red and purple bruising highlighting the beating he just put them through. Anyone else posing quickly clears out, not wanting to be a passenger in the impending display. From afar, their eyes don't leave Jace's figure though. The entire gym could do nothing but look on as the sweaty pile of muscles began his routine. Jace's body starts by stripping off his drenched tank and shorts. A process that takes minutes and many failed attempts to grasp at the clothing with his stiff, engorged muscles colliding with each other. He stands there in only his boxers, looking more like some skimpy briefs with his bulging quads pushing them up so much and his glutes stretching them so thin. His audience stands in awe at the uncovered sight, not that there was much left to the imagination with his outfit before. Regardless seeing the complete picture will leave anyone speechless. He stands, dripping in sweat, and grainy, veiny, dense muscle. You can watch his whole body pulse wildly through his paper-thin skin, his heart racing blood through his brutalized muscles. Just watching his chest and abs heave to fill his lungs with air can put you in a trance. Muscles dancing in sync from the simple motion. His body raises his arms info a front double bi, sucking in his stomach with his powerful abs. His pecs threaten to suffocate him being pulled so tightly against his chin. Jace's already expansive width exaggerated by the unearthly mass he calls his arms, rock hard and flexed. Next, he moves down into a rear lat spread or whatever he can best attempt with his arms struggling to meet his waist. He can only slightly see his lats flare out from the front, mostly being obstructed by his bloated appendages. The real show is going on behind for the whole gym to see. A mountain range building and firming up on his back, supported by the most biggest and most striated glutes anyone has ever seen. The thought of running your hands over them providing some the most orgasmic pleasure, while leaving most with the bitter taste of disgust. The show is capped off when his body moves into a most-muscular. He plants his feet down firmly to flex his quads, almost losing balance while shifting his stance to accommodate his hardening sequoia-like legs. His abs crunch wildly while his biceps inflate with sickening size. Throughout all of this, Jace is inside merely as a passenger. Upon release of the pose, Jace fades back in. The monster quietly redresses and waddles out of the gym without saying a word. Without acknowledging the traumatizing display he just released onto the normal gym-goers. Most won't admit it, but they've gotten used to it. He'll be back in a few hours anyway. Jace sits down at the leg press and begins pumping his already massive quads. As he begins, his facial expression scrunches. It could easily be written off as normal pain from an incomprehensible workout performed by a mass-obsessed muscle monster, but there's something else there to the keen eye. It's Jace... screaming internally for this to stop already. He had no interest in being this caricature of a bodybuilder, far surpassing what anyone could have thought the human body is capable of... You'd never know that from the outside looking in though. His careless wish would make sure of that. --- There's just something so hot about someone finding disgust the musclegod they are forced to become. I couldn't even imagine.

Sam, the Unstoppable Chapter One Sam thought he had won the lottery. His 19 year old boyfriend was a real-life, bulging with muscles, bodybuilder. He discovered his love for muscle when he was 12 and stumbled across a YouTube channel of a well-known professional bodybuilder. That day, he spent hours falling down a rabbit hole of huge, freaky muscle and never looked back. Sam however, was the farthest thing from muscular himself. While his love of muscle grew over the years, he was 18, 5’8” and a skinny 153lb. In fact, aside from his boyfriend, Sam didn’t have much going on in his life. He dropped out of collage after one year, his parents allowed him to keep his small apartment on the condition he got a job. Sam begrudgingly found a job at a big-box fulfillment warehouse that kept him living on his own. The job was easy so Sam didn’t mind too much. With his parents paying his rent, his job provided him money for video games and takeout, pretty much all Sam did when not working. When Ben popped up on the hookup app, Sam almost didn’t swipe. Sam assumed, like most fit guys, Ben would be uninterested in a shrimp like him but to his surprise, they hit it off immediately. Sam couldn’t hide is love for Ben’s body and Ben loved the attention Sam showered on him. Ben was 19, 5’10” and 185lbs when they met. He was thinking of entering his first bodybuilding competition which Sam encouraged with abundance. As Ben packed on more size, reaching 196lbs, Sam was in heaven. As Ben started his diet, he became more lean and shredded and while Sam missed his larger mass, he was equally attracted to Ben’s changing body. A week before his competition, Ben was running through his posing routine at Sam’s place. He was down to 173lbs but what he had lost in size was replaced with a striated, vein-covered muscle. Sam couldn’t get enough. “Wow Ben, you look so good!” Sam said as Ben flared his lats and twisted his small waist to the side. He was competing in the classic physique class, which meant he was wearing shiny black posers that barely covered his ass. “I need to loose a few more pounds. I need to come in super shredded.” Ben said as he held the pose. “I can’t imagine where you can loose more fat. All I see is muscle.” “Yeah, I missed my size initially but I’m kind of loving all these veins.” Ben said, twisting his forearm, causing thick veins to sprout in every direction. “I still can’t believe you never joined my gym. You could have been getting buff while I got competition ready.” Sam wanted to join but every time he summoned the courage, he would compare himself with the massive freaks he secretly admired and his confidence would evaporate. He also worried about being able to concentrate surrounded by big, bulging muscle heads at the gym. Ben knew he was a fan of muscle, but even after four months together, Sam hadn’t shared the full extent of his muscle obsession with Ben. “I didn’t want to interfere with your prep.” Sam said as a coverup, his excuse each time Ben broached the subject. “Whatever, it would have been cool.” Ben said, turning his attention back to his reflection in the mirror. “Now get over here and feel all this hard muscle.” Ben said. Sam jumped off the sofa without needing further encouragement. It was the day of the competition. Sam sat in the audience feeling completely out of place and in the place he always dreamed of being at the same time. It was a small local show but that didn’t stop the flood of huge bodybuilders from showing up. Everywhere Sam looked he saw muscle, on both men and women. He worried he would not be able to control his already raging hard-on before Ben stepped onto the stage. Sam’s heart was beating like a drum when the classic physique class was called on stage. Ben was the third competitor of eight. As he stepped on stage, Sam could barely contain his excitement. Being his first show, Ben looked nervous and was not the biggest guy on stage. His conditioning helped him hold his own but as the judges moved the men around, Sam knew Ben was not in the running for the top prize. That didn’t affect Ben’s joy when he was announced as the fourth place winner. Had there not been an unending parade of muscle on stage for the following classes, Sam would have lost his mind waiting for his chance to congratulate Ben. He sat in complete awe as the men got bigger and bigger as their weight classes were called. When the super heavyweights were called, Sam had to stifle a moan as they waddled on stage. The winner was absolutely enormous and Sam’s cock was throbbing as he hit pose after pose before collecting the overall prize. Sam timidly made his way to backstage, trying his hardest not to gawk at all the smooth, tanned flesh that filled the room. He spotted Ben talking to another competitor across the room. Even surrounded by half naked bodies, Ben looked amazing. The guy Ben was speaking to was a few inches shorter but almost twice as wide as Ben. Ben was laughing at something the other guy said as he turned and saw Sam. “Hey!” “Congratulations! You looked incredible.” Sam said, trying but failing not to look at the guy next to Ben, who looked even bigger up close. “Thanks. Sam, this is Dave. He placed second in the 212 class.” “H-H-Hey, Sam.” Sam stammered. “Nice to meet you. Well done again Ben. Hit me up about that workout.” Dave said as he turned to leave. “I’m going to get changed and then I NEED to get something to eat. I’m going to pig out tonight!” Ben said before rushing off. Sam looked around the room in disbelief he was actually witnessed this. There was huge, ripped, pumped muscle all around him. Something else struck Sam as he scanned the room, no one noticed him. It was as if his small frame was invisible. Maybe it was the amount of people or the numerous mirrors but the bodybuilders were so engrossed in themselves to notice anyone else. Sam’s confidence grew a little and he held his stares a little longer, admiring the flawless bodies. The room erupted in applause as the overall winner walked in. Even in this room, he stood out, clearly the biggest person by a large margin. The other competitors high-fived him, shook his hand and posed for selfies. “Ready?” Ben said, startling Sam. “Y-Y-Yeah.” Sam took a final look around the room as him and Ben left, knowing this image would never be forgotten. The days that followed his competition were hard for Ben. He was disappointed by his placing and when pictures from the show started to appear online, he became extra critical of himself. Sam tried to make him feel better but whatever he did or said was met with insincere thanks. Ben was spending a lot of time on his phone. Sam noticed an influx of text messages. “Is everything ok?” Sam finally asked. “I guess. I need to get a lot better for the show next year.” “And you will. I’ll help you as much as I can.” Sam said. “How will you help Sam?” Ben lashed out with a sudden rush of anger. “I just mean, whatever I can do.” “What, suggesting we get more fast food or playing more video games?” Ben interrupted. “Ben?” “I’m serious Sam. What do you know about bodybuilding? You don’t know anything about how hard it is, how much work it takes to get bigger and better. All you do is laze around here all day.” Sam was hurt. “I’m sorry.” “No you’re not! I’ve been trying to get you to go to the gym with me forever and you never do. You don’t do anything. I think I need to be around people that feel the same way I do.” “What are you saying?” Sam said. “I’m saying I’m breaking up with you Sam.” Sam felt his heart physically skip a beat. His eyes filled with tears as he stood staring at Ben in utter shock. “No.” He muttered. Ben started to toss the few things he’d left at Sam’s apartment over the last few months into his gym bag. By the time he was finished, Sam was practically weeping. “Come on man, did you really think we had a future? Look at you! Sure, we had some fun, you got to jerk off to my muscle and I’ll give you some credit, you can worship my body pretty good but there’s more to a relationship than just that.” “Ben! Please don’t go.” Sam pleaded, wiping his tears. “Later Sam.” Ben said coldly as he closed the door behind him leaving Sam to collapse on the sofa, crying uncontrollably. It took everything in him to make it to work the next day. Sam felt like he was in a haze. He hadn’t slept, eaten or even showered. His job at the warehouse was mindless work fulling orders but even today Sam was struggling to keep up. With his shift over, Sam walked home, thinking only about crawling into bed. He wasn’t paying attention and found himself walking down a street he normally did take. He stopped to orient himself when he saw the sign, “Brutus”. The front window was tinted but getting closer, Sam could see it was a gym. Before he even registered what he was doing, Sam walked through the front door. “I want a membership.” Sam heard himself say as if he was listening to someone else. When Sam woke up in his bed hours later and saw the gym membership card on the table, he had to think hard about how it had ended up there.

Chapter 1 When I met Dane, he wasn’t exactly what you’d call normal. Even at that time in his early twenties, he was 6’3” and well over 200 pounds of shredded muscle. We worked out at the same gym. I fit my workouts in around my university schedule, but it seemed like whatever time I went, there he was, dripping with sweat and lifting some ungodly weight. Within the first week of my working out there, he had met my eyes more than once and smiled as he noticed the slack-jawed expression I usually had while I was ogling at his feats of inhuman strength. One Friday night, he stopped in the middle of a set to come right up to me. “You like what you see, man?” he said, flexing an incredible bicep in front of my face for emphasis. It had a perfect split peak and the striations were beautifully visible through his paper-thin skin. “Y-Yeah.” I managed to say. Struggling to tear my eyes away from the immense arm and to look him in the eye. He smiled even wider, showing off a set of perfect, straight, white teeth. Aside from the physique of a god, his jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes made him the absolute picture of beauty. “Good,” he said, “Because I’m gonna be the biggest there ever was.” He stretch out his hand and shook the limp appendage that was my arm. “I’m Dane.” “Lachie.” I replied. What happened next is still a complete haze to me, but the next thing I remember I was in the locker room being fucked senseless by the most perfect Adonis I’d ever seen. Looking past my own face reflected in the mirror as I gripped the sink, I saw the golden god of a man. Like me, his eyes saw nothing but himself. Both his and my gaze raked every shredded inch of his torso. His perfect 8-pack abs crunched with every thrust, beads of sweat rolling over the deep clefts between them. There wasn’t so much as a hint of fat on his whole body, yet his pecs were so thick and so rounded that they hung over the top of his abs, casting a shadow down. In that moment I wished I’d been born a contortionist just so that I could suck the perfect broad nipples that hung below those pecs while he kept fucking me. I felt his hands dig into my sides, knowing bruises would absolutely be there within minutes. The sudden flex telling me he was close to climax. I looked into his face and he spared me the briefest of glances. Sweat dragged his perfect, dark wavy hair down until it just teased in front of his eyes. His lips twisted into a cocky half-grin accentuated by his inhumanly square jaw, and I felt his monstrous cock explode inside me. It truly felt like a bomb going off deep inside me. How one man could hold that much cum inside him seemed impossible, and he didn’t strike me as someone who had dry streaks. He had to take a good step back to pull all 11 inches of still-hard, tremendously thick meat out of me. I slumped onto a nearby bench, absolutely wrecked while he stood for a second still admiring himself in the mirror. The man had just done a workout that would turn the strongest of men to jelly then spent a solid ten minutes ploughing me with the force of a jackhammer and he wasn’t even winded. It only just occurred to me how in the blur of passion I’d let this guy fuck me in the open in a very public bathroom. I was shocked at the lack of interruption, but blushing furiously I realised the amount of noise I’d made had probably warned people not to come in. Hell, it had probably warned people a block away. Still buck naked, Dane strutted past me to open up a locker. God his ass was so huge, round and striated that, had I not been completely devoid of the energy to move, I probably would’ve sunk my teeth in. He swung a leg over the bench I sat on, bearing his still rock-hard cock right in my face. Saying “balls the size of chicken’s eggs” strikes me as cliched, but I’m gonna be honest here, if your chicken was laying eggs this size you’d have your face in a record book. They slung under his cock and just laid out on the bench. “You don’t mind do you?” he asked, and breaking eye contact with his dick (with some effort) I noticed he had a needle and a small vial in his hands. Without waiting for an answer, he drew on the needle and filled it with a clear, faintly pink fluid from the vial before plunging it straight into one of the enormous testicles sitting in front of him. I’m not afraid to say I flinched, a lot. As the plunger of the needle dropped, I swear to god, I watched veins spring up over the surface of the massive ball, and snake their way up the thick shaft. I can’t attest as to whether he was fully hard when he shot up with the strange liquid, but as the veins sprang out from his cock, it definitely throbbed just a little larger. He laughed in that beautiful deep voice. “Sorry about that, but right after is the best time to do it.” He looked at the look of shock and awe on my face and grinned again. “This is some secret shit, real experimental,” he said tapping the vial with a broad finger. “Don’t tell anyone, I wouldn’t want to have to hurt you.” I looked up at him with more shock, and less awe, and he gave me a quick wink. He stood up and turned back to the locker. Once again I was struck, not only by the sheer perfection that was his ass, but also by just how wide his lats were. The man had to be at least three times as wide as me. I noticed the odd protrusion of his veins was still spreading over his form, albeit less intensely than it had at the point of impact. He pulled a pair of white briefs on that struggled to leave anything to the imagination, in fact, the waistband couldn’t match the tightness of his waistline, as his immense cock and balls pulled it forwards. He pulled on some loose gym shorts and an even looser stringer and strutted towards the exit. He turned back at the door, glancing over vein-covered traps to call back to me. “I put my number in your phone, text me.” I looked at the pile on the floor where I’d left my clothes to see my phone sitting neatly on top. Putting aside the fact that it was pin protected, and I hadn’t seen him have any time to do so, I found a new entry in my contacts under “Dane – BF.” I had no idea what the hell had just happened or what I’d got into, so I just pulled my clothes on, and avoiding the stares of everyone in the gym as I made the walk of shame, I headed home to pass out.

This story has been a scene I've had in my head for a long time. My plan is to make this a series. I hope you all like it. Comments and suggestions are appreciated. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Dorm Alpha: Part 1 Alex’s eyes snapped open, it was dark in the dorm room except for the light from his digital clock on the bedside table showing 3am. Something was tickling his chest. He looked down but his view was obscured by two giant rock-solid mounds of hair and muscle. The sensation continued, tingles shot from his nipple down his torso. Alex sat upward, the two side-by-side twin mattresses he slept on creaked as he adjusted his bulk. As he sat up, he found the “something” tickling his nipple was his puny roommate Peter, suckling desperately on his muscle tit. Alex pushed him off roughly and he fell to the floor. “Fuck off Pete!” Alex hissed. Peter sat on the floor jerking his cock, staring up at his gargantuan roommate. Eyes wild with lust. Alex looked to the other side of the dorm where a pile of several other college boys slept soundly on the floor. He’d long ago claimed the second bed for himself. He smiled as flashes of the previous evening’s fuckfest and worship session replayed through his mind. Suddenly, Alex realized he needed to take a piss. He got up, as he did so he roughly pushed past Pete still jerking his dick. Then he ducked to exit the dorm room and went down the hall and into the bathroom butt-naked. Alex sidled up next to a urinal, lifted his python and let loose a torrent of hot piss. Relieved, Alex walked to the sink and took a look at himself in the mirror. “Fuck” he blurted out. Then a shit-eating grin spread across his face. Even he was still blown away by the body before him. Nearly 7 feet tall, 350 lbs, ripped to shreds and covered from the chest down in thick, dark hair. Alex was a sight to behold. He lifted his arms above his head, smashing his biceps into his ears as he did so, relishing in his obscene size and muscularity. Alex sucked in his stomach and crunched down his abs. Eight enormous, deeply etched bricks framed with sharp obliques like fingers accentuated an almost comically tight waist. He held this position, flexing hard and watching thick gnarled veins surface across his torso, clearly visible even through the thick layer of body hair. Alex then slowly and gracefully lowered his arms into a double biceps pose, flaring his lats out wider and wider, making him look like a fuckin Dorito. Shoulders the size of watermelons literally burst from his body. Each head of muscle, etched deep and thick, even without a pump. As Alex’s eyes swept across the mirror, drinking in his gargantuan frame, his cock, which had been resting heavily on the bathroom counter began to fill with blood. Alex’s eyes, which had been focused on his meaty-as-all-fuck traps looked down at his cock as it lengthened along the bathroom counter approaching the sink faucet. Seventeen, eighteen inches perhaps? At some point he had just stopped measuring. It’s grown every day since he started college. Since he started eating and lifting like a beast. Alex smirked as his cock finally reached its final length, four inches from the backsplash. “Guess I have a new goal” he thought to himself. Just then, he heard the sound of a toilet flushing and the door to the stall behind him opened up. Without ever turning around, or indeed, dropping his double bicep pose, Alex called to the little runt exiting the stall. “Hey Brett-y. Wanna feel some muscle?” The kid froze like a deer in headlights. Brett lived at the other end of the hall. Quiet guy, kept to himself. Probably didn't weigh more than 150 lbs wet. Alex dropped his arms. Letting them relax against his sides. His lats pushed his arms out to 45 degrees. “Come here Brett-y, don’t be shy. I want you to feel my glutes. I’ve really been focusing on them lately.” Alex flexed his glute muscles with perfect control making the feathered muscles twitch up and down. Brett inched up to Alex, trembling head to foot. His head only reaching the small of Alex’s back. All the while Alex had remained facing the mirror, staring at himself. His body was so large that as Brett stepped closer he was entirely obscured by muscle. Because of Alex's height, Brett had to put his hands out at eye level to touch his ass. He squeaked when his hands felt the hot, hard as iron muscle in front of him. The smell was overwhelming, intoxicating. It made Brett's head spin and very quickly he began cleaning Alex's ass with his tongue. Drinking it in. The feeling of Brett’s tongue probing his ass cheeks caused Alex's giant member to stiffen even more if possible. He brought his left arm back up high and began to worship his own bicep. Alex flexed hard, the bulging ball of muscle pumped bigger and bigger. Alex watched himself in the mirror as his thick powerful tongue licked the titanic bicep tracing the powerful veins on his left arm. Alex grabbed hold of his monstrous cock with the other arm, all the while Brett's tongue probed deeper and deeper. Alex pressed his huge, beefy, calloused hand on top of his dick, pinning it down to the sink counter. He then began grinding his monstrous cock back and forth, relishing in how his hands, huge as they were, looked tiny in comparison to his giant dick. “Deeper Brett. Really get in there” Alex growled. Brett could only moan with pleasure at being surrounded by so much hot muscle. He pushed his head in deeper and Alex relaxed his glutes allowing Brett access to his hole. Alex could have crushed Brett’s skull with a single flex and he knew it. It would be all too easy to snuff out his life. Alex puffed out his chest. The slabs of meat pushed outward, the thick hair on his pecs tickled Alex’s chin. He was a fuckin stud, the ultimate alpha. No one past, present or future who ever lived in this dorm would ever approach his level of superiority and he was only 19. Had only started growing a year ago. He never stopped thinking about growth. Food, Muscle, and Sex was all he ever thought about. With that he let go of his monstrous dick. His cock swung upwards like a baseball bat smashing into his enormous pec cleavage. Alex flexed his pecs along his dick, the hair and muscle stimulating the red-hot iron rod. With Brett’s tongue still stimulating his hole, Alex raised his arms up one last time, flexing every part of his body, expanding in every direction. It was too much. The muscle drove him mad and cock convulsed firing thick college boy spunk onto the ceiling. Alex grabbed his cock, still spewing jizz and aimed it at the bathroom sink. He watched enthralled as his mammoth alpha cock filled the sink nearly halfway up with cum. So thick it didn't drain down. “Fuck Brett, look at that” Alex said. “I'm such a fucking stud! That's more cum than the whole football team jizzes in a month I bet!.... Brett?” Brett was on the floor, dazed from his own epic orgasm being surrounded by Alex's beefy hairy glutes. Alex scooped up Brett like a ragdoll and carried him out to the common area where he deposited him on the couch. Alex went back to his room, opened the door, ducked and went inside. Puney Pete was still sitting on the floor leaning against Alex's bed snoring loudly, hand still on his dick. As Alex got into bed he purposely slapped Pete's face with his weighty flaccid dick. Alex chuckled to himself. Just a few hours till breakfast he thought. With that, the Alex drifted off to sleep. He had a big day tomorrow. In fact, everyday was big and getting bigger.

