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Trying something a little different this time. Shorter chapters for quicker reading. As always, enjoy the feedback. Winter Hook-Up Part 1. As I look out the front door windows of the Hampton Inn Sayre in north central Pennsylvania, about ½ mile south of the New York state line, all I see is snow. Snow and more snow. It’s been snowing most of the day. I glance back down to my computer and see five or six of our confirmed reservations have not checked in yet, on this snowy, cold Friday evening. I glance at my computer and it indicates the temp is in the low teens, a few degrees lower than it was earlier. I’m hoping the roads have been plowed and salted on this frigid January night. We already have two feet of snow from earlier storms at Christmas and last weekend, but this one has some lake effect snow reaching us, which will add another half foot by midnight. I’m glad the back office has a bed and that I packed an overnight bag. I always bring one, if there is any call for the white stuff. I’ve learned the hard way about traveling on unplowed roads from my home in Ulster to the hotel. It’s only 11 miles and on a good day I can make the drive north on route 220 in 15 minutes, but add any snow, and it becomes a treacherous 45-minute ride through the mountains. Not that I’m scared of driving on a snowy road, my black 2017 Chevy Silverado 1500 is great and has all-wheel drive, which is a life saver, it’s the other drivers which make me nervous. I’ve seen too many spin-outs and crashes this time of year due to inexperience or over-confidence. I glance up at the TV in the lounge and see the local weather person is showing potential accumulations. I sigh heavily as she indicates we’re expecting more than what was predicted. My eyes shift to the front doors as they slide open and a gust of snow filled cold air sweeps in. A tall gentleman walks thru bundled in a neon yellow and black Uline Class 3 Hi-Vis Polar parka. He has an LL Bean Storm Teal Mountain Classic Cordura duffel bag slung over his enormous right shoulder. He has a gray knit cap covering his head and it has one of those silly pom-pom tops, which my parents wore back in the late 70’s or early 80’s, his pom-pom is bright green. His hands are covered with brown leather gloves which seem to be insulated. But the thing which shocks me out of my staring at him is that he is wearing skin tight black sweatpants and a pair of dark blue Asics sneakers, in the frigid night air. The sneakers are covered with snow from his short trip from the frozen parking lot, but he does not seem phased by it. I control myself as best as possible, but something about him… He confidently walks up to the desk. I put on my best smile and say, “Good evening, sir, welcome to the Hampton Inn. How may I help you?” He lets the duffel slide off his shoulder, then he pulls off the gloves, and shoves them into pockets of the jacket. His hands are huge, hairy, and calloused. No desk job for this guy. He pulls the snow-covered knit hat off, holds it in his right hand, revealing a full head of mouse brown hair neatly pulled back into a tight bun. He greets me with a deep manly voice as his dark green eyes shift to my name tag then back to my light brown eyes, “Good evening, Samuel, I was hoping it is not too late for me to check in?” I smile again and reply, “Of course not, sir. We’re just glad you made it here thru the inclement weather.” He smiles to me. “May I have your name, please.” “Finn O’Daniel.” There’s an Irish name if I’ve ever heard one. I grin and see him smile at me with pearly white teeth. His face is clean shaven and he has a strong jaw line. I detect a bit of a tan on his face and hands. My hands dance over the keyboard entering his name. I quickly find his reservation. “Yes, sir, here we are. Mr. O’Daniel, two nights, Friday and Saturday.” I glance up and he nods. I look back down and start checking boxes indicating he’s arrived and no other guests with him as indicated. I print out the reservation confirmation form, grab two key cards, activate them, and put them in a small envelope. “Mr. O’Daniel, here are your keys cards for room 333, a copy of the reservation form, and a placard for your vehicle. Please put it on your dashboard so we don’t have it towed, by accident.” He nods. “If you could please sign here and here,” I make small checks where he needs to sign. “We have your credit card on file. We will use that one at check-out, unless you indicate you’d like to use a different one.” He grabs a pen with his left hand and signs where I have indicated. “I do have a question regarding payment.” He glances into my eyes and slyly smiling asks, “Would it be possible to pay with cash when I check-out?” I’ve had this request in the past and it’s a bit weird in todays’ credit card world, but we do accept cash. “Of course, sir, no problem.” He smiles. “Just be sure to let us know so we don’t charge your card.” “Thank you.” He nods. I make a note on the computer under his reservation, just to be safe. As I review the form on my computer, I see one more question I need to ask, “May I ask the reason for your visit this weekend? Business or pleasure?” I glance back up to him and see he’s got an ear-to-ear grin. “Well, truth be told, Samuel, I’m here for the amateur wrestling event at the Harlan Rowe middle school tomorrow afternoon.” He winks at me and I blush. “I guess it would be considered ‘business’” He air quotes business, “but it will be more fun than work.” I keep staring at his face so my eyes don’t do an obvious gawk of his still hidden body. His eyes shift to scan my body first. I’m in the standard hotel uniform; black suit jacket, white shirt, black tie, and black pants and shoes with black argyle socks. I’m supposed to have my jacket buttoned when greeting customers, but the jacket is getting tight due to my new work-out routine, so I leave it unbuttoned. I stand at 5’9”, weigh 160 lbs., and am proud of the tight body I’ve working for. My brown hair is spiked and has blonde highlights on the tips. He smiles again and nods. I do a quick once over of him, but cannot get a read on what’s under that heavy jacket. He’s at least 6’2’, and he must be huge as the jacket is either an XL or XXL. His feet look to be size 14 and his legs, well let’s just say, he doesn’t skip leg day. I now see his quads and calves clearly in the tightly stretched black sweatpants. We lock eyes again and he politely asks, “Is there a place to grab a bite to eat? The trip from Schenectady took a bit longer due to the snow and I ate my last Chocolate Peanut butter PowerBar around Sidney.” “Of course, Mr. O’Daniel.” I pull a menu from the brochure stand. “Right across the parking lot is the Bluestone Brewery. Great craft beer and food. If you’re into burgers, may I suggest the Big ‘Mac daddy’ burger.” He takes the menu, nods and says thanks. He gathers up his duffel, wanders to the curved stairway in the far corner of the lobby, and makes his way up, taking the stairs two at a time. A minute later I faintly hear the door on the third floor open and shut. I let out my breath and sit heavily in the chair behind me. I think, ‘Wow.’ I heard about the wrestling event as other people who checked in today were talking about it, but thought it was just some half-assed event that a bunch of locals threw together for some winter fun. You know, the former high school wrestlers trying to relive their youth and glory. But Mr. O’Daniel seems to be the real deal and many steps above the local talent. I get on the computer, do a quick search, and find the event. I see it’s being promoted by a reputable business. I look for a line-up, but cannot find one. I guess with the snow, some wrestlers may have had to cancel and they did not want to prematurely list the participants. I think back to earlier in the day, we had a few families check in, and they’re reason for the visit was ‘pleasure’. I don’t remember seeing and other bigger guys come in, but maybe Shari did during her shift, or they could be staying at a few of the other hotels near-by. I go back to my chair and relax. I’m skimming thru Insta when faintly I hear a door open on one of the upper floors. A few minutes later Mr. O’Daniel comes down the curved stairs and makes his way thru the lobby and out the front doors as another gust of snowy wind pushes into the lobby. I see he changed his pants from sweats to jeans. Everything else is the same. I see the snow has not let up and is accumulating in the parking lot and on the sidewalk. I walk around the desk to the door and do a quick scan, looking for Jordan and his plow truck. I spy him at the far end of the parking lot, maneuvering around the parked vehicles. Stan and Evelyn are bundled up and clearing the sidewalks between the lots. I walk back behind the deck and settle in for a long, slow night. The snow will definitely keep people away. 45 minutes later and dad and his two teenage sons walk in. All of them are bundled up, carrying overnight bags, and are shaking snow from their hats and shoes. As I am finishing checking them in, I see Mr. O’Daniel come thru the doors with a take-away bag of leftovers. The younger son spots him and his eyes light up. He grabs his older brother’s arm and not so quietly says, “Dude, there’s the Irish Madman.” The brother turns and his eyes get just as large. “Oh my god, you’re right, that’s him.” The older son pokes his dad’s side and says, “Dad…dad, look, the Irish Madman is staying here…look.” The father calmly says, “Hold on Gordie, let me finish getting us checked in.” He signs all the paperwork and turns to see his kids have left him and gone over to see the wrestler. He turns back to me, smiles and says, “Kids.” I smile back and glance over to the crowd. The kids have surrounded Mr. O’Daniel and are peppering him with questions. He is calmly answering them and has his ear-to-ear grin on his face. The father walks over and attempts to pull his kids away from their apparent idol. I hear him patiently say, “Guys, stop bugging Mr. Madman.” I hear Mr. O’Daniel proudly say, “It’s all right sir, I’m always happy to meet fans and talk to them.” I notice he’s added a definite Irish brogue to his voice. Part of this gimmick, I guess. They talk for another few minutes, he signs some autographs and takes some pictures. The dad pulls his sons away and head up the stairs. Mr. O’Daniel heads toward me, giving the family time to get up the steps, so he is not ambushed. As he approaches the desk, I calmly ask, “So Mr. Irish Madman, how does it feel to meet your fans.” He unzips his jacket and I see he is wearing a white compression t-shirt, which leaves nothing to the imagination. It is tucked into his jeans, showing off his taut abs. His chest is huge and stretches the shirt to the limit. His nipples are hard, apparently from the cold, and are poking the shirt. I see a sprout of hair coming out the top of the shirt, indicating he probably has a nice hairy chest. He chuckles, winks, and says without the accent, “95% of the time, the fans are harmless, like those guys. The other 5%, well…let’s just say their hands tend to get a bit too frisky.” He rolls his eyes and I let out a laugh. I glance at his chest and think, ‘I can see why’. I immediately ask, “How was your dinner?” He smiles again and slaps his huge hand on the counter with a loud bang, “Samuel, you hit the nail on the head with your suggestion.” I grin. “That place was great. The burger was awesome and their Penna Pale Ale was outstanding.” He dangles the carry-out bag and says, “Just some more protein for later tonight.” “You’re welcome, and please call me Sammy. Only my gran calls me ‘Samuel’ outside of this place.” He laughs and says, ‘Well ok, Sammy. Then please call me Finn.” I nod in appreciation and we shake, his hand engulfing mine. “How long does your shift last?” He’s trying to make small talk to make sure he can get upstairs undetected. I could show him the back stairwell, but this is nice and he seems to genuinely want to talk to me. “I get done around midnight, or whenever my replacement gets here with this snow.” He nods. “It’s not too bad. At least I don’t have to drive home. I brought an overnight bag and there’s a bed in the back office.” “Well, it’s good you don’t need to drive tonight. The roads were getting bad on my drive down and even from the walk to the bar and back, it’s coming down harder.” He casually looks me in the eyes and asks, “What are you doing tomorrow afternoon?” I think, ‘oh fuck, he’s hitting on me.’ How do I answer that? ‘Would I like to spend time with Finn, yeah, to get to know him, but…’ He interrupts my thought with, “Would you like some tickets to the wrestling event?” In my mind I breathe a sigh of relief. “They gave me a bunch to give to friends and family, but no one wanted to travel down here with this storm going on, so I have extra to give away.” I casually say, “Sure. I’m off tomorrow, so that would be great.” He claps his hands together and excitedly says, “Nice, how many do you want? 3 or 4?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me. I blush and say, “Just one for me is fine, thank you.” His eyebrows go up a quarter of an inch as he asks, “What? No friends or family? Gran not into seeing ‘The Irish Madman’?” He leans back, puffs out his huge chest and does a quick double bi pose, but his jacket hides his arms, but I’m guessing they’re pretty big, like the rest of him. He adds his fake Irish brogue when saying his stage name. I laugh with him, but blurt out, ‘No, just one. Gran’s not the one into big muscular guys wrestling around.” I curse myself, ‘fuck, that came out completely wrong, dammit.’ Finn leans back, slaps his right hand on the desk, and lets out a hearty roar. “You’d be surprised how many older ladies we get in the audience. Remember the 5% who can be too frisky with their hands? Well half of them are the older ladies.” I take the bait, “Who are the other half?”, knowing what he’s about to say. Finn puffs out his already huge chest and says with his Irish brogue, “The gay gentlemen. They can be the worst.” He lets out another laugh and so do I. “Ok, I’ll run up and get the ticket for you.” “Thanks, you know where I’ll be.” He winks and heads up the steps, taking them two at a time. A few minutes later I hear him coming back down. He’s shed his jacket and is back in sweatpants. He is huge. Larger than I imagined. The compression shirt is long sleeved, but his arms stretch it to the limit, like his chest does. He must be pushing 275 easy. He catches me glancing at him and just smiles. He hands me the ticket and winks, then quickly heads back up the steps. I catch a glimpse of his ass, and it is magnificent. About 20 minutes later, at about 10:30, the front doors slide open and younger gentlemen walks in, covered in snow, and bundled up. I don’t recognize him as a guest, but he glances around the lobby, see the steps, but looks to his right and see the elevators. He heads to the elevators and patiently waits for one. The doors ding, open, he steps in, and they close. He must have checked in earlier in the day with Shari. I notice it stops on the third floor. I go back to reading my Kindle. Next thing I know, it’s getting close to midnight. Nobody else has checked in. I’m hoping Jimmy will be able to make it in. I check my phone, but don’t see any messages from him. Guessing he’s still on the way. I don’t send him a text as I don’t want to distract him, if he’s still driving. I hear the elevator ding. The guy who came in a while ago is bundled up and is on his way out. I pause for a split second; then just let it go. I’ve done the random hook-up in a hotel, so I’m not surprised about it. I am kind of shocked he did it on this snowy night. I do wonder who he met with? I briefly consider Finn, but put it out of my head. He seems to fly the straight and narrow, although, with his body, I’m sure he could get a lot of men or women to spend some time with him. Ten minutes later, I hear the office door open behind me and Jimmy walks in. His face is flushed and his hair is damp. I bob my head to him and say, “Hey.” He nods back, rubbing his hands together. “I’d ask, but I can tell.” Jimmy is a few years younger than my 32, and he’s lived in Sayre his whole life. He curtly says, “It never gets old. Stupid people still drive like not a flake has fallen. You wouldn’t believe the number of spin-outs I passed.” He shakes his head. I laugh. “You should have a quiet night.” He nods. “Only one or two reservations have not checked in. My guess is, they’ve cancelled due to the snow, but just didn’t call.” He nods again. “I’m going to stay in the back office. Not really in a mood to get into an accident tonight.” “Wise move, Sammy.” We continue to talk and the front doors open and a middle age man comes in. We glance over and see he’s bundled up, of course, with snow on his jacket and baseball hat, and heads to the stairs. He heads up and I don’t give it a second thought. Jimmy comments, “A bit late to be coming back. He doesn’t look like he’s been drinking?” I shrug my shoulders, “Eh, to each his own.” I sign-off the computer so Jimmy can sign-in. “I’m going to hit the head, then call it a night.” He nods as I head to the back office. Saturday morning. I’m sitting in the breakfast area in a pair of comfortable jeans and a sweatshirt, after grabbing a quick shower in pool area bathroom. I am looking out the large windows at the risen sun. It’s about 8:30 and last night’s snow has come to an end. Jordan, Evelyn and Stan have done a great job at clearing the parking lots and sidewalks. Plenty of salt has been spread. There are not too many people in the room. I scoop another helping of scrambled eggs onto my fork and stab a piece of sausage. I hear a strong manly voice behind me ask, “Sammy, would you mind if I joined you?” I turn, already knowing it’s Finn. I smile and wave my hand to an empty chair and say, “Of course, Finn. Please sit.” I see he’s in jeans, a short sleeve dark blue compression shirt, and sneakers. His hair is still in a bun. He has not shaved yet and I can see a day’s worth of stubble appearing. I glance at his arms and almost choke on the sausage I’m still chewing. They’re huge, at least 17 inches unflexed. As he sits, he sets his plate down and I see he has twice as much food on it as I did. Well, he is about twice my size, so it makes sense. Lots of eggs and bacon, a few bananas, and a bowl of strawberries. He also has a large glass of water. I remark, “No coffee?” He shakes his head as he chews a strip of bacon. He swallows and says, “No. Never got the taste for it. You?” “Same. Also, I am pretty much either asleep or awake. There is no in-between, so no need for coffee to wake me up.” He nods in understanding while scooping up another helping of eggs. “I’m glad to see the storm has passed. Should be a clear day, all-be-it frigid, but clear.” He nods again. “Any word if the wrestling match is still on or not?” He finishes his mouthful of eggs and says, “It is still on. I got a text this morning that the school parking lot has been plowed and the event staff are there right now getting everything set up.” Now it’s my turn to nod as I chew on a granny smith apple. “I’ll be heading over in a few hours to stretch and warm up. What are your plans for the day?” He gives me a coy smile and playfully asks, “Any exciting plans on your day off?” He chuckles and so do I. I sarcastically respond, “Well, I do have a week’s worth of white shirts that need washing and ironing, plus a house that needs a good vacuuming. So, yeah, lots of exciting things to do today.” He smiles and shakes his head. I casually add, “Oh, and I have a free ticket to some bush league wrestling event later this afternoon. I may head over and see what backwater talent they scraped together.” I raise an eyebrow at him and he raises one back at me. He puts his left elbow on the table, make a fist with his hand, and moves it toward his chin. But what he wants me to see, without saying, is the 21-inch bicep he’s flexing. He innocently asks, while flexing and unflexing his arm, “I hope this is bush league enough for you?” I gulp and he winks at me again. “I think I have a pretty good chance of winning, don’t you?” I quickly and quietly say, “Yes.” I may have overstepped. I immediately apologize, “I’m sorry if I offended you, Finn. It was not my intention.” He playfully responds, “No worries, Sammy. I get it all the time. Trust me, this is not my 9 to 5. If it were, I’d be upset. This is just one of my hobbies. This, the occasional bodybuilding contest, and giving awesome massages, are what I do to have some fun.” I breathe a sigh of relief, but my ears perk up. “You give massages?” I ask in a shocked voice. He nods. “What technique do you use, deep tissue, Swedish, or Tantric?” Finn’s fork stops in mid-air as he stares at me. He points his left pinkie at me, squints, and cautiously asks, “Sammy, how do you know massage terms like that? Are you holding back on me?” I casually shrug my shoulders, not letting on that I also give massages on the side. “Most people barely know there are different massage techniques, even fewer know the correct names.” I give the barest of smiles. “Uh-huh. Ok, so Bellhop boy here does massage work on the side.” I start to laugh at his playful jab. He laughs as well and jokingly says, “We may need to compare techniques at some point.” My face drains and I think, ‘Is he being serious?’. He pokes again and says, “Come on Bellhop,” His new nickname for me it would seem, “What do you say, we give each other a massage and compare techniques and results?” He raises his left eyebrow again. I easily respond with his new nickname, “Ok bush league, deal.” I reach my small hand across the table and his mitt of a hand engulfs mine, and we shake. He gives me another once over, I guess to see what my muscle mass looks like. I catch his glance and wave him off, “Don’t you worry about my size, bush league, I’ve got enough muscle to work over guys bigger than you.” I know, as one of my regulars, Tommy, is over 300 pounds, but he is not nearly as muscular as Finn. He smiles and says, “I’m sure you do, Bellhop, I’m sure you do.” He checks the clock on the wall as do I. It’s about 9:30. “Damn. Sorry Sammy, I’ve got to run.” He pulls his phone out, opens it, and goes to the contacts section, “Here, give me your number so I can contact you. Not sure how available I’ll be during the event or afterwards.” I quickly enter my name and number. I then take the liberty of sending a text to my phone. As my phone chirps, I open it and add Finn to my contacts list. He smiles and says, “Done and done. Ok Bellhop, I’ll be seeing you later.” He gives me a wink and takes his tray to the trash can. As he walks into the lobby, I see a younger kid come in the front doors. Finn sees him and approaches him. They bro-hug like old buddies, then head to the elevators. I clean up the table, walk to the lobby and say good-bye to Jimmy, then head out. As I drive home, I see the roads have been cleared and there are not too many people out and about. It takes me about 20 minutes to get home. I take a proper shower and throw on some comfortable sweats. I toss a load of laundry in the washer, then pull the Dyson vacuum out. I think Finn would be shocked that I was not lying about the list of stuff I have to do. After I finish vacuuming, I sit on the sofa and open my computer. I want to scratch an itch I have about Finn. I pull up Rentmen, then click the link for Rentmasseur. I scroll thru the listings for the area and there he is. Finn O’Daniel, or as he calls himself on Rentmasseur, ‘Irish muscles’. His listing indicates he’ll be in Sayre for the weekend, which confirms why we had some drop-ins last night and the kid this morning. I review his profile and his write-up. It matches what he told me. I take a look at his 4 pics. No nudes, go figure. But, two of them show him in a white wife-beater, which clings to every muscle and crevice on his hirsute upper body, and black nylon mesh gym shorts, which show off his hairy tree trunk legs, and leave very little to the imagination as to what is under them. He’s semi-hard in three photos. In one photo he’s let his hair down. His wavy mouse brown hair extends below his shoulders. Another photo shows him standing over a massage table, flexing his left arm. I start to stiffen and involuntarily lick my lips. I go back to his personal info and see his age is 30, his height is 6’3” and weight is listed as 285-lbs. This may be out of date, but he is larger than I originally guessed. He lists his sexual orientation as bi-sexual, which means absolutely nothing. Until you get in a room with someone and get down to it, that info is just for show. He has a number of reviews, mostly 5 stars, and the write-ups all praise his technique and maturity. His price per hour seems reasonable. His write-up says he has 8 years’ experience and is a qualified masseuse. I wonder if he took the same classes I did. I took 4 years of classes, worked in a salon for a while, then decided to go out on my own. The extra income is nice and I can tailor my schedule around the job at the hotel. I hear the washer ding and realize I’ve been on the site a bit too long. I also note I’ve sprouted a woody from looking at his pics. He is a good-looking man. I jump off the computer and continue to clean around the house. I toss the shirts in the dryer for a few minutes, get out the ironing board, then iron them. It may seem old-fashioned to manually iron shirts when they are cleaners who will do it for you, but I enjoy it and it allows me to watch a movie or a couple episodes of shows I’m watching. Two hours later, the shirts are done, I also pressed some work pants and a few of my jackets. I finish dusting the house, check to make sure I’m set for food for the next few days, and finally sit for a minute to relax. I check my phone and see it’s 3:30. The wrestling event starts at 5. I change into a pair of worn Lee jeans, a pair of size 9 ½ black Asics sneakers, a black mesh t-shirt, then a grey sweatshirt. Grab the phone, wallet, and keys, and out the door. The drive back to Sayre is uneventful. I stop by Bluestone and grab an appetizer and a quick 16 oz For the Record NEIPA (New England IPA). The bar is crowded with families intending to attend the event. I make the quick 2 ½ mile trip to the middle school in 10 minutes. Parking is easy. I see a number of vehicles are already there. I show my ticket at the door, they hand me a program, and let me know I have a ring side reserved seat. I’m astonished, but not upset. I wander thru the school to the gym. The lights are still up and people are milling around. I decide to make a quick trip to the men’s room before settling in. I wander down the hallway and see a roped off area with a large tarp covering the rest of the hallway. It must be the wrestler’s area. I head into the men’s room and as I’m walking in, I run into Finn as he’s exiting. He’s looking the other way, so I quickly put my hand up to keep him from bowling me over. It lands flat on his chest. It feels like a brick wall, but is enough to get his attention. He quickly turns and see me. He jokingly says, “Yo, Bellhop, you made it, nice.” “Hey bush league, yeah, just got here. Thanks again for the ticket. I see it’s for reserved front row seating. Very nice. Is this so I can massage your back as you’re lying on the floor from being tossed out of the ring?” I wink at him and he catches my heavy dose of sarcasm. As we talk, I see he’s in an oversized green T-shirt which has a shamrock on the front. He’s in black mesh shorts and wrestler’s shoes. His hair is still in a bun. He leans over and pulls me into a bro-hug and slaps my back a few times. “Yeah, yeah…we’ll see about that.” We chat for another minute then he excuses himself. “I need to get back to the staging area.” We shake and he smiles and with an honest tone says, “I hope you have a fun time, Sammy, and I’m glad you came.” We bro-hug again and he leaves. I do my business and as I’m washing up, I look in the mirror and think, ‘He’s a nice guy. Better than my last boyfriend, Jon.’ I shake my head realizing Finn is being nice because I was nice to him last night and this morning. He’s got an outgoing personality and is probably this casual and comfortable with everyone. I make my way back to my seat wait for the show to start.

Hey this is my first attempt Please note this story contains snuff and if you are offended or it is not for you please do not read! Intro The evening sky was painted in hues of deep orange and purple as Troy left the gym, his muscles pumped and glistening with a faint sheen of sweat. Every step he took showcased the power and grace of his massive physique. He was dressed in a tight black tank top that clung to his chest and shoulders, tight like a second skin, highlighting the deep cuts and striations of his pectorals and traps. His arms, thick as tree trunks, were a spectacle of bulging veins and pronounced muscle fibres, leaving no doubt about the strength they held. Troy’s tank top, soaked with sweat, clung to his torso, revealing the chiseled perfection of his eight-pack abs, each muscle sharply defined from hours of intense training. His shorts were equally revealing, hugging his powerful quads and hamstrings, which rippled with every movement. The tight fabric did nothing to hide the sheer size and strength of his legs, which seemed capable of crushing anything that dared to challenge them. His presence was commanding, almost overwhelming. Troy's towering height and broad shoulders cast a long shadow in the dimming light, and his entire demeanor exuded an air of supreme confidence and dominance. People in the parking lot couldn’t help but steal glances, their gazes filled with a mix of admiration and intimidation. The powerful growl of his motorcycle echoed through the parking lot as he swung his leg over, straddling the beast with practiced ease. The leather seat seemed almost too small for his expansive frame, but he fit perfectly, a titan in complete control. The engine roared to life, the sound a deep, resonant growl that matched Troy’s own intensity. He revved the throttle, feeling the familiar surge of adrenaline as the machine responded to his command. As he sped off into the fading light, the cool evening air brushed against his skin, mixing with the lingering warmth of his post-workout pump. Every muscle in his body thrummed with energy, the blood coursing through his veins amplifying the feeling of invincibility. Troy was a living embodiment of power and discipline, a force of nature on two wheels, leaving an indelible impression on anyone who witnessed his departure. The wind whipped past him, and for a moment, Troy revelled in the freedom, the raw power between his legs matching the strength within him. The city streets blurred as he navigated with precision, his mind still lingering on the intense workout he had just conquered. Every muscle in his body thrummed with energy, and he felt unstoppable. Approaching a red light, he slowed down to 5mph drifting closer, not wanting to stop, as the light turned green with a snap troy was doing 50mph speeding through the traffic lights. Flashing red and blue lights cut through the twilight, snapping him back to reality. A police cruiser pulled up behind him, sirens wailing, signaling him to pull over. Troy smirked to himself, feeling a thrill run through his veins. He eased his bike to the side of the road, the engine rumbling softly as he came to a stop. The officer approached with a stride that tried to convey confidence, attempting to assert his authority in the dimly lit street. But as he neared the figure seated on the motorcycle, illuminated by the stark glow of the cruiser’s headlights, his steps faltered. Troy, whose massive back commanded immediate attention. Even beneath the tight confines of a black tank top, each muscle group was distinct, the fabric stretching taut across his broad lats that flared out like the wings of a powerful bird. The olive tone of his skin contrasted sharply against the black material, emphasizing the expansive width and the dense, sculpted valleys of muscle. The tank top itself seemed to battle to contain him, particularly around the lats, which stretched the fabric to its limits. The spaghetti straps of the tank clung precariously over his mountainous traps, which merged almost seamlessly into his neck, creating a formidable column of muscle that made his head seem like a natural extension of his upper body. His delts were so rounded and pronounced that they resembled perfectly inflated balloons, straining under his skin with every slight movement he made. The officer had encountered muscular individuals before, but Troy’s sheer size and the sculptural quality of his back were unlike anything he had ever seen. This wasn't just muscle, this was a fucking Beast. troy raised the visor of his helmet and watched the cop in the bikes mirrors. As the cop started to approach again, His hands trembled slightly, and his eyes flickered with uncertainty as they traced the contours of a true tank of muscle seated on the bike. With every step closer, the officer's confidence seemed to waver, increasingly intimidated by Troy’s towering and formidable stature. “License and registration,” the cop demanded, his voice firm but lacking the confidence to back it up. There was a crack in his tone, betraying the fear bubbling beneath his professional facade. Glancing at the officer’s name badge. The surname was unmistakable—Harrington. A cruel smile spread across Troy’s face as he remembered Pete Harrington, one of his high school tormentors, looking at the cops face, Troy knew it was the same guy. Recognizing the opportunity for some long-awaited payback, Troy decided this encounter was going to be a lot more fun than he initially thought. Troy pulled off his helmet slowly, letting his piercing gaze lock onto the officer's eyes. His sharp blue eyes bore into the cop’s soul, reducing him to a quivering mess with just a look. his silence and the intensity of his stare doing more to communicate than any words could. The cop shifted uncomfortably under Troy’s scrutiny, a bead of sweat forming at his temple and slowly trickling down his cheek. Troy reveled in the sight before him, the cop, once so determined to assert his authority, was now reduced to a quivering mess. The officer’s trembling hands and sweat-dappled forehead were a testament to the intimidating mass Troy wielded effortlessly. He felt a surge of excitement, a primal thrill coursing through him as he watched the cop struggle to maintain composure. Troy knew his sheer size, his rippling muscles, and the intimidating tattoos snaking out his tank and down his right arm evoked a natural, almost instinctive, submissive response in people. It was a heavy mix of fear and awe, and Troy relished it. He enjoyed the way his presence could dominate a room, the way people instinctively shrank back, their eyes widening as they took in his formidable frame. The cop’s reaction was just another confirmation of his undeniable dominance, and Troy couldn’t help but feel a deep, almost visceral satisfaction in that moment. “D…D…Do you know how fast you were going?” the officer stammered, his voice faltering as he tried to regain control of the situation. Each word seemed to cost him more effort as he stared up at Troy, who dwarfed him by a significant margin, even still sitting on his bike Troy’s lips curled into a half-smile, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and disdain. “ Fast enough that you needed to play catch-up,” Troy replied, his deep voice laced with mocking disdain.. The officer bristled, standing a little straighter, trying to assert his authority. “You need to slow down. This isn’t a race track. I’m going to have to write you a ticket.” Troy's smirk widened as he dismounted his bike, his movements slow and deliberate, showcasing his pumped muscles that strained against his clothing. His feet hit the ground with a solid thud, and he straightened up to his full height, towering over the officer. The cop instinctively took a step back, eyes wide as he took in the sheer size difference between them. Troy at 5’11 but with the mass on his frame made the cop at only 5’9 feel even smaller. Troy advanced a step, his broad chest nearly brushing against the officer's. He could see the panic rising in the cop’s eyes, the young man clearly struggling to maintain his composure. Troy's muscles, still swollen from his intense workout, seemed almost to pulsate with raw power, every sinew and vein clearly defined and on display. “You sure you want to write that ticket?” Troy asked, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down the cop’s spine. He flexed his arm slightly, the muscle bulging impressively, and watched as the cop’s eyes flickered nervously to the massive bicep and then back to Troy’s face. The officer’s hand hovered near his weapon, his fear palpable. He looked like he was considering drawing it, but Troy’s menacing presence made him hesitate. “Don’t even think about it,” Troy warned, his tone icy. “I’d break you in half before you could even touch that gun.” The cop’s hand hovered over his holster, his fingers twitching with indecision. Troy’s warning echoed in his mind, but he tried to muster up the remnants of his authority. "I’m a pppolice officer," he stammered, his voice wavering. "Y…y…you can’t just—" Troy cut him off, his gaze piercing and unyielding. "You think that means anything to me?" he growled. "Badge or no badge, you’re still a weak little bitch. Now, go ahead, reach for that gun, and see what happens. I promise you won’t like the outcome." Troy with out braking his gaze rolled his traps, limbering up, ready, as he dared the cop to give him an excuse to use his power. The cop’s hand dropped to his side, trembling. He was visibly shaking now, his mind racing with the realization that he was completely outmatched. He could feel the heat radiating off Troy’s body, the raw, intimidating energy that seemed to surround him like an aura. Troy leaned in closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over the cop. "You really think that little badge gives you authority?" he sneered, flexing his bicep subtly, making the tattoos ripple across his skin. "Your power comes from a piece of metal pinned to your chest. Mine?" He pounded his fist into his palm, the impact echoing in the quiet night. "Mine comes from muscle, hard work, and the ability to break you without breaking a sweat." “Maybe... maybe we can handle this differently,” the cop stammered, trying to stay on the good side of this imposing figure. “There’s no need for trouble.” troy glared at the cop, eyes locked on each other, his face inches from the officer’s. “Smart move,” he said softly, his breath hot against the cop’s skin. “You don’t want to make things difficult for yourself? ” The officer nodded hastily, too scared to argue. “Y-yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. I don’t want any trouble.” Troy’s smirk widened. “Good choice. Now get back in your cruiser and forget you ever saw me!” Troy ordered staring down the cop. The cop, desperate to regain control, took a step forward and jabbed a finger into Troy’s chest, trying to shove him back. "Back off, now!" he barked, trying to sound authoritative but only succeeding in trembling slightly. Troy’s eyes darkened, a dangerous smile curving his lips. "Big mistake," he said softly. Taking a deep expanding his chest, pushing the cops finger back, the cops eyes widen as he felt the muscle turn from firm dense muscle tissue, into rock hard steel, the cop could feel all the blood drain from his face. Troy reached out and effortlessly lifted the officer by the collar, holding him in the air with one arm. The cop's eyes widened in terror as he watched Troy's arm muscles swell and bulge effortlessly with power. Troy smirked, thinking how light the cop felt, like lifting a sack of potatoes. The cop’s feet dangled helplessly, his eyes wide with fear and awe. He pulled the cop closer like a rag doll, flexing his free arm, show casing how light the cop felt to troy, and kissed the bicep right in the cops face. The cop couldn’t help but ”ohh fuck!” escaping his lips, at the sight of such entitled arrogance, making troy smirk, he pulled the cop in closer holding the small fragile man against his chest before wrapping one arm around him pinning the cops arms, as he held the cop against him, he whispered in the cops ear “next time you pull me over….it better be to suck my cock!” his massive bicep pressing against the officer's chest. He could feel the man's heart pounding wildly, his shallow breaths coming in rapid gasps. Troy's muscles, still pumped from his intense workout, felt like iron bands against the cop's much smaller, weaker frame. Holding the helpless officer close, Troy felt a pure power course through him. The contrast between his own immense strength and the cop's frailty was intoxicating. The man's fear was palpable, his body trembling as he struggled in vain against Troy's unyielding grip. It was exhilarating to feel such complete control, to know that this weaker man was utterly at his mercy. The cop's helplessness only amplified Troy's sense of superiority, feeding his vanity and aggression. as troy slowly flexed, wielding his power, he applied pressure to the officers chest, making it harder for the cop to breath, squeezing the cop, each time the cop breathed out a little, he struggled to fill any air back into his lungs, helpless to stop his assailant squeezing the air out of him. and then without warning, troy flexed his back swelling up like the head of a cobra, and wrapping round the cop like a compressor crushing on a car, Troy heard the sound of two ribs snapping under the power of his forearm. the cop cried out in pain, as the pressure on his chest was too much and his ribs gave out under the power of pure brutal strength. He could feel troys muscles against his own body, having never felt anything like it, troy felt like steel, and wielding a strength to match. Troy then threw the cop against the hood of his cruiser, tossed several feet like yesterdays rubbish, the agony of his ribs amplified from the impact, as he dropped to the floor trying to hold his ribs protect them, he could see the shadowy silloette of Troy looking down on him , the darkness only enhancing the fear and dread the cop could feel. Then troy turned and mounted his bike, and out into the night

Part 1 Jesus Christ. What a long fucking day. Sean tossed his satchel over his shoulder as he left work. 8 clients back to back, each more taxing them the last. The weight of his full satchel a burden on his thin shoulders. Sean walked down the stairs to his office, out of breath from the exertion; and then he climbed into his car. Say what you want about Sean, but his job provided him with plenty of disposable income. He climbed into his new luxury car, starting up easy, and rolling out of the parking garage smooth as ice. For only being 27, Sean had made a comfortable life for himself. His parents had never really been huge influences on his life, and he had made his own way since he was 15. Getting his first salary job after college, climbing the ladder, and slowly gaining his independence from his family has been everything he’d ever wanted. Sean pulled out of the parking garage, his wheels hitting smooth pavement as he drove out of the city. Sean listened to public radio on his drive home, relaxing into his average every day afternoon commute. It was when Sean got home that he stripped his mask and dove into his true personality. Stripping off his suit and tie, his long socks and business loafers, Sean settled into the couch in only his underwear. He opened a gay chat app and began to message the men back. Each of of them a burly daddy type, thick hair, thicker muscles, and a love for skinny younger guys. Sean fit that bill perfectly, at 27 he had barely grown since he started college. 5’8” and 130lbs he was a small man, but he was hot none the less. Bud strong jaw line, defined abs, and model status face sealed the deal for him more often than not. One thing about Sean though. He was more of a tease and flirt. He preferred to play the field, work these men up to a fevered pitch, and then cut them off; leaving them horny and wanting more, sending messages, pictures, and videos frivolously vying for his attention. Sean loved the attention he received from these men, but there was really only one daddy he truly craved connection with. When he was 17 and came out to his parents, a decade ago, his dad had shut him out. Physically, emotionally, mentally. Sean felt his last few years in his home he was a stranger living in a foreign hostile. Sean’s dad, Clint, had always been a man’s man, he worked a blue collar job, worked out when he could, drove a pick-up truck. Sean never expected him to accept him, but he also never expected what came next. As he scrolled through his app, teasing the older men, his dad texted him. Odd. *Hey Sean. I know it’s been a while but I’d really like it if you could give me a call when you’re available.” A wave of nausea and worry washed over Sean, his dad NEVER reached out to him. Something extraordinary must have happened. Sean was all at once needing to call his dad to settle his curiosity, and too intimidated and stunned to actually make the call. Sean went to shower, an ice cold shower always helped him calm down and think clearly. He undressed, his lean nearly hairless body reflecting in the mirror. Sean’s body may not have been too athletic, but his face told a different story. A strong, even jawline set his face, accentuated by his high cheekbones and well proportioned nose. His dark green eyes the color of an evergreen tree in late winter. His brown hair tossed and falling evenly, with a bit of curl. Sean knew he was a stunner, he had been approached many times to model for different projects around his small town. Sean got out of the shower, dried off, and sat on the edge of his bed. He fumbled around with his phone, still wet and cold, but he could only focus on the phone call with his dad he knew he needed to make. He slowly dialed the number, and pressed call. The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. Four. Five. Voicemail. “Hi dad, it’s Sean. I was calling in response to your text. Call me when you can.” No sooner than he’d hung up, his dad called back. “Hello, Sean.” “Hi dad.” “How are you doing?” “I’m okay. Dad is everything alright?” “Not really, son. Your mom. She. She.” Sean could hear his dad tearing up over the call. “It’s okay dad. Tell me what happened.” “She left me.” Sean heard she sobs for a moment. He let his dad cry. “I’m so sorry dad. I hope you’re okay.” Still keeping himself distant from his dad. “No. It’s okay Sean. I’m not upset she left. In fact I’m happy. I wanted to see if you’d come over for dinner. There’s some thing I want to talk about. But I want to do it face to face.” “Uh. I. Uhhh. Sure dad. When?” “As soon as you can. Tomorrow is Friday night, does that work for you?” Sean took pause. That was so soon. But his dad clearly needed this. “Sure dad. Send me your address and what time you’d like me to come. Should I bring anything.” “No son. Just bring yourself, that’s enough. I’ll text you my address and time when we get off the phone.” “Alright. See you tomorrow dad.” “See you tomorrow. I love you, Sean.” Then the call ended. Sean couldn’t remember a single time his dad had ever told him that he loved him. “8175 Wabash Ln. come over at 5pm.” Sean’s mind rushed through all the possibilities for what his dad could want to talk to him about. He couldn’t believe his mom had left his dad, as distant as the two of them had always been with him, they always seemed so in love. What could have happened? These thoughts swirled in Sean’s mind until he drifted asleep. Waking up the next morning he checked his phone to see if his dad had said anything else, nothing. He quickly got ready for work and tried to get himself back into his comfortable routine; but it didn’t matter, every other thought in his mind was occupied by what could be happening with his dad. What this dinner was going to be like. Why did it have to be so sudden? The day crept on, the uneasy feeling of anxiety ebbed and waned inside Sean, knotting his stomach. Thankfully today was Friday and that meant less clients. He got off at 4:30, just enough time to make it to his dad’s on time. Sean pulled up to his dad’s house. He guessed mom got their family home, and now his dad was staying in a small one bedroom home. It was a nice house, deep red bricks, a large porch on the front, a beautifully manicured front lawn, a garage off to the side. It had a very cozy feeling to it. Something about the little home made Sean feel at easy for a moment. He stepped onto the porch and knocked on the deep hardwood door, freshly painted a bright white to match the porch railing. Sean heard motion inside, the door opened, and his feeling of ease dissipated. In the doorway was a man who vaguely resembled Sean’s dad. His face was even different. Kinder somehow, maybe it was the big smile he wore, or the tear in his eye, but Clint looked…welcoming. Sean noticed at once that his dad seemed much larger than he remembered him. It had been almost ten years since they’d met in person, and it appeared his dad had started to take his workout routines more seriously. He’d also seemed to be taking better care of himself, his once round gut was now gone, all of the mass seemed to have shifted upwards and it now spilled into his chest and arms. Clint was taller too, or so Sean thought. When his dad opened the door he was staring directly at the bottom of his dad’s chest. “Sean!” Clint said, almost in an exacerbated sigh, a release of tension audible in his tone. He stepped forward and pulled Sean into a hug. Sean’s face sank in between his dad’s pecs, he noticed how far he seemed to sink, emphasizing the size of the barreled chest. The large arms around him hard as stone. The force of the hug lifted him off the ground a bit so that Sean was on his tippy toes. He reached around his dad and ground that he almost couldn’t reach completely around the wide lats and thick chest. He inhaled deeply, the scent of his dad’s cologne, the slight sweaty musk between his pecs, the smell of a fresh shower. Sean squeezed, and he felt his dad’s much larger body pull him in even tighter. Clint then released Sean, lowering him back to the ground, “please come in.” As he stepped out of the way, Sean walked into the house. “Dad, this is a very nice little home.” “Thanks son. I’ve tried. When I,” he paused seeming to hold back tears, “when I had to move here this was all I could afford and it needed some work. But some fresh brick, paint, floors, and some hard work on the front lawn has really brought it together.” “Wow. So you redid this whole place, did you hire someone?” “Hire someone?” Clint seemed genuinely confused. “No. I did it myself. I needed a project to sink my mind into and this remodel was just what I needed.” “You seem well dad.” “Come on Sean. Sit at the table. I have dinner ready, we can talk more there. I’m sure you’re wondering why I insisted we meet so soon.” He was right. Sean was whirling with possibilities as to why this was all happening. Above all, he felt an odd displacement in his mind, where the negative feelings he’d always harbored towards his father had suddenly softened. He was unsure if it was the way he spoke now, the affection he showed, or the simple fact that he now looked like the dream version of a man Sean would flirt with and tease. He knew the latter couldn’t possibly be it. Sean at at the table. A small dining set, four wooden chairs and a sturdy table, all the same dark mahogany wood. The grain had been sanded and treated. Everything in the home looked like it had been handled with such care. Clint rounded the corner, carrying a large pot in one arm and a large plate in the other. “I’m sorry it’s not much. As much as I’ve focused on building myself back up, cooking isn’t something I’ve mastered yet, but I remembered you liked beef stew, so I made that, and some homemade rolls. Although. The rolls didn’t come out as nice as I’d planned.” As Clint sat the food on the table, Sean appreciated the gesture. “I still love beef stew dad. I can’t believe you remembered. And don’t apologize, if it tastes as good as it smells I think we’ll be fine.” Clint even fixed Sean his plate, portioning out the meat, veggies, and selecting what he must have considered the most ideal roll in the bunch. “Here!” He said enthusiastically, handing the plate to Sean. “Thanks dad.” Sean gave his dad a quick glance and a warm smile. If his dad was going to put in so much work to be present, Sean figured he could try equally to make his dad feel like his efforts were valid. The two ate in silence for a while. Sean unsure of what to say, and Clint apparently too afraid to say what he needed to. Sean took the first leap, “Dad, what’s this all about?” Clint paused eating, and slowly sat down his fork. He seemed to be mentally gathering his composure, using one hand to smooth his shirt, which had bunched up underneath his heavy pecs, and the other to wipe sweat from his brow. Sean noticed his dad’s large dark nipples were visible through the thinly stretched shirt fabric, and when he raised his arm to wipe the sweat from below his well maintained brown hair, he heard a seam pop in the shirt as it stretched over his shoulder. “This is a hard story to tell. But I owe it to you. Just let me get through as much as I can and then we can discuss, okay?” “Sure, dad.” “So. Shortly after you moved out, I became unhappy. Not with your mom or anything specific, but life in general. I was getting old and fat, I was tired all the time, I was angry, I hated my job and everything in life seemed like a chore.” Clint swallowed hard, forcing down emotion as he got to the heart of the issue. “After a while I went to see a therapist, your mom didn’t know because I didn’t want her to think she was the problem. Through talking with the therapist we discovered a few things. The first being that I was depressed. The second was that I probably had low testosterone. Those two thing combined accounted for most of my symptoms. The therapist encouraged me to workout, saying that it would not only help with depression, but when I started receiving testosterone injections that it would help to moderate my energy levels and mood more.” He took a slight pause, a big deep breath, his chest expanding and pulling the buttons on his shirt almost to their breaking point. “The last thing we talked about was your mom. She was emotionally and mentally abusive and I had fallen into a dark place. When we would talk about you I had two different thoughts, how I really felt, and how I felt because that’s how your mother insisted that I feel. Years and years of her demanding I follow in her ideological footsteps let me to being a hateful scornful person, and it wasn’t who I really was. I withdrew from you because it was either that or face the abuse from your mom.” Clint paused again. The next words hung in his throat like a Vice was locked preventing them from escaping. “Son. I never cared you were gay. I knew it well before you came out. Your mother was blindsided and she couldn’t see past it. She would talk when we were alone and say the most vile things, I would agree, craving her approval, but at the same time I knew it was hurting you and that’s the last thing I wanted. So. That lead your mom and I to an impass. One morning I insisted we invite you over and make amends, I told her I couldn’t do it any longer. I called her on her abuse and told her it was time to change the dynamic. She argued, but I had practiced in therapy remaining steady and keeping to my values. I guess once she realized she couldn’t control me any more she left. It devastated me at first, because I craved her affection so much. But. These last few years I’ve come to realize that I could repair our relationship. I realized that the bond we could share as father and son could help me to heal. So. After years and years of struggling and fighting and working on myself I finally decided it was time. I’ve done a lot of work inside myself to prepare to be a good father, and I understand that it may be hard to accept. But I love you, and I want you to know the truth and the reason why everything happened.” Sean sat. Stunned. He wanted to laugh and cry and run and disappear all in the same moment. His body was frozen in time. Clint studied him, watching for any reaction. Sean was stoic, completely unsure for the first time in a while of what to do next. Clint stood, rising to his full height, and walked over to Sean. With Sean sitting and Clint standing, Sean noticed he was at crotch level with his dad. Not wanting to seem like he was staring, he quickly stood as well, and the two hugged. They both teared up, holding on, waiting for the other to relent, but neither did for a while. Finally. Sean initiated the released stepping back, his dad releasing him from the hug. “Thank you.” Was all he could manage for the time being. Clint returned to his seat, and so did Sean. They resumed eating. The air between them seemed to clear, the tension releasing like a bungee cord just unhooked. Time seemed to return to normal. Then Clint spoke. “So. Do you think we can ever repair our relationship?” Sean nodded, “I do. There’s a lot of time to catch up on, but it sounds like you’ve done most of the work already.” “You’re right. There is a lot of lost time. Tell me about yourself. What was college like, where do you work, how is life. I saw you drive a pretty nice car, I’m proud that you seem to be doing well for yourself. Do you have a boyfriend, I don’t seen a ring so I hope I didn’t miss a wedding?” Sean was gobsmacked. Never in his life did he imagine those words coming from his dad’s mouth. Sean must have been sitting with his mouth agape because Clint continued, “sorry. I know that’s a lot. I’ve just thought about these things for so long.” “No. It’s okay dad. Let’s see. College was fine, I completed by bachelors and masters and the firm I work for now pays me really well. I own a place downtown and I’ve started a small business on the side that will hopefully allow me to quit my job one day and simply manage. You’re right. No husband. No boyfriend either. I’ve never really had a steady partner.” “That surprises me.” Clint said. “What does?” “That you’ve never had a steady partner. You seem so out together, despite how we raised you, and you inherited my good looks, I’d think it would be easy for you to find a man.” What an odd conversation. Sean could hardly believe he was talking about this with his dad. “Well. Maybe I’ll meet someone one day. For now I’m really focusing on myself.” Sean said. “I understand that.” Clint agreed. “What about you dad, do you have anyone special in your life?” “No. Like you I’m working on myself. Between work, the gym, fixing this house, therapy, and working to make myself ready to meet you again, I haven’t had time for anything else.” It really was like Sean was meeting his dad again for the first time. The man he knew growing up was gone, replaced by this much larger, much more caring version of his dad. The two finished their plates, Sean full after one, and Clint eating everything that remained. The big man had an appetite to match. “Would you like to come out back son? I can show you my plans for landscaping, we can have a few beers and just talk.” “That sounds great, dad.” Although Sean wasn’t a fan of beer, this time with his dad was probably worth the taste. They settled into the porch into two separate rocking chairs, Clint sat a cooler of beer between them. “You like these chairs, Sean?” “Yeah dad, they’re sturdy, quiet, really nice actually.” “I made them.” Sean sat forward and examined the chair he was sitting in. It indeed had a similar grain to the table and chairs in the dining room, an even stain across them, and the cushioning was clearly hand sewn and detailed. “Now. I didn’t make the cushions. I got those at a local market. But the chair I did make.” Sean sat back in the chair, running his hand along the smooth wood of the chair. “You’re quite the handyman, dad.” “Well you pick up a thing or two basically rebuilding a home with your bare hands.” At that Clint chuckled, a deep growling laugh that gave Sean flashbacks of his childhood, of happier times with his dad. “So how are you landscaping the backyard?” Sean asked. “Follow me!” Clint said, standing up and walking to the end of the porch. He stood there a moment and Sean wouldn’t help but notice how his dad’s ass stretched the khaki pants he was wearing, the dimples visible through the material. Standing, Sean followed Clint into the yard. Strewn across the yard were various different gardening and lawn care tools. Shovels, hoes, large bags of soil and mulch, stacks of lumber. Clint began to point around the yard, “over there I’m going to start a small vegetable garden. I figure I can fit around 10 tomato plants, a few stalks of corn, some beans and squash around the corn, a row or two of potatoes, and over there I’m going to have a strawberry and blueberry vine.” He swung his arm around, “over there I’m going to create a stone path, and I’m going to build a gazebo; in that corner I’m going to plant a new tree, haven’t decided what kind yet…” he continued to speak but Sean was lost in the moment. Seeing his dad so happy and passionate about something, there was something so…attractive about it. But not in the way that he found his dad attractive. Just the attribute of a person who’s driven. “Well son, what do you think?” “I think it’s going to take a lot of work.” Clint took a long drink of his beer, finishing it off, “yeah. It will. But it’s work I love to do. You’ll have to come back sometime and see it when it’s finished.” Two two walked back to the porch, and relaxed back into the chairs. They talked about anything and everything, Sean drank a few beers and being smaller and not used to alcohol he quickly caught a buzz. Clint, the large man that he was, was putting back bottle after bottle, seeming to loosen up a bit more each time. Suddenly Sean felt dizzy. He was getting drunk. “I think I’d *hiccup* better *hiccup* head home.” Sean slurred. “Absolutely not.” Clint said matter of fact, “you may be a grown man but I’m still your dad. You’re staying here tonight where you’re safe. No drinking and driving, if you did that I’d have to punish you.” Sean heard Clint laugh, but he could of sworn he saw a sly grin on his dad’s face as he said it. “Where and I *hiccup* going to sleep?” Fuck. Sean had to get rid of these hiccups. Annoying as hell. He held his breath. “In my bed.” Clint answered, and Sean exhaled the air quickly. What the fuck. He couldn’t sleep in the same bed as his dad? “I don’t want to sleep in the bed with you dad. I’ll call and Uber.” “You little goober. I’m not sleeping in the bed with you. I’ll sleep on the couch.” Sean felt a sudden relaxation, knowing things would be okay, his eyes felt heavy and he slid into sleep on the porch in the chair. He awoke to feeling weightless. No. Not weightless. He was being carried. Clint had a hold of him, cradling his body against his big thick chest, supporting his weight with his strong arms. Sean was still drunk, and he felt so safe in this moment, he nuzzled his head into Clint’s chest further, swearing he felt a hard nipple under his cheek. Clint lay Sean down in the bed, assuming he was still asleep. In the dark, Sean lay awake with his eyes open. Clint began to undress. The room was dimly lit by the hallway light and the moonlight from the large window. Sean couldn’t make out everything, but he could see enough. As Clint unbuttoned his shirt, his chest seemed to expand, growing once the pressure had released. Sean could see a few hairs on his dad’s chest, the grey ones which shown in the low light. Clint struggled to get the shirt off over his massive shoulders and bulging tricep, he was still drunk too. In his frustration he simply, and quite easily, ripped the shirt down his back and shredded it into pieces, pulling it off his body. Unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, Sean noticed his dad’s bulge. He should close his eyes. He shouldn’t be watching his dad undress. He needed to stop right now. But as he thought this, Clint’s bulge forced its way out of the opening in the pants, sticking out looking like his dad dad shoved a small watermelon in the front of his underwear. The weight of the package inside weighing down the waistband of the boxer briefs. Forcing his pants down over his huge quads Sean saw his muscles ripple and flex as he fought with the tight fabric that wouldn’t let go of the diamond cut quads. Finally. Clint was undressed, in only his underwear. He turned to leave the room, bending over quickly to pick something up off the floor, and Sean could hear the material rip as his large ass stretched the material too far. Clint stopped at the doorway, his wide back taking up more than the width of the doorframe, he turned slightly to fit through the door. As he did, he looked back at Sean and said, “goodnight son.” And he closed the door.

