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  1. Here's another adventure of The Erotic Occultist. It's an idea that's been brewing for a while and I thought I would pound it out while I'm working on the last few parts of Food of the Gods. Hope you enjoy! PART ONE Tim waited in the virtual waiting room for the Zoom call to start. He admitted to himself that he was nervous and excited… well… nervous… excited… and slightly scared. He had been at the gym that morning when the email arrived, letting him know that his request for a meeting had been accepted. As soon as he read the text, his cock was hard. He tried to go back to lifting, but his mind was no longer on it. Sitting on the bench, he opened the email again and checked again the time the meeting would take place. He even tested the Zoom link to make sure that it was real. The link went directly to Zoom, but having used Zoom all through the pandemic, Tim knew that anyone could set up a Zoom call. It didn’t necessarily mean that it was really The Erotic Occultist reaching out to him. It had been eight months since he had written his first email asking the mysterious YouTuber if they could talk. Tim had come upon the muscle growth subliminal videos in his feed, and at first he didn’t even bother to listen to them since he wasn’t into that sort of stuff. Then, he hit a frustrating tableau in his quest for muscle. It seemed that no matter what he did, his stats and personal bests remained the same. When a month went by and everything was still exactly the same, he became desperate. He tried natural testosterone boosters, he hired a new trainer, he changed the way he worked out, but he still remained at 6’1 and 196 lbs of tight muscle. Then he tried steroids. Tim’s first cycle went well, and he found himself not only going up in weight and size but in his lifts as well. Strutting around the house and flexing for himself, he loved how his new muscle mass felt when he was both naked and clothed. When he hit 209 at the end of his cycle, he celebrated by going online and finding a twink to worship his muscles as he flexed. He was on top of the world. That is, until less than a week later, he watched as his gains slowly began to disappear. Each day he weighed himself, he was less and less. His mass crept away, and all of his clothes, including his underwear, felt baggy. He also began having trouble getting his cock up, which was something he never had an issue with before, and the hair on top of his head had begun to thin. A month after his first cycle, Tim was 6’1 and 196 lbs again. Tim looked in the mirror and hated what he saw. He wanted serious size. He wanted serious mass. He wanted people to look at him in awe when he walked into a room. He yearned for people to fear him when they saw him walking down the street at night. He craved to feel what it was like to find it nearly impossible to buy clothes off of the rack. He needed his body to match what he knew he really was inside. When he closed his eyes, Tim saw himself as a hulking mass of flexing muscle unlike any that had lived before. Bigger than any bodybuilder. Much bigger. Lying in bed, unable to sleep, Tim began scrolling first through CNN… then through Facebook… then through Instagram… and then finally in a fit of boredom, he landed on YouTube. At the top of his feed was the all too familiar muscle growth subliminal video he had been seeing for the past month and a half. Willing to give anything a try, he pressed play. Listening to the deep, masculine voice speak had Tim instantly hard, and as the video progressed, he found himself having one of the most intense orgasms he had ever had, and he hadn’t even touched himself!! Not even bothering to clean himself up, Tim fell asleep while the video continued. The next day was Tim’s best at the gym in weeks. He found himself lifting far beyond what he had been able to a few days prior, and when his hour and a half session at the gym was complete, he was shocked by how swollen his muscles looked in the mirror. Standing on the scale, he watched as the dial went up, eventually stopping at 199. 199! 199!! He was 199! He had gained 3 lbs of muscle after one workout! At first he wanted to take all of the credit for his gains, how he had pushed himself harder than he ever had before, but as soon as he saw the video again at the top of his YouTube feed, he knew that he had definitely gotten some supernatural help. Tim didn’t care if it was all in his mind, the placebo effect, or the Devil himself helping him. All he knew was that he had gained 3 lbs after one workout, and he was determined that there would be more where that came from. He listened to it again that night… and the night after… and the next. He listened to it at work. He listened to it on the tube, he let it play in the background no matter what he was doing. And soon, the gains began to pile on. Within 7 weeks, Tim stood even larger than he had after his first cycle. Much larger. He was now 245. He was still 6’1, but his stats were staggering! He had a 31 waist, 32” quads, a 55” chest, and 24” arms. He still continued listening to the video every chance that he could, but soon, Tim plateaued again, and no matter what he would do, he could never rise above 245. Even on another cycle, his weight and muscle stayed astonishingly the same. It was unbelievable. That night, he hunted down the email for The Erotic Occultist and wrote to him. He was desperate to be bigger. He craved it. It was a physical need that was eating him up inside. It was the third email that was eventually answered and had him sitting in the virtual waiting room at 11 am that day. He had called in sick to work, something he rarely did, but he didn’t care if he was missing an important meeting. If he could get everything that he wanted from The Erotic Occultist, he didn’t care about work. HIs body and muscles would be his work from now on!! He’d probably quit… maybe become a professional bodybuilder or make crazy money on Only Fans! What happened next was totally in The Erotic Occultist’s hands. Tim sat forward as the screen of his laptop changed. Suddenly he was no longer in the waiting room and on screen sat before him a fairly unassuming looking man. To Tim, The Erotic Occultist looked to be about 48 years old, was maybe 5’6 or 5’7, had an obvious slim frame beneath his buttoned up shirt, thinning blonde hair, and glasses which partially hid piercing blue eyes. Tim didn’t know what he was expecting, maybe some sexy, powerful figure, but he hoped the disappointment didn’t show on his face. This was The Erotic Occultist? This was the man with the deep, orgasm inducing voice behind the video? “62.” “I’m sorry?” “You guessed I was 48. I’m 62.” “62. Wow. I never would have guessed. You look great. Hope I look that great when I’m 62.” Slow down, Tim. Take a breath. “Moisturizer.” “What?” “Moisturizer. It’s the only way to keep your skin looking young without surgery. That and sun block. And some peptides. What kind of moisturizer do you use?” “Um… I don't know. I think… Kiehls.” “Kiehls? Not bad.” “Yeah.” “So… tell me… why summon me? Five times no less.” “You received my email?” “I did. Each one. But… why don't you tell me again.” “I love your video. I watch and listen to it all the time. I know I’m the size I am right now because of it.” “So you said in your emails. But… each time you wrote… I could sense that there was more. Some… deep desire hidden behind the words. Why don’t you share with me exactly what that desire is.” The room Tim sat in seemed to grow warmer. Grabbing the glass of water that sat next to his laptop, he took a sip. Just speak, Tim. Just tell him exactly what you want. An image exploded in his mind, but he quickly buried it down from the depths it had sprung up from. “I… I love the size I am. I really do. It suits me. Lots of guys would kill to be this size. It’s just…”. His cock was hard. Why was his cock hard? Why the fuck was his apartment so hot? “Say it.” The Erotic Occultist’s eyes seemed to gleam in the light. Tim looked deep within them and felt himself fall. “I want to be big.” “That’s it, Tim. Let it all flow.” Fuck he was hard!!! “Not just big. Huge. I don’t think I can fully tell you how huge I want to be.” “Tell me everything. I want to hear even the minutest detail.” His cock was leaking. The room was sweltering. His head was spinning. “I… Humongous. That’s the right word. Titanic. That’s an even better one, I… I fucking hate hitting plateaus. I want size… but no more fucking limits.” “Say it again. This time with some balls behind it.” “I want size but with absolutely no limits.” “Yes, Tim! Yes!! That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” “No… I… I’ve just never said it out loud before.” He rubbed his crotch with his hand, massaging the jeans covered shaft. “It feels good… doesn’t it… saying exactly what you want? Most people are afraid to do it… to claim what they feel is rightfully theirs. You can have anything you want if you just ask for it. The universe barely ever says no. Look at Taylor Swift.” “You helped Taylor Swift?” “Do you see the universe telling Taylor Swift no?” “I guess I don’t.” “No. You don’t. Tell me again what you want. I love hearing you say it. I love hearing the passion in your voice.” “Limitless growth. Limitless size. Limitless power.” “There it is. I knew there was more.” “I want to be immense. Ridiculously immense. Like… People would think I was crazy when they see me.” “And with that size comes… what?” “Comes… I don’t know… ummm…” “Do you remember Behemoth B?” “I don't think so. Should I?” “No. You shouldn’t. He was some of my greatest work, but my supervisors didn’t approve. They said I had put my needs above what he truly desired..” “You have supervisors?” “Everyone has supervisors. What they didn’t see was that I grew him to the size I knew he truly wanted. Deep down… he craved the size he got! Sure, it wasn’t the size he asked for… but I know… if he hadn’t been afraid to just admit it… So, my supervisors decided to jettison him.” “They killed him?” “No. He’s still around. He’ll be around forever… just… in a different place and time. I visit him every once in a while. Damn, he’s happy. You would love Ben. You two have a lot in common.” “Oh yeah?” “Your quest for size… you both share that need. Anyway. You can see why I need for you to spell it all out for me. Can’t make upper management mad. Need to dot all of the i’s and cross all of the t’s.