Hi everyone, You may remember my previous story Control and as-of-yet unfinished (sorry) story Entelechy. This is a new story that kinda serves as a sequel to Control - not directly, but it takes place a few years later and exists in the same universe. Whereas Control was written form the perspective of the 'grower', this story is written from the perspective of the 'subject'. I wanted to expand upon the theme touched on in Control, but make them more vivid since we're now in the subject's perspective. It's intentionally a little 'psychadelic' - I blur identity, perspective and reality. There are a few subtle threads that I'll be interested to see if people pick up. There'll be a lot of growth and psychology, both described in detail. This first chapter is on the short side, more of an intro - it'll be one of a planned 7-8. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy! Limitless Part 1: Veritas He dreamt of Him, as he did every night. His fingers gliding over his muscles, squeezing and caressing them one by one. His warm breath against his skin, pulled taunt across the hard, swollen mounds. His soft lips and hot tongue making love to every inch of his flexed, pumped and overgrown body. It was bliss; Heaven on Earth. There was no greater pleasure. He was bigger in the dream. He always was. The shape of things to come, He had called it. A prophecy, of sorts – confirmation that he would get bigger yet. And it did; the prophecy was always right. Always bigger, heavier, stronger. It was Him who had made this possible; He whose ministrations set his body alight with heavenly pleasure; He whose will drove him forward; He whose ambitions he served. He looked down at small man who was on His knees, enjoying the barrels that were his quads, and felt the most euphoric combination of joy, love and pure sex course through his steroid-fuelled body. Sensing His boy’s gaze, He stopped his lovemaking and looked up at His proud and oversized trophy. A faint smile crossed His lips. “Does my boy enjoy his hard work being appreciated?” The voice is soft, refined, authoritative. His manhood throbs at the direct acknowledgement from Him. He gently places His hand on the right quad, softly kneading it. Another wave of euphoria addles his brain; he tries to speak, but nothing comes out. Pleasure or speech? His mind has already made the choice. Not that there was a choice to make. His smile broadens as He watches His property powerless to His touch, His will, His power. “Something to say, big boy?” He kneads the quad again just as he tried to reply, scrambling his brain once again. His manhood aches, the euphoria overwhelming him. A pressure is building throughout his body. He feels like he’s about to explode, in more ways than one. Bliss courses through his veins, straight to his muscles and cock. Is there even a difference? He gives up trying to form a sentence and instead summons all the willpower to he can, momentarily regaining enough control to crank out a most muscular, flexing the hardest he ever has, mountains of muscles erupting over his body. It provides a moment of clarity, enough time for a single word. “More,” he says. He looks up at the monster He has created, fully smiling now. “I have always liked an eager one.” His hand reaches out and grabs his boy’s red-hot erection with shocking strength. He screams in pleasure, the pressure surging out of control and his mind going black. “We’re just getting started.” *** His eyes shoot open as he orgasms, the golden sunlight of the morning briefly blinding him. He let his hips buck, bathing in the bliss of the ejaculation as the dream faded. He lay there for a moment, letting the light warm him, his mind clearing. He exhaled and raised his head to look upon his body – the ocean of muscle flowing outwards in all directions, swallowing most of the bed beneath it. What have I done to myself? he briefly, momentarily, wondered. Was this what he’d wanted? He’d wanted to be huge, sure, but this…maybe he’d gone too far. When was the last time he’d seen anyone from his old life? He didn’t actually know. It had all happened so fast, piled on so quickly. His head hurt trying to think about it, to remember it. He vaguely recalled a handsome, stylish, slim young man…had that been him? He supposed it had. But that felt so long ago, so much ago. He had come so far… He’d been a student, yes. Physics. It was becoming clearer now. At a top university. A very promising student, fawned on by professors. He’d…enjoyed his studies? Yes. A lot, actually. Family…parents were loving. He’d had a good relationship with them. They had been…proud of him. A younger sister. Her name was…Emily. They’d got on so well together. His friends…Jack, Beth…what had happened to them? Maybe they’d graduated by now. How long had it been? He couldn’t remember. So fast… But that was only half of who he had been. There was…another. A part of him that the other knew nothing about, yet it had always been there, lurking just beneath the surface. The part that furiously wanked to stories about muscle growth, the part of him that was only aroused by bodybuilders…the part of him that, in desperation to ruin himself with muscle, to make himself his fantasy, had reached out to Him. Unnoticed, the other memories slipped back into the shadows, never to see the light again. They had been displaced by the dream, resurfacing in his mind. He looked at his body again. It was so…little, so unimpressive. He had been so much more in the dream. And He had been so pleased with him. His manhood twitched as he recalled the euphoria. He shook his head, clarity returning to his mind, swinging his feet around and heaving himself off the screaming bed. Had he wanted this? Yes, he had. A thousand times, yes. Waddling into the bathroom, he opened the cabinet, revealing dozens of phials, bottles, jars and syringes. The daily routine, all provided by Him. His groin burned. He picked up the first one, smirking into the mirror that could only show his face and traps nowadays. Too far? No. Not far enough. *** Truth. There always came a point where a boy questioned what he had done to himself, how far he had gone, what he had given up. A final moment of clarity, if you will; the last time they have any grasp of their situation. For the boy, it was their Rubicon; their point of no return. A line in the sand. A final choice of what path they wished to walk. They could take that last step, cross the Rubicon, and see the Process through to its inexorable conclusion. Or, they could turn back, give it all up and reclaim their previous selves. A glorious end, or a dreary, uneventful life. A choice between Me or little old Them. As if it were a choice. I had set them free from such banal concerns. They had seen what the Process could do; how it, and only it, could ever satisfy their Hunger. Who in their right mind would give up that freedom? That privilege? They all recognised the value of the gift I had bestowed upon them. That was why I had selected them, after all: they could see past the trivial distractions that waylaid most. They had always chosen Me. For, in that moment when they stood before the Rubicon, not only was the reality of what they had done to themselves laid bare, but also their dependence on Me. I am the key to everything; I am their sine qua non – without which, nothing. There was no life without Me and my Process. I offered purpose, direction. A long, drab ordinary life did not; indeed, it was no life at all. It could not sate the Hunger. Friends and family could never fill the void. Only I could. That great epiphany was, for all intents and purposes, the end of the Process. No more decisions were required by the boy; he merely had to go with the flow and see it through. Simply continue to do what he had already done. He had, after all, seen the Truth.

First off...I'm a day late and I'm SOOOO sorry. All month long I told myself I signed up for the 24th...only today I looked at the sign-up list and I see I had actually signed up for the 23rd. Ugh. I hate being late, it's a pet peeve of mine, so I'm really annoyed with myself. Hopefully you will enjoy my story. I actually started a new story about a week ago because the original I was gonna post was similar to a few of the other stories already posted, so I wanted to go a different direction. It's not completely finished, but I will post part two this weekend. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ A Pointed Revenge I felt the tension in my body rise as I pulled into Naperville. My high school hometown. It’s been four years since I last set foot in this town, five years since I graduated. And I can’t say I miss it. High school wasn’t exactly the best time for me. Kids really are assholes. In 9th grade I was outed by the two biggest assholes in our class. Berk Callum and Len Kratzler were always trouble makers growing up. Unfortunately for me and for everyone they were always two to the bigger, more athletic kids as well and they grew into sports studs in high school as well. The pair found some bodybuilding magazines in my backpack and proudly announced it to the rest of the boys in the locker room. I probably could’ve played it off, saying I just wanted to get into weightlifting…but the dagger was that I also had a playgirl magazine I’d swiped in the bag. That one would’ve been a lot harder to explain away. And so it was I was outed as a fairy in our class. Truthfully, I didn’t get much guff from the rest of the kids in my school. There were other known gay kids throughout high school and thankfully, we’ve seemed to have progressed to the point where the gay stigma isn’t as bad as it used to be. But that didn’t stop the douchebag twins from constantly mentally torturing me about. Throughout all my high school years the taunts and pranks never stopped. From filling my locker up with used jockstraps to putting up fliers with my phone number in the boys’ bathrooms advertising sexual favors. Yeah, high brow stuff. If I can be thankful about one thing it’s that the pranks never got physical. Or least violently physical. Sure they were all too happy to plow into me during phys-ed, where they could play it off as sports. Or check me into the lockers in the hallways. But nothing too damaging. I suppose in our litigious society even they were smart enough to know not to go to the point of provable physical abuse. That still didn’t excuse their behavior and the bouts of depression I endured during what was supposed to be my wonder years. Berk and Len’s reign of terror didn’t just focus on me, even though sometimes I felt like it. They also made sure to go after anybody who associated with me. This relegated my friends list to a very small group, even though I know most of my peers had no issue with me personally. But, of course, even with the progress we’ve made, the superstar athletes tended to get away with too much. Berk and Len continued to show their athletic prowess throughout high school, both making varsity football their Freshman year and growing from there, becoming conference standouts by the time they were Juniors. Berk was a linebacker and graduated at buff 5’11 and 215 lbs while Len was a tight end at 6’1 and 220. Both had raw strength and not much regard for their own safety, making them tough as nails, if not a bit stupid, football gods at our school. In other words, nearly untouchable for discipline. I think back to my time in high school, how I really did want to pursue weight lifting and my ultimate dream…bodybuilding. For sure, I enjoyed looking at those magazines for other reasons as well, but with the two neanderthals patrolling the school’s weight room I never got a chance to really explore my passion early on, leaving me a just 5’8 and 135 lbs with a runners build when I graduated. Was. I WAS 5’8 and 135 lbs. But now…well, let’s just say I was a late bloomer. But what a fucking bloom it was. Immediately after I graduated it was like my hormones went into overdrive. Maybe is was my body's natural reaction to relaxing about not having to be around Berk and Len anymore. That summer before college alone I shot up two inches in height and gained 25 lbs. And it didn’t stop there. Once I was in college I felt fully free to embrace my love of weightlifting and bodybuilding. My freshman roommate was a cool dude on the school’s wrestling team and he happily showed me the ropes in the gym. When I went home for Thanksgiving my parents and younger brother didn’t even recognize me. By that time I had hit six feet tall and 190 lbs with deep cut abs. I got along well enough with my younger bro, who was four years my junior, though we were never super close. But I loved the new sense of awe and admiration, and a little bit of jealousy, in his eyes as he complimented my body. He even had me flex my biceps for him as he let out a long whistle. I believe the words he used were “Rock fuckin’ solid, big bro! You're going to have to teach me to get big too!”. And I only grew from there. Upwards and outwards, bigger and stronger. And according to so many of my female college friends, more and more handsome too. In high school I’d been described as “cute”, but with the flood of testosterone and hormones my jaw had widened and sharpened, my brow and cheekbones had grown and I now sported a stylish goatee. Of course, being gay, I found that I was very popular on campus among the my fellow homosexual brethren. It wasn't too long before I was the biggest, most muscular, and best looking gay man on campus. Heck maybe the best looking man period! And still through my four years of college I pushed my body to the limits. I fell in with the bodybuilding crowd in our town who were happy to embrace me and my natural talent for packing on muscle. My senior year I competed in our our college’s bodybuilding competition and swept the other boys off the stage. The judges even suggested I jump into local and regional competitions, something I plan to do very soon. But for now I had planned my re-introduction to Naperville, specifically for my class’s five-year reunion. I pulled into town and took note of the familiar stores lining the streets. Not much had changed. One year after I graduated my family moved across state so I had no reason to go back since, which is why I hadn't been here in four years. I made my way to one of the few friends I had in high school, Dan Pitcherso, whom we called “Pitch”. He was a year younger than I and was probably my closest friend. I missed Pitch and felt a little bit guilty about not coming back to Naperville to visit him, but he understood. He came to visit me on campus my sophomore year. He was rightly blown away by me then and I couldn’t wait to see his reaction to me now. The thought made me grin as I turned onto his street. Like me, Pitch was also gay, but he came out after high school to avoid the wrath of Berk and Len. In high school he was on the tennis team. About 5’11 with a wiry athletic build, he was a hottie and he only got hotter in college like me. Not gonna lie, when he visited me we hooked up. He couldn’t get enough of my muscles, making me flex and pose for him while he felt me up. I couldn’t get enough of it either and we had an awesome night. He was gonna let me crash at his place for our reunion. I knocked on the door to Pitch’s house, a modest bungalow on the outskirts of town. The door opened and smiled as I took in Pitch’s reaction. “Good god, Skip!” He looked me up and down, in my gym shorts and t-shirt, both of which clung to the bulges on my body. “You are way bigger than the last time I saw you, jeezus! Well c’mon on on big man!” “Good, to see you too little buddy!” I beamed down at him as I stepped inside, before turning and swooping him up in a big hug. “OOF! Fuck, man, I feel like a tube of toothpaste.” I released him and set him down, he kept his hands on my arms, no doubt copping a feel. “I still have a hard time processing you calling me ‘little buddy’. I’m so used to you being smaller than me for most of our lives.” I chuckle and tighten my arms at my sides, letting him feel just a taste of the caged power I possess. “I know, I hardly believe it myself sometimes. But to me you are quite ‘little’, Pitch. But you look good! I can see some more meat on them bones.” “Thanks, up to 175 lbs. But geez, you gotta be twice that!” I throw my head back and laugh, “Haha not quite. Hopefully someday though!” I then flex my cannons in a double biceps pose for Pitch. His mouth falls open as he takes in my peaks. They are huge. My lifting buds back home call me a phenom with the size I pack at just 23 years old. Pitch starts to drool and I slowly step toward him, holding my flex. I press my massive chest against his and he looks up into my smirking face. I drop my arms and lean my head way down and kiss him. He tastes good. He wraps his lithe arms around me as far as he can, feeling up the lumps on my back and my big, pert ass muscles. My goatee scratches against his cheek and he moans. I lean down, grab his ass and easily lift him up and he wraps his legs around my waist. “Oh my god, Skip. You are so hot. So huge.” I growl and smile breaking the kiss, “How about you tell Big Skip where your bedroom is, little buddy.” His body shudders as I squeeze him tight and bounce my pecs into his chin. In the bedroom he excitedly strips off my clothes and proceeds to worship all my muscles. I happily pose and flex for him just like we did back in the dorms my sophomore year…only this time I’m about 75 lbs bigger. I strip off his clothes as well and enjoy his tight little body. He’s still maintained his cute abs and killer cum gutters. He ravages my arms, kissing all around the mass of my biceps and triceps. He goes wild as I lay on my stomach and he explores the vase expanse of my lats. I flip over and Pitch almost comes when I flex my quads, one of the strongest features of my already impressive body. He coos, “I think you legs are bigger around than my waist, Skip!” “Well what’s you’re waist measurement, sexy?” “30 inches,” he responds and I moan. His tight waist certainly looks it. “MMMM…then you are correct, Pitch.” Pitch can wait no longer and dives for my crotch, pulling down my tenting underwear. “HOLY COW, Skip! Did this thing keep growing too!?” I grin with pride, “I think so, it seemed to grow some my last year or two of college.” “You are incredible, man.” Skip proceeds to give me an amazing blowjob. He can't swallow me whole but very few can. I return the favor by throwing him on the bed and deepthroating his own respectable cock. We then lay side by side jacking each other until we both blow simultaneously. I smile with pride as even my load outsizes his by about two times. I’m a fucking HUGE man in every way and I fucking love it. After I clean up I let Pitch know that more fun will be had this weekend, but for now I need to concentrate on the first phase of my revenge. + Before I came back to town I let Pitch know of my plan and he was fully in. He even agreed to help me coordinate the attack. That evening I dressed up in my finest outfit. Some dark grey trousers that hugged my bulging thighs and ass and a short sleeve black button down shirt. The top three buttons undone of course, due to my prodigious chest. I styled my dark hark slightly up and forward and gave myself a wink the mirror before heading out. Pitch gave me another whistle and groped my guns and ass as I walked by. He added the findings of his reconnaissance. “The target is at Chester’s.” I thanked my by quickly grabbing his tight waist and using my superior strength to pull him into my torso. Before he could reach I planted another sloppy kiss on him, feeling his body go limp in my arms. I tended to have the affect. I set him down on his couch and walked out the door. With it being Friday night the place was hopping. Chester’s is the most well known singles bar in Naperville and it seemed like every one of them was in here. As I walked in I instantly felt tons of eyes on me. No doubt I was the best looking, best built man in here. I walked through the crowd watching them instinctively part for me. Back in high school I would’ve gotten lost in a crowd like this, especially at my former height and size. But ever since I’ve fully grown…man, it’s hard to describe the feeling of owning a crowd without even trying. Looking around I only saw one, maybe two guys who were taller than me, and they were string beans. Each of them probably as big around as one of my legs. In high school I remember walking around looking up to most men. But since I sprouted just over nine inches in height since high school I now tower over most people. And I fucking love it. Being a six foot five bodybuilder is awesome. Let me tell you, there are very, VERY few men that can match me. Some guys are taller yes, but 99% of the time they are skinnier. Some guys are heavier, but 99% of the time it’s because they are fat. I’m an alpha male and I fucking love it. Walking around looking down on the shorter guys who think they are big shit, squaring my shoulders and puffing myself up even bigger, making them feel small and weak, I live for it. Sure I may be a little conceited, but I feel I’ve earned it, honestly. And truthfully, I’m not an asshole, unless you are an asshole. I can get along with anybody. In fact, back at home my friend group consists of a wide range of guys and girls of all shapes and sized. I don’t just hang out with other jocks like me. I make my way to the bar and spot a beautiful woman in a sleek navy blue dress. I give a gruff look to the fellow on the stool next to her and that’s all it takes to make him scamper away. Looks like this seat is open for me! “Good evening, Ms. How are the drinks tonight.” The woman huffs, having not looked up from her drink. “The drinks are weak, like most of the boys in this-” She turns to look at me and her mouth falls open. I’m used to this, the shock and awe of my handsome face and my muscles. “-this one horse town,” she says, finishing her statement. “Well I’m sorry to hear the drinks are weak, but I can assure you I’m not.” “Yes…yes I can see that. You sure are a big man aren’t you.” “Most would say that. Is that ok with you?” She smiles and stirs her drink. “It’s more than ok with me, handsome. I like my men big and strong.” With that she places her tiny hand on my left thigh. I look down and note just how little space her tiny hand covers on my monstrous quads. BINGO! I look down at her and smirk. I take in her curvy form. She’s middle age, perhaps in her early 40s, but is smokin’ hot...for a woman. Long flowing brown hair, with just a few wrinkles on her face. Big red luscious lips. If I were straight she'd have my heart doing flips, even with my stature. I certainly can’t deny that she is one sexy MILF. Hey, I’m gay, not dead! I tense my quad and watch her eyes go big as she feels the hard mass in my slacks. “How about I buy you drink, Ms…?” “Call me Diane.” “Sure thing, Diane. What are you having?” “Pineapple whiskey sour.” “Bartender! The lady will have another. Make it a double. She likes ‘em STRONG.” I bounce my pecs as I say the last part and I see her squirm in her seat. Oh yeah, she likes the muscles. Not all women do, some are turned off...but clearly she isn't one of those. I won’t bore you with the details, but just 45 minutes later I’m following Diane to her house. The familiarity of neighborhood returning as we navigate down the streets. Once in her house Diane practically rips off my clothes and I carry her to her bedroom. We proceeded to fuck like rabbits. I’m not one of those gay guys who find snatch repulsive, thankfully, so I can fully admit that I enjoyed our time. Especially since she got off on my body so much. Even though she’s a woman, I'll be honest I love my body being worshipped and admired. And to tell you truth, there is something sexy about fucking a petite gorgeous woman. Diane is just 5’3 so I towered her by over a foot and was probably at least double her in weight. So having her worship my muscles and dominating her made me feel like a BIG man, something all of us bodybuilders crave. She had me lay down and serviced my big dick for 15 straight minutes. Then she climbed on me and rode me for what felt like an hour...that is once she was able to squeeze herself onto me. That again made me feel hyper manly. And she barely weighed anything sitting on top of me. And that thought only made my cock throb harder and made her scream in pleasure more as I filled her. Throughout the rest of the evening we performed several positions, many of which were new to her. Thanks to my endowmen and strength we could get creative. She loved the fact that I could easily hold her off the ground with my dick impaled in her. With her praises of my strength and size it was easy for me to stay aroused even though I’m gay at heart. Finally after multiple orgasms for her and couple from me, we settled down and rested in her bed. At about 12:30am I heard the living room door slam shut and the TV turn on. I peeled myself away from Diane’s exhausted, supple body, threw on my shoes and slacks and exited the bedroom shirtless. In the living there he was, one of my high school bullies, Len Kratzler. He didn’t look too different, still a decently thick build but the definition he had when I saw him last was gone. He hair was receding slightly and he had a slight beer gut. I smiled to myself and I realized how superior I was to him now. He stared at the TV not even acknowledging me as he sipped a Coors. But I wasn’t going to let that last. I feigned and apology “Oh, uh, sorry man. Your Mom and I were just on date and-” “Save it dude, just get out.” There it was, that sniveling attitude he always had. “Say, buddy, you look familiar,” I say with a grin. “Look man, I told you to get out of my house.” He then turned to look at me. His reaction was priceless as he took in my size, filling the corner of his living room. I purposely left my shirt off so he could take in my awesome pecs, my deep cuts abs, my broad shoulders bulging like pumpkins. Len was used to being the big man and winning fights, but he quickly figured out that I wasn’t someone he’d want to tussle with. I guess he has a least a few brain cells remaining. And then it got even better, once he was finally able to break his gaze away from my chest, he studied my face. He sensed some familiarity. I sauntered over and stood in front of him, towering over his seated body like a Herculean god. “Recognize me, man? I can tell you see something in me. I recognize you, tiny.” I could see him squirm, he’d probably never been called small his entire life. “You tortured me constantly all through high school, does that help?” I tensed my body and could see his body shiver in fear. “You outted me to everyone before I was ready. You are a pathetic asshole.” Realization swept over his face. “Sk…Skip?” “What’s that, little man? What was it you used to call me?” I demanded. “...um…Scrawny. Scrawny Skip.” “That’s right. Though I’m not so scrawny NOW AM I” I growled and flexed my right biceps watching his reaction as my arm ballooned to 23 inches of rock hard muscle. “Does that look scrawny to you?” “No!” He practically squealed like a little girl. God, this was awesome. I would never physically hurt the guy though if I did I would’ve been justified...but I certainly didn't want him to know that. “What happened to your muscles, Len? You look like a fat piece of shit! You are nothing to me!” I tensed into a most muscular pose and growled over him, he brought his legs up to his chest and hugged them in fear. “What…what are you doing here, Skip? Did you come here to beat me up?” I relaxed. “Man, you are a fucking pussy, you think I’d actually hurt you? I’m better than that. I’m better than YOU! I did come for revenge, and I got it.” I stood up tall and proud and smirked down at him. “I remember how you were so protective of your mom, how you would beat up anybody that would comment on her. Guess what, Lenny, I just FUCKED the hell out of your mom. Seriously little dude, even for a gay guy she was an awesome lay!” I could see rage boiling up his eyes. He was angry with me, but what the fuck could he do to me? Hahahaha this was perfect! “Oh yeah, Lenny boy, maybe you should call me Daddy!” “BUT YOU’RE GAY!” He shouted. “YEP! But not gay enough I couldn’t pump some queer baby batter into your Mom’s snatch. She couldn’t get enough of my HUGE COCK.” I lewdly reached down and cupped my bulge which has inflated slightly from the feeling of power. His eyes went wide as he gazed at my bulge. “Yeah, it’s big isn’t it. HUGE, in fact. Probably the biggest dick your Mom has ever had. But she loved it. If you had come home earlier you would’ve heard her screaming in ecstasy. And all from a gay guy’s cock!” I could tell Len wanted to hit me, kick me, try anything, but he knew if he did he would be toast. I leaned down to him, “Don’t try anything stupid, Lenny boy. I’m A LOT bigger and stronger than you. What did you bench in high school? 275? That’s cute, I max out at 525 lbs. And I do kickboxing for cardio, so if you want to try something with me, it’s your funeral.” In a glorious twist he then started whimpering. “Just…just get out. Leave me alone.” He actually had tears in his eyes! “You’re gonna cry! Aww poor little Lenny. How many kids did you make cry growing up, huh!?” I was now getting angry. As I shouted he curled further up into a ball. It was pathetic…and it made feel big. I mean, I am big…but it made me feel HUGE! “Maybe now you’ll think twice before attacking people. Remember, Lenny…” I brought up both arms and flexed once more, “…Remember there are ALWAYS bigger fish out there. BIGGER. STRONGER. MORE JACKED FISH…and that paybacks are a bitch.” “Just…just go. Please,” he sniffled with tears in his eyes. I chuckled above him and drove home the dagger, “I sure hope your Mom is on the pill. Could you imagine if she had my baby! I’d get to come visit you and your mom all the time! I'd be your big gay STEP DADDY! HAHAHA! ” Of course, I used protection as I fucked Diane but Len didn’t need to know that. "Take one last look at my awesome body, how much better it is than yours. You thought you were big in high school, yet look at your now. My 58" chest makes yours look tiny. My huge thighs and calves dwarf yours. And your waist...you've had way to many beers, you chunk!" I laugh and slap my tanned abs. "But I guess on some level should thank you, all that torment you gave me in high school, fueled my desire to grow. And grow I fucking DID! BOOM!" I perform one last most muscular and then laugh as I walk out the door, saving the image of his horrified face in my brain. There’s nothing more straight guys hate them fucking their mom’s. And the fact that Len’s mom was fucked by a gay dude…all the better. My perfect revenge on Len was complete. Not it was time for phase two. + Phase two to follow