Musclave - a tribute to myoder - by theardes This is a tribute to my favorite author myoder - if you´re still out there, this is for you! The doors of the company settlement opened and I went in. The say that I was nervous would be the understatement of the century. But then everything had been arranged, everything had been paid for and there would be someone very unhappy if I did not show up. There had been rumors at first, then the changed men had started to appear in talkshows. There had been a pill developed which increased muscle mass and strength, with the sideeffect of increasing sexual interest as well. When it had first been discovered there was a little of the scientists DNA mixed into the pill by mistake. His collegue who took the pill, also by "mistake" had developed a unconditional love and obedience towards him. As they found out that seemed to be an essential part of the growing process. They started selling the pill to willing men. At first it was very expensive, but over time it became afordable to us non-milionairs. The government regulated the use, you had to prove that you were able to provide for your muscleman after the process and he had to undergo it willingly. The company started a website to match potential growers with thier would-be-masters. So I met Nathan. He was a blond, blue eyed, 19 year guy out from the midwest. Standing at only 5´4 I could kiss his forehead when I leaned down. He was athletic, but slim, weighting arround 140 ibs since his 16th birthday. His desire to build muscle had driven him into the gym on a regular basis for the last 5 years and his muscles were hard and defined, but he had not been able to put on the mass he desired. We had been found compatible by the profiling of the company and had met two weeks before to see how we´d get along in person. He proved to be a great guy. I was his senior by 15 years and still we immediately clicked and talked for hours on hours. I had done well for myself in the last years and it brought me joy to invite Nathan to two more dinners. I really thought I had found a soulmate. As I approached the front desk I was greeted by an young woman working for the company. She explained to me that Nathan and I were to stay here overnight, a room had been provided. He would take the pill here and, because the company considered it to be safe, he would not have to be monitored through the process. Still there was a chance for everything, so if we needed anything we´d just have to push a button. Then she guided me to the room. Before I entered the gave me the pill. I had given a blood sample before and this pill was specialy made for Nathan. As I went in I saw a big hotel-like room. It had a bathroom with a huge shower, a small kitchen with all kinds of food and a huge bed. Next to the bed was a workout station with heavy weights and a bench. The tv was running and Nathan sat on the bed. He wore a white poloshirt and blue sweat pants. His hair had a crew cut. As he heard me coming he turned it off, stood up and ran towards me, kissing and hugging me. "I´ve waited for an eternity!" I looked at my watch, he could not have been here longer than half an hour. He spottet the plastic vial with the pill inside it. "Is that...?" he asked. I kissed him back and told him yes. I felt him shaking a little. Everything was about to change. "You know it is okay if you don´t want to go through with this." I told him as I sat on the bed. He sat next to me and put his hand in mine. "I´ve long thought about this. I´ve told my family and my friends so they would not freak out. To tell the truth I´m terrified, this will change everything. As long as I can remember I always wanted to be big." He flexed his arm and his small, hard biceps sprang up. I touched it. "I´ve only known you a small time and yet I really trust you. I think it will be wounderfull." I kissed him. "I think so too Nathan. The modifikations at my house are done, you will fit into it now." He grinned. "I still can´t imagine how it will be." I pulled out the vial and rattled it. "Only one way to find out." I popped the top and handed Nathan the pill. "They call them enhancers, reacting in the brain and stimulating the center that gives us muscle power and energy. More bulk that I had ever dreamed off..." I handed him a glass of water and hugged him. "See you on the other side." His face turned stern and he popped the pill into his mouth and swilled it back with the water. Then we waited. It always took a minute or so work we had been told. "I feel warm." Nathan said. Er stood up and streched his arms. "A little weird, but - ompf - incredible." I stood up and put my hands arround his right upper arm. I could feel the muscle growing. He looked at me and grinned, than he flexed his biceps. It was clearly bigger, and getting bigger as well. His polo shirt started to ride up his abs. He had washboard abs before, but know they were getting bigger as well, growing and the cuts deepening. I helped him to get out of the polo shirt as it began to become painfully tight arround his arms and chest. A cracking sound from his back had me worried for a second, then I noticed I was looking him into the eye, he was getting taller. His chest began to fill out, as I put my hands on his pecs they soon began to be pushed outwards. He took me in his arms and I could feel his back getting broader as well as his pecs pushig against me. All the while he grew in height. "Thank you." he growled, his voice becoming deeper as his ripcage expanded. His legs began to expand the fabric of the sweat pants. Before they could tear he pulled them down and stepped out of them. I went on my knees and put my hands on the growing collums of his quads. He sighed and growled as my touch gave him pleasure. The pill was working at full speed now. His skin started to get a healthy glow, a slight tan as his hair began to grow as well. My hands cupped his calves which began to put on a grotesk ammount of mass. I looked up at the towering muscle giant above me. "I think Nathan is no more" I quietly said "you look more like a Nate to me." He looked down at me. "Yes master. I am Nate, your muscle slave." He began to hit poses to show me his body, changing the poses based on my reaction to them. He really wanted to impress me and give me pleasure. I had to sit back on the bed as I began to feel light headed with this HULK showing off in front of me. His briefs looked painfully stuffed with the enhanced cock and as he tried to pull them off, they ripped and his cock sprang free and hit him on the abs. A small drop of precum was visible as he rolled his pecs which had grown a slight coating of golden fur on them. I was sure he was not able to see the base of his cock over his giant pecs. "Fuck! Look at me!" he said, flexing his swollen biceps which popped up to the size of a bowling ball. "These guns have to be the biggest on the planet" Feel them Master! Please feel them. You made me so fucking huge - I love it!" He bend down and I felt the massive arms as he flexed his biceps over and over. A biceps the size of a bowling ball hardened under my hand. I moaned and put my lips to it, kissing the muscle, then licking the fingerthick vein on it. "Yes master, worship my muscles. You made me so huge. I love it!" He smiled at me. The look in his blue eyes reminded me of the dog I had when I was a child and was about to give him a treat. "Master..." I felt a little light headed. My hands moved to his gigantic pecs and he flexed them for me. I felt the flesh harden under my hands. "You like that master?" I licked the muscles on his chest. "I want to flex these big muscles all night for you. I have to see how strong I am now. My I?" I looked confused for a moment but nodded. His face lit up like a christmas tree and he basicaly jumped over to the weights. I stood up and followed. As he began to curl the heavy dumbells I estimated his height to be arround 6`11. He let out small sounds of joy as he continued to put down the weights, moving to the heavier ones and pumping out curls in perfect technique. With a dumbell the size I usually see the big guys at my gym doing bench press with he turned tome. His biceps were now swollen with blood, the veins on them as big als fingers. "Fuck yeah!" he shouted. "You like this, master? This turns you on? Fuck!" he licked his lips "You´re turning me on master - watch my muscle!" My cock was rock hard. "Get naked for me! Please!" he begged while still curling the massive weight. "I have to see you naked! I need to be fucking powerful for you!" He put on of the dumbells down as I started to undress. I took of my clothes slowly, watching him squirm with lust. When I came to my briefs he had started to bend the dumbell back and froth with excitement. "Show me your ass, master? Please! I need to see your ass!" I showed him and he groaned, his cock jumping a little. "Fuck! Fucking! Hot! Ass! I need it. I need my masters pussy arround my huge cock!" Nathan truly was no more. Massive Nate looked down at me, his eyes were wide with lust. "I need to fuck you master, I need to be inside you!" His eyes were pleading. "Let me be fucking powerfull for you!" I had an idea. "Nate, your muscle cock is huge, show me how powerful it is!" "Yes master", he said. Looking arround he took a big plate of 50 ibs and put his cock through the hole. It didn`t budge. He added more plates. When he added three times my bodyweight his cock was pulled down a little, then he started flexing it and it stood. His face showd no sign of strain. "You like this, master? My big muscle cock lifting this fucking weight! That turns you on?" I gasped. His cock bobbed up and down like there was only a small towel on it. He had his hands on his hips and kept pumping the weight with his massive muscle cock and I just about came watching this. Then he slipped the weight of his dick and came to me. I looked up, past the barrels of pecs to the beautiful face of my muscle slave. He leaned down and pressed his lips against mine. Feeling me opening my mouth his powerful tongue pushed into my mouth, exploring it gently. While kissing me he picked my up and carried me to the bed, carefully putting me on it. "Master, I need to make love to your beautiful body!" He gave me a passionate kiss and moved down, kissing and licking my body. I felt his huge arms and wide shoulders, ran my hands through his gold mane as his mouth send chills through my body. He gave me the puppy eyes look again and took my hard cock into his mouth, sucking me gently, then harder. He lifted my legs and looked at me for a sign of approval. I nodded once and he dove down and his tongue found my ass. I moaned as he tongue fucked my ass. The he sat up and draped my legs over his. He took a bit of lube from he nightstand and lubed up his cock. His huge fingers, easily as big as the biggest cock I had taken before, played with my hole. When he touched my prostate I tensed up, but he stopped before I came. "Oh yeah! Master - you like my big fingers playing with your hole? Getting you ready for my big cock!" I nodded again and he shifted his body, pressing his cock head gently against my asshole and the he kissed my deeply and increased the pressure. I held onto his wide lats as he entered me. The feeling was incredible. It did not hurt at all, I felt complete. He really knew how to use his massive muscle cock. His eyes were closed, his face showing the pleasure he was feeling. "Yes, fucking my masters ass. Fucking incredible. I´m going to make you feel really good master!" He continued to fuck me slowly, then he sat back and flexed his cock in my ass. I felt the head deep inside me pushing against my abs as his cock lifted me of the bed. When I made contact with his huge pecs, my cock pressing against his abs he took me in his arms and kissed me deeply. Putting me back down the fucking became faster. My hands held onto his forearms, bigger then my own legs as I looked at all that huge mountain of man - the power radiating from Nates body, hard as rock, a slight coating of sweat. He flexed his cock over and over, lifting me of the bed each time and stimulating my prostate like I had never experienced. I reached up and felt his thick traps and gigantic biceps. "It´s all for you master!" His face looked strained, he was getting close. "I´m your fucking slave! Gonna fill you up!" I felt his cock swell a little bigger and then he moaned as I felt him cumming inside me. He pressed his mouth on mine, still moaning and cumming in hot waves deep inside me. My own cum flew onto his shelf like pecs and drippled down over his abs. I had not touched my cock and it spewed for half a minute. He kissed me again and we lay there, his huge hulking mass keeping me safe. We took a shower afterwards, but I was too exhausted to worship him, so after getting clean (and groping a little) we dried ourselves and went back into the bed. I curled up against hin, he put his huge arms and one tree like leg arround me, pulled me to his broad chest and kissed my head. Stroking the slight coating of hair in his forearm I fell asleep. When I awoke I was alone. My clothes had been packed and my luggage was waiting beside the door of the room. The woman from the front desk knocked on the door and told me it was time to check out. I dressed, a little confused where Nate had gone and went back to the entrance. He was waiting for me there. His golden hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He wore a white polo shirt that streched over his gigantic muscles, the blue jeans straining to contain his huge quads and calves. I wondered how he managed to stuff his cock into the jeans. His biceps bulged and he flashed me a heartwarming smile as he openend the door for me, picked up my luggage and followed me out of the building.

[1] Today was like any other day. I had a long day at work, my boss was a jerk, and couldn’t get to the gym like I wanted to at my normal time. But it was Friday and the gym is a 24hr place so going late at night isn’t a bad option. Especially since it will be empty and will allow for me to focus. I’ve been trying to be more consistent with my routine, which is why this change in schedule sucks. I had my meal plan down, my routine, and supplements. I should mention that I’ve decided to really take this workout thing seriously. I’m not looking to compete, I’m just working on trying to be a massive musclebound beast. Haven’t tried roids yet because I wanted to get as big as I could without them first then add em for a boost. But I did go ahead and order some just to have them at the ready. Been at it for a bit and am starting to see some gains which is encouraging but I know I have a long way to go to get the look that I really want. Clothing is starting to feel more snug and some people are starting to notice. The compliments from coworkers have been rolling in, and it's nice to know that my hard work is being noticed. But I’m looking forward to the day where I just look obscene in anything but people are too intimidated by my size to say anything to me about it. That thought alone motivates me for my evening workout. I took my pre-workout, protein shake, and creatine before my evening session. Friday's are dedicated to heavy chest workouts, and I want to head into the weekend with a full, proud chest. Since it's a bit later in the evening I will hit em for a few hours to get an extreme pump. I put my workout compression clothes on and made my way to the gym. Swiping in and looking around, the place is basically empty. Fine by me, I walked by the mirror and took note of my reflection and I do look a bit more lean. Which is fine for now, but bulk and mass is what I’m aiming for but nonetheless I bounced my pecs a bit and began my workout. Flat bench, incline, flyes, the whole nine. I must have been really focused on what I was doing with my headphones on. I didn’t notice when the answer to my wants and desires strolled in and went upstairs to the cardio area. I only noticed him when I was walking to the next station. Shirtless on the stairmaster glistening in sweat with obscenely massive pecs. They looked like they were hitting the towel he placed over the buttons on the machine. Now everything else about him looked huge from afar but those pecs were what I zeroed in on since that was my focus for the evening. He looked up and caught my eye. I did what most people do in those situations and looked away real quick and moved on to the next station. But the image of him on that stairmaster with his pecs bouncing like they did, was seared in my mind and I thought to myself that is the type of chest I want. I was deeply focused on my working sets on the chest fly machine focused on the negative to get that deep stretch and pump. I was about to adjust the weight for my next set, when I just so happened to look towards the cardio area and the big guy was gone. I shrugged and turned back to make the adjustments. “ HOLY SHIT!” I exclaimed. For someone to be as big as this guy, he was either very light on his feet or these noise canceling headphones are just golden at what they do. Which I’m going to go for the latter and say it’s the headphones. Either way, this massive beast of a man was damn near three times my size in width. Now granted I’m 6ft tall but damn this guy was at least 6’4 but before I could really take in all of him he spoke. “I haven’t seen you around before shorty, but by the look of things you like what you see in front of you don’t you?” the beast asked. All I could do was nod. In the back of my mind, I hated the fact that he called me shorty but I for damn sure am not going to challenge this guy. He smiled and said, “I figured, the name is Zell, and I’m willing to bet you want to have big pecs like these right?” Again I nodded to Zell’s insinuation. “Well let’s work these babies out and I can show you what a real pump looks like.”

Dear readers After I got a lot of messages to send the story 'Classroom muscle tease' (again) and to put it back online, I decided to make a new account and put it back on here. I changed it here and there after some of your feedback, because after quite a lot of rewriting, there were some details that were not correct anymore, because I hadn't changed them along. I hope it is a bit better now like this. Before You read the story, I state hear loud and clear that I used AI for instructions and impulses for good writing and to help me structure the story and give me story advice (caracters, plots, cliffhangers, ...). The story line and the ideas, the caracters etc., however, are products of my own imagination. According to the mod, therefore the story belongs in this section and not in the AI section. I would also be very okay with it if the story needs to be moved, because 'some' level op AI is involved. I leave this decision to the mod. I'm also asking the moderator to please remove my 'old' topic, like he already proposed. I also used translation and grammar software, because English is not my own language. All constructive criticism is welcome. Anyone that does not like the above, please don't read this story. For everyone else: enjoy reading it and forgive any typos and / or grammar mistakes. If you want, I have 2 new chapters, but there is still very much rewriting to be done. ------------------------------------------------------------- "Hey, Mr. Castellanos, check this out," Derek said, flexing his biceps with a smirk. The classroom buzzed with the typical Monday morning chatter, but he knew that his muscular arm would draw the attention of the one person who mattered most—his math teacher, Mr. Castellanos. Derek had been eyeing the handsome, slightly older man with a burning desire since the first day of school, and he was determined to make the teacher's heart race just as fast as his own during their lessons. Mr. Castellanos glanced up from his paper work, his eyes lingering for a moment on Derek's bulging biceps before quickly shifting away. "Not now, Derek. We're about to start class," the teacher replied, his voice a mix of reprimand and restrained curiosity. Derek grinned to himself, knowing very well he had piqued the man's interest. He sat back in his chair, flexing his chest muscles subtly beneath his tight school polo, the fabric straining to contain his impressive physique. "Not bad for a guy that redently turned 18, huh?", Derek thought to himself. As Mr. Castellanos began explaining algebra equations on the blackboard, Derek leaned back in his chair, his forearms resting on the desk. He flexed them ever so slightly, the veins popping and the muscles rippling like waves in the ocean. The room grew a few degrees hotter as the teacher's gaze flickered down to the mesmerizing display, his own breath hitching for a brief moment. Derek's grin grew wider as he caught Mr. Castellanos's eyes lingering longer than they should. He knew the teacher was trying to keep his cool, but the way his pupils dilated and his Adam's apple bobbed suggested a different internal narrative. The sound of the chalk on the board seemed to echo louder as the tension grew. Derek leaned forward, his forearms flexing more dramatically. He began to tap his fingers, the muscles dancing with a tantalizing rhythm that seemed to sync with the teacher's pulse. Mr. Castellanos paused in the middle of his sentence, swallowed hard and took a step away from the board to regain his composure. His eyes darted back to Derek's arms, the veins standing out like a roadmap to pleasure, the muscles bulging with power. The young bodybuilder noticed the teacher's clear discomfort and felt a thrill of victory. He knew Mr. Castellanos was trying to resist, but the might of Derek's body was too much. Derek leaned closer, the fabric of his sleeves stretching tight against his skin, the outline of his forearms stark and defined. The scent of his sweat and the faint hint of cologne filled the air, a mix that seemed to thicken the very oxygen in the classroom. Mr. Castellanos cleared his throat and tried to resume the lesson, but his hand shook slightly as he wrote on the board. The sight of his student's arms, so close, so powerful, was distracting. He found himself imagining what it would be like to feel those muscles under his own touch, to trace the veins with his fingertips, to explore the strength that lay beneath the surface. Derek's flexing grew more deliberate, his wrists rotating, making the forearms bulge. The teacher's eyes darted back and forth, trying to focus on his work but drawn inexorably back to the show of strength before him. The room was silent except for the sound of Mr. Castellanos's hand moving across the board. His mind was racing, trying to think of a way to regain control of the situation, but all he could think about was the seductive dance of Derek's forearms. The rest of the class was oblivious to the silent war of wills playing out in the front row. Derek leaned back again, the muscles in his arms relaxing, and Mr. Castellanos took a deep, shaky breath, trying to calm his racing mind. The bell finally rang, and the class erupted into the usual activity's as students gathered their things. Derek took his sweet time, making sure his teacher had a full view of his retreating back and the muscles that played beneath his shirt. As the last student left, Mr. Castellanos turned to face the empty room, his heart thundering in his chest. He knew that the battle for his self-control had just begun, and he was already losing. The following morning, Derek arrived at school with a new plan. His forearms were already fully pumped from a morning workout, and he had brought two tourniquets in his backpack. During the math lesson, he waited for the perfect moment when Mr. Castellanos had his back turned to the class, engrossed in solving a complex equation on the board. Quickly, Derek slipped the tourniquets onto his upper arms, just below the biceps, and tightened them as much as he could stand without cutting off circulation. The effect was immediate and dramatic—his forearms bulged and swelled, the veins becoming hyper pronounced and snaking like rivers across his taut skin. As the teacher turned to address the class again, Derek leaned back in his chair, casually placing his arms on the desk. The fabric of his polo tightened around his biceps, which now looked like they could burst from his sleeves. He began flexing again, the cords of his forearms standing out like ropes against the stark white of his shirt. He watched Mr. Castellanos's reflection in the window, the teacher's eyes growing wider as he took in the magnificent sight before him. The classroom's temperature seemed to rise drastically. Mr. Castellanos's voice faltered slightly as he called on a student for the answer. Derek knew he had his full attention now. He flexed his fingers, making the muscles in his forearms spasm and bulge in a mesmerizing display of power. The teacher's gaze was drawn to the spectacle, his eyes tracing the lines and contours of Derek's arms with a hunger that was becoming increasingly difficult to hide. Derek felt a thrill of power surge through him, knowing that he had the upper hand in this silent game of seduction. As the class progressed, Derek changed his flexes, sometimes going for dramatic poses that caused his shirt to ride up and reveal a breathtaking strip of toned abs. The sound of his muscles shifting and contracting was like a wet dream to Mr. Castellanos, who found his eyes straying more and more often to the student's arms. Each flex brought a new wave of elektricity to the room, a delicious promise of what could happen next. Derek's heart pounded in his chest, his body responding to the thrill of the chase as much as the teacher's growing attraction. And all this time, none of the other students notices a thing. The final bell of the day couldn't come soon enough for Derek. He had pushed the limits of his teacher's self-control, and he knew that the next move had to be decisive. So, the next day, Derek went way further in his seduction. He wore a tank top to school, the fabric clinging to every inch of his chiseled torso. The classroom was hot, the heat of the afternoon sun beating down on them, and it wasn't just from the weather outside. He made sure to sit at the desk closest to Mr. Castellanos's, his muscles gleaming with a light sheen of sweat. Every time the teacher walked by, Derek would subtly flex his arms or pecs, the fabric stretching to its limits over his bulging body. Mr. Castellanos tried to keep calm, but the way his eyes kept drifting to Derek's arms betrayed his struggle. The young bodybuilder seamed to have no care in the world, casually placing his bare feet on the chair next to him, flexing his calves. The fabric of his shorts strained against his huge legs, the outline of his quads and hamstrings on full display. The teacher's gaze lingered longer than it should have, his breathing growing more shallow as he took in the view. Mr. Castellanos's hand hovered over the whiteboard marker, his knuckles white from the effort of not reaching out to touch Derek's stomach. His voice was a hoarse whisper as he tried to keep the lesson going, but his eyes kept drifting back to the student's body. Derek felt a surge of power as he watched the man's resistance fade, drop by drop. He knew that the next move would be the one that broke the dam, and he was more than ready to be the flood that washed away his teacher's resistance. The other pupils remained blissfully unaware of the silent seduction playing out at the front of the room. Engrossed in their own schoolwork or daydreams, they were oblivious to the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Derek's flexing had become a silent orchestra, each bulge and twitch of muscle speaking volumes to the man who knew what it meant. Mr. Castellanos's eyes flickered between the equations on the board and Derek's torso, his heart racing in his chest and adrenaline pumping through his veins. Derek leaned forward, planting his elbows on the desk. He flexed his abs once more, the muscles popping out in a beautiful show that made Mr. Castellanos's hand shake. The room grew quieter, the only sound the faint rustle of paper and the occasional cough. The teacher's eyes followed the lines of Derek's body, tracing the path of sweat down his chest, the fabric of his tank top clinging to his ultra thin skin. The moment was electric, the air charged with power. Derek knew he had the teacher right where he wanted him. He slowly reached for his water bottle, his biceps bulging as he lifted it to his mouth. The motion was deliberate, a show of strength and control. He took a sip, the muscles in his throat moving with the same seductive grace as the rest of his body. As he set the bottle back down, his hand brushed slightly against Mr. Castellanos's arm, enough to make the teacher's heart skip a beat or two. The other students continued their work, oblivious to what was happening before there very eyes. Derek leaned back in his chair, his abs tightening as he whispered, "You know, Mr. Castellanos, I've been working out a lot. I bet you didn't know I had this kind of power, huh?" Mr. Castellanos couldn't help but stare at the young man's sculpted chest, the fabric of the tank top stretched taut over his pectorals. He swallowed hard, trying to formulate a response that wouldn't betray his growing arousal. "It's...it's very impressive, Derek," he managed, his voice hoarse. "Thanks, I think so too," Derek said, his eyes beaming with mischief. He leaned closer, his abs flexing with every word. "But you know what's even more impressive?" He paused for a beat, letting the tension build. "How much I want to show you everything I can do." His words were a whisper, a promise that hung in the air between them. Mr. Castellanos's eyes flicked to Derek's crotch, where the outline of an erection was beginning to form. He felt his own cock twitch in response, and he knew he was losing the battle. The teacher took a step back, trying to compose himself. "Class is almost over, Derek," he whispered, his voice weaker than he would have liked. "We should focus on the lesson." But Derek was relentless. He leaned back, his legs spreading slightly, and began to rub his now-hard cock over the rock-hard landscape of his pumped forearms. The friction was exquisite, sending waves of pleasure through his body. His eyes never left Mr. Castellanos's, holding his gaze with the same intensity he used when lifting weights. Derek's cock grew even harder as he felt the power he had over the teacher. Each stroke was deliberate, each flex calculated to drive the man before him wild with lust. The classroom was filled with desire, the walls closing in as the heat of their passion grew more intense. Mr. Castellanos's eyes were glued to Derek's arms, the muscles bulging as he pleasured himself. The sight was like nothing he had ever seen before—so raw, so unashamed and erotic. His own cock strained against his pants, begging for relief. He knew he should say something, do something, but all he could manage was a strangled sound in the back of his throat. Derek's strokes grew faster, his breathing heavier. The sight of Mr. Castellanos's hand on his desk, so close to his own aching arousal, was too much to bear. He stood, his chair scraping against the floor. The classroom was still, every student engrossed in their work, oblivious to the scene unfolding before them. Derek approached the teacher's desk, his abs tight and his cock standing at full attention. "Do you want to see more?" he asked. Mr. Castellanos looked up, his eyes glazed with lust. He nodded, unable to find the words to express his desperation. Derek stepped closer, his cock mere inches from the teacher's hand. He leaned over the desk, his muscles rippling as he did so. His heart raced, the anticipation of the moment driving him to the brink of insanity. He knew that once this line was crossed, there would be no way back. The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and the students began to pack up their things. As the last student exited the classroom, Mr. Castellanos slammed the door shut and turned the lock with shaking hands. The sound echoed through the now-deserted hallway, a declaration of their intentions. The teacher took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Derek stepped closer, the heat from his body washing over Mr. Castellanos like a wave. He leaned in, his flexed arm brushing against the teacher's chest. "I've got something to show you," he murmured, his voice sweet as ice cream on a hot summer's day. Mr. Castellanos nodded, his heart pounding in his ears. He knew what was coming, and he was powerless to resist. With a flick of his wrist, Derek removed the tourniquets, his forearms exploding with newfound blood flow. The muscles bulged, the veins standing out like a map of desire. Mr. Castellanos reached out, his hand hovering over the bulging bicep. Derek leaned into the touch, his cock pulsing in response. The teacher's hand was warm, oft, but Derek could feel the need in it. He took the teacher's wrist, guiding his hand up and down the length of his flexed forearm. Mr. Castellanos's eyes widened as he felt the power beneath his fingertips. He had never been with a man before, but in that moment, he knew that he needed Derek like he needed air to breathe. He looked up into the young bodybuilder's eyes, seeing the hunger reflected in them. Derek stepped closer, his cock now pressing against Mr. Castellanos's thigh. The teacher's hand moved of its own accord, reaching for the bulge in Derek's shorts. He traced the outline, feeling the heat and the strength. The teacher used his tongue to travel over the landscape that was Derek's body. Mr. Castellanos was insatiable. Derek's muscles tensed, his toes curling in his sneakers. He knew he couldn't hold out much longer, the pressure building in his balls like a dam about to burst. He moaned, his hips jerking, and the teacher took the hint, increasing his pace. With a final flex of his arms, Derek pushed Mr. Castellanos away, his cock standing proud and glistening. "Not yet," he panted, his eyes dark with desire. "There's so much more I want to show you." He grabbed the teacher's hand and pulled him to his feet. "Follow me," he said, leading him towards the supply closet. The supply closet was small, cramped, but the confined space only added to the intensity of their situation. Derek turned to face Mr. Castellanos, his body a canvas of perfection that the teacher couldn't help but devour with his eyes. The young man reached for a bottle of oil that he had purposely stashed away earlier, the liquid glistening under the fluorescent lights. "Ready to see the full show?" he asked with a wicked grin. Mr. Castellanos nodded, his eyes wide with anticipation. Derek began to unbutton his polo, his muscles flexing and glistening with the anticipation of what was to come. He pulled the shirt off, revealing his broad, hairless chest, each muscle shredded and wanting to be touched. The teacher couldn't resist; he stepped closer, his hand shaking as he reached out to trace the lines of Derek's abs. The contact was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure through both of them. Derek took the oil in his hand, pouring a generous amount into Mr. Castellanos's palm. "Go ahead," he urged, his voice low and seductive. The teacher's hand hovered for a moment before making contact with Derek's skin. He began to rub the oil into the bodybuilder's chest, his touch soft at first, but growing more confident as Derek moaned in pleasure. The oil was rubbed over Derek's flesh, making his muscles glisten like wet granite. The student turned to face the mirror that lined one side of the closet, his back to Mr. Castellanos. He began to flex, his back muscles rippling and contorting into a detailed tapestry of power. The teacher moved his hands over Derek's body, exploring every inch of the taut, oiled skin. The mirror reflected their images, making it seem as if there were two of them, each more powerfull than the last. Derek's breath grew heavier, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure as the teacher's hands glided over his shoulders, down his back, and around to his chest again. Mr. Castellanos took a step closer, his breath hot against Derek's neck as he whispered, "You're so beautiful." Derek's cock twitched in response, his body alive with sensation. The teacher's hands moved lower, caressing the rock-fuckin-hard globes of his ass, his fingers slipping between the shredded cheeks to tease at the tight ring of muscle beneath. Where-ever the teacher's hands went, they felt only the hardest flexed must under the thinnest skin possible. In the mirror, their reflection was a 'tableau vivant' of lust—Derek's powerful body flexing and glistening, Mr. Castellanos's desperate need carved into his face. The young man's hand worked faster, the oil making the skin slide smoothly beneath his palm. The teacher's hips jerked, his cock pulsing with every stroke. Derek leaned back, his head resting on Mr. Castellanos's shoulder, his own breaths coming in ragged pants. "You like that, don't you? Being my dirty little slut in the classroom, showing off for me?" Derek nodded, his strokes becoming more erratic as the pleasure built. "Look at yourself," Mr. Castellanos growled, his hips snapping forward. "You're made for this, for me to fuck you whenever I want." Derek's eyes flew open, meeting his teacher's in the mirror. He had never felt so desired, so wanted. The teacher's eyes never left Derek's in the mirror as he drove deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the small space. "Cum for me," he ordered, his voice a guttural rasp. "Cum for me, you filthy little muscle whore." Derek threw his head back, his body tightening as he released, ropes of cum spurting from his cock and coating his hand. Then, the spell was broken by the sound of the doorknob turning. The two men froze, their eyes wide with terror. Someone was coming, and they weren't finished. The next few moments would be a race against time, a frantic scramble to regain their composure before they were caught. The thrill of almost being discovered only added to the heady mix of emotions, leaving them both breathless and desperate. The door swung open, and the janitor's mop stopped mid-stroke as he took in the scene before him—Derek's pants around his ankles, both men's faces flushed with pleasure and panic. The janitor's eyes widened, his mouth forming an 'O' of shock before he hastily retreated, shutting the door with a quiet click. The two of them remained frozen, hearts hammering in their chests, as they listened to the retreating footsteps. When they were certain they were alone again, Derek looked over his shoulder at Mr. Castellanos with a mix of amusement and concern. "Well, that was... unexpected," he said, trying to lighten the mood. The teacher's eyes were wide with horror. "Don't worry," he assured him, his voice low and comforting. "We're not done yet." With renewed determination, Derek pushed himself off the teacher's desk, his muscles quivering with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He turned to face Mr. Castellanos, a seductive smile playing on his lips. "I want you to hit my abs," he said, his voice a sultry whisper. The teacher's eyes narrowed with confusion before realization dawned, and he couldn't help the smoldering look that took over his features. He took a step closer, his hand raising to meet Derek's request. The sound of his hand meeting Derek's abs was music to their ears—a sharp smack followed by the low, resonant thud of flesh meeting flesh. Derek's abs rippled with each hit, the impact sending waves of pleasure through his body. He leaned into it, his eyes closed and a soft moan escaping his lips. Mr. Castellanos couldn't help but be drawn in, his own desire rekindling as he watched the young bodybuilder's reactions. His strokes grew harder, his hand smacking down with the force of his own pent-up lust. Derek leaned back, placing his hands on the desk to brace himself as Mr. Castellanos hit him with more force. The smack of skin echoed through the room, each hit leaving a red handprint that stood out against the tanned perfection of Derek's stomach. The young man's hips rolled with the rhythm, his muscular butt grinding against the teacher's still-hard cock. Mr. Castellanos groaned, his hand moving to grip Derek's hip to steady himself as he continued to strike the flexed abs with an increasingly erratic pattern. The scent of sweat and sex filled the small space, mixing with the faint aroma of the leather chair. Derek's body was a masterpiece of youthful vigor, his muscles flexing and releasing in time with Mr. Castellanos's hand. The teacher's breath grew ragged, his strokes growing more erratic as the pleasure built in his own body. He couldn't resist the allure of Derek's powerhouse physique, the way his forearms bulged and his abs rippled with every smack. Suddenly, Derek spun around, his body a whirlwind of motion. He straddled Mr. Castellanos, his rock-hard ass pressing down onto the teacher's still-covered erection. "You like that, don't you?" he taunted, his voice a mix of playfulness and challenge. Without waiting for a response, he placed his hands on Mr. Castellanos's shoulders and pushed himself up, his abs hovering just above the teacher's face. The room was silent except for their heavy breathing and the sound of Derek's muscles flexing. With a wicked grin, Derek began to lower his abs, the paper-thin skin stretching taut as he brought the defined ridges closer and closer to Mr. Castellanos's mouth. The teacher's eyes widened, and he licked his lips involuntarily, the anticipation driving him wild. The moment the first ripple of muscle made contact with his skin, Mr. Castellanos's eyes rolled back in his head, and he let out a moan that was muffled by the stone muscles pressing down on him. Derek began to grind his abs against Mr. Castellanos's face, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through both of them. The teacher's nose was buried in the young man's pelvis, the scent of musk and sweat overwhelming him. He inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma of desire that surrounded them. The pressure of Derek's abs was intense, the muscles flexing and releasing in a slow, deliberate dance that had Mr. Castellanos's eyes watering and his cock straining against his pants. The bodybuilder's movements grew more erratic, his grunts of pleasure becoming more frequent. The sight of Mr. Castellanos, his face buried in Derek's crotch, was almost too much to bear. "I'm going to cum," Derek panted, his abs contracting even more forcefully. "All over your face, Mr. Castellanos." The teacher's eyes snapped open, and he looked up at Derek, his own need reflected in the young man's gaze. Derek's abs continued to flex and grind against his face, the pressure unbearable. Mr. Castellanos's breath was hot against Derek's skin, his cheeks red with exertion and desire. With a final, powerful flex, Derek's orgasm hit him hard. His cock, already leaking precum, spurted hot jets of cum across Mr. Castellanos's face, the sticky fluid coating his cheeks and nose. The teacher's eyes rolled back in his head, his mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure. The room was still, the only sound the harsh panting of their mingled breaths. Derek's abs remained pinned to Mr. Castellanos's face, the teacher's nose buried in the muscular crotch, the taste of cum lingering on his lips. Finally, Derek lifted himself off the teacher, his abs glistening with sweat and cum. Mr. Castellanos took a deep breath, his chest heaving. "Fuck," he murmured, the word a benediction and a curse all at once. "That was..." "A taste of what's to come?" He leaned down, his abs still flexed, and whispered in the teacher's ear, "But I'm not done with you yet." His hand slithered down to Mr. Castellanos's crotch, his fingers wrapping around the still-hard cock. "Not even close." Derek's eyes never left the teacher's as he brought his massive forearms together, the veins standing out like cords against the stark white of his skin. Mr. Castellanos watched, his breath hitching, as Derek positioned his arms in a V-shape. The young man's biceps flexed as he brought the teacher's cock into the center of the V, the tip nestling between the two bulging veins. Derek's fingers began to dance, making his forearms rippling as he started to move his hands in opposite directions, creating a sensation that was unlike anything the teacher had ever felt before. It was as if his cock was being massaged by the most powerful, yet delicate, set of hands imaginable. The feeling was exquisite, and Mr. Castellanos's moans grew louder, his hips thrusting into the air as Derek's forearms worked their magic. The sound of the skin sliding against the muscle was like a symphony, each note hitting just the right spot. Derek's grip was firm, his fingers moving in a mesmerizing pattern that had the teacher's eyes rolling back in his head. He could feel the orgasm building, the tension coiling in his balls like a tight spring. Derek's forearms moved faster, the muscles bulging and pulsing with each stroke. The classroom was their playground, and the rules were simple—desire reigned supreme. Mr. Castellanos's cock was trapped between the two pillars of power, the young man's strength and endurance a testament to his dedication in the gym. The teacher's body was an expression of need, his muscles tensing and releasing as Derek's forearms continued their relentless assault. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful, and yet he couldn't get enough. He begged for more, his voice a desperate whisper that seemed to turn young alfa on. The young bodybuilder smirked, his teeth glinting in the light. He knew exactly what the teacher needed, and he was more than willing to give it to him. He tightened his grip, his forearms flexing even more, the veins standing out like rivers of fire. The teacher's cock was trapped between the two muscular arms. Escaping as impossible. Mr. Castellanos could feel his climax approaching, a wave of pleasure that threatened to drown him. He bucked his hips, trying to fuck Derek's forearms, the desperation in his movements only adding to the eroticism of the scene. The young man's fingers tightened, the muscles in his arms working in perfect harmony to milk every ounce of pleasure from the teacher's body. And then, with a final, powerful flex, Mr. Castellanos was over the edge, his cock pulsing and spurting cum across the desk. Derek's arms didn't stop moving, milking the last drops of pleasure from the teacher's body as he watched the man come undone before him. The classroom was silent except for the sound of their ragged breathing. The world had narrowed to this one moment, this one perfect connection between teacher and student, predator and prey, desire and satisfaction. Derek slowly released Mr. Castellanos's cock, his forearms still quivering with the aftermath of the intense climax they had just given. The teacher looked up at him, his eyes a mix of pleasure and fear at what he had just allowed. "What have we done?" he whispered, his voice trembling. Derek's smirk grew wider, his eyes beaming with cockiness. "We've just begun, Mr. Castellanos," he said, his voice a sweet promise of more to come. "This is just the warm-up."

Andy wiped the sweat from his bench with a towel, and then the sweat from his brow. He was done for the day, and at last it was time for him to drink his shake and go home. Andy always worked hard in the gym – it meant a lot to him. Anyone who has been bullied will know what it means to get tough. He walked back to the changing room, feeling the endorphin rush, the ache in his limbs and pectorals, the bulk of his pump. At the start of the summer holiday, he hadn’t had a clue what he was doing. He had been so skinny he could barely push open the door to the gym. Now he looked like an athlete. A skinny athlete, fine. An athlete with the barest bit of muscle. It was enough. For now. He swept through the changing room door, pulled his vest with difficulty over his pumped upper body, kicked off his sneakers, jockstrap, shorts. He walked to the shower and luxuriated in the heat on his body – and the feeling of being bigger. Bigger than the old Andy. And bigger than – them. It felt so good. He turned off the shower, walked out of the cubicle and that was when he saw them. The lads from the estate. Lee. Dean. They were dressed in the usual scally boy uniform: white trainers and socks, black Adidas tracksuit and white t-shirts. Lee was in a black baseball cap and wore a thick chunky silver chain over his t-shirt and Dean had a skinny gold chain with a little cross hanging from it. They were sitting by his gym kit, waiting for him. Lee pretended not to have seen him. He picked up Andy’s jockstrap and sniffed deep. ‘Fuck,’ he said, ‘that fucking reeks. Must belong to some little poofter gym bunny.’ ‘Yeah, stinks of sweat, disgusting little bum bandit must get fucked in it when he’s not working out.’ ‘Hello lads,’ said Andy. ‘Haven’t seen you in a few months.’ ‘Whoa, fuck me,’ said Lee, looking him up and down. ‘Look at this, Dean, it’s Arnold fucking Schwarzenegger.’ ‘Or is it a little baby bird?’ ‘Cross between the two, I reckon.’ Andy grinned. ‘Take a good look while you talk your shit. I’m not huge but I'm pretty big. Bigger than either of you losers.’ He curled a bicep. ‘You’re nothing now. I’m in control.’ He pulled a ‘most muscular’. ‘And I’m only going to get bigger and bigger. Stronger and stronger. More powerful.’ The two scallies stared at him, taking in the new contours of his physique. For years he had been their bitch. Now the tables had turned. ‘Okay, so it’s true. You’ve been dedicated,’ said Lee, standing up. ‘And it’s paid off. You’ve really changed.’ ‘We heard you’d been working out,’ said Dean. ‘Thinking you could fight back.’ ‘And you know what,’ said Lee, ‘it would have worked. You’re already bigger than I thought you would be.’ ‘You’ll be getting all the local daddies chasing your arse, won’t you, poofter,’ said Dean, and spat on the changing room floor. Andy felt himself getting hard at their words. Fucking hell, he thought, not now. ‘Maybe I will,’ he said, folding his big arms. Fuck, he thought. I’m naked in front of them and I’m more intimidating than they expected. ‘Well, enjoy that, you fucking queer,’ said Lee. ‘But don’t go thinking you’re safe.’ ‘Not from us,’ said Dean. ‘I have nothing to fear from two skinny little chavs,’ said Andy. ‘Maybe not,’ said Lee. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little brown medicine bottle. ‘But we’re not staying that way for long.’ He unscrewed the bottle and knocked back half the contents, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Come on, you cunt,’ said Dean, ‘give me the other half.’ Lee extended the hand with the bottle toward his mate. He was breathing hard suddenly, and the hand was shaking. Dean took the bottle quickly. ‘What’s going on?’ said Andy, suddenly nervous. ‘We’re catching you up, gay boy,’ said Lee. He unzipped his tracksuit top and threw it on the floor. His face was a little flushed, his teeth were gritted, and his breathing was getting harder. He ran a hand over his white t-shirt, the cloth flapping around his skinny frame. He swallowed, and swallowed again. And the neck suddenly thickened. Around the neck, Lee’s shoulders flexed and broadened, like wings opening. He raised his little stick arms as if flexing his biceps. He had no biceps to flex, and then suddenly they were swelling inside the white t-shirt, filling it out. ‘Fuck!’ Lee gasped. ‘That feels fucking good!’ He was as big as Andy in the shoulders. Now his pecs were growing to match. The t-shirt went suddenly taut with a twang. The chunky silver chain that had hung loose on his neck was now riding on a pair of pecs rounder and prouder than Andy’s pert little ones. Lee’s hands moved down to caress his waist, and the t-shirt stretched tighter to show thick hard abdominals that had suddenly appeared. ‘Oh yeah,’ said Lee. ‘I’m gonna be beach body ready this year.’ He looked ridiculous, an adult gymnast’s body on a teenager’s legs. But suddenly he convulsed, bent over, and when he stood up straight away, he had gained several inches in height. ‘This is better than sex,’ said Lee, moaning. His hand was actually on his cock. ‘Fucking hell,’ said Dean. ‘Is that gonna fucking happen to – gah!’ He sank to his knees as the chemical took hold. ‘Holy shit, here I come!’ His tracksuit suddenly looked moulded to his physique. He looked up and grinned at Andy, a mad stare. ‘How’s that, you gay cunt,’ he said. ‘All fucking equal now, right?’ ‘Oh shit!’ gasped Lee. ‘How do you – how do you fucking – how you fucking stop the fucking thing working?’ They both stared at him. The height he had gained suddenly swelled by another couple of inches. The tracksuit bottoms were clinging to his hips now. The t-shirt was riding up to show off abdominals swelling into a bodybuilder gut. As his shoulders grew taller, the t-shirt was drawn up to just cover his chest. Then the lats expanded outwards and the pectoral muscles swelled outwards and Lee panted. ‘It’s fucking strangling me!’ he gasped. The shirt burst down the front and hung in two big shreds off his huge form. The silver chain was now getting tight on his throat, but it showed off the massive mounds of his pectorals as if that had been its original purpose. Lee’s teenage face above it looked surreal, but now he grinned; his gasp had turned to a laugh, several octaves deeper than before. He advanced on Andy and effortlessly put a huge hand on the lad’s shoulder. ‘Thought you were big, didn’t you?’ he growled. ‘Well, look at me now, gym bunny. Look who’s in charge now?’ ‘Yeah,’ said Dean. ‘And it’s only just fucking well begun.’ To be continued

Yo guys, this is the first story I’m sharing here. Hope you like it. This story is inspired by the old story "The biggest muscle Stud" by „BigTimmy“. And the main character is based on HSMuscleBoy's character Sean. The images I found in tester26‘s album and edited some of them to fit the story. THE EUROPEAN ALPHA-STUD CONTEST Chapter 1: Weight & Height The air crackled with anticipation as the booming voice of Caleb Williams, a mountain of muscle sculpted to perfection, reverberated through the Longdong Festival Hall. "Ladies and Gentlemen!" he roared, his voice a deep, primal rumble that sent shivers down spines, "Welcome to the 2023 edition of 'Europe's AlphaStud! The contest for hyperstuds, too huge for the Mr. Olympia" He slammed his fist on the podium, the impact echoing through the hall. "The show where the continent's most virile alphas clash for the coveted 100,000 euro prize and the Title of European AlphaStud 2023!" A wave of cheers and whistles erupted as Caleb, a towering 210cm (6’11”) black behemoth clad in a sparkling black suit with matching suit pants, that strained against his monumental bulge, took center stage. The spotlight, a searing white eye, followed his every move, highlighting the suit seams struggling with his rippling muscles. His bow tie, a single splash of red color against the stark black, did little to contain the raw power radiating from him. "You see these muscles?" Caleb growled, his voice a low, guttural sound, while flexing his mammoth muscles, making his suit almost rip. "These ain’t just for show. They're the testament to years of dedication, of pushing the limits of human potential. Tonight, we're going to see who truly embodies the spirit of the AlphaStud!" A troupe of busty muscle babes, their bodies honed to impossible perfection, sashayed onto the stage, their dance a seductive blend of athleticism and sensuality. Each move was calculated to ignite the crowd's primal desires, their muscle thighs and sculpted glutes a feast for the eyes. As the music reached its crescendo, they lined up, their gazes locking with the audience, before tearing off their bras in a synchronized display of raw femininity. The roar of the crowd was deafening, a primal symphony of lust and admiration. Caleb, a smirk playing on his lips, winked at the audience before regaining his authoritative stance. "Ladies and Gentlemen," he boomed, "twelve up-and-coming titans have battled their way through preliminary contests across Europe, each vying for the title of AlphaStud. Tonight, we witness the ultimate showdown, to see who becomes Europes new AlphaStud! n the first Round, we'll be measuring the height and weight of our studs!" Caleb announced, his voice dripping with anticipation. "10 to 1 Points will be awarded based on height and 10 to 1 based on weight, with the tallest and heaviest earning the most. Easy enough, right?" He paused, letting the crowd's excited murmurs fill the silence. "We'll be introducing our studs in alphabetical order of their surnames. So, first up: 27-year-old bull breeder, Emmanuel Alvarez, from Spain!" The audience of 5,000 erupted in thunderous applause as a huge, tall, tanned Spanish stud, his physique a testament to the Mediterranean sun, entered the stage. He was followed by one of the fitness babes, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and lust. Emmanuel, clad only in a towel around his waist, strode confidently towards the height-weight-scale.The fitness babe, her voice trembling slightly, announced: "193cm (6’4”) and 200kg (440lbs)!" The crowd roared its approval, the sound echoing through the hall. "Not bad, Alvarez!” Caleb commented. "But we've got a lot more muscle to see tonight. Next up, my fellow countryman, 28-year-old rugby player, Ekon Jackson, from the UK!" An insanely massive black stud, his glistening, dark muscles rippling, stepped onto the stage. He was a force of nature, his sheer size commanding respect and awe. The fitness babe, her lips parted in a silent gasp, licked them nervously before announcing: "205cm (6’9”) and 285kg (630lbs)!" "Now we're talking!" Caleb exclaimed with excitement. "Ekon, you're a goddamn mountain of muscle! Let's see if the rest of these boys can keep up." "Next up: 27-year-old firefighter, Mathieu Meijer, from The Netherlands!" Caleb announced and an insanely tall blonde stud, his physique sculpted to perfection, strode onto the stage. He stepped onto the scale, and the fitness babe read out his stats: "221cm (7’3”) and 215kg (475lbs)! "Fucking tower right there,! Caleb commented with awe. "Mathieu, you're a goddamn redwood!” “Next up: 23-year-old soldier, Tim Messer from Germany!" Caleb roared. A young, massive stud, with brown hair and muscles shredded to the core, stepped onto the scale, his huge muscles bulging. "200cm (6’7”) and 260kg (570lbs)!" the fitness babe announced. "What a beast!" Caleb murmured, his gaze lingering on Tim's impressive physique. "Messer, you're a goddamn tank. Let's see if you can roll over these other contenders." "Next up: 24-year-old pornstar, Isaiah Moreau from France!" Caleb announced. A tall young black stud, his presence radiating power and confidence, walked onto the stage. "213cm (7’0”) and 255kg (560lbs)!" the fitness babe announced. "Another massive brother!" Caleb commented with approval. "Next up: 25-year-old police officer, Michal Nowak from Poland!" Caleb announced. A massive stud with a short buzz cut and giant bulging muscles, entered the stage. "210cm (6’11”) and 280kg (615lbs)!" the fitness babe announced, her voice barely a whisper. "Damn Michal, you’re a goddamn brick house, you can give our British stud a run for his money!” Caleb commented. "Next up: 25-year-old fitness model, Rico Pirelli from Italy!" An insanely handsome, model-faced, tanned, black-haired stud stepped onto the stage. His physique was sculpted like a Greek god, to perfection. "195cm (6’5”) and 180kg (395lbs)!" the fitness babe announced, her gaze lingering on Rico's chiseled features and handsome face in admiration. "That’s one hot pussy slayer right there!” Caleb commented. "Next up, our youngest contestant…" Caleb announced, "Let's see if he stands a chance against our older, more mature studs: 18-year-old high schooler, Sean Thorson from Norway!" Gasps rippled through the audience as a handsome, smirking, insanely colossal, square jawed, blonde teen stepped onto the stage. His muscles were in one word: ginormous. His towering frame seemed to fill the entire stage, the audience gasped, their minds struggling to comprehend the sheer scale of his muscularity. He waved to the crowd with an overconfident grin on his face. He stepped on the height-weight scale and disbelieving babe in front of him muttered: “218cm (7’2”) and 340kg (750lbs)!” Caleb's eyes widened in shocked surprise, and he muttered: "Holy fucking muscle!" as he unconsciously adjusted his growing bulge. Rico, the Italian stud next to Sean, whimpered, his eyes fixed on Sean's massive physique. “AW YEAH. YOU WANT TO LOOK LIKE THIS, BRO?” Sean smirked to the Italian stud and bounced his ginormous pecs. The towel around the Italians waist began to rise, he moaned, a splash sound was heard, and a massive wet spot formed on his towel. The crowd erupted into laughter, and Caleb announced: "Well, that's unfortunate for Italy, seems like their stud creamed himself. He's a Beta, he's disqualified." The young Norwegian musclegod, Sean, grinned, raised his giant rippling muscle arms, and flexed, his biceps bulging like cannonballs. The crowd erupted into laughter and applause as his unexpectedly deep voice yelled out: "Fuck, so goddamn fucking huge, Just hand me the trophy right now!" His confidence was palpable, and the smitten audience couldn't help but be drawn to his cocky, charismatic presence. Caleb, the presenter, smiled: "Not so fast, boy, let's meet our last two contestants first. Next up: 26-year-old miner, Alexei Yurin from Russia." And a tough pale stud, with a huge hardened physique, stepped onto the stage, his muscles tensing as he stood tall. The fitness babe, announced his stats: "208cm (6’10”) and 270kg (595lbs)!" Caleb's gaze fixed on Alexei's impressive physique. "Another hyperheavy contender there, albeit not so HYPER heavyweight compared to our Norwegian muscleboy here!” he commented. Sean smirked down at the Russian, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Ok, and last but not least, our second youngest contender: A 21-year-old Arab now living in Turkey and working as a bouncer, Adamut al Zaid." The lights seemed to dim as a colossal, hypermasculine giant Arab stud stepped onto the stage, his chiseled square jawed face was the embodiment of macho masculinity and the massive muscles rippling beneath his skin, seemed like a living, breathing entity. His broad shoulders and bulging chest radiated an aura of raw power. The audience gasped, their eyes fixed on his imposing physique. Alissa's voice was barely above a whisper as she announced his stats: "216cm (7’1”) and 318kg (700lbs)!" Caleb's eyes widened. "Holy Muscle!. Now we got two hyperheavyweight studs here!” he exclaimed, his voice laced with excitement. The air seemed to vibrate with tension as Adamut's massive muscles flexed, his biceps and triceps bulging like massive, granite-hard mountains. "Ok, that concludes round 1 - Height and Weight, and the score is: Sean: 19 Points. Adamout: 17 Points. Mathieu and Michal: 13 points. Ekon: 12 Points. Isaiah and Alexei: 11 points. Tim: 8. Emmanuel: 4." Caleb announced and the crowd erupted into applause, their eyes fixed on the contestants, each one a towering figure of masculinity.

