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  1. J'ai un peu des problèmes avec mon copain. Je l'aime plus que tout au monde, hein, ce n'est pas la question. Mais des fois ça peut être difficile avec lui, parce que, et bien il n'est pas très intelligent. Et ce n'est pas une critique, le fait est qu'intellectuellement il est très limité. Pour moi ça fait partie de ses qualités, je suis amoureux fou de mon copain, donc je ne suis pas objectif, avec les yeux de l'amour je ne lui trouve aucun défaut. Son intelligence est différente, mais réelle. Le jour où je l'ai rencontré, dès que je lui ai parlé j'ai senti cette connexion très forte entre nous, et j'ai adoré discuter avec lui. A vrai dire, il ne disait que des mots très simples, et ce n'était pas très cohérent, mais je le comprenais, et j'étais fasciné par tout ce qu'il disait. Je buvais ses paroles, comme on dit. Et il avait l'air content de trouver quelqu'un qui le comprenait, et je l'écoutais avec passion. Il m faisait rire, quelquefois je voyais qu'il avait dit quelque chose pour être drôle, alors je me mettais à rire à gorge déployée, et il reprenait son récit fascinant. Je ne comprenais pas bien ses mots, mais j'adorais parler avec lui, et j'étais tellement content d'avoir la chance d'échanger avec lui, et qu'il apprécie ma compagnie. Je vivais un rêve, j'étais sur un nuage. C'était véritablement formidable d'échanger avec lui, et ses quatre ving douze centimètres de biceps. il s'était rapidement retrouvé isolé dans cette soirée, parce que les gens ne comprenaient pas son génie, du coup j'ai eu la chance de pouvoir me retrouver avec lui et sans cesse il disait des mots, ce qui était absolument fascinant avec mon visage face à ses énormes pecs. Je suis instantanément tombé amoureux de ce mastodonte d'un mètre quatre-vingt dix-huit et deux cent soixante-dix neuf kilos de muscle, et mes efforts pour qu'il m'apprécie ont payé, car nous sommes devenus inséparables. Clairement, ce n'est pas toujours aisé d'être auprès de lui, car il peut avoir ses humeurs, et il ne saisit pas bien le monde qui l'entoure. Il m'a fallu développer des trésors de patience pour pouvoir le gérer au mieux, et ce n'est pas toujours évident avec un colosse qui peut exploser un crâne en claquant des doigts (il chausse su 54, il a des gros doigts) mais mon amour a fini par payer et il s'est vraiment attaché à moi et il me respecte. Évidemment je suis la risée de mon groupe d'amis, l'un d'entre eux l'avait ramené à la soirée où nous nous étions rencontrés dans le seul but de se moquer de lui et le ridiculiser, et ils ont eu tôt fait de voir que j'étais fou amoureux de lui, très vite ils ont estimé que mon attraction envers lui n'était due qu'au fait que ce soit un gigantesque bodybuilder aux muscles surpuissants. Cela fait quatre ans que nous sommes ensemble à présent, et je ne parle plus trop à ce groupe d'amis. Notre liaison est très forte, et c'est pour moi le plus important, je me pas mal suis isolé de ma famille aussi qui ne le tolère pas. Et la société est bizarre, dès que l'on débarque à un endroit, que j'arrive quelque part avec ce monstre de muscles, les gens réagissent bizarrement. Bon, je reconnais que c'est un véritable phénomène, sur le plan physique et musculaire, et j'aime bien l'effet qu'il fait n'importe où où je vais avec lui, et j'adore ça. Donc voilà, c'est l'homme de ma vie, j'aime faire des efforts de chaque instant pour essayer de maintenir son humeur, j'aime être là pour l'écouter ânonner des sylabbes pendant des heures, j'aime financer ses stéroïdes, et tout en général parce que c'est impossible pour lui d'avoir un travail, j'aime tout en lui, je l'aime mon colossal tas de muscles même si on ne fait pas l'amour. Le problème que j'ai dernièrement c'est qu'il est un peu trop protecteur avec moi. Il tient beaucoup à moi, et de plus en plus, et rien ne pourrait me rendre plus heureux, mais ça devient un peu problématique des fois. Il pense que tout est une menace.Il veut être toujours près de moi et me protéger de tout. Un jour, on traversait au feu, et une voiture a freiné un peu tard et débordé quelques centimètres sur le passage piéton. Il a eu peur pour moi, donc il s'est jeté devant la voiture et a frappé du poing sur le capot, il a traversé le moteur et cloué la voiture dans le bitume. Il a peur pour moi quand je suis au travail. Dès qu'il n'est pas à la salle, il vient à mon taf et s'assoit à l'entrée de mon cubicle et lance des regards agressifs à tout le monde. Mais je l'aime plus que tout. L'autre soir on était posés devant la télé, puis il a regardé, et il a dit une vraie phrase, "Tu aimes mes biceps"? C'était émouvant. On s'est regardés avec les yeux plein d'amour et il a levé son bras près de moi, puis il l'a plié pour faire jaillir son biceps en bandaison. Je me suis mis à lécher tout ce que je pouvais de son biceps. " Donne main. Touche gros biceps. Gros gros gros biceps. Oui mouiller biceps.Gros biceps pour toi. Gros muscles. Je t'aime. Moi vouloir plus gros muscles pour plaisir toi. - Oui j'aime tes gros biceps mon amour. J'aime tes énormes gros biceps. - Toi aimer gros biceps - Oui mon amour. - Moi gros biceps pour toi. - Tu es le plus beau mon amour - Touche gros biceps! S'il te plaît, - Mais ils sont trop gros tes biceps mon amour - Gros biceps content - J'adore caresser tes énormes biceps mon cœur - Biceps des fois, gros et mal - Oui, ça doit être compliqué - Mais lever haltères, lever haltères. - Vraiment ? - Oui, oui, gros biceps - Haha tu es merveilleux - Haltères biceps, gentil - C'est vrai? - Gros gros biceps. - C'est génial. Je suis tellement heureux de t'avoir comme ami. - Toi ami le plus. - Oh bravo, bravo. Bravo mon ami - Toi amour moi. - Mais tu as raison. Tu es tellement intelligent, tu as tout compris - Moi intelligent - Tu es parfait. J'ai tellement de chance de t'avoir rencontré. Je t'aime si fort." Il avait relâché la tension de son bras, mais il se mit à rebander son biceps de plus belle. " Toi aime gros biceps ? - Haha tu es le meilleur mon copain, tu es génial. - Toucher gros biceps. - Ce gros biceps, là ? Cet énorme biceps ? - Oui, maintenant. Maintenant. - Tout ce que tu voudras mon pote, tu sais bien que je suis à tes woof... - Oui toucher biceps, toucher biceps... - Bordel de merde, j'ai pourtant l'habitude de toucher ton corps à longueur de journée mais tes gros biceps bandés je ne m'y ferai jamais... - Gros biceps, gros biceps - C'est si dur, si énorme... regarde comme ma main est minuscule sur le sommet de ce biceps - Je t'aime. - Moi aussi je t'aime mon amour, on est pas pédés mais toi et moi c'est merveilleux..." Oui parenthèse, nous ne sommes pas un couple homosexuel. On s'aime très très fort, on habite ensemble, depuis bientôt quatre ans, mais non, pas de ça entre nous. Eric a un peu de mal avec la notion d'homosexualité, de pédalitude plus exactement, c'est pas bien il faut pas. Il peut se fâcher tout rouge si on nous traite de pédés, mais ça n'arrive quasiment jamais. Pourquoi ? on s'en fout un peu mais si vous y tenez : on n'a pas l'attitude, ni lui ni moi, et aussi, il paraît impossible qu'un avion de chasse de compétition comme Eric puisse sortir avec un pauvre gars comme moi. Voilà. C'est dit. "Moi gros muscles, toi gros tête. - Ne te diminue pas mon copain, toute ta vie on a voulu te faire croire que tues un imbécile mais moi je vois en toi, tu es mon soleil, tu m'apprends tellement de choses, chaque moment avec toi me rend plus intelligent et lus sage c'est à toi que je le dois c'est pour ça que je veux toujours être auprès de toi. - Ah ? - Chaque seconde loin de toi est une seconde de perdue.Chaque seconde près de toi me rend meilleur. - Hervé, moi toujours avec toi. Toujours avec toi. - C'est vrai, Eric ? Tu vas rester avec moi tout le temps ? - Oui, Hervé, toi et moi, toujours, tout