…” “I bet.” “So… what does you size come with?” “I guess it comes with…” Tim stared deep into The Erotic Occultist's eyes once again, and he swore that he saw them start to dance… spin… Taking his hand, he slowly began to rub his right pec… toy with the nipple. “Respect. It… it comes with… respect. And awe.” “What else? Say it!” Tim’s cock jumped as he pinched his nipple tight. “It comes with fear. Lots of fear. Mostly fear. I want the world to fear me and my size.” Tim couldn’t stop himself. He was surprised by what he was admitting, but it felt so incredible to say it out loud. Of course he had thought these things. Who hadn’t? But, he never would have admitted them to someone he didn’t know. But, The Erotic Occultist wanted to help him. Didn’t he?” “Fear. Yes. What a beautiful word. So much energy comes from people’s fear. It’s like… currency to someone like me.” Tim’s skin was so hot now… nearly burning. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw it on the floor. He sat there, in front of his computer, panting and sweating and hornier than he ever remembered being. “Beautiful. Just beautiful. That’s an epic chest you have there, Tim… but I see why you contacted me. Why limit yourself. Why not grow to what you were truly meant to be.” “Yeah. Thanks. Exactly. No more plateaus. Just… growth. Limitless growth.” “I imagine you want a huge cock and balls too? Right?” Tim laughed. “Well… if you’re offering….” “Of course. Everyone always wants a huge cock. Hyper masculine?” “Oh yeah.” Tim unbuttoned his jeans and shoved his hand into his briefs. “I knew you were one of those! Super hyper masculine… massive cock and balls… and the immense size that the world will… What was that word? Ah yes… My favorite word. Fear.” “Fear. Yeah. Fear. The world… it will fear the sight of me!! I’m just… too huge!” Tim needed to cum. He desperately needed to cum. “How much is it worth?” “How much?” “Yeah. How much are you going to give me to make it happen?” Tim hadn’t thought about payment. “I… I don’t know. My… soul?” The Erotic Occultist let out a long and deep laugh. “Too cliché.” “What does something like what I want go for?” “It always varies. How much do you have right now in your checking account?” “Exactly? I don’t know.” “Check. You have your phone there. Stop playing with yourself for a minute and check.” Tim picked up his phone and clicked on the bank’s icon. Soon, after the system analysed his face, he was in his account. “I have… 328,363 dollars.” “That sounds good. I’ll take that.” “All of it?” “All of it. But… to be fair… the money wont be removed from your account until after what you’ve requested is fulfilled. How does that sound?” 328,363 was all he had in his checking account… but he did have a savings account with much more in it. If he got what he wanted… it would definitely be worth every penny. “Sure. That’s fair.” “So… I can have 328,363 after your request is fulfilled?” “Yeah. Let’s do it.” “Amazing. Now… tell me again… what is it you want? Tell me it all.” The room grew quiet again. The Erotic Occultist looked deep into Tim’s eyes, and the words flowed out of him like water. “I want to be… I want to be immense. Gargantuan. I want my muscles to be so massive that they should each have their own zip codes!” “Yes!” Tim dropped his phone and grabbed his cock once again. “Every muscle on my body… they’re so beyond swollen that if I was studied… they’d find muscle growing on top of muscle growing on top of muscle! I’m a genetic freak!” Tim pumped his cock faster. “More!.” “Like my size… my strength is beyond words and comprehension. I mean… I bet I could lift cars with my pinkie… and even would be like lifting a piece of dust. I could… oh fuck… I could move mountains if I wanted to.” Pre was free flowing, coating his cock and running onto the floor. “More!!!.” “My cock… It’s just as insanely big and thick as I am. I mean… guys… they run from it, it's so huge. And my balls… I’m so virile I could impregnate the world with one orgasm.” “I need more!!!!” The Erotic Occultists eyes seemed to fill the screen and burrowed into Tim’s soul. “I’m so titanic that… honestly… no one should be that big… yet I am. I’m actually bigger! I’m a menace to society. I'm so huge! My strength… oh fuck… it destroys everything I touch! Nothing’s safe when I’m around. People fear even the thought of me!! I walk and the ground beneath me shakes. I walk… and people run! And the worst thing for all of them? I just… keep… growing!!!” “Say it, Tim!! Now!!” “No limits!!! I want to live my life with no limits!! I want to be a fucking monster!! I want to be so huge that I’m all there is!” “YES!!!” Tim's cock erupted, sending ropes of cum shooting onto the desk, the laptop, and onto the floor. Just when he thought he had released all of his load, more and more poured out until his balls began to ache. Tim felt like the orgasm went on and on forever, draining him of every ounce of cum he possessed, but still more flowed. He wanted to scream. He wanted to beg his cock to stop cumming, but he couldn’t find the words. Then, just when he couldn't take anymore, the orgasm faded, and Tim collapsed into his chair, exhausted. “It’s done, Tim. You’re all set to receive exactly what you asked for.” “It… Really?” Tim looked down at what seemed like a gallon of cum coating everything around him. “Oh yeah, Tim. And your down payment has already been made.” “It has?” “It has. But, don’t worry your pretty head about that. “When will my muscles start to grow?” “That, my friend, is all part of the fun. But don’t worry. Within the week… you won’t be living the boring life you live now. You’ll be something… extraordinary.” “When it happens… then I’ll pay you?” “Yep. When it happens, the money will be transferred to me.” “I’ll need your account information.” “No need. I’ll get it.” “Oh. Okay.” “One word of advice. Do everything that you can that you think you’re going to miss when you’re… gargantuan. Don’t worry. You’re going to love everything you receive… it just… as time passes… you’ll find that some of the simplest things are beyond your grasp.” “Oh. Okay. Right. I see what… FUCK!!” Tim’s chest felt like it was on fire. His pecs had never felt so sensitive. He looked down, and watched as both began to slowly flex, pump up, and then inflate. Soon… hit fat pecs were thickening… inflating… expanding. The weight of his pecs was extraordinary. Like flesh covered balloons… they just kept growing and growing. Soon, both muscular mounds slammed together and created an extremely tight crevice. “Oh my god!! This is incredible!” Tim’s nipples were soon forced to point down as his chest became more than super sized! When they did, the growth stopped. “Holy fuck!!” Tim’s eyes were wide as he looked down at the most massive and incredible set of pecs he had ever seen. Flexing them, the heavy masses jumped at his command. “You have a 73” chest now. How does that feel?” “Incredible.” “Don’t lie!” Tim grunted again as the wave of growth passed through his chest once again and he watched the mounds start to thicken again. He leaned back in his chair as his pecs continued to gain more and more incredible size. Looking down, all Tim could see was pecs! His chest was all pecs!! When he grabbed them with both hands, he groaned again. “Feels… so… good!!” Vince twisted his nipples and nearly came again. How was he ever going to find a shirt to cover these things?! Did he ever want to cover them?” Wait till the guys in the gym saw him!! “Enough!!!” The Erotic Occultist fell forward against the table he was sitting behind. Automatically, Tim’s chest stopped growing. “That's 83 inches now, Tim How does that feel?” “I… I have no words!!” “Just a taste Tim. Just a taste. You’re never going to see me again, Tim… but I’ll be watching you. Have fun. Make me proud.” The Zoom call ended. The room spun. Tim felt nauseous. He gagged several times and was afraid he was going to vomit. Then, just as quickly as it started, the wave of nausea faded. Looking over his pecs… Fuck! Looking over his pecs!! Tim saw that his computer was dark and looked like it wasn’t even on. Standing up, Tim saw that his jeans were still buttoned, containing his painfully hard cock. The mess he had made when he came, was gone. There was no sight that he had even orgasmed at all. He picked up his phone from the floor and looked at it. It was 11 am. No time had passed. He would have thought the conversation had all been a dream, but when he looked down… all he could see was the biggest set of pecs in the world. Tim shuddered as he massaged his pecs. He had made a deal with… he didn’t know what. The idea of that slightly scared him, but it also turned him on. He tried replaying the conversation in his head, but it all seemed hazy. He knew he had asked for size, that much he knew. And if his pecs were any example of what was to come… if what his body was going to be like when it grew to match his gargantuan pecs… Tim couldn’t wait!!