Moin! Ewig hier, nie was geschrieben. Während ich die ein oder andere Geschichte mal angefangen habe, hat es nie eine in einen postwürdigen Zustand gebracht. In einem plötzlichen Anfall von Inspiration hab ich mir jetzt gedacht, dass ich mal einen ziemlich guten Traum, den ich vor einigen Monaten hatte, mal als Grundlage für eine neue Geschichte nehme. Also, das ganze ist zwar nicht biografisch aber wie man das so kennt, basiert ja alles Geträumte auf was Erlebten. Ich tendiere zum labern, weswegen eine einzelne kurze Traumwunschvorstellung in eine mehrkapitelige (so ca. ... 3?) angewachsen ist. Das Ganze ist eher auf der realistischeren Seite des Spektrums verortet. Eigentlich gefallen mir die Figuren ganz gut, weswegen es vielleicht auch den einen oder anderen Ableger oder Nachfolgestories gibt, in denen man dann das eine oder andere ausprobieren kann. Gebt mir gerne Rückmeldung ob/wie es euch gefallen hat oder was ihr gerne ausprobiert haben möchtet. Wie gesagt, ich neige zum Schwafeln, das erste Kapitel ist eher eine lange Einleitung, von daher werden die weiteren Kapitel knapper, heißer, mehr zum Punkt. Viel Spaß Flo und ich - Teil 1 Die Straßenecke sah noch genauso aus wie damals: Der Kiosk an der Ecke, daneben der Gemüsehändler, gegenüber der Edeka an der Bushaltestelle. Und genau wie früher sahen die umgebenden Gebäude auch immer noch etwas schäbig aus. Aber sein wir ehrlich, nach 6 Jahren hätte ich wohl weder etwaige Unterschiede wirklich gemerkt, noch weiß ich, was ich erwartet hatte. 6 Jahre waren eigentlich nicht so lang… Eigentlich. An die Haustür erinnerte ich mich noch und auf dem Klingelschild stand immer noch der gleiche Name: F. Schumann. Ich klingelte und wartete. Sechs Jahre. Was in der Zeit nicht alles passiert war. Als ich das letzte Mal hier stand fühlte es sich an wie ein anderes Leben. Und gleichzeitig hatte ich immer das Gefühl, dass "auf der anderen Seite", die Seite, die ich zurückgelassen hatte, die Pausetaste gedrückt worden war und alles genau so auf mich wartete, wie ich es zurückgelassen hatte. Bei meinem ersten Besuch in der Heimat, nach ca. einem Jahr, kam dann die große Überraschung, als ich feststellen musste, dass dem nicht so war. Ich schüttelte leicht den Kopf, wie um die Gedanken wegzujagen und fokussierte mich wieder auf das Klingelschild. Es kam mir vor, als stünde ich jetzt hier schon viel zu lange. Ich klingelte noch einmal. So als wäre ich Flo mit dem zweiten Klingeln einfach nur zuvorgekommen summte der Türöffner nur ein paar Sekunden nach dem Klingeln. Ich stieß die Tür auf und trat ein. Drinnen überlegte ich, den Lift zu nehmen - es war immerhin der 6. Stock, ganz oben - entschied mich aber für die Treppe. Auch wenn mein Fitnesslevel noch zu wünschen übriglies, motivierte ich mich, den Aufstieg als kleines Training zu sehen. Als ich im 1. Stock angekommen war, verfalle ich wieder ins Überlegen. Wann hatte ich Flo das letzte Mal gesehen? Wir sind uns, wie ich alle meine Schwulen Freunde kennengelernt habe, auf einer Datingplattform getroffen. Nach einigem Schreiben haben wir uns bei ihm in der Stadt - nur knappe 40 min weg - auf ein Date getroffen. Aus einem wurden 2, wurden 3. Aber dann war der Groschen auch gefallen. Obwohl Flo mit seiner verschmitzten Art süß war, mit seinem eher kleinen Körperwuchs in Kombination mit einem eher kantigen aber nicht sonderlichen Körperbau durchaus meinem Beuteschema entsprach und wir einen ähnlichen Humor hatten, war der Funke nicht übergesprungen. Auch nicht beim dritten Mal, bei dem wir auf seiner Couch halb in Stimmung und eher peinlich als sexy an uns herumfummelten und wir es dann unangenehm berührt abbrachen. Wir funktionierten einfach besser als Freunde und das war das eindeutige Zeichen. Zwar trieb mir die Vorstellung dieses ersten und letzten Males ein kleines bisschen die Schamesröte ins Gesicht, ich hatte mich aber schon lange damit abgefunden, dass meine Zwanziger und die damit einhergehende verspätete schwule Pubertät einfach kein goldenes Kapitel in meinem Leben waren. Sechs Jahre und ein anderes Leben. Wir blieben Freunde, schrieben mehr miteinander, als dass wir uns sahen. Als ich mich dann entschloss, für meinem ersten Job ins Ausland, und damit 1000 Kilometer weit weg zu ziehen, überlebte die Freundschaft noch ca. eineinhalb Jahre und verlief sich dann im Sand. Ich glaube, dass keiner darüber sauer oder verstimmt war, vielmehr fühlte es sich ganz normal an - so läuft das halt! Immer mal wieder wurden Bilder von Flo in den Insta-Algorithmus gespült und erinnerten mich daran, dass es ihn ja auch noch gab. Aber auch die Häufigkeit dieser Erinnerungsposts lies nach einer Änderung im Code der Plattform weiter nach und die Bilder tauchten irgendwann gar nicht mehr auf. Zu wenig Interaktion, ausgeblendet. Jetzt war ich kurz davor wieder nach Deutschland gezogen: Ich war meiner Intuition gefolgt und mich auf eine Stelle ganz nah meiner alten Heimat beworben, gerade in der Stadt, 40 Minuten von meiner alten Heimat entfernt und ihn schlussendlich auch bekommen. Aber mit der Bewerbung kam auch die Erinnerung an Flo und die bis dahin vergessene gemeinsame Zeit hoch. Wie wir uns gegenseitig die Kerle zugeschickt hatten, die wir gut fanden, wie ich ihm gebeichtet hatte, dass ich immer mal was mit einem richtigen Muskelmann haben wollte - eine Wortwahl, bei der sich immer noch die Fußnägel hochrollen. Mittlerweile nutze ich ein viel direkteres und ausgefuchsteres Vokabular - haben wollte. Wie er in einer unglücklichen Beziehung war und ich am Handy den Therapeuten spielen musste. Das waren schon Zeiten. Damals in diesem Leben vor 6 Jahren. Ich schnaufte mittlerweile, als ich kurz auf der 4. Etage halt mache. Weiter gehts, zwei Stockwerke noch! Meine Oberschenkel brannten mittlerweile. Und so hatte ich vor zwei Wochen, ein Vorbereitungsbesuch bei neuen Arbeitgeber stand kurz bevor, Whatsapp aufgemacht und geschaut, ob Flo immer noch die gleiche Nummer nutzt. Das kleine Profilbild war nur ein cartoonartiger Plattenteller, kein erkennbares Gesicht, aber das schien mir ganz nach seiner Fasson zu sein. Ein kurzes "Hi, ist das immer noch die Nummer von Flo?" und das darauffolgende „Jup“ gab mir dann dir Gewissheit. Wir schrieben hin und her und da ich eh um diese Zeit in der alten Heimat war, verabredeten wir uns kurzentschlossen für den Abend bevor ich wieder zurückfliegen sollte. Als ich sein Profil auf Instagram suchte, merkte ich, dass es schlicht und ergreifend nicht mehr auffindbar war. Für heute war ein bequemes Feierabendbier angesagt, von mir aus konnte es auch ruhig etwas später werden, ich war in Feierlaune und ich erinnerte mich, dass mit ein paar Bier der etwas schüchterne Flo das schlagende Herz jeder Party wurde. Die letzten Stufen hatte ich ein vorfreudiges Grinsen im mittlerweile rot angelaufenen Gesicht. Ich war angekommen. Meine Beine pochten mittlerweile und ich war doch deutlich außer Atem. Ich weiß nicht, ob ich dieses „kleine Workout“, bzw. meine Idiotie insgeheim hasste oder liebte. Die Tür stand angelehnt offen, kein Flo zur Begrüßung da. Vielleicht war er gerade in der Küche am Kochen oder so. Das würde auch das Warten bei der Klingel erklären. Oder das Bad. Aber ich tippte auf Küche. Ich ging rein und schloss die Tür hinter mir. Keiner da. "Bin im Bad! Setz dich ins Wohnzimmer, ich komme gleich" Das Bad, damn. Ich fluchte innerlich, weil ich eine völlig beknackte Wette gegen mich selber verloren hatte. Nachdem ich mir keuchend die Sneaker ausgezogen hatte, ging ich ins Wohnzimmer und lies mich auf das Sofa plumpsen. Ich schaute mich kurz um und musste feststellen, dass sich nicht so viel verändert hatte. Hier funktionierte die Pausetaste also. In dem eh sehr aufgeräumten Wohnzimmer der kleinen 45m²-Neubauwohnung war es schon immer sehr übersichtlich und aufgeräumt gewesen. Das Auffälligste war, dass anstelle der PS4, die bullige PS5 stand. Flo war trotz seines eher grobschlächtig-verbrecherischem Äußeren insgeheim ein kleiner Nerd und Zocker. Ich schaute aus dem Fenster über den Balkon in den trüben, typisch norddeutschen Himmel und lasse meinen Atem zur Ruhe kommen. Dann höre ich Rascheln aus dem Badezimmer, was direkt in die Wohnküche abging, und drehe mich zur halb verdeckten Tür. Hinaus kam eine Gestalt, die ich so gar nicht erwartete. Sie hatte nichts mit der linkischen vom Flo aus der Erinnerung gemein. Ich sah ein schwarzes T-Shirt mit einem knackig-breiten Kreuz, eine massive Hand, die ein Handtuch hielt, mit der die Gestalt sich die Haare trockenrubbelte. Ich sah die Ader auf dem freiliegenden Unterarm. Dieser Anblick irritiert mich so sehr, dass mein Hirn in den Panikmodus schaltete, sich meine Gedanken überschlugen und die Zeit sich anfühlte, als wäre sie extrem verlangsamt und mein Hirn versuchte, die Infos der Augen zu irgendeiner Analyse der Situation heranzuziehen. Hatte Flo etwa noch einen Fuckboy oder Stecher dagehabt? Oder, nein! Das am anderen Ende des Handys war gar nicht Flo gewesen und da hat sich jemand anders einen Spaß gemacht! Ach, Schwachsinn! Warum sollte dann Flos Name unten an der Tür stehen. Während sich meine Gedanken so überschlugen, zog die Gestalt das Handtuch aus dem Gesicht und grinste mich breit und linkisch an. "Sorry, kam gerade aus dem Gym. Hab beim Training die Zeit vergessen" Jetzt wo ich das Gesicht sah, konnte ich eindeutig sagen: Es war Flo. Jedenfalls Flos Gesicht auf einem ziemlich anderen Körper. Ich sah an ihm vorbei, und nun fielen mir die vielen Kleinen Änderungen auf: Eine übergroße Dose Whey hier, ein Terraband da, auf dem Tisch ein Paar Lifter-Handschuhe. Meine Augen huschten wieder zu Flo. Mein Mund klappte auf. Flo grinste mich immer noch an, das Handtuch um den Hals gelegt, die Hände an den Enden, die Unterarme zu mir ausgerichtet. Beide hatten Adern und waren etwas angespannt vom Greifen. Dahinter wölbten sich deutlich zwei Bizepsbälle. "Haben uns lange nicht gesehen!" "Gy... Gym?", bringe ich stotternd und zusammenhangslos raus. "Achso, ja. Das weißt du gar nicht. Ich hab mit Trainieren angefangen" "Daa... das sehe ich", bringe ich gerade so raus. Flo guckt etwas verlegen weg. Wahrscheinlich konnte er meine Reaktion nicht so richtig einordnen. "Jaaa, äh ... hätte ja nicht gedacht, dass ich einer von denen werde, aber .. da sind wir jetzt" Ich war etwas perplex. Der Besuch verlief so ganz anders, als ich ihn mir vorgestellt hatte. Aber was meinte er mit ... "Was meinst du mit "einer von denen"?" Bitte, lass es ihn sagen, betete ich zum Gott der Lüste. "Naja..." Bitte! "Einer von diesen Bodybuildern." Das konnte doch nicht wirklich passieren! Worte und Beschreibungen hatten mich schon immer angemacht, dieses Wort mit all seinen Konnotationen ganz besonders. "Einer dieser muscle heads, weißte?" Es fühlte sich an wie ein doppelter 6er im Lotto.