Part 3A "Come with me," I said, and grabbed his hand. My heart was pounding in my chest. This dude wanted my cock, and I was going to give it to him. And I'd leave this building even bigger than when I entered. He didn't protest in the slightest, either. I pulled him behind me as we exited the cafeteria and entered the performing arts center which was attached to the same building. There was a private bathroom on the second floor with a locking door, and I was going to take him there. We stomped up the stairs and fortunately there were very few people around. The bathroom was unoccupied. I threw open the door and made sure he was inside with me before letting it shut. I locked the door. Before I could even turn around, his hands were feeling up my arms and I almost didn't even want to turn around. There's just something about having your arms felt. You can almost feel your own hard muscle under someone else's fingers. I extended my arms all the way and flexed my triceps, letting the muscle bulge out from behind my arms. "Fuck," he said, and his hands were instantly upon them. My cock was throbbing against the door. I turned around and saw his brief look of disapproval. I flexed my arms again, facing him, my biceps once again bulging up against my sleeves in a double bicep pose. "Jesus your muscles are hot," he muttered, before he reached out and grasped my arms again, this time with much greater fervor than in the cafeteria. Feeling his hands on my biceps was incredible. It's one thing to feel the cloth of my shirt trying to contain my biceps, but feeling someone else's hands against them was even better. My cock was aching at this point. I grabbed his face with my right hand and kissed him hard. He didn't resist and kissed back, moaning within my mouth as his tongue danced with mine. I pulled my face off his and said "Blow me. Right now" as my left hand was already undoing the drawstring. He knelt down and helped me finish the job as our heavy breathing echoed off the bathroom walls. My shorts fell and I was astonished yet again by the sight of my quads. They weren't huge by any means, but they were definitely thicker. I deliberately flexed them, though, to see what I was missing when I was walking to the cafeteria earlier. The individual heads of muscle were almost visible. And this wasn't lost on him, either, as he took a moment to run his hands along my thighs, squeezing the hard muscle. My angry throbbing cock wasn't going to be patient for much longer, though, as I thrust myself forward and slapped him in the face with it. "Suck me, dude," I breathed. My own behavior was confusing my brain as I was saying things and doing things I would never have done in the past. My actions seemed to be guided not by my brain, though, but by my throbbing cock. He didn't waste a moment and instantly had his tongue dancing along my shaft. He licked the length of its underside which sent shivers down my spine. "Mmmm" I moaned, and he increased the speed of his licking. "Fuck, you taste good," he muttered between licks. "Wait 'til you get to the filling," I said, suddenly pleased with myself for such a swift and witty response. "Mmmf" he grunted as he took the head of my cock into his mouth, flitting his tongue all around it. His hands moved back onto my legs and his fingers were kneading the muscle beneath. I took this as a sign to flex, and I felt my legs harden into muscular strength. I watched his hands literally get pushed out by the muscle bulging, but he kept on rubbing the muscle. It felt amazing. So fucking good. It enhanced the feeling my cock was experiencing as his tongue kept its pace licking and flitting around my slit with the head in his mouth. "Ungh" I grunted in pleasure. And then he swallowed more of my cock, taking in more of its length. The heat of his mouth was far more intense than just my hand, with which I'd become all too familiar, which I already knew from my last two blowjobs, but this time it was seemingly more pronounced. I'd gotten too used to just jerking off. The pleasure of a blowjob was intensely greater than just masturbating in front of my computer screen. His tongue was dancing along my shaft, and every few seconds he'd take in a bit more of it. My cock was apparently pretty big, according to the first dude who sucked me off, and this dude was taking in its length like a champ. Slurping noises were becoming more pronounced as he continued to suckle on it, and the pleasure only increased. "Ooof" I grunted again as my entire cock was down his throat. "Hmmhf" he moaned as he continued to suck me, feeling my legs, almost massaging them. It felt sooo fucking good, especially considering the new muscle in my legs. I could see his own cock was tenting his shorts as he knelt before me, but I wasn't too concerned with it. It was hot, don't get me wrong, but I was only concerned with achieving my own climactic pleasure. I had one hand behind his head, running my fingers through his hair. He had silky hair, very nice to touch. But the dual purpose of my hand on his head was to keep his head on my cock, in case he tried to pull off for any reason. He was going to finish this. He gave no indication of stopping, but I felt like I should take measures to prevent any attempts he could make to pull away. I was so close to achieving more growth. Nothing was going to stop it. I flexed my other arm for myself. I was getting really eager for my cock to explode, and seeing my own bicep flex into hardness was enhancing the experience. The sleeve tightened once again around the muscle, the cloth digging into my skin. Such a rush to feel that sensation. "Oh fuck yyyeahhh" I moaned, feeling the pressure building within my balls. My bicep was so defined. I don't think it fully sank in yet that it was, in fact, my own arm. The definition was perfect. A nice vein was protruding from my skin across the peak of my bulging bicep and I could almost see it throbbing as it pushed my blood through my body, getting ready to feed my muscles with the growth I knew was coming. "Ommmfff" he moaned again, and I saw his eyes looking at my bicep flexing. He was a muscle fag, too, just like the last guy who sucked me off. Of course, I knew that I was a muscle fag. But now I possessed a body I could easily jerk off to. And I was getting bigger. There was a wet spot on his crotch, and I supposed he was leaking pre into his shorts. I pumped my bicep a few times, enjoying feeling that cloth tighten around it each time. Fuck yes. It suddenly occurred to me that my sleeves might bust open in a few moments. And just that thought alone sent me over the edge. "Oh god--unghh--here it coooomes..." I grunted and groaned. My arm fell to my side. My cocksucker didn't know it, but I meant that in two ways. My cum, and the growth that will follow. The pressure reached its zenith. That telltale feeling when you know you're about to explode cum through your cock. And I don't mean those weak-ass ejaculations you sometimes get from a lackluster experience. No. This one was explosive. It was the kind that always makes your cock get even harder right before shooting. It was welling up from deep within my balls, and my cock was about to shoot cum harder than a firehose. I felt him squeeze the backs of my legs as he braced himself. He didn't try to pull away, and I was afraid he might when he knew I was going to cum. He held on. But I kept my hand behind his head anyway just in case. I needed him to swallow all of it. It may not have mattered, but every time I grew, the cocksucker swallowed my load. I wasn't going to take any chances. "Oh g--" and my voice caught in my throat as I felt the first explosion launch from my cock. "Ahh!" I shouted with a somewhat failed attempt at remaining subdued. I didn't want anyone outside the bathroom to hear too much. I obviously couldn't see it, but the volley that exploded from my cock felt huge, and he was struggling to gulp and swallow it all. He didn't gag, though, which was good. "Don't you--*huff*--spill a drop--AHH" and I shot again, another strong volley right into the back of his throat. "MMFF" he made a sound. I couldn't tell if it was of enjoyment or otherwise, but I didn't care. "Fuck yessss" I breathed, before shooting once again. I could feel the energy creeping into my muscles. A new show was about to begin. "Ungghgod," I groaned, as I felt what I assume was one last trailing shot. I gripped his hair, a clump of it within my hand. I was glad he had long-ish hair so I could even do this. I pulled him off my cock, and I realized as it slid out of his mouth that it was just as hard and throbbing as before I came. He was panting, and I could tell the inside of his mouth was coated with my spunk. He looked up at me, one eye closed, and I absolutely loved how my forearm was flexing as I held his hair within my hand. "Watch what you just did to me, little boy," I said with a deliberate attempt at deepening my voice. Why, though? I couldn't help but realize I was talking way differently from how I usually would. 'Little boy'? Did I mean to call him that? My thoughts on my strangely different demeanor were going to have to wait, because the power within my body was coming to its climax and I knew I was about to grow. I pulled on his head a little more until he lost his balance and fell backwards, and as I released his hair from my hand, I could feel the first changes happening to my body. He lay on the cheap tile of the floor of the bathroom and didn't make any attempt to sit up. I felt my body pulse. "You're gonna miss the show!" I shouted. He sat up on his elbows and glanced at me with a bemused expression as I stood there, my breaths shallow but deep. His tent was still pronounced in his shorts. My chest was heaving as my cock remained straight up and out, throbbing and still drooling onto the floor. My shorts remained down around my ankles but that's where I wanted them to stay. And my shirt... well, I definitely wanted that to stay on. For now. I wasn't even going to attempt to reconcile how I was still hard and throbbing. It felt too good to care. Nothing beats being hard and horny. "Ohhh fuck--ngh--yeahhh" I groaned, and I felt it happening. The shirt suddenly felt tighter around my shoulders and lats, and I could see within my peripheral vision that my shoulders were growing larger; they were spreading ever-so-slightly farther apart. My cocksucker's eyes widened. "Fuck yes," I breathed, seeing his reaction. "Unghh" I grunted as I felt growth entering my chest. My pecs were definitely swelling as I felt them flexing on their own. The muscle was bunching up against the fabric of the shirt, and it was tightening even further across my chest. I looked down, trying to see what was happening, and all I could see was my chest was pushing further and further out. My growing pecs caused the shirt to ride up and expose my abs. "Holy fucking shit!" exclaimed my cocksucker. GOD I needed to learn their names. I couldn't just keep referring to them as Cocksucker. Or... maybe I could. Cocksucker number one, cocksucker number two, and now cocksucker number 3. They could have their own t-shirts. I laughed inwardly at myself. But then I shook my head. My nerdy personality was rearing its ugly head and I needed to dispel it. He clambered to his feet, almost tripping over himself twice in the process. He had to brace himself by putting his hands on the wall, but his eyes never left my body. He had an almost hungry look in his eyes as he stared at my muscles. It was lust. I could see he was gathering his senses, and I felt my abs etching themselves deeper into my lower torso. My hands ran over my abs, and yes, they were definitely more defined. Tighter. Harder. I chuckled as I felt the orgasmic pleasure across my body as growth continued to flow through my limbs. The only way to describe it was like that amazing feeling you get in your cock as it hardens and grows from sensually intense arousal, only in my entire musculature. My hands wandered lower to right above my crotch, and my fingers traced my developing Adonis belt. "Fuck yeah," I said again, realizing that was a phrase I'd probably be using a lot. Adonis belts are so fucking hot, and I had one of my own. Suddenly my cocksucker reached for me, and I put my hand up to stop him. "Not yet. Still--" and I gasped, feeling my ass suddenly tighten as my glutes bulged on their own, growing tighter against the door against which I was still standing, "--grrrrowwwwwingg" I groaned, and I felt my legs flex uncontrollably and I could feel them swelling against each other. I had to spread my legs wider and I looked down and saw individual heads of muscle in my quads as they defined themselves before our eyes. "Yessss," I breathed, loving the fact that my legs were achieving the definition I longed for. My calves bulged bigger as well, adding mass and thickening my lower legs. I loved how they were tapering up from my thin ankles, creating a stark contrast. They used to be so skinny. My cocksucker looked frustrated as he stood there watching me. He looked almost frantic, and I could tell he was fighting his desire to worship me. Me! What a rush! His breathing was shallow, and I could see he was leaking profusely into his own shorts as his tent remained ever-prominent. He wanted so badly to feel my body. "How the fuck are you doing this?" he asked. "Just watch," I muttered quietly as I waited for the best part to come. And it was coming, alright. That orgasmic erection-like feeling was spreading across my back, and I felt it widening, thickening, made ever-so-more evident by the further tightening of my shirt. Stress lines were appearing in the cloth as it was being pulled much tighter than it was ever meant for. I rolled my more bulbous shoulders forward, forcing the shirt to tighten greater across my back, and I heard threads snap. "Oh yeah, here we go," I said, and repeated the action. Threads continued snapping, and I could feel the tingling entering my arms. FUCK. I rolled my shoulders forward once more and RRIIPPP the shirt tore down the center of my back. "FUCK!" my cocksucker shouted. He whipped his hand around his dick without even taking it out of his shorts and started jerking himself. "More!" I shouted in response, and I actually brought my arms up in front of my face and watched them, waiting for them to follow the rest of my body. My forearms were pulsing before my eyes, throbbing with each beat of my heart. And it was beating fast, I was so excited. Veins were wrapped around them, my muscle-blood fueling the muscle. They thickened, and I knew the best part was coming. "Aww fuck yeah," I cockily said, and flexed my arms up into my new favorite pose, double-biceps. The sleeves tightened around the muscles, and immediately I could tell they were tighter than before. I straightened my arms, and then flexed again. The sleeves dug into my skin, trying to contain my biceps as they throbbed and grew bigger. Threads snapped. I heard it clearly, and the sound even echoed off the bathroom walls. I looked at my cocksucker and his hand was furiously jerking his cock through his shorts. He was panting, and watching me intently as I continued to transform in front of his eyes. I looked from one bicep to the other, the sleeves still holding on. I don't know which threads snapped, but more were about to. I straightened my arms and flexed again, and this time both biceps surged bigger and my sleeves exploded apart, POP! And two mountains had risen from my arms, exposed entirely, each one with a throbbing vein running across its peak. "FUCK YES!" "Oh fuck, oh god," my cocksucker muttered and I glanced back at him to see him still jerking, but a large wet spot growing on his shorts. "Ohh fuck," he grunted again, and I saw his jerking stop, but his hand continued to grip his bulge through his shorts. His whole body appeared rigid as he stood there, his eyes closed. The wet spot continued to grow. Seeing this dude's cock just go apeshit over my growth sent me over yet another edge as my still hard, throbbing, drooling cock exploded once more. "OHHH FUCK!" I hollered as I felt the explosion well up almost instantly and shoot from my dick, spraying my cocksucker right in the face with the first long, hot, white rope of cum. And then another shot, not as big as the first, but large enough that it almost reached him. And then one more, before it turned into a dribble as cum just puddled all over the floor. And... holy shit, I looked down at my cock and did it... look bigger? I'd have to explore that some more later. Right now, I had a shirt on that was ruined, a large tear down the back and sleeves that were ripped to shreds, and shorts I wasn't sure would fit over my thicker legs. And a little cocksucker covered in my cum and some of his own. Oh boy. How do we get out of this situation without drawing any attention? I felt my insecurities creeping back into my brain as I started thinking of how this might go if someone catches us walking out of a bathroom together with cum all over the place. "Shit" I seethed as I bent over and pulled my shorts up my muscled legs. I moved slow to make sure I didn't accidentally rip them. And, as I brought them up over my quads, I was relieved that they still fit, the stretchy cloth containing them. My thin waist was of no concern, but where my legs were thickest definitely showed through the shorts, now. My cocksucker was stirring, as well, and I was almost concerned he might've passed out since he was so quiet. But he was attempting to wipe away the cum from his face with some toilet paper. He saw me looking at him. "Fuck, dude, how did you do that?" "I legit don't know, man. I just grow when my cock is sucked." "Hottest thing I've ever seen in my life." "Hottest thing I've ever felt in my life. Not even a week ago I was a skinny twig. Then I got my first blowjob. And then another. And now the one you just gave me." I flexed to accentuate my new musculature and my bicep exploded from my arm. It was so hot. To see that muscle which was only just a bump on my arm not long ago. "Fuck yeah," I muttered to myself. The muscle on my body made me forget the possible embarrassment over what transpired in here. I looked into the mirror and saw a jock looking back. "Hey, uh, think we could leave separately? I just wanna make sure no questions arise as to why two dudes were in the bathroom together. Not that I care, I just don't wanna waste my time answering them." I continued to look into the mirror. I tucked my fingers into my torn collar and watched my forearms flex as I ripped it apart, rending my shirt down the center and watched my torso come into full view. "FUCK," I said aloud, looking at two thick pecs, a clear six-pack, round shoulders with visible striations, and even traps. I had that coveted V-taper going, too. FUCK, I was hot! My arms bulged at my sides as I held the rag that was once my shirt. "But--" he started to protest, I assume. "Thanks, bro. Here--" I tossed the rag that was once my shirt at him, and it landed over his head and face, "--use that to clean up. I'll see ya around, alright?" and I unlocked the door and walked out of the bathroom, my bare torso on display for all to see. I didn't even care. The few people who were even around looked, of course, but no one complained. In fact, almost every look I got was one of lust or pure wonder. I felt myself strutting as I walked. My mind, at first, wanted to correct myself and walk normally, but the thought quickly dissipated. I deserved to strut. I was hot. And, as I exited the building into the hot sunlight, I realized a tan would look really good. And I realized something else. I definitely did leave the building even bigger than when I entered.

Hope you enjoy the fun Christmas story I've been working on. Merry Massmas Chapter One Daniel Lorca was mopping the front lobby of the gym at 2pm on Christmas Eve when the older man walked in. “We’re closing at 4pm today. That gives you about two hours. That enough time for you to train?” Daniel looked up from what he was doing. As soon as he saw the older man, he knew he had never seen him before because he would definitely would have remembered the body, if not the face. For a guy who was probably in his late 50’s or early 60’s, he had a killer body on him. Of course, since the popularity of Testosterone Replacement Therapy, lots of older guys had great bodies, but none could hold a candle to his guy. Daniel himself was envious of the guy’s bulging pecs, his broad shoulders, his wide lats, and the bulging biceps on display under the tight red compression shirt he was wearing. “Guess it’ll have to be. Won’t it? Can I purchase a day pass?” The guy smiled a perfect smile at Daniel and had a gleeful look in his eye. No, Daniel had never seen him before, but if he had, he definitely would have wanted to see more of him. Upon closer inspection, the guy’s hair and beard might be a mix of silver and white, but his skin and ice blue eyes were timeless. He was one of those individuals who could either be 30 or 300. He was taller than Daniel, around 6 foot 3, with a wide bright smile and and sharp chiselled cheekbones. “Don’t worry about it. My treat. Merry Christmas. If you need longer, just tell me. I’m in no rush. Might train myself again after we close.” Daniel walked over to the counter and grabbed a sheet of paper. “Just need you to fill this out for liability.” The ‘Old Man’ put down his leather gym bag, picked up a pen in his muscular hands, and began to fill out the form. “Not going out tonight?” “Nah. Probably just chill and watch A Christmas Story.” “Great film. Sexy guy like you shouldn’t be watching it alone.” “Thanks. But… yeah. Alone this Christmas.” “What happened to Tristan?” The ‘Old Man’ put the pen down and looked caringly into Daniel’s eyes. “Trist? We… broke up. Three months ago. Said dating a Gym-Rat was cute at 20 but pathetic at 30. He was looking for a ‘Big Man’ who could match him financially. It’s for the best. Honestly. We’d both changed…” “Sounds like it. What about your friends?” “All off visiting family. Damn I sound pathetic!! Daniel laughed and made a valent attempt to change the topic. He hated talking about himself let alone his failed relationship. “What brings you to town?” “Here on business.” The ‘Old Man’ locked eyes with Daniel. His blue eyes were piercing, and Daniel found himself getting hard just from the gaze. “Over the holidays? Damn. Rough.” All Daniel could imagine was the ‘Old Man’ bending him over the bench press and fucking the life out of him. “I’m used to it. Makes for a good change. I work from home most of the time.” Both men stared at each other until the ‘Old Man’ broke the silence. “Do you… want to show me where the locker room is?” The ‘Old Man’ smiled a warm happy smile. “Of course! Sorry.” Daniel walked through the multitude of machines to the stone and silver locker room. The ‘Old Man’ followed close behind Daniel, his large warm body magnetically close to him. “Pretty quiet here today.” “Yeah. Most people worked out this morning. That’s why we’re shutting early. The lockers are right here… and the showers are back there.” The two men stared at each other again. When the ‘Old Man’ breathed in, Daniel could see his shirt straining to hold in his substantial pecs’ “Thanks, Dan. I can take it from here.” The ‘Old Man’ smiled broadly at Daniel. No one had called him ‘Dan’ since his father died four years ago. His father had been a tall and muscular mechanic whose name was also Dan and the name fit his masculine nature. Even when Daniel got in shape and packed on some muscle mass, he never felt like a Dan… only a Daniel. “Oh. Right. Of course. Let me know if you need anything.” “Will do.” Daniel returned to the lobby and resumed mopping the floor. Occasionally, he’d catch a glimpse of the ‘Old Man’ working out. He lifts were insane, and never once did he ask Daniel to spot him, no matter how heavy he went. The only time he came over and spoke to Daniel was in the middle of his bench press when he asked for a bottle of water because he had forgotten his refillable one. The ‘Old Man had taken his shirt off and was mopping his brow with it. His chest was exactly as Daniel thought it would be: Meaty, thick, with a nice coating of slier hair that cascaded over his pecs and over his mountainous abs. Standing close to the ‘Old Man,’ Daniel could feel himself begin to get aroused simply from the powerful aroma he was giving off. The ‘Old Man’ smelled of rich and potent spices. Daniel tried to put his finger on what he smelled like, but all he could come up with was a mix of cinnamon, gingerbread, and leather. Daniel gave him the bottle of water, on the house, and watched him bench for a few minutes before he went back to finishing his closing duties. He had barely realized the time had flown by until the ‘Old Man’ walked up to the counter. He had showered and changed and was wearing a red hoodie over an extremely tight white t-shirt that threatened to split every time he moved. Daniel hadn’t realized how thick and full the ‘Old Man’s’ beard was or how ice blue his eyes were either. His eyes seemed to dance and glow, and when the ‘Old Man’ glanced at you… you felt like he was seeing and caring about only you. Leaning over the counter, his face extremely close to Daniel’s, a cool artic blast of peppermint radiated from his mouth and into Daniel’s nose. “Thanks for helping an old guy out. All the cookies at Christmas aren’t great for my waist.” “Tell me about it. I’ve been trying to be good all month.” “I know you have. Good all year. Very good.” The ‘Old Man’s’ face was inches away from his. His lips were red, and his cheeks flushed from working out. Barely above a whisper he said: “Any other day, I’d be riding that tight as of yours all night… but tonight… just not possible.” The ‘Old Man’ grabbed the back of Daniel’s head, and their lips met. The ‘Old Man’ was a powerful kisser, and Daniel thought he would cum just from feeling his strong and probing tongue toy with his own. Moments later, the ‘Old Man’ let go of Daniel and pulled away. “Fuck it. What happens down here stays down here.” The ‘Old Man’ came around the counter, and moments later the two men were locked in each other’s arms, holding each other tight, and making out. The ‘Old Man’s’ large hand massages Daniel’s cock through his pants as Daniel massaged his thick pecs. Both knew that they didn’t have much time. Daniel watched the ‘Old Man’ undo his black leather belt and let his jeans fall to the floor. Daniel fell to his knees and began to lick the ‘Old Man’s thick cock through the red fabric of his jockstrap. Just as Daniel would have expected, the ‘Old Man’s’ basket was very full with a fat cock and two large balls. Daniel’s hands shook a little as he raised them to the ‘Old Man’s’ waist and pulled the tight jockstrap down, releasing his treasure. The ‘Old Man’s’ cock quickly grew hard, and soon Daniel was face to face with a beautiful uncircumcised 9 incher that he eagerly took into his mouth. The ’Old Man’s’ crotch smelled strongly of his own essence: spice and leather. Daniel tried to get as much of the shaft into his mouth and throat as was humanly possible, but it was impossible to get his mouth down to the curly silver hairs that surrounded the thick root. After a few minutes of eager cock sucking, the ‘Old Man’ grabbed Daniel, forced him up off of his knees, spun him around, and bent him over the counter. No matter how much Daniel didn’t want it to, reality seeped in. He turned his head slightly and said: “the door… need to lock the…” Daniel grunted and moaned as he felt the ‘Old Man’s sturdy hands grab his ass and shove his meaty cock head into him. The ‘Old Man’ thrust again and again and again, filling Daniel up with the longest and thickest cock he had had in a while. Finally, the guy was all the way in, and as he rode Daniel, he said: “No one will come in. Trust me.” Daniel did trust him. The ‘Old Man’ turned Daniel’s head towards him and they began to make out as he rode Daniel’s ass hard and deep. Waves of euphoria washed over Daniel as he felt himself filled up like never before. Skill definitely had come with age. The ‘Old Man’ was the best lover Daniel had ever had, and he never wanted it to end. After fifteen minutes of hard pounding, Daniel heard the ‘Old Man’ grunt several times, and then release a hot load deep inside of him. Feeling the heat as well as the swelling cock so deep within him forced Daniel over the edge, and he began to cum the biggest load of the year all over the paperwork that covered the counter. Daniel’s orgasm shook him to the core, and he found himself collapsing onto the counter. The ‘Old Man’ pulled his half-hard cock out of Daniel’s ass, leaving him feel oddly empty; like someone had given him the greatest gift, and then taking it away. Huffing and trying to catch their breath, the two men grinned at each other. “I hate to tap that and run, but if I don’t, I’ll never get started.” “I understand. That was…”. The ‘Old Man’ grabbed Daniel and kissed him. Then, quick as lightning, he had his jeans pulled back up, threw his red hoody on over his white T-Shirt, and crossed in front of the counter. “You’re a good guy, Daniel Lorca. Here.” The ‘Old Man’ opened his black gym bag and pulled out a glass jar that contained both red and green gumdrops. “Merry Christmas. Now, lock up. You live in the apartment attached to the building, right?” “I… I do…” Daniel still found it hard to speak after such a marathon fuck. “Then go home. Have some fun. It’s Christmas Eve… the one night of the year wrapped in magic.” The ‘Old Man’ closed his leather gym bag, threw it over his shoulder, and in a moment, he was out the door. Daniel found that the room still smelled like the ‘Old Man’ long after he was gone. After downing two bottles of water, Daniel cleaned up the mess and threw the cum coated papers in the trash. After locking the door and turning off the lights, he turned around, and watched as the moonlight hit the jar of gumdrops, causing them to glow. Daniel grabbed the jar and walked to the coded door in the back of the gym that led to his apartment. It was while he was punching in the code that he thought, how did he know my name? I never told him… and how did he know about Tristan and me? Daniel didn’t even know the ‘Old Man’s name. He had gone to look it up after the guy had left, but it had been written on the form that Daniel had let loose his biggest load over, and it had smeared the ink. Ah well. It was a fun Christmas Eve fuck! More exciting left a mystery. Daniel hummed a Christmas carol as he closed the door to his apartment behind him. Surprisingly, Daniel was horny right again after closing the door. He was barely in the tiny apartment before he was tearing his sweatpants off, laying down on the couch in the living room, and jerking himself off quickly to completion. His orgasm was once again unnaturally strong, and he felt ropes of hot cum hitting his pecs and face. Daniel lay there for a while enjoying the afterglow of his orgasm and thinking once again how incredible a lover the ’Old Man’ had been. After breaking up with Tristan and not sure what life held for him, it was exactly what he had needed. He wished he had a way to thank, the mysterious stranger, but deep down he knew that the ‘Old Man’ knew. Then, with a leap, he jumped off the couch and headed into the bathroom to clean up. Looking at himself in the mirror, Daniel was in awe of how large his load had been. He’d been so busy working to cover the shifts of friends and colleagues who had gone away for the holidays, that he hadn’t had time to even think about sex, let alone jerking off. It must have been nearly two weeks since the last time he had orgasm, so it was no wonder the last two times he had nut it had been a deluge! Daniel took a quick shower, enjoying the warm water cascading over his body. He was proud of how he looked. He may not be as big as the ‘Old Man,’ but his body had decent size and symmetry. When he wore tight clothes, he got lots of looks from both men and women, and even if he was thinning a little on top, he knew that he would be classified in the sexy category if asked. He hated that he never went to college, but when his father died, he needed to be the one to bring in the money for his family. Tristan never understood that. He never said it, but Daniel always thought Tristan believed he was just lazy or not very bright, preferring the gym to the classroom. Even when he had gotten his PT certificate, Tristan had acted pleased for him, but deep-down Daniel had felt his ex was never really that proud. Daniel turned the shower off and stepped out into the steam filled bathroom. Rubbing the condensation off the mirror with his hand, something he always regretted doing but did anyway, he took a good look at himself. He stood 5’10, 198 lbs of muscle with a stubborn layer of fat over it. His hair was buzzed short to make up for the areas where none grew anymore and was hiding the fact that some silver was starting to show. Daniel flexed his right bicep and enjoyed the sight of its peak. He couldn’t complain. He may not be the mass monster he always wished he could be, but he was healthy and mostly happy. Sure, he wished his 5-inch cock was longer and thicker, and maybe it would be nice to have bigger, low hanging balls that shot epic loads ever time, but these were the genetic cards he had been dealt. What good did it do to whine about it? After fully drying off, Daniel slipped on a pair of black briefs, left the bathroom, and made his way into the kitchen to reheat his meal. He had originally planned to make a Christmas Eve dinner, but instead he decided to wait and make a ‘feast for one’ the next day. Right now, reheated chicken, some rice, and a veg would do him just fine. He had bought a carton of Rocky Road ice cream as a treat along with some eggnog to eat and drink while celebrating the holidays and watching Christmas lying on the couch. It was a few hours after he had eaten his meal, and in the middle of the film ‘White Christmas,’ when Daniel suddenly began to crave something sweet to eat. He wasn’t in the mood for ice cream yet, and he never kept any other candies or cookies in the house due to his diet. He thought about running out to the gas station get a candy bar when he remembered the Christmas present ‘The Old Man’ had given him. Jumping up from the couch, he grabbed his backpack and opened it up. Inside was the glass jar. Pulling it out, his eyes fell to the printed label: “Make a Christmas Wish! A small gift for Daniel. Make a wish before biting into a green gumdrop, and the wish will come true. Regret a wish, and all you need to do is bite into a red one. Warning, there are far fewer red ones than green ones. Have fun… and be specific! Kris” Daniel laughed at the idea. What an incredible marketing tool! He was sure the company must have sold tons of these this year. Who doesn’t love the fun of imagining their wishes coming true… yet… the label… the instructions and his name were printed directly on it… it wasn’t handwritten… and the label was glued to the glass. There was no way… Daniel turned the glass jar around and looked at the label where the ingredients should be. Instead, there was another message: ‘Believe it, Daniel. Trust me. But remember: once the 25th turns to 26th… the magic in the gumdrops fades away, and what you’ve wished for and kept, will be yours. Nothing like a little Christmas magic! Kris. Oh… they also have no calories! Enjoy!’ Daniel shook his head. How in the world had ‘The Old Man’ done this? He unscrewed the top, and when he took it off, his nose was inundated with the scent of peppermints, cinnamon, and evergreen trees. It was possibly the best thing he had ever smelled in his entire life. Putting his fingers into the jar, he removed a green gumdrop and held it up to the light. It looked exactly how you would expect a gumdrop to look. There was nothing truly magical about how they looked, and yet… Why not? Why not try it. If it didn’t work, no one would know how silly he had been. It wasn’t like there was a hidden camera in his house… right? He looked around but saw nothing out of place where a camera could be hidden. Sitting up, he placed the glass jar on the table and looked at the green gumdrop. Aloud, Daniel said: “I wish I could lose 20 pounds of stubborn fat and be shredded as fuck!!” He put the gumdrop into his mouth and but down. Instantly, his mouth exploded with flavour. The spicy taste of peppermint filled his mouth and then radiated through his entire body. For a moment, he had the sensation he was standing naked in a forest with snow falling all around him. Daniel swore he could smell the pine in the air and the crispness of the winter wind. When the coolness eventually faded away, he was left with the sweet chewy goodness of a masterfully crafted gumdrop. Chewing the rest, he quickly swallowed it. And he waited… and waited… and waited. Soon five minutes had passed and.., The room began growing hot..., or was it Daniel’s own body temperature rising? His face felt flushed, and he could feel tiny beads of perspiration rising all over his body. He went to stand, but his body felt out of his own control, and he fell back onto the couch. Fuck, he thought, that old man poisoned me. He… Daniel felt his body getting more feverish. Sweat was pouring off him now, running over his pecs and down his abs. He stood up again, and although the living room spun around him, this time he was able to stand on his own feet. His stomach had begun to gurgle, and it felt as if steam was rising from the pores all over his body. He stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the lights. When he did, his mouth fell open as he saw with his own eyes the stubborn layer of fat that had always covered his pecs and abs was quickly disintegrating. Daniel could actually feel the fat melting away, and it wasn’t only on his torso. In the small mirror he watched as his face proceeded to grow thinner and sculpted, his neck and chin lost the annoying bulk, his quads slimmed slightly, and his ass lost some of the jelly buy gained a firmness he had never seen. Once the fat had dispersed to who knows where, the skin covering his abdomen began to tighten, and in minutes Daniel had the tight 6-pack he had always dreamed of. Daniel’s body temperature continued to rise and the sweat continued to pour, and the longer this continued, the more shredded his body became. His body fat must have dipped below double digits as his skin began to look shrink wrapped over his musculature. Pipe like veins were now visible circling around his body to feed his muscles, while his face became more angular and chiselled. Eventually, when the extreme temperature began to lower and return to normal, Daniel began to flex his jacked body in front of the mirror. All of the poses he had read about or seen on line or at the gym he began to do. I look like a fuckin fitness model. Hell! I could be a fuckin fitness model!! Daniel flexed more, his cock hardening in his briefs from the excitement. It would have taken more than a year of strict diet and cardio and who knows what else to have gotten these incredible aesthetics… and who could say if I actually could have accomplished this!! Looking at himself in the mirror, Daniel began to grin and stroke his cock. I can have anything I want, he thought. I can become anything I want!! Merry Christmas, Daniel!!! All you need to do is wish it!!! The image of himself at that moment, and the image of what he could become caused his heart to flutter. I can have anything, he thought. I look like a fuckin fitness model. Ha! I could be a fitness model! Daniel flexed a few more times, his cock hardening in his briefs from the excitement. This would have taken more than a year of strict diet and cardio, and who knows if I would have gotten these incredible aesthetics. Looking at himself and grinning, he stroked his cock a few times. The image of himself at that moment, and the image of what he could be caused his heart to flutter.

A down on his luck Onlyfans Star tries to restart his falling career after a scandal. --- He wasn’t just your type, he was everyone’s. 6’5, and shaggy brown hair, and a dusting of chin fuzz that’d feel real good against your skin, and just enough of a bro vibe that he felt special to his audience. Thomas had it all. It’s not that he hadn’t worked hard for it. Some was luck, a lot of it was just banging at it for seven years. He WAS pulling in 120k a month for just from the back catalogue, and all he had to do is make a new video four times a month and be with a dude for 80 minutes and make sure they get just one solid angle. Bodybuilding for seven years, and then getting some enhancements, Thomas had the build you’d see in a superhero movie. The taller the person, the harder it is to look built, but somehow he’d managed to gain an impressive frame that would look just massive on a shorter body. Muscled, athletic arms, big but lean to see the muscle underneath, with the kind of arms you’d see on an archer. There was help to get there. All the bigger guys in the industry were on some PEDs, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Who wouldn’t want to look the best you possibly could? In his industry, you had to look among the best, and that definitely made it easier. Cut muscles, and a killer smile… and just a little… something special that people can’t put their finger on. That thing? That straight vibe he gives off isn’t fake. Sure, his special move is climaxing into some good looking guy? Yeah, just some ED medication and real good lighting can go far. And when Thomas came out as straight, it didn’t just sink his career… it just, well, it just middled it. Now only making 60k a month, he had to resort… to something he swore off… More dude stuff. “Hey guys, it’s me Thomas. And here I’m with Fox and….” Thomas rubbed his chest, popping them out and making them even bigger with a flex… “After coming out as straight… I’ve been really rethinking some things. It’s been harder to connect with my longtime girlfriend and some feelings… well… now I want to explore the old stuff… you liked that old stuff let's have the fun you… and I both liked…” He put his hand on Fox’s belly. Fox himself was pretty lean. About a foot shorter than Thomas, and short but buzzed ginger hair, a soft playful, somewhat innocent look on his face. “And what we missed… Well, you loved when I tried bottoming with Bolt, and I’ve been bad, guys, so maybe…” Thomas reached over and gave Fox a push on the chest. There wasn’t much muscle on him at all, a rather plain flat chest, and pale white skin that freckled across his nose and shoulders. Contrasted against Thomas’s tan fuzzy body, there wasn’t much on Fox besides a lean body that looked like if it needed to move, it could. He couldn’t have been more than 120 pounds. “How do you feel Fox… and…” Thomas bit his lip, looking back to the camera. Fox just looked up and down his partner, a soft smile of desire and hunger. “He’s a bit smaller, but that’s hot right? Maybe I’m giving back?” “Whatever you say man…” Fox reached over and grabbed Tom’s hand and gave it a nibble, and then reached behind Thomas and brought him down for a kiss. Thomas’s eyes went wide for a moment, before narrowing quickly as he overly moaned out the side. Tom pushed Fox away up and rubbed his mouth off on the back of his hand. “Hmmmm. Yeah. That was so great dude.” And then motioned behind him towards the bed. “I’ve got a great angle… I’ve got some pillows, let’s get the camera down by the edge of the bed near my head… and go from there bro…” Even laying down, Thomas looked absolutely massive. Edges of his muscles caught the shadow, highlighting their thickness and definition. Anyone who appreciated muscle would love to run a hand across its thickness and warmth. And his back cliffed behind him, with face turned towards the camera as Fox easily slipped behind Thomas as he presented himself in dog position. “Just be nice to me… even though I’ve been bad....” Gay porn isn’t about penetration, it’s about the enjoyment. A good illusion can be good enough. And just like with Bolt, a mixture of shadow and positioning was good enough to give that illusion. “What do you want me to do with you?” Fox asked, as Thomas reached behind himself and pulled down his shorts. “Take me…” Fox positioned himself behind Thomas, and reached down and grasped him by the hips. “As you want.” It’s a rare thing to see a partner being a foot shorter than the other, and yet there was Fox behind Thomas, in many ways dwarfed in size, width, and length. Pale white skin grasping against Thomas’s tan. Thomas bit his lip. “Oh wow… you’re not playing…” he dully spoke with a laugh. “Yehaw man, keep going…” The two rocked together. “Take it bro…” and flexed his lower back. Fox smiled outwardly, an earliest smile with a hint of mischief. He took his arms under Thomas’s armpits, and held him as he started to press forward. “As much as I want?” “Yeah man… I’ve been bad…” and wiggled his hips. For the first time that night outside his pump, Thomas felt hot. The hands cupping his lats pooled heat into him, and his face flushed red as a soft pleasant warmth started to spread across his back, warming him in a way he’d never felt before. Thomas moaned. A real moan. It felt… good. It felt even better for Fox. As his flat tummy pressed against Thomas’s backside, at the top of his buttocks, his nards just slightly under Thomas’s, he inhaled deeply as he sucked in a deep breath, enjoying Thomas’s heat. The soft, undefined frame that Fox had when he first took off his shirt was now filling out. A shadow grew, at first just crevice between his two pecs, but then hooked under as his chest swelled outwards. Where once nothing sat, was a real handful. “This is hot right? I’m feeling hot right? You’re feeling hot right? Keep going F-f-f-fox.” It wasn’t just Fox’s chest that had filled out; his arms became massive, and powerful, and continued to hold Thomas in place as the two of them rocked together. His back spread out, becoming a shield across his shorter frame, his lats broadened out. Short and built, Fox could have been called Wolverine from all the muscle on his shorter frame. Thomas still relatively looked like an athlete going into college, far, far from where he once was. Fox reached down with his head, and nibbled at Thomas’s shoulders, chewing on the heat, before rubbing his face into the man’s neck infront of him. “Take anything I want…” Fox huffed a kiss into his neck. “Yeah bro, yeah… keep going… this is hot.” It was pretty impressive, the difference in size between them when they first started. In some ways, Thomas could have easily been twice Fox’s size before, but now, they’d probably stand ear to ear. But Fox already was wider… Broader. Thick sinuous muscles were packed across his body, Fox as he continued to push forward. His once lighter abs now lean and athletic, showing the edges of each ab as it pushed through, with a fresh treasure trail just below his belly button. His shoulders were wide enough to give his back a tall V shape. Fox put his arms around Thomas’s midsection, and pulled him back, showing his face to the camera as a now big meaty hand helped hold him. He dipped Thomas’s head back and put his mouth on his, and drank him deeply with deep mouth gulping kisses. Thomas was at full attention, and how could he not be? The three blue pills would make him ready to go for hours. But his head rested into the kiss, as shadows covered Fox’s thighs. With each thrust, Thomas just seemed a little more dwarfed by his partner. His head had to crane back a little more each time to kiss more, until it became impossible, and his mouth agape as he was being swallowed up… “I can… uh… uh… see myself doing a lot more gay stuff… uh… uh… in the future.” His tongue hung out of the side of his mouth, as Fox held onto his midsection, covering it up under his palms with just their size. Thomas huffed and looked into the camera dreamily. Now everything felt weird. Like everything was slanted. Nothing sat quite right. He knew what everything was, just its angle was weird, like he was kneeling. “Wow… man… 80 minutes already? You guys didn’t see it but I must’ve came…” Thomas pulled away from Fox, and for the first moment all that size from Thomas went. No longer the mousey, featureless dude that had been unwrapped before. A large, 6’6 athletically muscled guy. Large separated deltoids pinned his frame together, with two thick traps holding them in place. The same pleased smile with a hint of mischief still glimmered on this large bodybuilder’s form. Even his once buzzed hair now curled away from in ginger curls. “Aww man… my head has such a rush Fox, but you look… even better than when we first met I think? But… my head is swimming.” A lot of years at the gym had built him up, and about 80 minutes with Fox, Thomas was now a few inches taller than five feet, and could perhaps scrape 100 pounds. Thomas smiled a big toothy smile for the camera. His shaggy hair had gone and was now a light buzz against his head. “I might… do more gay stuff… I’m unsure about my feelings… I don’t know guys… anyhow… lot more content coming… make sure to subscribe… just going through something major right now… let’s get those numbers up… I love you guys.”