  2. I am reposting another one of the stories LORUS wrote many years ago. In fact, this may be the first muscle-growth story he ever wrote if my memory can be trusted. It was deleted from the old forum long ago, but I had it saved on my hard drive and LORUS gave me permission to post it. It's fairly long, with ten chapters total. I will post a couple of chapters on this same thread every few days. Enjoy! Growth Beyond Reason by LORUS Part 1 Mark Stone hated two things in life more than any other. He hated working at his uncle’s convenience store because he felt that if his life didn’t change for the better, and soon, he’d be selling winos cheap liquor in paper bags until he was old and grey. He needed to start planning big, thinking big. He’d dropped out of college after his first year because he wasn’t motivated enough to exceed the standards expected of him. Motivation was a big problem for him. The sheer lack of it was to blame for the second thing he hated in life more than any other: his skinny, unattractive body. Okay, so maybe he was being hard on himself. He was quite cute. He had mousy brown hair that he wore just long enough so that he could re-work it with styling gum into all manner of configurations. He had attractive brown eyes, not too big, not too small - just right. His face was pretty to look at but recently he’d had flu and was just getting over it. His cheeks were a little sunken and he’d lost weight during his two-week illness. Normally he weighed in at 135, standing just five feet ten inches in height. He was pretty scrawny, but at least not pathetically so. This morning, as he got ready for work, he used the scales in the bathroom to check his weight once again. It wasn’t something he normally did; it was his mother’s scale. His mother, a devout Oprah-ite, was always trying out the latest fad diet, be it in book or in pill form. Mark never took after his mother’s side of the family, the side where weight could be a problem, but in fat terms. His father’s genetics likened him to the scrawny side of the gene-pool. This morning the readout on the scale said 133 lbs. Mark chewed his lip from a mixture of despair and nervousness. “I wish I were big,” he lamented as he finished dressing so that his mother could start cleaning the bathroom. Breakfast consisted of a pop-tart and a swig of milk from the carton. Then he was on his way, biking the three blocks downtown to Al’s Convenience Store. Wow, Mark thought, my uncle must have been up all night trying to crap on the john thinking of that one. It was a warm summer’s morning. Mark loved it when it was sunny, with so many audacious jock types going around shirtless, with their cobblestone stomachs and beautifully swollen chest muscles. So much eye candy - so much to look at but never to touch. Mark had never had a boyfriend. He put it down to being shy and never feeling confident enough about his body. He’d come close to asking a boy out once at high school. His name was Trey, and he was the school’s star quarterback and Mister Popularity, despite that he was completely open about his gay sexuality, bold and confident about everything in his life. Mark was smitten with him. And although he hadn’t seen Trey Waters in almost four years (he heard that he landed a football scholarship to a prestigious college up North), he often fantasized about him and wondered how he might look today. Obviously, football had not been his game in the end; otherwise, he might have become a big noise in sports circles. Trey Waters’ beautiful face and body had yet to adorn the cover of Men’s Fitness. But since Mark worked in a convenience store that stocked fitness and bodybuilding magazines, he was never short of good jizz-material when his uncle wasn’t keeping an eye on him. Something was different this morning. He chained his bike in its usual place and stood outside the store, about to open. Something was going on across the street. Lots of people were standing around and shaking their heads in disbelief. A building had apparently appeared overnight. It was so strange. The day before, the lot directly across from the convenience store had been empty, nothing more than idle asphalt surrounded by wooden fencing. It had once been a movie theatre but had been demolished some time ago. His curiosity piqued, Mark walked over to a man who stood, like many others, talking speculatively about the Shapeshifters Gym that now filled every inch of that once vacant lot. “How did that get here?” Mark’s question was obvious. The man responded without looking at him. “Norm Winterborn said it came in sections, on four massive trucks. And they just latched it together in a trice. Just like that,” the man snapped his fingers for emphasis. Wow, a gym right across from the store, Mark thought excitedly. There was only one gym in town already, but it was nothing like this. For one, it was across town and two, it catered mostly for overweight people trying to get into shape. His mother was a member. This Shapeshifters, as the sign displayed, was a hardcore bodybuilding Mecca. Mark knew that for there were bodybuilders already on-site, obviously from the construction team that ‘lashed’ the gym together in just a few hours, and during the night at that. One other man commented on the size of the men, suggesting that they might have put the pieces together with their bare hands. Mark had yet to get a decent look at the four Adonises, for he was not close enough, and besides he had to get the store open, or Al would tan his hide. He had the shop set up and ready for business within minutes. He had to go through the papers and sort them out along with the magazines. The new Men’s Fitness was in this morning. He took time to flick through it, picking out the pictures he would masturbate to later, in the staffroom in the back, where he ate his lunch usually. As usual, no “Trey Waters: football stud” adorned the front page. Trey’s life had obviously gone in a different direction after he left high school. Maybe he’d followed in his father’s footsteps and become a lawyer, a career in sports and fitness now just a memory to him. Oh well, I will always have my fantasies, Mark thought to himself as he took a copy of Muscle and Fitness to his chair behind the counter so he could flick through it while on the job. It wasn’t a busy morning. Al was away on a trip to try out a new brand of beer that wasn’t yet on the market, any excuse for the old fart to get free booze. Mark was able to serve the regular customers easily enough and without getting too stressed. Once the morning coffee and newspaper rush was over, he could relax a little. His shift would end at five pm, and then Rick, the fat night-guy would take over until closing time at eleven sharp. Mark hated Rick. He was obese and obnoxious and had a body odor problem. Enough said. At approximately ten minutes to eleven that morning, Mark’s life was about to change, and for the better. It began when a large shadow suddenly fell over him. He was lost in an article in Muscle and Fitness about nutrition and had his head down, his long fringe creating a temporary curtain to draw his attention away from this most unforgettable of customers. “Where are your bodybuilding magazines?” the shadow-casting customer inquired somewhat gruffly. Mark froze before looking up, doing a quick recap in his head about the unusual circumstances of the past morning. Okay, so a gym built in sections by just four huge men had happened that morning. And now someone was in asking for bodybuilding magazines. There was a gay bar on the same block. It was probably another homosexual man in to get his jizz-fix. A real hardcore bodybuilder had never been into the store before. That just changed. No wonder the shadow that he cast was large. Mark looked up just as the man was walking towards the magazine rack that he only just spotted. Instantly Mark’s jeans tented out in the crotch. This man wasn’t just a bodybuilder; he was bodyBUILT!!!! “Uhh, they’re on the middle shelf, tuh-to the luh-left,” Mark said, trying not to stammer and give away his nervousness. He was in the presence of a muscle god, an absolute behemoth. He could only see him from behind as the giant muscleman began to scan through the magazines. As he did, he grabbed a couple of chocolate frosted donuts from their display cabinet to his right and wolfed them down whole. “I’ll pay for those when I get my magazine,” he explained, still with a manly huskiness to his voice. It reminded Mark of the way Christian Bale spoke as Batman in The Dark Knight, kind of overstressed at times, but irresistibly masculine. Wow, Mark thought, he’s so big that he can eat anything. He’s probably going into his off-season. Mark couldn’t believe how huge this man was. He took him in from head to toe, safe in the knowledge that this uber-Adonis hadn’t got eyes in the back of his head. His hair was blonde and tight, crew-cut like in the military or something. His bullish neck had to be almost a foot in width, and it connected with the rhomboid major muscles that swept down and into a delta-wedge back that was simply majestic. His shoulders were huge and rounded, making Mark guess that he had to have been six feet wide at the shoulders. Despite that his lats were huge to the extent they forced his arms out on either side (that classic bodybuilder stance times ten), his back tapered down to a contrastingly diminutive waist which was impossible to guess the size of. Thirty-one maybe? But what did that make his chest? At a guess it must be at least three times that number. His balloon-ball