I - El día que conocí a Nico Y resultó que un día, después de seis meses de estar en cuarentena por la pandemia, volví al gimnasio. Había estado intentando hacer deporte en casa, pero luego de los primeros meses el encierro me había vencido y había perdido gran parte de lo que había ganado con entrenamiento consistente y buena alimentación. Acababa de cumplir treinta y ocho años y había decidido que quería volver a estar en forma. Así que me anoté en un gimnasio cerca de casa al que sabía que no iban muchas personas y fui durante el mediodía de lunes a viernes sin faltar un día durante dos meses. Ordené mis comidas como me había enseñado mi nutricionista y después de dos meses de trabajo duro había recuperado la masa muscular que había perdido y bajado un poco la panza. Por esos días creía que estaba en forma, pero eso cambió hasta que conocí a Nico. Ese lunes, por temas de trabajo, no había podido liberarme para ir al mediodía así que decidí ir a las tres de la tarde. Descubrí dos cosas. A esa hora el gimnasio estaba practicamente vacío. No había ningún entrenador y solo quedaba la chica de recepción que estaba en la planta de abajo, así que se podía decir que tenía todo el gimnasio para mí. Bueno, no todo, porque la segunda cosa que descubrí fue a Nico. En verdad no era la primera vez que lo había visto. Algún que otro día me había cruzado con él en el gimnasio, pero se notaba que no iba al mismo horario que yo y por eso solo aparecía cada tanto. Lo que también se notaba era que entrenaba duro. No era gigante. A decir verdad era bastante flaco con una cinturita delgada y unas piernas de palo, pero había pegado una buena espalda y en los brazos (a falta de grasa) se notaban unos tremendos triceps que se marcaban con cada esfuerzo que hacía. Siempre llevaba una remera con cuello en V por lo que solo pude ver parte de sus musculosos brazos, pero notaba lo desarrollada que tenía la espalda. Era bastante blanco y tenía el pelo oscuro. No era feo de cara, pero lo que me llamó más la atención fueron sus músculos. Él era un poco mas alto que yo, me debía sacar media cabeza. Lo cual me hacía pensar que debía medir un metro setenta y cinco o algo así. Las veces que lo había visto me daba cuenta que entrenaba con fuerza, que levantaba pesos más altos que los que yo levantaba y que le gustaba entrenar duro. Lo que no me daba cuenta era si se daba con algo, algún anabólico. Se encontraba en el limite de algo que podría ser conseguido con esfuerzo y dedicacion más buenos genes o algo logrado rapidamente con alguna pastilla. Esa tarde en que lo vi en el gimnasio lo saludé y descubrí que ambos estabamos entrenando pecho. Él acababa de sentarse y solo estaba calentando, subía y bajaba la barra sin agregar peso. —¿Te molesta si hacemos una y una? —le pregunté. —No, dale —me dijo. Yo calenté como él acababa de hacer. —¿Con cuanto arrancás? —me preguntó. —Con cuarenta kilos, ¿vos? —no crean que subía mucho mas que eso, pero un amigo entrenador me había recomendado que luego de calentar no desperdiciara series con mas peso que eso. —Perfecto —dijo y cargó la barra con veinte de un lado mientras yo hacía lo mismo del otro. La subió y bajó sin problema unas quince veces y de pronto tuve miedo de hacer el ridículo dado que yo no podía hacer tantas repiticiones ni tan rapido. —¿Vas solo? —me preguntó. —Si, gracias —dije un poco nervioso. Hice mis doce repeticiones y dejé la barra. —¿Cuanto le subís? —le pregunté. —Vamos con diez kilos mas. —Dale —dije y me arrepentí ni bien lo escuché. Cargamos la barra y él se acóstó. —¿Te ayudo? —le pregunté. —No, está bien, gracias. Esta vez hizo veinte repiticiones sin demasiado esfuerzo. Eran cincuenta kilos. —Con este peso me vas a tener que ayudar —le dije. —Dale. Se puso detrás de la barra y me ayudó a terminar mis diez repeticiones con esfuerzo. —Bien —dijo—, casi sin ayuda. ¿Vamos con cinco más de cada lado? Yo todavía no había recuperado el aire. —Para levantar mas que esto voy a tener que llamar a una grúa. —No te preocupes, yo te sigo. —Si vos lo decís. Cargamos diez kilos más y él acostó debajo de la barra. La levantó e hizo veinte repeticiones sin problema. Ya podía ver sus tremendo triceps abultados del esfuerzo. Cuando se sentó me di cuenta que su pecho se había inflado bastante. Fue mi turno y él se puso detrás de la barra. Me ayudó a levantar y después me dejó ir solo, pero me tuvo que ayudar a la cuarta. —Vamos, bien —dijo—, una más, dale. Hice una quinta. —Una más, vamos, dale, fuerza. Hice una sexta con algo de ayuda. —Una más, dale. Hice una séptima con un poco más de ayuda. —Vamos, la última. Así llegué a la ocho aunque él tuvo que practicamente levantarla solo. De todos modos me sentí bastante bien, nunca había llegado a levantar sesenta kilos. —Bien, bien —me dijo—. ¿Diez más? —Uh, boludo, me voy a morir. Perá que me interno en el hospital y cuando salgo lo hablamos —dije yo mientras respiraba por la boca. Me puse en cuclillas. Sentía que el pecho me iba a explotar de lo duro que lo tenía. Me puso una mano en el hombro y me preguntó si estaba bien. —Todo lo bien que puede estar alguien que acaba de ser aplastado por una topadora. —Jajaja, dale que no es tanto. Cargó diez kilos más y se acomodó debajo. Yo todavía respiraba por la boca. ¡Eran setenta kilos! —¿Te ayu... do? —dije todavía respirando con dificultad. —Dale —dijo. Me puse detrás de la barra y desde ese lugar pude ver su pecho sin problema. Por la remera y lo flaco que era no me había dado cuenta pero tenía un pecho mucho mas grande de lo que yo pensaba. Hizo quince repeticiones y lo ayudé apenas para llegar a las veinte. Ya me empezaba dar cuenta que el pibe era mucho más fuerte que yo y eso me encantaba. Tenía una actitud de macho fuerte que me hacía querer acercarme y tocar su pecho y sus brazos. —¿Hace mucho que entrenás? —le pregunté. —Hace cuatro años —me dijo mientras se masajeaba el pecho con una mano. —Ah, hijo de puta. Yo entreno hace ocho y nunca llegué a levantar tanto. —¿Cuantos años tenés? —me preguntó. —Treinta y ocho. ¿Vos? —Veinte. —¡Ah, hijo de mil puta! Con razón. ¿Qué comés? ¿Bulones de desayuno? —Jajaja, siempre me gustó hacer deporte. —Se nota, hijo de puta, yo a los veinte años me levantaba para ir al colegio y ya me agitaba. —Vamos, ¿la última? —Me querés matar ¿no? —Dale, te sigo. Se paró detrás y me tuvo que ayudar para hacer la primera. A la segunda ya me quedé sin fuerzas. Pude ver sus enormes brazos inflarse para levantar la barra practicamente solo. —Bien, ahi lo quemaste todo —me dijo. —Boludo, me mataste. Mañana no voy a poder ni mover los brazos. —Eso significa que entrenaste bien —me dijo mientras cargaba diez kilos más—. ¿Me seguís? —Dale. Levantó la barra solo y llegó a las diez repeticiones sin que lo ayudara. Después lo ayudé un poco y llegó hasta quince. Hizo cinco más y para las últimas tuve que hacer un poco más de fuerza, pero no demasiado. —Ojalá yo hubiera entrenado así a mis veinte años —dije. —¿No hacías mucho deporte? —Poco y nada. Me picó el bicho del gimnasio a mis treinta. —Mejor tarde que nunca —dijo mientras descargaba la barra; después se acercó y dijo—. La clave está en hacer el movimiento lo más largo posible y apretar fuerte el pectoral al final. Mirá —me dijo que apoyara mi mano en su pecho—. Largo, bien largo y al final apretás con todo el pectoral. ¿Ves? ¿Sentís ahí como apreta? Su pecho era mucho más enorme y duro de lo que había pensado. Ese día entrenamos juntos e hicimos pecho y triceps. Cuando terminé yo estaba sin aire. Nunca había entrenado tan fuerte. Sentía el pecho todo duro y que apenas podía bajar los brazos. Me sentía gigante (obviamente no lo era y menos al lado de él). El pibe se había inflado mucho más. Cuando terminó sus triceps parecían el doble de tamaño. Podía ver que su pecho y sus brazos se habían inflado hasta marcarse debajo de la remera. —Boludo, me mataste —dije. —Jajaja, estuvo muy bien. —Nunca entrené tanto en mi puta vida. —Cuando quieras —me dijo—. Me llamo Nico, ¿vos? Le dije mi nombre y nos saludamos con un puño. —Un gusto —me dijo y se alejó caminando con los brazos enormes y marcados de tanto entrenar.

Here is the first chapter of a new story I've started. You may remember Dixon from a past story called High School. This story focuses on Dixon as he comes to terms with the events of his time as a High School principal and his metamorphosis into a different version of himself. I hope you enjoy. Coming into His Own Chapter 1 Gary Dixon, or just Dixon as he preferred to be called, woke up at the crack of dawn as he did every morning. The springs of his mattress groaned as he stood up and heading down the hall to the kitchen. Armed with a fresh cup of coffee in one hand and a large protein shake in the other, he stepped onto the large covered porch of his cabin just as the sun was cresting over the lake. The last six months had been unusual, but things were starting to feel normal again. Dixon still had flashes of his former students, Jacob and Mark pushing their young bodies beyond the extremes of human developments. He often replayed the two behemoth’s showdown that day in the high school gym. Just the mere thought of their grotesquely massive, 300 plus pound bodies caused Dixon’s thick cock to swell in his shorts. He often yearned to return home to see just how massive the young freaks had become but he knew that was not possible. It was a miracle he was not in legal trouble for the part he played in their demonic growth contest and knew returning would be pushing his luck. Besides, life had retuned to a sense of calm Dixon didn’t think he would ever have again. Finishing his coffee and shake, Dixon turned and caught his refection in the glass window of the cabin he now called home. When he left town, he had beefed up to a respectable 255lbs. While he was dwarfed by Jacob and Mark, in normal circles, he was considered larger than average. The last six months have been beneficial to say the least. Dixon couldn’t resist bouncing his thick, hard pecs in the window’s reflection. At 275lbs his 5’10”, 36 year old body was truly a sight to behold. After leaving town, and subsequently his career, Dixon decided to use a comfortable inheritance he received when his parents passed away over a decade ago. He bought the remote cabin with cash and had spent the first four months renovating it. The bulk of his funds went into converting the dilapidated barn on the large property into a fully equipped gym that would rival most professional facilities. Dixon flipped on the lights and smiled as the huge space came to life. He eyed the stacks of weights and gleaming equipment as he focused his attention on the day’s gruelling work out. Within minutes, the sounds of birds in the surrounding woods was overpowered by the groans and grunts of Dixon’s brutal workout. If there was anyone in the remote woodland, they would have assumed someone was being tortured against their will. “22, 23, 24, UUUGGGGHHHH, 25.” Dixon screamed before letting the 220lb barbell crash to the ground. He stumbled away from the bar and raised his trembling arms into a formidable double bicep pose. His fully-pumped, 21” biceps exploded with raw power. Thick veins criss-crossed their smooth surface as drops of sweat puddled at his feet. Dixon wasted no time before lumbering to the nearby dumbbell rack, grabbing the 80lb weights and started cranking out piston-fast reps. Pain tore though his already pumped biceps as he surpassed 30 reps before dropping the weights. Breathing heavily, Dixon again, struck a double-bicep pose. “FUCK YEAH! Getting bigger,” he growled “but not enough.” Dixon dropped the pose and reached for the 100lb dumbbells. As he hoisted the weights off the rack, his grip faltered and one dumbbell tipped forward and hit the massive floor-to-ceiling mirror. The glass shattered instantly and started to rain down on Dixon’s sweaty body. “SHIT” Dixon screamed and jumped away from the falling glass. Quickly inspecting his exposed flash, Dixon was relieved to see that he had not sustained any injury. His attention immediately returned to the destroyed mirror and related mess. “FUCK, this is going to take forever to clean up!” Dixon cursed both for the mess and the fact that his intense workout had been cut short. He went to the back of the gym and opened the door into the neighbouring garage. He pulled the shop vac off the shelf and returned to the gym. He plugged in the machine and cursed again when he discovered it was no longer working. “FUCK THIS DAY!” Dixon yelled and tossed the vacuum across the room where it shattered against the wooden wall. Dixon took a few deep breathes and headed towards the cabin to eat, shower and figure out where he was going to find a glass store that could replace the broken mirror. “It’s one large mirror measuring 6ft wide and 8ft high.” Dixon said into the phone as he stood in his bedroom, naked and still wet for his shower. He absent-mindedly flexed and relaxed his left quad as he spoke. Barely noticing the 28” slab of beef rippling in the morning sun streaming in the window. “You can’t see if you have anything that big in stock? Can’t you check your computer system?” Dixon was trying hard not to sound frustrated. “When does the store open? 10 a.m.? Ok, thank you.” Dixon said and hung up. “Guess I’m heading into town” He said and opened his closet door. After a few failed attempts at finding an outfit that fit his ever-growing body, Dixon settled on a very tight tank top and tight jeans. On the rare occasion Dixon ventured into town, preferring home deliveries whenever possible, he normally covered up his large body to curb garnering attention. Today however, he was feeling particularly attractive and extra huge, and as he had just discovered, was in need of some bigger clothes. “Looks like it’ll be a whole day in town, mirror, vacuum and clothes shopping.” He said as he hit a quick most muscular pose in the mirror, marvelling at his thick traps rising towards his ears as his neck swelled with power. --- Dixon pulled his Jeep into the parking lot of Baxter Windows and Doors. He glanced at his watch and sighed that it was only 9:37 a.m. He was considering going to grab another coffee when he saw a car pull into the lot. Moments later, the driver got out and approached the main doors with a large key chain in his hand. Dixon got out of his truck and walked up behind the employee. He cleared his throat causing the person to jump two feet in the air, dropping the keys as he did. “FUCK!” Screamed the guy as he spun around to face Dixon. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.” Dixon said. Dixon watched the guy’s eyes widen and scan Dixon’s upper body. He watched him stop at his round shoulders, thick pecs and exposed, ripped arms. “N-n-o-o problem, I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be here this early.” He said without taking his eyes off Dixon’s imposing size. “Again, I’m really sorry I startled you.” Dixon said as he bent down and picked up the keys. As he stood back up he locked eyes with the employee. He was younger than Dixon, maybe in his mid-twenties. He had shaggy brown hair and short stubble on his face. He was wearing a heavy flannel jacket and loose fitting gyms which hide his body. What struct Dixon were is bright, hazel eyes. Dixon handed the keys to the guy and couldn’t help but notice his hand were clammy. “It’s cool. Let me unlock the door and you can come right in. It will just take a minute to turn on the lights.” Once inside, the guy disappeared to the back of the store and as the lights came on, Dixon started to roam around the aisles. A few minutes later, the guy emerged from the back and approached Dixon. He had removed his coat and much to Dixon’s surprise, he now displayed what was hidden underneath. He was wearing a plain black v-neck t-shirt that was pulled tight across his wide upper body. While not nearly as big as Dixon, the guy clearly knew his way around the gym and sported round biceps and a set of thick pecs and wide lats that were visible from the front. “So, how can I help you. Name’s Peter by the way.” “Dixon. I need to replace a mirror, a big mirror.” “We have some mirrors over on aisle three with the other home furnishing items.” Peter said and turned in that direction. “It’s for my gym, it 6ft wide by 8ft high.” Dixon said. Peter stopped dead in his tracks. “Oh shit! That’s a big mirror.” “Yeah, it’s a big gym.” “You mean Hank’s Warehouse in town?” Peter asked. “No, it’s my gym at home.” Peter smiled and scanned Dixon’s body again, “Ah, that explains it then.” “Explains what?” Dixon said. “You look like a bodybuilder and I haven’t see you at Hank’s before, since there aren’t any other hardcore gyms nearby, you must have a pretty great home gym to build that body.” Dixon smiled and felt his chest swell involuntary. “Thanks, yeah, it’s a pretty great set-up. It’s been working for me so far I guess.” “It definitely is man, you are jacked!” Peter replied. “Thanks, not quite jacked but getting there. Long way to go.” Dixon responded. “Really? Shit, I’m stoked I’m 234lb finally, looks like you have 25lbs on me.” “Try 40” “What!?” Peter said with wide eyes. Dixon couldn’t help but chuckle “275lbs yesterday.” “Wow! That’s awesome!” “Thanks, getting there.” Dixon replied. Peter’s stare lingered on Dixon’s body for a few more moments before he turned and refocused on the reason Dixon was here. “Ok, for a mirror that large, we’ll have to order it. It may take a few weeks to arrive. It will have to be delivered. Follow me up front and I get all the details from you.” Dixon followed Peter to the front counter, admiring Peter’s wide back and prominent traps. He had a sudden flash of his former student Mark hoist astronomically heavy weights as he forced his body to grow past 300lbs of grotesquely shredded muscle. Dixon’s mouth went dry and he desperately tried to push the thoughts out of his head. When they arrived at the counter, Dixon barely registered that Peter was had start speaking again. “Dixon? You ok?” “Y-y-yeah, sorry.” He said, regaining his composure and they worked out the details and Peter placed the order. “It was really great meeting you Dixon. Too bad you don’t lift at Hank’s, you’d make a great trainer.” Peter said as they shook hands. “Thanks. I might have to stop by some day and check it out.” “I think I’d rather check out your setup. It’s clearly got everything you need to get huge.” Peter said catching one last glance at Dixon’s tight, vein-covered arm. “Thanks again Peter. I can’t wait to have the mirror replaced. Have a good day.” Dixon said as he walked through the front door. As he approached his truck, Dixon could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He leaned against the vehicle for a moment trying to calm down. He thought about how ridiculous his reaction to Peter was. He knew nothing like what had happened at the high school would ever happen again but it didn’t stop him from reliving that insane time over in his head. Once he felt like he was back to normal, Dixon got in the Jeep and headed in the direction of the hardware store where he was going to buy a new shop vac.