This is my first story. I intend on expanding it or continuing it. Let me know your thoughts. THE KID FREAK Oliver is just entering 12th grade, when he starts to notice some changes happening to him. Oliver had always been a tall, skinny, geeky kid with dark hair and green eyes. His mother is a Chemistry professor at a local college. She always encouraged her son to study, get good grades and perhaps be a professor one day. When Oliver wanted to play sports, she generally discouraged it. It’s the beginning of 12th grade and there’s a party at Candy Johnson’s house. Candy is a popular girl because she’s not just beautiful, she’s smart as well. Her parties always attracted the jocks and the nerds, a rare mix. Oliver is hanging with a couple of his World of Warcraft buddies, when an arm wrestling match breaks out between a couple of the big jocks at the kitchen table, Big Mike, from Oliver’s high school, and Brock, from a rival high school. They were both shirtless. Big Mike is 6’ tall, 230 lbs, but he’s not lean. He’s got brown hair and a scruffy face. He’s pretty thick. Brock is 6’1” tall and weighs 210 lbs with blonde hair and blue eyes but is pretty lean. The match starts, and Oliver is mesmerized by the test of strength. Both guys have pretty big arms, but Brock’s arms are more defined with a nice peak to his biceps. After about 30 seconds, Brock puts Big Mike down. “It’s getting easier to beat you, Fatty,” says Brock, with a big smile on his face. Big Mike responds, “The only reason you can beat me is because your father is a pro arm wrestler!” “He’s actually the Super Heavyweight World Champion!” says Brock. Brock catches Oliver staring at him. “You wanna arm wrestle, Nerd?” asks Brock. “Umm…no.” Oliver’s friends push him over to the kitchen table. Melvin, a nerdy, skinny kid with thick glasses, says, “C’mon Olly! You’re stronger than you think!” Brock puts his elbow on the table and wiggles his fingers. Oliver looks around at everyone staring and slowly puts his elbow on the table and locks hands with Brock. Big Mike starts them up. “Ready, Go!” Brock and Oliver start slow. Brock is smiling because he knows he has total control. He’s going against a skinny geek. Brock starts to put some real effort into putting Oliver down, but he’s noticing it’s much harder than expected. Big Mike says, “C’mon Brock, stop playin’! Put him down!” Brock pushes harder, but Oliver is not going down easily. Melvin pulls up the sleeve of Oliver’s oversized t-shirt to reveal a small, but ripped and peaked biceps. Big Mike’s eyes show surprise. “Holy shit! I didn’t expect that from Olly,” says Mike. Brock is sweating and now putting maximum effort into beating Oliver. After 45 seconds, he finally puts Oliver down. “Holy shit, Oliver! You’re a lot stronger than I expected. You put up a real fight!” exclaims Big Mike. Brock butts in, “No way, dude. You tired me out. I would destroy him fresh.” Big Mike pulls Oliver aside. “Have you ever lifted weights?” Oliver responds, “No. My mom never let me play any sports. She just wanted me to study.” “Bro, let me train you. You have incredible potential,” says Mike. “You really think so?” “Fuck yeah, I do. Somehow, you’ve built some muscle and strength from doing nothing. Let’s see what you can do if you actually lift weights and challenge yourself.” Oliver agrees to do it. *** Oliver shows up to the football gym with Brock, after all the players have left. “Let’s get some baseline measurements, Olly. Take your shirt off and jump on the scale.” Oliver looks around. “No one is here, buddy,” says Mike. Oliver takes off his shirt. “You’re quite skinny, but you don’t have an ounce of fat.” Oliver has a lot of veins showing as well. Oliver steps on the scale. “Okay, your height is 6 feet tall, and you weigh 155 pounds. Let’s measure your arm.” Oliver flexes his arm and a small, but ripped and peaked biceps appears. Mike measures it. “Wow, Olly, you’re not big, but your bicep is peaked and has great shape. It’s almost 15 inches.” “Really?” asks Oliver. “I swear. When you start to add size, I wouldn’t be surprised if you could be a serious bodybuilder.” “But I want to be strong, so people like Brock can’t pick on me or make fun of me anymore.” “Olly, there is something about you. I think you could be, not just a bodybuilder, but maybe one of the strongest bodybuilders.” “I’m just a nerd,” says Oliver. “I know it appears that way, but something in my gut is telling me different,” responds Mike. Mike takes a couple more measurements. Waist, 27 inches. Quads, 23 inches. Mike takes Oliver over to the bench press. “I’m going to test your strength in different exercises to get your baseline max in each exercise. Then we can measure again every few months.” Oliver agrees. After several warmup sets, Mike puts 155 lbs on the bar. “Anyone that can bench press their bodyweight for 10 reps is considered to be in good shape.” Oliver takes the bar and starts to bench press. He presses it 10 times very easily. “Yes! Too easy!” says Mike. Mike loads 225 lbs. Oliver bench presses it for 5 reps. Mike loads 275 lbs. Oliver bench presses it for 1 rep. “Holy shit, Olly! I knew it! I knew there was something about you.” Oliver is surprised. “Is this considered good?” “Bro, you’re skinny as fuck weighing 155 lbs, and you just bench pressed 275 lbs! And look at yourself in the mirror!” Oliver goes to the mirror. He’s never seen his muscles pumped. He’s sweaty and shiny. His chest is showing a little thickness and rips like he’s never seen before. Abs are shredded. He flexes his arms, and they appear bigger and more ripped. Oliver finishes the rest of the tests. He ended up squatting and deadlifting 305 lbs. He curled 120 lbs on a straight bar. Oliver and Mike agree to keep training together and to keep everything under wraps. No showing off, and Oliver will continue wearing baggy clothes to hide his gains until they decide to reveal them. *** Over the entire 12th grade and into the summer, Mike trained Oliver in secret, nearly every day. Mike and Oliver were shocked at Oliver’s gains. The main state college branch is in their hometown, and freshman year has started, so Mike takes down Oliver’s stats and tests his strength. Height, 6’. Weight, 180 lbs. Biceps, 18.5”. Waist, 28.5”. Quads, 25”. One rep maxes…Bench press, 495 lbs. Straight bar curls, 225 lbs. Squat, 725 lbs. Deadlift, 755 lbs. Oliver asks, “So, honestly, Mike, how do you think I’m doing?” Mike shakes his head in astonishment. “Bro, you’ve far exceeded my expectations. In one year, you look like a real competitive bodybuilder, but what’s blowing my mind, is your strength to weight ratio.” “What about it,” asks Oliver. “You totally don’t get it, do you,” asks Mike. Oliver has a blank stare. “Bro, at this rate, you’re going to be benching over 600 lbs in a few months and maybe you’ll be the lightest person to ever do that,” Mike exclaims. “Whoa…” Oliver is blown away. “I had no idea.” Mike nods his head. “Maybe it’s time for you to test your strength against others.” Oliver smiles. *** A couple months later, it’s time for Candy’s yearly party. Big Mike takes Oliver with him. It’s chilly outside, so Oliver wears a jacket. Oliver and Mike go into the house. It’s quite warm with all the kids partying. They go into the kitchen, where there are about 15 guys and girls. Mike grabs a beer for Oliver. Oliver takes a sip and looks at Mike. He processes the taste. He looks at Mike and smiles. “I never thought I would like beer, but it’s actually pretty good,” says Oliver. An hour goes by, and Mike and Oliver drink about 6 or 7 beers, when Oliver’s nerdy friends show up. “Oliver!” screams Melvin. A big smile comes across Oliver’s face. Melvin shakes Mike’s hand and then Oliver’s. “It’s been a year, since I’ve seen you, Olly,” says Melvin. “I know. Big Mike here has been training me, so I haven’t had a lot of time. I miss you guys.” “Yeah, I knew something was up, and when I just shook your hand, it’s so much bigger,” says Melvin. “Come here. I want you to feel something,” says Oliver. Mike smirks. Melvin comes in close. Oliver flexes his biceps by his side. His jacket arm fills out. Melvin’s eyes get big. He puts both hands around Oliver’s biceps. “Oh my God, Oliver!” Oliver’s heart rate increases with the exhilaration of his friend. “Your arms are massive and hard as a rock!” Oliver smiles and looks at Mike, who nods back at him. “I can’t wait to show you what I can do with this muscle,” says Oliver. Mike says, “It won’t be long. Look who showed up.” Brock walks into the kitchen with a couple friends, Jeff and Scott, both pretty big guys. He’s wearing a tank top and looking bigger and leaner than last year. Brock sees Big Mike. “Yo, Mike! You’re looking bigger than last year,” says Brock. “I am bigger,” replies Mike. “Not as big as this,” says Brock. Brock hits a double biceps shot showing off his 18-inch biceps. “That’s true, but your arms aren’t as big as Olly’s,” says Mike. “What? The nerd I beat last year?” asks Brock. “I wouldn’t call him that anymore, Brock. Show him, Olly.” Oliver steps forward and looks at Mike. Mike nods his head. Oliver is sweating profusely from wearing the jacket in the hot house. Oliver slowly unzippers his jacket. First a glimpse of his chest and then his abs. He removes his jacket and a few audible gasps come from some of the kids in the kitchen. “Oh my God,” says Melvin. Oliver is standing there, dripping sweat, pumped and totally ripped with thick slabs of muscle and not an ounce of fat. Even Mike is shocked. “Show the arm wrestler some real arms, Olly,” says Mike. Oliver hits a front double biceps shot. His arms are ripped with huge peaks, hitting 19.5” with a thick biceps vein. “You may be big, but I’ll destroy you in arm wrestling. I just won the state championship,” exclaims Brock. Mike says, “Let’s do this!” Brock takes a seat at the end of the long kitchen table as does Oliver. They put their elbows on the table and clasp hands. Some of the kids start recording video with their phones. Jeff starts them off. “Ready, Go!” Brock screams and hits first bringing Oliver’s arm down about halfway. Brock laughs. Brock leans in with his shoulder putting all his weight into it to put down Oliver. Mike screams, “C’mon Olly! Don’t let him intimidate you! You’re stronger than he is! Get angry!” Oliver screams and starts pulling hard. His biceps vein starts to pop thicker, and the cords of muscle of his biceps start to increase in prominence. Oliver bends his wrist activating his huge forearms, pumping bigger. Oliver’s biceps start to peak larger as he starts to move Brock’s arm up. “Jesus, look at the kid’s arm,” says one of the guys watching. Oliver pulls his arm almost back to the center position, when Brock grabs the side of the table with his free arm. He screams and using all his strength pulls Oliver back down to the halfway point again. Mike screams, “Brock is cheating grabbing onto the side of the table!” Jeff responds, “No way, bro. Arm wrestling tables have pegs on the side to grab, so it’s fair.” “Okay, but the table is too long for Olly to grab the side with his hand,” retorts Mike. Jeff just shrugs his shoulders. Melvin screams, “C’mon Olly. Show me that muscle, that strength!” Oliver grunts loud and pulls hard, but he can’t move Brock. “No way you can pull through this!” Brock laughs. Oliver screams and pulls with everything he has. At first, he doesn’t move, but after a few seconds, Oliver starts to move Brock’s arm back. Jeff screams, “No way! He’s doin’ it!” Scott adds, “Yeah, and he’s doing it with just one arm!” Oliver’s skin is paper-thin showing all the muscle fibers in his cannonball shoulder and his biceps and triceps, rippling. His biceps is peaking extremely high as he gets back to the center. Melvin says, “Jesus, his arm is more massive than Brock’s!” Brock gets angry and screams trying to pull Oliver back down, but Oliver is ready for it and holds him there. Brock tries several times but can’t break through. Oliver screams and starts to pull Brock down. Oliver’s abs and chest are completely shredded as those muscle groups help with the effort. Oliver’s biceps vein is pumping huge amounts of blood to the muscle as it continues overpowering Brock’s efforts. Brock screams and tries will all his strength to stop Oliver, but Oliver’s ripped muscle is just too strong. “Yeah,” screams Oliver as he continues pushing Brock’s arm down. Oliver stops his assault with Brock’s wrist three inches above the table. He looks at Brock. Oliver shifts his weight and arm position so that he’s just using his triceps. “Give me everything you have,” says Oliver. Brock screams, trying to pull with everything he has. Oliver’s triceps explodes as he takes everything Brock has and overpowers him, slowly pushing Brock’s arm down. Scott says, “Holy shit! The kid’s just using his triceps to overpower Brock! That’s just raw strength!” A few seconds later, Oliver pushes Brock’s arm to the table. Mike screams, “Yeah! You did it, Olly!” “You cheated! You had to have cheated,” said Brock. “Bullshit! I even let you use both hands,” screams Oliver. Brock looks around the room. “You all better delete those videos before I beat your asses.” One of the kids says, “Sorry man. I think that kid Joey was live on Instagram.” “I’m gonna kill him,” Brock screams. Brock runs out looking for Joey. Oliver turns to Mike, “I was acting.” “What,” asks Mike. Oliver responds, “Yeah, he was very easy to arm wrestle. I just screamed for effect.” Mike smiles. “Son of a bitch! You’re getting too strong!” Mike and Oliver grab another beer. All of a sudden, there is a commotion out back by the pool. Mike and Oliver walk out to see what’s going on. Everyone is surrounding some big man, trying to get autographs. “Holy shit! It’s Grip Master,” screams Mike. “Who’s that,” asks Oliver. “He’s a huge professional wrestler that beats his opponents in unbreakable wrestling holds,” Mike responds. “Candy’s older brother is friends with him,” he adds. As Mike and Oliver approach, some of the kids gasp as they see Oliver, pumped and sweaty from his arm wrestling match. Grip Master, who has a shaved head and is 6’5” tall and weighs 310 lbs, looks over to see what’s going on. Mike says, “Hey Grip Master! Huge fan! Could we get a pic with you?” Grip Master responds, “Well, shit, this guy is going to out angle me.” Mike says, “Naa, he’s a kid. He doesn’t even watch pro wrestling.” Grip Master asks, “Wait, he’s a kid?” “Yeah, he’s just 19 years old, but he’s a KID FREAK.” “How big are you,” asks Grip Master. “I’m 6 feet tall and weigh 205 lbs,” says Oliver. “You look much bigger than that,” says Grip Master. Mike adds, “What’s freaky is his strength. The kid bench pressed 585 lbs yesterday in his workout, and he did it easily.” Grip Master gives a skeptical look and says, “I seriously doubt that. I can bench press 680 lbs, and I’m much bigger than him. No one can bench press 585 lbs at his bodyweight.” Mike responds, “It’s true! If we had a bench press here, Olly could show you.” Mike thinks for a second. “What if he could break one of your unbreakable wrestling holds? Would you believe him if he could do that?” Mike asks. “Yeah, but we all know that’s impossible,” Grip Master responds. Oliver adds, “Please, let’s try it. I want to test my strength against you.” Grip Master starts to walk around Oliver, slowly, eyeing him up and down. Mike starts recording video on his phone. Grip Master slips behind Oliver and wraps his arms around Oliver’s torso from the back, putting him into a reverse bearhug, pinning his arms by his side. Oliver winces in pain. All the kids gather around to watch this test of strength. Some are recording it with their phones. Grip Master lifts Oliver off the ground, shaking him and crushing him. Oliver tries to pull his right arm up. His shoulder is ripped and pumped as he puts forth the effort. His arm starts to slowly slide up, especially will all the slippery sweat. He frees his right arm and starts on his left arm, pulling up. Grip Master is tightening his hold, but Oliver is strong enough with the slickness of his body to pull out his left arm. Now Grip Master tightens his hold enough to push the air out of Oliver’s lungs. He starts coughing. “C’mon Oliver! You have to break his grip,” screams Mike. “No way he can do that,” screams one of the kids. Oliver breaths in deep and screams, hitting a massive front double biceps shot. Gasps from the crowd as they are in awe of his massive and shredded physique. Grip Master’s hold is that he’s grabbing his right wrist with his left hand. Oliver crisscrosses his hands, grabbing Grip Master’s right fist with his right hand and grabbing Grip Master’s left hand with his left hand. Oliver screams and starts pulling apart as if he’s trying to bend the bars of a steel cage. His biceps explode in size with thick biceps veins pumping massive amounts of blood to his incredible ripped muscle. Every muscle fiber can be seen. His lats expand with the massive effort being put forth. Grip Master is holding the grip in place. “Nice try kid, but you’re going to have to try harder than that,” says Grip Master. Oliver screams and pulls harder. His biceps seem to be getting larger with the effort as well as his forearms. Sweat is dripping down his heaving chest and his chiseled abs. Grip Master seems to be starting to labor a bit. One of the kids says, “This kid is ripped as fuck, and he’s making Grip Master work!” Hearing that excites Oliver. Oliver screams again increasing the pressure. Grip Master starts to breath heavy. Another kid says, “This kid’s arms are huge.” “Yeah, and his strength is insane,” responds another. Oliver goes nuts after hearing that, screams and pulls with everything he has. His ripped biceps are nearly exploding with every muscle fiber showing through his paper-thin skin. His shoulders are huge, round and ripped. Abs are shredded. Oliver looks down at his own body, in awe of his incredible strength. He slowly starts to pull apart Grip Master’s unbreakable reverse bearhug. “Yeah,” Oliver screams as he feels himself overpower the strongest grip in professional wrestling. Oliver can hear the kids… “Impossible,” “No way,” “He’s breaking free!” Oliver slowly pulls his hands apart. Grip Master screams and, using his incredible chest strength, stops Oliver. Grip Master tries to close it back up, but somehow Oliver’s arms and shoulders begin to overpower Grip Master’s incredible chest strength, continuing to pull apart his arms. Grip Master falls backwards, staring at his hands in shock. He then looks back at Oliver as Oliver turns back around. Oliver screams and hits a front double biceps, with biceps that must be over 20 inches, pumped. Mike walks over to Oliver. “Believe it now, Grip Master,” asks Mike. “Hell yeah. I’ve never felt that much power before from anyone!” Oliver smiles. *** Another year goes by. Mike continues training Oliver in secret. Somehow Oliver continues making incredible gains in size and strength. Oliver’s latest stats are: Height, 6’. Bodyweight, 230 lbs. Biceps, 22 inches. Waist, 30 inches. Quads, 28 inches. Oliver’s strength level is incredible with a 685 lb bench press, 275 lb strict straight bar curl, 960 lb squat and a 980 lb deadlift. His bodyfat is as low as it has ever been. “How would you like to test your physique against bodybuilders and your strength against arm wrestlers, powerlifters and strongmen, all in the same day,” asks Mike. “Hell, yeah, but where can we do this?” “At the Arnold Classic this weekend. It’s two months away. Let’s see what kind of gains you can make until then.” responds Mike. Oliver says, “Let’s do it!” *** Mike and Oliver are in their hotel room at the Arnold Classic. They are lying in their beds resting. “You awake,” asks Oliver. “Yeah, what’s up?” “My mom hasn’t really spoken with me much about my gains. I thought it was weird because she never encouraged me to do any athletic or physical activity. It was always about studying. So, I asked her if she was shocked by my transformation,” says Oliver. “Okay,” responds Mike Oliver continues, “She says she wasn’t. She met my father in a one night stand. She never even got a picture with him, but he was an incredibly built man with muscles everywhere and no bodyfat. What made her lust for him was an incredible feat of strength he performed.” “What did he do?” “A car accident happened in front of a gym. He was training after hours. My mom was waiting for a taxi, when a car went out of control up onto the sidewalk and hit and ran over an old man. His leg was pinned under the tire. Without thinking, my father put his hands under the passenger side of the car, screamed and lifted the side of the car up. She pulled the old man out from under the car.” “Holy shit,” exclaims Mike. “Yeah, that night they went to dinner together and had sex. He left the country never to be seen or heard from again. She suspects that he was likely married and ashamed. She never told me all this because she didn’t want me to go down that path.” “Oh man. I’m really sorry to hear that.” “Here’s the interesting part. My mom asked how he got so strong. He told her the usual stuff about lifting heavy weights, but he also told her he had a rare genetic mutation that not only allowed for good muscle growth but allowed for the muscle to contract extremely hard. His nervous system was also somehow enhanced. A year after I was born, she got me tested, and I have the same condition as my father.” “Wow! This is incredible. I wonder what your limits are,” said Mike. “I don’t know, but I’m going to push myself to get stronger than any human alive,” exclaims Oliver. “Hell yeah!” Mike jumps out of bed. “Since we’re going to hit bodybuilding first, let’s put on your last coat of tan,” says Mike. Over the next hour, Mike paints Oliver’s skin with the bodybuilding posing tan making his skin dark, which shows the cuts and rips in Oliver’s muscle much better, especially under bright lights. Mike gives him a pair of posing trunks to wear under his clothes. Mike and Oliver enter the ballroom where they have bodybuilding. The press conference just ended, and they’re getting some photos and videos of Rob Coulson, last year’s Arnold Amateur champion, who is competing at the pro bodybuilding competition. He’s considered to have some of the best arms in bodybuilding. He’s a top contender to win. Off to the side of the stage, Mike has Oliver strip off his clothes. Mike quickly puts a light coating of oil on Oliver’s body. While Rob is hitting some poses, Oliver jumps up onto the stage from the ground, which grabs everyone’s attention, since the stage is very high. A couple whistles from the small crowd still there with photographers. Rob laughs at Oliver jumping up on stage. He hits a front double biceps shot. Oliver stands next to him and hits a front double biceps shot. A few audible gasps from the crowd. Oliver’s arms appear to be bigger than Rob’s arms. Not only that, he’s so ripped that you can see every muscle fiber in his arms, chest and completely shredded quads. Rob’s girlfriend screams for him to do his money shot, his back double biceps. So, Rob and Oliver turn around. They both hit their back double biceps shot. “Oh my God,” says Rob’s girlfriend. Oliver has him beat on his best shot, with bigger, more peaked arms, larger and more ripped shoulders and a much wider back. Oliver’s hamstrings are also bigger. One of the photographers says, “Who’s this kid? He’s destroying Rob.” Mike steps up and says, “His name is Oliver. He’s 20 years old and just getting into bodybuilding.” The photographer screams, “20? Are you fucking kidding me?” Someone screams, “Hit a most muscular shot!” Rob and Oliver turn around and both hit a most muscular crab shot. Oliver is matching Rob’s size from a muscular standpoint, but he’s much more shredded. Oliver’s chest is completely ripped with monster shoulders and traps. The biceps veins are nearly exploding they’re so thick. Abs are like steel armor. Oliver’s quad sweep is also wider and denser than Rob’s. “This kid could have won the show,” exclaims one photographer. Rob gets angry and walks off the stage. Mike gives the photographers contact info for Oliver. Oliver jumps off the stage and puts on a pair of shorts over his posing trunks. They exit the ballroom and go to the main wing of the expo where they have all the other events and activities. About as soon as they enter the expo hall, a bunch of people come over wanting pictures with Oliver. He’s shirtless and wearing shorts that show off his massive quads and calves. They make their way to the Animal Cage where they are starting a bench press competition. Mike registered Oliver for the contest. There are 10 competitors, most are big and fat, but powerful men. Oliver weighs in at 245 lbs and is easily the leanest competitor. The biggest and strongest competitor, nicknamed Grizzly, is 6’5” tall and weighs in at 330 lbs. Grizzly says, “Boy. You a bodybuilder? Cause you gonna git hurt here. This ain’t no play time in the gym. This is big boy weight.” He laughs. Everyone submits on written cards what their first lift will be. The announcer gets on the microphone. The announcer says, “Okay folks. We’re getting started with 405 pounds on the bar, and we’ll finish with Grizzly with 675 pounds…wait…there must be a mistake here. Who is Oliver? Oliver raises his hand and says, “Me sir!” Someone in the crowd says, “Holy shit! He’s jacked as fuck!” Announcer asks, “You’re opening with 685 pounds? Is that a mistake? Because no one has ever opened with that much weight, and honestly son, you don’t look like you could do something like that.” Oliver responds, “Yes sir. 685 pounds is my opener. I want to make sure I get the lift, so I can go heavier.” Announcer asks, “So this is easy for you?” Oliver says, “Yes sir.” Grizzly yells, “I smell bullshit! No one can beat me in bench press, especially not some bodybuilder!” The competition starts, and Oliver warms up. They get to Grizzly, and he presses 675 lbs, with a huge effort. The staff loads 685 lbs onto the bar. Oliver lays down on the bench. The crowd quiets down to watch. Oliver grabs the bar. Announcer asks, “You want a liftoff young man?” Oliver says, “No sir. I got this.” Oliver lifts the bar off the rack. He slowly lowers the weight and touches his chest, holding the bar there.” Judge says, “Press!” Oliver pushes the bar back with incredible power. It flies up. Judge says, “Rack it!” Oliver puts the bar back. He gets a good lift signal. He jumps up and hits a most muscular shot. He’s sweating profusely. The crowd goes wild. Grizzly throws down his belt. Everyone submits their lifts. Oliver is doing 720 lbs. Grizzly finds out and puts 725 lbs for himself. Fifteen minutes later, 720 lbs is loaded onto the bar. Oliver sits on the end of the bench and flexes his pecs several times. His chest is shredded and sweaty. Mike comes over to give him a liftoff. Mike says, “You got this Olly. Let’s put this guy out of his misery.” Oliver screams, “Hell yeah!” He lays on the bench. He nods his head for Mike to give the liftoff. He lowers the bar and holds it on his chest. Judge says, “Press!” Oliver screams and presses the bar extremely hard. The bar goes up steadily and fairly quickly. Judge says, “Rack!” Oliver racks it and get a good lift signal. He jumps up and hits a double biceps shot. Someone from the crowd, “Jesus, this kid is an animal.” Grizzly is up. 725 lbs is loaded onto the bar. He sits down. He sniffs a bottle of smelling salts, throws it aside and screams. He lays down. His spotter gives him a liftoff. He lowers the bar and stops on his chest. Judge says, “Press!” Grizzy screams and pushes. The bar goes up very slowly. It gets stuck halfway up, but after a couple seconds, he screams and is able to slowly push through to a lockout. Judge says, “Rack!” Grizzy racks it. He sits up, and his nose is bleeding. He stands up and then stumbles. A couple staff help him to his chair. Everyone is submitting final lifts, except for Grizzy. He’s going to stick with his last lift of 725 lbs. Mike says, “That last lift went up really fast. I don’t know…you think you could do 750, or is that just too much?” Oliver thinks for a couple seconds and says, “Fuck it! Let’s do it!” After 15 minutes, it’s Oliver’s turn. 750 lbs is loaded onto the bar. Announcer says, “This kid has already broken records today. Now he’s going for 750 lbs, more than three times his bodyweight. He’s completely ripped up, and he’s only 20 years old!” The crowd cheers. Oliver sits on the bench, flexing his chest and arms. He lays back and screams. Mike comes over and grabs the bar. Oliver nods his head for the liftoff. Mike does it and steps back. Oliver takes a deep breath and lowers the bar. He touches and holds the bar on his chest. The judge waits an extra seconds before giving the signal. Judge says, “Press!” Oliver screams and starts pressing. His chest is pumped and shredded. His triceps are popping out and ripped. The bar slowly goes up. It slows down near the halfway mark. Oliver screams again using his chest power to press the bar high and higher, until he finally locks out. Judge says, “Rack!” Oliver racks the bar. The good lift signal is given. The crowd erupts in cheers. Grizzly walks out. Oliver hits a huge most muscular shot. Mike comes over and gives Oliver a hug. Mike says, “Bro! I’m blown away!” “Me too man! I can’t believe it! It’s like nothing can stop me!” Mike says, “Maybe nothing or no one can!” They exit the cage and go onto the next event. Mike says, “I think you’re going to like this next event. It will really test your strength like nothing has before.” Mike and Oliver enter the Bending Arena. Oliver’s eyes light up. There are all kinds of things to bend here, including nails, thick bolts, tools, including wrenches. They have steel bars to bend like on World’s Strongest Man from the 1980s and 1990s. A big sign says… “WHOEVER BENDS THE THICKEST BAR TODAY, WINS A FREE SET OF CAPTAINS OF CRUSH GRIPPERS!” Mike and Oliver go over to the steel bars. Jake is managing the challenge. “Wow, you must be a bodybuilder,” says Jake. Oliver says, “Well, I…” “He’s really a power bodybuilder,” says Mike. Oliver smiles. Jake says, “Well, you’re in the right spot if you want to test you strength.” Oliver asks, “What are the Captains of Crush Grippers?” Jake breaks out all the grippers ranging from Captains of Crush (CoC) 1 all the way to a 4. Jake says, “They range in strength from level 1 to level 4. Only 5 people in the world have ever closed a number 4.” Oliver says, “I have to try that!” Jake says, “Okay big boy, let’s start you off with a number 2. Most bodybuilders can barely do that.” Oliver takes the number 2 and puts it in his hand. He closes it, and his forearms pump up. He closes it for reps. After he hits 20 reps, Jake stops him. Oliver says, “I’ll take the number 4 now.” “I don’t think you should jump up to it right away, but here you go.” A crowd starts to form to watch Oliver. Jake records video using his phone. Oliver places the number 4 gripper in his hand. He takes a couple deep breaths, screams and squeezes as hard as he can. He closes it. Jake screams, “Holy shit!” Oliver lets it open and closes it again. And again. Veins are snaking in his forearm pumping it close to 19 inches thick. And then he holds the gripper closed for 20 seconds. Jake screams, “Yeah! What a pump!” Mike says, “Bro, your forearm is massive!” Oliver flexes his forearm for the camera. Oliver says, “Let me bend some bars.” Jake says, “Normally I’d start someone with a 1/2” thick steel bar to try, but you’re much stronger than the guys that usually come over here. Here’s a 5/8” thick steel bar that’s 4 feet long.” Oliver grabs the bar and holds it at either end. Jake continues, “So before you try anything, let me tell you how to properly bend…Wait!” Oliver starts pushing on the bar, trying to bend it. Jake says, “Hold on man! You can’t bend it in front of your body like that. It’s impossible!” A guy from the crowd says, “Have you ever seen anyone so ripped?” Oliver screams. His chest and abdominals are shredded. His biceps are popping. Another scream and slowly the bar starts to bend. Jake says, “No way!” Oliver continues pouring his strength into bending the bar in front of his body. After a few seconds, the ends of the bar touch. Oliver drops the bar and hits a double biceps shot, screaming, “Yeah!” Jake says, “Holy shit! I did not expect that.” Mike asks, “What’s your thickest bar?” Jake responds, “Well, it’s called the Ultimate, and it’s not really meant to be bent.” Mike asks, “What do you mean?” Jake says, “Well, it’s 1 and 1/4 inch thick cold-rolled steel at 5 feet in long. It’s believed that no one can really bend it. That’s why there is a cash prize for anyone that can bend it just with their upper body and make the ends touch, wins $100,000. That’s just impossible.” Oliver’s eyes get big and says, “I gotta fuckin’ try it!” Jake says, “You can try it, but no one has even come close to making the tiniest of bends in the bar. It’s still perfectly straight.” Mike asks, “How quickly would Oliver get the money if he does it?” “It’s an instant bank transfer,” says Jake. Jake gives Oliver the bar and a thick bath towel. Jake says, “This time you won’t be able to bend it in front of your body.” “So, what do I do?” Jake responds, “Fold the towel and put it on your head for protection. Put the bar on top, using your head as a leverage point. Bend the bar down as far as you can, then put it behind your neck and bend it until the ends touch.” Oliver folds the towel and puts it on his head. The crowd is getting really big now. Oliver places the bar on top and grabs the ends of the bar with his hands. Mike screams, “You can do this Olly! No one has ever bent a bar this thick! You’re gonna do it in front of all these people, not as some fat strongman, but as a ripped-up power bodybuilder. No one has ever seen anything like this before! You can do it!” Oliver takes a couple deep breaths and screams. He pulls down hard, but the bar doesn’t budge. He takes a break. Jake says, “I told you bro. You can’t do it. No one can.” Oliver goes nuts and screams and pulls with everything he has. His biceps explode into huge ripped peaks. His lats flare out wider than ever. His abdominals contract as hard as they ever have before. At first, nothing happens, but after a few seconds, a squeal comes from the bar. The bar starts to slowly bend under Oliver’s strength. His lats are contracting so hard, you can see every muscle fiber. Oliver screams again pouring all of his strength into the task of bending the thickest steel ever bent by a human. The crowd starts talking… “Oh my God!” “He’s doing it!” “He’s fuckin’ ripped up!” “That’s just raw strength!” Jake is in complete awe of Oliver’s ripped strength. Jake says, “He’s bending the unbendable!” Oliver bends the bar halfway and stops for a second. He screams again and continues bending the bar until it’s about a 90-degree angle and can’t bend further on his head. He’s sweating profusely. He drops the bar behind his neck. Using his chest, he tries to crush the bar in, but it’s still a bit too wide for that. Oliver tilts the bar behind his neck, so that the end in his left hand is now down by his hip. The end of the bar in his right hand is above his head. Bracing the left end against his body, Oliver screams and pulls down on the bar with his right hand. Someone from the crowd says, “Jesus Christ! Look at the kid’s arm!” Oliver’s 22-inch right biceps explodes into ripped glory pulling the bar down, dripping sweat. His abs contracting hard to stabilize his core. Oliver screams again! The impossible to bend cold-rolled steel tries to resist, but Oliver’s biceps is just too strong, bending it more and more. “Yeah,” screams Oliver as he dominates the bar. Now the bar is at a 45-degree angle. Oliver centers the bar behind his neck, with his arms on both ends of the bar. Oliver screams and pushes the ends of the bar towards each other. His chest and abs are ripped to the bone. His chest is heaving and pumping blood as massive amounts of strength pass through to his hands. Oliver screaming and pushing slowly presses the ends of the bar towards each other. After several seconds, the ends touch. Jake, in utter disbelief, faints for a moment. Oliver lifts the bar from his neck and throws it to the ground. He hits a huge most muscular shot as the crowd cheers and then a huge front double biceps shot. Mike then hugs him, and Oliver hugs him back. People in the crowd come up to congratulate him and get pictures. Finally, Oliver gets a bank transfer from Jake’s company. Mike says, “It looks like we just have one more stop.” Oliver responds, “Arm wrestling!” Mike nods his head. Oliver adds, “You think Brock’s Dad, Titus, will accept my challenge?” “Well, he is the Super Heavyweight World Champion, so he may not take you too seriously. You’re only 20 years old, and arm wrestlers always think they can destroy bodybuilders. But, you do have some money that you can put up to sweeten the pot.” Oliver says, “Yes!” On the way to the arm wrestling competition, they stop to get some burgers and refuel. Oliver eats six double cheeseburgers and six orders of fries. They finally arrive at the arm wrestling contest. It doesn’t start for another 15 minutes. Mike speaks with the promoters to try to get Titus to take on Oliver. At first the promoters said no because Oliver hasn’t competed and earned a spot to challenge Titus. When Mike offered Titus $20,000 to take the match, he accepted. Announcer says, “It’s time to get started! Up first is a best of three supermatch between your current super heavyweight world champion, 6’3” tall, 350 pounds of solid mass, with 23-inch arms and 20-inch forearms…Titus!” Cheers from the crowd as Titus walks out. The announcer continues, “His challenger is a complete unknown but considers himself a power bodybuilder, 6’ tall weighing 245 pounds of completely ripped muscle, 22-inch arms and only 20 years old…Oliver! The usual audible gasps form the audience. Brock looks up in shock. Brock says, “No way! Oliver is challenging my Dad? Jesus, he really packed on some size.” Titus and Oliver both come to the table. Oliver asks for his arms to be measured since it’s been a couple months, and he still has a pump from the bar bending. The referee measures Oliver’s arm. The referee says, “It looks to be…22 and 3/4…wait…23 inches…matching Titus!” “Looks so much bigger than Titus,” says one guy from the crowd. His friend responds, “Yeah, cause he’s got a huge peak and the muscle is completely ripped up.” Oliver smiles. The referee measures his forearm. “The bodybuilder’s forearm is 19.5”, just under Titus!” Oliver smiles and nods his head. Titus says, “You think cause you have a little muscle you can challenge me? Kid, I have over 20 years of experience in arm wrestling. I know every technique and trick in the book, and I haven’t lost a match in over three years! No way you can beat this arm!” With that, Titus flexes his right arm to cheers in the crowd. Oliver responds, “I’m tired of your son bullying kids, so I’m going to teach you a lesson. I don’t need any arm wrestling techniques or tricks. I’m gonna beat you with raw strength!” Oliver hits a double biceps shot, totally ripped with a light coat of sweat for shine. The crowd starts talking… “That kid’s arms are bigger than Titus’!” “Have you ever seen someone so shredded?” Titus gets mad and slams his elbow on the pad. Oliver grips up and squeezes Titus’ hand. Titus tries to pull out, but Oliver’s grip is too strong. Finally, Oliver lets Titus slip out and re-grip. The referee starts the match. “Ready, Go!” Titus hits hard, but Oliver holds him. Titus hits harder and pulls Oliver’s arm down just a bit off center. The crowd doesn’t know how to react. “That kid is holding back Titus!” Titus screams and goes all out trying to pull down Oliver. Oliver does go down a little until Oliver screams and starts pulling with everything he has. He stops Titus and starts to pull Titus back up. Oliver’s arm is incredibly shredded showing every muscle fiber working. His chest is ripped and sweat is pouring off his body. “Yeah,” Oliver screams. Oliver gets their arms back to the center starting position. Brock screams, “Arm Lock! Dad, use your Arm Lock!” Titus shifts his weight and his arm position, essentially locking his arm into place, making it very difficult, if not impossible to move. Oliver is confused. He’s not sure how Titus is blocking him from pulling his arm down. “Yes, just hold him there, Dad! He’ll burn out soon,” screams Brock. Another grunt from Oliver, but he can’t move Titus. Titus smiles. “No one has ever broken through my Arm Lock, kid. Not even the strongest arm wrestlers,” says Titus. “I’m a power bodybuilder, and this ripped muscle is gonna bust through your Arm Lock.” Titus laughs. Oliver screams and pulls harder. His biceps seeming to pump larger, and his forearms expand with corded muscle trying to push through his paper-thin skin. Titus’ smile goes away. “This kid has some serious muscle,” says someone from the crowd. “Yeah, his biceps are really peaked, but I don’t know if he has the strength to pull through Titus’ Arm Lock. It’s impossible,” says his friend. Oliver hears this talk from the crowd. It gets him very excited. Oliver screams again and pulls with everything he has. His chest is shredded and pouring on the strength that can bench press well over 700 lbs. His biceps and forearms that curl nearly 300 lbs are increasing the pressure that no one else can create. “You can do it,” screams Mike. “This kid…I’ve never seen so much ripped muscle,” exclaims someone from the crowd. Oliver very slightly moves Titus’ arm. Titus’ eyes are wide, and his head is shaking with the effort to contain Oliver. “Fuck yeah,” screams Oliver. “Impossible,” says Brock. Oliver looks over at Brock. Brock is in shock. The crowd starts talking… “The kid bodybuilder…he’s doin’ it!” “That’s pure, raw strength!” Titus screams, trying to stop Oliver, and he does for a second, but the kid bodybuilder’s strength is building. His ripped muscle contracting harder. Oliver starts pushing through the Arm Lock with every muscle group engaged including his back with crazy striations, his biceps with impossible peaks and his chest just ripped to the bone with massive forearms at the lead. As Oliver is pulling Titus’ arm down, closer and closer to the pin pad, Titus does a King’s Move, dropping his body below the table and stretching out the arm to make it impossible to pin due to the angle of the arm. Brock screams, “Good move, Dad! Hold him there and burn him out!” Oliver continues pulling Titus’ arm, but it’s completely stuck. It’s even harder than his Arm Lock. After 10 seconds of pulling, Oliver isn’t making progress. Mike screams, “Olly, do a shoulder press! Stand up tall and use your shoulder and bodyweight to press his arm down!” Oliver stands up tall and starts pushing with just his triceps. He doesn’t lean over and use his shoulder and bodyweight. Titus is smiling. He’s in a good position. The King’s Move doesn’t use much energy. It’s all about leverage, angles and the arm’s natural straight arm end range. “No one can push through my King’s Move, kid! It’s ten times harder than my Arm Lock!” Oliver grunts loud and pushes hard. Titus’ arm is like hardened steel. It’s just not moving. “You can’t do it, Olly!,” screams Brock. Oliver screams and starts pushing with everything he has! His triceps shows every cross-striation. His shoulders are shredded. His biceps vein looks massive and mean. His chest is heaving with ripped abs and sweat pouring off him. Titus’ smile turns to gritting teeth. “If this kid’s ripped muscle pushes through Titus’ King’s Move, it will send me over the edge,” whispers a guy to his friend right near the table. This excites Oliver even more, somehow allowing him to push even harder. His ripped triceps start to very slowly move Titus’ arm towards the pin pad. Oliver looks down at the guy watching and sees his eyes getting bigger and the guy says, “Oh my God! He’s doing it!” The guy starts shaking. Oliver screams again, pushing more! His triceps is exploding. The crowd starts speaking again… “This kid’s strength is insane! He’s doing it with just his triceps!” “This kid bodybuilder is beating the strongest arm wrestler at his own sport!” “No! You can’t!” mutters Titus. A cracking sound starts to come from Titus’ arm. “Stop! You’re going to break his arm,” screams Brock. Oliver backs off. “Want to give up, so I can spare your arm,” Oliver asks. “I’ll never give up!” “Good, cause I wanna see how strong these triceps are,” yells Oliver. Oliver looks directly at Brock. He screams and pushes again. His ripped triceps is monstrously huge. Titus’ arm moves slightly. It’s getting stuck as the bones near the elbow start touching. Titus’ arm is nearly at the pin pad, but now it’s completely stuck. “You think he could break his arm,” someone asks from the crowd. “No man. I don’t think it’s possible,” replies another. Oliver gets excited and goes nuts! He screams, and his triceps responds somehow pushing harder. “Yeah, I’m gonna do it,” screams Oliver. Titus starts to scream. His arm starts to slightly bend under the strength of Oliver’s triceps. Oliver looks at Brock. Brock has his hands on his head in disbelief. Oliver screams again pushing as hard as he can with just his triceps strength. About three seconds later, a grinding sound and then…SNAP! Oliver breaks Titus’ arm. Titus’ hand hits the pin pad. He pulls his arm away grabbing it for support. Oliver slams his fist down onto the pad, crushing the pad and bending one of the thick steel supports holding the table up. He then hits a double biceps shot at Titus. Incredibly ripped biceps explode to over 24 inches with high peaks. Lats flare out like wings. Abs shredded. Sweat pouring off his body giving it a beautiful shine. Cheers and shock coming from the crowd. Mike gives Oliver a hug. “I knew you could do it, Olly,” says Mike. “I couldn’t have done all this without you, Big Mike,” responds Oliver. “Maybe you should call me, Little Mike, from now on.” They laugh. Brock runs over to his Dad and takes him away for medical attention. Someone from the crowd says, “Bro, you broke the table.” Oliver looks at it. There are four steel support bars that run from the base on the floor to the tabletop. One of them is bent inwards. Oliver bends down and grabs the bent support bar at the middle of the bend with his left hand. His other hand is on the tabletop for support. Oliver grunts and starts pulling. His biceps and forearm explode as does his lat. Very slowly, Oliver starts bending the support bar straight. “No way! This kid is bending fucking steel,” says one guy from the crowd. “Jesus, his arm strength is off the scale!” Oliver completely straightens the support bar. He then hits another double biceps shot at the crowd. The crowd cheers. The crowd comes over to Oliver for pictures and autographs. Oliver looks at Mike. “Let’s keep doing this shit! I want to see how strong I can get!” Mike responds, “Hell yeah kid!” THE END

This is another story I wrote last year as part of a collaboration with @lionlouis. He asked for volunteers to write captions or stories for the illustrations he made for a muscle growth Advent calendar. The illustrations were provided as story prompts, and a few of us wrote whatever we wanted to fit the pictures. This is what I wrote for the illustration above. Good Things and Small Packages by Fallen Away After a full day of Christmas shopping for each other, Philippe was disappointed to see that Jean Pierre, his boyfriend of nine months, had only one tiny package. He seemed pleased with himself. Or was he just happy to see all the bags Philippe was carrying? Philippe knew that Jean Pierre, a personal trainer, didn’t make nearly as much money as he did as a wealth advisor for a private investment firm. He was always quick to say, “His income doesn’t bother me at all” when his friends inquired. But he was thinking about it now. Philippe had to admit that he went overboard buying gifts for Jean Pierre. This was their first Christmas together and he wanted to show his boyfriend how much he appreciated him… or loved him. The fact is, he was totally infatuated with the guy, and he felt a little embarrassed about that. His friends teased him about being a sugar daddy with a boy toy. He laughed, but it bothered him. At thirty, he was only four years older than Jean Pierre, although JP looked older than his twenty-six years because he was so… large and… masculine. Jean Pierre was a wonderful man, very kind and thoughtful. They had similar interests and never ran out of things to talk about. Time flew by when they were together. But Philippe often wondered if a handsome hunk like that could really be satisfied with a lanky, average guy like him. So he bought him lots of nice presents, as if that would keep him around. They went to a party hosted by one of his friends on Christmas Eve, and Jean Pierre stayed at Philippe’s apartment that night. In the morning, Philippe woke up alone next to the deep impression his boyfriend had left in the mattress. After a moment’s anxiety about being abandoned, he heard sounds coming from the kitchen. He pulled on a t-shirt and pajama pants and, barefoot, padded into the kitchen. Jean Pierre was cooking breakfast, shirtless. He looked up and said, “Bonjour Cupcake!” Philippe never imagined he would like that nickname, but coming from Jean Pierre’s very kissable lips, it was adorable. So he went over and gave him a kiss. “Bonjour Redwood. I didn’t know you were making breakfast.” “I thought I would surprise you with a quiche Lorraine. It’s my grandmother’s recipe.” “That sounds good. I didn’t know you could cook.” “Well, you would know if you stopped taking me to fancy restaurants. I love to cook. I should go and put on a shirt. This is unsanitary.” “No,” Philippe objected. “No you shouldn’t. I don’t mind.” In fact, he wouldn’t mind finding one of his boyfriend’s reddish brown chest hairs in his quiche. Jean Pierre smiled. “You don’t mind, huh? Well, then I think you should take your shirt off to make this fair.” Philippe blushed and reluctantly pulled off his shirt. JP looked at him with undisguised lust. “The quiche is ready. Have a seat and let me serve you.” Philippe sat at the table where fresh orange juice and a pot of steaming coffee were waiting. Jean Pierre brought him a generous wedge of quiche arranged on a plate with a small portion of rocket salad and sliced strawberries. “This is very nice. Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” JP sat down with his own plate after pouring the coffee and orange juice. “Bon appétit.” They talked about the party they had attended the night before. It was a pleasant evening with an eclectic group of people, couples and singles, more gay than straight. “My friends liked you,” said Philippe. “They were impressed. They thought you would be dumb. I enjoyed watching you change their minds.” “Yeah, I get that a lot. I thought I felt your eyes on me.” “Who else would I look at?” “Bah! Stop flattering me. I was debating whether to tell you this or not, but I think I should. Your friend Claude cornered me in the kitchen and propositioned me.” “He did? Oh, I’ll make him regret that!” “Don’t worry, he already does. He was about to put his hand on my…” JP pointed at his lap “…my crotch, but I grabbed his wrist and squeezed it so hard… I told him I’m with you exclusively and that wouldn’t change, as long as you’ll have me.” “Oh.” “I said, ‘I want you to spread the word so no one makes the same mistake. They’ll probably ask about the bruises on your wrist.’ I think I cracked a bone.” “You should have broken it,” Philippe said under his breath. Jean Pierre shrugged his big shoulders. “I’ll go back and finish the job if you want me to.” Philippe felt a stirring in his crotch. “You would do that for me?” JP looked him in the eye. “I would. Would you like that?” His smile was enigmatic. Philippe couldn’t hide his delight, but he said, “No. Thank you, though.” “Any time,” replied Jean Pierre before closing his mouth over the last chunk of quiche on his plate. “We should open our presents now. I’m really excited about what I got you, but I’d like to save that for last if you don’t mind.” “Okay, if that’s what you want.” Philippe couldn’t imagine what exciting thing could be in such a small package. It crossed his mind that it could be an engagement ring, but they hadn’t discussed a commitment, and Jean Pierre wouldn’t do that without discussing it first. They sat on the floor near the Christmas tree and Philippe gave his impossibly hot, smart, sweet boyfriend one present after another. Jean Pierre protested, sincerely, that it was too much, and Philippe said, “It’s nothing really. Everything was marked down. I know how to find a bargain.” He was lying. Finally, it was time for Philippe to open his gift. Jean Pierre’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. Philippe prepared to pretend to like whatever it was. The small green bag didn’t have any markings on it, but the paper felt expensive. He pulled it open, pushed aside the tissue paper, and withdrew a six inch tube, like a toothpaste tube, but it wasn’t toothpaste. “What is…” He looked at the label. In fancy script it said, “Lubrificante Ingranditore Magico,” followed by “Prodotto d'Italia.” His Italian wasn’t very good, but he guessed. “Is this… lube?” Jean Pierre could barely contain himself. “Yes! But not just any lube. It’s magic!” “Oh. Wow. Um… thank you, this is just… so nice.” Philippe was really struggling to show his appreciation. Jean Pierre took Philippe’s hand and held it between his larger, warmer hands. “I know you’re disappointed, and I know you don’t believe me, but please trust me, Philippe. This is not a joke.” “Well, I didn’t think it was a joke, but… I don’t understand. Why would you give me a tube of lube for Christmas?” “I knew we would be having a lot of sex this week since you took the whole week off, so I thought this would be the perfect time to…” “You think I’m just going to have sex with you all day, every day this week? Oh…my…god.” “Please, please, please, Philippe… Cupcake… please just let me show you. Please trust me. This is special.” Philippe was understandably upset and very skeptical, but Jean Pierre seemed so sincere and serious. He was unfailingly thoughtful, often anticipating his wants and needs in a way that no one else had ever done. Plus, he was an absolute unit, upstairs and downstairs. After spending so much on his gifts, he thought he might as well have use of that gorgeous muscular body for another day or two. “Would you like to have sex now?” “YES! Yes, please! Thank you! You won’t regret it. This will blow your mind.” “Alright, calm down. Do you want to do it here or in the bedroom.” “Definitely the bedroom. You’re going to be spraying cum all over the place.” “Oh, really?” Philippe thought, “I can’t believe he had the nerve to say that! He’s the one who cums like a firehose.” He had already had his bedroom repainted once since they started seeing each other. “Let’s go then. Just tell me what to do.” So, they went into the bedroom and got naked. Philippe was told to lie on his back in the center of the bed. Jean Pierre, on his knees, straddled his legs and loomed over him, as usual. Philippe was as limp as a noodle. He was not a large man… down there. At its hardest, it was just five inches, on the low end of average. It was a source of insecurity for him no matter who he was having sex with, but it was especially difficult to feel adequate in the presence of The Redwood. His nickname for Jean Pierre was a reference to his height and overall size, but more appropriately for his huge hozzle. As much as Philippe loved to play with it, it was a little too much of a good thing, especially when they attempted anal sex. They never got very far before Philippe had to tap out. He had been using a series of butt plugs to make things easier, but realistically, he was still a year away from providing full access. Jean Pierre never complained about it and they both enjoyed other things, but he often thought, “He can’t possibly be satisfied with me. It’s just a matter of time…” Jean Pierre set the precious tube of lube on the bed sheet and asked, “What can I do to turn you on and get this started?” “Well… just flex everything you’ve got. That usually does it.” Happy to oblige, Jean Pierre flexed his incredible muscles. He always looked like he was ready for a bodybuilding competition, but he didn’t compete. He said he built his physique for his own enjoyment, and for others to enjoy if they were into that kind of thing. Philippe was definitely into that kind of thing. He never imagined he would get his hands on someone like this, but there he was. At least for a few more days. When Jean Pierre flexed for him, he didn’t do the standard poses the competitors did. He showed off his muscles in the sexiest possible ways, and after nine months he knew exactly what Philippe liked. Jean Pierre had worked up a sweat, so his muscles were glistening. He bent forward and lowered his torso until it just touched Philippe’s. He slid his moist skin up and down his body while he crunched his abs and flexed his pecs. “Do you feel that?” he said. “Do you feel how much my muscles love your body. They’re making love to you. Do you feel it?” “Yes!” Philippe gasped. He had already forgotten about the lube. Jean Pierre was that good. JP moistened his lips and came within an inch of his lover’s face. “I bet you want to kiss me. Do you want me to kiss you? Is that what you want?” “Yes!” He did. He really, really did. “Oh, that’s good… I want to kiss you, too, but there’s something else I need to do right now. Okay, baby? I promise, I’ll kiss you later, okay?” “I guess…?” He wanted that kiss so much it was driving him crazy. Jean Pierre straightened up, observed that Philippe was at full mast, and reached for the lube. He also retrieved a pair of latex gloves he had tucked away. He pulled them on, opened the tube, and squeezed a dollop of thick gel onto each of his fingertips. “I’m going to put this on you, okay? Then I’ll give you a little massage. You’ll like it.” “What is it?” “It’s the lube I bought for you. Remember? It was fifteen minutes ago.” He was proud of the fact that he could addle Phillipe’s brain with his body. That’s what he built it for, and there was no one he wanted to give it to more than Philippe. He loved this man more than life itself, and he was determined to keep him. “But… shouldn’t you be putting the lube on your thing?” “Not this time, babe. Just relax, I know what I’m doing.” He spread the gel over Philippe’s erection and his testicles, carefully massaging it into the scrotum without pinching his balls. He stroked it up and down his shaft and rubbed it into his glans with his thumb. “That feels good… really good… ohhh my… aaah… don’t stop… you’re making me so hard… I’ve never felt so hard.” Jean Pierre squeezed out more gel and applied it to all the same places, massaging it in as he did the first time. Then he wrapped one hand around the shaft and squeezed. It was surprisingly firm. He slid his hand up and down a few times.” “Ohmygod, ohmygod! Ohh! SOO good! You’re so good… this is the best ever… how can it be so good? Hooo!” Jean Pierre continued to stroke Philippe’s erection. He estimated that it was now about twice as long as it had been. It was also thick enough that his fingers couldn’t touch his thumb anymore. “That should do it.” He stopped stroking. “No! Don’t stop! Why did you stop?” “Philippe, honey, I have something to show you. Could you sit up and look at this?” “Ugh.” Philippe propped himself up on his elbows. “Well, what is it?” Jean Pierre pointed to the large phallus between Philippe’s legs. He stared at it for a minute. “Is that yours? Why is it… wait, yours is over there… where is my… JP?” “That’s yours. I made it bigger for you. Do you like it?” Philippe just stared. “Go ahead… touch it. You’ll see.” Philippe reached out and put his hand around the great big cock that seemed to be attached to him. It practically lit up with pleasurable sensations. “Holy fuck!” He stroked it. “Oh, fuuuuck! Ohhh!” He let go of it because it was overwhelming. Then he noticed the size of his balls. “This is unbelievable! How did you do this?” Jean Pierre pulled off the latex gloves and picked up the tube of lube. “With this. It’s your present. Do you like it?” “Oh my god! I love it! I’ve always wanted a… wait… you knew I wanted this, didn’t you?” “Yeah,” JP nodded. “I could tell it was bothering you, so I knew exactly what to get you for Christmas. It looks good on you. Very handsome.” “Wow! I don’t even know where to begin…” Jean Pierre crawled up the bed to lie next to Philippe. He took hold of his erection again. “I was thinking I would finish the hand job I started. I’ll introduce you to the wonders of having a big dick.” He nuzzled Philippe’s neck and gave him a few little kisses leading up to his ear. He whispered, “Do you like my big muscle butt?” Philippe smiled and whispered back. “I love your big muscle butt!” “Good, because later today I want you to fuck me with your big fat cock. I want you to fuck my brains out. Do you think you can do that?” Philippe’s cock stiffened. “I’ll try. I mean, yes. No… I will definitely… I’m gonna wreck your ass with my big fat cock!” JP grinned. “There you go. That’s perfect. I can’t wait.” ***** About two hours later Philippe was still flat on his back, breathing heavily, recovering from his latest orgasm. There was cum on the ceiling and on the wall behind the bed. And everywhere else. Jean Pierre hadn’t cum yet. He was busy licking Philippe’s cock and balls, then his belly, and his chest. He licked him clean like a giant cat licking a kitten. He cleaned his neck and his beard. Philippe liked it very much. He wanted to be licked clean every day. “I can’t cum anymore. I’m spent. Amazing… so amazing.” Jean Pierre lay next to him with his head propped on one hand. “We’ll take a little break. Then I’ll make you cum again.” He ran the tip of his finger around Philippe’s right nipple. “There’s something I want to talk to you about. I was waiting for the right time, and this seems right.” He had Philippe’s attention. “Okay. What’s up?” “I quit my job at the gym. Friday was my last day.” “Oh. Why would you do that? How will you pay your bills?” “I want to go back to school to become a physical therapist. I was already accepted to a program.” “That’s a good goal. I’m sure you’ll be great at it.” Philippe was worried. He was afraid JP would ask him to pay for it and support him while he was in school. “Is the program here, or will you have to go away?” “No, it’s here. I’m not going anywhere. I just wanted you to know my plans.” He glanced up and smiled. “I’m sure you were really proud to be dating a personal trainer. Now I’ll just be a student. Is that going to be a problem?” Philippe smiled a little but felt sad. “I’m proud to be dating you no matter what you do. I hope you know I really mean that.” “I know. I was just kidding.” He rested his hand on Philippe’s chest and started to trace his other nipple. “I love your chest. It’s really sexy.” Philippe thought, “He’s flattering me now. He’ll butter me up before asking for money.” He had to ask. “So, how will you pay for this?” “That’s not a problem. I’ve got it covered.” “Oh. Okay.” “Actually, that leads to another thing I wanted to tell you. I wasn’t completely honest with you when we met.” “Oh?” Uh oh. “I was working as a personal trainer because I enjoyed it, but I have another source of income. I have a trust fund from my grandmother. The funds became available to me when I turned 26, and I need to decide what to do with it. I was wondering if you could help me figure that out. That’s what you do for a living, right?” “Yes, but… I’m curious. Why didn’t you want to tell me that when we met?” “It’s kind of embarrassing… you know… when people know you have that kind of money, it’s hard to know if they really like you, or if they’re just interested in the money. Now I know you’re not like that. I know you just love me for my body.” He glanced at Philippe with his mischievous eyes. “I do NOT just love you for your… I mean… don’t get me wrong, I do love your body… but there’s…” “Philippe… I’m kidding. Can’t you tell when I’m kidding?” He rubbed the patch of hair on Philippe’s chest. “I could eat you alive. Do you know that? I can’t get enough of you. Can I make you cum again?” “Not yet.” Philippe put a hand on his forehead. “I’m so confused.” “What are you confused about?” “I thought… I’m sorry, but… I was afraid you were only with me for my money.” “What? Why? I know you have a good job, but… you’re probably not even a millionaire, are you?” That stung a bit. “Well, not yet, but if I average an 8 or 9% return on my investments, eventually I will be.” “I’m sure you will. Everyone says you’re good at what you do.” “So… why are interested in me?” Jean Pierre looked at him and tried to figure out if he was kidding. “Are you kidding me?” Apparently he wasn’t. “You’re the total package, man. You’re handsome, intelligent, you have a weird sense of humor, and we like the same things. You’re generous, TOO generous! I can talk to you about anything. I want to talk to you all the time. Except when we’re having sex. I love having sex with you. I love the way you love my body. I can’t tell you how hot that is, the way you look at me. God… Why would I want to be with anyone else? I’m just trying to hang on to you.” Philippe felt as though his heart might burst. This was too much to hope for. “He loves me. He actually loves ME.” There were tears in his eyes when he said, “I had no idea you felt that way.” “I’m sorry. I could have told you sooner, but I’ve been holding back because you always seem a little nervous around me. I didn’t want to scare you away by saying I love you too soon.” “I’ve been nervous around you because I didn’t believe an incredible man like you could be satisfied with me, not long term anyway. I was afraid to get too attached. I figured I would get hurt eventually, but I was trying to limit the damage, you know? But I couldn’t stop myself from loving you.” Now Jean Pierre had tears in his eyes. “Come here.” He wrapped an arm around him and rolled onto his back, so Philippe was lying on top of him, face down. They had to squirm and adjust themselves until their long cocks lay next to each other comfortably, then he wrapped his big arms around the smaller man, surrounding him with muscle. “I want to hug you so hard, but I don’t want to squish you… so tell me if it gets uncomfortable.” “It’s perfect. I love it when you do this.” “Good, I love doing it. So… first of all… I think you’ll find that I’m not that easy to get rid of. I mean, look at the size of me! Do you really think you could kick me out?” “Probably not, but it might be fun to try. You’d probably have to get rough with me, huh? Maybe throw me around a little?” JP was surprised. “Would you like that?” Philippe nodded. “Ooh, you’re a kinky old man. We’ll have a lot of fun with that.” Philippe started to rock his hips slightly. “Second… what was the second thing I wanted to say? I forgot.” “I think you were saying how much you love me and never want to leave me.” Philippe started sliding his fresh erection against JP’s abs and slightly longer cock. “Oh yeah… something about that… I’m still drawing a blank.” He was distracted by the sight of Philippe’s peachy butt moving up and down. Once he saw it, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. His cock thickened between their bodies. Philippe felt it. “What do you plan to do with the rest of that lube?” “I have an idea… but it’s your present… what do you think?” Philippe started humping the valley between Jean Pierre’s abs. The hair along his treasure trail provided a wonderful new experience for his much larger, more sensitive dick. “Do you still have those gloves?” “Yes.” JP tightened his abs, giving Philippe another new sensation. “Ahh! Put the gloves on and lube my butt hole… generously. Get your big finger in there and spread it all around inside me. Do it now.” Jean Pierre’s powerful cock hardened so quickly it almost lifted Philippe. “Yes, sir. I will do that immediately, but you’ll have to stop moving around. Your hot butt is all over the place.” Philippe stopped humping and gave JP a greedy wet kiss on the mouth, then grabbed one of his nipples and twisted it hard as he climbed off his hot-as-hell massive boyfriend. The Redwood flew upwards and started growing. He turned around, straddled Jean Pierre doggy style, and stuck his butt right in his face. “How’s that?” “Perfect!” Without asking, JP pulled it towards his face and started licking his hole. “OH! You don’t have to… oh, yes… yes you do have to do that… oh my… god… keep… that… uhn…” Jean Pierre had been wanting to eat his ass for months now but was afraid to ask. He couldn’t pass this up. When he was satisfied, he wiped his saliva off, put on the latex gloves, and prepared the lube. “Are you ready?” “Yes, do it!” Philippe was staring right at The Redwood in all its glory, swaying majestically. He wanted to grab it and shove as much as he could into his mouth, but he needed to let Jean Pierre concentrate. He did have some questions though. “Jean Pierre… where did you get this lube? I’ve never heard of anything like it.” “No, you wouldn’t have. It was developed by a chemist who worked for my grandmother’s company. He claimed that it contained a magic potion that had been passed down in his family for generations. She was impressed by his accomplishment, but she knew it couldn’t be released to the public. So she paid him enough money to keep him quiet and set him up for life. Then she gathered up all his research and chemicals and equipment and locked them away where only she had access to them.” “What kind of company did she own?” “You’ve probably heard of it… Incantesimi Cosmetics. She started with a tiny shop in Turin and gradually built it into an international business. She was amazing.” Philippe was astonished. Of course he had heard of it! It was one of the most admired brands in the world, known for it’s uncompromising commitment to the quality of their products. For that reason it never went public despite numerous attempts to acquire it. So that meant… the gorgeous young man who was busy lubing his ass was one of a handful of family members who owned a company worth more than a billion Euros. Philippe’s realization triggered an involuntary constriction of his anal sphincter. “Hey!” Jean Pierre protested, “Are you trying to break my finger? Relax, I’m almost done.” He paused to assess his work. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?” “No, it’s fine, thank you.” “We have to wait for this to be absorbed. I don’t want to get any of it on the thing you like best about me.” “Here we go again. You’re right, The Redwood is your best feature.” “Wait a minute… I thought I was Redwood.” “You are Redwood… because of how big you are. But this beauty is THE Redwood. I thought you understood that.” “You refer to my dick as The Redwood? God, that’s so hot!” His excitement was visible as The Redwood became even more engorged… noticeably fatter and a little bit taller. Philippe couldn’t resist anymore. He grabbed it with both hands, put his mouth over the throbbing head, and started sucking. He loved the feel of it in his mouth as well as the unique taste. Jean Pierre had become his favorite flavor. “Oh, fuck that feels good!” JP grabbed hold of Philippe’s butt, squeezing one cheek in each of his big hands. He kneaded them like stress balls a few times before remembering how strong his grip was. He eased off and wondered if the imprints of his hands would be visible the following day. On second thought, he gave them one more hard squeeze just to be sure. It brought Philippe off his cock. “Ow! What are you doing to my butt?” Jean Pierre didn’t think twice before saying, “I’m leaving my handprints on your ass so everyone will know it’s mine.” “Oh, that’s so fucking hot! I can’t wait to see them.” JP had guessed correctly. Philippe spun around. “I want your cock inside me right now! I’m not waiting any longer! I don’t care what you have to do, just do it now!” Jean Pierre was startled but incredibly turned on by this change of tone. He quickly reached for the bottle of regular lube in the drawer of the bedside table. Before he could open it, Philippe said, “Give me that.” He grabbed it and issued further orders. “I want you flat on your back, spread eagle. Come on!” Jean Pierre spread his limbs into a giant X while Philippe knelt between his legs. He squeezed a whole handful of the lube into his palm and started glazing The Redwood with a generous coat. JP enjoyed watching it, and feeling it, of course. Then Philippe squeezed out another portion for himself and lubed his newly enlarged butthole. Without further ado, he stood up and positioned himself over Jean Pierre’s erection. “I’m curious… how many guys have been able to get this thing inside them?” “None who lived,” said Jean Pierre with a serious expression. “You’re joking, right?” “Yeah. No one has been able to do any better than you have, and no one has tried harder than you did. I never even considered using the magic lube with anyone but you. Are you having second thoughts?” “Hell no!” Philippe pressed his hole against the spongy head and popped it through the sphincter. There was no pain as there had been during previous attempts. “So far, so good, babe. Don’t try to go too fast… I don’t want to hurt you.” Philippe was not as patient as Jean Pierre. Once the gate had opened, he knew he would go all the way. In one smooth motion, he sat all the way down until he felt Jean Pierre’s balls against his butt. The Redwood was inside him. Jean Pierre was shocked and overwhelmed. He drew in a deep, deep breath and held it. His eyes were as big as saucers. Then he exhaled in one long moan of absolute joy that a part of his body had found its home as surely as he had found the love of his life. Philippe’s reaction was similar. He felt himself get filled with hot flesh that brought the throb of his lover’s heartbeat as close to his own heart as it could possibly get. It was not entirely painless, but the pain soon dissolved into a warm ache of assurance that he and Jean Pierre had become one inseparable entity. Jean Pierre brought his knees up so Philippe could lean back against his thighs. He propped himself on his elbows. They looked into each other’s eyes and saw that their mutual feelings transcended any differences in size, age, income, or net worth. They were committed to each other for life. Philippe felt his own erection throb as it pointed at Jean Pierre. Perhaps it wasn’t the most appropriate time to ask, but he had to know… “Jean Pierre… if you don’t mind me asking… how big is your trust fund?” “Oh… last I checked it was around 400 million, but it’s probably more now. I don’t pay much attention to it.” Philippe expelled a powerful jet of cum that hit Jean Pierre right on the chin before pasting a few more ropes to his pecs and abs. “Ooooooooh… I’m so sorry, Jean Pierre! I didn’t mean to…” “Don’t apologize! That was amazing!” “It’s just… I can’t help it, but… your big fat trust fund is so fucking hot…” Jean Pierre grinned. “I’m glad you like it, because you’ll be managing my investment portfolio from now on.” “Oh! You’re gonna make me cum again!” “You bet I’m gonna make you cum again! We’ve got all week to enjoy this, right?” “Yes… yes, we do. There’s nothing else I want to do this week.” “Me neither.” “There’s just one problem…” “What’s that, Cupcake?” “You’re going to have a hard time topping this Christmas gift next year.” Jean Pierre beamed. “Well… I’ve got a year to think about it.” The End