butt was huge, the glutes massively developed, and the denim cut-offs he wore only accentuated the shape even more. The shorts had button-flap pockets and the curvature of the ass was so great that the pocket flaps were lying almost horizontally. Mark reckoned that were the guy to squeeze hard enough, he’d pop the buttons right off like cannon-fire. His thighs were like pillars, bloated and beautifully shaped, tapering down to where his legs bent at their middles, only to balloon outward into enormous geometrically precise diamond calves. Each calf was the size of a football. The guy seemed to be enjoying whatever magazine had caught his interest. Without looking up from his reading, he cleared another couple of donuts out of the cabinet and killed them quickly. Mark was mesmerized. He loved the way the huge fellah wore his second-skin red shirt as a cut-off, strategically cut about mid-way down, making it seem as if he was outgrowing his clothes and obviously to maximize on his incredible size and shape. “I’ll pay for those too,” the man said, referring to the third and fourth donut. Mark couldn’t help himself. He was getting this on his camera phone to preserve for all eternity. This would be better than any jizz-mag, watching this massive guy on his PC for years to come. Pity it would only be from the back, for he would have to kill the phone before the guy caught him filming him. Then Mark remembered the surveillance cameras in the store. There were four of them, set to pick up everything. Oh God, Mark thought worriedly, did I forget to change the tape this morning? If it turned out that the cameras were taking in the bodybuilder from four different angles, Mark would have jizz material for years to come. All of this took about three minutes. Finally, the guy picked an issue of FLEX and a bunch of bananas and muscle-strutted to the counter to pay for them. Mark took one look at him now that he could see his face. He was beautiful. Blue eyes, chiseled jawline punctuated perfectly by that “I know I’m fucking hot!” expression of smugness that huge bodybuilders often displayed as their preferred facial expression. This guy was huge enough to be super smug. He flared his lats a little and bounced his pecs twice as he laid his purchases on the counter to be rung up. Mark couldn’t believe his eyes. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t shy and unimposing little Mark Stone. Long time no see, Stony,” the bodybuilder said, raising his arms and pumping himself up to his most huge. His pecs lifted several inches above his super-developed stomach, causing the fabric of his cut-off shirt to strain so that the buttons struggled to stay put. Trey Waters had come back to his hometown. And he was the biggest hulking bodybuilder on the face of the Earth. Part 2 Mark was completely stunned at the sight of his greatest fantasy made flesh before him. He had forgotten that he was holding up his camera phone, the protective cover clearly pushed away from the lens that drank in the vision of Trey Waters: the massively muscled stud almost as much as Mark did with his eyes. Trey acknowledged that and smirked with a mixture of delight and conceit. He raised his hands up to nipple height and made two fists. Immediately thick networks of dark, gorged veins rose from his ham-shank forearms and Mark thought he could actually hear the sound of Trey’s wafer-thin skin groaning against the pressure caused by the power-ravenous tissues beneath. “I’m suh-sorry, Trey...it just happened to be on...and I just...” Mark’s excuse was lame. Why would he have his camera phone set to record just because an exceptional item of interest had entered the most mundane place on Earth? Still smirking, by now Trey was giving off pheromones like wildfire: an invisible miasma of sweat mixed with testosterone and musk. It was intoxicating. Mark began to sway on his feet and had to sit back on the seat next to the till. “Can’t let you keep this, Stony,” said Trey, without a hint of regret for what he was about to do. A huge hand grabbed the camera phone out of a transfixed Mark’s feeble grasp, and what happened next caused his erection to become even more pronounced inside his jeans. Trey placed the phone between pec cleavage deeper than any woman’s or even any super-heavyweight bodybuilder’s. It stayed put quite easily, for the mounds of his heart-muscles were dense and thick, swollen with blood and almost crackling with glycogen. His smirk broadened considerably as he flexed into a most-muscular pose. His trapezius muscles bulged tall, almost seeming to push his collar bones down as they demanded space to grow. Between them, on either side of his throat, the cord-like omohyoid/sternohyoid structures thickened and substantiated beyond what nature had ever intended of them. His deltoids dwelled into a triple-head configuration as his triceps blasted outward almost as far as his biceps bulged inwards, helping to unite his pecs closer as the muscles of his upper body fought against each other for the right to exist. Every muscle was sharply, shockingly defined beyond what a sane mind could comprehend. Between Trey’s enormous, thickly striated pectorals, Mark’s phone was crushed to tiny bits. Not only that, something else was happening - something more extraordinary than the sheer presence demonstrated by Trey’s size. He was growing; this phenomenal spurt of sumptuous expansion was punctuated perfectly not only by the crushed phone, but by a blatantly audible tearing noise, like lightning striking the sail of a ship, rending it apart with an ear-splitting crack. The red cut-off shirt was destroyed at the back as Trey’s lats gorged on blood and pushed outward, beyond the ability for the shirt’s fibers to resist. “Oh yeah, better than yesterday’s reaction...damn hot!? Trey flexed even more, and the short sleeves of his shirt lost their battle against his advancing biceps. As his biceps pushed further out in the opposite direction to his tris, the material of his already clinging shirt could take the strain no longer. It came apart, fibers separating to such a fine degree they floated on the air for a moment like mist, helping to secure this moment in time as something that felt close to timeless. Mark and Trey were separated only by the shop counter. He could have reached out to touch Trey’s flesh had his lust become so strong. But self-preservation kicked in, for there was no telling how Trey would react should Mark try something like that. “And now the money shot,” Trey barked, deciding to send the shirt to Shirt Heaven in a major show of muscle flexing. Before the shirt was destroyed completely at the front, Trey made a full lat-spread, his biggest ever, although Mark was not to know that. Delta wings flared out beneath each arm, so much so there was little room for his biceps to expand further, but expand they did, emphasized by the massive ropy veins that almost split each bicep in two. His pecs seethed with growth and power and buttons pinged in all directions as the heart muscles shredded the cloth and were exposed to the world. The greatest show-spectacle of all time had been revealed from behind a red curtain to a completely captivated audience. “I’m getting huuuuge!” Trey barked in triumph and sheer defiance of nature. In fact, it might be argued that the behemoth made man was laughing in the very face of Nature’s design. How could this be happening? Mark was overwhelmed by the spectacle and couldn’t form a coherent thought in his head. Man-lust had taken him over. But man-lust in the face a god in male form. How could Trey have gotten like this in just four years? It didn’t make sense. There wasn’t a drug known to science that could augment the male physique to such an exaggerated degree, was there? With the last of the shirt finally lying in a tattered mess at his feet, Trey Waters pressed his groin firmly against the side of the counter facing outward and flexed just two feet from Mark’s head, a head that was now dizzy from so much blood coursing through it. “How big do you think I am, Stony?” The quiz was meant to intimidate and stimulate all at once. Trey seemed to get off on showing his muscles to an inferiorly built male whilst simultaneously getting the spectator so boned up with lust. But what good was being served here? Who would get off the furthest and to what end? Trey made a side chest pose, his pecs heaving upwards and outwards, each globe forming a half dozen inch-deep striations (stacked about an inch to two inches apart) across their masses. As he flexed and shaped his shelf to utter magnificence, Mark could almost swear that the muscle between the striations was bulging outwards as Trey’s exhibition excited his heart more and more, forcing it - demanding - that it pump harder and faster to feed his muscles with the blood they needed to grow further still. “Answer my fucking question, midget!” The antagonism in Trey’s voice was apparent and threatening. He’d never been like this back in high school. Sure, he was a jock who loved to play football and lift weights. But back then he was a robust 200 pounds, standing six feet one inches in height. Ok, so maybe some kind of steroid was making his muscles grow, but how could that explain his increase in height? At a guess Mark reckoned Trey to be around four inches taller since his senior year. Then again, he needed to be tall to be able to carry so much amazing muscle. “Uh, thuh-three huh-hundred?” Mark couldn’t contain his stammer. He felt light-headed, far too warm, and the room started to spin. It was intoxicating. Trey’s