Hi everyone! So I know a number of you are eager for me to write another chapter of The Beach House, and I do still intend to finish it. But I'm honestly feeling kind of stuck with it at the moment. As I was trying to work on it, an idea for another, much shorter story came to me, and I've decided not to fight where my inspiration is leading me and to write this first before coming back to The Beach House. I hope you enjoy reading this in the meantime until I can finish my other project! Chapter 1 “Aaron, why are you wearing a fucking dress shirt?” Leo asked as he, Jake, and Aaron sat down at their usual booth. Aaron blinked in surprise – he clearly hadn’t been expecting such a confrontational greeting. “Why shouldn’t I be?” Aaron asked defensively, compulsively raising a hand to straighten his carefully parted brown hair. “Because it makes you look like a pretentious jackass,” Leo responded swiftly, eliciting a round of giggles from a group of girls sitting behind them. He went on. “I mean, really. Who dresses up for lunch? If you were at school or work, I’d get it. But who are you trying to impress here? Or do you just like being hot and uncomfortable?” “I’m sorry that I like to look good,” Aaron said, crossing his slender arms on the table in front of him. “You don’t look good.” Leo replied. “You look like total loser who dresses up to go out to lunch with his friends.” As they continued to bicker, Jake smiled to himself, having seen this kind of interaction play out a million times. Leo had always been something of a goofball and loved to push people’s buttons, especially Aaron’s. It was honestly a miracle that he had managed to put up with Leo’s antics for so long, but there was just something special about the dynamic between the three of them that had kept them together ever since they were kids, despite their differences. Jake was really going to miss them during their first semester of college this fall. Eventually, the arguing was interrupted by the appearance of their server, who took their orders and then disappeared into the kitchen. Once she was gone, Leo opened his mouth, probably intending to find a new way to needle Aaron, but just as he was about to speak, he was suddenly distracted by something behind Jake. As he saw Leo’s eyes widen, Jake turned around and immediately understood what had captured his attention. A man had just walked in through the door. He was bald, bearded, and ridiculously tall, easily 6’5, maybe taller, and he was also insanely jacked. He was wearing a tight black t-shirt that left absolutely nothing to the imagination about the body underneath. He had huge, cannonball biceps that looked like they were about the split the seams of his sleeves, shoulders so wide he looked like he could barely fit through the door behind him, and forearms as thick as tree trunks. His pecs were massive, and they overhung a set of cobblestone abs that were easily visible through the shirt. He had to be the most muscular man Jake had ever seen. “Look at that guy!” Leo breathed, staring unashamedly at the man as he made his way over to a booth a few rows away from them. “He has to be an Alpha, doesn’t he?” “Definitely,” Jake said, struggling to ignore the twinge of envy he felt as the man reached over to grab the menu at his table, causing his triceps to bulge into an enormous horseshoe. This was actually Jake’s first time ever seeing an Alpha in person, but he knew a lot about them – they had covered the topic in history class last year. Around a century ago, the military had decided to experiment with gene editing to see if they could engineer humans with physical capabilities beyond what was attainable by normal humans. And they succeeded. The result of their experimentation was essentially a subspecies of humans optimized for strength and speed. Their muscle fibers were more efficient and much more responsive to training, making them capable of reaching strength levels far beyond what a normal human could achieve, even through the use of performing enhancing drugs. They were also quite a bit taller on average, had faster response times, a greater VO2 max, and denser bones. However, despite the success of the project, it was eventually abandoned due to ethical considerations. One concern had to do with the risks associated with the gene editing process; although it succeeded in a significant number of cases, the fail rate was high, and those who underwent the failed procedures often ended up with severe health complications, which sometimes proved fatal. So the military halted its experiments, but that wasn’t the end of the story because the synthesized Alpha gene eventually made its way from a few of the successes into the general population, where it continued to exist at a very low frequency. And not only was the gene itself rare, but it was also recessive, so in order to actually express it, you had to have two copies. As a result, the total number of Alphas in the world was very low. “Man,” Leo said, finally tearing his eyes away from the man. “Wouldn’t it be amazing to be an Alpha? It must feel like you’re a fucking superhero!” “Yeah,” Jake said absently, still fixated on the massive muscles bulging all along the man’s arms. “You know, Jake,” Leo said, turning to him with a grin. “I think it’s possible you actually are. We’re about the right age for the signs to start showing up, and you’ve been getting pretty buff recently.” “Oh, come on, Leo,” Jake said, with a laugh, finally looking away from the man. “You think I look anything like that?” “Maybe not yet,” Leo said. “But you could just be starting to show. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re a monster like that guy when you come back from college next summer.” “Stop pulling my leg, Leo,” Jake said, rolling his eyes. But secretly he was very pleased by this suggestion. The truth was that Jake had spent more time that he’d like to admit fantasizing about being an Alpha. He’d been an athlete his whole life and was very competitive, so the idea of being in a completely different league from the rest of his peers was incredibly alluring for him. But Jake knew that, as cool as it would be, it was extremely unlikely to happen – he’d have a better chance of getting struck by lightning. “I’m serious!” Leo said. “You’re looking really swole! Let me see those guns.” Jake rolled his eyes again at this request, but he pushed up a sleeve and gave his arm a flex. It obviously didn’t hold a candle to the Alpha, but it was actually pretty impressive by normal standards, something that Jake was very proud of. As he flexed, his bicep balled up into a nice peak, complete with a thick vein down the middle. “Wow, that’s getting huge!” Leo exclaimed, extending a hand to squeeze the muscle. “And it’s super hard!” Jake kept his arm flexed for a few more moments to let Leo get in a good feel. This was hardly the first time Leo had felt up his biceps; Jake first noticed him getting interested in his muscles a few months after he started lifting, and the flexing requests had now become a frequent occurrence. It was obvious that Leo was very attracted to him, but, even though the feeling wasn’t mutual, Jake did actually enjoy the attention, so he indulged Leo’s fascination with his physique. “Why would you even want to be an Alpha, though?” Aaron asked once Leo had finished feeling Jake’s arm. “You would be disqualified from playing on your college’s lacrosse team and would lose your scholarship.” Aaron did have a point. Because of the enormous physical advantages they possessed, Alphas were not allowed to compete in athletic competitions. It was permitted for a few years, but it quickly became clear that a ban was necessary because Alphas without much training in their sport were just destroying the competition in high-level sporting events. Their participation was especially problematic in contact sports like lacrosse because they were so strong that it was very easy for them to unintentionally injure their opponents. These problems, in spite of their low numbers, led to laws preventing them from competing in official competitions at any level. “Yeah, that’s true,” Jake said. “But I feel like if I had the choice, it would be a sacrifice that I’d be willing to make. Being super strong and fast would just be too cool to turn down.” “I don’t understand why,” Aaron said bluntly. “Seems like it would just create problems for you.” Jake didn’t really expect Aaron to understand. He was a very cerebral guy who never really got the appeal of grinding in the gym to beat your personal best on the bench or on the track to beat your last mile time. He'd never felt the rush that comes with realizing that you are the biggest and strongest guy in the room. The only kind of self-improvement that Aaron was interested in was completely different in nature; he’d spent the past four years focused on getting good grades and setting himself up to get into a good college. And it had definitely paid off – he was going to M.I.T. in the fall. But his single-minded concentration on his own goals also sometimes prevented him from relating to other people’s desires and ambitions. “I guess,” Jake said. A few moments later, the server came back with their food, and their conversation came to an end. - - - Although he knew Leo had just been entertaining a fantasy when he suggested that Jake might be an Alpha, the idea kept hovering around at the back of Jake’s mind for the rest of the day. Later that night, as Jake was getting undressed to take a shower, he stopped to take a good look at his body in the mirror. He honestly thought he looked great. His pecs were really starting to fill out, and his abs looked more defined than he’d ever seen them. He ran a hand through his mop of shaggy blond hair and noted the way his bicep swelled with the motion. After spending a few more moments spent staring in the mirror, he decided to measure himself; if he was getting taller, that would be a better indication that something was up. He went back into his room to get a pencil and a tape measure. He lined himself up against the wall, drew a little mark level with the top of his head, measured the height of the mark, and was shocked to discover that he was now 5’11, a whole inch taller than the last time he’d measured himself! He tried not to get his hopes up too much; he knew that this was all probably just a result of a late growth-spurt combined with his hard work in the gym. But it was hard to extinguish the little spark of hope he felt that there was a chance there was something more going on. Who knew? Anything could happen . . .

Chapter 1 Cal was searching frantically in the supply room. “Let’s go, boys! On the field in five!” Shit shit shit.” His first practice and he didn’t have a uniform. He counted himself lucky to be on the football team as a freshman, but being late to his first practice wouldn’t bode well for his future. His parents had helped him buy his own set of pads, pants, and cleats, but he was supposed to get a jersey from the school. If it wasn’t for his ass of a math teacher he would’ve been early to get a jersey, but now he was shit out of luck. Pushing aside old bags of deflated balls and pads that still reeked of B.O., his hopes dashed by a jersey only to find a huge tear in it. He could feel his heartbeat faster as he counted down the seconds. “Fuckin finally!” Pulling a jersey out of the corner, he inspected it quickly. Still sporting the school colors but in an almost retro design. No holes, rips, and it didn’t smell that bad, it was, however, nearly 4 sizes too large. Standing at a proud 6’0 and 183 lbs, Cal was a size large, an xl accounting for his pads. Checking the tag, it was a size 5xl. Putting it on, cursing his luck. Checking in the mirror, the collar and sleeves were disproportionately huge, the waist billowing halfway down his thighs. Still, it was manageable and would probably last until he could get a fresh jersey. Running out to the field, his oversized jersey billowing around him. The other players were already on the field doing warmups, Coach Stevens off to the side talking to the quarterback and a couple of other seniors. Joining everyone else for what seemed like a couple of laps around the field, Cal took the opportunity to check out his fellow teammates. It was hard to tell under everyone’s gear, but it looked like Cal was the biggest freshman there. He was still clearly outmatched by some of the more seasoned athletes. Still, he was proud of how far he’d come. He spent his junior high years playing soccer and only recently started lifting weights in his free time. By the time Summer started, the repeated soccer practices and games started to lose their excitement. It had started out fun, the competition, the training, the wins. But after a few weeks, it didn’t seem as exhilarating. Soon lured by the intensity of football, Cal found himself admiring the lifestyle. The games, the intensive training, the social life. Starting in June, he began working out, increasing his calorie intake, and even started taking supplements. He remembered fondly the thrill of first seeing the fruits of his labor. After two weeks of his regiment, he felt his shirtsleeves starting to bunch up over his biceps. Soon he could feel his pecs start to press out against the fabric. He practiced flexing in the mirror, seeing his muscle tone increase week by week. By the time Fall came around, he proudly marked his progress over the summer in his head: 1 inch taller and 23 lbs of bulk added to his powerful frame. Cal could feel his pulse beginning to rise as he quickened his pace. The excitement of actually being on the field, Cal tried to take it all in. The smell of sweat and fresh grass filling his lungs, his cleats digging into the field as he jogged ahead. Completing their laps, the players gathered round for a quick introduction and an overview of their games for the season. Remorsefully, Cal accepted that he wouldn’t be able to play most of the season’s games. Going out on the field in groups, Cal paired himself up with two other freshman newbies for some beginner tackles. Trusting his size and abilities, Cal prepped himself to rush the faux quarterback and the poor guy protecting him. The ball was thrown and Cal launched himself at the receiver, taking him down in a tumble. Cal could feel his muscles vibrating with energy as he jumped back up, ready to go again. That whole afternoon, it seemed like nothing could tire him. They kept going until sunset. By then everyone was ready to collapse, but Cal felt like he could keep going for hours. Getting home and tossing off his sweaty clothes, he got into the shower. Feeling the heat from his pumped muscles escape into the frigid water, Cal relaxed his energized body. As the water crept up in temperature, he paid close attention to his groin. Proud of what he had for his age, Cal soaped up his schlong and balls. Swinging to its full 6.5 inches, he gently stroked it. Getting out of the shower, his hard on bouncing up and down, Cal started to towel off his muscular torso. Looking down, he could feel something off about his point of view. His normally small but hard pecs looked bigger, protruding further out. Checking himself in the mirror, he could tell his frame was much thicker than it was that morning. Jumping on the scale, it read 195. “195? What the fuck?!” Out of nowhere, a deep voice behind him chuckled, “Awesome right?”

(So this is my First post, is an slow phase, i apologize if something ends up confusing cause english isn't my first language, hope u enjoy). Part-1 Sometimes things work out not the way you expect, but the result is definitly better then expected... Hi i'm Daniel, 25, Brazilian, and this is the story of how an doc apointment changed my life, but before i tell u that let me give some context, it may sound sily but as i grew up i allways admired the older men who sported a full beard, i couldn't explain but something on the way they look that made anxious to grow and start to cultivate my own, this desire started around when i was 10 and the oportunity that i had to tell people that when i grow up i was going to use my beard proud, i took it be they family or not. Years past by, and now i'm 16, 5,4 tall, the age when the puberty strikes men like a train, growth spruts in the hole body, facial and pubic hair and so on, but not for me, at the time i was only able to watched as my friends developed way more then me, gaining muscles, beards, even some deep tones on the voice, but i didn't change an hair, somehow i was stuck, seamed that my growth was way slower and way lass efective then the other boys, and of course that got me some trouble, There was this kid that was the bully of the school, and things couldnt be worse cause he was a classmate, he allways peak on me, with his signature question: "where is your beard little Daniel?" , and of course he had to be the one who was most graced by puberty (and genetics), he was the same age as me almost 6ft tall, bearded with an atletic body and a bulge that he loved to show off in the school shorts, his name was John, and boy he tormented me until the high school ended. As the age of 20 i had to get a job to help my mom cause we are a poor family, and her alone had to get food for me and my two sisters, so i started a job in a famous supermarket in the downtown, wich i had a fair wage being an asistant menager, i was lucky that the owner knew me when i was helping my mom who is a diarist, and we ended up cleaning his house, then he talked to me and said that he needed one asistant in his store, ofering me an interview and there i was. I still didn't developed trought the ages i'm 5,6ft, an avarage body starting to get some belly, with an 4.3' hard cock that i'm kinda ashamed of, still no beard, i tryed treatments for it but nothing worked. It was a good place to work, the costumers didn't gave us many problems and my manager Phill , 38 years old, a little chubby, starting to get bald, was an awesome men, always suporting the employes, with a good sense of humor and kindness. Lerned a lot with this dude. Sometimes Phill left me in charge to close the store, and that was no problem, but it was in one of this closing shifts that i saw a guy walking arround the aisles, and something seemed familiar on him... but i let it go cause i had to pay atention if my coleagues need any help as i was the "manager" on duty, and if by magic, an costumer returned some itens she wans't buying anymore, so i got them and started to return them to the coresponding shelves, i was crouched when sudenly i hear a deep voice behind me saying: - "Hey buddy, whould u mind show me were are the peanut butter are?" - "They are in the next aisle, come with...." as i speak i turn my attention to the guy, because i was crouched the first thing i see is a huge bulge in front of me, and then as a rush of embarrassement i stand up to see this muscular men, should be around 6,2ft tall towering over me , light skin toned, black short hair, full beard, using a tight red tshirt showing the countour of his abs and chest, and his veiny arms holding the basket. - "Co.. come with me." - i nod to him as he follow me to the next aisle where i show him where the peanut butter are. - "Oh! you guys have the best one of them, the ones with some pieces of peanut left, Thanks mate!" He reach to great me with a hand shake, i great him as he hit me with a strong grip, and he stops and stand looking at me with a cocky grin, still holding the grip. This last for like five seconds and made me unconfortable, so i managed to escape his hand shake. - "Are u good sir?" - i asked confused by what just happened. - "Don't u remember me?" - "I don't think so" - i ansewer more confused looking at his face. - "You definitly didn't change a bit little Daniel." As a lightning strike, my mind blows as i start to assimilate that this huge dude in front of me is John. - "John?" - "The one and only" - he answers still with the cocky grin - "i didnt notice at first, but u really didn't change since last time we met." I stand there giving a second look at him, and doing so i could see that his bulge just bounced, and if i wasn't embarassing enough i try to recompouse myself. - "And you are taller and stronger then ever, mother nature really has his favorites." - i made a joke to look like i don't care. - "HAHA! you noticed?" - he laught and flexed one of his arms. He was allways a show off, and i didnt have too much to talk to him, as he stoped his "show" he looked me up and down, and i said: - "So if u need anithing else..." - i said with a forced smile and start to back up to return the last of the itens. - "Nah i'm good, i won't bother you anymore you sure have work to do, was nice to see you." And that was the cue i needed to just rush to the back where the manager room is and sit there for a time processing. This was akward and terrifying for me, cause now he knows i work here and as an employe i need to attend him, so i'm afraid the days of high school coming back, if he still the bully he was, sure going to see him in the store again. I thought i would never see him again... John, oh god he was in an amazing form, strong as a bull, his beard was full and well trimmed, if i didn't knew him i would bet he was on esteroids. hes probably getting a lot of girls just by looking at them. and what the hell i was thinking checkin him, and why does his bulge bunced, was already big enought in high school but now is even bigger should be around 8'... why am i thinking in this. Shit i cant help to be jealous of John. A week passed after i saw John in the store, and i was relieved as he didnt apeard at all. This week i was on day shifts, doing my usual work, until Phill calls: - "Hi Phill whats up?" - "Hey Dan, i was going to text you last night, but i forgot and thats why i'm calling." - "Oh no problem, is something wrong?" - "So, as i said last night a guy came to the front desk searching for you, and i notice that he came in the night before too, he sure was looking for something but didn't ask for help." - "Looking for me?" - i asked confused, but i was curious - "Did he say his name?" - "No, he just said it was an old friend." - "I see..." - for sure was John, he probably looking for me to mock me in some way, he won't leave me alone. - "And what did u told him?" - "I told him you are on day shifts this week, so hes probably be showing up." - "You what?" - i asked with such genuine fright that my voice almost broke. - "oh i'm sorry... is everything ok with u guys? are u in any trouble?" Phill asked with concern. - "no, no, i just wasnt expecting that, you caught me off guard" - "oh what a relief, u sounded like this guy was looking to beat u up, and youre hiding from him. and judging by his frame, he can break you like a twigh" Phill shout a great laught. I didn't replied so he said: - "Anyway, sorry for letting him know when to find you, but he said it was a friend so i didn't bother to tell him that, if he shows and cause any trouble call the security, ok? stay safe" - "No problem, stay safe you too, see you latter" After this call i started to be concern by why John is looking for me, and got a little bit anxious cause he could be here at any time, but that feeling passed throughout my shift as i do my chores, and while i was talking with a costumer i hear on the microfone: "attention Manager please come to the front desk". I finished with that costumer and head on to the front desk, on my way trought the main aisle that leads to the front desk, i see this tall guy waiting with his back to me. sudenly i was frozen in the aisle wandering what sould i do, then the girl on the front desk see me standing there and said to the guy: - "oh, there he is" and point towards me. I continue make my way towards them as the guy turns to me, it was John indeed. I approach him wondering what on earth he is doing here, waiting for the worst to come. He was wearing social clothes like we wear in business meetings, and i was surprized they didnt riped as he moves cause they ware tight and look like the buttons on his shirt are going to burst at any second. - "How can i help you John?" - "Hey lit... Daniel, do you got a minute? i want to talk to you" - he asked with his deep voice in a soft way. - "Sure"- i said with a little bit of concern cause he was just about to call me little Daniel, and he is talking to me way diferent them he usualy did. - "Could it be ... like... private?" I gave him a confuse look and i ask: - "Do you mind to be on the cafeteria tables? at this time no one uses there so is private enaught i guess." He nod in agree and so i start to make way to the caferia. - "please take a seat" i said still with my concerned face while he managed to fit his frame on the table and i could see he was kinda shy, and even a little blushed spot on his white face. - "So i wanted to talk to you cause last time we met here, i ended up thinking in how bad i treated you in the past, we ware teenagers, and i was really mean and disrespectful with you, so i need to apologize. i was shocked with his words, i took a minute to process and said: - "Oh, thats nice of you, is literaly a change of habits... i accept the apologies, but was long years of bulling you know, that left some scars." - "and thats why i came here i know what i did was bad, and i want to compensate it" - "Compensate? what do you mean with that?" - "so to start i want to invite you to grab some beer, do you drink?" - " a bit, but..." - "so thats it then" - he stoped me - "i want to talk more with you but i guess this isn't the place for what i want to say" - "Dude you came from nothing after those years mocking me and want to get a beer to talk something you cant say here? thats weird" - "i see... so.. sorry if i ended up an weirdo. i really do apologise for all i did, but i don't want to presure you." John said almost like a dog that made some mess and is being reprended for it. I stood there waitng for his next move until he reached for his pocket and game me a card - "What is it?" - i asked. - "This is my number, when u feel ready to get that beer, text me" - "ok" And with that he stood up and reach me for another hand shake. We finished our talk and he left as i continued working. the doubt of what he wanted to tell me was consuming my mind, it passed 2 days since he came to me, i was wandering if he was managing an prank with the other bullies, but i couldn't help the curiosity to know what was all that about, John defnitly was diferent, not just the body, but his attitude was diferent, back them he would never do this, so i gave a chance and got his card to text him. As i opened the app to text him i saw that that was his private number not a corporative one, i could tell by his picture, he was standing flexing his abs and an arm in front of the mirror, and that jealousi came again, it was inevitable you know he was in his prime while i still the same weak twigh from high school. the text went as: - "yo John, Daniel here, so i'm off for the weekend, let me know ir you're abble to grab that beer." - "Great, do you have a preference of place?" - "I usually drink at home so... not at all" - "ther is this Pub called Storage, can i met u there tomorow eight o'clock?" - "seams good." - "ok i wait you there" when i arrived at the Storage pub i was amazed by the place, they are runnig for a month and i didn't heard about them, there was a lot of tables in the front, and some more privates at the back beside the bar, the place wans't crowded but there was a good amount of people there, an waitress greats me and i asked if the tables in the back were booked, she said that they do book them, so i asked to check if there was a reserve in name of John or Daniel, and by surprize he did book us a table, and arriving at it, i saw why he sugested this place, there is no way to see the other tables around us and even the sound of the place music mufled the people talking so it was a nice spot to talk. I was wearing an jacket cause the weather was cold, but inside the pub was warm, so as i was managing to remove the jacket, i spoted Jhon being lead by the waitress. He was using a brown leather jacket that enhanced his biceps, and i could see that he draw atention of the hole pub as he was walking by. I stood up to great him with a hand shak as usual but instead he rushed and gave me a bear hug, i coud felt his hard muscles almost crushing me, and boy he definitly work out a lot caus those thinghs ware stone hard. i was confused cause i didnt think we ware this close so after the hug he started: - "Dude you made me happy acepting my invite" - "i can see that, cause you almost broke my back with this suden hug" - "oh sorry about that" - "i will be fine" - "did you ordered?" - "i got only a cup of glass waiting for you" - "oh so lets order and then we talk ok" - "sure" i ordered a beer and some fries, John was indecised of what to order, so i excuse myself to go to the bathroom, on the way back to the table i see the waitress just left the beers for us, arriving at the table i can see that john also removed his jacket an now he was with a gray tshirt this one was more loose in the body and shure they let u get to see his muscles. so i set down and said: - "ready when u are" - "yeah, so i'm doing some therapy and i came to you to apologise after i saw what i did." - "oh now it make sense, god, i was thinking this was some kind of prank, and i was afraid to come here today" - "ouch, thats fair" - "i'm happy you gatting help with your fellings" - "and saing that i need to apologize for mocking you about the beard, i realize that this must be a fragile subject to you" - "and sure is, i'm doing therapy too, and on it i descovered that i have a "beard complex" you know" - "that's ruff, bud. - "yeah" And we ware stoped by the waitress who came with the fries. The following minute we ware just there looking to each other, until John start again: - "so, i got an ideia that may help you" - "oh really, i tried a lot of things so, surprize me" - "not long ago after i started the therapy i was caught in a angry and stressed state that i searched for help, i went to a doc to see if anyhing was wrong, we made some tests, and in the blood ones he saw that was something off" - "something off?" - "yeah, he then send me to this endocrinologist Dr.Leo, and i show him the exams, and he said that i was having an overdose os testosterone, he though i was doing anabolics, but i never took one." - "and you're ok now?" - "sure, as you said the other day stronger then ever" - "so where do i fit in this?" - "you allways, said you wanted to use a beard, and u didnt change much on puberty" - "this if i had one" - "exactly, imagine if is hapening to you the oposite of what hapened to me? like you got lack of testosterone os something" - "but i went to some docs and they ran tests too and they said it was all ok" - "you didn't went to Dr.Leo" - "what he has so special" - "he is a great doc you will see, i will send you his number, make an apointment and you first consult is on me" - "wait what, no way i'm letting u pay" - "i said i would compensate so let me do it... for our friendship reset?" - "all right, for the friendship reset" i didnt notice but we ware starting to get drunk and john was starting to blush, i closed the bill and thought it was my time to go home but John said the night was just starting, and he grabed me with ease and put me on his shouders holding my legs and headed to his car outside the pub. everybody in the pub saw this massive dude holding a twigh trought the pub, i obviusly furious asked: - "what the hell are you doing?" - "we are going to party baby" - "no way, i'm going home" - "after the party i let you home come on, you need to get some fun sometimes, nothing bad is going to happen" he wasn't leting me get away with this one i could tell that - "ok, ok but put me down i'm not a kid" with that he put me down and we get in his car that he drove to a club, place was crowded, loud music, definitly wasn't the place i used to go, so John got us some drinks and i don't know what was on those but ther were good, i ended up drinking a lot and then my mind goes to blank, i don't remember nothnig from the rest of the night. as i woke up in the next day my head was buzzing, and i needed a coffe, i look arround and i'm at my house, ok John kept his promisse to get me home afterwards,it was an cozy apartment i manage to get on my old neighborhood, it was located close to were my mom and sisters lived, i left to let the girls more espace and privacity since they used to share a room, and lefting my old room to one of them. i made my morning routine normaly and went to the kitchen to make me a mug of coffe, when passing by the living room door i notice that the sofa bed was opend, and all i could see was a foot pointing at me, but at the distance i was i couldnt tell who the hell was on my couch, i wanted to call the police, but something caught my atention, the person was naked? on my couch? when i notice i was approaching the person, when i saw that there was a brown jacket tossed on the floor, and beside was an gray tshirt... thats got to be Jhon in my couch i still didn' get a sigh of his naked body, and i was heading back to the kitchen but something inside me wanted to see, that men, that msucle dude naked on my couch. So i turn arround and i head to the couch i made slow staps towards it cause i dont want to john wake up and get me staring at him naked. with each step i can see more of his body, started being able to see his chest wich was coverd with a thin layer of black fur that lead to his chiseled abs and then i almost made noise when i saw that his shaft was hard with a morning wood, it must be an 9 inches hard, seeing his this way full naked, he was so hot, i was hit with a misture os lust and envy, cause he was bigger them me in all the ways possibles, and somehow this greek god ended up naked on my couch, how the hell this hapend. i stood there looking in awe, then i realize that i was getting a hard on, my 5 inch was getting solid like a rock, so i made my way back to the kitchen, trying to avoid my mind of what just happend. and now i gotta make coffe for two. by the time the coffe was done i hear something on the living room. sudenly a deep voice call me -"Dan?" part 2 soon - hope you guys liked - any feedback will be great.