Long time lurker. First time posting a short story of my own. Enjoy ____________________________________ "Damn it..." Ian was working out on a treadmill in his city's gym. A disappointed expression in his eyes. He was a scrawny, 5'6 feet tall guy, weighing around 120 lbs. He didn't wanted to be so short and without any visible muscle. He wanted to be huge, BIGGER than huge. A masculine beast that everyone will notice and worship. Sadly, no matter how much he tried, his body refused to build any muscle, and over the years he has just gotten even scrawnier and punier. "Fuck man, I wish I could grow bigger..." Getting off the treadmill, he decides to walk outside for a breath of fresh air. Walking to the door, he notices every man in the gym being either highly concentrated in their training, or flexing for themselves in the mirror. Which makes him both aroused and jealous. But while standing outside and stretching a bit, something falls on top of him, covering him from head to toe. "W-what the hell?" He looks to the sky, but it was completely clear. And whatever fell on him felt sticky and gooey. It reminded him of something, but he couldn't quite remember what. Going inside the gym again, he was gonna go straight to the showers to rinse this strange thing off, but the time he came back, his body had completely absorbed it. He couldn't do nothing but stare at where the thing was, but not wanting to overthink, he simply went back to the treadmill. That's when it began. After a few minutes, he began filling a warm and itchy feeling all over his body, forcing him to get off the treadmill again. "What is...h-huh?!" In front of him, his body starts growing. First his previously puny chest, expanding onwards, pushing the shirt to it's limits. Then his arms, ballooning into giant biceps, filling with pound after pound of muscle, the sound of his bones rearranging and his muscles growing being heard through the whole area. Eventually, his shirt completely rips, freeing his still growing pecs from their prison, their "sweat" falling unto the floor as gravity made its job. "My-my pecs...what the...god, this feels so..." a moan leaves his lips. The feeling of his muscles growing feeling just as if he was edging an orgasm. He had already started getting glances from the people in the gym, curious about what was going on. But that's when the transformation continued, his flat belly turning a rock hard six pack, then a 8 pack, followed by his legs, growing in size and muscle, becoming thick enough to rival tree trunks, making rips into his pants until they soon, fall. With longer legs also increases his height, turning slowly from 5,5 to 5,9, then 6,3, then 6,7. His ass became a bubble butt, inflating in size to a fast speed, sending the jockstrap into him. He also started gaining body hair, gaining a beard in the process, and his pecs and abs becoming hairy. Ian thought he was dreaming, and if he was, he didn't wanted it to end. Standing now there only with a jockstrap, he had gone from a twig to a muscular, powerful man. Everyone in the gym had stares only for him. Many of fear, many of curiosity, and even a few filled with lust. He flexes right there, the feeling of his own muscles pressing against each other intoxicating his mind even more. He wa also completely sweating, the smell of man going through the whole gym. Ian thought he was already perfect. But leaving out a painful moan, he realizes that his cock and balls also wanted to be set free. Faster than the rest of his body, his cock starts throbbing in his jockstrap, pushing it down, and eventually setting itself free, slamming against Ian's leg. It was throbbing, pulsating, veins covering it completely, and slowly reaching to the floor. His balls were also growing along with it, becoming sensitive to the touch. "T-this is so much...but..." And that's when he reaches the point of no return. As if his hand was glued to his cock, he starts stroking it, panting in ecstasy, as he falls to his knees and watches in real time as it starts growing, and with it, the rest of his body. His cock soon became thicker than his already bigger hand, and slowly approaching his mouth, before he decided to grab it with his two hands, jerking faster, moving his hips along with it. He was trapped on his own world of lust, the men of the gym taking off their already light clothes jerk off to the sight, overcome with lust. Closer to climaxing, and his head almost reaching the ceiling of the place as his growth intensified, barely being able to move to his biceps becoming too big... He cums. A roar releasing his seed into all the surroundings, his cock shooting volley after volley of thick sperm, shooting random bystanders, and even the very ceiling. The absolute pleasure of his orgasm made the final step of his growth began, and like a broken faucet, the strength of his cum intensified, his dick becoming bigger, thicker, volleys of cum covering the whole gym, men affected by it starting to suck it, becoming big in the same way. Ian's mind was slowly disappearing, being replaced by the desire to grow even bigger, fuck all day, and and cum again and again. The simple thought was enough to make his stream of cum even stronger, now lying on a pool of his own cum that his worshippers were sucking to grow. His muscles were growing to such a rate that his movement was starting to become limited, his balls churning his unlimited seed into his massive cock. Yet he didn't cared. He wanted to grow bigger. "More...Please...MORE..." This command changes something in Ian. And suddenly, he breaks through the gym, his gigantic cock growing into the sky, spewing his seed everywhere like a fountain, the streets becoming rivers of his own cum as he starts growing past buildings and skyscrapers. Worshippers came to him, transformed by his cum, and did their best to pleasure the giant god as he kept growing and growing. Eventually, he stopped getting taller at the height of a skyscraper, but his muscles kept growing still, his head threatening to be shallowed by his traps at any seconds. Yet even then...Ian wanted more. He got a taste of godhood, now he wanted it all. He wanted to turn this world into a neverending orgy. He wanted to show his true power. Growing bigger than the city, a mountain, and and now standing on top of the world...Ian came. And came, and came. The seas turned to white, societies were destroyed by his cum tsunami, people transformed into hyper men looking to grow and fuck 24/7. Ian stood at the top of the world. He was the god of this world now, and the world was nothing more than his playground. A neverending orgy of pure masculinity, sweat, and sex, as everyone swam through his cum, people climbing into his body to worship him. This is what Ian wanted. And yet a thought still remained in his broken mind. "More..." The planet rumbled, unprepared for his next ascension. ---------- END OF PART 1 Tell me your thoughts on this or if you liked it.

When we last left our hero Ultra, he had unwittingly fallen under the curse of a dark entity, thanks to the help of some pesky Frat boys! Now that they have poor Ultra at their disposal, just what will the do with all that Ultramuscle? Find out in part 2 of our hero's adventure! And stick around, part 3 will bring a thrilling conclusion for our readers and our hero! Will Ultra escape the Dark One? Will the Frat boys learn their lesson? And will Ultra get to disrobe and release? Miss part one? You can find it here. Thanks again to the wonderful @Ultra for working with me and allowing me to use his awesome character. You can envision Ultra in peril with the help of this awesome art gallery (done by no other than the very talented @Ultra himself)! The image below is just one example you can find there! --- Ultra could see the world around him, but couldn’t force his body to move. His massive member ached. He could feel his cum vein throb, and with every passing moment he felt himself close to blowing yet unable. The powerful energy had retracted his cock and held it in place, strangled and trapped. Each time his cock pulsed, the energy sizzled from the codpiece. The skull gleamed along the energy of his bulge, holding back his giant ultracock. Ultra could only scream inside his mind, flexing and attempting anything to break free from the dark energy. He could hear the laughter from the dark entity as he remained trapped inside his own mind, the magic forcing his body to wait for his future commands. The young men awoke to the dull pink glow of Ultra’s energy thong. His titanic form seemed trapped in an empty gaze at the world in front of him. Every so often a moan would escape his lips, and he’d move to touch the chains of his ultracodpiece to struggle, only to find that it was in vain. One of the boys rubbed his eyes as though he was waking from a dream. “I don’t believe it. Holy shit. Did we defeat Ultra?” He moved to approach the gargantuan hero. The fraternity brother was no small fry himself at 220 pounds, but Ultra was something else together entirely. He moved to put a hand up to Ultra’s chest. The other boys watched as it shook, getting closer to the hero’s perfect, smooth skin. “Be careful,” One of them hissed, “He made us all cum just by flexing last time.” That much was true. And, as they all started to get to their feet, they looked at one another. Something was either giving them the power to resist Ultra, or they were no longer affected by his ethereal glow and show of his ultrapecs, abs, and glutes. Rory groaned as he sat up. He felt as though he was hungover just from the loads that he’d blown. Just like the rest of the boys, he’d fallen under Ultra’s spell, and couldn’t resist emptying his balls in front of the ultramuscled hero. He gasped at the sight of Ultra looking entirely defenseless. Surely there had to be something he could do to free his hero from whatever magic was possessing him? He watched the hand of the boy begin to caress Ultra’s pectoral muscle and took a gulp. He was still naked, and could feel his own cock start to get a bit hard again. No. This was wrong. Ultra wouldn’t want to be used this way! ‘Good morning, boys.’ A disembodied voice spoke in their heads. The necklace on Ultra glowed again. ‘Don’t look so shocked. You’ve called on my power and I have delivered for you and then some.’ “Sir, King of Darkness, leader of the ancient Black Hats,” The boy who Rory could only say was in charge because he’d been the one leading the ritual spoke, “We have delivered an even greater bounty than you commanded. Ultra and his power are now under your control.” Silence filled the room then as the boys began to kneel in front of Ultra. Rory stayed on both knees, unsure of his place in all of this. The boys seemed to have discarded him, and in all the confusion in the basement, hadn’t bothered to escort him out. A part of his stomach twisted in knots watching the necklace on Ultra grow. If this dark and evil energy could take down the world’s strongest hero, what chance did he have to help him? ‘You have done well,’ The dark being spoke again. ‘And I have given you a gift. For as long as I remain here, you all have been enchanted not to be affected by the fool Ultra. While his powers may make him grow, they will not force you into fits of ecstasy. Instead, the body and power of Ultra is yours to control. Enjoy him. And use him to bring others into the fold… or to their knees.’ “Hail the Dark One!” The head boy spoke, standing from his spot on the ground. Others soon joined him in calling out to the dark spirit, until at last all of them were chanting, Hail the Dark One, their voices echoing the walls of the frat house basement. It was hard for Rory to believe a place that was decorated to look like the inside of an Appleby’s would be the place where Ultra would meet his doom, and the possible end of humanity would begin, but then 2024 had proved itself a weird year as it was. Ultra let out another moan as he stood there, swaying. The skull atop his pink codpiece glimmered in the light now pouring in from the windows. His Ultra cock still ached in its confinement, still unable to burst and release after all this time. He sighed as he stood, hands moving down to his bulge and stroking it. The thick cords of muscle on his back shuddered as he touched himself, bringing both pleasure and the awful sense that he’d never be free of this dark magic. “What do we do now?” One of the boys finally said. Their chanting had died out and left them in silence staring at the musclebound hero touching himself. He looked to the boy who’d been in charge. “Mark?” “You heard what the Dark One said. We are supposed to use him any way we see fit. And I think that means Ultra here is going to start by putting on a show.” Mark stepped to look up at Ultra’s green eyes, his own height getting him just at chest level with the superhero. He put a hand on the hero’s abs and ran his fingers along them. Each thick ab like a tortoiseshell, hard and powerful. He half expected the neon energy to engulf him for doing so, but Ultra remained still, and unmoving, except for the occasional moan and shudder. “All right Ultra. The boys and I are going to watch you put on a show for us. I want you to start by flexing for us.” Mark moved back into the crowd of boys to get some space. He lay on the plush carpet of the basement and atop a few spare pillows. He raised a hand to beckon Ultra onward. Ultra stood still, his giant frame unmoving, as if registering what he had been commanded. Inside his mind, Ultra was fighting with every ounce of his resistance to this dark magic. But in front of the boys, his body rebelled, aching instead to be at their whims. He slowly raised both arms above his head and gave a signature double bicep flex. His body glowed in a pink aura as his lips parted. “Whatever you command… masters…” Ultra closed his eyes and let out a little moan. The bulge of his codpiece seemed to jump as he proceeded to turn and hit pose after pose. The boys took shaky breaths as they saw the curvature of his Ultra pecs on display. The warm light from overhead rolling over each mound of muscle and his warm skin, his pecs proud domes that he flexed one by one in another corn turn. He put his hands on his hips and bounced them to show off, causing one of the boys to nearly fall over (even without the Ultra infused power). One boy stepped forward to feel Ultra’s chest as he turned to flex. The boy’s finger was between the massive slabs of meat, and it was then he let out a yell, nearly unable to pull back his finger from between Ultra’s massive pectorals! “Let go!” The boy cried as the others snicked, as Ultra had lifted him up with ease, one finger between his thick pecs, holding him by his pecs along. When Ultra turned again, he dropped to the ground and held his finger between his legs, ashamed and in pain. Rory stared at the perfection of Ultra’s body. He was already hard, but the usual quick arousal and release from Ultra’s super form didn’t occur. He too seemed to be at the whim of the Dark One, and yet protected as well. “Show us your glutes!” One of them shouted out, and Ultra moved to turn around. His twin globes of muscle were on full display, save for the tiny chain that ran up his crack. He brought his elbows back, then forward, to show off the width of his back. They marveled at the way Ultra’s lats appeared like literal wings, and how from his shoulders down to his waist the hero looked as akin to a wasp as possible. Cut like a diamond, hard as a statue, and yet soft in appearance as any other mortal. When he bent over to put his hands on his ankles and give the boys a glute spread, his quads flexed and the boys gasped at his sheer size. “I want more…” One boy already had his hand down his pants with a grin. “He needs to really flex for us! I know it’s driving this Ultra bitch wild!” That much appeared true: his ultrabulge had grown gigantic in the codpiece, and yet the chains remained taut across his tiny waist. Ultra continued to moan as he changed positions, flexing. The boys murmured to one another, each of them already leaning back in the gym shorts they’d been wearing under their robes with their hands grasping at their cocks. They couldn’t help but be drawn to Ultra, now less a hero and more a plaything. Still, none of them wanted to blow too soon, not when there was so much that could be done to or with Ultra and his body. “Show us how big you are, Ultra,” Mark commanded the stud, his low voice almost growling. “Y-yes… masters…” Ultra moved to pull up from his glute spread and gave another bow toward the boys. Ultra stepped forward, smooth muscles rippling with each step. He lifted up his arms and began to flex. One pectoral muscle flexed and rolled, displaying its size and strength, then the other. He turned to give a side profile, and it was then they saw perfection in its truest form. From the shimmer of his skin, they could see his ultra pecs expand outward, pushing the limits of believability toward 60”. His ultra lats were coiled in ropes of muscle, wider than ever thought possible, while the taper of his waist seemed improbable for someone the superhero’s size. His quads pushed apart from sheer volume of muscle, his glutes thick globes of muscle. With every turn, Ultra moaned and flexed. Flexed and moaned. He was theirs to control. Inside his mind, Ultra was doing his best to resist, but the amulet glowed every time the superhero even attempted to hold back some of his pure muscle power. “Oooh…” Ultra moaned, “Masters… I have to come so badly…” He put his hands down along his beefy pecs and trailed down to his glowing pink codpiece. In times of usual distress, Ultra had always been able to remove it on his own, but here, the dark power made him only thirst for their approval. He could do nothing but put his hands behind his back and flex for them. It was what his masters demanded, and so he would give it to them. “Don’t worry about that, Ultra, if you’re a good boy, then maybe we’ll let you blow,” Cooed Mark, and the other boys snickered. He moved up to Ultra and placed a hand underneath his pec. His eyes widened. “Holy shit. I just… this is unbelievable. You guys… You’ve gotta feel this.” It was all the approval that they needed to clamber up from their spots on the ground to put their hands on Ultra’s body. The superhero put his hands behind his head, closed his eyes, and sighed. There were a dozen hands on his front and almost as many on his back, tracing the smoothness of his skin up from his shoulders down to his groin. And on the back, from his neck all the way to his glutes. They grabbed at the globes of muscle, and Ultra gave a flex. The mass expanded some in their hands, his quads bigger than three of theirs combined. Some traced the deep cuts along the hero’s abs to see the eight pack expand to ten. “He’s put on so much mass. Should we max him out?” One of the younger men pleaded. “He’s…” Rory had drawn up with the boys too, drawn to Ultra’s raw display of power. He moved put a hand on the hero’s neck, and they stared at one another in the eyes. The necklace flickered, almost as though Ultra were trying to desperately cry out to the one boy that could’ve saved him. But the spark of the necklace caught Rory in the chest and he gasped, stagger. His head fell into Ultra and his Ultra pecs, and soon, the freshman was tracing his tongue along the hero’s chest toward one of his nipples. He circle around the bullseye of a target and sucked in, his eyes wide. Ultra swayed and let out a deep moan. “Ooooooh…” He pushed his chest forward, knocking hands and some of the lighter boys forward. He flexed each pec, as if to offer himself up to them. “Fuck yeah, Ultra… that’s right super slut…” Mark grinned as let his robe flutter to the floor. The senior was not only well tenting at 9”, with a girth that would have nearly been classified as super, but his young body looked cut from stone. He stepped to press his cock alongside the ultra quads of the hero and thrusted. “Ultra… service your new masters… let us use your body…” Ultra blinked and gave a nod. “Ooooh… masters…” he stepped forward and let his hands fall to his sides. “Use me… as you… please… oooooh…” The boys could see the codpiece glow as Ultra throbbed, aroused and unable to do a thing to stop what was to come next. Robes tumbled to the floor as the young hot blooded college boys approached the superhero with hunger. A few of them moved to thrust their dicks along his quads, a few jockeyed behind as they grabbed at Ultra’s chains and thrust along his massive glutes. Hands reached from behind to cup underneath the ultrapecs that cast a wide shadow. Others put their lips to the nipples then exposed between fingers, poking out like juicy targets for the taking. One man grabbed Ultra’s blond lock and forced him into a kiss. Another grabbed his chin to thrust his tongue into Ultra’s mouth. Their tongues swirled, Ultra moaning with pleasure and delight, begging in whispers to be freed from his chains so he could cum. “On your knees…” Mark commanded with a slap to the hero’s ultralats. His heavy form thudded against the carpet and nearly shook the whole house. Ultra put his hands in front of him, and it was then that Mark moved in to place his hands underneath Ultra’s chin. “Now… we see how good the hero is at taking cock. Open wide, Ultra…” The superhero gasped as Mark thrust his cock deep into his warm throat. He swallowed and swallowed, the senior rough as he did his best to overwhelm the hero. Ultra, of course, an expert at sword swallowing and endowed with supernatural powers, rocked forward and back as Mark thrusted in a heavy tempo. It wasn’t long before Mark tapped out, stopping himself from blowing too soon, before another stepped in to take his place, and then another, until there were two cocks in Ultra’s mouth, slamming down his throat, the boys ravenous to use the hero in front of them. Still others took the position behind Ultra, their cock grinding along the small of his lower back. The chains prevented them from exploring Ultra’s glutes, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t ride the hero’s posterior. Some boys reached to grab Ultra’s wrists, and put his heavy grip in their thrusting cocks. The hero looked as if he were performing with a symphony - tight, muscled bodies of young men in every direction, thrusting at him, into him, alongside him. All the while he kept moaning, muscles flexing, cock aching. The room glowed in Ultra’s pink aura as the young men thrust and grinded into Ultra. He couldn’t be sure how much time passed, the power of their sexual aura too overwhelming to think straight. He knew only that he wanted to give them as much pleasure as possible. To leave them with the highest level orgasm they’d ever have, for he was Ultra, and they were his masters. And he lived to serve. “Ohhhh fuck…” Mark muttered as he grinded his cock along the smooth skin of Ultra’s cheek. “You want my cum, don’t you, big boy?” “Yes master… please… give me your cum…” Ultra stared at Mark wide eyed, his voice soft. The massive hero begging to be showered in the fratboy’s jizz. “Oh my god… I’m gonna blow… boys… help me paint him…” Mark jerked his member in his hands faster and faster, his breathing haggard. He could feel his balls tightening and lifting up close to his body. The other boys started to stroke faster and faster too. A whole chorus of voices started to moan and to call out to the defeated superhero. “You fucking like this huh, muscle slut?” “You want to taste of this cum?” “Tell us how much you want this… you need this…” Ultra opened his mouth and for a moment it seemed as though he didn’t know what to say (or that he was conspiring to resist), but then, he faltered once more and Ultra submitted. “Please… I need… it…” His words were enough to move one of the sophomore, who blew a steady stream of cum deep in between the hero’s pecs. He moved to thrust his cock between the mountains of muscle, dripping cum down his shaft and into the ravine. Others were at his lower back, moaning as they jerked together, one blowing, then another, as they showered his glutes in white. Their cum dripped downward off his skin and to the floor, pooling. Rory pushed forward and growled, shoving his thick member down Ultra’s waiting throat. He locked eyes with the superhero, overcome in his animalistic lust, and grabbed behind Ultra’s head to thrust into him like a dagger into the gut. The hero gagged in surprise when Rory shot a heavy stream deep into his throat. When he pulled up, jizz dripped down the hero’s chin, and he took a shuddered breath. Mark exploded in that movement, watching the new initiate blow inside Ultra, and sprayed across the hero’s beautiful face and lips. He moaned as he stroked out the load, swirling a finger along his cock head to bring it to his lips, and then again to press the same finger into Ultra’s mouth. One by one, the boys shot white hot loads across the fallen superhero. Some aimed for his chest, others for abs like targets, still others atop his glutes. When the last boy shot hard enough to not only squirt a load atop Ultra’s chest and his chin, the room grew quiet, save for the heavy breathing of all the boys now finished. Satisfied with their bounty, they moved to step back and take up their robes. “Look at him… pathetic…” One of them said. Ultra hung his head as he stared down at the carpet. The cum slid easily off the hero's body, unable to stick to his perfectly smooth skin, but it did not change the fact that the hero had been all too willing to take load after load. And, what was worse, he wanted them to explode all over his muscles. Even then, as he begged for release to explode on his own, he felt himself grow faint. “Ooooooeuuugh… I need… to cum…” Ultra slipped forward onto his side on the carpet, clutching his bulge. The use of his body like an amusement park ride had left him begging to explode as well. But none of them dared step forward to do a thing. Not when it meant they could enjoy Ultra for as long as they wanted. ‘Very good boys…’ The necklace glowed as the disembodied voice spoke again. ‘I can sense his will fading to oblivion. He wants nothing more than to serve you all. Which means that we have his Ultra power for whatever we want. He’ll never know the meaning of freedom again.’ The boys moved the high five one another with a grin. The voice continued, ‘And now we use him to convert the rest of the world to our mission. Soon we’ll control all that we’ve ever wanted, thanks to your breaking Ultra.’ The voice boomed as the young men cheered. ‘So now, where do we begin.’ “Let’s… get him to go to the gym and get the biggest bodybuilders to come back here,” One of the young men shouted out. “We can use him to destroy the house of those guys who made fun of us last semester,” Another cried out. “How about we make him clean the whole house and give us blow jobs again.” Their voices overlapped with one another, and their chattering continued for a few minutes. The amulet atop Ultra’s necklace sparked and the voice spoke again. ‘You fools, you have the most powerful superhero at your disposal, and all you can think of are these petty and insignificant crimes?’ The amulet glowed red and Ultra moaned. He flopped over on his side as the red energy danced along his muscles. ‘He holds unlimited power. Energy that could bring nations to their knees.’ “W-what do you think we should do?” Mark was the only one who managed to speak. ‘If you will not use him to destroy our enemies and subjugate the unworthy, then perhaps I will take his power myself and doom this world!’ (TO BE CONTINUED...)

Have been working on this for a while. Enjoy! Chapter 1 “Thank you for a wonderful last day class, congratulations! I’ll see you at graduation.” My AP Calc 2 professor Stevenson exclaimed to me and my class s the bell rang. I walked out the door, a big smile on my face. High school was finally over, after four long years. I could finally go to Stanford and escape this boring, small town. I was going to move to California and get into the program for Computer Science and get an awesome degree. My name is Dan Blackwood by the way. I’m 18 and I live outside of Chicago with my parents Lisa and Gary. My older brother Joey lives in Chicago and is a college football player. We’re all really proud of him. I was always the nerdy brother, and at 5’3, the runt of the family. My mom is 5’3”, and my dad is 5’8”. Joey is 6’2 and a star quarterback. My parents always supported him, but I could tell they were worried about me. They never pressured me to change who I was though, which I was grateful for. I was happy. I was always a nerd. I was never that interested in sports, I was into computers. I was pretty much ready to leave for college, all I needed to do was pack the rest of my stuff and then get the rest shipped. I was so excited to start a new life. I came out of the closet when I was 14, and although my parents and brother were completely fine with it, I always felt a little different. My height hindered my dating life and it was something i was hoping would change with the move. Tonight I was forcing my friends to go to a college volleyball game to see a crush of mine. - “Dan why are we going to a college volleyball game?” Ryan asked me as he drove us to the arena. Ryan and I have been friends since 3rd grade. In middle school, he shot up in height to his current height of 6’5”. We always looked silly, him being a head taller than me. He had curly blond hair and the most angelic face. Obviously i was in love with him for a long time, but he’s straight. He has a girlfriend named Rachel who he met last year. He’s now like a second brother. Rachel chimed in, "Yeah what gives? Not that I don't love seeing hot guys in tiny shorts haha." I blushed, "Well there's a guy on the team who's really hot and I want to support him." Ryan and Rachel shared a look and laughed. "Ooooh you have a crush!" Rachel said excitedly. I blushed again. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." We parked the car and headed into the stadium. It was packed. We found our seats and settled in. The game started. Noah was playing well. I couldn't take my eyes off him. Noah Martinez was 6 foot 8. He was ripped. His muscles were bulging. My cock got hard. I could feel my balls throbbing. I was so horny. I loved it. I watched as Noah ran up and down the court. He jumped high and spiked the ball over the net. I couldn't stop staring at him. My cock was rock hard. I looked over at Ryan and Rachel. They were both smiling. I blushed again. The team won. As we walked out we walked by Noah. I only came up to his muscular chest. He didn’t see me but it was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Ryan and Rachel were still laughing at me. I blushed. "Shut up," I said. We drove home. As Ryan dropped me off, he mentioned they might go to a party tonight and invited me to join. “I’ll let you guys know!” - It was 11pm and my parents had gone to bed, I had been playing video games on the PS5. I turned the PS5 off and was about to go upstairs when I heard my phone buzz. It was a text from Ryan. Ryan: You should come to the party with us. Dan: I would, but it's kind of late. Ryan: It's now summer and we're having fun. Dan: I'll think about it. Ryan: Dude, come on. Dan: Alright, alright. I got my car keys and left the house, and headed for Ryan's house. The drive is not far, but there are some dangerous intersections that I hate driving through. It was a warm summer night and the stars were shining brightly. I put on the radio and rolled down the window. I was about to turn a corner when a car ran a red light and hit the driver's side of my car. My body flew forward and hit the steering wheel hard. My car launched in the air, flipping for what felt like minutes. Then everything went black. - When I woke up, I was in the hospital. My mom and dad were at the foot of my bed. They looked at me with relieved expressions. I blinked and looked around, my eyes were adjusting to the light. My dad started to speak. "Oh thank god you're okay. We thought we lost you." My mom chimed in. "Your arm is broken, and your head suffered some serious trauma. We're glad you're alive." I smiled weakly at them. "Yeah, me too." My parents left the room so the doctor could examine me. He showed me the X-ray of my broken arm. The doctor said I was lucky to be alive. After the doctor left, I sat up in bed. I was trying to process what had just happened. I didn't remember the car accident, or the ride to the hospital. My mom came back in the room. "How are you feeling, honey?" “A little rough, but I’m alive so I’m thankful.” I was allowed to leave the hospital after a day because my wounds weren’t as bad as the doctors thought. My mom and dad took me home, where Joey was waiting for us. Joey looked concerned. "Dan, how are you?" "I'm fine. The doctors said I have a concussion and my arm is broken." - I went to sleep in my bed. Graduation was in a week and I hoped my broken arm wasn’t going to look dumb. I was dreaming that I was in a field and there were butterflies flying all around me. I felt my body growing. I looked down at my hands and they were bigger. I looked down at my arms and they were bulging with muscle. My chest was getting wider. My legs were growing too. My clothes started to rip and tear. My jeans were stretching to their limit. I felt my feet pushing through the ends of my shoes. I was growing. And then I woke up. I jumped out of bed, my heart pounding. What was that? Was that a dream or a nightmare? I was scared. Also my broken arm didn’t hurt anymore. Weird. Regardless, my cock had woken up and I needed to take care of it. Although my small stature, I was thankful for the gift of a fairly big cock. At 5’3, I was packing a solid 7 inch cock. I reached down and grabbed it, and began stroking myself slowly. I closed my eyes and thought about the dream, about my body growing. I thought about being able to look down at people, and tower over them. I pictured myself towering over Noah Martinez and making him take my cock. I imagined his mouth wrapped around my cock, his eyes looking up at me. I pumped my hand faster, and I could feel my orgasm building. I closed my eyes and let out a low groan as I came all over my chest. I felt the cum on my chest and stomach. Then I heard a ripping sound. My eyes snapped open. My jeans had ripped at the seams. My boxers were shredded. My shirt was torn to pieces. My cast had been ripped off of my arm. My heart was pounding. I was naked. I couldn't believe what was happening. I was growing. I ran over to my full length mirror and looked at myself. I was getting taller, and bigger. My legs were getting longer, and my feet were growing. My arms were bulging with muscles. My chest was expanding.My ass was growing too. My skin was stretching to accommodate my growing body. My cock was growing too. I couldn't believe how huge it was. i took a step forward and fainted. - I opened my eyes to my big brother look down at me. I was laying on the floor. "Dan? Are you okay?" He asked. "What happened? Why am I naked?" "I don't know. Your clothes were ripped to shreds." I got up and walked over to the mirror. Joey was still taller than me, but not by much. I looked at my body in the mirror. My arms were huge, my chest was broad, and my ass was round. My cock was long and thick. I felt the power in my body. “I’m gonna grab you some clothes” Joey said, and he walked out of the room. I went downstairs to the kitchen and got a drink of water. I was still in shock. What had just happened? Why did my body change?