musk inflamed his senses, and he could feel his balls about to give up their creme. “You fucking ass,” Trey interjected sharply, not giving Mark a chance to finish. He pushed against the counter, causing candy bars to go soaring. The counter moved in by about a foot and a half, slamming Mark on his swivel chair into a shelf of liquor bottles behind him. A few fell and smashed as Mark’s heart missed more than one beat. Trey made another most muscular and inches were immediately added to his shoulders, arms, and chest. The watch on his left wrist fell away as the strap was split apart. Then more tearing of cloth was heard with whip-cracking force as Trey’s denim cut-offs failed to contain the additional augmentation occurring below his waist. “I’m way heavier than three hundred. Try five hundred and six pounds, you infant.” And then with a smirk and an afterthought he added, “...but not for much longer!” Something smashed through the front facing of the counter, blasting through the wood. Denim continued to be destroyed and metal buttons from the flies shot in all directions. One brought down a stack of pet food cans near the main door. Another hit the ultra-violet fly-zapper over the cold meats counter. Where the others went was a mystery. “Unnngh, that feels so fucking good, to let the wee man go free,” Trey exclaimed, arching his upper body away from the counter and leaning his head back as he momentarily gazed upward. His neck flexed thicker than ever. How many inches it was in diameter was a mystery, but Mark guessed it was at least thirty. Wow, he thought as his stupor of lust continued to hold him hostage, my own waist is only twenty-eight. Trey’s neck is thicker than my goddamn waist. This is beyond reason. With his head thrown back and upper body leaning away from the counter, Trey’s mountainous pecs heaved upwards some more, so engorged were they that for a moment he appeared headless. The pecs blocked his neck and head from view. Mark was immediately drawn to the giant’s nipples, each one as big as the tip of his thumb and set in brown areolas the size of silver dollars. The nipples, like everything else on the behemoth, seemed like they were growing still further. Trey's torso was completely hairless, and his body glistened with the sweat brought on by his incredible increase in physical mass. Within two minutes he had swelled to at least twice the size he had been when he entered. He was enormous. But something inside Mark, some primal, innate instinct geared up on lust and his necessity to cum, something that maybe was tripped in him by Trey’s increasing size, told him that the muscle giant's growth was far from finished. But then the growth seemed to slow down and eventually stop. It was only then that Mark suddenly snapped out of his reverie and took stock of his situation. The slide-door to the storage compartment beneath the counter was split apart and the contents within pushed out onto the floor (just a couple of pricing guns, spare sticker cartridges and some rolls for the Visa machine). What had done the pushing out became evident to Mark as he slipped into a sitting position on his side of the counter and struggled to make sense of what he could see sticking through from the customer side. It was Trey’s monster cock, an organ of immense proportions, and strong, too, judging by the force of its expansion and how it made mincemeat of the counter wall. Time seemed inconsistent with reality now. Dust motes on the air seemed to hang with an almost eerie calm. The sounds of life beyond the walls of the store seemed muffled and more distant than usual. There were no sounds or movement coming from Trey. He was still connected with the counter, his back arched backwards and his arms akimbo, the muscles incredibly flexed and gluttonous with blood that seemed no longer to pulse beneath the veined super-highway across most of Trey’s massive frame. “Trey...you...okay?” Terror engulfed Mark, replacing the lust previously besieging him. For the sake of his own safety, he made it to his feet after crawling from behind the counter but in a way that put him a safe distance from Trey and closer to the main door, his only route of escape. It was there that he noticed the customer, frozen in time as she attempted to enter the store. What in hell was going on? Mark felt panicky, gorge rising in his gut. The woman was Mrs. Ching, a regular of the establishment, who always came in on weekday mornings around the same time to buy some bread rolls. If she were to catch sight of a naked muscle hulk apparently making love to the counter, like the one here now, there was no telling what it would do to her sixty-year-old heart. But the woman seemed frozen in time, just like Trey. “Time stands still when Trey flexed to maximum,” Mark said aloud as he gently eased Mrs. Ching out the front door so that he could securely lock it and pull down the blind to create some privacy. “Wait a sec, what am I doing?” This was a personal state of emergency. There was no telling how strong Trey was, or what he could do to Mark should his muscle-lust become unhinged. Now was Mark’s chance to get away. But something caused him to stay put. His cock continued to twitch inside his pants. Mark removed his apron to give himself some freedom, stimulating his genitals by massaging them vigorously. He moaned in delight as bliss replaced his fear. If Trey was as frozen as the rest of the world due to an inexplicable phenomenon, then Mark would have his play. And there was nothing Trey would be able to do about it. Mark found himself moving closer to the frozen god, now within touching distance. The remains of the denim cut-offs lay in disarray around Trey’s size sixteen feet. A big man needed big feet, after all. He was completely naked now, having worn his cut-offs commando style. Nice, Mark thought. Trey’s thighs were enormous, way bigger than they had been just minutes before. “If only I had a tape measure,” he said in annoyance. He knew his uncle kept one somewhere, but he wasn’t about to go fetch it now. He just wanted to touch every inch of Trey’s mega-muscular body, to trace the contours of every striation, every point of one muscle separating from another. He wanted to know those nipples with his tongue, and especially experience what Trey’s monster cock was like fully erect, if he were away from the smashed counter. “Does this mean I’m in control now, free to do with Trey as I please? Did he stop time or did I, somehow, in some fluke act of desperation?” Mark couldn’t answer these questions. He didn’t know how long this effect would last, but should it be temporary, he was determined to make the most of it. He moved around to the frozen Trey’s rear, gasping at the sight of the biggest, bubbliest butt he had ever seen. The glute muscles were beyond exaggeration, if such a term were accurate. How in contrast the butt appeared, next to the graceful taper of a waist upon which such a massive upper body was perched, like a great wedge of rock standing freely on its tiniest point, yet strong and unyielding. Mark touched the striated muscle there and could not believe how hard and dense it felt. His hands roamed freely over the topography of the massive delta that was Trey’s back. His fingers played with every contour like charcoal to the parchment of a brass rubbing. The muscle was hard as granite or steel, his flesh so soft against it. It was a delicious union formed by a contrast that worked with perfection in mind. Mark hastened to get naked behind the frozen Trey so that he could explore him internally as well. His cock was one of his better features. Not porn-star huge by any means, but a good seven and three-quarter inches when fully erect. Mark jerked himself off for a few seconds and lathered up his cock with spit before he guided it less than expertly into the deep cleft of Trey’s rectum. And there he dwelled for a time, pumping smoothly and rhythmically, moaning with nothing short of ecstasy, but wishing Trey could reciprocate in some way. Gradually, as Mark’s pleasure rose to fever-pitch, to a point where he could contain himself no longer, he shot his cream into Trey, holding on to his waist for balance. He looked upwards, seeing the back of Trey’s head as frozen as the rest of him, and wished he could kiss his beautiful lips. Instead, he tongued and kissed the wide expanse of his back, with no shortage of flesh to further enflame his senses. The orgasm was all too brief, and Mark felt the mood passing without the time upon which it had formed. How he could be immune to this phenomenon defied explanation, but he decided suddenly that should time start over once again, it would do him no good to greet it in the buff. He dressed hastily, splashed some cold bottled water on his face and set about getting himself organized. Something had to be done about Trey, locked out of time. But what had become of the rest of the world? “Time manipulation? Trey has to be part of it. He must be from the gym across the street. If these guys can make time bend to their will, that would explain how the gym managed to appear seemingly overnight. Hmmm.” Mark always had a liking for science-fiction. Hopefully, as he investigated this, such a penchant for the weird and the wonderful would serve him well (his mind shifted to being inside Trey once more, shooting his load upward and into the deepest recesses of the muscle-god). It was time to leave the store and venture outside. Whatever was going on, maybe the answers would be found at Shapeshifters across the street. To be continued . . .