le temps. Viens. - Oh Eric prends-moi dans tes bras s'il te plaît. Mon grand Eric (oui Eric est bien grand, 1m98 de beau gosse, des porte-avions à la place des pieds, des gants de baseball en guise de mains blindées de cals par le travail de la fonte) mon grand Eric me prend dans ses bras, et me serre très fort contre son torse, et il me dit qu'il m'aime, et une milliseconde comme celle-ci vaut bien une année de conversations approximatives.et de moments d'ennui. Oui, je me suis éloigné de mon entourage et même de ma famille parce qu'ils ne comprenaient pas mon attrait pour Eric, ou alors peut-être qu'ils le comprenaient trop bien au contraire, à l'évidence j'étais sous le charme de ce golgoth au visage ciselé à la perfection et aux yeux d'un bleu intense, lumineux, profond et vide. Mais j'avais réussi à gagner son amour, un amour sincère et entier, comme celui des chiens et des enfants en bas-âge, et c'était pour moi le trésor le plus précieux au monde. - Hervé moi pas amis, pas famille, toi Hervé ami. - Eric je suis heureux et fier d'être ton ami. Eric je t'aime plus que tout au monde. - Hervé, je aime, plus que monde." Et c'est à ce moment là qu'il m'a soulevé, je l'ai vu avoir un moment d’hésitation quand mes yeux étaient à la hauteur des siens, puis il a jeté sa bouche contre la mienne avant de l'envahir avec sa langue pendant plusieurs minutes. Quand il a cessé, il a plongé mes yeux dans les siens à nouveau, et il était en larmes. " Désolé, désolé, désolé... - Désolé de quoi Eric ? Moi je te dis merci Eric. Merci pour ton courage, merci pour ta confiance, merci pour l'amour que tu as pour moi. Alors que je suis un petit rien. - Désolé... Désolé... - Comme ça on sera quittes." Et j'ai plaqué ma main derrière ses trapèzes, et cette fois c'est moi qui ai amené ma bouche contre la sienne pour les faire communier. Au bout d'un temps presque aussi long il me laissa plonger dans se yeux à nouveau, mais cette fois ils étaient souriants. Intérieurement, je n'ai pas pu m'empêcher de penser qu'il était tout de même malheureux que des yeux aussi magnifiques couleur bleu infini soient si... qu'il y manque une petite lueur à l'intérieur. Et à l'évidence, le fait qu'ils soient si grands, profonds et fascinants, rendait son absence d’autant plus remarquable. Une lueur non moins belle vibrait dans ses yeux toutefois, celle de l'amour, celle de l'amour de ce superbe Dieu pour moi. Combien de centaines, de milliers de personnes, avaient été subjuguées par la splendeur de cet homme mais ont été déboutées par sa simplicité ? Ces gens ne peuvent donc pas voir la beauté intérieure ? Ne lui ont pas laissé une chance ? Il est vrai qu'il n'est pas d'un abord facile, rien que moi je l'encourageais à prendre un peu la parole en société, en visite à ma famille, au resto avec des amis, mais chaque fois qu'il ouvrait la bouche, les gloussements et pouffements de rire allaient grandissant. C'est terrible de pénaliser des gens pour leur manque d'intelligence. De ne pas avoir de respect pour leur handicap et ne pas cherche à voir au delà. A l'évidence, je venais de découvrir le seul véritable talent qu'il pouvait démontrer en ouvrant la bouche, et quel talent. C'est la première fois que l'on s'embrassait, pour de vrai, on était très émus, et moi j'étais bouleversé.J'en avais roulé des pelles dans ma vie, certainement plus que lui, mais jamais je n'avais ressenti autant de plaisir. Et de passion. Je n'avais jamais fait ça avec quelqu'un de son gabarit, non plus, une telle caverne buccale, et surtout sa puissante et énorme langue. Nous restâmes un long moment à nous sourire, puis Eric me reposa à terre. Mais un peu plus loin devant lui. Parce que, je parlais de ses proportions, et bien évidemment, mon géant possède également un pénis d'une taille conséquente. J'avais déjà pu l'apercevoir, à quelques reprises, mais de toutes façons, il n'y a pas de pantalon, ni de short, sans parler de maillot de bain, qui puisse ne serait-ce que tenter de dissimuler la taille de la bête, donc, oui, voilà, le très grand monsieur avec plein de testostérone il a une grosse bite. J'avais déjà, aussi, de temps en temps, été témoin de la montée en puissance de l'engin. Quand on se fait un petit câlin dans le canapé devant la télé, quand il me laisse jouer avec ses muscles, quand je lui applique ses crèmes, des fois quand la couverture de son lit est relevée le matin, ce genre de choses. C'était rapidement impressionnant. Enfin c'était déjà impressionnant au départ, mais manifestement, la prise d'ampleur de la chose laissait supposer un potentiel assez remarquable. Donc une fois sur le sol je fus confronté au spectacle de son chibre en pleine lutte, fermement décidé à faire exploser le short de mon homme, et c'est à ce moment que je pris pleinement conscience des dimensions que sa verge pouvait atteindre en érection, elle ne devait pas être bien loin de son expansion optimale, bien que le short en jean l'empêchait de s'ériger pleinement et la maintenait à une distance raisonnable de son bassin. Putain quel homme. J'avais l'impression de voir une veine battre à travers la toile. Je n'étais pas sûr qu'il ait réellement conscience de ce qui était en train de se produire en deçà de la prodigieuse opulence de son poitrail. " Ca va ?" je lui dis. " J'ai mal au zizi." Ce qui répond à mes deux questions. " Pense à une femme, ça ira mieux. - Femme ? - N'importe laquelle." Et, effectivement, ça allait mieux quelque temps après. Eric avait l'air soucieux. " Eric, tu penses quoi. - ... - Dis-moi Eric. - Toi, moi, pédales. - Non. -... homosessuels. - Arrête, quel besoin de dire ça. Je t'aime plus que tout au monde, tu m'aimes plus que tout au monde, on partage tout, il n'y a pas de mal à se faire du bien. -... - Et ça ne regarde que nous. Personne n'a besoin de savoir." Dix minutes après, on était sur la route de la plage, il semblait avoir tout oublié.Il faisait éclater son sourire au soleil impatient de se mettre torse nu, en slip, de sentir les rayons du soleil sur son corps majestueux, et les regards de la foule alentour. Moi, j'étais surtout impatient de pouvoir enduire son corps d'huile, en me délectant à mon tour de ces regards derrière mes lunettes de soleil, cherchant ceux qui enragent d'envie le plus, se bavent dessus, se désagrègent en voyant la chance incroyable qui est la mienne. Deux fois un gars, et une fois une meuf sont venus demander s'il y avait moyen de prendre le relais et finir d'étaler l'huile. Eric réagit assez agressivement dans ces cas là.Il est un peu parano avec ce qui vient de l'extérieur et il ne fait pas dans la dentelle pour envoyer chier les gens. Par rapport à ce que je disais tout à l'heure, clairement sur la plage on avait tout d'un couple gay. Le badigeonner, batifoler dans l'eau avec lui, le sécher, ce n'était pas rare même qu'il me tienne par la main ou qu'il ait un bras sur mes épaules alors que nous repartions. Bizarrement, personne ne nous a jamais fait de réflexion homophobe à la plage. Ma théorie est que, il peut y en avoir des grandes gueules dans les stations essence et les files de caisse au supermarché, mais bizarrement, personne n'avait envie de venir nous insulter quand Eric quasiment nu exhibe sa surpuissante musculature dans toute sa gloire, personne n'ose approcher le colosse bardé de gigantesques muscles hypertrophiés à l’extrême qui débordent de partout. Une fois un trou du cul a voulu nous emmerder, je ne sais plus pourquoi, ils avait reçu de l'eau je crois. Oui c'est ça, le gars faisait un pique nique à côté avec sa femme et ses gosses, il regardait Eric de travers depuis qu'on était arrivés - si le gars voulait se prendre pour un alpha, c'est clair qu'avec deux cent kilos de testostérone à côté c'était pas gagné - et quand Eric est revenu de sa baignade il s'est ébroué, il avait ses cheveux blonds