Warning: This is a snuff story. Many people die senselessly and violently in it. Do not read further if that's not your thing. While Nick was off at the club, Tony had his own fun one night. Teenage Destroyers 7.75: Tony at the Starlight Motel Tony looked at his reflection in the mirror. “Gonna have fun tonight,” he thought to himself as he looked at his huge body. The improbably large teenager facing the mirror, smiling, was fucking huge; height, build, body, fucking everything about him was enormous! His face was strong, green eyes staring back at the mirror. He was 6’ 5” tall and he weighed over 300 pounds, all of it solid muscle. His skin shined as his muscles bulged underneath. He flexed his 28 inch arms and watched as his biceps bulged into gigantic balls of rippling fibers of muscle covered with veins. Tony pulled on a white shirt, almost see through from how tightly it stretched across his chest. His chest was massive, pecs so astoundingly large he looked like he could bury someone's head between them. Small rips had formed around their enormity from the stress they put on the garment, the same tears appearing around his mind-blowing biceps. He slid on a pair of black shorts. They clung more tightly to his legs than his shirt did to his torso, not even covering half of his quads, the barrel-sized start of his legs looking strong enough to crush watermelons! This teen god’s calves and feet were huge as well; practically every pound on him dedicated to pure, raw power. Between his legs, pushing out the front of her tight shorts, was an absolutely monstrous protuberance; even through the dark material there was no guessing what it was that was pulling the fabric even tighter around his waist. A gigantic, tubular bulge that curled on itself several times distended the dark fabric, making the material of his shorts almost sheer from the strain, the end of it creating a certain bell-shaped protrusion against one of his humongous thighs. "Aw fuck yeah!" He grinned at his reflection and squeezed his enormous bulge, anticipating the fun he was about to have. He headed out the door and drove down the highway. Room 101 Tony pulled in to the gravel lot of the Starlight Motel. Only a few cars were in the lot of this middle-of-nowhere building. This would do. He made his way to the lobby. Ben was manning the front desk this night, bored out of his mind. Everyone had checked in; a few traveling businessmen, a group of guys having a weekend rager, the usual crowd. He was about to lock up when he saw Tony walk in the door. His heart skipped a beat. Tony was stunning. He looked like he was made of granite. “Like what you see?” he said. “It’s Tony, by the way.” Tony extended his massive hand. "B-b-b-Ben." Ben stammered, "Holy shit! You’re fucking huge!” he blurted out. “You like big men like me, Ben?” Tony didn't even ask for a room. He didn't need to. Ben nodded slowly. He was totally smitten with big muscle men. “Yeah..."" Ben said, staring up and down Tony's godly form. "What the hell was a guy like him doing here?" Ben thought to himself, his head clouding with lust. Tony rotated his forearm, which looked about as big as Ben’s thigh, and totally ripped to shreds. “Jesus,” Ben gasped. “I-it's a slow night and I was gonna close up. Do you maybe want to come back to my room?” He couldn't believe he just said that, he never was so forward! Ben stood up quickly and pointed toward the door behind him. Tony smiled and followed. Ben turned off the lobby light and showed Tony to his place. Ben closed the door as Tony grabbed him from behind and squeezed his tight ass cheeks. He ran his hands over Ben's shoulders and rubbed his chest and caressed his nipples under his shirt. Ben's cock was hard. He felt Tony's strong chest against his back, warm and muscular. Tony's cock grew in his shorts. His other arm reached down to Ben's crotch and he squeezed at his balls and cock. Ben felt his hot breath on his neck. Tony whispered in his ear, "Let's get more comfortable." Ben led him to the bed. Tony slipped Ben's shirt off and rubbed his hands against his firm, smooth chest. Ben pulled off his jeans and lay on the bed. He looked down at Ben. His naked body looked inviting. His cock was hard and pulsated as dribbles of precum oozed out and dripped onto his stomach. Tony peeled off his shirt and shorts, revealing his massive frame. Ben was totally flabbergasted by the big man’s body. It was like granite. Golden skin, no hair, and a dick that was a good 10 inches soft. He whimpered and came without touching himself. “Holy fuck dude,” Ben said. “How much bigger does that thing get?” Tony smiled, grabbing his meat and swinging it like a club. “How much bigger do you want it to get?” Ben shook his head. “You're unreal,” he said. Tony chuckled. “I get that a lot. Suck this big tool, punk.” Ben gulped but he dove on it. He couldn't fit more than half of the growing member in his mouth, but his enthusiasm pleasured Tony. When Ben came up for air, he got a full view of the 16 inch long goliath between Tony's legs. It was bigger than his forearm! Tony eased Ben down on the bed, then covered Ben’s small, strong body with his own. It took both of Ben’s hands to circle Tony’s gigantic cock, he stared in wonder as he stroked the thick shaft. Tony positioned his hands on either side of Ben’s much smaller frame, the giant shaft of his monsterous cock slapping against Ben’s torso, stretching from his pubes to his pecs. Tony lifted his hips back, pulling himself from Ben's grasp. Ben felt Tony’s big dick begin to probe his manhole. He started to shake his head, to tell Tony no, but Tony just smirked back, pushing forward insistingly. Ben was aflame with desire. Never had he been with a man so huge, so built, so hard, so intimidating. Tony’s body was made of marble, completely unpliable, but his touch was like fire. “Give it to me,” Ben cried out. “I need it!” The teen god heeded the call, his member growing ever larger, thicker, his thrusting slow at first, but then quicker and more excited. It was only after Tony passed the 13-inch mark that Ben began to show signs of distress, and even those were submerged in the frenzy of his lust. Only at the very end did Ben seem to understand that something was amiss. Ben’s eyes began to bulge when he realized that Tony’s ever lengthening rod was going to puncture his sphincter. Ben looked down to see his abs distended as an orange-sized bulge—the head of Tony’s cock—was muscling up towards Ben’s sternum. “Tony,” he said between grunts. “Tony, what are you doing to me? I, uh, I don’t think…” The teen god put his big hand across Ben’s mouth. “Shut up,” he said. “Take it.” Ben closed his eyes, his passion continuing to build. Ben’s gasp of pain was muffled by Tony's hand, as was his shriek of pain when it became clear that Tony was going all the way to the hilt. Only when the muscle god’s tool bottomed out did Ben orgasm, its full mammoth expanse tearing his internal organs to shreds. “Tony,” Ben murmured. “Thank you…” His eyes closed as the life left his body, sending Tony over the edge. He groaned as he unloaded inside Ben's shredded innards, jet after jet filling his chest cavity. He held Ben's bloated body in his arms for another minute before lifting him off and dropping him at the foot of the bed. Tony was still horny. He flexed his still hard cock, spraying the last dregs of his orgasm across the floor. He heard the shower turn on in the next room. "Perfect," he thought. He headed next door. Room 102 Danny was enjoying a long shower after a full day on the road. Meeting after meeting had drained him, and he was looking forwards to heading home tomorrow. Steam filled the bathroom as he relaxed. He admired his lean muscles; he took pride in staying fit even when on the road. His thoughts drifted as he closed his eyes and relaxed. Suddenly, Danny could feel a presence, a change in the air. He turned to look behind him, and standing there was a huge monster of a man. Danny speechlessly ogled the vast expanse of the pectoral muscle that blocked his exit from the shower. He had to be six and a half feet all and covered in such muscle that he looked like a wall. Fully naked, a massive cock stood at attention, all the way up to between the giant's shelf-like pecs! Was this a dream? A nightmare? "WHAT THE-" he could barely get out a word before Tony shoved him against the shower wall so hard the air was forced out of his lungs. He slipped, bumped his head against the tile, and slid to the floor; Tony towered above him; naked, his cock fully erect and dripping with pre-cum. Tony squeezed at his balls and ran his hand up his lengthy shaft. He felt his veins, the blood pulsing, the hot water washing away the dried blood off his body and highlighting his pumped muscles. Danny looked up in awe and fear. His erection throbbed as he tried to see through the stars in his eyes. Tony pulled Danny up by the armpits, and while dizzy, Danny finally got a look at his giant assailant. Tony's handsome, boyish face atop an impossibly large body. His arms with biceps unflexed yet still so unbelievably huge and wide. Danny whimpered; he was breathtaking. "Aw fuck yeah, you'll do nicely." Tony rumbled. Danny wanted to scream but no noise could come out. Tony stepped forward, forcing Danny to stumble backwards again. He pressed his chest muscle up against Danny’s face. "Yeah," he grunts. Tony continued moving forward slowly, backing Danny into the wall of the bathroom. Tony wedged Danny’s face into his deep pectoral crevice, his skull pinned to the wall. "You want to lick these massive pecs, don’t you, bitch? I’ll bet you’re just dyin’ to." He chuckled. Danny’s head was caught between the deadly halves of Tony’s chest. He couldn’t see. All he could hear is Tony’s heart pumping strongly, the heat of the blood nourishing the muscle in which he was trapped. Danny couldn't help but run his hands over the slick pectorals rippling around him. Danny opened his mouth and let the tip of his tongue slowly draw a trail along the smooth skin of Tony’s mountainous pec. Tony grinned and put his palm behind Danny's head, pressing him into the bulging pectoral muscle, then slowly caused his chest to harden as he held Danny's head in place with his oaken arm. Danny was trapped, enclosed in a cocoon of steel-hard muscle, held fast in Tony’s powerful arms. Large, tunnel-like veins throbbed near the surface of the skin on his biceps and forearms. Danny’s naked torso was covered by Tony’s arms, roughly pressing the poor man against the cold tile and hot slabs of muscle. Danny began pounding on Tony's chest as the pressure increased upon his skull, suffocating him. "Oh hey sorry dude," Tony laughing, relaxing his pecs. "Guess I don't know my own strength," he lied, letting the poor man catch his breath. Tony lifted Danny up and positioned his ass over his pulsing teen cock and slowly brought him down onto the pre cum spurting cock head. He moaned deeply as his hot, throbbing fuck pole penetrated the doomed man's virgin ass. Danny screamed. Tony pushed Danny's head back between his pecs, muffling him. He wrapped his other arm around the man's waist and began fucking in earnest. He could feel his cock quiver with pleasure with each organ that tore as he drove further and further into the poor guy's body. Danny’s feet didn’t reach the floor. But he wasn’t going anywhere. Tony began to squeeze him tighter as he thrust, Danny's head trapped between his pecs. His eyes rolled back in their sockets as he faded in and out of consciousness, but somehow he knew what was about to happen. This was it. Tony's deadly arms slowly wound tighter and tighter around Danny. CRAAAACK! Danny’s twig-like arms snapped. Tony dug the bending of the ribs and the "pop" of bones breaking against his mass. As Tony’s arms tightened and flexed the muscles in them became absurdly rock-hard. Tony hissed out a pleasured, "Oh, FUCK yeah!" as he flexed his massive chest to rock hard fullness and Danny's face was crushed between the powerful teen's outstretched palm and his rippling pectoral. The sudden spray of blood on his chest sent Tony over the edge. As he reached orgasm, his dick shot great, steaming wads of cum into the broken man's body. Tony continued flexing as he unloaded, blood and cum spurting out of Danny's ass and mouth. Danny's limp body slid up and down through a thick layer of cum, burying his broken face under a mask of white. After a minute, Tony loosened his hold and transitioned into a most muscular pose. He brought his two giant fists together and flexed his deadly muscles, which allowed the twisted, broken corpse to slide to the floor. Danny's asshole was permanently resized, cum pouring from a gape large enough to fit a tennis ball. Tony’s body was covered with blood and jizz, which accentuated the peaks and valleys of his unthinkably lethal physique. He was breathing heavily, and his massive chest heaved with each breath. Tony relaxed, letting the hot water cleanse him. Tony shut off the water. He grabbed a towel and dried off, leaving Danny in a heap in the corner of the bathroom, blood pooling on the floor. "Aw yeah," Tony thought to himself, "tonight is getting so fucking good." Room 103 Jay sauntered leisurely out of his room, ice bucket in hand. His partner Dean was on the bed, watching TV. Jay made it just a few steps out the door when he glanced up and saw Tony emerge from the room next door, the huge bodybuilder fully nude, bloodlust in his eyes. Tony turned his head and spotted the poor man, an evil smile growing on his face. Jay almost stopped dead in his tracks, a voice in his head telling him that he had stumbled into something very bad. Both guys broke into a mad sprint towards the door to Jay and Dean's room. Tony swiftly seized Jay by his belt and grappled him into a headlock, squeezing the poor man's skull between his impenetrable lats and granite biceps. Jay kicked and punched as he tried to break free, but his efforts bounced uselessly off Tony's solid muscles. With Jay under one arm, Tony wrapped his hand around the doorknob. Jay tried to call out to warn Dean but couldn't breathe, his face turning red. Tony pressed his shoulder against the door and pushed. The wood splintered and popped, the door broke from the frame, and the knob came off in his hand. Tony pushed his way in. "OH MY GOD JAY!" Dean screamed. He ran to the two men, punching helplessly at Tony's arms. Tony laughed, his cock getting hard again. Dominanting these two weaklings so easily was making him so horny. With his other arm, he grabbed Dean by the throat and hoisted him up, holding him at arm's length. Jay let out a whimper as he saw Dean struggle. "Who are you? What do you want with us?!" Dean cried, tears welling in his eyes as he tried to pull Tony's hand open with both arms. "Just a guy looking for a good time," Tony chuckled. "And to fuck up some punks." With that he threw Dean onto the bed, his head hitting the headboard with a thud. "Time to watch your friend die." Tony said, staring straight into Dean's eyes. Tony lifted Jay up with both arms. With astonishing ease he hoisted him over his head, dropped to one leg, and savagely swung the man's spine straight down onto his knee, every muscle in his substantial frame suddenly exploding in size. The spinal column immediately broke in two, Jay seized and let out a sharp, gruesome yelp, his head thrown back. Dean cried as Tony dropped the broken body onto the bed. Tony tore off Jay's pants, and rammed his 16-inch beast into the man's ass. Dean tried to move, to grab his phone or get away, but he couldn't. He was paralyzed in shock as he looked into his partner's dying eyes. Jay was still alive, completely helpless. His eyes were frozen with fear and he shrieked as he felt his ass splitting in half to accomodate the enormous intruder, which effortlessly drove through his body, rupturing his sphincter muscles and pushing organs out of the way. The curved, symmetrical globes of Tony's ass tensed with hard muscle as he pumped his pelvis. Jay was completely submerged beneath the sweaty muscular mass and he was moaning, barely conscious. Tony stared into Dean's eyes as he pounded Jay, the feeling of completely dominating and destroying these two guys was making him harder than ever. He wrapped his arms around Jay's chest, lifting him up to give Dean a better look at the enormous bulge of Tony's cock punching its way through Jay's innards. Tony roared as he flexed his deadly arms around the dude's torso. There was a grisly crunching noise as the guy's chest caved inwards. "uh..uhhh....UHHHH!!!!!" Jay cried out loudly as his own ribcage imploded, his heart was compressed and instantly crushed against his deforming spine and bursting internal organs. His expression was frozen in shock, his mouth gasped twice, before his face relaxed. Dean let out a helpless wail. "Mmmppfff!!" Tony grunted and suddenly seized as his ass-muscles tightened in successive waves and his broad muscle-laden backside tensed and arched. Tony's hefty balls, wedged between his sweaty crotch and the dead man's ass-cheeks, summoned up a vast reservoir of jizz and purged nearly a pint of hot, sticky fluid into the welcoming anus. When he was finished, he unwrapped his arms, and pushed Jay's body off his cock. "Wh...why did you have to kill him?" Dean said, sniffling. "Because...snuffing punks like you makes me cum so hard." he whispered moving towards Dean, licking his lips, "And I know you enjoyed watching me destroy him. Your dick's been rock hard since I walked through that door." Tony growled. It was true, Dean's hand had been in his pants for most of Jay's destruction. He couldn't help but to cum at the sight of Tony's sweaty muscles, flexing and pumping as he fucked. He felt guilty and yet, his cock had never been harder staring at the teen god. "You want me more than you've ever wanted anything, don't you bitch? Look at me, look at my muscles." Tony whispered as he flexed, his sweat highlighting his unbelievable muscle. Without another word Dean reached out and began to rub his hands over the vast expanse of Tony's muscle packed thighs. "My God," he gasped, "your muscles are like steel!" "Kiss them weakling," Tony commanded. "Worship my body." Dean couldn't help but reach out and rub his hand across the expanse of Tony's rippling, blood slick chest. As he reached his massive pecs, Tony slowly flexed, securing Dean's hand in the deep crevice. He stared into Dean's eyes. "Before I snuffed your friend, I crushed the guy next door with my pecs. Broke his fucking face just by flexing. Then I fucked him and pumped him so full of cum it was shooting out both ends. The guy before him I skewered on my cock and filled him until he was more cum than blood." Dean gasped as he continued to feel the rippling, powerful muscle of this god. "You like that? You like hearing about me dominating little shits like you?" Tony taunted. He moaned as he erupted in orgasm, splattering Tony with his cum. Tony laughed and palmed Dean's head, using it to wipe the cum from his abs and chest, and guided Dean to his apple-sized cockhead. “Yeah, worship this fucking muscle beast,” murmured Tony as he slapped Dean with the 16 inch weapon. Dean's face was getting bruised by the long, thick weapon, but he was still worshipping Tony’s muscles, now running his hands on his huge legs and calves. Tony jammed his cock down Dean’s throat and started skullfucking him. With every thrust, he forced more and more of his oversized weapon in. Dean moaned and gagged as Tony fucked his face, a stream of hot precum pouring down his throat. Over a foot of thick, veiny meat pistoned its way in and out of Dean's throat. He began to drift in and out of consciousness, his airways being crushed by Tony's relentless pounding. Dean looked up pleadingly as Tony wrapped his huge hand around the dude’s neck and squeezed, crushing his esophagus and making more friction between the dude’s esophagus and his cock. “Yeah, feels good,” he said. “Your throat feels so fucking good!" Then he started thrusting harder and squeezing harder. Finally he yelled “Yeah, yeah, YEAH!” as he spurt gush after gush of cum down inside Dean’s stomach. Cum sprayed out of Dean's nostrils and the sides of his mouth. Tony felt Dean's body twitch as his lungs were flooded with muscle cum. His torso swelled until it looked like it would burst. When Tony finished, he pulled his cock out and squeezed Dean's neck until it snapped. "Aw yeah, fuckin' beast..." Tony growled as he flexed his arms. "Fuckin' bones me." Next door, he could hear music and multiple voices, chatting loudly. Tony smiled as he curled his arms, the night wasn't over yet. Room 104 The music blaring from Room 104 was so loud that the four guys inside hadn't heard the screaming and banging noises from the rooms down the hall. As they sat around chugging beers, suddenly the door to their room burst open with a loud crack. Tony strutted into the living room, fully nude. The guys looked at the huge teen in shock. "WHAT THE FUCK?!" The guys jumped up, not sure if they should run or fight. “I’m lookin’ for some dudes. I wanna fuck ‘em up.” he said, his massive body filling the doorway. The men stared, slackjawed, at the teen's gargantuan, rippling torso...They had never seen so much vein encased, rippling muscle on any man, no matter what age. The teen had the neck of a bull, triceps as large as a man's head and boulderous biceps...his pectorals hung out, defying gravity, rippling with power...his dark brown, silver dollar sized nipples pointing straight down to his deep 8 pack abs and shockingly narrow waist. Between his legs hung the longest, thickest cock they'd ever seen on any man, perfectly framed between his chiseled legs. One of the guys, Pete, pissed himself at the sight, even as he felt his cock twitch. He had never imagined any being so huge, so perfect, so sexual. His breathing got rapid and he started to sweat profusely. All four guys couldn't help themselves, their cocks sprung to life at the sight of the rock hard anatomy chart of rippling muscle standing before them. Tony stroked his cock as he saw his effect on the men. It began to pulse and rise, throbbing at full mast before the muscle teen's heaving, rippling pectorals, a string of pre-cum slowly stringing from the slit in it's massive crown. "So, who wants first?" Tony growled, flexing. His lats filled the doorway, blocking their exit. The four men looked at each other, a mix of confusion, fright, and sexual attraction filled their heads. The closest two guys, Chris and Paul, ran at Tony and started throwing punches at him. He laughed as their fists bounced harmlessly off his rock hard body. Tony grabbed the backs of the shirts of the attackers and held them at his sides. He smashed his hands together like he was doing dumbbell flys, smashing their two bodies together. Their faces hit each other, breaking their noses and jaws. He smashed them together again and then let them fall to the floor. Their faces were broken and their chests were battered and bruised. Paul started crawling towards the door. Tony laughed evilly. He smashed down with his tree trunk of a leg, breaking his thigh bone with the powerful blow. Then he did the same thing with the other thigh bone. “You’re not goin’ anywhere, bitch,” he said as Paul writhed in pain. “And neither are you,” he said to Chris who was looking at him in awe and fear. Tony hoisted him up by his shirt and spun him around. Chris suddenly felt Tony's impossibly thick forearm reach across his sternum and the palm firmly grip his shoulder, while the other palm swiftly enwrapped his mouth. Tony savagely jerked the guy's head hard to the right. “I’m gonna fuck you all to death.” Tony declared as he dropped Chris' body to the floor. Pete and Brent, the remaining two men in the room, were frozen in fear. They couldn't believe how fast and brutal Tony was. Paul lay on the ground, barely breathing but alive. Chris' body lay at Tony's feet, his head bent the wrong way around. As if to make his point, Tony bent over and pulled Chris up by the head. He cupped his palms on either side and began to squeeze. His deltoids and triceps began to swell and channel a deadly, muscle-driven force down his arms, all of the destructive energy flowing straight into Chris's skull. The head imploded between his clenched hands with a sudden upwelling of blood, skull fragments and brain matter. "FUCK YEAH!" Tony roared triumphantly. He flexed his insane body, every inch of him appearing to double in size. Tony's cock spurt a jet of precum, landing at Pete's feet. Pete shuddered, the wet spot in his pants growing again. He had never seen such a huge, muscular person in his life. "NO!" Brent squealed, the sight of Chris' crushed head shocking him to his senses. He hopped to his feet and tried to dash behind Tony towards the door. But Tony was too fast, clotheslining Brent with his rock-solid arm. He pulled Brent up until he was eye-level with his goliath cock, a steady stream of precum now dripping from its head. Tony swayed his hips, beating Brent's face with his hard member and coating it in clear slime. "What the fffuck! Let go! LET GO of me!" Brent sputtered as his body thrashed and bucked. Tony erupted into laughter as he watched the utter uselessness of the weaker man's attempts to pry away his vice-like grip. He laid back on the bed, dragging Brent with him. He pressed his cockhead to Brent's lips. "Put it in your mouth and suck on that shit." Brent tried to resist, but one thrust from Tony sunk the solid head straight into his mouth. Tony could feel the warmth of Brent's mouth pleasingly envelope around his dick. He placed his palms on Brent's skull and began to firmly guide it in and out, in and out, and a long moan escaped his lips as he felt that tight throat slide against his oversized meat. Tony swung his legs up and clamped his thick calves around the man's neck, then swiftly jerked him forward and drew the face deeper into his crotch, locking his ankles tight behind his back. Brent's face quickly went beet red as the thighs closed further in, squished against his cheeks and forcing his mouth to open wider, letting Tony shove his full length inside. "Hey, buddy." Tony said to Pete who was sitting in the corner, wide-eyed. He had undone his pants and was jerking himself as he watched Tony. "How powerful do you think my legs are, huh? Do you think-"Tony flexed and his quads swelled to unbelievable proportions. Brent squawked as the crushing pressure amplified tenfold. "You think..." Tony grunted, "...I could fucking....err...break his neck?" He twisted his hips sharply. Pete nearly jumped when he heard the swift, sharp crack of the neck snapping. A wild spasm twitched through the man's body, his arms flew up in the air, then flopped limply to his sides. The sound sent Tony over the edge, his cock blasting pure white jizz straight into Brent's stomach. Tony grunted and flexed as he unloaded, Brent's head nearly buried under the mass of Tony's thighs. When he was done, Tony closed his eyes for a moment, a look of deep satisfaction on his face. Tony unlocked his legs and pushed Brent to the floor. Brent's stomach was bloated, as if he had chugged a keg. His head was bent forward, cum and blood seeping from his nostrils, ears, and mouth. Tony stood up and looked down at Paul, the other man who had charged at the beginning. His breathing was ragged; Tony's dumbbell flys with him and Chris had cracked a few ribs. Tony smiled, his cum-covered cock still throbbing hard. Tony picked up Paul and bent him over the edge of the bed. He ripped off Paul's clothes and slapped his ass. “You ever been fucked, dude? You ever had a huge piece of muscle stud meat jammed up your little ass?” Paul looked at Tony in fear and shook his head. He was a total virgin. Tony rubbed his cock and turned Paul around. In one huge thrust, Tony rammed his 16-inch long cock up the man’s ass. The hard weapon broke Paul’s sphincter muscles and smashed through his intestines. Tony started thrusting his hips at the same time he was pulling back on the dude’s shoulders with his huge arms. Tony’s abs were like bricks of muscle, pounding his huge cock in and out of the guy’s bleeding asshole. A beer can sized bulge pushed out of Paul's abdomen, stretching the skin so taut that the outline of Tony's cockhead was easily seen with each thrust. "Aw yeah dude, tearing you apart!" Tony growled as he sped up. Paul's blood and guts lubricated the deadly monster, amplifying Tony's pleasure. Paul's guts bulged out further, as Tony bent him backwards. Spasms of pain surged through Paul's body, contracting his ass muscles and giving Tony even more pleasure. Suddenly Tony’s cock burst through the Paul’s abs. The power of his muscles was so great that he forced his cock all the way through the man’s body. Tony roared as he saw his blood-covered monster cock sticking out of Paul's shredded guts. He came as he fucked the dude’s dying body, spurting gush after gush of his perfect cum onto the bed and floor in front of them. “Fuckin’ weaking,” he said as he pulled out his cock and dropped the lifeless body to the floor. Tony looked around the room, breathing heavily from his last fuck. Blood was smeared across his chest and dripping down his legs, highlighting the contours of Tony's bulging muscles. Pete sat in the corner of the room, quietly moaning as he came down from cumming again when he watched Tony fuck and snuff his friend. Tony swaggered over to Pete, his powerful arms swaying by his sides, swollen with killing-power. Tony pulled Pete to his feet and the two of them stood in front of the floor-length mirror. The contrast between their bodies was incredible. Tony completely dwarfed the little man. Tony grabbed the man's ass. "You got a sweet little ass, man," he said. "My big cock's gonna love that tight little ass." Pete shuddered as he realized that Tony's monster was level with his shoulders. Would it go all the way through him? Tony flexed his thighs. His huge quads sprang to attention, rippling with mass and cuts. He had way more muscle in one of his thighs than the man had in his whole body. He spun Pete around so he was facing him and grabbed the man's hands, guiding them to his chest. "Feel a real man's muscle, wimp," he said. Pete ran his fingers over the huge, flexed muscles. His cock started to harden again as he felt the young giant's huge muscles. Tony looked down and smiled as he saw the effect his body was having on the smaller man. Pete couldn't help himself as his dick got harder and harder. He was getting turned on by Tony's body even though he knew that body was going to fuck him and then kill him within a matter of minutes. Tony grabbed the hair on the back of the man's head and pushed his face into his thick, hard blood-covered cock. "Lick it clean," he ordered. Pete started licking Tony's huge 16 inch weapon. Tony kept hold of the man's head and moved him up and down over his huge cock. His cock started twitching with pleasure as the man's tongue caressed it. He started licking Tony's huge balls, balls that were the size of big lemons. Tony groaned with pleasure as he felt the man's little tongue on his huge balls. Pete moaned as he tasted Tony's precum, lapping at the giant head like a fountain. After his cock was clean of Brent's remains, Tony pulled Pete to his feet. "I wanna fuck," growled Tony. Pete looked into Tony’s eyes and said. “I want you to fuck me the hardest you have ever fucked. I want to give you the best fuck ever.” Tony was caught offguard. Did this guy *want* to be snuffed? He'd fucked plenty of muscle-crazed worshippers, but they were usually begging for mercy by the end of it. Without asking, Pete answered his question by raising his head and kissing Tony's neck. “Fuck me. Fuck the shit out of me,” he said. He was completely drunk on lust. He started kissing Tony’s body, feeling those big hard muscles. “Aw yeah dude! Look at the body of the biggest fucking musclegod on earth! Tell me I’m a monster and a beast! Tell me I’m a god! Worship me, you muscleslut!” Pete's complete submission to him made Tony hornier than ever. Tony wrapped his left arm around Pete's thin chest. With his right hand he grabbed his cock and guided it to just the right place at the man's tight ass crack, just barely touching the soft flesh of the man's round butt. Tony picked him up and slid his meat between Pete's legs. Even from behind him, Tony's cock stuck out twice as far as Pete's. The heat radiating from Tony's meat made the smaller man whimper. Pete took a deep breath, knowing what was about to come. Without a word, Tony lifted Pete into the air and jammed his rock hard cock into Pete’s ass. Pete’s eyes got bright and his cock got even harder. “Oh god, oh god!’ he yelled and he shot a huge spurt of cum all over his chest. Tony held the man by the chest and raised him up and down on his cock, only stuffing a foot of his massive meat inside. He watched his image in the mirror as his huge muscles lifted the man up and down on his cock like it was nothing. He felt the muscles of the man's ass try to tighten around the head of his cock as he lifted the ass up, but he knew his cock was too big and hard for those little muscles to resist when he forced himself in again. After a few minutes of this, he let go with his hands, Pete dangling in the air impaled on Tony's beast. "Look, my cock is stronger than you," he laughed, "It can lift your pathetic little body like a feather." He twitched his cock and Pete bounced up and down. "How does it feel to be lifted off your feet by just my fucking monster cock, bitch?!" smirked Tony looking at their reflection in the mirror. He swayed his hips causing his hard-on and the man perched atop to swing madly from side to side. "I…..I….." Pete trailed off losing the power of speech. His whole body bounced up and down as Tony's mighty knob throbbed inside his ass. "I can't take this anymore….." moaned Pete, pleasure pulsating through his body, "I'm gonna…..gonna….." Pete moaned and came, spraying his load on the mirror. Tony gripped Pete's hips and held him in place, the smaller man's orgasm pleasuring his own rod. Pete stared at their reflection, the mountain of muscle surrounding him. "Please," he begged. "Let me worship you!" Pete cried. Tony corkscrewed Pete on his cock to face him. Pete shoved his face into Tony's pecs, feeling the hard muscles as Tony fucked him harder and harder. He called Tony a beast, a god. He moaned as he recounted how easily Tony destroyed his friends. With his talk and his worshipping, he brought Tony to an absolute peak of erotic pleasure as Tony fucked his little ass. Then, with one incredibly powerful thrust of his hips, Tony rammed his cock all the way into the man's ass, forcing all 16 inches inside. Pete felt his guts tear apart, pain shooting through his body, blood pooling beneath him. Tony covered Pete's mouth, muffling his cries as he thrust his full length into him. "This what you wanted right?" Tony said softly into Pete's ear, "Thinking about my awesome strength. Do you like the way my body feels? Huh? Your ass is so fucking tight man..." Pete was barely conscious, he could barely see the stud’s handsome face and incredibly muscular torso through the mind fog. Even now he felt aroused looking at this huge young bodybuilder even though he was about to die. "Please...fuck...harder..." Pete managed to gasp out, before his eyes closed. Tony smiled. Tony crushed Pete against the mirror, completely covering him with his 300 pounds of muscle. He started fucking again, this time not holding back. Then they heard bones cracking. Pete’s pelvis was cracking apart from Tony’s powerful thrusts. More and more tissues were destroyed by his huge weapon. He pummeled Pete's heart from the inside, enjoying the feeling of its rapid vibrations against his cockhead. Tony was now panting and yelling in erotic bliss. He was ready for the final burst of pleasure. "These fucking guns are gonna pop your head off!" Tony declared as he wrapped his arm around Pete's neck and flexed his big bicep, crushing his windpipe. "God that feels good," said Tony, as Pete turned red. Tony flexed and unflexed his arm a dozen times, hearing and feeling the big muscle bash itself into the poor man's neck, crushing more and more windpipe. Pete couldn’t breathe. Tony pressed him up against the mirror as he rammed his cock into Pete's ass. Even though Pete was near death, he was rock hard as he felt Tony’s huge body envelope him. Cum oozed out of his cock as he started to die. Tony rammed his huge cock in and out hard. The mirror cracked as Tony slammed Pete against it, over and over. "Fuckin' strong muscle!" yelled Tony. Pete started drooling and gasping. He drifted out of consciousness. Finally, Tony pulled his arm up, pulling on Pete's chin. "Time to say goodbye," said Tony. Then he flexed hard and held it, watching his rock hard muscle smash that neck. puh-puh-puh-POP! The enormous force of his rock hard bicep literally popped the vertebrae in Pete's neck. The sound and feel of these vital bones parting sent Tony over the top. He seized as his orgasm sent shuddering waves of pleasure through his god-like body, and an enormous reservoir of hot cum flooded the bloody canals of the dead man's anus. Spasms surged through Pete’s body. Tony spurted over and over for over two minutes. After many blasts of cum Tony finally stopped and pulled his huge cock out of Pete’s mangled body. Pete's body crumpled on the floor, a look of bliss on his face. The big beast took a few moments to flex and admire himself in the mirror, breathing heavily and finishing the impromptu posing session with a double biceps pose and a deep, "Yeaaahhhh." "Awww, fuckin' A... fuck 'em all to death..." Tony mused, as he walked out of the room, effortlessly kicking bodies aside that lay in his way, his huge semi-erect cock swaying back and forth before him like some lethal biological weapon. Room 105 "Yes, God yes, give it to me." Steven lay spread eagle on the bed, teasing Karl. Karl smiled at his lover, his 9 inch cock at attention. They had been waiting all week to get out of town and planned to enjoy every second. Karl thrust forward and buried his entire shaft in Steven. "Its huge, give it to me Karl," Steven groaned. Karl growled and leaned in for a kiss, speeding up his thrusts. For a quarter of an hour the pounding continued. "Oh God yes!" "Drill me, fuck yes, oh God it's filling me." Steven loved it. When Karl fucked him he could see stars, lodged on his big dick. Karl loved hearing Steven go crazy over his cock. Feeling himself getting close, he slowly pushed his dick up to the hilt inside of his lover, told him how sexy he was and how he needed him and shot his thick spunk deep into him. Steven cried out as he came simultaneously. The first shot hit him clean in the face and sprayed down across his chest and over the bed. Shot after shot sprayed the two of them, strings of white dripping off their faces as they rode out their orgasms. The two of them were so caught up in their lovemaking that they failed to notice the door to their room open and a dark shadow silently emerge. The two of them laid on the bed enjoying the afterglow of their fuck, Karl still on top of Steven as they closed their eyes and kissed. Tony smirked in the darkness and pounced. "WHAT THE - " Karl exclaimed before the breath was knocked out of him. Steven's eyes shot open as he saw Karl try to get up, only to have his hands pinned down. "Ow! What are you doing?!" Karl yelled. The weight of another person, a much bigger person, crushed Karl into him even more and he grunted. Karl's head was shoved into a pillow, muffling him as Steven felt the stranger thrust forward against Karl's arse. Steven tried to swing his arms and fight, but his blows landed uselessly against the rock-hard torso of the assailant. Steven groaned "no"as he tried to fight back, to no avail. "Get off him, you bastard!" Steven shouted. He finally caught a glimpse of Tony, the immense size of his body was unreal! This couldn't be happening! Karl shouted "no, please" as he felt Tony shift and prod his giant dick against his asshole. "Oh God, Jesus that's big. Fuck that cock is too big!" There was a fierce thrust as a huge cock entered his ass. Karl screamed. Steven felt a spurt of hot fluid splash against his ass as Tony's goliath tore Karl's asshole open. "Ohh God!" The two of them cried out, Karl in agony, Steven in terror. Tony pulled back and thrust again, hard. Onward and onward he pressed, his arms pinning the two men down as he speared Karl. Karl's cock pressed into his boyfriend's ass and Steven felt the sickening power of the man above him as Tony started to unceremoniously fuck the two of them. Steven could feel every movement as he was forced to take his boyfriend's cock with Tony's every thrust. He could feel Karl writhe and shudder until he came, spraying Steven's insides again. Steven cried out as he came as well, his cock squished tightly between him and Karl as Tony bore down on them. His heart was breaking but his mind was in turmoil as he felt himself get hard again from the relentless thrusting. Tony went into overdrive and drove his huge monster into Karl's ass as Karl struggled to get his words out: "Ohhh, so fucking big, so much ..." Karl was drifting in and out of consciousness as the massive cock tore through his insides. Steven lay trapped under his boyfriend and their assailant and felt the powerful thrusts of a man raping his boyfriend and his heart was filled with sorrow and humiliation. But it went on and on, thrust after thrust after thrust. Karl's face was pressed against his, preventing either of them from seeing Tony. All Steven could feel was 2 bodies thrusting violently and the sound of Tony's balls slapping against his boyfriend's tight ass with each thrust. Steven felt faint as the weight of the two bodies on top of him crushed him further into the bed. He was mercifully unconscious when Tony's cock tore through Karl's lungs and erupted. He didn't hear Karl gasp, "It's blasting into me, fuck ... how much cum, oh fuck!!" Or Karl's coughs as his lungs were flooded with superior jizz. Or Karl's cock shooting his last load inside him as he finally succumbed to his injuries. Tony groaned again as he tightened his grip on Karl's hips as he pushed his titanic cock deeper still into his body. Another blast jetted from his firmly entrenched tool. Karl lay on top of Steven, unmoving and silent as Tony continued to empty his balls into his chest. Cum and blood flowed out of Karl's mouth, dripping onto Steven's unconscious face. If he hadn't died of internal injuries, Tony's orgasm definitely drowned him. Every few seconds Karl's body jerked as if shocked by electricity as life left his body. After a while Tony slowly began to withdraw his still fully erect cock from Karl's thoroughly fucked apart body. He groaned as he felt the wide rim of his flared out cockhead drag through Karl's shredded intestines. Tony's still fully erect monster popped free with a wet slurping sound, and Karl's corpse gave one last full body shiver as his broken asshole relinquished his cum-slick manmeat. As soon as it was free, a steady stream of warm sperm and blood poured from his gaping hole. Tony grabbed Karl by the waist and flipped him off of the bed. The sudden change in pressure shocked Steven awake. The bottom man gasped for air as his eyes shot open. He stared, mouth agape at the sweaty, muscular stud and his twitching erection kneeling on the end of the bed. “Oh… fuck…” Steven gasped, dazed. His nostrils flared as he got a huge breath of his assailant’s pure alpha musk, the thick layer of cum coating his face was overwhelming. His eyes shifted to the cock between Tony’s legs, a massive throbbing baseball bat covered in blood and cum. God, it was as thick as his fucking arm! A cock like that would completely destroy his ass! “It's...gonna kill me!” he moaned. "That's the idea." Tony smiled, nonchalantly jacking his still hard cock. Tony grabbed the man and lifted him over his throbbing cock head and then entered him. Steven tried to scream but the pain was too intense. There was a pop as his hip bones stretched. Steven’s tongue fell from his mouth and his body exploded in a firecracker orgasm just from being entered by such a monster pipe. Tony impaled the man slowly and began masturbating with the doomed man's little body. He made sure he was facing his little fuck buddy as he began to impale him deeper and deeper with each thrust until half of his meat was inside. “Now here comes the fun part.” Tony said as he pulled his cock all the way out, leaving only the massive tip of the head in, “time to die!” With another loud grunt, Tony thrust with all his strength as his bitchbreaker tore Steven apart. This act knocked the wind out of Steven, and he gasped for air as he simultaneously had the biggest orgasm of his life. With a cruel glint in his eyes, Tony lifted himself up and grabbed Steven’s ankles and placed them on his shoulders: it was time for the mating press. Thrusting with the same full strokes as before, Tony’s beastly cock stretched out Steven’s insides more and more. The bed creaked and rocked, the headboard slamming into the wall as Tony fucked Steven into the bed harder and harder. “You’re fucking up my body! Oh my god oh my god oh my god..” An overwhelming feeling of fullness came over Steven that gradually faded to numbness as his guts were churned up and he shut his eyes forever. "Awwww! Fuck YEAH!" Tony boomed as he flexed his rippling ass and shoved the spasming body of his fuck toy to the base of his throbbing dick, stabbing Steven's heart with his cock. With that, Tony began to cum. Cum filled his chest and then poured out of his mouth. It also erupted from the seal his wrecked asshole made around Tony's murderous tool. Tony fell forward onto the bed as he blasted jet after jet of muscle cum into the smaller man. He wrapped his arms around Steven's torso and squeezed, groaning as he felt Steven's ribs crack and pop. The broken ribs rubbed up against his erupting meat, sending waves of pleasure through the muscle god's body. Steven’s mouth fell open and cum flowed out of his mouth in a thick stream. Tony continued cumming for another minute before it was over. Tony relaxed on top of Steven, the smaller man's body completely covered by the giant teen. After a few minutes of relaxation, Tony stood up, letting Steven's body fall to the floor on top of Karl's. A river of white poured out of Steven's stretched-open asshole, like his boyfriend. Both of their faces were unrecognizable, buried under a deep layer of thick jizz. Tony stretched, looking down at his last two kills with satisfaction. The two bodies laid on the floor, a puddle of cum spreading underneath them. Dawn Tony headed home as the sun started to peak over the horizon. When he got home, he walked into his room and stood before the mirror. He thought about what he had just done. Ten guys fucked to death in a night, a new record! The sounds of their bones breaking. The feeling of his cock tearing through their guts. The rush he felt as he drowned them in his load. He had dominated them all with the enormous power of his 300+ pounds of muscle and his massive 16 inch cock. He was a fucking god. As he thought about it and looked at himself in the mirror he started rubbing his body. His face still looked like the face of a teenager, but his body looked like the wet dream of a Mr. Olympia competitor. He thought about how easy it was for him to smash his victims with his huge muscles. His traps bulged out from his neck. He watched his delts bulge like bowling balls of thick shredded muscle on his shoulders. His massive arms, as big as most guys' legs, rippling with muscle and covered with veins. He clenched his hands into fists and watched his forearms and biceps bulge, admiring the arms that snapped necks and crushed skulls. He watched his lats flare out - thick wings of solid muscle that crushed the chests of his toys like they were made of little sticks. Tony raised his arms and kissed his biceps. He watched his abs flex, and his huge legs. His cock throbbed between his pecs as he worshipped himself, the monster that tore apart asses and mouths and smashed through their insides. He hefted his giant balls, heavy with a neverending supply of jizz. He thought about how he could snuff a guy just by cumming. Fuck, he was incredible! He grabbed his cock with both hands and moaned, "FUCK YEAH!” and his cock started blasting cum, spurting gush after gush of cum on the ceiling, splashing back down onto his massive form. It was one of the best orgasms he had ever had. He took a shower and fell asleep happily.

I wrote this story last year as part of a collaboration with @lionlouis who asked for volunteers to write captions or stories for the illustrations he made for a muscle growth Advent calendar. The illustrations were provided as story prompts, and a few of us wrote whatever we wanted to fit the pictures. This was the unfinished illustration that inspired the story. The completed, colored illustration appears below at the appropriate place within the story. Fred Gets Fed By Fallen Away with an illustration by lionlouis Fred replied to an ad in the classified section of a local newspaper he picked up on his way out of the grocery store. He didn’t know there were still old-school personal ads in any newspaper, but this one had all the usual categories – M seeking F, F seeking M, M seeking M, etc. The last category was labeled “Alternative.” Those were often interesting to read, and that’s where he saw the ad: “Wealthy M seeking slim-waisted, hungry M, age 18 to 35, who is ready and willing to be stuffed with all the food this generous enabler can fit into his growing body. Please reply with a recent photo of exposed waistline. Dick pics will be disqualified.” Fred never imagined there were people who would provide this service. Ever since he took an interest in bodybuilding at the late age of thirty-one, he struggled with the bulking phase recommended in all the books and articles he read. No matter how much he ate, he couldn’t acquire the soft layer of fat he saw on the younger men at the gym. Building muscle, on the other hand, was much easier than he expected. In fact, his gains had been so rapid that those young guys started calling him ‘Roid Boy’ in a very disrespectful way. Fred never even considered using steroids, and if he knew where to get some, he couldn’t afford them on his salary as a newly minted librarian with staggering student loan payments. He also couldn’t afford any of the supplements those guys were always swallowing. He could barely afford groceries. So, it was understandable that he would be excited about this ad in the paper. It was like a dream come true. He met the criteria – he was thirty-three years old, he had a shredded thirty-inch waistline, and he was always ravenously hungry. Fred bought the cheapest food available – family packs of low-grade ground beef; whole turkeys when they were on sale; mountains of instant ramen noodles; huge jars of Dollar Store peanut butter; dozens of boxes of generic macaroni and cheese with packets of glowing orange cheese powder; and 8 lb. cartons of lard as a substitute for expensive butter. He ate as much of that stuff as he could afford. He would never tell anyone at the gym what he was eating; he knew it was all wrong. And he was too shy to talk to those guys anyway. They were all so full of themselves and were often mean to anyone who didn’t live up to their standards. That included him, even though his stats were better than any of theirs. Who knew what their standards were? Fred just stayed away from them and focused on lifting heavier weights every week. It seemed like he would be maxing out the weight sets pretty soon. He wondered who would be in charge of ordering more when he needed them. After seeing the ad, Fred didn’t hesitate to take a photo of his narrow, flat-bellied waist, and another of his driver’s license to prove his age. The weight shown on his license was about 50 lbs. lower than his current weight, but the ad didn’t ask about that, so he assumed it wouldn’t matter as long as his waist was slim. He composed a text message stating that his appetite was never satisfied, and even if it were, he would probably keep eating as much as he could as long as there was food available. He attached the photos and sent it to the mobile number listed in the ad. About ten minutes later, he was surprised to see an incoming call from that number. With trembling hands, he answered the call. The man on the other end introduced himself as George and immediately said how excited he was to receive Fred’s photograph. “From what I can see, you must be some kind of athlete. Is that right?” “Well, I work out regularly, but I never played sports. Is that a requirement? I used to go bowling occasionally.” George assured him that it was not a requirement. “I’ve just never had an applicant who had no visible fat under his skin.” Fred apologized for his condition and said, “I hope you can fix that. I really need the help of an expert like you. I would be so grateful if you could fatten me up.” There was no way Fred could have known this, but George felt dizzy because so much blood had rushed into his penis when he heard Fred’s plea. “You’re perfect!” he exclaimed. “Are you free this weekend?” “I’m free every weekend, and I’m a lifetime member of the ‘clean plate club.’ There won’t be a scrap of food left in your house if that’s what you want. I’m just so grateful for your generosity.” George was swooning. “He plays the role so well,” he thought. “This can’t be his first time.” He couldn’t wait to meet this skinny young man with such a big appetite. He felt as though he hit the jackpot. He gave Fred his address and told him to show up at 8:00 am for a huge breakfast to start the day. Fred was salivating at the thought. “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll be there early, and you’ll hear my stomach growling before I even knock on the door!” As soon as the call ended, George was masturbating. He was quickly rewarded with the best orgasm he’d had in years. He wiped himself clean with a damp cloth and headed out to a warehouse grocery store to get another carload of high calorie food on top of the ample supply he already had in the basement. ***** As promised, Fred was on George’s doorstep at ten minutes to eight on Saturday morning. The size of the house was proof that George had been honest when he described himself as wealthy. George had been up since the crack of dawn to prepare for Fred’s arrival. When he opened the front door, he was so startled he took a quick step backwards and stared at Fred with his mouth hanging open. This was not the man he had pictured. Not at all. Fred was about 6-foot-2 and muscular, like a bodybuilder. His shoulders were almost as wide as the doorway, but his waist was just as lean and narrow as it looked in the photograph. George would have been intimidated by his powerful physique, but one look at his pleasant, gentle face reassured him that he had nothing to fear. With his round, wire-rimmed glasses, he looked like a schoolteacher or an accountant. He was obviously not the type of arrogant jock George would associate with such an impressive body. Fred was excited to be there but was confused by the look on George’s face. “He’s disappointed,” he thought, and his self-doubt swooped in to plant a cruel assumption: “Am I really that ugly?” He tried to guess what was wrong. “I’m sorry, am I too early? I can wait out here for a while and you can just let me know when…” “No! Not at all. Please come in, Fred. I was just surprised that you’re so muscular. I don’t usually get… I mean most of the guys who respond to my ad are not…” He was trying to think of a way to describe what Fred was not. “Well… they don’t exercise at all, so…” “I’m sorry,” said Fred. “I exercise too much. I’m kind of obsessed.” “You have nothing to apologize for. Your physique is amazing.” “Oh, I don’t know about that.” Fred blushed. He was less comfortable with compliments than he was with criticism. George saw his cheeks get red and thought, “He’s adorable.” He extended his arm for a handshake. “I’m pleased to meet you. I’m George.” Fred accepted his handshake. “I’m Fred. But you probably knew that.” “Well, I hope you’re hungry.” “You have no idea.” “I probably made too much of everything.” “I doubt it. I’ve never felt so full that I couldn’t eat more.” George liked the sound of that. “Let’s get started, then. We can talk while I watch you eat.” He showed Fred into his elegant dining room and had him sit at the head of the table. “You’ll be eating with me, right?” “Maybe a little. After cooking all morning, I don’t have much of an appetite.” “I never understand what people mean when they say that. How do you make your appetite go away?” “Umm… by eating? Let me bring out some food, then we can continue talking.” George went into the kitchen and reappeared pushing a metal cart loaded with platters and bowls heaped with food. Fred’s eyes grew big at the sight of it all. His stomach growled loudly. “Please start eating, don’t wait for me. Start with these eggs before they get cold.” George placed what looked like a mixing bowl in front of Fred. It held the largest pile of scrambled eggs Fred had ever seen. “You can eat with the serving spoon. It’ll be faster.” Fred didn’t need to be asked twice. He grabbed the spoon, wrapped his arm around the bowl as if to say, “All mine!” and he started eating. With the first mouthful, he realized the eggs were scrambled with cheddar cheese. They were so delicious, he moaned loudly, almost like he was having an orgasm. (He was not having an orgasm… yet.) He just kept shoveling the cheesy eggs into his mouth and swallowing as fast as he could. Meanwhile, George was filling the table with platters and bowls full of different breakfast foods: fried potatoes, crisp bacon and sausages, buttermilk biscuits, creamy grits, blueberry muffins, and fresh fruit salad. He placed a large pitcher of orange juice near Fred’s right hand and said, “You don’t need a glass. Just drink from the pitcher.” Fred picked it up and downed half of the juice in a few gulps, then started scraping the bottom of the egg bowl. “I’ll take that if you’re done,” said George. “I need to bring out the pancakes and French toast.” Fred handed him the bowl and immediately reached for the fried potatoes with one hand and the platter of meat with the other hand. He had a slice of bacon in his mouth before he finished swallowing the last spoonful of eggs. While he was in the kitchen, George tried to understand why someone like Fred would want to be fattened up. He had a feeling Fred was not familiar with the terms “gainer” and “encourager,” but was interested in gaining fat for some other, non-sexual reason. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but Fred seemed like a sweet man, and he had all this food now… “I might as well see how this plays out. After all, he is kind of sexy. It would be hot to see him with a blubbery gut.” George wheeled the cart back to the dining room just in time to see Fred finishing up the fruit salad. All the other dishes were empty except for two biscuits and one blueberry muffin. “Wow! That was fast, Fred. How did you eat all that food so quickly?” “I’m not sure. I’m surprised, too. I guess I was just so hungry I couldn’t stop. But I tasted every bit of it. Those grits were delicious. Do you have any more of those?” “Yes, there’s more in the pot, I can reheat them. Your tummy must be getting nice and round after all that food. Do you mind if I check it?” “Umm… no one has ever asked me that before, but I don’t see why not. I mean, that’s what I need help with, so… sure. Let me take off this hoodie, I’m feeling too warm.” As Fred pulled off his grey fleece jacket, George tried to get a better look at his proportions. His waist was remarkably narrow, so his torso looked like an upside-down triangle. It also made his round butt look like it stuck straight out, like a shelf. “There’s no shortage of meat in that department,” thought George. “Maybe he’ll let me investigate it later.” Fred was wearing a long-sleeved cotton button-up shirt with the tails hanging out over his dark green corduroy pants, so his belly was still well covered. George walked right up to him and said, “Lift up your shirt so I can see.” Fred complied, pulling up his shirt to reveal the same hard, flat abdomen that was in the photo he sent to George. The only difference Fred noticed was that his abdominal muscles looked thicker and more clearly defined. He chalked that up to different lighting. “Where did all that food go?” George asked, incredulous. “No one can eat that much and not have a rounded gut!” “I can,” said Fred. “That’s why I need your help. All the other guys at the gym can bulk up by eating more calories than they burn, but no matter how much I eat, I can’t get any fat to hang onto me. I think there might be something wrong with me. Or am I just doing this wrong?” “Are you saying you can’t gain weight?” “No, I’ve gained a lot of weight – about 50 lbs. in the last year, but it’s all muscle. Everything I eat turns into muscle. Can you help me? Have you helped other men gain weight?” “I certainly have. I’ve been very successful. If anyone can fatten you up, it’s me. How much fat do you want to add?” “I don’t know. What was your biggest success?” “Would you like to see a photograph?” “Yes, that would be helpful.” George retrieved his mobile phone and looked through his photographs. “Here… this is my most beautiful boy.” He turned his phone so Fred could see it.” Fred gasped and covered his mouth. “Oh, my goodness!” The photograph showed a young man with the largest stomach he had ever seen. It looked like he was cuddling a baby whale, but it was his own body. “Is he okay?” “Yes, he’s perfectly healthy. And look how jolly he is. I did that for him.” “Oh, gosh. Well… I don’t want that much. I would just like some soft padding over my muscles, and maybe a little spare tire around my waist. I won’t keep it for too long. It’s just temporary.” “Well, Fred, that’s different from what I had in mind when I placed the ad. I was looking for someone who wanted to grow very large, like my boy in the picture.” “Oh… I’m sorry. I should have known better. It sounded too good to be true…” “Hang on, now. I didn’t say I won’t help you. You’ve presented me with a unique challenge, and I’m curious to see how this plays out. We’ve already started, so…” “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Fred asked. “This was obviously a misunderstanding. I would completely understand if you wanted to call it off.” “I appreciate that, Fred. You’re a real sweetheart, do you know that?” “Oaf! Stop, George, you don’t have to say that. I know I’m nothing special.” “That’s not true! Someday you’ll find someone who helps you see how special you are.” “Well… I hope so. But I’m not ready yet. I need to make myself more attractive before I start looking for someone. That’s why I got interested in bodybuilding. A lot of guys seem to like a more athletic physique, so… I’m working on it.” “I think you’re already there, Fred. But if you want to put some pudge on top of all those muscles, you’re in the right place. Sit back down and get ready to be stuffed with more food than you’ve ever eaten in your life. I won’t let you leave here until you can’t eat another bite. You can stay overnight if you must.” Fred smiled. “Yes, sir. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” George put two stainless steel covered warming pans on the table. “Now… would you like pancakes or French toast?” “Why not both?” “That’s the spirit! You don’t mind eating right out of the pans, do you?” “I was just about to ask if I could.” “Here’s a bottle of warm maple syrup, and a pitcher of melted butter.” “Oooh, I haven’t had butter for a long time. I’ll probably need another bottle of syrup and some brown sugar for the French toast. I like it sweet. And a gallon of whole milk if you have some.” “Coming right up!” Fred started to eat… ***** 11:45 am… After Fred had consumed all the hot breakfast food, George brought out a dozen boxes of various breakfast cereals. While Fred ate those, George made a large pot of oatmeal porridge with 3 lbs. of rolled oats, a pound of raisins, walnuts, brown sugar, butter, and a pint of heavy cream. Fred was thrilled with that. While eating it from the pot, he heard the quiet popping of threads and recognized the sound of seams splitting. He paused to look down at himself and realized that his corduroy pants were stretched over his massive quads like sausage casings. His shirtsleeves were just as tight, and his bulging pecs had popped open the second button from the top and were threatening the third. “I was afraid this would happen,” he said under his breath. He finished the oatmeal and stood up to take the pot into the kitchen. He knew immediately that he was taller. “Oh, no… this is worse than it’s ever been.” He slipped his free hand under the front of his shirt and felt the same lean waistline he had when he arrived. Fred went to the kitchen and offered to help George wash all the dishes and pots and pans from breakfast. The dishwasher could only hold so much. George protested, but Fred insisted. They needed to talk. “George… I think we should stop this. It’s not going to work.” “What? You can’t give up after one meal! We’re just getting started. Trust me; I know what I’m doing.” “George, stop what you’re doing and look at me. I’m growing.” George turned and noticed how tight Fred’s clothes were. “Are you starting to get fat?” Fred shook his head. “It’s not fat.” He lifted his shirt to show his ripped abs. “Do you see any fat? It’s all muscle. I told you, everything I eat turns into muscle. There’s something wrong with me.” George could see Fred was upset, but his reason for being upset was so illogical that it was hard to believe he wasn’t kidding. “Let me ask you, Fred… what is the purpose of bulking? Why are you so determined to put fat on your body?” “Because that’s the phase when you gain more muscle. Then you cut to get rid of the fat and expose the larger muscles. That’s the way all the serious bodybuilders do it.” “So what if you skipped a step, but the results were the same? Would that be so bad?” “But nobody does it that way. I want to do it the right way, like everybody else. I want to be normal for a change.” George looked at him for a long minute and said, “Why? Normal is boring.” “No it’s not. Everybody wants to be normal.” “I don’t. Let me ask you this… what does it feel like to have bigger muscles now than you did a few hours ago?” “I feel… great… really strong, and… kind of… sexy.” “That’s right! You’re a bigger, sexier beast than you were when you walked through my front door. And you got that way by eating enough food for twenty people, and you didn’t even have to work out! But you’re so busy worrying about being normal that you don’t appreciate that.” Fred felt like he had been slapped in the face, but in a good way. “Huh… when you put it that way… it is kind of awesome.” No one had ever called him a sexy beast before. He liked the sound of that. And he was busting out of his clothes… kind of like the Hulk. He suddenly realized that the problem he had been complaining about would be a fantasy come true for many people. In fact, it was his fantasy come true. How could he have been so blind? George interrupted his thoughts. “Uhh, Fred… it looks like you’re growing everywhere. Can I help you with that?” “With what?” George gestured towards his crotch, and as soon as Fred saw it, he tried to cover it up. “Oh my gosh! How embarrassing…” “That is nothing to be embarrassed about, Fred; it may be your best feature. May I be of service in your hour of need?” “My hour of what now? What service?” George realized he would have to be crystal clear. “Fred, I would like to suck your dick and swallow the contents of your balls. I’m very good at it. May I get started now?” Fred was stunned. “But no one has ever… I’ve never had…” “Oh, my… you poor thing. That’s all the more reason for you to let me handle this. Sit down over there, try to relax, and let old George blow you and your mind. I’m going to enjoy this as much as you will.” ***** 12:15 pm… When he experienced his first orgasm, Fred had accidentally crushed the chair he was sitting on and was sprawled on his back on the kitchen floor. His eyes were as wide as saucers. His thick chest rose and fell with lungsful of hot breath. He had never appreciated his body more than he did at that moment. He kept thinking, “All these years I could have been doing that?!” George stood nearby, dabbing at the corners of his mouth with a paper napkin. “That was satisfying. I certainly won’t be needing any lunch, but I ordered two six-foot party subs for you, Fred. I hope that will put a dent in your appetite.” ***** 2:35 pm… The dining room table was littered with empty wrappers from the submarine sandwich shop. Fred was on the floor with his back against the wall, legs spread wide, clothing in tatters. His muscular abdomen looked like a perfectly vertical stone wall, with no trace of fat. His right hand was kneading his softening junk. “I didn’t think it would work twice in one day, but it was just as good as the first time! Is that normal?” George was slouched on a chair with one hand resting on his newly acquired round belly. “For a stud like you being serviced by a master practitioner, there might not be any limits within a given day. For a man my age, one orgasm a day is an accomplishment. But I will never be too old to enjoy a spectacular masculine body like yours. This is such a rare treat for me, Fred. I haven’t been near a hot hunk like you in twenty years or longer. Thank you for responding to my ad. It’s turning out rather well, don’t you think?” “Are you kidding? This is the best day of my life so far. I can’t thank you enough, George. Uh… do you have any snacks? Chips, maybe? That blow job cranked up my appetite.” George grinned. “That’s funny… it had the opposite effect on mine.” He stood up and headed for the kitchen. “Do you want anything to drink with those chips? 5:10 pm… Fred was sitting on the couch in the living room because it was the only piece of furniture large enough to hold him. He knew it wouldn’t withstand his weight much longer. Fortunately, George didn’t seem to care about the damage. It almost seemed like he was encouraging it. “George, are you sure you want to keep feeding me? You should know by now that my appetite will never be satisfied. And this isn’t anything like what you wanted when you placed that ad.” “I know it wasn’t, but I’m enjoying it a lot more than I expected. I was never into big muscle guys when I was younger, and I’m not sure that has changed… but there’s something about you, Fred… you’re different.” “Different? How?” “You’re just so fucking sexy! You were a hot guy when you showed up this morning, but now, after watching your beautiful muscles get bigger and bigger… you’re like deep fried sex on a stick! I can’t even explain it, but my cock has been hard for five hours straight.” “It has? You’ve been holding out on me. I want to see it. Can I see it? And why do you still have all your clothes on while I’m sitting here buck naked? It’s not fair.” “I don’t want to be naked around you, Fred. I would be too self-conscious.” Fred fixed him with a stern look. “You know I could just tear your clothes off, don’t you? It would take me about 30 seconds. But I don’t want to disrespect you like that, so drop your pants before this gets ugly.” George seemed to vibrate with excitement. “Holy fucking shit! That was the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me in my whole fucking life!” He quickly unfastened his pants and dropped them, then tore open his shirt, sending buttons flying, and tossed it aside. Finally, he dropped his boxers and stood before Fred in all his naked glory, with his rounded jizz-belly and his erection sticking out at a perfect 90-degrees. Fred tossed away his stern expression and leaned forward to look at George’s boner. “You’ve been that hard for five hours? For me?” “You bet your giant bubble butt I have! I may be a middle-aged man, but all of my parts work hard… so to speak.” “Let’s find out.” As quick as a flash, Fred put his hands around George’s waist, lifted him over the coffee table, and popped his entire boner into his spacious mouth. George let out a high-pitched squeak, then fell into stunned silence. Fred rolled his big tongue around the erection and pulled, very slowly, until it almost cleared the wet tongue-tube, then paused before pushing it back in. George was vibrating again. It pleased Fred tremendously. He only had to repeat this innovative slow stroke a few times before George delivered all the splooge he could spare. Leaving the dick in place, Fred swished his tongue around to get the full flavor of George’s offering, then extracted the ex-boner through his pursed lips. “Tasty!” was the summary of Fred’s evaluation. “Sweeter than I expected, but I would definitely order that again.” Still holding George by the waist, he asked, “How was it? I’ve never sucked anyone off before.” Recovering the power of speech, George croaked, “You’re a natural. Five stars.” “Thanks. I’m glad you liked it.” Fred gently pressed his thumb against George’s belly and heard a squishy noise. “Is that all my cum in there?” George nodded. “Awesome. Why is that so hot? Your belly is boning me up again.” “Could you set me down, please?” “Oh, yeah. Sorry. There you go.” George took a deep breath and blew it back out. “Fred…” “Yes?” “As soon as I catch my breath… and after I put the Lasagna in the oven… I’m going to suck your dick so hard that your eyeballs will fall into your skull.” A broad grin spread across Fred’s face. “You say the prettiest things.” ***** 7:34 pm… While anxiously waiting for the lasagna to come out of the oven, Fred took an interest in the gallon can of extra virgin olive oil George left out on the counter. It gave him ideas. “George, do you need the rest of this olive oil?” “Not really. I have another can.” “Good. I just thought of a fun activity we could do together.” Fred popped the nozzle open, tipped the can forward, and filled his cupped hand with oil. He splashed the oil over the front of his body and started to spread it all over his skin. “You can help with this part if you want to.” George was ready and willing to follow his lead. While Fred took care of his giant shoulders, George knelt to do the tops of his feet, his ankles, his calves… He hadn’t paid much attention to these parts of Fred and was surprised to discover a distribution of fine black hair, especially on his shins and calves. “Sexy,” he thought. As he moved above the knee to his massive, rippling quads, he found more to love. George was getting lost in his enjoyment of all that muscle, stroking and massaging it until he bumped his head on something hard. He looked up to find a giant erection looming over him. Fred said, “Now, look what you’ve done! You’ll have to get that out of the way before we can do our fun activity.” George smiled. “Not to worry, sir. I have experience with this kind of problem. I’ll get right on it.” True to his word, he opened his mouth as wide as possible and got right on it. Experience had taught him that he could resolve this specific issue slowly or quickly. This situation called for a rapid response, so he pulled out all the stops. The climax arrived so quickly that it caught Fred off guard. He roared with pleasure before one of his knees buckled. He tilted to one side and awkwardly fell to the floor with an explosive “Boom!” He wasn’t injured, but a section of flooring would need to be replaced. The most remarkable part of this little story is that when Fred came to rest and started laughing about his clumsiness, George was still locked onto his deflating cock, sucking, and swallowing the last drops of Fred’s cum! When he finally let it slide out of his mouth, his primary concern was that he might have ruined Fred’s fun activity. “No, of course not!” said Fred, “but it will certainly be less exciting than that blow job! You are truly gifted.” George wiped his mouth on his forearm and smiled. “I get as much out of it as you do.” Fred reached for the can of olive oil and poured some into his palm. “I need to oil you up now. C’mere.” Fred took his time going over George’s body, but he paid special attention to the broad, firm curve of his increasingly distended abdomen. “How many of my loads have you swallowed today? I lost count.” “Fred, the only answer I will ever give to that question is, “Not enough.” Maybe I deprived myself for too long, and now I’m making up for lost time, but I absolutely love sucking your dick. It’s gorgeous, it tastes great, and it always leaves me satisfied.” He rubbed his stomach as he spoke. “You know… I think I’m starting to understand the thing you do with those other guys. This belly of yours is so incredibly sexy, it’s driving me nuts. Knowing that you’re filled with something that came from me, and that you want to be filled with my cum… it makes me feel so powerful.” “Well… you are powerful, Fred. You just need to really see and recognize your power. I feel something like that when I’m feeding you… and the others… but especially you. Just… look at you... you’re awesome! And I played a part in making you awesome. “Yeah… you know, this is interesting to talk about, but it’s going to make my fun activity seem really lame, now.” “No! Tell me what it is. Let’s do it.” “Okay… I thought we could play slip-n-slide, except I want you to be slipping and sliding around on me. Like… on my body. I thought it would be a good way for you to feel my muscles… up close… and personal. What do you think?” George wondered if he had died and gone to heaven. “This giant young muscle god wants me to climb on top of him, naked and oily, and slide my body all over his huge, muscular naked body… like he’s an amusement park ride?” George said, “I fucking love it. Let’s go.” ***** 9:20 pm… Fred sat on the floor of George’s living room with one elbow resting on what was left of the sofa. He had just finished eating 30 lbs. of lasagna (yes, I said 30 lbs.) for dinner. That’s how much George made, and as a member of the ‘clean plate club’, Fred had no choice but to finish it. Not that he minded. He loved lasagna. Sitting next to him on the floor, with his back propped against Fred’s thick pectoral muscles, was George, the owner of the house, a middle-aged, moderately wealthy man who had placed an ad seeking a young man who was willing to eat enormous amounts of food with the intention of growing very fat. This would be done for the mutual sexual pleasure of George and the young man. That did not happen. Curiously, George had a grotesquely distended abdomen that one would assume would be uncomfortable, if not painful, if he weren’t gently caressing it with an expression of contented bliss. “You know,” said Fred, “none of this went the way I thought it would when I woke up this morning.” “Amen to that,” said George. “Never in a million years would I have pictured this. Are you sorry you answered my ad?” “Definitely not! Are you sorry I showed up instead of the type of guy you wanted?” “You know I’m not. I can’t remember if I was ever this happy.” “I know I was never this happy. But how could I end up feeling so good about not getting what I was hoping for?” “Well, you were hoping to get fed. I fed you.” “You certainly did! Except…” “Except what?” “I’m not complaining, but I thought there would be dessert after the lasagna.” “I was going to take you out for ice cream, but I’m not sure what people would think of us. They might point and stare.” “Who cares? Fuck ‘em.” “Wow! What happened to that timid, insecure guy who was so desperate to be normal?” Fred smiled. “I don’t know anyone like that.” “Do you think anyone will recognize you?” “I still have the same face, don’t I? I’m just a little bigger.” “A little?” “I’ll just pretend I was always this big. It’ll be fine. There are a few people, though… I would want to make sure they remember me.” “Who?” “Just some guys at the gym.” ***** The Gym, Monday, 4:15 pm… The muscle-bros were in their usual spot, the place where most people would see them so they could show off their biceps and butts, flirt with some hotties, and make fun of anyone they didn’t like, which was most people. They were shooting the shit, telling rude jokes, and sometimes picking up weights. Suddenly they noticed the usual background noise had faded into silence. Then a shadow fell over them. They all turned at the same time and saw the largest man they had ever seen or imagined. “Hey, dudes.” said Fred. “How ya doin’?” “Ho-lee ffffuuuck!” said one. “Who the… wait a minute…,” said another. And a third said under his breath, “Roid Boy?” Fred stepped closer to that one and leaned down. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” The guy knew better than to repeat that nickname. “D-duuude… heyyyy… ‘sssup?” One of the louder ones stepped up. “What the ffuuck happened? How did you get so… fffucking… HUGE?” Fred straightened up. “Is it noticeable? Does it show?” “B-bro! You’re like… twice as big as you…” “Ha! Cut it out! As if that could happen. What are you smokin’, dude? Can I get some?” “No, surriouslee! You are fukkin’… MASSIVE! And… TALLER!” Fred lowered his voice. “I’m concerned about you, man. You need to cut back on that shit. Just say no. You hear me?” He looked at each of the four faces. They were all afraid of him. Then he boomed, “ALRIGHT! IT’S TRUE!” They all jumped. “I’ve made some gains… HARD EARNED gains.” He lifted one arm and flexed a bicep that made all their eyes pop out. “I changed my diet. Y’all know how important that is. So now I eat whatever the fuck I want, as often as I want, except I’m eating enough for twenty men… okay, thirty men if I’m being honest. I guess it’s working for me. Whataya think?” He leaned into a most muscular pose that made them all take a step back. “I guess I need to work on that one.” “Anyway… the reason I wanted to talk to you guys is to find out… because I think you would know… who do I talk to about getting heavier weights in here? I mean… what is the point of coming to the gym if there’s nothing here to challenge me? You guys must be having the same problem, right? Big guys like you…” He started scanning their bodies with hungry eyes. “Did you hear me? I’m waiting…” They all looked at each other nervously until one spoke. “Uhh, the truth is… we haven’t had that problem.” “WHAT?!” They all jumped again. “GET THE FUCK OUTA HERE! There’s no WAY you big dawgs are making do with 200 lb. dumbbells.” He looked each of them in the eye. The biggest of the four shook his head. “Dude… there aren’t any 200 lb. dumbbells at this gym.” Fred looked each of them in the eye again. “Are you sure about that?” They all nodded. Fred snatched a handful of the biggest one’s shirt and hoisted him off the ground with one hand. Then he grabbed another with his opposite hand and lifted him as well. “How much do you guys weigh, then?” He curled them up and down to estimate their weight. “You’re so fucking light!” The bigger guy protested, “I weigh 210!” Fred curled him closer to his face and looked down at his own bulging bicep. “That’s not what this muscle says. Tell the truth.” The young man turned red and whispered, “203.” “Maybe after a big meal,” said Fred. He turned to the other one and before Fred could even ask the question, he blurted, “185!” “The truth. Good choice.” Fred nodded. “But dude… that’s so puny. Do you even work out?” “I do!” he wailed. “Alright, alright… don’t start crying. I was just being mean, like you guys are.” Fred looked at the two who were still on their feet. They were terrified. Fred was already tired of sinking to their level. “Let’s speed things up.” He shoved the first two towards the other two until he was able to grab two men in each fist, then he lifted. “There we go! That’s more like it. I can finally get a little bit of a workout.” Fred started doing biceps curls with the four men dangling from his fists. He used good form and took it seriously. At the same time, he spoke to them in a low voice. “This is so damned awesome. Being able to use meatheads like you as free weights has been a fantasy of mine for a long time. I can’t believe I’m doing it.” He continued, “When I first came to this gym as a beginner, you guys made me feel like shit. You could have offered advice or encouraged me, but you chose to make me feel small and weak compared to you. I worked my ass off, alone, without any help. And when I got bigger and stronger than you guys, I still felt small and weak. That’s the kind of damage you can do to someone. So today I’m making you feel small and weak. Compared to me… you are. Don’t ever do that to anyone again… do you hear me?” They all nodded. Fred paused to shake them all like ragdolls. “I said, DO YOU HEAR ME?” “YES! Yes, we do,” they all said. “That’s better. If you decide to make anyone feel small and weak, and I find out about it… you will disappear from this earth, and no one will ever find so much as a drop of blood or a bone fragment. Understood?” In unison they said, “YES, SIR!” “One last thing… Each of you is going to do 50 hours of volunteer work for the library. You’ll be reading stories to children. And when you’re reading… you’d better put some feeling into it. There’s nothing worse than a monotone delivery when someone is reading a children’s story. Kids deserve decent acting as much as adults. Understood?” “Yes. Sure. No problem,” they said. “I actually think I’ll like that,” one added. Fred stopped curling them, set them gently on the floor, then flexed his biceps as hard as he could. The bros commented, “Fuckin’ A, dude!” “Look at those beauties!” “You got a license for those guns?” Fred spread his arms wide. “Alright, let’s hug it out. All of you at once. C’mon.” They crowded in. Fred wrapped them up in his massive arms and squeezed them against his massive pecs, lifting them all off the floor. He squeezed a little too hard, until he heard sounds of distress, then quickly released them and watched them stagger backwards. “That was on purpose, in case you’re wondering. Now get the fuck out of here. Your workout is over.” ***** Fred continued to work out at the same gym, even though the weights weren’t heavy enough to challenge him. He did other things to compensate. But from that day forward, he was never alone. People greeted him and chatted about the weather. They sought him out at the library to ask questions about anything that might be contained in a book they were too lazy to read. And no one… not one single person… ever asked how he doubled in size overnight. “That’s his business,” they would say. He continued to live alone but ate dinner at George’s house at least twice a week. Big, big dinners. George bought new clothes to accommodate the strange, squishy belly that appeared one day and never left. No one ever asked about it. “That’s his business,” they said. Before or after their workouts, muscle-bros read stories to children at the library. No one asked why. The children loved their dramatic flair. Reading scores improved. So, in one small corner of the world, everything was alright because Fred, who had been very hungry, finally got fed. And he lived happily ever after. THE END ***** I hope you enjoyed that. Within the next ten days, I will post the other two stories that I completed. As I promised last year, I WILL complete the last two stories and post those later, but I won't make a promise about when that will happen. I hope it will be within the next two months.