  3. MuscleAndBulge

    The Life Changing Discovery

    This is my first attempt at a story. I wrote and posted it on MetaBods a couple of years ago and then didn't return to it until recently. I hope you enjoy, and look forward to new chapters in the future. This is the story Stew, a short and scrawny teenager. But after he discovers a magical artifact, his life becomes bigger and better. ~~~~~ Stew was a typical teenage guy. He had just started college, but he was off for the summer. He studied at a local school, so he lived with his parents. Stew had only made a few friends in high school, but he was trying to get out of his shell more now that he was in college. He had made a few friends in his program, and he had even gone on a few dates with some guys he’d met online. Stew was trying to be more outgoing, since he had been more introverted in high school and wanted to push the limits of his comfort zone. The sun was setting on a Saturday evening at the beach. Stew’s family liked to drive there and spend the day whenever they could. It was a bit of a family tradition. Stew didn’t want to go swimming after they had finished eating, so he unpacked his metal detector and set out looking for random things around the beach. After spending over an hour searching with nothing more than some broken jewelry and some pocket change to show for his effort, he decided to expand his search. He headed over some rocks away from the main part of the public beach. He figured he’d try some place that hadn’t been picked over by dozens of other metal detector enthusiasts. He got to another stretch of shore, but this one was much rockier and filled with seaweed. This must be why no one bothered with this stretch of beach. He started his sweeping pattern and set to work. After a few minutes, he got another hit. Pulling out his trusty spade, he set to work digging it up. He heard the telltale “ting” of metal on metal, letting him know he had found his target. He carefully excavated it and found what appeared to be some sort of metal lamp with ornate design covering the sides. He stashed it away in his backpack to take a closer look at it later. The sun had almost set now, and he was sure the rest of his family was getting ready to leave. He packed up his gear and made his way back to the parking lot. ***** Later that night, after they got home and unpacked everything from the car, Stew brought his stuff to the basement. Stew was the youngest of his brothers, and the only one that still lived with his parents. So, he had most of the basement to himself, and he set it up like a rec room. There was a couch, a TV, some chairs, and a desk to do homework in the corner. When he set down his backpack, he heard the clank of the things he had found at the beach and it reminded him of the strange lamp he found. He took it out of his backpack and sat at his desk to take a better look. It had some corrosion from being in the wet sand for who knows how long. Stew took out a rag and started to scrub some of the dirt away and get a better look at the designs on the side. Starting on one side, he worked his way around until he was back where he started. He squinted to take a better look and brought it closer to his face, when suddenly, it began to vibrate. Startled by this, he let go of it and it clattered onto the desk. It started to glow and rattle more violently. A plume of smoke started to come out of the opening, and the rattling seemed to slow down. The smoke started to become denser and take shape. A muscled torso of a man started to form before him, and stew noticed how buff and toned he was. It reminded of the men’s fitness magazines he had hidden away when he was too young to have his own computer. The man finally came into view, with teal skin and pointed ears pierced with several earrings. Stew and scooted back several feet during the events and was now staring at the strange new guest in his basement hideout with his mouth agape. “Hello” said the floating figure. “My name is Awah’Toh. I am the genie who lives in this lamp. I am here to grant you three wishes” “Holy shit” was all Stew could manage to come up with. The genie tilted his head curiously and said, “why would you bless feces?” This snapped Stew out of his awestruck lack of words. “Genies are real?” He said. The genie looked down and himself, then to the lamp, and then back to Stew and said “Clearly.” It appears a genie can be sarcastic. “So… you can actually grant me three wishes?” “Yes. However, there are limits on my magic. I cannot bring back the dead. I cannot control other people. And I cannot grant immortality. Besides this, I can give you anything you desire.” “So kinda like in Aladdin?” “Who?” Said the genie, puzzled. “Never mind.” Stew said, as his mind started to race with possibilities of what he could ask for. His mind went over the events of the days and started thinking of the beach. He thought about why he didn’t want to join his family when they went swimming. Stew was a rather small for his age. He hadn’t gotten a huge growth spurt in high school like a lot of his classmates had and seemed to have peaked at 5’6”. And he had little to show in the muscle department. His cock was nothing impressive, maxing out at 4” hard. He hated taking his shirt off because it would show off how thin and small he was. That’s why it had been a few years since he had gone swimming at the beach. Being in the water with nothing but his swim trunks showed off everything he didn’t like about his figure. As though a light bulb went off in his head, he made eye contact with the genie and asked “this isn’t one of those monkey paw situations where these wishes turn out to be curses or something, right?” “I’m not familiar with this, but I can assure you, I wish you no ill will” “Alright then. I wish I could make my body bigger” He said decisively. “Very well” the genie nodded slowly, then pointed his fingers at Stew. There was no light and no sparks. Nothing but some fingers pointed. “Did it work?” asked Stew skeptically. “Why not give it a try? Think of the changes you want and see what happens” After finished his hand motion, the genie crossed his arms over his chest. As he did so, his muscles flexed and showed off their size. This gave Stew all the inspiration he needed. He concentrated on these muscles and thought of how he wanted the same thing. His body felt strange. It wasn’t unpleasant, perhaps even good. As thought a thousand tiny hands were massaging his skin at once. He looked down at himself and saw the changes unfold. His chest started to expand under his loose-fitting shirt. His arms were getting thicker too, making his sleeves tight. His shirt was now too tight for him. Moving his arms made the shirt bunch and stretch in ways Stew was not familiar with. His jeans were also becoming snug around his legs as he filled them out more and more. The changes slowed to a stop. Stew started to touch his arms and chest to make sure they were real, and sure enough they were very real. He looked at the genie and smiled. “This is amazing!” “I’m glad you enjoy my handiwork” he said with another slow nod. Stew’s mind was going wild now as thoughts started jumping around inside his head. “How big can I get?” He asked with an excited tone. “You never wished for a maximum size, so there isn’t one” Awah’Toh said matter-of-factly. This brought on another wave of excitement for Stew. He looked over at his computer and remembered the pictures of morphed muscle men he had seen online. He thought about one of his favourite photos and held the image in his head. But before he did anything else, he ran over to the old full-length mirror that had been stored in the corner of the room after some renovations. Stew was now ready and thought about how he wanted to look like that morphed man with the exaggerated features. He watched in the mirror as his muscles once again started to expand. His shirt got tighter and tighter until the seams started to rip, and his new flesh started to spill out of the tears. He got caught up in the moment and flexed to see how it looked in the mirror. Just then, his shirt reached its limit and fell off in tatters, revealing Stew’s now bulging and growing torso. His muscles continued to expand, his shoulders getting wider and his pecs growing outwards until Stew’s chin bumped into them as he tried to look down. His abs formed a tight eight-pack of fist sized bulbs that each cast their own shadow. His biceps were the size of bowling balls and his triceps looked twice as big as a normal bodybuilder’s would be. After scoping out the changes that happened above his waist, Stew realized that his jeans looked like leggings and the seams were held together