mi-long à cette époque, donc le gars se plaignait d'avoir été mouillé. Eric s'est avancé vers lui. Il s'est penché pour ramasser une pastèque qu'ils avaient posé pour leur pique-nique, d'une seule main, parce que comme je disais Eric il a des putain de paluches, et il a refermé sa main, et la pastèque a explosé en mille morceaux, il est allé s'allonger sur notre serviette, et le gars a remballé ses affaires et sa marmaille et ils se sont barrés. Il était arrivé un autre truc aussi, ça je ne l'ai jamais raconté à Eric, c'était en partant, sur le parking, un type bien sapé m'a accosté discrètement, et m'a demandé combien mon bodybuilder coûtait à la location, ce qu'il faisait ou pas, etc. Le bonheur de lui dire "Non, non, c'est mon copain. On est en couple tous les deux." Cette tête qu'il a fait. Il était sur le cul. Il n'y croyait pas. Et Eric à la voiture m'a appelé. "Hervé! J'ai faim!" et j'ai laisse l'autre sur deux ronds de flan an allant retrouver mon homme. On est rentré, on s'est posé, je lui ai fait à manger, je l'ai servi, il était content, il est passé à la cave soulever de la fonte une petite heure, je l'ai aidé à faire ses injections du soir, et on s'est posé dans le canapé mater une connerie. Eric était tout contre moi, comme d'habitude, mais je le trouvais un peu plus câlin qu'à l'accoutumée. Et plus la soirée avançait, plus il l'était. Je nous ai servi un petit fond d'armagnac, puis deux, puis trois. Eric ne boit jamais normalement, mais là il s'est laissé faire. Forcément, il était très vite bourré. Et il a commencé à me faire des petits bisous dans le cou. Je n'ai pas poussé au vice, mais je l'ai laissé faire, et quand il a commencé à piquer du nez, j'ai coupé la télé pour qu'on aille se coucher. Il était bien sonné le Eric. Et au moment de se coucher, il me " Hervé. - Oui Eric. - Je t'aime. - Moi aussi je t'aime Eric, je t'aime de tout mon cœur. - Oui, très très fort. - Tu as passé une bonne journée mon Eric? - Oui Hervé, merci Hervé. - Merci à toi Eric, j'ai passé une journée formidable, parce que c'était une journée avec toi mon amour. - Hervé, viens s'il te plaît. - Mais je suis là. - Hervé, debout, viens s'il te plaît." Je me lève, et j'admire la débauche de muscle étalée sur ce lit, ses grands pieds qui dépassent, et je vois dans son regard, briller une teinte de bleu inhabituelle. "Viens Hervé. - Quoi Eric, tu veux que je vienne dans ton lit ? - S'il te plaît Hervé. - Mais je ne sais pas s'il y a assez de place pour nous deux. - Viens, dessus." Je mis un genou sur son matelas, essayai de m'allonger sur le bord, et il me prit dans ses bras pour me serrer contre lui. C'était bon. C'était chaud. C'était tendre. J'adore son odeur. Il me serre plus fort. Je sens son cœur battre. Je me sens bête de l'avoir fait boire. " Mon Eric que j'aime, on va dormir maintenant? - Non. - Et pourquoi ? - J'ai mal au zizi."
  2. qwer47

    no sex Alex Films the Pump Room

    Alex pulled his Toyota Tacoma in the convention center parking lot, stepped out, and began unloading his equipment. It was a grey Ohio day, and the parking lot was filling with cars and people walking into the venue. Alex was a professional videographer, and had been working his trade long enough to be efficient in his routine. With his video camera and spare batteries in his hands, he followed the throng towards the banner reading 2019 ARNOLD SPORTS FESTIVAL. Today was the day of the IFBB contest, and he was here working for exclusive video company covering the bodybuilding event. As he entered the building, activity was all around him as people chatted, took care of paperwork, and snapped photos. Alex had covered this event many times before, and so some faces were familiar to him. Most of the contestants were acquainted with him, but in a setting like this they tended to stay focused on their task at hand rather than socializing. On the other side of the entrance hall he saw Will Bonac, who saw him as well and waved a greeting. After signing in with his credentials, Alex shot a few minutes of the big guys signing in, and then headed towards the designated pump room. Pump room videos were always the company's best selling, and Alex always worked hardest on them. In this venue the pump room was behind the stage, a giant open area with curtains hanging from the wall for privacy, and folding chairs and weight racks spaced around the room. As soon as he entered, he saw Roelly Winklaar stripping off his T-shirt. Alex immediately began recording, standing just a couple feet away, Roelly smiled and nodded, then pulled down his gym shorts and stood in only a pair of boxer briefs. He picked up two of the 60 pound dumbbells and began curling. Alex angled the camera low to capture a view looking up at the mass monster, already beginning to sweat with exertion. Veins bulged on Roelly's unbelievably thick arms. He grunted with effort, and after a few minutes switched to pumping his pecs using a friend to provide resistance. Each rep caused his massive, full, round pecs to balloon. Alex caught every frame. Nearby, Akim Williams was already completely naked. Akim was well known for the size of his chest, and in fact Alex had produced several hours of Akim's chest workout. However, Akim was also known for the size of his penis, and today it was hanging out in full glory. Akim was pumping his pecs by doing pushups against the back of a chair, and his huge member was swinging back and forth with each rep up and down. After the set, Akim turned towards Alex's camera, showing the enormous fullness his pecs. Alex took a slow pan from Akim's face, down his heaving torso and cobblestone abs, and past his long, thick cock hanging between his tree-trunk quads. For the next hour, Alex moved among the competitors. All of them were naked, jacked to the absolute maximum, and purely bent on displaying their roided masculinity in full force. Mikhail Volinkin did sets of lunges, his massive cock touching the floor at the bottom of every rep. Brandon Williams did a full practice of his posing routine, flexing his champion physique through all the mandatories, fully nude. Each time he turned, his penis swung around and slapped his gargantuan quads, making a loud smacking noise. He was clearly the bodybuilder who had grown the most in the last year. Alex caught his entire oiling routine with a close up shot as his coach smeared oil onto his beefy torso and then rubbed it in energetic circles, causing the slabs of muscle to ripple and bounce. The coach got to his knees and oiled Brandon's lower body as well, using generous amounts of oil to cover the striated quads. Finally, the coach put oil on his hands and began to rub it into Brandon's enormous testicles and thick, flaccid penis. Brandon's cock twitched and swelled slightly under the stimulation, which caused him to look into Alex's lens, wink, and give the thumbs up. Finally, the main event drew near. A stage manager called out for the men to line up, and Alex pulled away to get a long shot of all the men at once. Still fully nude, their large, heavy nutsacks and their enormous, free-swinging cocks beautifully complemented their world-class, steroided bull-muscle glistening with oil. Alex smiled as he noticed the Steve Kuclo, midway down the line, had teased himself into a full erection. Most men went onto the stage with their cocks soft or semi-hard, and let the fervor of the crowd and their own passion for muscle drive them into a frenzy, causing their dicks to lengthen and harden until they were rock-solid hard at the end of the routine, but Steve always preferred to hit the stage already hard and, at some contests, even appeared to be drooling precum. Alex filmed one final pass of the lineup and then, as the booming music from the auditorium swelled, turned and headed into the main event.