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

I'm pretty excited to drop pages 1 & 2 of my second comic, "Mikey's Perfection". Lance isn't really making progress, hopefully that'll change soon... If you like my stuff, please consider giving me a follow on Twitter https://twitter.com/GDSMuscleFreaks I've kinda been bad with posting activity. Sorry about that! Just had a few things happening - I'll be posting more regularly now. Cheers, GD

A spooky story, just in time for Halloween... Anyways, some grey areas of consent coming up. If that's not your thing then its not recommended to keep reading. Otherwise, hope you enjoy Part I As I peered through my mask at the inky black sky littered with dim starlight, I couldn’t help but notice the moon’s absence. For the first time, it struck me as odd how that luminous sphere, our only friend to guide us through the dark and somber night with the thinnest sliver of reflected sunlight, was so utterly and thoroughly vilified in our common mythology, made to transform us into beasts and bound by its very name to the idea of lunacy. A witch with a plastic nose and a ghost in an oversized sheet ran under my feet, pulling me from my thoughts. Their little feet splashed through puddles of muddy rainwater that filled the cracks in the pavement. As the ripples settled, vague reflections of monstrous beings whirred in and out of existence, their forms given life by the saccharine glow of cheap pumpkin lanterns. I placed my own steps carefully, lifting my cape to protect my costume from stains while on my way to the party. Looking up, I was surprised at how little of the festival had changed in my decade long absence. I smiled softly. Somehow the same rickety fair rides and lackluster hay bales still attracted the same number of people as when I was a kid. Families milled about aimlessly, kids pulling them in the direction of candy and stuffed toys. I could see the peeling paint on more than a few booths, atrophied over years of storage in preparation for their lackluster annual debut. One booth, however, caught my attention. The neon outline of a diviner’s palm spilled out incandescent lavender light, illuminating the satin sheets framing the booth’s entrance. A verdant neon eye gazed out from the palm’s center, expressionless and haunting in its dull radiance. Perhaps it was because it had no sign or name, but I couldn’t find it anywhere in my memory. It stood in the formerly vacant plot between Janine’s technicolor House of Sweets and an unattended pumpkin carving station, seeming harshly juxtaposed in spite of matching the overall theme of the festival. A vampire and a minion stood timidly before the cavernous entrance, daring each other to go inside. One braved a single step forward, only to immediately flee in the opposite direction. The other followed after him. Still holding up my cape, I deviated from my path towards the new booth. A thin strip of light emanated from behind the closed curtains. Anticipation and fear knotted up in my chest, although it was hard to say why. Nothing individually about this carnivalesque collection of drapes and neon should have been any cause for alarm. And yet here I was, drowning in autonomic overdrive. My heart pounded vociferously, begging me to listen to my better judgment. I could feel my breath tremble against my mask. I pushed the curtains aside, drawn in almost inexorably. To my disappointment, the interior was somewhat conventionally decorated. Vague collections of stars and moons were plastered against the satin backdrop. A bowl of charred bones sat in a golden dish at the center of the round table. The smoke of candles choked the air. The interior seemed somewhat larger than the outer dimensions would suggest, but otherwise there was nothing even vaguely disturbing to be found. I sighed in relief. A large man swept a certain aside and sat down silently at the table. His deep brown eyes bored into mine as his thick hands and wrists deftly cleared the bones from the tray. A crisp white shirt adorned his frame, with gold edges at the sleeves and collar. His hair was cropped short and his jaw was outlined with stubble. He exuded masculinity, and while the exact shape of his body was hidden by his baggy clothes his silhouette seemed, at least, formidable. “Hello and welcome,” he stated confidently. “Hi,” I muttered. “What would like to learn today?” I stuttered for a moment, taking a seat. “I’m not really sure. I’ve never done this before. Don't I just show you my palm? Or you stare into a crystal ball?” I asked ignorantly. He chuckled. “I have many talents. It works better if you ask what you want from this session. Then I can find the path of divination that works best for you.” Well, might as well give an earnest go, I thought. What is there to lose? “I want to know if I should stay here, in this town, or if it’s time to move on,” I said, attempting not to avert my gaze. He stared at me intently. “Is that all?” “It seems like a big enough question on its own, yeah...” “I meant that people usually provide more information to guide their question, but…” I opened my mouth to respond but he continued, “I guess that will have to do. In which case, we don't need to resort to anything as dramatic as scrying the future or...palm reading,” he said, his voice lightened by a hint of sarcasm. He pulled out an opaque dusty blue crystal suspended on a silver chain. “Here, let me show you how it works.” He held it between his index finger and his thumb. It hung there limply. The entire tent was silent except for the soft sounds of flames flickering and wax dripping from candles. I couldn’t help but blush at his conventionally handsome face concentrating on mine, and decided to focus on the crystal instead. “Show me yes.” Within seconds it swung left and right, slowly at first, but as it gained momentum its route transformed into a figure of eight. My vision started to go hazy and my eyelids felt heavy. My head sunk, and my arms felt like weights attached to my sides. My whole world went dark. It felt like my subconscious had put the rest of my body on autopilot. I heard the snapping of fingers, and I jolted upright. “Are you okay?” he said, my hearing and vision still coming back into focus. “Yeah, I'm fine.” I shook my head, finally gaining a sense of clarity. “Was that it? Trippy…” I paused momentarily, but I was met with silence. “What was the answer?” “No, no, that was just to show you what to do. You were supposed to hold the crystal and ask it the question you desired it to answer.” He paused, a slight curvature forming on his lips. “But, considering your response, I think we should try something else.” He ruffled around under the table to his right and pulled out the base of a pendulum. Attaching the chain at the top, he set the blue crystal in motion and gestured at me to focus on the swinging object. “All you have to do is listen to my voice.” I could feel my head getting heavy already. “Take a deep breath in, and a deep breath out.” My thoughts started to recede into the deep well of my subconscious. A warmth arose in my groin. “Your eyelids are getting heavy” My eyes fell shut. I tried to move my arm to support my head, but I found myself incapable of even lifting my hand. My body sunk like a heavy sandbag, plunging further away from my conscious perception. “I'm going to count backwards from ten, and with each number you will feel yourself falling twice as deep.” I could feel my erection rise as my consciousness fell, but I was powerless to stop it. I blacked out. -- I awoke when to a loud snap right next to my ear. A small amount of drool wicked at the edge of my lip. Suddenly aware of my inappropriate erection, I struggled to adjust the lower half of my costume covertly. “Thank you for participating. Based on the responses you provided while you were under, it’s clear to me that you want to stay,” he said. My mind was too foggy to form a coherent response. He chuckled. He slid a card across the table. “Thanks”, finally mumbling something semi-intelligible. “How much do I owe you?” “Don't worry, this one's free of charge. It's a festival, after all.” Odd, I thought, but hardly odder than anything else since I’ve stepped into this tent. He stowed the pendulum away, and gestured to the exit. “You’re free to take your leave,” he said, disappearing behind the curtain. I immediately stood up and left the tent, thrust back out into the chilly, humid night. I stumbled a little, apparently still getting reacquainted to the autonomy of my own body. There was no one around anymore. I must have spent more time in that tent than I thought, but that hardly mattered to me right now. All I could think about was getting home. I couldn’t escape the horrible feeling that something inside me had fundamentally transformed, and I craved the familiar setting to calm my nerves. Somewhere on the path, stopping in the still darkness, I finally thought to take off my mask. I stared at the blank sky above me, trying to search for what inside me had changed. I could find nothing. If I had been altered, it was too well hidden for me to find it. When I finally got home, I opened up my phone to find over twenty new texts. Shit. The party. I responded to one string of messages that I was still alive but feeling sick, and immediately fell asleep. -- I awoke to the rhythmic hum of rain beating on the roof. I found the steady pitter patter soothing in comparison to last night’s events. The chill of cold, wet air was seeping into my room, and I almost fell back asleep huddled beneath my covers. Instead a sudden burst of energy welled up inside me. Within seconds I was on the floor, doing pushups and sit ups. My body ached with pain after only a few sets. I could barely move, and I fell asleep again on the floor. My alarm woke me up not half an hour later. My body felt tight but was surprisingly not sore. I stretched absentmindedly, the rain now pouring down. I hadn't made any plans for the day, and I shuffled my feet towards the kitchen. By the time I opened my waffle maker I felt a click somewhere in my head. This wasn’t what I wanted to do. I wanted to go to the gym. No one was at this small town gym on an early Sunday morning. The man behind the counter looked like he was about to fall asleep, his scruffy chin falling back into his oversized sweater. I swiped my card and started with some pull ups. My mind felt a little hazy during the lift session. I wasn’t really sure if I knew what I was doing, but my body seemed to be moving on autopilot. An hour later I was drenched in sweat and my chest felt really tight. The man at the counter had fallen asleep. He didn't notice when I left. On the way home I stopped at the nearest restaurant and ordered twice the amount of food I normally do, along with some extra to go home. I was sure the wait staff had a few eyebrows raised watching a guy my size eat so voraciously, but I didn’t even think to feel ashamed. I had worked hard and I was hungry. It felt good to be full after a big work out. The rain had let up some by the time I had made my way back home. I barely had time to shower before I immediately fell asleep again. I awoke 8 hours later in the dark, feeling refreshed. I hadn’t even made it out of bed before I had the urge to hit the gym again. I met the same slumped over employee at the check in counter. "Back again, bro?" He asked, seemingly uninterested in his own question. "Yeah, I...I guess so. Just feeling really into it today, I guess." "Whatever floats your boat, my man. It's been a slow day all around." Huh, that’s weird. How did I end up here again? And on the same day? Well, might as well get a work out in while I’m here… That session was followed by the largest meal I’ve ever eaten in my life, the deepest sleep, and yet another grueling session in the gym. An undetermined number of days passed this way. I turned down any replies for job interviews I had sent out when I moved here. If my friends texted me, I’d just answer, “Busy”. At first I would just eat whatever I could get my hands on, but I slowly found myself only able to eat rice, meat, and veggies. If the local gym was closed when I woke up, I’d drive to the nearest 24 hour gym. In one of the clearer moments, the pale face of the full moon met my upward gaze. Hadn’t I been here before? Wasn’t I supposed to feel something? My mind was blank. If anything used to be there, it had sunk far, far down. Well, no matter. I opened the door to the gym, ready to get pumped. Part 2 coming...eventually, lol