Olakwood era un pueblo tranquilo, donde lo más emocionante eran las ferias Para los hermanos Miller, sin embargo, la tranquilidad estaba a punto de romperse. Miguel, el mayor con 18 años y 1,85 metros, era la estrella del equipo de fútbol; Javier, el mediano de 16 años y 1,75 metros, prefería los libros a los balones; y Lucas, el pequeño de 15 años y 1,70 metros, era un espíritu libre con una vena rebelde. Un sofocante martes de junio, tras sobrevivir a las clases, los tres buscaron alivio en las frescas aguas del río a las afueras del pueblo , un ñargo camino por el bosque llegaron al rio y Se zambulleron sin dudarlo, disfrutando del agua helada que les recorría el cuerpo. Lo que no sabían era que un vertido reciente de la fábrica abandonada local había alterado el río. Miguel y Javier solo se dieron una corta zambullida en el rio y lucas se quedo un largo momento y a pesar de que sus hermanos le decían que era hora de irse el se quedo en el agua Al salir del agua, la primera señal fue sutil: la ropa ajustada. Pero a medida que caminaban a casa, los cambios se volvieron evidentes. Miguel notaba sus músculos más tensos, Javier sentía una extraña energía, y Lucas… Lucas se sentía más alto. Mucho más alto. Al llegar a casa, la escena fue caótica. Lucas, en apenas unas horas, había sobrepasado a sus hermanos. Su madre, al verlo entrar por la puerta, casi deja caer la bandeja de galletas que llevaba. "¿¡Pero qué…!?", exclamó, con los ojos como platos. La cena fue un desastre cómico. Lucas, intentando alcanzar el salero, golpeó la lámpara del comedor, que cayó estrepitosamente al suelo. "¡Lucas, ten cuidado!", gritó su padre, mientras recogía los cristales. Más tarde, en su habitación compartida, las cosas empeoraron. Lucas, ahora con una estatura cercana a los dos metros, intentó saltar a su litera superior. En lugar de eso, golpeó el techo con la cabeza, provocando una nube de polvo y un fuerte estruendo. "¡Auch! ¡Mi cabeza!", se quejó Lucas, sobándose el chichón que le estaba saliendo. Javier, con una mezcla de asombro y preocupación, lo examinó. "Estás creciendo a un ritmo alarmante. Esto no es normal". A la mañana siguiente, la situación era aún más surrealista. Lucas se había levantado con dolor de cuello, resultado de la colisión con el techo. Intentó ponerse una camiseta que, literalmente, le llegaba al ombligo. "¡Necesito ropa nueva!", exclamó, frustrado. En el desayuno, intentando tomar un vaso de zumo, lo derribó sin querer con el codo, empapando el periódico de su padre. "¡Por el amor de Dios, Lucas! ¿Qué te pasa hoy?", exclamó su padre, con el periódico chorreando zumo. Lucas se sentía torpe y fuera de control. Su cuerpo estaba cambiando a un ritmo vertiginoso, y no entendía por qué. La escena final del capítulo los encuentra camino al colegio, con Lucas encorvado para no llamar demasiado la atención. Las miradas y los murmullos los acompañan. Lucas, sin querer, roza una farola con la cabeza, haciendo que se tambalee peligrosamente. “Creo que necesito un casco”, murmuró, con una mezcla de humor y resignación. La escuela fue una pesadilla para Lucas. Cada pasillo era un campo minado de techos bajos y pupitres diminutos. Sus hermanos, Miguel y Javier, se convirtieron en sus improvisados guardaespaldas, apartando obstáculos y disculpándose con quien tropezaba con el ahora gigantesco Lucas. En la clase de matemáticas, Lucas, intentando concentrarse en una ecuación, estornudó con tal fuerza que movió los libros de la mesa del profesor y casi tumba una estantería. La profesora, con los ojos muy abiertos, le ofreció un pañuelo con una sonrisa nerviosa. “¿Te… te encuentras bien, Lucas?”, preguntó con voz temblorosa mirando al adolescente gigante Miguel, siempre el diplomático, intervino: “Sí, señora Pérez, solo es… una alergia repentina.” Javier, por su parte, se dedicó a observar a Lucas, tomando notas mentales sobre su comportamiento y su crecimiento acelerado. Su mente científica trabajaba sin descanso, buscando una explicación lógica a lo que estaba sucediendo. Al llegar a casa, el caos continuó. Lucas, hambriento como nunca, vació la nevera en cuestión de minutos. “¡Chicos, necesito más comida!”, exclamó con el estómago rugiendo. Miguel, con una expresión de cansancio, respondió: “Lucas, acabas de comerte tres sándwiches de jamón, dos manzanas y un trozo de pastel. ¿A dónde va toda esa comida?” Javier, con su libreta en mano, añadió: “Su metabolismo debe estar funcionando a un ritmo extraordinario. Su cuerpo está usando una cantidad inmensa de energía para sostener este crecimiento repentino.” La cena fue otro festival de despropósitos. Lucas, sin querer, dobló un tenedor con la mano, rompió una silla al sentarse y casi incendia la mesa al intentar alcanzar una vela. “¡Esto es insostenible!”, exclamó su padre, con una mezcla de exasperación y preocupación. Por la noche, en su habitación, Javier decidió tomar medidas. Con una cinta métrica, empezó a medir a Lucas meticulosamente. “Has crecido otros cinco centímetros desde esta mañana”, anunció Javier con asombro. “A este ritmo, vas a llegar al techo en un par de días.” Lucas, con una expresión de resignación, respondió: “Ya lo he tocado antes. ¿Recuerdas?” De repente, se oyó un crujido. El suelo de la habitación comenzó a ceder bajo el peso de Lucas. “¡Chicos, creo que…!”, alcanzó a decir Lucas antes de que parte del suelo se hundiera, dejando al descubierto el piso de abajo. Por suerte, nadie resultó herido, pero el incidente dejó claro que necesitaban una solución urgente. Al día siguiente, Miguel y Javier convencieron a sus padres de que Lucas necesitaba una cama nueva, una extragrande y reforzada, además de ropa hecha a medida. La búsqueda de ropa adecuada fue una odisea. Ninguna tienda tenía tallas que le quedaran. Al final, tuvieron que encargar la ropa a un sastre especializado en personas con necesidades especiales. Mientras esperaban la nueva cama y la ropa, la vida en casa se convirtió en una serie de situaciones cómicas y desafiantes. Lucas aprendió a moverse con cuidado por la casa, agachándose constantemente para evitar golpear los techos y los marcos de las puertas. Miguel se encargó de la logística, comprando comida en grandes cantidades y protegiendo a Lucas de miradas indiscretas. Javier continuó sus investigaciones, buscando información sobre casos similares en libros y en internet, sin mucho éxito. Una tarde, mientras Lucas intentaba jugar baloncesto en el patio, rompió el tablero al encestar con demasiada fuerza. “Lo siento”, dijo con una expresión de culpabilidad. Miguel, con una sonrisa comprensiva, le puso una mano en el hombro, ahora a la altura de su propia frente. “No te preocupes, grandullón. Ya encontraremos una solución”, le dijo lucas se acerco a miguel lo giró fácilmente en sus manos para que quedaran uno frente al otro y lo abrazó con fuerza. Sus brazos expuestos rodearon fácilmente la delgada complexión de miguel Hacía calor afuera y el cuerpo de lucas estaba ligeramente húmedo, su camiseta de baloncesto demasiado pequeña se le pegaba al cuerpo. El sudor del cuello de lucas mojó la cara de miguel mientras su hermano menor, mucho más grande, lo abrazaba contra su sólido y gran cuerpo. lucas dejó a miguel en el suelo. —Hrrrgh —gruñó lucas—, ¿qué pasa? —dijo miguel. —Uf, es como si mi camiseta se estuviera apretando cada segundo —dijo lucas—. Deja de jugar —dijo miguel, aunque él mismo no estaba seguro—. No estoy bromeando, miguel —dijo lucas, agachado, con el rostro desencajado. Sin embargo, incluso mientras miguel miraba, pudo ver cómo la vieja camiseta se apretaba sobre la ancha espalda de lucas, subiendo lentamente por su torso. —Woah —dijo miguel en voz alta. El botón de los pantalones cortos de lucas se soltó, deslizándose por el suelo. —Arrrrgh, joder —dijo lucas. Se oyó un ruido de desgarro cuando la camiseta de baloncesto empezó a rasgarse. lucas se enderezó, echando los hombros hacia atrás, y la camiseta se rasgó por la mitad empezando desde arriba. La cabeza de lucas se levantaba visiblemente. miguel le dijo a lucas que entraran en lasa casa y con mucha dificultad lo logro y converso con Javier de que estos brotes están siendo mas fuertes y continuos dé repente escucharon ruidos en el segundo piso donde dormía lucas esto solo se podía significar una cosa corrieron arriba "¡Está creciendo demasiado rápido!", gritó Javier, con los ojos fijos en la musculatura de Lucas, que se definía a cada segundo. Sus bíceps se abultaban como melones, sus pectorales se expandían hasta el punto de rasgar su camiseta. "¡Tenemos que sacarlo de aquí!", gritó su padre, presa del pánico. Pero era demasiado tarde. Lucas, en medio de su sueño profundo, comenzó a agitarse. Sus brazos, ahora gigantescos, se movían espasmódicamente, golpeando las paredes con una fuerza descomunal. Las paredes comenzaron a agrietarse, y los muebles se hacían añicos bajo sus miembros en expansión. La escena se convirtió en un caos. La habitación se desintegraba a su alrededor. Miguel y Javier intentaban apartar a sus padres de la zona de peligro, mientras Lucas, inconsciente de la destrucción que causaba, seguía creciendo sin control. De repente, Lucas se incorporó en la cama, ahora completamente rota. Su cabeza rozaba el techo, y sus hombros eran tan anchos que apenas cabía entre las paredes. Su cuerpo se había convertido en una masa imponente de músculos y hueso, un gigante dormido en medio de una casa que se desmoronaba. Con un rugido sordo, Lucas se puso de pie. Sus pies atravesaron el suelo de la habitación, dejando un agujero enorme que daba al piso inferior. El resto de la casa tembló bajo su peso. "¡Corran!", gritó Miguel, empujando a sus padres y a Javier hacia la puerta principal. Salieron a la calle justo cuando la casa comenzaba a derrumbarse. Vieron con horror cómo las paredes se agrietaban y se desplomaban, mientras la figura gigantesca de Lucas se alzaba entre los escombros. Lucas, aún dormido, salió a la calle, ahora convertido en un gigante de más de veinte metros de altura. Su cuerpo imponente bloqueaba la luz de la luna. Sus ojos permanecían cerrados, ajenos al pánico que había a su alrededor. La familia Miller, de pie en la calle, observaba con incredulidad cómo su casa se convertía en ruinas, mientras su hijo menor, ahora un gigante dormido, se alzaba sobre ella. El silencio fue roto por un profundo gemido que provenía de Lucas, un sonido que resonó por todo el vecindario, anunciando el despertar de un gigante y el inicio de una nueva y peligrosa fase en sus vidas.

I wanna preface this by saying that I apologize for taking so long to wrap this story up. It has been months! But life happens and the groove of things gets lost. Hopefully, this is a satisfying ending. Brace yourselves because this is a very long final chapter. Enjoy! *** “Open.” My lips parted like the red sea. Eagerly vacant and ready to eat just like a baby bird with its mother. Everything was running in slow motion. My eyes darted toward master’s pouted lips gunning a wad of saliva. Drip by drip, his essence glazed down my tongue, through my hole, tickling my uvula softly. “Good bitch!” he growled. His beastly hand gripped my jaw tightly and then took off before smacking my cheek. Many would find discomfort in this, but being with him inverted my nerves, what would cause me pain, suddenly shot down my spine and straight to my cock. The rubbing of his leather suit as he walked me on all fours to his couch echoed, reminiscing about our first encounter in the echoey locker room. He plopped himself across the couch. Pulling at the belt, drawing my head near him. His hot breath steamed my face, smelling of fresh mint. “You’ve wanted this for a while huh?” he whispered. I nodded. I dreaded working the night shift ever since Kyle began scheduling me for it. Every second in what was supposed to be the place where your mind clears out all of the terrible things was a place where I desired to end it all. The night that master set foot on that gym floor, I knew I was supposed to work the night shift for a reason. Where I thought I was working in the bane of my existence delivered to me the sole reason I existed. To serve. To surrender. To become nothing. To become my master’s nothing. “Say it,” he gripped the belt tighter. “Yes.” I gulped. “Yes what?” he barked “Yes- master” I gasped. He forced my head in the direction of his boots. “The best worship starts at the base,” he released his grasp from the belt loosely giving me enough distance to crawl to the other end of his 6-foot frame. My paws were caressing the bulky boots’ laces. Inches away, the strong familiar odor marinated around them. A small part of my brain tickled me pink from the bliss. “Take that dirty boot off you cunt!” master ordered. I swiftly removed the boot and pressed the entry against my snout. A deep inhale permeated my lungs like that first sip of ice water you take after waking up. “Without me even having to tell you,” master snarked, “there’s a good girl.” His calling me “girl” made my hole pulsate. I fixed my eyes on his bare feet. “Just for you,” he wiggled his toes, “I wore no socks the entire day at work.” I moaned at the sight of his sweaty, linty, feet. “Dig in,” he growled. My mouth engulfed his big toe like it was the head of a cock in one slurp. My tongue was sandwiched by his other toes as I slobbered. “Fuuuuuuck yea babe,” he moaned, “just like that. Who’s my good girl?” “Me master,” I spoke. “That’s for fucking sure. How do you like that taste, live up to your expectations?” he asked knowingly. “Its taste is unlocking new tastebuds I never knew I had, I am in ecstasy master,” I moaned. “Of course you are, and what do we say to master?” he asked. “Thank you,” I whimpered. “That’s right,” he leaned back and cupped his bulge, “you keep sucking and I might let you suck something else.” My oral skills were tested, but despite how tiring it can be, my comfort was sacrificed at the expense of his relaxation. My tongue and saliva can even go hours on end until it turns into beef jerky just so he can be satisfied. His sweaty feet pressed against my cheek, draping me in master’s scent. Minutes flew by. “Stop,” he commanded as he stood up from the couch. My leash tightened as he walked us into his bedroom. The door croaked open to expose the golden dome of the master bedroom. The penthouse suite. Fit for a king. “I am impressed,” he glanced, “not a single speck of dust even in the remote to my television, all of my files stacked neatly, my bedsheets practically ironed against the mattress. Open up.” His spit fired inches above my mouth, but before I could swallow, his lips pressed against mine. Was this happening right now? Did Master reward me with a kiss? “Again.” Again. “Swallow.” Swallow. “You liked that?” He beamed. “Yes, master.” “No bitch,” he cackled, “remember the term.” “Yes Daddy,” I gooned. “Good bitch,” he grinned. “Get up here.” He yanked my leash with brute force and my face was met with the crevice of his pit in a split second. The bush tickled my face and slipped into my nostrils completely fumigating my cranium. The smell of new like the smell of brand-new shoes blended in with expensive cologne and musky sweat. Delirium. “Lick that shit bitch!” My tired tongue brushed its surface with Daddy’s armpit hairs. His damp surface hydrated my drying tongue oh so slightly, but just enough to drive me to keep going. Eventually, I trailed my lather towards his nipple. His pec shelf enveloped me with sweat on his chest. “Hell yeah,” Daddy moaned, “you ready?” Without a second thought, he held my skull like a bowl and squeezed me into himself. The tip of my nose touched the base of his skin and my breathing lacked. Both ends of my cheeks hid in the middle of his suffocating bosom. I tapped his shoulder three times for him to release his grasp on me. “You’re at my mercy,” he huffed, “but don’t worry babe I’ll take care of you. I know when to let you breathe. Appreciate the mere fact that you’re getting to do this. Imagine the long line of closeted subs who just gawk at me from afar at the gym. But not you huh bitch? You had the guts to own up to it. To own up to your place beneath me. That’s my good bitch. That’s the sub that deserves to be suffocated by my pecs. A sub that gets to worship me!” A loud growl erupted from his lips as he let go of me. I let out a deep heavy sigh of pleasure. The pain of the pressure is molding me into his jewel for him to flaunt. Just like the rest of his golden throne and life of luxury, another piece of property manifests itself into the sub that I am becoming. Something he owns that he prides himself in. “Fuck yeah boy c’mere,” he growled. Our lips interfaced, violent wrestling against each other, but he reigns first. His tongue pierced inside my mouth filling the cavity and swirling inside. The sensation was so surreal my cock immediately ruptured with cum. My entire body twitched as he kept kissing me. Large strips of cum shot against Daddy’s hairy torso. His hand caressed my nipple triggering an even more euphoric sensation that made me ejaculate more. “You were supposed to wait for my command,” he chuckled, “but knowing THAT’S the power I hold over you is getting me bricked.” He undid his pants to reveal the gargantuan cock underneath. The massive Pringles can likeness of cock swung between us, dwarfing my leaking clit. “My turn,” he raised his eyebrows, “I’ll work you through it, but you WILL reach the base of my cock.” I assumed the position on all fours meeting at eye level with his cock. Already leaking precum, like a lollipop I engulfed the head. The back of my mouth bobbs up and down as he thrusts his hips in unison. “Fuck yeah baby,” he moaned, “suck it like it’s the air you breathe.” His comments inspired me to throat him more. My gag reflex was fighting demons as I furthered his shaft down my throat. The reflex won over as his tip scratched the top of my throat. “Fuck you suck it so good,” Daddy panted, “you suck better than any bitch I’ve had before. DAMN! Look at you, a cock starved whore! That’s a good girl!” With his member still in me I moaned as if my G-spot was in my throat. In and out he slid, a rhythm not even the world’s most renowned musicians could replicate. The gagging mixed with the slobbering all to the beat of my master’s panting. The face fuck of a lifetime. “Oh keep sucking it just like that,” he stroked his hips back and forth faster. My airways sealed but I couldn't care less. A hardwired lust grew tender within me. My gag reflex began to dissipate as every inch penetrated my hole. The edges of my lips lubricated in saliva and snot. The musky ball sweat imprinted across my skin. “You ready boy?” He shouted. “Open that fucking throat. ARGHHHHHHHHHHH FUUUUUUUUUUUCK.” His eyes rolled to the back of his head as each shot pulsated and traversed down my throat. And the base of his cock kissed my lips. “Swallow it all!” He barked. “Don’t you dare waste a drop!” And swallow it I did. The sea salt kettle corn flavor of his buttery cum immersed the pores of my tongue. The most addicting substance of all. “Finally,” I sighed. “Haha!” Daddy cackled. “How was it, boy?” “Purposeful,” I began, “like a piece of me was missing.” “I am that missing piece,” he huffed, “nothing will ever feel as good as serving your master, will it boy?” “No Daddy,” I bit my lip. “Your mind is mine,” he growled, “your clit is mine, your holes are mine, but above it all…” He leans forward and kisses me. “You are mine.” He smirked. “Understood?” “Yes sir!” I said. “You only respond to me from now on,” he said sternly, “quit your job. Fuck Kyle. His piece of shit gym does not deserve someone as attentive as you. I’ll take care of you from this moment forward.” His beastly hand caressed my cheek ever so softly. My eyes watered with joy as I realized how blissful it is to serve. To devote every fiber of my being to him. To abide by what he says cause in the end, I gain a lifetime of exploring his psyche, his desires, and his strength. “Or does that not sound promising enough?” he asked knowingly. “Yes,” I chuckled, “I am yours. I answer to you alone master. No matter the odds. I'm just taken aback by how I kept sniffing your sweaty rag a few days ago, to getting the privilege of you cumming in me all within a week!” “That’s a good boy,” he winked, “it is a privilege, but this is just the beginning.” He smacked my ass and nudged me towards the restroom. “Let’s get ya’ cleaned up.” The End

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

Erik loses a bet with his friends and has to spend the night in the old haunted house on the outskirts of town. However, he's in for a big surprise when he finds he's not the only inhabitant of this massive mansion. (Warning: Contains Muscle Growth, Hyper Muscle, Cock Growth, Hyper Cock, Macro Growth, Lactation, Giant) Erik walked up to the abandoned mansion that sat at the edge of town as the sun began to set. He’d lost a bet with his friends over fantasy football and now he had to sleep in the supposed haunted house. Rumor has it, this house had many owners dating back to the colonial era of North America, but all of them died under mysterious circumstances. Even those who dared to sleep in the house like Erik was about to would go missing, their bodies never found. Erik reached for the ornate handle of the tall double wooden doors and it felt cool to the touch. He pushed open the door and the sun shone through the elaborate stained glass portrait on the other side of the room. Erik took in the sight of the massive staircase leading to the upper floors and so many doors and hallways that led to various other rooms in the house. “Okay Erik, this is fine. It’s just a house. It’s not scary. You’ve seen a lot of movies. If anything feels off, you’ll know what to do. Most of the time just have common sense and try to get out” Erik walked through the house and the old wood creaked with every step the big man took. Erik himself was a rather large man. Standing at 6’4, he weighed about 180 pounds of lean muscle on his tall frame. He had always wanted to have bigger muscles to match his height, but he could never manage to pack any real size onto his frame. He wore an extra large t-shirt that hung off his body and a baggy pair of jeans as he walked around the entryway. Finding a light switch, Erik flicked it, but no lights came on. “Guess I’m spending tonight in the dark.” Erik grabbed his phone out of his pocket and turned the flashlight on as he explored the bottom floor of the house. Grabbing at some of the doors, all of the ones that were closed were locked. Luckily, there were plenty of open corridors for him to walk through. He hadn't realized just how big the inside of the house was as he walked through many rooms. There was a large kitchen connected to a lavish dining room and ballroom, multiple living rooms on the ground floor, and even a servants quarters. “This place isn’t that bad. Maybe if someone hired a cleaning crew, a team of handymen, an electrician, and probably a plumber too, it could be a great house.” “It already is a great house…” came a voice. Erik nearly jumped out of his skin as he spun around to look for the source of the voice to only see nothing. “Jake! If that’s you man, you’re gonna have to do a lot better than that if you’re gonna scare me!” Erik shouted down the hallway as his light panned across the closed doors. Erik hesitantly started exploring again as he returned to the entrance foyer. Climbing the stairs to the upper floors, Erik saw the last bits of the sun going down over the horizon as nightfall came. At the top of the stairs, there was a small living nook with a couch and a chair as well as a large window that overlooked the front yard and the entire town below. The upstairs was comprised primarily of bedrooms as Erik searched room after room. But like downstairs, many of the rooms were locked aside from the occasional ajar door. “I guess I have some options of where I can sleep tonight.” However, unlucky for Erik, the beds that he was finding were all full sized or twins. “I forget everyone was shorter back in the day. I doubt there’s a bed big enough for me here.” “Find the master…” Erik spun around again as he heard the same eerie voice behind him. “Jake, seriously dude! Enough with these games!” Erik’s breath started to quicken as he looked around for any sign of his friend. In the corner of his eye, he saw a green flashing coming from the balcony on the floor above. But as soon as he shined his flashlight in that direction, it disappeared. Walking towards the spiral staircase that led up to the balcony, Erik brought his light down, and as he did, he saw the green light flickering again atop the balcony. Erik turned off his flashlight and put his phone away as he climbed the stairs. At the top, he could clearly see a green hew wafting towards him from down a long hallway. Pulling his phone back out, he turned his flashlight back on and the green light vanished. Looking down the hallway puzzled, Erik slowly walked down it. On the walls were large portraits hung of men, presumably old owners of the house. Looking at them, they seemed to get bigger as he got closer and closer to the end of the hall. The first few looked no bigger than children while the last ones looked like bodybuilders. “I didn’t think men could get big like that in the 1700’s.” “I loved getting those done…” came the voice directly into Erik’s ear. He immediately flailed his arms in every direction in an effort to get whatever was touching him off him. “Fuck you Jake! This isn’t funny!” Erik looked around and still didn’t see anyone next to him. “I don’t know how you’re doing this, but you’re dead when I see you!” “I already am…” The voice came from behind the large doors at the end of the hallway. Erik slowly approached the doors and reached to turn the handle. Unlike the rest of the doors in the house, the door was unlocked. It creaked open and Erik slowly shined the light around the room. Inside was one of the largest beds Erik had ever seen. Spanning over 12 feet across and 15 feet long, Erik put his hand down onto the bed. Erik walked over to the bed and examined it. “Clear of dust, unlike everything else in this place.” Erik sat down on the bed and it didn’t creak under his weight like everything else. Bouncing up and down, the bed felt sturdy and very comfortable. Setting his phone down on the bed, he laid his head down on the pillow and let out a sigh. “At least not everything in this house is old and decrypted.” “Rude, I built this place myself, including this bed.” Erik screamed when he turned to look at the source of the voice and saw a man lying next to him in the bed dressed in an old time-y puffy vest and suit. Erik sprang out of the bed and put his back against the wall. “Who the hell are you?!?” screamed Erik as he panted heavily and stared at the man in the bed. He had the same green hew around him as Erik had seen before when he was walking towards the room. “I’m the owner of this house.” The man’s body floated up from his lying position and hovered closer to Erik. Erik made a break for the door as the specter got closer, but the doors quickly slammed shut, unable to be reopened despite Erik’s best efforts. “Please, don’t hurt me. I- I didn’t mean to disturb you, or whatever. I’m just here because of a bet.” Erik’s voice was high pitched and shaky as the ghost landed in front of him. Being as tall as Erik was, he hardly was intimidated by people’s height, but this spirit stood at least a head taller than him and despite being translucent, his frame encompassed Erik’s entire view. “Sweet boy, I’m not going to hurt you,” said the ghost with a smile. “My name is Jonathan and I actually might have a gift for you, if you’re willing to accept.” Erik looked up at the ghost and saw he was actually fairly handsome. He had bright green eyes, long white hair, and a kind smile to him as he loomed over Erik. “A gift? Wha- what kind of gift?” Erik swallowed hard as he straightened himself back up and looked the ghost in the eye. “Something that every man on the planet desires…to be bigger.” The ghost put his finger under Erik’s chin and showed his teeth to the young man as he flew up into the air. A chill ran up Erik’s spine when the ghost’s fingers made contact with him. “Bigger? Bigger how?” “Bigger everywhere. I’ll make you taller, more muscular, and more…endowed than what you’re currently packing down there.” The ghost floated behind Erik and pushed him towards a towering mirror on the other side of the room where Erik could only see himself in and not the ghost. “You already seem to be much bigger than most of the people I’ve seen coming through my doors, but what’s a little bit more size, huh? Everybody wants more right? Every man can always use a little…boost in some areas.” The ghost reached down and patted the front of Erik’s jeans and felt almost nothing beneath its hands. “Well…I have been wanting to get a little bigger.” Erik looked at himself in the mirror. He had been working in the gym for years to build muscle, but had very little results to show for it. He had a lanky body for being as tall as he was. He had a little definition in his pecs and arms, but he got mocked for his chicken legs constantly and wanted to be wider. And men and women alike had judged him for his less than substantial package he had in his pants; thinking that a guy so tall would be packing a lot more than a meager 5 inches. “Yes! Yes, good. I can help you then. I just need you to agree to let me into your body and I’ll grow you into the man of your dreams,” said the ghost with excitement as his icy fingers ran across Erik’s chest. “That’s all I have to do? Allow you to ‘enter my body’ and you’ll make me bigger?” Erik hesitated and looked back at the ghost pawing at him. “What’s the catch?” “Catch? There’s no catch my boy. You’ll get to be a huge walking wall of muscle, bigger than any man on the planet, and I’ll get to watch you be it,” said the ghost a matter of factly. Erik paused and thought about it for a moment while the ghost was getting impatient. “In fact, I’ll even let you have more if you aren’t satisfied by the initial…eh deal.” Erik looked at his body and attempted to flex, but with his lack of muscles, he could barely make his baggy shirt move with his pecs or biceps. “Fine, we have a deal.” “Splendid! Excellent my dear boy!” The ghost spun around in the air out of excitement as he landed on the ground facing Erik. “Now, just say the words “We are one within the eyes of the gods” and enjoy the ride.” The ghost was positively giddy waiting for Erik. “We are one within the eyes of the gods,” repeated Erik. As the words left his mouth, a green circle lit up on the floor around him as the ghost began to laugh maniacally. “Wonderful! Just wonderful young man.” The ghost floated closer to Erik and began sinking into his body. “By the way, this ritual might kill you if your body can’t handle all the size, but no takesies backsies HAHAHA!” “What!?!” yelped Erik as the ghost disappeared inside of him. Erik keeled over in pain as a cold spike ran through his entire body like he’d been dunked into an ice bath. His veins came to the surface of his skin, glowing a dark green color as his heart pumped blood all over his body. His eyes shot open and his brown eyes glowed green as his dirty blonde hair became white as snow. The sound of Erik’s bones cracking filled the entire house as he began to grow. Groaning loudly, Erik’s frame widened and his spine lengthened taller. Erik’s neck was the first to thicken with muscles. His traps swelled up to his head and the head hole on his shirt stretched out wider. His deltoids rounded out into boulders and tears in his shirt formed. The growth ran down his arms as his biceps and triceps exposed themselves from their cotton prison, bulging larger than softballs as Erik grunted in pain. He made a fist and veins ran up the length of his forearm as Erik felt more of his body growing. Looking down, Erik saw his shirt stretch out as his pecs bulged out, obscuring the view of the rest of his body below him. Erik breathed heavily and brought his hands up to feel his newly grown massive pecs. His shirt began to ride up as every inch of his growing body was on display, including his large, erect nipples. Erik had had a faint set of abs, but they disappeared as a roid gut began to swell forward. “Ooooo what the fuck is happening to me-” Erik moaned as his hands ran down his pecs and stomach. Erik tried to stand up, but his knees went weak when his cock throbbed in his jeans. Erik fell to his knees and reeled backwards as his bulge swelled forward. A snap rang out in the room as the button of his jeans snapped off and broke the mirror as his hips widened. Like a balloon inflating, Erik’s bulge forced his jean’s zipper to unzip itself as it grew, his white underwear stretching out as his cock bounced forward with every breath he took. His bulge wasn’t the only thing that was growing in his pants. Erik’s thin legs began to thicken and lengthen. His once baggy jeans filled up like sausages in a tight sleeve as they rubbed against one another. His flat ass behind him grew bigger like two cantaloupes, then even watermelons. Part of his cheeks got so fat that they spilled out of the back. His jeans ripping as his calves hardened and bulged out. His ankles became exposed as Erik’s body extended higher and higher, closer to the ceiling. Erik’s body broke out into a cold sweat and his transformation came to a close. Erik’s eyes glowed as he stood back up to his full height. Looking forward into the mirror in front of him, he couldn’t even see his head from how tall he was now. He had to be at least 8 feet tall as he looked down at the rest of the room. Everything looked miniature to him. Picking up his phone, it was fully engulfed in his palm when he closed his hand. Balling up his hand into a fist, he saw his veins run up his arms as his biceps tore through the remainder of his sleeves and swelled out bigger than a man’s head. Looking back at himself, his clothes were torn apart by his body, barely hanging onto him. His shirt had a large rip down his pec valley due his pecs growing to the size of pillows sticking out well over a foot in front of him. His midsection had rounded out and his bloated abs were exposed while his once baggy shirt had practically been turned into a tank top showing off his gut. His jeans were almost shorts as the bottom hems were up to his knees and ripped up by his thunder thighs and dump truck ass. His waistband stretched across his tight pelvic bone as his underwear hung out of his zipper. His was dick well over a foot long, maybe even 2, and as thick as a 2 liter soda bottle with volley ball sized balls stretching his tighty whities to their limit. “Fuck yeah! I’m huge!” Erik was taken aback by the low voice that bellowed out of his mouth. He flexed for himself as he admired his newly grown body. “You are!” said Erik, but it wasn’t him speaking. “What?! Who’s that?!” Erik became off balance as he held his head in his hands. “It’s me, big guy. The new owner of this body,” said Erik to himself. “Did you really believe me when I said that there’d be no catch to growing into a giant muscular hulk? No no you fool, I’ve finally found a specimen that can survive the growth process, and I’m never letting you go! HAHAHAHA!” The ghost’s laughter echoed throughout the halls of the house as Erik’s mind was pushed down. Now no longer in control of his own body. The muscle man lifted his head up with a devilish grin painted across his face. “It worked. After numerous failed vessels, I’ve finally found one who can grow as big as I desire.” Jonathan looked himself over in the mirror and flexed his new body. “I was lucky to stumble upon such an attractive specimen too. I’ll be unstoppable once I get out.” Jonathan walked through the bedroom and looked through living eyes for the first time in centuries. He ran his giant mitts up his body and groped himself. “I missed feeling so big!” Jonathan punched the door and it crumpled under his overwhelming strength. Despite how big he had become, he could still fit through the door frame. His newly spiked hair grazing the top and his shoulders almost taking off a chunk of the hinges. “Ah, I see in your memory that you thought these were different men,” said Jonathan looking at the portraits that lined the hallway. “They are all me. When I was born, I was the “runt of the litter” according to my father. Destined to never amount to anything because of how small I was.” His heavy footfalls rattled the frames as he walked down to the balcony. “It was only until I found magic did I see my true potential. And the potential that was wasted by people who were “gifted” with size.” He looked at the first portrait of him when he had dark brown hair and was practically skin and bones. “My poor twin brother, he never saw it coming. The big lug just thought we were playing.” Jonathan looked down over the balcony and kicked out the railing separating him from the floor. With a massive leap, he jumped off the balcony and landed with a loud slam on the second floor. His heavy body bouncing up and down as he steadied his weight on the ground. “You are perfect, boy. Just perfect. With this body, I’ll be able to leave this house and be the biggest and strongest man on Earth. Every woman will want me. Every man will want to be me. I’ll be irresistible. No longer bound to this rotting estate.” Jonathan flexed his bicep and smiled as the peak rose higher and higher as he continued to flex. “No, this is my body!” Erik managed to get out of his mouth. The big hunk broke down onto his knees as the giant slammed his fist on the ground. “You mortal scum, what do you think you are doing?” In Erik’s head, the two were having a battle of willpower for control over the hunks body. “I’ve been around for over 400 years and you think you can simply kick me out? I am out of your league, boy.” On the mental plane, Jonathan grew to tower over Erik and crush him under his foot. “You are merely another bug for me to squash.” “You might be old, but that doesn’t mean you are inherently better.” Erik lifted the ghost’s boot up off of him and threw it to the side. “I grew up in a modern era when education programs existed, the internet had been invented, and I’ve seen a lot of movies about mental battles.” Erik sunk his fingers into Jonathan’s boot and stole size from the giant mental figure. “No…NO! That’s impossible!” The ghost screamed as he fizzled away and Erik ballooned bigger and bigger. Going from towering over him, then looking him in the eye, then being dwarfed by him so much that he could be held in his hand. “Famous last words from cheesy movie villains.” Erik smiled as he sucked more of the size away from his tiny captor. “Now get out of my head!” He closed his fist around the ghost and absorbed the last bit of Jonathan’s power. Leaving Erik the sole owner of his mind. Opening his eyes, Erik stood back up. His senses returned to his body as he stretched out his limbs and took stock of himself. “Good to be back. And I still have my prize,” said Erik as he flexed his arms and popped his pecs. “And given the circumstances, I don’t think the guys will be pissed if I take off from this place early. After all, I defeated an evil size queen ghost.” Erik started to walk towards the stairs, but stopped in his tracks suddenly. “Defeated yes, but not destroyed you simpleton!” echoed Jonathan’s voice throughout the house. “You kicked me out of your body, but I have another part of our deal to fulfill.” Erik’s head turned to the hallways beside the upper staircase landing as he could hear multiple doors open. “Hear me, my loyal servants! I am no longer your keeper! I have been defeated and your ownership has been placed into a new man’s hands. The one you see before you is your new master!” Erik swiveled his neck as he saw more ghosts flying overhead. “Master!” they called out in a ghostly wail. “I am not your master! You are free to- UGH!” Erik grunted loudly as a ghost flew down and entered his body just as Jonathan had. But this time, it felt concentrated in his crotch. “What the fuck? What are you doing to me?” Erik fell back onto a couch as his bulge throbbed intensely. “I promised you that I’d give you more size if your initial growth spurt wasn’t enough.” The sides of Erik’s underwear began to bow forward, exposing his pale skin. “And I intend to keep this end of our bargain.” Erik threw his head back as his cock sprang free from its cotton prison. Swelling bigger and bigger with each beat of his heart. Erik looked down and could even see it coming into view over his pec shelf. Erik was baffled as his cock grew more and more with no end in sight. In quick bursts of growth, it passed the 3 foot mark, 4 foot mark, and 5 foot mark as it surged up and out. Erik attempted to stand up amidst his intense growth spurt, but he was thrown off balance as his balls rolled forward onto the ground, now the size of yoga balls sloshing with gallons of cum. “I-I have to get up!” Erik reached his arms forward in an attempt to move the towering cock, but as his hands made contact with it, he shot a string of pre into the air; glowing bright green like ectoplasm. Erik's low guttural moan bellowed through the halls as the sudden rush of pleasure only egged his cock on to grow more. It grew longer and thicker to the 6 foot tall mark, quickly closing in on being bigger than Erik’s previous height and definitely looking thicker than his old body. “Stop. Your master commands you to stop.” Erik tried to command the ghost to get out of his body, but his efforts were futile. His cock only kept inflating with size. Now outgrowing his freshly grown body and passing the 9 foot longer mark and not stopping. “Oh they won’t stop. In their lives, they were dedicated to making their old master the biggest he could possibly be,” came Jonathan's voice. “They only exist to grow their master bigger.” “Must serve master.” said two ghosts as they flew into Erik’s field of vision, only to then fly directly into him. The pair disappeared into his torso and another cold spike ran its way through Erik’s body. More tearing of fabric could be heard as Erik looked in front of his giant cock and saw his pecs now growing. The tear that had already formed during his first growth spurt deepened further and further as he grew. “I’ve gotta get out of here!” said Erik as he tried to stand up again. However, with the immense weight of his giant cock that was close to touching the elaborate chandelier above him and his now expanding chest, he was very front heavy. It didn’t help that his balls had grown so large that they were the size of bean bag chairs resting on the ground and as he stood up, they gurgled loudly and toppled over the coffee table that sat in front of the couch. Even with Erik’s enhanced legs, he couldn’t even his foot to move their massive weight as gallons of cum sloshed around inside his sack. Erik tried to take a step forward, but like a falling tree, he came crashing down onto the floor. His massive cock laying out in front of him with Erik on top of it. His massive pecs acting as airbags as they landed atop his cock and he moaned loudly as he chest had become just as sensitive as his cock. His balls now free to grow behind him against the couch he had nearly crushed. “Come on Erik, put these muscles to use.” Erik put his arms on his cock and tried to lift himself up off of his cock, but his chest had grown so massive, it weighed him down. His pecs were so large that they each looked like king sized pillows strapped to his chest. Growing wider and thicker by the minute. Even his nipples had grown larger and extended outward looking extremely erect. Erik kept trying to push himself into an upright position, but every slight movement of his hands sent waves of pleasure up his cock and down to his balls making them grow bigger even faster. As Erik pushed himself up, he couldn’t keep up his pace with his growing chest. For every inch Erik got himself up, his chest would grow an inch back down towards his cock, raising his torso up on his cock like a car jack. “Getting…too…heavy-” panted Erik. With one last growth spurt, Erik’s pecs grew down and pressed against his cock. The pleasure of his hands pressing against his cock and now his pec valley massaging it, Erik’s arms gave out and his pecs came slamming down onto his dick. Erik let out a roar and gallons of pre from his cock as it was squeezed between his deep pec valley. His balls swelling bigger and crushing the couch like a piece of tin foil. Erik’s pecs had grown so big, as they straddled his cock, they hit the floor below him on either side. His pecs were now the size of the couch behind him and his nipples were comparable to dinner plates. “Woah, what’re you guys doing in there?” Erik reached out and rubbed his swollen tits. Unlike before, when his pecs felt firm and hard like muscle, now when he touched them, they resembled giant water balloons filled with liquid as he poked and prodded them. Pushing down on them, he moaned and groaned with pleasure again. His pleasure was met with a new sensation as ectoplasm started shooting out his nipples. Erik’s eyes rolled back into his head as he had never felt a sensation this euphoric in his lifetime. “Fuck, this feels so weird,” said Erik as he pushed his pecs down against his dick as they both grew bigger. “But so…GOOOOOOD!” The giant man started gyrating his hips forward, rocking his big body on his cock that now dwarfed him. His cock was now at least twice as tall as the rest of his body and his long legs were barely touching the ground from how girthy it had become. Erik hugged his pecs and lifted them up only to push them together against his cock. Both his pecs and cock leaking ectoplasm out onto the floor like three fountains making giant puddles around him. “Master desires more!” moaned more ghosts that appeared above Erik’s head. “Yes! Your master wants more!” A few ghosts flew down and were absorbed by Erik in an instant. Erik smiled as he felt more parts of his body start to grow. He reached his arms down and hugged his pecs and cock as they thickened. His biceps pressed against his cock as they inflated like balloons growing bigger than tires in no time. They were also lengthening downwards towards the ground so Erik could actually get a grip around his girthy manhood. Joining in on the growth were Erik’s legs. Destroying whatever remained of his jeans, Eriks quads swelled out to the size of tree trunks and crushed his giant cock between them. Erik would never have a thigh gap again with how fat his legs were becoming and would walk in a permanent waddle. As his legs lengthened down to be firmly planted on the ground, Erik could get a better footing for bucking his hips forward to stimulate his cock further; his muscular legs now being able to move all the tons of pounds he was packing onto his frame. Along with his legs, Erik’s ass received a substantial boost in size as it bubbled out behind him. Rising higher in the air like bread baking in an oven. His hips widened to accommodate his massive legs and inflating backside. His cheeks became so wide that he could fill an entire couch with just his ass alone as it rose closer to the ceiling. Erik’s back was next to transform and swell out. With every passing second, Erik’s back became wider than the double doors he was able to walk through earlier. His boulder shoulders, now the size of actual boulders, extended further to his sides closer to the opposing walls. His lats pushing his arms out to the sides more than his biceps already were. Deep ridges formed across Erik’s expansive back as his back muscles strengthened into a massive display of size. While Erik’s muscles had been growing, all along he had been gaining height as well. His legs had lengthened longer, his back had extended upwards, and even his neck grew higher as his head threatened to be swallowed up by his traps. Even with Erik kneeling on his cock, his head was close to touching the ceiling with each vigorous thrust. “So…much…POWER! MUST HAVE MOOOOOOOORE!” roared Erik. He had become a giant man of size and strength. His entire body was beginning to take up the entirety of the upper landing. All of the furniture had been crushed by him and his body was nearing the walls on all sides of him. The head of his cock pressed up against the window on the other side of the room, taking up the entire view from it. “This is better than I ever could’ve imagined!” “No! You weren’t supposed to keep growing. You were supposed to die!” came Jonathan’s voice. Abruptly, Erik’s transformation halted and he stopped growing. “No. NO! I WANT MORE!” screamed the giant. Erik sat up on his cock to his full height and his head punctured a hole in the ceiling without breaking a sweat. “You’ve gotten enough size. My minions won’t be making you any bigger.” Erik looked up and around trying to find anymore ghosts, but they had all disappeared. “NO! THEY WERE MINE TO CONTROL! I AM THEIR MASTER!” Erik roared and slammed his fists into the ground, but he hadn’t realized his own strength when he did. The wood below him splintered and cracked as he felt his body become off balance. The floor was giving out below him and Erik’s body came crashing down to the bottom floor with a loud slam. Debris littered the floor as the dust cloud started to clear to reveal Erik’s giant form. Erik coughed as he got his bearings back after the destruction of the top floor. He hadn’t realized how much he had really grown until that moment. Standing atop his cock with his tanker balls behind him, he looked around and the massive door he had come through could maybe fit one of his massive arms through. Behind him, the stained glass portrait shone moonlight through it that lit up Erik’s wide back, balls, and ass and the shadow he casted eclipsed the entire down stairs entryway. “WHERE ARE MY SERVANTS! YOUR MASTER WANTS TO GROW MORE!” shouted Erik. “They aren’t going to listen to you. I’m their true master,” said Jonathan. Erik looked around at the halls and doors around him to see they had closed. “YOU? YOU ARE MASTER OF NONE! I AM THE TRUE MASTER! YOU TRIED TO TAKE CONTROL OF MY BODY FOR YOUR OWN SELFISH INTENTIONS, BUT FAILED MISERABLY! I AM THE MOST POWERFUL MAN ON THE PLANET AND I WON’T LET SOME WEAKLING LIKE YOU STOP MY ASCENSION INTO GODHOOD!” Erik closed his eyes and flexed every muscle in his body. He felt the ghosts’ energy coursing through his veins and felt the power he held. “COME TO ME MY SERVANTS! GROW YOUR MASTER AND I WILL OFFER YOU RELEASE FROM THE HOLD YOUR OLD MASTER HAS HAD ON YOU!” Erik looked up and a single ghost appeared from invisibility floating above his head. This one looked familiar, like Jonathan almost, except smaller. “Do you really mean to let us escape from our exile in this realm? My brother has kept many of us here for centuries.” Erik straightened his back and looked the ghost dead in his eyes. “I promise to let you pass on to wherever you go at the end. I’ve searched my mind and body and the ghosts that have already been absorbed are no longer a part of me. Only their energy remains. Their spirits have been set free,” said the giant. The spirit smiled lightly and then opened his arms. As he did, all of the doors opened and he flew into Erik’s body. Erik smiled as a familiar energy flooded his system. His entire body began to surge with size as all of the ghosts in the house flew into him and fueled his growth spurt. One by one, ghosts hit him from every angle, making him swell immensely bigger. Every part of his body doubled its size as he pulsed larger. His muscles grew larger and denser as his body pressed against the walls. His dick sprung forward towards the front door and banged directly into them like a train. His ass and balls inflated behind him like giant balloons crushing the stairs with ease. “HAHAHA YES! MORE! MORE!” Erik laughed maniacally as the entire room became full of him. He bent his arms in an effort to keep his body contained within the room, but he was fighting a losing battle. His head grew upwards through the hole he had made and his view of the second floor returned. His shoulders and arms extended through the numerous bedrooms with ease. His legs were forced to his sides and they grew into the walls of the first floor. Demolishing the living room, the dining room, kitchen, and any other room that stood in his way. His pecs grew forward and slammed themselves into the window in front of them and as they did, the pressure of the tightening space made gallons of ectoplasm shoot out of him like fire hydrants. Erik moaned and thrusted his hips forward as he cock grew bigger than an 18-wheeler hitting the door like a battering ram;ectoplasm constantly leaking from his tip. “THIS HOUSE IS GETTING A LITTLE SMALL FOR MY TASTE!” Erik felt all of the walls pressing into him and then the sounds of the foundation breaking could only make the giant’s cock throb harder. ___________ “Jake, slow down. Erik is probably still awake and if he hears us coming, we’re fucked,” said Erik’s friend Lucas as he caught up to his friend Jake. “Relax Lucas. This house is massive. I bet he wouldn’t be able to hear us if we were blasting an air horn on our way inside,” responded Jake. The pair walked up the driveway to the house dressed in zombie costumes, holding a few bluetooth speakers and cameras. “We just have to slip in, set up a few of these speakers and cameras around the house, and get to the basement. Then we’ll be able to watch Erik piss himself over and over again from how scared he gets.” “Yeah, yeah, I know. Just let’s make it fast. This place gives me the creeps.” They came upon the front door and stood in front of the tall wooden doors. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of this place too. It’s just a house. There’s nothing to be scared of.” Jake leaned forward, reaching for the handle, but jumped back suddenly when there was a loud bang on the door. “YES! MORE! MORE!” came a loud low voice from behind the door. “What was that?” Lucas’s eyes shot open and stared at the door as another loud knock hit the door. “Just the wind?” said Jake as bang after bang hit the door. The old wood bowing forward towards them more and more with each hit against the door. The friends looked down at the bottom of the door as a glowing white liquid seeped under the doorway and out onto the porch. “What is that stuff?” asked Lucas as he started to back away. “I don’t know…” Jake stepped backwards as the sounds of wood cracking filled the air. Looking ahead, the door began to splinter and cracks formed along the hinges. In a loud explosion, a giant flesh colored wall burst forth from the door towards the pair. “What the fuck!?!” screamed Lucas as he turned around and ran in the opposite direction of the house. Jake was frozen in place as the monster emerged from the doorway. Pushing forward towards him quickly as it tore away the walls on the sides of the door it had just bursted through. “What is that?” Jake said in shock as that white glowing liquid flowed out of a hole at the tip of the monster. “I don’t wanna find out! Jake, get out of there!” Lucas had run down the driveway of the house and watched as the worm-like monster slump towards Jake. Jake blinked multiple times as the beast towered over his head raining goop onto the ground. “Right, Right!” Jake’s senses returned to him as he heard more wood breaking and the sounds of bricks being crushed. He turned and ran away from the house as Lucas could see a figure through various windows moving. “Erik! Is he okay?” cried Lucas with a realization. Jake caught up to his friend and looked back at the house. “Maybe that thing ate him.” They looked at the house and the sides of it began to morph and bend as something inside threatened to break it down. “Should we call someone? This doesn’t seem normal.” The monster that came out the door kept growing across the front lawn and the glowing liquid began to flood it. “You got ghostbusters on speed dial or someth-” Jake’s thought was cut short as a giant arm bursted out of one side of the roof. It looked massive, like it could fit both Lucas and Jake in the palm of its hand. Another sprung free on the opposite end of the house that was just as big. The biceps were easily bigger than a car and still seemed to be getting bigger. “Holy shit…” Next came two legs that shot out the front of the house. The feet on them were taller than a person and calves bulged with power as they widened the holes. Lengthening out further into the lawn, the thighs to the legs cracked the ceilings of the first floor and brought chunks of the second floor off with them. “Is that-” With one final bang, the entire house came crashing down around a mountainous body that emerged from the wreckage. Two giant pairs of pecs pushed forward out of the second story window. Each big enough to fill an entire room and the fountain sized nipples leaked gallons of that liquid out onto the body. Out of the roof popped a giant head with short spiked white hair and glowing green eyes; the head being much taller than the two men that stood before it. “Erik?!?!” the two said in unison surprise. He was a giant that had demolished the house he had been staying in. Their friend rose higher and higher into the night sky as more of the house was destroyed by him. Debris rained down and cleared away as the giant put his hands on cock. He moaned so loud that Jake and Lucas covered their ears out to avoid their eardrums bursting. “HAHAHA! WHO’S THE MASTER NOW JONATHAN!!!” Erik’s deep voice echoed out from his big mouth. His pecs bounced with every laugh he bellowed and sent shivers down his friends’ spines. He jerked his cock that looked bigger than an airplane as two silhouettes appeared behind him. In the moonlight, Lucas and Jake could see the spheres pulsing bigger with each jack of Erik’s cock. “Are those his…balls?” Lucas gulped down his saliva as he saw the orbs rising higher behind the giant. Each one the size of a normal house filled with a metric ton of cum. Erik’s moans became faster as he pressed his cock between his pecs and gave himself a pec job as more ectoplasm was squeezed from his tits. “Lucas, we’ve gotta move! I think he’s gonna-” With an earth shaking rumble, Erik’s dick shot a massive volley of cum onto the landscape below. The initial blast flooded the front lawn and Lucas and Jake along with it, but with balls as big as Erik’s he was far from over. Shot after shot, Erik rained ectoplasm down upon the town below as his balls emptied out all of the cum they had been producing. After what felt like an eternity of cumming, Erik’s shots became smaller and smaller. Puttering out so as to only add to the lake of cum he had shot all over the front lawn of the estate. Erik’s chest heaved up and down as the giant basked in the afterglow of his orgasm. The moonlight illuminating his incredible body. Taking a deep breath, Erik felt how powerful he was and how massive he’d become. He was the biggest creature on the planet by a long shot. Nothing could be bigger than him. Looking around, he saw the rubble of the house around him. Broken wood planks and crushed wooden planks were scattered across the grounds as he shifted his body around. Looking out at the landscape that wasn't obscured by his body, he saw the entirety of it covered in his cum. The moonlight reflected off of the glowing substance giving it a ghostly vibe. Erik was brought out of his relaxing daze as he heard some movement below him. Pushing his pecs down and surveying the area, he saw two little figures wiggling around drenched in his cum. “WELL LOOK WHO’S HERE.” Erik smirked and reached forward and grabbed the two tiny men in his massive grip. Erik brought them up to his face and looked at his tiny friends that were no bigger than action figures to him. “SORRY, DIDN’T MEAN TO SCARE YOU LITTLE GUYS. I’M NOT GONNA HURT YOU TWO!” Erik laughed and the low, loud voice rattled the bones of his friends. “Master…” said Jake in a monotone voice. Squinting his eyes, Erik looked at his friends and saw their skin had become pail. Their eyes glowed green and were voidless of any thought as he held them in his hands. “Must make Master bigger,” came Lucas as well. Erik opened his palm and his friends bowed down to him. “HMM, I’M YOUR MASTER NOW, HUH?” Erik’s face morphed into a grin as he began to stand up, his giant footfalls sent earthquakes all over the town. “HAS A NICE RING TO IT.” Standing at over 100 feet tall and weighing thousands of pounds, Erik began to walk towards the town with his cock and balls dragging along the ground behind him. Ready to see just how much of the town had succumbed to their new ruler and already feeling his next load coming on to indoctrinate any survivors who dare go against him.