by threads. Shortly after he realized how strained they were, he bent over to examine the damage. This caused his muscles to flex. Almost like rip-off pants, they fell away from his legs, leaving him standing there in nothing but his underwear. “Wow” Was all Stew could say. He turned around, inspecting his new proportions in the mirror. He would flex and turn and flex and turn, amazed by the results. He loved how he looked now. The feeling of his new strength felt amazing. But after a few minutes of looking at himself in the mirror for a few minutes, something started to bother stew. He looked at his junk. It was covered by his briefs. He had worn a special spandex pair for his trip to the beach, just in case he decided to go swimming. His cock had felt small before, but with his new swollen muscles grown to huge proportions, it looked comically small under the blue stretchy fabric. “Is something wrong? Are you not satisfied with your wish?” Piped up the genie. Stew felt sheepish all of a sudden. “Does… Does it work on uhh…” his voice trailed off, embarrassed by what he wanted to ask. It was comical how this gargantuan wall of muscle was fidgeting with the waistband on the only piece of clothing he wore. “Can it work on my cock?” he finally blurted out. “You wished to make your body bigger. Your cock, as you call it, is part of your body, is it not?” Stew’s heart began to race with the new ideas coming to mind. This time Stew simply thought about how he wanted a bigger dick. He didn’t think of anything for inspiration. Just simply: bigger. Then, on command just like his previous changes, his underwear began to fill. The change was slow at first. His dick started to show through the fabric, outlining the growing member. It slowly grew to fill the pouch, then it began to push beyond the boundaries of what was normal. It stuck out further and further in front of him, growing to the size of a cantaloupe. Stew could finally see the bulge over his pecs. This was substantial, because of how huge his pecs were now. Looking in the mirror again, Stew surveyed his new addition. He touched the bulge with his whole hand. His bulge jiggled somewhat, then a shock of pleasure coursed threw his cock. This surprised Stew. It was as though the sensitivity of his cock had grown along with the size. He rubbed the front of the pouch, feeling it stretch as he pushed it from side to side, enjoying the sensations that went along with the motions. Stew was beyond excited now. He couldn’t believe that this person he saw in the reflection was actually him. He loved every crevice and curve his body now had.
  4. Dylan’s Muscle Growth BY LORUS My name is Dylan. Dylan Mass. Can you actually believe that’s my surname? What were my parents thinking? My dad took part in some secret government experiment back in the early ‘90s and changed his surname from ‘Grady’ to ‘Mass’ in anticipation of “big changes” to come. Alas, the experiment was a failure. Or so the powers-that-be initially thought. One hundred men signed up for the trial of this serum connected to Area 51, or some shit like that. I don’t have all the details, as all records of the program were destroyed when the secret facility “accidentally” burned down. My dad, along with ninety-nine other suckers, were told their bodies would be transformed into supermen: Metazoans, to be exact. But it never happened. The 100 men went their separate ways and everything was forgotten over time. Until I and several dozen others were born some years later. And now most of us are in our late teens or early twenties, and things were very different for us. Before I continue my story, let me explain what Metazoans are. We’re super-HUGE bodybuilders, one and all. Of coure, we’re not all exactly the same. This is determined by when our genetic gifts passed on by our gay fathers – yup, you heard me – actually kick in. The guys who develop early into puberty have all that extra adolescent growth hormone to help them grow not only massive muscles, but reach huge heights, too. There’s one guy in America, Ronny Fortuna, who is over 12-feet tall, and weighs over 5000 lbs. He’s the biggest documented Metazoan in the world. Huge, yes, but it’s not just about height versus weight and the overall distribution of muscle mass around the body. It’s got to do with muscle density. That’s what all we growth-freaks focus on with our eating and training, as well as how much Metazenic activity is happening in our bodies’ cells. The lucky ones – like me and only two others in the world – were late bloomers. Sure, we went through adolescence like any other bloke, but we knew we were special because we were naturally big and athletic from late childhood onwards. But our heights developed more or less just beyond the natural threshold, so all three of us are pretty much of equal height . And, like all Metazoans, we were encouraged – with help from the Cyrus Redfern Institute of Metazenic Research – to bodybuild like fucking crazy, so that when our Metazenic genes finally kicked in post-puberty, our muscle gains would be crazy. I stopped gaining height when I turned 18. 6 feet 6 inches is really a terrific height for a bodybuilder. I may not be anywhere near Ronny Fortuna’s weight. But I’m half the height he is and, well... let me start at the beginning. Lots of good stuff here. And it’ll have you cumming like a fucking rutting bull, I guarantee it. So back then I stopped gaining height at 18. Which was fine. It meant that I could concentrate on packing on as much muscle as possible, which to guys like me, really is to grow without limit. The feeling of my muscles getting bigger and bigger and bigger with no end in sight, makes me want to jizz just by thinking about it. Oh man, if only you normals could live my life. Once the height increases stopped, I really began to fill out. I celebrated my 18th birthday at a special ceremony hosted by the good folks at the Redfern Institute. Cyrus Redfern came out of hiding three years before this, when the government approached him to not exactly re-initiate the program he’d designed that everyone thought had utterly failed, but to create a facility where the gay sons of the gay men who partook of the original experiment could now be monitored and studied. But it’s not like we’re lab rats or anything. We’re not locked in cages and prodded with sticks or nothing. We actually have every luxury afforded to us. Redfern and his team are particularly interested in me and the other two who no longer gain height, but seem to grow bigger, stronger and denser muscles as if by mental will alone. Daniel – from Sweden – weighs about the same as I did back then, but my pecs are way­ bigger than Daniel’s, which got him miffed every so often, when I’d beat his bench press record, sometimes with just one arm, heh heh heh. I will admit to being an upper-body growth freak, and although my legs are pretty well-developed, I tend to concentrate on growing my upper body as much as possible. I’m the bustiest bodybuilder on the planet, even “out-peccing” the 7- and 8-footers, who continue to gain height proportionate to their increases in mass, so it looks like they’re not really filling out as much as myself, Daniel and Flex. Flex is the baby of the three. 18 years-old now, but stopped gaining height when he was fifteen, reaching a respectable 6 feet 3 inches. He was bodybuilding near-constantly, even dropping out of school. There was no need for us to get smart. Everything we’d ever need monetarily would be provided by the Redfern Institute, so we could concentrate on being big dumb muscle-jocks building our bodies to godlike prortions and beyond. Flex doesn’t have the mass of me or Daniel, but his cock is fucking enormous. I love to get fucked by it as much as possible, because being fucked helps me to concentrate on training harder and getting huge beyond belief. In fact, Flex spends more time fucking us other “hugies” – sometimes even during our training sessions – than actually concentrating 500% on his own bodybuilding. Musky muscle-sex in a Redfern-facilitated gym is one of the best things ever. Even my gorgeous male model boyfriend Cole gets in on the action. He’s not a bodybuilder, and has no plans to ever take it up. He’s not Metazenic, but is a respectable 6 feet tall and a slender 145 lbs. His weight tends to fluctuate, though. And that’s my fault. But I’ll get to that later. A week after my 18th birthday, I noticed that I wasn’t gaining further muscle mass. I’d been recently measured, in awe of my 48-inch arms, 103-inch chest, taut 34 waist, mammoth 60-inch thighs and 32-inch calves. The Institute developed some amazing new training equipment as a present for my birthday, plus