  3. geektofreek

    no sex A Conversation with my Son

    I don’t usually like to talk about these sort of things. Personal problems and such. But my son, Aidan.... He’s just growing so out of control! You would think at nineteen-years old he would have stopped or slowed down a little. But no, not him. It’s almost as if his growth just keeps on increasing. Taller, wider, bigger. This never ending factory of testosterone! Especially his muscles. 270-pounds now. I’ve honestly never felt so small and inferior around another man before! “M-“Maybe it’s time you get a girlfriend or something, Aidan...“ I couldn’t help but stutter one night. Right at the dinner table. Watching him obsessively flex between each few bites. So in love with own increasing prowess. His own muscles. He could barley take his eyes off himself. “Meh...” Aidan, grunted in response. Finishing off every last bit of meat. *BURRRPPP “No ones really captivated my attention...” He continued. Giving his mammoth muscle arm a couple of pumps next. 24-inches of hulking teenage bicep. Seeming not even the slightest bit interested in the conversation. No girls. Not even guys. I honestly wouldn’t have cared if he was gay. But it was always just about his muscles. Nothing more. “Plus, I honestly just want to focus on getting bigger...” Aidan, stated like always. Pumping the Everest-sized peak of freaky bicep, right up against his face. Staring at it obsessively. “Bigger?” I stuttered. Actually dropping my fork to the floor. And yet the topic of conversation held me completely captivated. With my curosity finally at a tipping point. I just had to know... How big did my son want to grow? “Well, like... How much bigger...?” So I finally just had to ask. Seeing a bit of surprise in his face. The big wheels in his small head, slowly began to turn. With his face even turning a little red. It was almost as if he was embarrassed to admit. “It’s ok, son... We’re all friends here.” I tried to comfort him. But even my own curiosity wasn’t prepared for the magnitude of my sons muscle lust. “I don’t know, Dad...” Aidan, finally spoke up. “I’ve honestly been having the craziest dreams...” He continued. Already making me gulp. Watching him bring down one his arms. Adjusting himself in his seat. Pulling and tugging at his skintight bulging gym shorts. “Muscle growth dreams, I guess you could say...” He even bit his lips a bit. “Muscle growth dreams?” I questioned. “Yeah, Dad...” Aidan, gulped a bit. “Except sometimes, well... I don’t ever stop growing!” He shockingly continued. “Bigger, and bigger, and BIGGER!” Groaning with this insatiable lust. Cringing the words through his teeth. “J-Jesus, Aidan...” Leaving me to stutter in even more disbelief. Especially as I watched his huge nipples began to harden up. Adjusting himself so much in his chair, it began to creak and crack. Almost as if he was getting horned up. “400... 500-POUNDS of muscle!!” Aidan, unexpectedly snarled. This untamed beastly muscle lust. Suddenly flexing into a most muscular pose. blowing his tank-top apart like paper. Right at the diner table. *RIIIIPPPP* “F-FUCK!!” Making me squeal like some school girl. Shrink into my chair. Suddenly overshadowed by these two absolutely monstrous blimps of muscle-breast. Pecs bigger then watermelons. Twice as hairy as my own. “But you’re already so big, son...” I blubbered in confusion. Feeling as if I had opened up the biggest can of worms. And yet he was nowhere near finished describing his fantasy. “More... and more... AND MORE!” He shamelessly continued. “800-pounds... 900-POUNDS! Urrghhh!” Aidan, really groaned. Grossly bucking his hips, his huge dick, a couple times against the underside of the table. “1000-pounds...” Aidan, shuttered. Whimpered. As if that was the ultimate number. This big ungodly muscle goal. “Unnghh... I’m so sorry, Dad...” Aidan, cringed. looking down at his foot-long boner. Actually lifting the table off the floor. Trying to stop himself. Control himself. “The big pussy crusher”, I heard his friends once refer to it as. “I just get so excited...” Aidan, admitted. Rubbing his gigantic shirtless muscle chest. Flicking his huge rock hard muscle nips. Even though he was embarrassed. But then again, this wasn’t the first time this had happened. Seeing my son uncontrollably horned up was becoming an increasingly awkward event. Usually occurring after a heavy workout. But never so randomly like this. “It o-ok, Son...” I tried to be supportive. “That’s quite the hungry appetite you got there...” I stated admiringly. With his cock still raging out of control. Sliding the dishes slowly towards me. My unsatisfied curiosity drove my ignorance to whole new playing field. “Is it even possible for someone to grow that size!?” I don’t know why I asked. Obviously it wasn’t possible. And yet I just couldn’t seem to stop myself from feeding back into my sons insane fantasies. “I don’t know if it’s possible, Dad... but I want it SO BAD!” Aidan, groaned with unbearable lust. Cringing and biting his teeth helplessly. With his cock suddenly throbbing, raging, what appeared to be a whole inch bigger. I thought he was going to cum! Remembering all those times I had to change his sheets the past couple months. All the wet dreams he was having... Were they really all just about him growing!? “Jees, son... At that size, you’d be squatting semi-trucks.” I chuckled jokingly... *RIIIPPPPP* “SEMI-TRUCKS!? Unnnghh, DAD!!!” Aidan, roared with embarrassment. As he finally cummed uncontrollably. “My LEGS would have to be ENORMOUS!!” He roared with wonder. As if I exploded his imagination. Watching his gym shorts actually blow apart. With his huge horse crushing cock emerging. Engorging to a whole new level of monstrosity. Gushing like a fire hydrant. So much cum I didn’t even think it was possible! Rope after rope of thick warm semen all over the chair, the table, his feet... his gigantic ape-sized hairy muscle legs. “YOU shouldn’t SAY such things, DAD!!!” Aidan, had totally lost it. Groaning in totally agony. A big rumbling pleasure explosion. Tilting his neck back helplessly. What a fucking beast. With his eyes closed in cringing embarrassment. I shamelessly peeked underneath the table... “Oh god...” I weeped even more. How was this my own creation? My own flesh and blood? My own son? Never seeing a cock so big in my life... Not even in the wildest of pornos! And he just couldn’t stop cumming. Leaking so much man-juice all over the floor. Even his shoes. Draining his big bull-sized testicles down to the very last drop. Like he hadn’t had released himself in months. Rumbling our tiny house as he helplessly bucked his huge car crushing muscle butt. “Dad... Please...” Aidan, choked up a bit. Knowing I must have been caught. “Please don’t look...” He even begged me a bit. I didn’t know how else to respond. Raising my head up. Seeing him still panting with his tongue sticking out. His face stuffed around nothing but muscle. Suffocated by his traps and pecs. Drooling helplessly down his colossal hairy chest. “I swear, I’m not gay!!” Aidan, unexpectedly continued. Looking beyond perplexed. “I just really... REALLY like MUSCLE!” He shuttered a bit more. Shooting out one last throat choking load. All his muscles bulging, tensing. “Jesus fuck, son...” Was all I could seem to say. “I guess I better start buying you more chickens then...”