Previous chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 — Graduation Fuck Austin pulled into the driveway of their house, the truck laboring as he shifted into park. It wasn’t meant to haul around this heavy of a load in the bed; the handling and acceleration was awful the whole drive home, and he could smell burning rubber whenever he hit the brakes. They would need to upgrade the truck to something bigger soon to keep up with Jon’s growth. Austin came around to the tailgate and opened it. A slimy layer of precum dripped out of the truck bed and onto the driveway as he did, and Austin looked up to see Jon sheepishly scratching the back of his head, exposing his enormous furry armpit and flexing his titanic bicep. His jock was soaked with pre and a steady stream of it leaked out of his cock head. “Oh pup, you’re just raring to go, huh?” Austin teased as he gestured for his big daddy to get out of the truck. “All that vibration from driving got you even more worked up, I bet,” he said. “Grrrmmmpphhhh, ruuarrrfff!” Jon whined as he shifted off of the truck and onto the ground. He rose to his full height, towering over Austin, literally twice his height and over twelve times his weight. Jon reached up and adjusted his harness, the leather creaking and metal studs and rings jingling against his neck chain and padlock. “Come around to the backyard,” Austin said as he led his bullpup around the house. Jon didn’t fit inside the house anymore, not comfortably anyway. Austin had started the process of finding a new property to move into, ideally one with a large warehouse or hangar or barn that could be converted into a living quarters for the growing brute. Jon’s growth had only accelerated over the last few weeks and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon; Austin had to plan for BIG things in the future! Suddenly from behind, Austin was grabbed and lifted up and spun around. “Mmrrowwff, mmphhh!!” Jon grunted as he nuzzled his pup mask against Austin, rubbing his Sir. He lowered him down and started rubbing Austin again his sweaty, furry chest and gut, then lower still until Austin could feel Jon’s slimy cock pressing insistently against his pants. “Whoa there, pup, so eager to please your Sir, aren’t you?” Austin said calmly. He was used to his pup getting boisterous sometimes when he was excited and knew how to handle him. “Well first we need to do another weigh-in. Put me down and hop on the scale, bull,” Austin commanded. “AARROOOF!” Jon boomed, still locked into pup-speak. When he was in pup space like this, he was only capable of simple thoughts and ideas and speech, but that’s how his master liked it. Jon set Austin down and then waddled over to the scale. They had set it on the concrete pad next to the deck after Jon had partially destroyed the deck a few weeks ago. The scale creaked and groaned as Jon stepped on. Jon, of course, couldn’t see down to what the number read; his blond and grey bushy beard, enormous shelf-like pecs, and round, hard gut blocked his view. “Wow bullpup, we finally did it. We passed the limit!” Austin said excitedly. “Over 3000 pounds officially, pup. Goddamn you’ve been growing FAST lately!” Austin said as he reached up and smacked Jon’s round, meaty ass that protruded from the tight straps of his jock. “You don’t seem to be slowing down, pup, you just keep growing more and more!” Jon stepped back off of the scale and looked down at his Sir. He grinned through his pup mask, cocked his head to one side, and brought his fists together. He flexed hard, the fur of his pecs curling into wet rings, sweat dripping down off his huge, meaty nips onto Austin. “Bigger?” Jon grunted, knowing the answer but still wanting to hear it from his master. “That’s right, bull, bigger than ever, growing so much for me like a good pup,” Austin cooed, reaching up to rub Jon’s round, solid gut and furry, sweaty chest, which he couldn’t quite reach. “Still gotta keep getting bigger though!” “WWRROOOOOF!!” bellowed the big daddy muscle bear. “BIGGER!” He straightened to his full height. Jon’s throbbing bulge strained his jock strap and threatened to rip it open. Austin walked up onto the deck and gestured for Jon to follow him on the ground. The deck was about two feet raised up off the ground, which gave him a little more height. The wooden railing on the deck was still in the way though. “Tear out this railing, pup,” Austin said. Jon reached down and grabbed the railing at the base where it connected with the deck boards and tugged up hard with a grunt. The railing tore out with a loud snap. He did this one-by-one until the whole thing was disconnected. “Destroy it, pup, tear it all apart,” Austin demanded, rubbing his erection as he watched his big stepdad manhandle the heavy deck wood. “RRROOWWFF!” Jon boomed happily, then brought his fists down on the deck railing hard. Wood splintered and the deck shook. Jon grunted as he grabbed the top railing and pushed down and in, pressing and snapping the wood together like an accordion. He tossed half of it into the yard, laughing and grunting, then shifted over and did the same on the rest of it, relishing the opportunity to use his strength without holding back, his muscles tensing and bulging, veins throbbing as he destroyed the deck railing in seconds. “That’s my pup, big and strong!” Austin said. “Down on your knees, pup, now,” Austin ordered. Jon thumped down to the ground, the earth shaking as his tonnage dropped hard. He was kneeling in front of Austin, who was almost at eye level now. Jon’s gut surged forward onto the deck, his bulge pressing the side of the porch, his wide shoulders, harness-bound chest, and massive arms filling Austin’s field of view. “Flex for me, pup, show me those muscles,” Austin said, stepping closer to Jon. Jon raised his arms up and flexed his biceps, the round, hard peaks exploding up like mountains. Every inch of his torso was covered in dense, dirty blond fur, matted and curled by sweat. Jon’s pits were exposed as he flexed, and Austin was assaulted by the heady, cloying stink of Jon’s musk. “This new cycle has you smelling extra good, pup,” Austin said as he stepped closer, reached up, and squeezed the impossibly huge biceps. He buried his face in Jon’s left pit and huffed deeply, smearing bullpup sweat all over his nose. “Mmmph yeah that’s it, such a good pup. Big stepdad muscle bull. Who would have thought you’d ever be THIS big nine months ago, huh?” Austin said, feeling high on the distilled testosterone stench of Jon’s wet, furry pits. “Arrrrawarruff!” Jon rumbled as he brought his arms down, trapping his Sir in his deep, furry pit. “Am I a big bull pup now, Sir?” Jon asked, his voice muffled in the neoprene and leather mask. “Yes, bull, but not big enough… never big enough!” Austin said, his own voice muffled by Jon’s furry pit, his hands wandering over to Jon’s immense chest, his fingers running through the dense fur and long beard trailing against Jon’s pecs. He grabbed the thick, sturdy leather of the harness straps and pulled hard, but Jon didn’t budge. He was so heavy, too sturdy, too strong. “Gotta grow bigger for my master,” Jon whispered, his eyes closed, every touch from Austin sending fireworks of pleasure up his spine. His cock throbbed and pushed up and out further from his jock strap, belching up more pre. He squeezed Austin into a tighter headlock and growled until Austin tapped his big arm, signaling him to let go and come up for air. “Need to mark my territory, bull. You’re mine now. Isn’t that right?” Austin said, huffing Jon’s stink against his upper lip, his hands rubbing more frantically against Jon’s giant body, exploring the wide v-shaped lats and trailing down to his round, hard, furry gut. Jon sighed contentedly when he heard those words. “Arrroooof, mmmrrrooof!” Jon breathed, then brought his arms around Austin and pressed the smaller man against his big body. Austin tugged down on the harness again, clinking the padlock against the central ring of the harness. “Kiss me, pup, now, hard!” Austin said, just as desperate to make Jon feel good as Jon was to make his master feel good. Jon leaned down and nuzzled his Sir, their tongues wrestling as they kissed hard and sloppy, their beards brushing against each other roughly. “Taste my hole,” Austin demanded, and Jon obeyed. Jon grunted as he grabbed on to Austin’s dress pants and tore them apart, ripping and shredding and tearing until they fell to the ground, revealing Austin’s hard 8” cock and bubble butt. Austin had grown thicker and more muscular over the last few months training and eating with Jon, and he looked sexier than ever. Austin bent over and turned around, revealing his tight, furry hole. It was sweaty and musky, which now started to mix with the light rain that began to fall, coating them both. “MMMPH, grrrff!” Jon growled as he dove into Austin’s meaty ass, his pup mask snout pushing his cheeks apart to get to Austin’s tight hole. Jon’s thick, powerful tongue reached up and dragged slowly against Austin’s hole, causing the smaller man to shiver and groan. Jon pushed his tongue in harder, insistent, pressing past any resistance and penetrating his Sir. Even his tongue had grown bigger and stronger over the last few months! Slurping and sighing happily, sniffing master’s deep, sweaty musk, Jon ate Austin’s furry hole relentlessly, pushing him hard so Austin had to brace himself against the porch. Jon buried his nose deep in his master’s crack and then shook his face back and forth, his metal chain clinking around like when a wet dog shakes himself to get dry, sending another wave of stimulation surging through his Sir’s tight, muscular body. “Mmmmph, grrrfff, mmmmlllaaahhh!” Jon growled as he pushed his tongue in deeper, deeper, fucking his Sir’s hole with his huge tongue, slurping up every morsel of football jock hole he could get. “Lift me up, pup!” Austin groaned. Jon backed up, removing his tongue from Austin’s ass, and stood back up to his full height. He reached down and Jon’s huge, calloused hands wrapped around Austin and lifted him up effortlessly. Austin straddled Jon’s thick bull neck and massive traps with his legs, his ass resting on Jon’s chest-like pecs, his cock right in front of Jon’s pup snout. Austin looked down at Jon’s intense, focused, pleading eyes through the pup hood, his own cock throbbing and leaking, rain dripping down onto both of them. “Get your tongue back in there, pup, I need more,” Austin commanded, and Jon lifted and pressed Austin’s 250lbs like it was nothing. He raised Austin up, leaned his head back, and slurped out with his tongue, lapping up against the tight, sweaty, furry hole of his Sir. “Ssssslluurrrp, mrraraahahhhh, mrroooof!” Jon grunted and breathed as he slurped and licked. He lowered Austin down until Austin’s weight was fully pressed down on his mouth and tongue, allowing him to push in even deeper and rub his master’s jock stink all over his mouth and pup mask. “Oh god, yes pup, eat my hole, making your Sir feel SO good,” Austin moaned. He reached down and steadied himself on the smooth, dark neoprene of Jon’s pup hood, which was becoming more slippery as the rain increased in intensity. After several minutes of this, Austin had Jon put him back down on the deck. “Back on all fours, pup. Head up, good,” Austin ordered, Jon dutifully moving however his master ordered. “Turn around, pup, let me see that ass,” Austin said, breathing heavily as he still felt the stretched-out presence of Jon’s tongue in his butt. “WRROOOOF!” Jon rumbled as he rotated around, his knees and fists pressing into the worn-down grass and dirt, which was starting to get muddy as the rain came down. He planted himself facing away from Austin, head held up high, his wide, furry, muscular glutes bowing out round to the sides and towards Austin. His enormous hamstrings framed his round, heavy balls, which were barely contained in his oversized jock strap. His silicone butt plug tail was enormous, three feet long and as thick around as Austin’s upper arm at its widest point; it bobbed back and forth, up and down as Jon parked his ass in front of Austin. “Time to remove your tail, pup,” Austin said teasingly. Jon groaned as he felt Austin’s rough hands rake across the edges of the tight, filling plug. Austin pulled with all his might, and the massive plug slowly inched out, dragging across the inside of Jon’s hole, slick and wet. Jon bellowed as the huge plug came out, the heavy black tail thumping onto the deck next to Austin; the custom-made item was deceptively heavy. Left behind was Jon’s twitching, furry, pink, stretched-out pup hole, framed by Jon’s jock strap. “Get that ass up in the air more,” Austin said, stepping closer to his bullpup and pressing his face against Jon’s deep, furry crack. Austin licked and huffed his pup’s musky hole, causing it to twitch and pulse more. “AarrOOOOF!!” Jon rumbled, squirming and groaning as his Sir worked his hole. “MmMMMRPH, aaarrUUUFF, FUUUCK,” he groaned as he pressed his ass back harder towards the deck, his boots and knees digging into the muddy ground, his fists clutching a handful of grass and tearing it up as pleasure electrified his body. Austin rubbed his beard over Jon’s sensitive hole, licked up and down, in and out, all around, making his bullpup squirm and whine and bark. He came up for air with a gasp, the heady stink of his pup’s sweaty musk covering every inch of his face, breathing it in like perfume. “Drop that ass, pup, your Sir needs to plant his seed now,” Austin growled. Jon obeyed, dropping lower so his Sir could get at the right angle. He whimpered and twitched and panted in anticipation. He could feel his Sir’s hard, wet cock pressing against the outside of his hole. He could feel his Sir’s muscular torso leaning against his round, hairy ass, could feel his knees pressing against his hard hamstrings, could feel his arms reaching up to just barely grab on to his heavy leather harness and pull down and back. “You want your Sir’s cock?” Austin growled as he ground against Jon’s furry, sweaty crack, the rain mixing with the pre and sweat to make it slick. “Mmmrrrphhh, mmmm!” Jon whined desperately, his ass wiggling back and forth. “You think you deserve your Sir’s load?” Austin teased, pressing against Jon’s hole, right on the doorstep. “Uuurrrfff, arf, mmmh!” Jon begged, pressing back against the cock head that pressed against his pucker, small to his perception but powerful in what it meant to the two of them. “Such a good pup, you DO deserve your Sir’s cock!” Austin roared as he punched his way inside of Jon. “AAARRRUUUUUUFF!!” Jon bellowed as Austin thrust inside of him. His powerful glutes wrapped around Austin’s cock and squeezed tightly. “My big GROWING bull, all mine!” Austin growled as he started pounding into his bullpup with reckless abandon. Jon’s hole gripped his Sir’s cock, fitting together perfectly. Jon grunted and growled as his master filled him up; there was nothing more satisfying than feeling Austin inside of him, being this close, enjoying the fruits of Jon’s labor. Serving his master and making him happy was as gratifying as sex, as necessary as breathing to Jon now. Austin’s lust-filled grunts and moans sent shivers of happiness down Jon’s muscular spine, and he pushed back in time to Austin’s thrusts to increase their mutual pleasure. Jon planted his fists harder into the wet grass, sinking them into the ground to gain more traction as Austin pounded harder and harder. He raised his head proudly, arching his big back and feeling his jock-bound cock scraping against the ground, the head of it pressing hard against the ground and scraping up grass. “Feel me breeding you hard, bull?” Austin grunted through gritted teeth. He panted and pushed his cock deeper, more aggressively, roughly. He knew his big stepdad could take any kind of force he put into it. “GRRRUUUFFFF, MMMMPH!” Jon growled. His harness and chain jingled steadily as Austin’s pounding cock sent shivers through his big body. Rain and sweat dripped off of him, slicking up the dense fur covering his back and shoulders. “Sir needs to mark his territory, bull,” Austin groaned. Jon growled deeply, his voice resonating in Austin’s chest. “Sir needs to keep his pup’s hole full of his seed so you know you’re mine,” Austin breathed, his cock throbbing and swelling, his balls growing tighter and more sensitive. Jon bellowed and groaned unintelligibly in response, pushing back even harder on Austin, almost knocking him over, but Austin was able to brace himself. Austin reached up and gripped Jon’s harness harder. He thrust in deeper than ever, deeper than Jon had ever felt, and something in him broke; happiness, completion, satisfaction, and euphoria washed over him. His hole clamped down tighter around his master’s cock. “Yeah, take it!” Austin breathed, slowing his rhythm as he took in the full, monumental scope of the wide, muscular back and huge, powerful ass gripping his cock. “Take my fucking load, bull, unnnngggg!” Austin groaned as he felt Jon’s hole squeeze his cock and milk the cum out of him like a suction hose. Jon threw his head back and howled into the sky, rain pattering off his pup mask, his own cock leaking into the wet ground and digging up more dirt, his huge ass threatening to knock Austin over.