The Diner by morirena It's evening. I'm seated alone in a diner, located somewhere between my workplace and home. The place is a little worn around the edges, like a memory that's been played back too many times. The faux leather of the booth seats is cracked, the linoleum floor scuffed and faded. The smell of stale coffee lingers in the air, mingling with the faint grease from the kitchen. A neon sign in the window buzzes faintly, casting a sickly glow that seems more tired than inviting. The lighting is dim, not by intention but simply because half the bulbs in the overhead fixtures are on their last legs. A tired jukebox in the corner plays an old country tune, the kind of song that seems to have been on repeat for decades, its crackling notes blending with the faint clatter of dishes and muffled conversations. The diner has seen better days, but there's a comfort in its neglect—a place where time seems to move slower, as if it’s given up trying to keep pace with the world outside. I'm a regular. They know me here. Most of the customers here are regulars, just like me. We have sat in the same seats every day for the last fifteen years. We have never spoken a word to each other. I come in at six fifteen, every day, on the dot. I always have the same counter seat, third from the left. Sandra, her grey-blue hair set firmly in the same perm as always, will come by, greet me in the same practiced tone, and make some small talk about the weather. I'll make the same tired joke. She will laugh as if I hadn't said it a thousand times over. I have the same thing every day—a turkey sandwich with a side of coleslaw and a coffee while I watch the news on the old TV hanging from a corner bracket on the wall. The picture is grainy, the volume a little too low, but I don't mind. It's enough to see the familiar faces, the same anchors talking about the same headlines. While waiting for the food to arrive, I lay out the cutlery and napkin on my table with precision, each item in its rightful place, no margin for deviation. If the ketchup or hot sauce is not in the right spot, I adjust it without thinking. Everything precise, controlled, unchanging. I like coming here not because the food is especially good, but because it’s always exactly the same quality—predictable, safe, free from surprises. At seven o’clock sharp, I will take my leave nodding to Sandra on my way out. I will step back into the cold night air and drive home in my '98 Ford Crown Victoria, a car that suits me—simple, unassuming, and reliable. Then I will head to my small, tidy apartment. The routine is my anchor. This is the way I like it. Today, something is different. Ten minutes to the hour, the diner doors burst open, shattering the muted calm. Three men stride in, their voices booming with laughter, cutting through the low hum of the place. They look like they've stepped straight off a construction site—gritty, big, and unapologetically loud. Their laughter feels too big for the tired space. Two of them are older, well into their forties or fifties, their grizzled beards and lined faces adding years to their burly frames. Their uniforms—worn t-shirts and jeans—strain over their massive bellies, barely containing their broad shoulders. Dusty boots clomp against the linoleum, leaving a trace of the outside world in their wake. The third guy, though, stands out. Young, barely in his twenties, his clean-shaven face with almost delicate features giving him a freshness that contrasts sharply with the rugged older men. His tight white wifebeater clings to his chest, stretched taut over massive pecs, ready to burst at any moment. Where the two older men are broad and round all over, the young man's powerful shoulders taper down to a trim but sturdy waist. Thick, barrel-like arms the size of my thighs make him seem almost too big for the diner—like he could tear the place apart if he chose. His muscular legs strain his faded jeans, each step making the material creak in protest. Yet, despite his imposing size, he moves with a surprising grace, an effortless confidence—a swagger that belongs to someone who knows exactly the power they command. The entire diner turns to look at them, their entrance too loud to ignore. The regulars shift uncomfortably in their seats, some exchanging nervous glances, others simply staring, wide-eyed. A man in the corner booth lowers his newspaper slightly, his eyes narrowing at the boisterous newcomers. An older couple, seated near the window, exchange whispers, their expressions a mix of curiosity and disapproval. Even the cook, barely visible through the pass window, pauses for a moment, his spatula hovering mid-air as he takes in the sudden burst of energy in the otherwise quiet diner. I feel a jolt run through me, startled, almost affronted by the sudden disruption. Their presence feels like an intrusion into my carefully controlled world, an insult to good order. Their laughter echoes off the walls, louder than anything else in this quiet place. They don’t seem to care about the attention—if anything, they revel in it. Sandra hurries over to greet them. Her small frame seems almost swallowed by the men's size and energy, their broad shoulders and booming voices dwarfing her in every way. I cannot even hear what she says over the clamour of their voices. She gestures towards a booth, but the young man laughs, gesturing at his companions. "Ma’am, that ain't gonna fit even one of these fatasses." Sandra leads them to a table, her steps quick and slightly flustered. The men follow, their heavy boots thudding against the worn linoleum with each step. The younger man strides confidently, his broad shoulders almost brushing the narrow aisle as he moves. The older men lumber behind him, their size making the cramped diner feel even smaller. Chairs are pulled closer to tables as the men pass, as if the regulars want to make themselves smaller, out of the way. People seem to shrink in their presence, avoiding eye contact and hunching over their meals. As they move by my seat, the young man's massive arm brushes against my shoulder, jarring me with a strange sensation. It’s a confused frisson, a mix of shock, discomfort, and something else I can't quite place. He smells like a mix of sweat, cheap cologne, and dust from the construction site— in other words, utterly alien to my existence. I freeze, my breath catching for a moment, my body tensing as if to hold onto the fleeting contact, even as my mind rebels against the intrusion. The young man glances down at me with a grin, "Sorry, man, it's a tight squeeze," he says, his tone casual and almost amused. The men settle heavily into their seats, their size overwhelming the small table, which looks almost comical beneath them. The flimsy wooden chairs creak and groan under their weight, the sound cutting through the diner’s uneasy silence. The older men shift around uncomfortably, their thick legs barely fitting beneath the table. One of them leans back, his belly pressing against the edge of the table, while the other tries to adjust his position, the chair protesting every move. The young man laughs and slaps the table as if daring it to hold up. His mountainous shoulders and back overwhelm his chair on either side. The older men exchange glances, their expressions a mix of amusement and anticipation, as if they know something is about to happen. The other diners steal glances at them, their eyes darting back and forth between the newcomers and their precarious seating, a collective tension hanging in the air. Sandra starts handing out faded, tatty menus, her hands trembling slightly as she tries to maintain her smile. Before she can finish, the young man waves her off with a wide grin. "Nah, we don't need those. We already know what we're gettin'." He turns to the older men, his voice booming across the diner. "Alright, you fat old fucks, how 'bout we make this a little interesting? Loser buys the winner's meal." The older men exchange knowing looks, their faces splitting into grins. "Oh, you're on," one of them says, his voice dripping with challenge. "Think you can handle it, kid? You talk a big game for a skinny little runt." The other man laughs, giving his huge belly a good-natured slap. "Don't say we didn't warn ya, junior." The young man leans forward, massive shoulders bulging. "I'll put you both under the table," he grins. The older men laugh, shaking their heads, and one of them jabs a thick finger in his direction. "You better be ready to eat those words, kid. And maybe a few more ribs while you're at it." The young man laughs, raising his hand to get Sandra's attention again. He rattles off a list of items so quickly I can barely catch what he is saying. Sandra's eyes widen. She nods, her pencil trembling as she scribbles down the order, before hurrying away towards the kitchen. One of the older men calls after her, "And don't skimp on the sides, sweetheart!" As they wait, the men talk and laugh loudly, their deep voices filling the diner, drowning out the soft clatter of dishes and muffled conversations. One of the patrons, an older gentleman sitting at the counter, shakes his head in disapproval, his face tightening with irritation. He pushes his half-eaten plate away and stands up abruptly, muttering under his breath as he leaves the diner, unable to take the noise any longer. The bell above the door chimes as it swings shut behind him, the sound almost drowned by the raucous laughter of the men. I wince, their voices grating against my ears, each burst of noise a jarring disruption to the peaceful monotony I crave. They’re rubes, loud and brash, here to disturb the fragile quiet of my routine. My eyes narrow as I watch them, a dull resentment churning in my gut. I wish them away, silently praying for their orders to arrive quickly so they could eat and leave, taking their chaos with them. The smell of coffee and grease that usually feels comforting now seems tainted by their presence, their voices invading every corner of the small diner, refusing to let me have a moment’s peace. Sandra emerges from the kitchen, her small frame weighed down by the sheer number of plates she carries. Her arms are full, plates stacked precariously up to her chin, and she moves carefully, her eyes focused and determined. She balances a large tray on one shoulder, each step deliberate as she approaches the table. The plates are laden with thick, juicy burgers, the grease glistening under the dim diner lights, and she winces slightly as a drop of sauce slips off the side, nearly splattering on the floor. She lets out a small sigh of relief as she reaches the table, carefully lowering the tray onto the edge before beginning to place each plate in front of the men. "There you go boys, the house special double patty burgers," she announces. "Will you look at that, Larry! Thems what I call real burgers," bellows one of the older men to the other, who whistles. The eating competition kicks off in earnest. The young man grabs his burger, his biceps bulging, his knuckles brushing against Larry's as they both reach for their food at the same time. "Watch it, old timer. I ain't goin' down that easy," he says, his voice thick with playful defiance. Larry chuckles, his deep voice rolling across the diner. "You think you can beat me, kid? I've been doin' this since you were in diapers." He takes a massive bite, chewing with his mouth open, the sound wet and almost obscene. The smell of grilled meat fills the air, mingling with the heavy scent of sweat as both men dig in with fervor. The other older man, slightly less bulky than Larry, joins in, shoving a burger into his mouth with less bravado but equal determination. "Don't count me out yet, you motherfuckers," he mutters, his voice barely audible over the noise of their eating. I can't help but put down my tiny, tasteless sandwich, staring at this spectacle. The young man polishes off his enormous burger in barely three bites, juices running down his fingers. His throat swells with each bite goes down. Larry finishes just as quickly, followed by the second older man. The other diners are watching too—eyes darting between the three men, some amused, others bewildered or offended by this brash performance. Sandra moves between the tables, her eyes wide as she tries to keep up with their demands. I catch her gaze at one point, and she looks almost apologetic, as if she wishes she could rein in their rowdiness. The next round is ribs, piled high and slathered in barbecue sauce. It seems like an impossible amount of food for any one person to eat. The young man picks up a rib, the sauce smearing across his fingers, and tears into it with a grin. His lips are slick with grease as he nods at Larry. "What's the matter, Larry? You hittin' the brakes already?"" Larry grunts, his face flushed. He grabs a rib, sauce dripping onto his shirt as he bites into it, his thick fingers clutching the bone. "Not a damn chance, kid," he retorts, his voice strained between bites. The sound of gnawing fills the space, accompanied by the occasional smack of their lips. The smell of barbecue is overpowering, the tangy sweetness hanging in the air like a thick fog. I feel my stomach churn slightly at the sight of their voracious eating. Part of me wants to look away, but I can't. There's something both repulsive and fascinating about their gluttony—a raw display of dominance. The young man laughs, pointing at Sam. "Sam's lookin' a lil' green around the gills there." He grins, his voice dripping with mockery. "Fuck you!" Sam snaps, but his voice lacks conviction. He shifts in his seat, trying to catch his breath as he tries to finish another rib. The young man just chuckles, shaking his head, while Larry raises an eyebrow. As the men eat, the pile of bones at the centre of the table grows. It barely takes them five minutes to each polish off an entire rack, including the sides of coleslaw and mashed potatos. I feel almost sick looking at the amount of food they have consumed. Sandra brings over another tray, this time loaded with fried chicken—crispy, golden pieces, still steaming from the fryer. "Here you go, boys," she says, her voice almost a whisper. The young man grins, flexing his arms as he reaches for a drumstick. "Now we're talkin'. This is my kind of challenge," he says, locking eyes with Larry. You could almost hear an audible gasp run through the diner—how could they be still eating? Larry snorts, his breath labored. "Kid, you're gonna regret this," he says, his voice raspy but determined. He grabs a piece of fried chicken, the crispy skin crackling under his teeth as he takes a massive bite, grease coating his lips. Sam, meanwhile, is visibly struggling. He sets his fork down, shaking his head. "I'm out, boys," he says, his voice resigned. He slumps back in his chair, his gut swollen, and his face flushed from the effort. The young man and Larry exchange glances, their eyes narrowing in challenge. The young man and Larry exchange glances, their eyes narrowing in challenge. "Just you and me now, Larry," the young man says, his grin widening. His eyes have that dangerous spark, and I can't help but feel a strange flutter in my chest—part excitement, part nervous energy. The smell of fried chicken and gravy hangs heavily in the air, mingling with the sweat and determination that seems to radiate off both men. The other diners are murmuring amongst themselves, their eyes glued to the scene. A man at the counter lets out a low whistle. "They're gonna burst," he says to no one in particular, shaking his head. Larry and the young man move on to the next round, their movements slower, more deliberate. Their bellies are visibly swollen, and their faces are flushed. The young man's chest heaves with each breath, but he still manages to maintain that cocky grin. As Sandra passes me with a tray laden with their next course, I touch her arm. “Are they ever going to stop eating?” I ask. She looks at me with a stricken expression. “Lord only knows.” Sandra staggers over to their table, her hands shaking slightly as she sets down the next plates—loaded chili cheese fries. Larry groans but grabs a fistful of fries. The young man laughs. "What's the matter, Larry? Thought you said you could keep up." He spears a pile of fries, shoving them into his mouth, the chili smearing across his lips. Larry merely grunts in reply. The jukebox in the corner crackles, playing an old rock song with a steady, driving beat that seems to match the rhythm of the young man's relentless eating. I watch, my pulse quickening. There's something almost hypnotic about the way the young man moves—his confidence, the raw power in his every action. His heavy chest ripples beneath the fabric of his sweat-stained shirt, each bite a display of brute determination. The way his arms flex, his massive biceps straining as he relentlessly stuffs more food into his mouth, is oddly mesmerizing. His face is flushed, but his eyes hold that fierce, almost savage glint. His mouth is covered in sauce and juices, as are his meaty hands. I can feel my face flush, a mix of embarrassment and something more unsettling—a tingling deep in my loins that horrifies me. I look down to see my hands trembling. I grasp the edge of the formica counter, steadying myself. Sandra moves around the table cautiously, her eyes darting from one man to the next. "Everything good so far, boys?" she asks timidly. "Just fine, ma'am," the young man replies, his mouth full of fries. “‘Cept Larry here might hurl at any moment, so you might wanna bring a bucket.” The competition stretches on. The vast pile of fries in the middle of the table dwindles, disappearing into the seemingly bottomless bellies of the two men. Larry leans back, wiping sweat from his forehead. He's panting with effort, and he takes a moment to catch his breath. "Kid, maybe we should call it a draw," he says, his voice strained but hopeful, as if trying to salvage some pride. The young man shakes his head, a grin spreading across his face. "A draw? Not a chance, old man. We haven't even had dessert yet." He slaps his swollen belly, a confident gleam in his eyes. Larry sighs, shaking his head slightly, but there's a resigned smile tugging at his lips. By the time the desserts are served—pancakes piled high with whipped cream and drenched in syrup, I can scarcely believe any human being could still be eating. Larry almost groans out loud at the sight of the mountain of food before him. He is visibly struggling. His breaths come in ragged gasps, his face beet red, sweat streaming down his temples. His belly rises and falls heavily with each labored breath, a stark reminder of everything he'd already put away. His eyes, once filled with that spark of competition, are now weary, almost defeated. He grabs his fork and takes a shaky bite of pancake. His entire body seems to protest each movement—his shoulders slump, and his hand trembles as he raises the fork to his mouth. The pancakes appear almost insurmountable, a physical manifestation of his limits. The young man, however, remains steady. His face is flushed, beads of sweat rolling down his temples and gathering at his jawline, but his eyes still hold that fierce gleam. He attacks the pancakes with the same fierce determination, his eyes still gleaming, his movements confident and unyielding. His tight shirt clings to the sweat-soaked contours of his chest and back, outlining each muscle as he moves. He glances over at Larry, his grin widening, a spark of triumph already in his eyes. "Come on, Larry," he taunts, his voice still filled with energy. "Don't you quit on me." Sam, watching the young man's relentless pace, shakes his head in disbelief. "Kid, you're a fucking monster," he says, his voice tinged with a mix of admiration and astonishment. The words hang in the air, a recognition of the sheer tenacity the young man has shown. The other diners nod slightly, their expressions mirroring Sam's sentiment—awed by the young man's sheer determination and infinite appetite. The young man grins, syrup smeared across his lips, and with a grunt of satisfaction, he unbuckles his belt, giving himself more room as his swollen belly pushes against the confines of his shirt. He keeps moving, shoveling another forkful of pancakes into his mouth, not missing a beat. Larry glares at him, his expression full of frustration and grudging respect. "Kid... you ain't... winning this," he manages between labored breaths, but his hand shakes as he lifts another forkful of pancake to his mouth. His jaw works slowly, each chew a laborious effort. The weight of the food, the oppressive heat of the diner, and the smell of sweat and syrup seem to press down on him, crushing his resolve. His eyes, bloodshot from exertion, dart towards the young man, and for a moment, there's a flash of something—fear, perhaps, or maybe the dawning realization that he might not have enough left in him. He's barely able to get in another bite. Sandra stands by, her expression a mix of awe and concern, her lips slightly parted as she watches the spectacle unfold. She clutches her tray tightly, her knuckles white, as if bracing herself for what might happen next. The other diners are utterly silent now, their eyes fixed on the two men as if they were watching a high-stakes prizefight. I can feel my own heart pounding in my chest, my hands clammy against the countertop. Try as I might, I can't look away from these brutes, engaged in their brazen orgy of masculine excess. My body seems aflame with gross sensations. Weak! I scream at myself. You weak, perverted little man! The young man suddenly slams his fork down, grabbing the entire plate with both hands and tilting it towards his mouth. The pancakes slide down, syrup and whipped cream smearing across his face and dripping down his chest as he devours them. He lets out a muffled laugh, his eyes fixed on Larry, who watches, wide-eyed and beaten. Larry drops his fork with a clatter, slumping back into his chair, his chest heaving. His face is flushed a deep crimson, beads of sweat trickling down his temples and disappearing into his collar. His swollen belly sags into his thighs, forcing them apart slightly. His eyes, once filled with determination, now hold only exhaustion, a weary acceptance of defeat. He looks utterly spent, his broad shoulders slumped, his whole body seeming to sag, drained of energy and will. "Alright, kid... you win," he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. The young man lets out a triumphant roar, raising his heavily muscled arms in victory. His tight white shirt, rendered translucent with sweat, is stained with sweat and syrup, and straining over the tight dome of a belly that wasn't there before. He glances around the diner, meeting my eyes for just a moment. Did he just give me a wink—or was I imagining it? My breath catches in my throat, and I feel my stomach lurch. A heat spreads across my face, my heart pounding against my ribs as if trying to break free. There's something in his gaze that sends a shiver through me, leaving me both unnerved and ecstatic. A few of the other diners clap, while others shake their heads in disbelief. An old woman tuts, muttering to herself, "Young people these days!" Sam reaches forward to pat the young man's bloated gut, a tired grin spreading across his face. "Kid, I don't know where you put it all," he says, shaking his head, his voice a mix of admiration and exasperation. He lets out a deep breath, still slightly winded from his own effort, but there's a glimmer of respect in his eyes as he looks at the young man. Larry is slumped in his chair, staring stupefied at his own enormous, over-inflated gut. The young man, ever the showman, leans over to Larry's plate, his grin widening as he spears the leftover food with his fork. He lifts the sloppy mess to his mouth, the grease and sauce dripping down onto table. "Can't be wastin' good food, old man," he says, his voice oozing confidence as he shoves it all in, chewing with exaggerated motions. He makes a show of licking his fingers clean, his eyes never leaving Larry's, as if daring him to protest. Then, with a deliberate motion, he flexes his massive arm right in Larry's face, the bicep bulging obscenely, veins standing out against the sweat-slick skin. Larry, defeated and exhausted, can only groan, his eyes glazed with fatigue, the fight completely drained out of him. The young man laughs, the triumphant boom echoing through the diner. The table is a disaster—plates stacked haphazardly, smeared with streaks of barbecue sauce, syrup, and half-eaten remnants of burgers and ribs. Pools of grease glisten under the dim lights, reflecting the mess that has overtaken the space. Chicken bones and scraps litter the tabletop, some precariously hanging off the edge. Crumpled napkins, soaked with grease, are strewn across the surface. The air smells thick with sweat, meat, and the sharp tang of spilled hot sauce. The poor table, overwhelmed, seems almost like a casualty in their competition. Bits of food—shreds of coleslaw, crusts of bread, and fragments of ribs—are scattered across the floor, some mashed underfoot. A half-eaten fry lies crushed beneath a chair leg, smeared across the linoleum. My heart pounds erratically, my breath coming in shallow gasps as I stare at the chaotic aftermath. The glistening remnants of a feast is both horrifying and captivating. I feel like I'm suffocating, the air thick with the overwhelming scent of sweat, barbecue, and syrup. Everything about my neat, ordered world seems shattered, disrupted by the sheer, visceral presence of these men, by their unapologetic excess. I'm panting, my head spinning, a strange mix of disgust and fascination gnawing at me. My eyes flick to the young man, his massive, overfed body emanating raw power that washes over me, engulfs me. Something deep stirs within me, an emotion I can't fully comprehend but can't deny either. The tightness in my chest is mirrored by the tightening in my crotch, and I glance down, horrified to see an erection tenting my pants. I swallow hard, my face burning with shame. Suddenly, Sandra’s voice cuts through my haze. "You done, hon?" she asks, her tone gentle but her eyes showing concern. My half-eaten sandwich sits forgotten on the counter, and I fumble for words, barely able to meet her gaze. "Uh... yeah, I... I'm done," I stammer, my voice cracking. I toss a few bills on the table, not even bothering to count them, and stumble out of the diner, my legs feeling like jelly. As the door swings shut behind me, the noise of the diner cuts off abruptly, replaced by an eerie quiet. The sudden silence feels almost suffocating, pressing in on my ears as if the world has momentarily stopped. The muffled clatter of dishes and laughter fades instantly, and all that’s left is the distant hum of a streetlight and the soft rustle of wind. I have to get away, put distance between myself and whatever just happened in there. The cool night air hits me like a slap, and I gulp it down, trying to steady my nerves. I stumble to my car, my hands trembling so badly that I can barely hold onto my keys. My breath comes in quick, shallow gasps, and my heart feels like it's trying to punch its way out of my chest. I fumble with the keys, my fingers slick with sweat. They slip from my grasp and clatter onto the asphalt, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet night. I crouch down, my legs shaky, and scoop them up, but as I straighten, everything feels wrong. My car squats before me, the familiar shape somehow unfamiliar, my sense of normalcy shattered. I jab the key toward the lock, but I can't seem to get it to fit, my coordination failing me in the midst of my panic. The key scratches against the paint, and I curse under my breath. A huge shadow, cast by the light from the diner, falls over me, growing larger as it draws near. It blots out the soft glow of the streetlight, sending a chill down my spine. "Where you runnin' off to so quick, huh?" The deep voice rumbles, dripping with amusement, shattering the stillness of the night like a hammer. My pulse spikes, and I feel a jolt of adrenaline course through me, my gut tightening at the sound of his words, half-teasing, half-something else. I spin around, my heart thundering in my ears. It's the young man. Immense, towering over me, his chest still rising and falling from the exertion of the feast. I only come up to his collarbone. He is twice as wide as I am, a wall of meat. He’s grinning, his eyes locked onto mine, an intensity there that freezes me in place. The sight of him leaves me feeling small, cornered, but my body refuses to move. The young man's massive arms rest against the roof of my car, his body looming over me, blocking out everything else. He leans in, his face mere inches away from mine. His breath is hot and heavy, the scent of syrup, sweat, and barbecue almost overwhelming. His distended belly, full and taut, presses slightly against me, the warmth of it radiating through my shirt. The closeness of him, the sheer power of his body, leaves me breathless—my pulse racing wildly, my skin tingling. The smell, his presence, everything about him fills my senses, leaving me feeling small and trapped. My heart pounds with terror and anticipation. "Thought you'd appreciate the show," he says, his voice low, almost a growl. He smirks, his eyes glinting in the dim light. "Kept me goin', knowin' you were watchin'." The words are both taunting and oddly intimate, like a secret shared between us. His gaze holds mine, unyielding, the intensity of it making my breath hitch. I try to stammer out a denial, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I-I wasn't... I didn't mean..." The words tumble out, disjointed and weak, my face burning with shame. I want to look away, to break free from his gaze, but I can't. He holds me there, pinned by his monumental presence. "Your mouth was hangin' open the whole time," he says, his grin widening. "Hell, you were so hard, I thought you were gonna bust right there in the diner." He moves closer, his hand reaching down, grabbing my crotch with a firm, deliberate squeeze. My knees nearly buckle from the shock, my breath catching in my throat. "I liked watchin' you watch me," he murmurs, his voice husky, almost affectionate. The heat of his hand sends a spasm through me, my entire body trembling under his touch. I cry out, a high, strained sound escaping me. Panic floods my veins as I glance around, my voice cracking, "People will see! Your friends—Larry, Sam—they'll see!" My words come out in a rush, my eyes darting frantically towards the diner, praying that someone might come out, but yet hoping that nobody would. He chuckles, the sound deep and amused. "Larry and Sam? Nah, those bastards ain't movin' anywhere for at least half an hour." He takes the keys from my unresisting hands, his fingers brushing mine briefly, before turning and unlocking the car with a click. He opens the back door with a commanding ease, the hinges groaning slightly in protest. He looks at me, his eyes dark. "Get in," he says, his voice brooking no argument, the words heavy with intent. My heart pounds in my ears, drowning out every rational thought. My body moves before my mind can catch up, drawn by some unspoken force, the air thick with anticipation and fear. I stumble backward into the backseat, my legs hanging awkwardly out of the car. My body feels disconnected from my mind, moving of its own accord, as if I were a puppet with strings being pulled. How could this be happening? The question rings in my mind, frantic and disjointed, a desperate plea for some kind of sense amidst the chaos. The cool night air rushes past my legs, and I feel the hard edge of the car seat pressing against my side. My heart thunders in my chest, and I struggle to catch my breath, my vision narrowing as panic seizes me. "I'm old enough to be your father," I stammer. “Sounds ‘bout right,” he observes indifferently, as he grabs the hem of his wifebeater. He lifts it over his swollen belly, the taut fabric catching for a moment before sliding up, revealing a solid, hairy dome of muscle. His abdomen is packed tight, food pressing against the inside, pushing the firm ridges of his abs outward. The hair running down the centre his belly glistens slightly, the sweat catching the dim streetlight. His thick lats flare, and for a moment, he struggles, the shirt catching on their width, making him laugh with a rumble that vibrates through the air. "Shut up and help me out," he says, his voice a deep growl, bending over with his arms outstretched. With trembling hands, I reach towards him, my fingers brushing against his hot, slick skin as I help peel the shirt over his torso and shoulders. The fabric clings for a moment before finally coming free, and he stands up straight, tossing the wifebeater aside. His massive pecs bounce with the motion, large dark nipples proudly erect in the cold night air. He lets out a sigh of relief, his hands moving down to the buttons of his jeans. He pops them open, one by one, each release allowing his swollen belly to sag down slightly, finally given space. "Much better," he mutters, almost to himself, as if savoring the freedom. He lets his jeans fall open. There's nothing underneath—no underwear to hold back the sheer size of him. His cock spills out, thick and heavy, hanging low between his legs. The hair at his groin is dark and dense, a tangled, damp nest. His fat cock is veined, the head flushed, and his balls hang low, heavy and swollen. Everything about him seems oversized, exaggerated, full of masculine force. The sight leaves me breathless, my throat dry. He grips my shirt tightly, and without warning, tears it open. Buttons scatter everywhere, bouncing off the car seat and floor with small, sharp clicks. I gasp in shock, my eyes wide as I stare up at him, my pale skin exposed, my narrow chest looking fragile and bird-like compared to his solid mass. The air is thick with the musky scent of sweat and leather from the car seats. He reaches for my pants, but my hands beat him there, fumbling hastily with the clasps and zipper. My fingers tremble as I hurriedly pull my pants and underwear down over my slim hips and legs, wriggling out of them like a small child, kicking them off my feet. The rustle of fabric and the creak of the car’s upholstery seem unnaturally loud in the confined space. I lay back against the car seat, my body acting on instinct as I spread and lift my legs, exposing myself completely. My breathing is ragged, as though I've run a marathon, my chest rising and falling quickly. My cock is painfully hard, leaking, and I barely recognize myself—this small, needy creature overwhelmed by lust, totally out of control. “Please,” I plead, my voice barely a whisper. He looks down at my body, taking in every detail, his gaze lingering on my exposed skin. He’s fully erect now, terrifyingly huge, precum glistening at the tip of his cock. The scent of him fills the car, an overpowering mix of sweat, precum, and the faint lingering scent of barbecue. It’s dizzying, almost suffocating, and my head swims with the intensity of it all. “Fuck, you’re a natural,” he mutters, his voice a low growl filled with raw desire. He climbs into the car, his massive body almost too large for the confined space, his shoulders scraping against the car door. The car sinks under his weight, the suspension groaning in protest. The leather seat creaks loudly as he shifts, his heavy breathing filling the air. His torso forces my legs apart, spreading me open as he positions himself over me. I feel the full weight of his body pressing down on mine, his swollen belly crushing against me, one hand planted firmly next to my head for support. His skin is hot, slick with sweat, and the sharp scent of it mingles with the heavy musk of sex in the air. He spits into his other hand, the wet sound almost obscene in the quiet of the car, rubbing the saliva over the length of his cock, his eyes never leaving mine as he reaches between his legs, guiding himself to my entrance. My heart is pounding in my chest, the sound echoing in my ears as his face hovers above mine, our eyes locked together. He grins, the corners of his mouth curling upwards in that familiar, arrogant smirk. “You know, nothing makes me hornier than a big meal and a small, skinny twink,” he says, his voice rough and teasing. His breath washes over my face, hot and heavy, carrying the tang of barbecue and something uniquely his. The air inside the car feels thick and oppressive, every inhale saturated with his scent, the musk of sweat, and the faint metallic tang of fear. The creak of the car’s springs and the rustle of fabric are the only sounds besides our labored breathing, a rhythm that matches the pulse thundering in my ears. I feel the head of his cock press against me, the heat of it almost scalding. For a moment, panic seizes me, and I think he's too big—that I’ll be torn apart like an overfilled paper bag. Before I can react, he thrusts forward, hard and fast, burying himself inside me in one powerful motion. A scream tears from my throat, raw and filled with agony, my back arching off the seat as the pain shoots through me, white-hot and blinding. His heavy balls slap against my ass with a wet, fleshy sound, the force of his thrust driving the air from my lungs. I feel his pubes grazing my buttocks. My fingers claw at his back, raking across his skin as a surge of intense, overwhelming sensations floods my body. My scream hangs in the air, raw and desperate, but he doesn’t relent. His face above mine remains set, almost indifferent, yet there’s something fierce and wild in his eyes, a look that sends shivers through me. He waits a heartbeat, letting me take him in, feeling me stretch painfully around his girth. The weight of him is oppressive, crushing me into the seat, making it hard to breathe. The sound of our bodies meeting fills the car, wet and rhythmic, each thrust punctuated by the creak of the seat beneath us. He smirks, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead, before he pulls back, just an inch, only to push in again, slow but deliberate. The initial shock, the sting of his intrusion, begins to shift as my body struggles to adjust. “Relax,” he says, his voice a low rumble, almost soothing. His hand grips my thigh, rough fingers digging into my skin, keeping me in place. “You’ll get used to it.” He moves again, a slow, deliberate thrust, his cock sliding in and out with measured force. His breath is hot against my face, the mingled scent of sweat, barbecue, and something uniquely him flooding my senses. My body tenses, instinctively trying to fight against the overwhelming sensation, but he’s relentless, his weight pinning me, demanding submission. The oppressive heat of his body and the pungent, musky smell of sweat make my head swim, each breath filling my lungs with his overpowering presence. Slowly, gradually, the sharp pain begins to fade, giving way to something else—something unfamiliar, a strange, simmering heat building deep inside me. My breaths come in shallow gasps, the air heavy with the scent of him, my eyes wide as they meet his, searching for something, anything. His gaze is unwavering, a flicker of satisfaction playing at the corners of his mouth as he watches my body yield beneath him. My body’s instinct to resist falters, giving way to the steady rhythm he’s setting. The pain recedes, replaced by a strange fullness, a heat radiating through my core. He growls, low in his throat, his free hand moving to my legs, spreading me wider, as if daring me to resist. His massive frame fills the backseat, and I feel impossibly small beneath him—powerless, exposed, and utterly at his mercy. The car is filled with the sounds of our bodies, the rhythmic creak of the springs, the slap of flesh against flesh, and his deep, animalistic grunts. The sensation changes, a spark of pleasure igniting amidst the discomfort. My gasp turns into a moan, my head falling back against the seat. I feel his hips moving faster, his thrusts deepening. Each movement sends a shockwave through me, my body responding despite the fear, despite the shame. My fingers dig into his thick arms, feeling the raw power in them. His belly feels full and heavy as a sack of grain resting on my thin body. He picks up the pace, his thrusts coming harder, faster, the car rocking slightly under his weight. The windows fog with the heat of our bodies, my own cries mixing with the low, animalistic grunts coming from deep in his chest. The air is thick, suffocating. The world outside feels distant, unreal, as if nothing exists beyond the confines of this car, beyond the crushing weight of him inside me. My body arches beneath him, the pain dissolving completely now, replaced by a rising, undeniable pleasure. His cock drives into me, hitting something deep inside that sends sparks of ecstasy shooting through my veins. My moans grow louder, uncontrolled, and I feel his eyes on me, watching every reaction, every twist of my face as I give in to the sensation. I try to stifle myself but I can’t, my body no longer my own. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against my ear, his breath hot and ragged, carrying with it the sour tang of sweat. “Knew you’d like it,” he murmurs, his voice filled with dark amusement. I’m panting, my body trembling beneath him, my legs wrapped around his thick waist, holding on as he pounds into me, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge. His hard, distended belly presses heavily against my own, the rough hair on his chest rubbing against my skin, adding to the overwhelming sensory overload. His pace is brutal, relentless, each movement purposeful, calculated to wring every ounce of pleasure from me. The pressure builds, a tight coil deep in my gut, winding tighter and tighter with each thrust. I can barely breathe, my head spinning, my entire world narrowed down to this moment, to the feel of him inside me, the weight of his body, the heat of his skin. My fingers turn into claws, my nails digging into the hard muscle of his shoulders as the tension inside me snaps, pleasure crashing over me in a blinding wave. I cry out, my body convulsing around him, the intensity of it almost too much to bear. I spurt all over myself, my cum splattering across my stomach and chest. He groans deeply, his thrusts growing erratic, his breath hot and heavy against my neck. I feel him tense, his entire body going rigid, and then he pulls out, his hand moving quickly to his cock as he strokes himself. With a guttural growl tearing from his throat, he comes all over me, thick ropes of cum splattering across my body, mixing with my cum and sweat, dripping down my sides onto the car seat. The heat of it leaves me shuddering, my body still trembling in the aftermath, my heart pounding in my chest. The pungent, salty scent of cum fills the car, mixing with the other smells, creating an overwhelming, heady brew. For a moment, neither of us moves, and there is the only sound our ragged breathing against the faint sound of crickets. His weight is crushing, his body pressing me into the seat, and yet there’s something oddly comforting in the closeness, in the warmth of him surrounding me. He lifts his head, his eyes meeting mine, a smug, satisfied grin spreading across his face. “Fuckin’ sweet, wasn't it,” he says, his voice low, almost affectionate, as if we’ve shared some intimate secret. “I think you needed that.” He pulls out slowly, and I wince at the sensation, my body sore and spent. He sits back, his massive frame barely fitting in the cramped space, and I catch a glimpse of the mess we’ve made—my clothes torn and scattered, the sweat and cum-soaked upholstery, the fogged windows. I feel a flush of shame, the reality of what just happened crashing over me, but there’s no denying the pleasure that still pulses through my veins, the strange satisfaction in the ache between my legs. He reaches out, his hand brushing against my cheek, almost tenderly, before he pulls away, a smirk still playing at his lips. “See you around, old man,” he says, climbing out of the car, his massive body unfolding, filling the night air with his presence. I watch as he grabs his shirt off the ground before walking away, his bare back gleaming with sweat, his stride confident, unbothered, as if this was just another challenge conquered. I’m left there, sprawled in the backseat, my body aching, my heart pounding, my mind a chaotic mess of conflicting emotions. The cold night air rushes in through the open door, and I shiver, a deep, bone-chilling shudder that leaves me feeling hollow, exposed. I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing, to make sense of what just happened, but the only thing I can focus on is the lingering heat of his touch, the memory of his body, and the twisted, undeniable thrill of surrendering myself completely. I still go back to the diner every evening at six fifteen. The same regulars are still there, all in our usual seats. Sandra often talks about that day when three giants suddenly descended on our little cafe, having the most absurd, over the top eating competition. But Larry, Sam and the big young man have never shown up again. I look at the menu she hands me, her chatter disappearing into the background din. "Well Sandra," I say finally, "Perhaps I'll have the ribs today for a change."

!!CRIME SCENE!! DO NOT CROSS IF EASILY AFFECTED!! !!!!!CONTENT WARNING!!!!! THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN VIOLENCE AND TOPICS THAT MIGHT DISTURB, SUCH AS UNDERAGE VIOLENCE BUT ONLY THIS ONCE !!!! 'It has been a sunny afternoon when irish born Eoghan Ó Rian, his English native fiancée Fiona Bennett and their two children Connor and Betty went on a family trip to visit the County of Cork. The family of four lived in Inverness in Scotland, where Eoghan, called Owen or Boss, was manager at the local Royal Bank of Scotland subsidiary and Fiona was a housewife while maintaining a photographer side business. The family travelled to Cork to visit Eoghan’s parents near Killowney. They had booked a room at 'The Blue Horizon' near Laherne Hill and decided to visit The Old Head Light Tower before travelling further to his parents. It has been a relatively warm summer day as Fiona took photos of the beautiful scenery of the ocean, the Tower, her Husband and the Kids. 4-year-old Connor was dressed in a sailor’s suit and his 5-year-old sister Betty was dressed princess Elsa from Frozen, her favourite movie. Both stood in front of the railing at the stairs, moving further down the cliff. Fiona took her professional Canon Camera and aimed for taking photos. With the flash the scenery suddenly changed completely. Fiona and Eoghan found themselves standing arm in arm on the top gallery of a light tower. The Surroundings had changed from sunny to high tide and November storm. Waves crashed around Bulls Rock like an onslaught of firearms. Thunder and lightning illuminating the dark sky and creating a scary atmosphere... Scary that was also the shrill laugh that could be heard as the wind rushed through gaps in the old rusty light tower Bull Rock. It was only then, when the turning light went past them that Eoghan and Fiona noticed the absence of their Children. With fear they made their way out on the balcony and looked down through the railing into the darkness. They blinked once or twice as a childlike Scream could be heard. The Light of the Entrance flickered twice before coming on for a minute. Long enough to see the corpses of Connor and Betty lying lifeless between the rocks, “Bast” and “Ards” written across their bodies. Fiona let out a pitched Scream that sounded like ZZ Tops Immigrant song.' “ZZ Tops Immigrant song? Rubbish.” Detective Inspector Kaelan Mac Desmond, or natively speaking Bleachtaire Cigire Caolán Mac Deasmhumhnach, flipped his ‘Inspector Plunkett’ book close and looked out the window into the stormy April night. “ZZ Top? That’s my phone!”. The 40 something man suddenly jumped up and searched is suit jacket until he found what he was looking for. “Mac Desmond?” “Sir, this is Bleachtaire Sáirsint (Detective Sergeant) Alastair Abbán Ó Neill of Tir Éogain. We have a murder to investigate.” Responds a deep husky voice on the phone. Mac Desmond curses shortly and rubs his temple since he planned on going to the Pub to watch a rugby game. “When will you arrive...” he starts to ask but is cut off by the respond “Already outside, Sir” and the call ends. Mac Desmond slipped on his raincoat and took his Umbrella before he opened the door of his tiny two-story row house on Glaslough Street. With the police Station being just across the road and a local Discounter just a few stretches up the road, the slender, yet considered athletic man made a great bargain a few years back. And being Single, the house was ideal for him. The building occupying two rooms, kitchen, bathroom and Livingroom. The weather has been Stormy the past few days in Monaghan. Heavy rain fell, so that streets were at the edge of flooding, the canalisation doing their best to keep up with the downpour. Mac Desmond was thankful, that he could just walk to work. Not so his new Sergeant, who was told to be living in the new neighbourhood adjacent to the old cemetery outside the township. What was it called? Oh, right, Achadh an Anama or Aghananimy. “Must be living with his parents. But why the title though?” Apart from the Adress, that is all he knew about Sergeant Ó Neill. Never met him before as he only got assigned a few hours ago, this will be their first encounter.

My first long story, so please let me know what you guys think. https://www.tumblr.com/dannisakrolite/764419702588080128/davids-gift?source=share