  4. Hialmar

    no sex Hypermarines

    Preface My usual sort of stuff. Nothing particularly original, but I want to share it with those of you who share my particular taste. Hypermarines He was sitting with the others in the waiting-room, if that was the proper word for it. Cubbyhole would have been more suitable. One bench each against two of the walls, a closed entrance and a closed exit in the other two walls, that's all, so he and the other recruits were sitting fairly close to each other, like they did during transport: the knees of four of them not far from the knees of the other four. The olive-green t-shirt hung in a rather loose-fitting way on him – on most of them, actually. The recruiter had tried to say something about the desirability of a process enhancing Ectos, thus increasing the usefulness of The Procedure, but he hadn't listened particularly attentively. The possibility – but not a guarantee, oh no, not a guarantee: that had been emphasized several times, both from mouth to ear and by the clauses, full of dread-instilling legal English, in the Form they had had to sign. ... -The possibility of physical improvement beyond the limits, he had faced in the gym, attracted him to The Project, the enticing allure causing at least 50% of the information to be lost on him. He began to feel warm in his olive-green loose-fitting t-shirt, and the fabric was slightly moist of his sweat. The serums and compounds ... Circulating inside him now. Too late, if he had changed his mind, but he hadn't. The serums and chemical compounds, the weeks building up for today's Procedure, the IVs and the injections – the sum effect of them all must be behind this heat, his beading sweat inside the t-shirt. Williams and West sat on each side of him. Williams' t-shirt wasn't loose-fitting: Williams' stout, short, wide and overweight shape was the reason why the recruiters had picked him: The Agency was eager to know the effect of The Procedure on Endos, too. West's t-shirt wasn't loose-fitting either: The sight of West's chestnut-coloured beefy pecs and chiseled abs in the common shower had caused some of the other recruits to feel inadequate and uncomfortable, badly disguised under friendly banter. In the beginning, he had worried about the risk of too much competitiveness among his fellow recruits, but they had early on agreed, that they had to cooperate in order to make the best out of this opportunity. West was allright. So was Williams, who'd got the nickname Tank from the other recruits. He felt fond of Williams and West and the five others: Brothers in arms. Sharing all these experiences with each other. Reliable lads in a situation. Good men. Invisible ties binding them together, and today, and after today, the shared experience of ... of what would happen next. Happen soon. He touched the unfamiliar and slightly unsettling presence of the little metallic shunt valve and the electronic port, both of them in the nape of his neck. Unfamiliar. Unsettling. Why would they need those two? Best not bother. They were needed for The Procedure. The cubbyhole full of the scent of moth-repellant rising from their wide camo-trousers. The cubbyhole full of the scent of the scent of shoe polish ... their glossy army boots ... a few sizes too large army boots, for some reason. The cubbyhole full of the scent of male sweat. Sweat after workouts. Worried sweat. Expectant sweat. Excited sweat. Some scent of pre-cum, too. Who would think about girls now, in a situation like this? Perhaps not thoughts about girls. Perhaps the effect of the serum. The compounds. Inside them. Already causing them to change. Already begun. Already increasing their amounts of Testo and other hormones he hadn't heard about before, and didn't bother to remember. Increasing. He could feel his dick awake. Despite some lingering fear and second thoughts, the expectation on The Procedure – if it was as good as the recruiters had said – spread arousal in his body. Not the same body as three weeks ago. Three weeks of bootcamp had sky-rocketed his stamina. He wasn't probably much beefier now, strictly speaking, than three weeks ago, but his strength had improved surprisingly fast, his remaining fat had burned away, and his stamina ... He shuddered in delight. He hadn't undergone The Procedure, yet, but his stamina was already beyond his old imagination. Moth-repellants. Shoe polish. Dogtags. Wide camo-trousers. Necks of his army boots snugly pressed around his ankles. Sweat. Brothers in arms. Pre-cum. Because they were primed. Primed for The Procedure. Primed for enhancement. Primed for becoming ... becoming ... Williams and West so close to him on each side. Brothers. Together ... The exit door into the Test Chamber opened by someone in a hazmat suit, waving to them, inviting them into the Test Chamber. He hadn't seen it before. Only heard about it at the briefing. They were deep under the surface. Granite rock walls. Floor coated in concrete. There were contrapments: Metal structures, cables insulated in rubber, hoses in different shapes and materials. The men in the hazmat suits began to place every recruit in his respective station. He laid down on a metal bench coated with black rubber and a removable paper blanket. There was a foot-plate at the foot end of the bench, and one of the hazmat guys moved the bench, so that he half-stood, half-rested on the bench at an angle of about 45°. They locked sockets around his hands, and sturdy cables ran from his two sockets to some equipment in the granite wall, together with cables leading to the other recruits' sockets. He had noticed a rectangular hole in his bench where his head was supposed to rest, and he could now feel the hazmat guys connect something to his electronic port and his shunt valve. Unfamiliar. Unsettling. Connected to the equipment in four ways now. Trapped. Second-thoughts? Second-thoughts. Hazmat guys opening two or three buttons of his fly, without opening the upper button or his belt. Pulling his dick out. A hose surrounding his dick. Connected to the equipment in five ways now. Trapped. Fluttering in his stomach. Too late for regret now. Too deep into The Project. The serum. Inside him. The compounds. Inside him. Already causing him to change. Already begun. Already increasing his amounts of Testo and other hormones. Because he was primed. Primed for The Procedure. Primed for enhancement. Primed for becoming ... becoming ... The light faded slightly. The hazmat guys had already left. Lead-coated armoured doors sunk hydraulically over the entrance of the recruits and the exit of the guys in hazmat suits. They were abandoned now. Isolated from the rest of the world. Probably observed – nay, certainly observed – from somewhere else by observers, for whom they were not individuals, just anonymous test subjects, expendable specimens for the sake of science or defence. He was connected to The Machine now, they all were. Each of them were connected in the same way – one silvery hose, one black rubbery hose, two thick cables and a thin wire all leading to each test subject, each specimen, each recruit. There was nothing they could do now, just wait for The Procedure. Trapped. Fluttering in his stomach. Too late for regret now. Too deep into The Project. The serum. Inside them. The compounds. Inside them. Already causing them to change. Already begun. Already increasing their amounts of Testo and other hormones. Because they were primed. Primed for The Procedure. Primed for enhancement. Primed for becoming ... becoming ... CONTACT! When his brain connected to The Machine he startled. Being handled as a piece of meat on the slab, as the hazmat-clad men had connected his body to The Machine earlier, had been intrusive enough, but he had managed, because he had signed up to The Project. When his brain connected to The Machine, the level of intrusiveness multiplied. SOMETHING was doing SOMETHING to his mind, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Sweat trickled from his brow and under his olive-green t-shirt. The remaining light in the room took on a beige hue. His ears were buzzing and tinkling. Far, far away, he could hear the voices of two or three young men groan in pain, and far, far away, he could hear the sound of gushing liquid, and the back of his head felt strangely wet, and yet not wet. He could feel a strange pressure build in the back of his head, inside his spine and in his blood vessels. His hands were locked into the sockets, and he was unable to touch the nape of his neck. Dizzy. SOMETHING was doing SOMETHING to his mind. Buzzing and tinkling. His awareness tumbling into the buzzing and tinkling. The room fading away. Fading into light. Dizzy, but feeling better. Better and comfortably warm. Feeling present inside himself. Inside Recruit Number Five. Yeah. That's him: The improving Recruit Number Five. No regret left now. Too deep into The Project. The serum. Inside him. The compounds. Inside him. The added Anabolic Formula. Inside him. Already causing him to change. Already begun. Already increasing his amounts of Testo and other hormones. Because he had been primed. Primed for The Procedure. Primed for enhancement. Primed for becoming ... becoming ... The power streaming through him. Into him from his hands, from the sockets. Power sockets. Connected to The Machine. Part man. Part Machine. Connected. Power into him. Streaming. Through him. Through his body. Through his growing, hardening muscles. Felt good. So good. Growing, hardening muscles. Muscle-stimulating power. Uh! Yes! Reacting. The content in his blood vessels and