Hallo zusammen! Die Idee kam mir heute morgen im Bett und musste niedergeschrieben werden. Eine relativ kurze Story, aber ich hoffe, sie gefällt. Zusammenfassung: Wenn du eine App installierst und die Realität damit änderst, solltest du vielleicht die Einstellungen so wählen, dass du weißt, was du getan hast... ___ Eingabe bestätigen? Ja/Nein Änderungen global übernehmen? Ja/Nein Settings als Voreinstellung speichern? Ja/Nein Speicher und fortfahren? Ja/Nein ___ Als Ben aufwachte, fühlte er sich nicht so, als ob er wirklich geschlafen hätte. Er wirkte matt und für einen moment auch desorientiert, unsicher wo er war und wer er überhaupt war. Vielleicht lag es an diesem seltsamen Traum… Ein Alptraum. Er war in diesem Traum zwar auch 18, aber fett mit 130kg und gigantischer Wampe. Einem Micro-Penis von gerade mal 3 cm. Keinen Freunden und nur Essen um sich herum. Alleine und unglücklich. Ein Seufzer kam Ben über die Lippen und ein Blick auf den Wecker verriet, dass es 6:45 war. Tatsächlich eine Viertelstunde zu früh wach geworden wegen dieses blöden Traums. Er schloss noch einmal kurz die Augen, stand dann aber auf und ging erstmal ins Bad hinein. Wie jeden Morgen ging der erste Gang auf die Waage. Das moderne Teil, das sein Vater gekauft hatte, zeigte alles an und auf Grund der eingespeicherten Daten, waren auch Körperfett und Muskelmasse Messungen möglich. 93 kg bei 11% Körperfett verteilt auf 1,88m. Also wie immer. Kurz zögerte er und das Gefühl in diesem Traum war wieder da… Wie immer merkte er, dass sein bestes Stück die Zahlen liebte und sich langsam aufpumpte, womit er schnell unter die Dusche hüpfte. Nachdem die 18cm bearbeitete worden waren und der Körper gereinigt, ging es ans Anziehen. Er war auf einer Fitness-Schule für Jungs. Das Konzept gab es schon immer. Die Absolventen dieser Schule gingen direkt zu großen Model-Agenturen, Bodybuilder Weiterbildungen oder der Porno-Industrie. Sein Vater unterstützte ihn im seinen Vorhaben, einer der führenden Only-Fans-Accounts zu bekommen. Wie jede dieser Schulen trug er auch hier eine Schuluniform. Eine Trainings-Kompressionshose und das passende Oberteil dazu mit dem Logo der Schule. Er ärgerte sich ein wenig darüber, da er gerne seinen Waschbrettbauch zeigte. Aber man konnte nicht alles haben. Auf dem Weg nach unten begrüßte ihn sein Dad: „Morgen Champ!“, kommentierte der 44-jährige Bär. Sein Vater war selbst früher mal Bodybuilder gewesen und ließ sein Wissen über Ernährung jetzt seinem Sohn zu gute kommen. Ein eiweißreiches Frühstück wartete auf den Schüler. „Alles ok. Du wirkst irgendwie… neben der Spur.“, kommentierte Viktor, sein Vater. „Ich… alles gut. Hatte einen doofen Traum… Ich war fett…“ Was zu einem herzhaften Lachen seines Erzeugers führte. „Fett… Das ist doch seit 30 Jahre kein Thema mehr.“ Und tatsächlich dämmerte es Ben jetzt. Fast so, als ob die Information für ihn komplett neu war - aber bekannt. Ein seltsames Gefühl. Es gab keine dicken Leute mehr. Die beiden unterhielten sich noch über die kommenden Routinen, die sie am Nachmittag ausprobieren wollten und was sonst noch in der Schule anstatt. Bald war „Posing-Prüfung“ und Ben natürlich ein wenig aufgeregt. Eine Stunde später stieg Ben dann an seiner Schule aus. „Fitness-Schule für junge Männer im Bezirk Nord.“ Der alltägliche Anblick der vielen, trainierten Jungs in enger Sportkleidung war absolut nichts besonderes und auch die Tatsache, dass sich ein paar Schüler mit heftigen Zungenküssen begrüßten. So kam auch Marc auf Ben zu und küsste ihn leidenschaftlich. Sein bester Freund seit der Grundschule wollte immer mehr in Richtung Bodybuilder gehen und das zeigte sich auch. Mit 18 Jahre bereits 110kg auf die Waage zu bringen, war beachtlich und die enge Spandex-Kleidung überließ nichts der Fantasie. Sie waren in der Tat nicht zusammen, aber irgendwann hatte es sich in der Welt durchgesetzt, dass man beste Freunde so begrüßte. Auf einmal war das wieder dieses Gefühl… Das Gefühl von einem Traum. Marc kommentierte auch den etwas müden Eindruck seines Freundes, dann läutete aber schon die Glocke zum Schulbeginn. Der Tag bestand aus Ökotrophologie im sportlichen Sektor, Posing-Analyse, Social-Media-Training und einem 4 Stunden Sportprogramm. Verschwitzt kam Ben nach Hause, sein Vater schon wieder am Kochen. „Hey Champ! Wie war Schule?“, wollte er direkt wissen und beim Essen erzählte Ben von den neusten Trends und was in der Schule los war. Hauptsächlich, wer mit wem. „Wollen wir dann direkt das neue Training testen?“, wollte Viktor wissen, doch Ben schüttelte den Kopf. „Ich muss noch 4 Selfies machen, bearbeiten und auf YouTube drei Videos aufholen. Sorry, aber Hausaufgaben gehen vor.“, womit er sich auf sein Zimmer verabschiedete. Dort angekommen wunderte sich das Fitness-Model, dass sein Tablet eine ihm unbekannte App offen hatte. Kein Name, kein Brand und ein etwas seltsames Interface waren darauf zu sehen. Individual Gewicht Globaler Durchschnitt Penis Größe Globaler Durchschnitt … Und sehr viel mehr seltsame Reiter - doch überall waren Werte eingetragen und tatsächlich konnte er oben seinen Namen sehen. Ben Neumann. Die sonst so glatte Stirn legte sich in Falten und er merkte, wie sein Schwanz leicht hart wurde. Vielleicht eine App wie für Sims oder eine andere Simulation. Er klickte sich also ein bisschen durch und spielte damit rum. ___ Eingabe bestätigen? Ja/Nein Änderungen global übernehmen? Ja/Nein Settings als Voreinstellung speichern? Ja/Nein Speicher und fortfahren? Ja/Nein ___ Als Ben aufwachte, fühlte er sich nicht so, als ob er wirklich geschlafen hätte. Er wirkte matt und für einen moment auch desorientiert, unsicher wo er war und wer er überhaupt war. Vielleicht lag es an diesem seltsamen Traum… Ein Alptraum. Er war in diesem Traum zwar auch 18, aber ein richtiger Lauch mit 93kg . Einem Mini-Penis von gerade mal 18cm. Nichts, worauf man irgendwie stolz sein konnte. Nicht in dieser Welt. Ein Seufzer kam Ben über die Lippen und ein Blick auf den Wecker verriet, dass es 6:45 war. Tatsächlich eine Viertelstunde zu früh wach geworden wegen dieses blöden Traums. Er schloss noch einmal kurz die Augen, wuchtete sich dann erstmal nach oben. Wie immer rollte er sich auf die Seite und dann die Beine aus dem Bett. Kurz gab er seinem Kreislauf die Möglichkeit, sich an die veränderte Lage anzupassen. Dann stand er auf und stampfte ins Bad. Dort angekommen ging sein erster Gang, wie jeden Morgen, zur Waage. Das moderne Teil, das sein Vater gekauft hatte, zeigte alles an und auf Grund der eingespeicherten Daten, waren auch Körperfett und Muskelmasse Messungen möglich. 145 kg bei 9% Körperfett verteilt auf 1,95m. Also wie immer. Kurz zögerte er und das Gefühl in diesem Traum war wieder da. Aber ein Blick in den Spiegel half. Er war zwar nicht der Größte Teen-Bodybuilder auf der Welt, aber zufrieden mit seinem Blick. All das Training hatte sein Gesicht markanter gemacht und die 18 Jahre kaufte man ihm nicht ab. Hohe Wangenknochen und ein breites Kinn. Blaue Augen, geziert von buschigen Augenbrauen. Ein breiter Hals, der in einen breiten Nacken und noch breitere Schultern mündete. Der Bizeps, egal ob angespannt oder nicht, wurde immer von Adern durchzogen. Sein Taille war gerade mal 32cm breit und verziert von 8 harten Muskeln. Seine Beine, breit wie Baumstümpfe berührten sich schon seit langer Zeit und sorgten dafür, dass seine Zitronen-großen Hoden nach vorne gedrückt wurden und seine 24, schlaffen Zentimeter darüber lagen. Wobei sich sein Schwanz beim Anblick seines Körpers langsam für die Morgen-Routine bereit machte. Ben drehte sich seitwärts und betrat die Dusche. Halbwegs abgetrocknet - denn er erreichte seit Neustem nicht mehr alle Stellen - ging es ans Anziehen. Er war auf einer Bodybuilder-Schule für Jungs. Das Konzept gab es schon immer. Die Absolventen wurden zu gigantischen Männern mit unfassbarer Muskelmasse. Sein Vater unterstützte ihn im seinen Vorhaben, einer der nächsten Mr. Univers zu werden. Wie jede dieser Elite-Schulen trug er auch hier eine Schuluniform und ärgerte sich maßlos darüber. Das Crop Top verdeckte seine Brustmuskeln und nur sein 8-pack war sichtbar. Er liebte aber seine Pecs, konnte gegen die Schulordnung aber nichts tun. Das andere Problem war die Hose. Vielleicht passte die mal kleinen Männern vor 50 Jahren. Aber die Schwänze der Jugend waren einfach fetter, länger und größer. Nur mit Mühe stopfte er alles in diese Mini-Shorts. Ein kurzer Blick in den Spiegel beurteilte den Sitz seiner Hose und kurz hatte er wieder das Gefühl des seltsamen Traums… „Morgen Monster.“, begrüßte ihn sein Vater Viktor. Er war selbst Absolvent der Schule und einer der Jahrgangs-Schwersten. 188kg brachte er auch heute noch auf die Waage und nur mit Poser bekleidet, machte er ein Essen für 10 normale Leute. Oder einen, wachsenden, angehenden Star am Bodybuilder Himmel. Ein eiweißreiches Frühstück wartete auf den Schüler. „Alles ok. Du wirkst irgendwie… neben der Spur.“, kommentierte Viktor. „Ich… alles gut. Hatte einen doofen Traum… Ich war… gerade mal 93kg schwer…“ Was zu einem herzhaften Lachen seines Erzeugers führte. „Ja, dann wurdest du aber eingeschult. Hast du Angst vor der Posing-Prüfung?“, woraufhin er als Antwort ein Kopfnicken bekam. Die beiden unterhielten sich noch beim Frühstück und sein Vater versuchte ihm die Nervosität zu nehmen. Eine Stunde später stieg Ben dann an seiner Schule aus. „Bodybuilder-Schule für junge Männer im Bezirk Nord.“ Der Vorhof der Schule sah aus wie bei einer Convention. Alle Männer in Crop-Tops, engen Hosen, der ein oder andere vom Morgen-Training aufgepumpt und ein paar der oberen Klassen wackelten auf Grund ihrer Masse schon jetzt in Richtung Gebäude, um rechtzeitig im Unterricht zu sein. Sein bester Freund, Marc, seit der Grundschule kam auf ihn zu und kniff ihm erst scherzhaft in den linken Nippel, bevor er ihm einen Zungenkuss gab. Marc kommentierte auch den etwas müden Eindruck seines Freundes, dann läutete aber schon die Glocke zum Schulbeginn. Der Tag bestand aus Ökotrophologie im Muskel-aufbau-Sektor, Posing-Analyse, Posing-Routine und einem 4 Stunden Lifting. Verschwitzt kam Ben nach Hause, sein Vater schon wieder am Kochen. „Hey Monster! Wie war Schule?“, wollte er direkt wissen und beim Essen erzählte Ben von den neusten Trends und was in der Schule los war. Hauptsächlich, wer mit wem. „Wollen wir dann direkt dein Nachmittagstraining beginnen?“, wollte Viktor wissen, doch Ben schüttelte den Kopf. „Ich habe heute beim Posing noch ein paar Defizite bei mir entdeckt. Ich muss das noch aufholen. Sorry, aber Hausaufgaben gehen vor.“, womit er sich auf sein Zimmer verabschiedete. Dort angekommen wunderte sich der Bodybuilder, dass sein Tablet eine ihm unbekannte App offen hatte. Kein Name, kein Brand und ein etwas seltsames Interface waren darauf zu sehen. Individual Gewicht Globaler Durchschnitt Penis Größe Globaler Durchschnitt … Und sehr viel mehr seltsame Reiter - doch überall waren Werte eingetragen und tatsächlich konnte er oben seinen Namen sehen. Ben Neumann. Die sonst so glatte Stirn legte sich in Falten und er merkte, wie sein Schwanz leicht hart wurde. Vielleicht eine App wie für Sims oder eine andere Simulation. Er klickte sich also ein bisschen durch und spielte damit rum. ___ Eingabe bestätigen? Ja/Nein Änderungen global übernehmen? Ja/Nein Settings als Voreinstellung speichern? Ja/Nein Speicher und fortfahren? Ja/Nein ___ Als Ben aufwachte, fühlte er sich nicht so, als ob er wirklich geschlafen hätte. Er wirkte matt und für einen moment auch desorientiert, unsicher wo er war und wer er überhaupt war. Vielleicht lag es an diesem seltsamen Traum… Ein Alptraum. Er war in diesem Traum zwar auch 18, aber nur 145kg schwer und sein Schwanz war nicht der Rede wert. Ein Seufzer kam Ben über die Lippen und er rief laut: „Bin wach…“, Er hatte keine Ahnung, wie spät es war, den Kopf zu drehen, konnte er schon lange nicht mehr. „Morgen Titan!“, begrüßte ihn sein Vater. „Morgen Kleiner.“, meinte Thomas, der Freund seines Vaters und „Pfleger“ von Ben. Die beiden Schwer-Gewichts-Bodybuilder mit zusammen knapp 420kg, keuchten schwer und wuchteten Viktors Sohn aus dem Bett heraus. „Na? Da sind nochmal ein paar Pfund dazugekommen.“, kommentierte Thomas und klopfte auf eine der stahlharten Brust. „Dann wollen wir doch mal schauen.“, schlug sein Vater vor und Ben wackelte in Richtung Bad. Die Schwerlast-Waage protestierte leicht, sagte dann aber alle Daten laut auf: „Ben Neumann - 18 Jahre - 210 m - Wiegevorgang - Bitte warten - Prüfe - Verarbeite - 492 kg - 7% Körperfett.“ Beide Väter applaudierten und Viktor meinte: „Bis zum Ende des Schuljahres schaffen wir die halbe Tonne doch noch! Aber jetzt los. Duschen und Abspritzen.“ So betraten alle drei Männer nackt das große Areal, was als Dusche genutzt wurde. 10 qm gekachelt mit diversen Duschdüsen. Anders konnte sie ihren Sohn nicht mehr sauber bekommen. Während sich der eine darum kümmerte, dass jede Körperstelle eingeseift und sauber gemacht wurde, versorgte der andere die pochende 42 cm Schwanz. Die Handball-großen Eier sorgten für genug Sperma, als das der Abfluss von Zeit zu Zeit dem nicht gerecht wurde. Das Abtrocknen des Kolosses dauerte ebenfalls nochmal lange und während dessen konnte sich Ben ein Bild seines monumentalen Körpers machen. Seine Wangenknochen und Kinn waren von unfassbarer Symmetrie und sehr kantig. 18 Jahre und eine Männlichkeit ausstrahlend. Sein Hals war fast doppelt so breit wie sein Kopf und verschwand zwischen seinen Trapezmuskeln. Seit knapp 50kg war es fast unmöglich, den Kopf zu drehen. Seine Schultern erreichten nun endlich eine Breite von 2,50m und nicht zuletzt wirkte er noch breiter, durch die abstehenden Arme. Sein Latissimus sorgte dafür, dass der Melonengroße Bizeps ruhig darauf abgelegt war. Fast lächerlich schmal dagegen wirkte seine 40cm Taille mit 10-pack. Darunter gespiegelt, rein von der Breite, waren seine Beine. So groß und breit, dass sein Laufen ein Wackeln war und selbst das „an einander vorbei rollen“ der Oberschenkel problematisch wurde. Fast keinen Platz schien sein gigantischer Schwanz samt Hoden zu haben, die nun von Thomas in seine Schuluniform gepresst wurden. Nachdem sein Paket verstaut war, legten Viktor und Thomas die Hosenträger-artigen Riemen über die Schultern. Das Gewicht von knapp 5kg konnte von dem Material nicht gehalten werden und benötigte zusätzliche Hilfe. Eine Spezialanfertigung für den Jahrgangsbesten in der Bodybuilder-School. Das kleine Logo auf dem Poser war durch die Menge an Männlichkeit komplett verzerrt und kaum erkennbar. „Dann hol du den Truck, ich werfe die Maschine an.“ Ben wackelte nun in Richtung Ausgang des ebenerdigen Hauses. Vor langer Zeit mussten sie umziehen, da das Monster keine Treppen mehr steigen konnte. Die fast halbe Tonne an Muskeln wuchtete sich dann die Rampe hoch und der GMC ging tief in die Federn. Viktor kam mit einem Schlauch und steckte ihm seinen Sohn in den Mund. „10.000 kcal auf dem Weg. Guten Hunger!“ Er wollte schon gehen, stoppte dann aber und klemmte das iPad in die Vorrichtung bei Ben. „Hab dein Pad mitgebracht für die Fahrt.“ Ben bedankte sich dann noch und versuchte mit seinen gigantischen Finger das Pad zu bedienen und stockte kurz. Dort war eine ihm unbekannte App offen. Kein Name, kein Brand und ein etwas seltsames Interface waren darauf zu sehen. Individual Gewicht Globaler Durchschnitt Penis Größe Globaler Durchschnitt … Und sehr viel mehr seltsame Reiter - doch überall waren Werte eingetragen und tatsächlich konnte er oben seinen Namen sehen. Ben Neumann. Die sonst so glatte Stirn legte sich in Falten und er merkte, wie sein Schwanz leicht hart wurde. Vielleicht eine App wie für Sims oder eine andere Simulation. Er klickte sich also ein bisschen durch und spielte damit rum.

I remember the new laws as if they were yesterday, even now it still feels like some strange dream. The time was 23:59, 31st December 2021; me and my friends gathered around the television to watch the fireworks and celebrations while we had some celebrations of our own. All of us were gorging on whatever readymade stuff we could find at the store, and most of us had got drunk as lords off the wine. I'd been trying to eat and drink away my troubles and loneliness as I shoveled food into my already huge gut and my head swirled from the alcohol. Eventually, someone yelled that it was almost midnight, and our attention was gripped by the screen. We did the countdown. "10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Happy New Year." Someone popped a cork, a couple of people got a drunken chorus of Auld Lang Syne going, and it was pretty much a regular old New Years party. This went on until the fireworks stopped, and the screen faded to black. I noticed the change first, as I was hardly in the mood for celebrating, and I pointed it out to the room when "BREAKING NEWS" came on the screen. The room almost instantly fell to silence, until a voice spoke. "This is a breaking news bulletin concerning a government announcement, please stand by for more information" I'd heard about this supposed government announcement, but thought nothing of it as nobody seemed to have any idea what it could be about. There were rumours it concerned those big buildings that the government were buying up, and working on away from the public eye. We didn't have to wait long to find out, as the screen changed to an empty podium with a flag behind it. After a moment, a man walked onto screen and behind the podium. Even in the suit he wore, you could tell from the way his body filled it out that he was no stranger to the gym; his shaved head and no-nonsense expression told us all that he was the sort of guy who didn't tolerate much bullshit. "Good evening, or rather good morning everyone, we hope that your new year's has been pleasant, and wish you luck in the coming year. This message concerns new policy that has come into effect, as of midnight, 1st January 2022." Everyone began to share nervous glances, racking our brains to think of what this could possibly be about. "A new report from the department of health has revealed damning information about the obesity crisis and a lack of physical education. Our health system has been strained to breaking point by these issues, and it is in the interests of the country to use drastic measures in order to prevent catastrophe. As of today, state-sanctioned gyms will be opening across the country, half for men and half for women. Information obtained from the department of health has allowed us to form a list of those at serious risk of health impacts from unhealthy lifestyles, 70% of the population is on this list. Those on this list will be sent more information about the gyms they have been assigned to, the exercises they are supposed to follow, the times in which they are supposed to attend, and other details. Thank you listening to this broadcast." And with that, the bulletin ended, and we were all left sitting in shock. We could barely form our suprise into words as we talking (or rather shouted) amongst ourselves about this decision. There were some who supported this decision, and others who were outraged at the news, but it was undeniable that most of us would be heading for a world of change. While the next few days offered reprieve as the information was handed out to every person, I soon found myself with a government booklet in my hand. It had two options, either cardio, weightlifting, or a combination of the two. While I was unfamiliar with a lot of the terminology of the weightlifting section, the cardio section made me tired just looking at it. I also received information concerning the gym I was supposed to attend, and the regulations on the gym clothes that were to be worn at this gym. And if I thought I could just use my burnt calories to eat more, the booklet detailed mandatory health inspections that would be happening to ensure that progress was being made. The next day, my programme began. I turned up at the gym at the allocated window of time. The building was huge, and had a sign above that read "Department of Health State Gym, No. 368, Male", men of different shapes and sizes, but none of this skinny, were walking in. There was a constant stream of guys coming in and out, with the ones coming in looking nervous, and ones coming out looking sweaty and exhausted. The entire place was overseen by guys who were clearly ex-army, who now worked for a different branch, with their maroon uniforms and either ripped or athletic physiques. I walked up to the next free desk, with one of the assistants behind it. "Hello sir, name please." "Julian Overton" "I see you here on the list, Mr Overton. Are you here for the cardio programme, the weightlifting programme, or the mixed programme." "Mixed please." I'd chosen mixed as I knew running and other cardio, but hoped the weightlifting could give me some time to breath between. "Very well, that is in the system now. Do you have the recommended clothes for your session today." "Yes." "Excellent, here is your programme" he handed me a table of the activities "and if you'd like to proceed into the changing room over there, put on your exercising clothes, and begin." I did as the man said, and went into the changing room, only to be met by quite a sight. The men who were changing with me were all of considerable size; giant guts, flabby arms, clearly very little physical exercise, and when I looked down at my own body, I saw the exact same thing. As I watched some of the older men with my physique struggle to change their clothes before even beginning to exercise, I realised the reasons behind this new law. As I made my way to the main area, I noticed a man walking in the same direction who had clearly not changed clothes, and was stopped by the guard who was watching people as they came in. "Stop!" I nearly fainted when I thought he was talking to me, but he was addressing the other man. "Those clothes are not appropriate for the gym, and are in violation of the rules." "Oh, I'm sorry. I promise I'll remember some tomorrow, I was just in a rush-" the guard cut him off. "Violations of the clothing rules will not make anyone exempt from their sessions. Please remove the offending items." The man, clearly surprised but with no other option, took off his clothes until he was just stood in his underwear. He was expecting to receive something else to wear, but the guard simply stood to allow him to pass, expecting him to begin his programme. I tried to put the exchange out of my mind as I got started for the first time, and trying not to stare at the other guys in their underwear who had clearly tried to fiendishly break the system. The cardio was brutal, and the weightlifting was hell, but when I left a feeling that I'd never felt before. That one workout hadn't changed much, but the feeling of physical accomplishment was making me feel inches taller and miles more confident. When the next day came, and I was expected at the gym again, I didn't come in with half of the nervousness that I had before. I blasted through my programme a second time, far easier than I had the first. This continued again and again and again, until strolling into the gym was just another part of the day. My eating habits also changed. The junk food felt like poison to me now, as I started to learn the horrors of what I'd been putting into my body. It was one thing when I was a fat tub, but now I had goals to work towards. Now the only things I could eat was vegetables, fruits, and whatever protein sources wouldn't pack on the pounds. As expected, my body began to rapidly change. My giant gut and man tits melted like ice in heat, and soon I was seeing the outlines of muscle poke through the flab. I was waking up with more energy, simple tasks like climbing stairs were now a breeze, and mentally I felt like someone had come in with a cloth and wiped my issues away. Pretty soon, I was itching to go back to the gym, and I was striking up conversations with the assistants there. Eventually, I got talking with an assistant named Eric. He was a beautiful, 6'4 ex-navy guy who had got into bodybuilding to fill the hole in his life left by the navy, and boy did it show. The first thing I noticed about him were his arms, which were mostly uncovered by the uniforms, revealing two colossal mountains of bicep standing high about a thick river of tricep that ran underneath. I also loved his forearms which he left hairy and were covered with striations. We really hit it off, his interests being just as nerdy as mine, and we quickly became friends. I noticed from day one how he was making a peak form in my gym shorts, and how much I loved seeing him running his fingers through his hair as his biceps raised, but I shelved those feelings in fear of jeopardising the friendship. As we both clearly were gym bros, I asked if Eric if he wanted to work out with me. He seemed enthused, but revealed he worked out at another gym that wasn't government sanctioned, and far more centred around weightlifting. I was nervous to go into unfamiliar territory, but as I'd done it before, I agreed agreed. We met up at Eric's gym, his face seeming to light up when he saw me arrive. We went into the changing area, and began talking. As I opened my gym bag, Eric whipped off his shirt, and I saw what was really underneath. His body looked like it was carved out of marble, his shoulders wide enough to carry two other men on them, his pecs like two metal trophies of his physical accomplishment, his back like a winding map of muscle. When he slid off his trousers, I marveled at his trunk legs with lines that marked out each meticulously cared for muscle. I watched as he slid on his gym shorts and shoes, but just as I expected him to pull out a gym shirt, he began loading his stuff into one of the lockers. When I pulled out a gym shirt of my own and put it over my head, he whispered. "Hey, if you want to wear a shirt, that's cool, but most people just choose to let it hang out. It really helps with getting in touch with your body." Against all other expectations, I decided to leave my shirt in the locker. As Eric had described, the gym was wall-to-wall weight lifting equipment, and the cardio machines I used at the other place were gone. I had no choice but to really get stuck into the weight, but I found myself enjoying it. Eric could clearly see the enjoyment on my face, and when we're walking towards the exit, he said "I can see you enjoyed it dude, and I'm glad. I think you'd look hot with some muscle on your bones." "Thanks. It's cool that you can say that about other guys." "Well, maybe it's weird for straight guys, but for guys like me usually don't have a problem." "Wait a minute, are you gay?" "Yeah dude, couldn't you tell." "Fuck no. Clearly us gay guys don't have the gaydars we think we do." "Hold on, you're gay too?" "Ha, if that doesn't just prove my point." Well, as much as we didn't want to jinxe it too early, we knew that this would be the beginning of something else in our relationship. I saw him in a new light, and even more irresistible than I did before. One day, as we were on the bench press station, Eric went for his PR. Just before he did, I learnt over and whispered in his ear. "If you do this, I'll make out with you in the gym restroom. Do you want it?" Eric didn't say a word, just grabbed the bar with his powerful arms, brought it to his chest, and thrust it into the air. In minutes we were rubbing our shirtless bodies against each other, locking lips as we felt each other's abs. Later that month, when I was on the squat station, about to attempt my PR, he leant over and whispered in my ear. "If you do this, I'll fuck your brains out in my bed. Do you want it?" I didn't say a word, just grabbed the bar, slowly dropped down, and back up again. An hour later, we had burst into his apartment, barely able to keep our hands off each other, before he had his dick deep inside me. It was so hot looking in the mirror and seeing two muscled masculine bodies engaged in this erotic act. Eric got me more and more obsessed with bodybuilding, until eventually I was starting to catch up to him, which only made our bedroom activities better. We went on dates where we ordered piles and piles of protein, we would drink our shakes while watching a film and cuddled, all the while he stayed my favourite gym spotter in the world. It was no time at all before we were just two muscle guys, madly in love. One day, my beautiful boy rushed home to tell me that there was a vacancy at the state gym for an assistant. I thought they would never pick me, and there'd just be someone else better, but as I looked at myself in the mirror. However, when I looked in the mirror, a fully formed bodybuilder looked back at me, so I applied. It was tough, there were other candidates of around size there, but the physical exam showed that I was the right man for the job. Soon, me and Eric were working together in our maroon uniforms, helping others achieve their potentials, and I couldn't be happier. Months, even years passed, and we moved in together. Then, when our three year anniversary came around, I took my man on a long hike up to the top of a hill. When we got to the end, our chests uncovered and gleaming with sweat, I got on one knee, buried my face in his six pack, and asked him to marry me. He of course said yes. The night after our wedding day, I got to make a protein-rich breakfast for me and my sleeping groom. When I picked up a letter that had just arrived, I chuckled to myself. It was a questionnaire asking for my opinion on the physical fitness laws. Well because of them I was in the best shape of my life, my mind was clean as a whistle, and most importantly, I'd met the man on my dreams. So I said I was very happy with these government policies, very happy indeed.