refinements to the Enerflex serum originally given to our fathers, only it didn’t work on them but instead passed into their semen, so that when they impregnated our mothers... well you get the idea. Enerflex helps us to grow in the same way steroids work on regular 'mortal' bodybuilders. Except with us the growth is more dramatic. Enerflex used to work pretty fast, actually increasing our mass in just minutes. But that led to uncomfortable skin-tightening – and in extreme but rare cases – actual tearing. The formula was refined and now it’s a slow-release metabolic catalyst. It also makes our skin more elastic, so we don’t get stretch marks or tearing. Redfern provided me a decent dose of Enerflex for my birthday, so I could put the new machines to the test. Using powerful electromagnets to provide the resistance where normal gym iron simply couldn’t give muscle-gods like us the workouts we deserved, I soon had their gears grinding and wailing as I pushed the machines to their limit. I broke all of my lifting records and grew ENORMOUS in just two hours, bursting out of my gym clothes until I was fuckin’ naked in front of my parents, younger step-brothers (non-Metazoans), as well as the onlooking team of understudies under Redfern’s tuition. It’s fine. My parents are really open-minded about this sort of thing because they accept and encourage me to become an even more exceptional son. My step-bros, whom my step-mum had prior to marrying my father are just typical averagely-built teenagers. Bud, the youngest, is into video-games and nothing but. He has no interest in getting a girlfriend, whereas Stevie is a bit of a slut and goes through girls like tenpins, which is his thing. Even though we’re not related, he has the same blonde hair, blue eyes, and angelic dimples as I do, so we could pass as biological brothers. Only I’m fifteen times his bodyweight, and it’s all fuckin’ muscle. I love my family, but enough about them. I packed on 150+ lbs of muscle, that day, much to my delight. I was a massive, bulging jock of hugeness. My veins looked like they were going to burst out of my skin as I flexed and growled and cockily displayed my massive size to all those staring in shock at my growth. “Well done, Dylan,” said Doctor Redfern, but he didn’t mind us calling him Uncle Cyrus. “That’s your most impessive growth spurt yet. And on your 18th birthday, too.” Laser scanners built into the gym-cum-lab took my measurements with ease. My fuckin’ gorgeously ballooning muscle-chest, had increased in part thanks to my birthday workout from 103 mind-blowing inches, to 116 inches. I was huge, but it simply wasn’t enough. I growled like the hulk, flexing my muscles harder and harder, my 16-inch cock swelling and hardening with every pose I struck. One of Redfern’s team was there with a vial to collect my precum for analysis, but Uncle Cyrus regularly drank the fluids of his muscle-god progeny, as it kept him feeling young and vital and full of vigor. My dad also took it in capsule form, as it helped him grow back his receding hairline, overcome impotency, and get my step-mum up the duff at 39 with a new half-sibling. I guess I’m a walking Wellbeing Clinic. Back to my growth spurt: “It’s impressive, yeah. But I want more. Much more. Can’t you give me a fuckin’ overdose of that Enerflex, Uncle Cyrus? I really want to grow my muscles bigger than Ronny Fortuna’s. Imagine me outmuscling the biggest Metazenic muscle-giant on planet Earth, actually weighing more than he does, but at only half his height? I’d be fucking amazing!” “You’re amazing already, son,” my dad assured me. I got my amazing good looks from him. Pity the Metazoan stuff from days long gone hadn’t worked on him. Turned out that of the 100 participants, only the gay ones actually produced the exceptional offspring. The reason for this is still being searched for and Redfern is confident he’ll nail it, one day. My dad is gay, but also pansexual, so pretty much anything with a pulse will turn him on, so long as it’s human. He’s very happy with his missus. Of course, all Metazenic bodybuilders like me are engineered to be gay. This was initially introduced to keep our numbers low and not turn the entire human race into massively muscled mega-hunks. Also, the serum only works on the Y-chromosomes, so women aren’t affected. Sorry girls, but all this muscle is for the guys. “You should both start drinking my jizz,” I’d often say to my step-bros. They’d yet to take me up on this, but if they took it in capsule form, like my dad, then what was there to be grossed about? It’d lenghten their lives and improve their overall fitness. I often drink my own, just for fun, and mostly after workouts. I hate wasting protein. In fact, I can’t get enough. I ate 24 chicken breast pizzas at my birthday along with a dozen massively protein-infused muscle shakes. Combined with the workout and the Enerflex, I should have grown more muscle on my birthday. “I’m not about to hand out Enerflex freely, Dylan. It’s hard to produce and slow to quicken. There is a batch in development, but it’ll be a week at least before it’s ready. For now continue to bodybuild as you normally would, by lifting fast and lifting heavy, getting plenty of sleep, and eating plenty of protein-rich foods. You can also try different steroid combinations, but we don’t provide them here. Just stick to trustworthy sources,” Redfern advised, Daniel once got hold of some sinister shit on the dark web that made him grow huge, but it also gave him the worst urinary infection in history, and he spent nine days in hospital. We all learned from that one. “So in a week, can I have a MASSIVE dose? I want to get fuckin’ gigantic, Uncle Cyrus,” and to demonstrate my rampant hunger to bodybuild and bodybuild and bodybuild beyond all sane thought, I exploded into a massive upper body lat-spread flex, puffing out my ribcage and inflating my muscle-boobs until you could barely see my head. I actually got out of breath doing this. Some of the research team got erections and wet stains in their pants, but that was to be expected. My body seemed to grow, but it was only just the muscles flexing with extra blood powered by my increased heart rate and adrenal gland going into overdrive. I soon came bucketloads, which, of course, was collected for study and consumption. I drank some of my own jizz back mixed with a protein shake, then worked out until long after my family had gone home. I spent a lot of time at the Institute, because I was too strong to live at home and was forever breaking things and putting my elbows through the walls and stuff. I could easily lift up the family car and toss it about fifty feet by this stage of my growth. I was even stronger after my growth spurt, so I could probably benchpress a fire truck now. On the night my birthday ended, I lay restless in my modified bed in my modified room at the Institute. I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to get bigger. These are the thoughts that ran through my head, chanted as a personal mantra to help me grow... huger and huger and huger... When I go to the gym, I don’t go to hang out, or to be seen, or to socialize. I go for one reason only: to BODYBUILD. This is reason for being. My only reason to exist. I exist solely to bodybuild. I am a bodybuilder. I need to grow my body bigger and stronger. And I will gain more and more freakish muscle as I enhance my BODYBUILDING progress in order to get so much bigger. So while the ‘normals’ of this world are showing off their enhanced pics on Instagram and doing shitty workouts with shitty weights, just for show and to grab more and more followers, THIS huge fucker is BODYBUILDING and BODYBUILDING, and BODY-FUCKING-BUILDING, GRRRRRRRR, bigger than he’s ever been. I AM A BODYBUILDER. AND I AM GOING TO GROW. AND GROW. AND GROW. I am the best built bodybuilder. I am the biggest and densest bodybuilder relative to my height. Gotta bodybuild and do so much more bodybuilding, so I can bodybuild and bodybuild and bodybuild huger than ever I AM A BODYBULDER. Aw fuck yeah!!! Watch me grow huge... into a huge bodybuilder. So huge from bodybuilding to be bodybuilt with the body of a massive bodybuilder. THIS is what bodybuilding is. It’s what it is to be a gigantic bodybuilder. I will bodybuild more. And when it seems like my bodybuilder’s body can’t grow any more, I will do more and more bodybuilding, breaking new ground, bodybuilding and bodybuilding and BODY-FUCKING-BUILDING MORE AND MORE AND GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!! But the next week was hell. Because I didn’t gain another pound of muscle. And that pissed me off a great deal.
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