muscles reacting to the Power streaming into him, streaming through him. The serum reacting to the Power. Inside him. The compounds reacting to the Power. Inside him. The added Anabolic Formula reacting to the Power. Inside him. Causing him to change. Already begun. Increasing his amounts of Testo and other hormones. Because he had been primed. Primed for The Procedure. Primed for enhancement. Primed for becoming ... becoming ... Yeah. Recruit Number Five. Heat. Good heat. His body. Serum in his body. Compund in his body. Formula in his body. Power-stream in his body. Warm. Felt good. Felt stronger. His upper arms swole, rubbing against his lats. Wider back. Deeper chest. Dogtags in pec ravine. YEAH! Pec ravine! Harder abs. Harder. Warmer. More present. Physically present. Heavily present. Wide legs inside his camo-trousers. Quads. Hamstrings. Calves. Necks of his glossy army boots snugly pressed around his ankles. Recruit Number Five! Big, obedient, patriotic grunt! Yeah! He loved to be Recruit Number Five. To please superior officers. To use his INCREASED strength and ENHANCED prowess together with his brothers in arms. For the sake of his brothers in arms. To prove himself. To feel ... to feel ... this feeling of ultra-masculinity in his entire body. Entire body. Entire mind. Well-programmed test subject. Eager to be well-programmed. Eager to become enhanced. Eager to improve. Eager to increase in MUSCLE MASS. Yeah! His brothers in arms also adapted to The Procedure. Williams had been wide. He was still wide. He was wider. But his belly was melting away, and was replaced by a parapet of uncrushable well-defined abs. Williams was taller, but still wider than tall. He had been called Tank before. Now he WAS Tank. Becoming Recruit Number Four. West's already handsome physique had become brawnier. Also taller, and his eyes were turned upwards in his eyesockets as he experienced the anabolic bliss of The Procedure. Becoming Recruit Number Six. The other Ectos ... Ectos no more ... Y-shaped and chiseled giants with powerful chins reclined at their 45° metal benches, writhing in pleasure as they eagerly accepted their mental and physical reprogramming. YEAH! Mental and physical reprogramming!!! They were turning into good recruits, in the blue-tinted light. They were all turning into good recruits, under the impact of the POWER. The fabric of their olive-green t-shirts struggled to keep their bulging muscles inside, and he could feel his own t-shirt cling moistly and slightly uncomfortably tight around his powerful muscles. It was just a matter of seconds. His t-shirt and the others' t-shirts began to give in at the seams, and ripping sounds soon echoed in the granite chamber, while men moaned, equipment hummed unrelentingly, and additional amounts of the Anabolic Formula were pumped into their systems. Forced into them. Forcing them to ... YES! Additional amounts of the Anabolic Formula! More! Recruit Number Five needed more! And, as if it had read his mind, The Machine increased the amounts of Anabolic Formula and the energy level of the growth-inducing humming Power. The gushing sound. The louder humming. Buildup of Power inside him, inside them. The sensation of growing further: Bigger! Taller! Wider! Harder! Chiselled! Unstoppable! Men, who were more than men, were part Machine. Men, stimulated into unfathomable and insane levels of ultra-masculinity, began to bellow in a mix of pain, aggression and extreme aroused pleasure, as they crossed the threshold to titanhood. The scent of male sweat. Expectant sweat. Excited sweat. Sweat-beads on exposed, hard beefy chests in the blue transformative light. Blue transformative light. Forming such flattering shadows on their chests and abdomens. Flattering shadows tracing the shapes of their orange-sized abs, their medicine-ball-sized pecs (where their dogtags dangled) and their bowlingball-sized shoulders. The scent of shoe-polish from glossy army boots, now of the desired size. The scent of moth-repellants. Once wide camo-trousers, now clinging to the expanding granite-pillars, that now were their legs. Yes! His Quads. Growing bigger and harder. His Hamstrings. Growing bigger and harder. His Calves. Growing bigger and harder. Quads and hamstrings pushing his legs apart ... apart, forcing him to adjust his stance. Bootclad legs ... wider apart! Confident stance. Asserting stance. Mass-monster-stance. The feeling of having steel-hard muscles. Steel-hard muscles everywhere. Ready to spring into violent action for King and Country! Recruit Number Five loved his transformation, and he knew, that his brothers in arms loved their's, too. They were abandoned now. Isolated from the rest of the world. Different from all other men. They had become more. More than the hazmat guys. More than ordinary men. More than ordinary infantry, or Marines or Seals. More than ultra-masculine men. Sharing all these experiences with each other. Reliable lads in a situation. Good men. Invisible ties binding them together, today, and after today. Writhing in pleasure as they eagerly accepted their mental and physical reprogramming. Moaning and bellowing. The dry scent of power-emissions. Muscle-stimulating power. The dry scent of ever INCREASING power-emissions. INCREASING muscle-stimulating power. Wide legs inside his camo-trousers... Bulging chest... His biceps... so fucking hard, huge biceps... Bullneck... Oh, fuck! So much! Almost too much! More! He... Harder. Warmer. More present. Physically present. Even bigger! Taller! Even wider! Harder! Chiselled! Yes! Huge! Becoming ... Uh! ... HUGE! Together. HUGE TOGETHER. His brothers in arms. All the Recruits. Recruits together. Growing together. Transforming together. Crossing all limits together. The serum. Inside them. Reacting to INCREASED POWER! The compounds. Inside them. Reacting to INCREASED POWER! Increasing dose of Anabolic Formula. Reacting to ... Uh! Oh, fuck! Reacting to... INCREASED POWER! Causing them to change into... Increasing their amounts of Testo and other hormones to MAXIMUM. Because they had been primed. Primed for The Procedure. Primed for enhancement. Primed for becoming ... becoming ... Oh, fuck! Couldn't believe... Yeah! Obedient patriotic Recruit love to grow! MAXIMUM level! Oh, fuck! So much! Almost too much! More! He... Harder. Titanium Titan! The pleasure! It... MY BRAWN! LOOK AT MY BULGIN' BRAWN! Enticing allure. Male sweat. Expectant sweat. Excited sweat. Pre-cum. So good! Couldn't... The serum. Inside them. Reacting to MAXIMUM POWER! The compounds. Inside them. Reacting to MAXIMUM POWER! Supreme dose of Anabolic Formula. Reacting to MAXIMUM POWER! Reacting to... MAXIMUM POWER! Causing them to change into... Increasing their amounts of Testo and other hormones to MAXIMUM. Because they had been primed. Primed for The Procedure. Primed for enhancement. Primed to become ... become ... Become ... Become ... HYPERMARINES
  5. sithspawn

    no sex Vlogger

    Welcome to the channel What’s going on everyone it’s your boy Clarky379 here...God that sounds lame with my accent. Ok let’s try again. Hi guys and welcome to the vi… Oh yeah and girls…if they’re watching...hi guys and girls…gah! That sounds even worse. I didn’t realise it’d be so difficult to start this off. Right…anyway…screw it. Welcome to my first video and I guess welcome to the channel. As you can tell by that terrible intro I’m not really into multiple takes or editing so this is going to be pretty raw and probably include a lot of rambling. There’s a good reason for that though and it’s because I don’t want anyone to think I’m doing any video wizardry or anything like that to trick you all. I might have to do a bit of editing if I need to stop filming and start again for some reason, but hopefully that won’t happen. I’ll probably end up repeating myself quite a bit and there may even be some swearing so if that offends you then I apologise in advance, but like I said, I don’t want to go back and edit anything unless it’s something that might get the video taken down, like one of my testicles coming into shot or something like that. Um…not that I’m planning on any nudity being in this so I have no idea why that example came into my head; but you get the picture. Right so; let’s get things started shall we? Ok, so first things first my name isn’t Clark, like, Clark doesn’t appear in my real name at all; not first name, middle name or surname, I just picked it for…I dunno really, I just kinda like it. And the numbers don’t mean anything either, I just picked them out at random and luckily no one else had that username. I’m not going to be saying much about my real life as I think things might get complicated later on if I do. Having said that, I will point out that I’m over eighteen, whether that’s by one day or a few years I’m not going to say, I’ll leave you all to speculate on that. I don’t have any family to speak of so I’m just kinda bumbling around the UK at the moment like a feather in the wind. I have no real plan of where I’m going or what I’m doing; I’m just kinda going with the flow. So why am I making this video then? And why am I in a forest in the middle of nowhere? Well I’m glad you asked, or at least I hope you did. I don’t even know if anyone’s gonna watch this thing but whatever. So the reason for all this is because things have gone a little weird with me lately. I dunno what actually happened but a while ago I got this weird feeling one night like…I dunno…a kind of energy surge or something like that. You know like when you get an adrenaline rush? Only it hasn’t really stopped since then. It just feels like my body’s about to go through some weird change so I thought if it does then it might be worth documenting it. I don’t mean a change like puberty or anything like that, obviously that’s been and gone, but this feels like…I dunno…like I feel stronger, but for no reason. I mean look at me, I’m not exactly a fit guy or anything like that. I’ve tried working out in the past but I just get bored and my mind starts to wander. The only reason I’m as slim as I am is because I walk a lot and eat right. Well ok, that’s not technically true, I eat unhealthy crap but it doesn’t seem to affect me so I’m not going to complain. Speaking of eating though. I don’t feel like I’ve been eating or even drinking as much as I used to lately. It’s like I’m only eating when I feel I should be and even then I’m going for stuff I like the taste of rather than thinking about what will fill me up. Like I might just have a chocolate bar and that’ll last me for hours. Maybe I’ll try and see how long I can last in a day without eating. If I don’t post any videos after that you’ll know it was a stupid idea and I starved to death in a forest somewhere. Oh yeah, that brings me back to the earlier question, why am I in a forest? Well to be honest I want to get away from people when I’m making these videos, because if something really weird is going on with my body I don’t want loads of people around asking questions about it. What could be going on I hear you ask, well that’s just the thing, I don’t know. But like I said, it just feels like there’s this huge surge of energy and I almost feel like I’m getting stronger. If that’s the case then it might be safer to test it out here rather than in a town or city where people will be in the way all the time. I know I keep saying I feel like I’m getting stronger but it’s the only way I can really explain it. It’s just…I dunno…like there’s a fire in all my muscles, like, you know how you get that pumped feeling when you’ve worked out? It’s like that, but it’s all the time. As far as I know I haven’t gotten any stronger, I mean…let’s have a look round here…ah ok, hold on a sec, there’s a nice big boulder over there, lemme put this down and try something. Well ok that didn’t work. I thought I might be able to move it or something but obviously not. At least all you lucky people got to watch me struggle and look like an idiot. There’s been other things as well, like yesterday I tripped over onnannun…blah!! Yeah I tripped over my pissing words there. Dickhead. What I was trying to say was on...an...uneven path. Christ that was a mouthful, anyway, my arm whacked into the floor on that path and it didn’t hurt, and look, no bruising or anything. It might not seem like much but I definitely think there should be something there. I dunno, maybe I’m being stupid and seeing stuff that isn’t there but who knows. I just wanted to do this video as an introduction in case something weird is going on but if not then there probably won’t be any more videos, and this will get lost in the shuffle online somewhere. Anyway, hit that like and subscribe button…I dunno why but that’s what all the other vloggers say, so yeah, do that and maybe even leave some comments. Catch you later peeps. Oh Christ that was lame as f…
  6. Mickyh29

    no sex Worshipping my younger bro! Pt1

    I’m going to start this off with a simple question! Is it ok for a 23yr old Male to worship his super fit hot 18yr old younger brother?? Depending on what side of the sexual orientation spectrum you fall on will no doubt point you in the direction of your answer. Its blatantly obvious that I’m coming from this from a gay older bro view. I should point out that my hot younger bro obviously knows I’m gay, as does the whole family, and, as I’ll explain later, it was he who loosely came up with the idea of the whole worship thing. So who is my hot younger bro and what does he look like.............. Well this is Ellis.......... I think from looking at those pics you can see that I dont use the words hot and fit likely!l! Check out those plump pecs and bi peaks for starters! Who wouldn’t want to worship that? He has some pretty good strength to go with that hotness, recently benching 150kg and squatting 180kg, all at a bodyweight of only 78kg and I'll repeat only 18! Ellis has always been sporty ever since he was In junior school, loved his Friday sports lesson in the school hall. In senior school he excelled in PE, made the schools football team and a year in the rugby team. The school had a pretty good gym with plenty of weights and machines and that’s where his love for working out really started. When Ellis went to college at 16 he took up sports as his topic of education, got his gym membership and has never really looked back since, hammering away at the gym every day building his body to the level of hotness it is now. So how did this whole “ me worshipping him “ thing come about!! Well like most 23yr olds I flew the nest a few year ago, but I always make a case to come back and visit the family during the summer holidays. So I got back around 2 weeks ago, Ellis was at the gym and would be back soon according to my parents, the house only had 3 bedrooms so I would be sharing with Ellis which even before I saw his new hotness would be fine as we had a great relationship, his room was big enough for two beds so my mam got the sofa bed sorted in his room. I was in the room putting my stuff away when I heard the front door open. “ hey guys I’m back.” It was Ellis but his voice had a much deeper tone from when I was last here. My mam informed Ellis that I was upstairs and tea would be ready in about half hour. “ cool mam, I’ll go see bro and shower, I’m starving” I heard Ellis spring up the stairs and towards the room, I had my bag turned as he entered, “ Hey bro good to you! “ he said. I turned round and was just about to return the favour, then I saw him, I just froze, jaw fully ajar. FUUUUUUCK I thought to myself, the tee that he had on was like a second skin, moulding sexily round the aforementioned plump pecs and solid arms. A bulge was embarrassingly becoming apparent in my trousers, I whisked my hands quickly infront hoping he didn’t see. I tried to regain some composure and string some words together. “ B b b bro, er great to see you too, wow you’ve put on some size haven't you!” I instantly walk over to hug him, anything to get close to his insane body, we wrap arms round each other and hug, “ ooopph got some strength to go with those muscles too I see!” jesus his grip was strong! We both let go. I stand back and just stare in awe at my fit as fuck bro. “ jesus bro you certainly know how to make a gay man happy, wow your looking fantastic!” as you can tell I’m failing at the trying to hide my enjoyment speech!. Ellis just smiles at me then laughs, “ ahh thanks bro, I’ve been working out harder this year and seems to be paying off I reckon! “ he winks at me. I try to pull myself together but I just can't! “ er yeah quite clearly, bet the girls are falling all over for you!” Getting there!l “ I think some of the boys are too hahha" Ellis replied. “ right better get showered before tea.” What Ellis did next kicked all the sensibility I had left into next year. Ellis peeled off that tight tee he had on, FUUCKKKKKK, that body was dripping with sweat and oozed tonnes of masculinity, every one of his hot muscles pumped to the max. And that's when it just came out, as free flowing as a river, not even silent or hidden.......... “WHOAHHHHHHH" I erupted. I realised straight away and instantly put my hands over my mouth, but it was too late , Ellis had obviously heard it, he just looked me and continued to smile as if he wasnt bothered that his older bro had given the clearest hint yet that he digged his fit body. “ shit, Ellis I’m so sorry, er I dont even know what to say, you have a fantastic body and it’s quite clearly had an effect on me, errr don’t be mad! “ I just stand there face bright red with admission and embarrassment. Ellis just laughed, “ Well it’s quite clearly had a effect on you bro, isn’t liking muscle one of the gay 10 commandments any way hahah!” I’m in too much of a trance to verbally reply so I just droolingly nod. “ well if my body makes you happy then I’m happy, in fact.... no no you wouldn’t want too with me being family. “ Ellis starts but cuts off and for the first time looks angry with himself. My eyes now in full puppy dog mode, “ no no Ellis tell me its fine, what is it.” Ellis regains his strong confident look, “ Would you like to worship me bro?” He walked over to me all dominantly. Those 7 words were music to my ears, fuck yes I would love nothing more than to get my hands all over his fit body and hes offering which is even better. “ bro I’m not gonna lie, hell yes I would love too! But why the sudden change in tact, wouldn't have had you down for this.” I ask. “ I do some part-time modeling on a weekend, some I’m used to girls and boys getting there hands on me, so it’s kinda a natural progression Haha. Plus I’ve recently discovered a little dominant side to me thru football, being captain etc has given me some new found bossiness Haha.” As he says that he grabs my hand and raises it to his pumped pecs, and starts moving it over them. Sweet jesus they felt like warm solid marble, I couldn’t help but start tracing my finger round his nipple and in his pec gap, “ whoah” I whispered again. Ellis looks up at me. “ How about after tea, we get into some serious worshipping bro?” he says with a confident masculine authority! All my brain would let me physically do was nod!
  7. Encore une petite bêtise ----------------------- Et enfin le voilà! Enfin le voilà mon cher Michel, plus de deux heures que nous l'espérions, deux heures quarante exactement Oui Jean-Luc, le moment que nous attendions tant, et vous aussi chers téléspectateurs, ce palpitant direct, ce grand évènement suivi par toutes les télévisions du monde, il culmine à cet instant, encore quelques secondes avant que le scène ne s'anime. Oui Michel, c'est l'évènement tant attendu, la compétition sportive la plus célébrée au monde, le plus prestigieux trophée du plus prestigieux des sports, et je parle bien entendu du Bodybuilding, Voici enfin le début du spectacle ! Oui cher Jean-Luc, cela va enfin pouvoir commencer, l'élection du MOST EXTREMELY MUSCULAR SUPERHUMAN ULTRAGIGAWEIGHT SUPREME BODYBUILDER OF THE UNIVERSE V. Et oui déjà la cinquième année de cette compétition, ce qui est à la fois peu et beaucoup considérant le statut légendaire qu'elle a si rapidement acquise. Et à juste titre. La foule est en délire alors que sur la scène les pans du décor s'écartent, dans un tumulte de fumée, de lumière et de clameurs Cette année encore on a droit à du grand spectacle, l'organisation n'a pas reculé devant les moyens ! Et voici Frank Lefort qui entre en scène, Ô mon Dieu il est plus spectaculaire que jamais ! Et ce n'est rien de le dire! Le stade tout entier est estomaqué. Et pour l'instant nous n'apercevons que sa silhouette ! Oui le jeu de lumières est très habile, nous tenant en haleine tout en laissant deviner la fabuleuse énormité du physique de ce géant de deux mètres quarante sept ! Mais voici qu'il avance un pied dans la lumière ! Les écrans géants montre ce pied en gros plan, il faut bien dire que les immenses pieds de Frank Lefort, parfaitement bardés de muscles, sont adorés par ses fans. Fans qui sont bien évidemment en nombre ce soir ! Absolument cher Michel, et ils le font savoir, ils l'acclament si fort que je vous entends à peine dans mon casque ! Et cela dure, Jean-Luc, cela dure... Manifestement notre Frank Lefort national attend qu'un peu de calme revienne pour révéler son physique. Ah il faut dire qu'il sait ménager ses effets - enfin dans la mesure du possible ! Mais il semblerait qu'il... BORDEL DE MERDE ! ... Oui pardon Michel, et je m'excuse auprès de nos auditeurs, mais... Oh Jean-Luc je crois que vous avez plus ou moins reflété l'opinion générale, même si votre verbe n'était pas trop chatié, ha ha. Pour ma part je suis resté sans voix. Et pour cause ! Oui, un moment historique, tout bonnement incroyable. Quand la lumière a progressivement révélé ces deux gigantesques pectoraux, je veux dire, il nous avait habitué à l'exceptionnel depuis bien longtemps, mais là, les deux montgolfières de muscle jaillissant de son poitrail ont atteint une taille ahurissante. Tout à fait Michel, Frank Lefort nous présente des pectoraux d'une épaisseur, d'un volume si délirant, qu'ils pendent quasiment jusqu'à sa taille. Sa sangle abdominale toute entière est dissimulée par cette avalanche de muscle mammaire. Mais attendez, oui... Ah mais oui, il fait entrer en bandaison ses deux gros seins, non mais regardez-moi cette folie, on dirait qu'il va décoller, et cette débauche de striations, on peut voir apparaître chaque fibre musculaire Encore et toujours Michel, notre Frank parvient à faire rimer quantité et qualité. Mais c'est sa tête qui disparaît par contre ! Mais oui Jean-Luc, effectivement, l'érection de ses pectoraux est si puissante, que leur volume les fait dépasser la hauteur de son crâne. C'est impensable. Il faut le voir pour le croire. D'autant qu'il n'a pas adopté de pose particulière, il fait ça comme s'il faisait juste rouler ses pectorauoooOOH! Il fait danser ses pectoraux désormais ! La foule est en délire. Des centaines de kilos de muscles qui bondissent et jaillissent de son torse selon son bon vouloir, un phénomène absolument stupéfiant. Attendez Michel, il bloque ses pectoraux en contraction à nouveau. Que... Mais regardez ses abdominaux ! Quelle maîtrise, Il joue se chaque muscle abdominal avec une précision sidérante. Et regardez comme ils sont volumineux, définis et parfaitement symétriques, tous les 10. Mais que faites-vous Michel... Oh il s'est levé pour applaudir, je vais en faire autant Voilà nous reprenons l'antenne, Jean-Luc et moi sommes en nage, pétris d'émotion, Frank Lefort vient de mettre fin à cette "symphonie abdominale", à laquelle ses obliques se sont joint sur la fin, maintenant il a fait retomber ses lourds pectoraux, et reprend sa respiration, comme vous l'entendez le public l'applaudit à tout rompre. Et le spectacle ne fait que commencer. Frank reprend son souffle, en position de détente toujours, son sourire éclatant balayant l'auditoire, ton torse ruisselant de sueur. Vous l'entendez, la foule scande son nom, et... ça devait arriver, le chant des supporters, "Frankie, tu es fort, tu es maître, tu es Dieu, nous t'aimons..." Ca va durer un moment cette affaire. Oui Jean-Luc, l'occasion de commenter sur le choix vestimentaire de M. Lefort, qui n'est pas innocent, cette année il a opté pour un maillot aux couleurs de l'arc-en-ciel, ce qui ne saute pas aux yeux car c'est tout au mieux un cache-sexe, contenant autant que faire se peut son imposant appareil génital. L'athlète nous a habitué à ses maillots de "posing" les plus minuscules possibles, mais aujourd'hui son choix semble inhabituellement politique, certainement une prise de position contre la féroce oppression subie par les homosexuels dans certains pays du Moyen-Orient actuellement ; possiblement aussi, un clin d'oeil à ses innombrables fans dans la communauté gay, envers qui il a toujours manifesté une affection particulière. Attendez Michel, regardez il lève lentement ses bras de part et d'autre, on sait ce qui arrive, oh le stade est en feu. Ses bras atteignent l'horizontale, c'est fou comme il a le sens du spectacle, il fait vraiment vivre des émotions en montagne russes à tous ces gens, et à nous aussi, et à vous aussi sans doute chez vous... Il ferme lentement ses poings... Oh Jean-Luc cette fois-ci c'est mon tour PUTAIN DE BORDEL DE MERDE ! Wow Michel, je crois que... Mais taisez-vous, regardez-moi ça ! Regardez ces planètes ! Regardez ces miracles ! C'est... C'est... Oui clairement, Frank Lefort vient de bander ses biceps, un double biceps, et... le résultat est tout bonnement... pharamineux, devant nous... C'est... C'est... Comment dire, au moment où il a contracté ses bras, Frank Lefort a matérialisé deux entités gigantesques, ses biceps, déjà colossalement énormes au repos, se sont transformés en monticules de muscle d'une taille improbable, dont je serais bien incapable d'estimer les dimensions... C'est... C'est.... ... et, et... qui s'étend non seulement haut vers le ciel, mais également sur les côtés, de toutes parts, des protubérances qui... il règne un silence implacable dans le stade, on peut juste entendre... Je ne sais pas si vous l'entendez, mais Frank Lefort hurle furieusement de joie en contemplant tour à tour ses biceps qu'il bande frénétiquement, comme s'il voulait voir leurs veines exploser, je vois beaucoup de gens qui s'évanouissent dans l'auditoire, et moi-même... C'est... C'est... Je pense que Michel et moi ne sommes plus en état de commenter les images pour le moment, nous vous prions de nous en excuser, mais je pense que le les images qui vont suivre se passeront de tout commentaire, (...) Nous... avons passé une soirée intense. Vous pouvez le dire Jean-Luc. Nous espérons que vous nous pardonnerez le manque de professionnalisme dont nous avons fait preuve ce soir, comme vous le voyez Frank Lefort est à nouveau couronné du titre suprême, encore cette année il était seul compétiteur. Comme chaque année depuis la création de ce concours. Effectivement.
  8. teroyugi

    Dad's Growth (Furry)

    Dad’s Growth In a quaint suburban town lived a family of muscle heads. They were the Brooks. The father who went by Big B was a black Caucasian Shepherd dog. He was a towering figure in person and as the owner of the only construction company in their town. Ever since high school Big B was an avid sports fur, more specifically a star in the wrestling ring. Till today the local high school display his award for bringing home the trophy in the wrestling championship on his own, a feat that no one had ever accomplish ever again. Sadly after graduation and starting a family at 18 the dog did not maintain his physique. Once a prime example of physical prowess, the shepherd had been reduced to a bear like build. His once hard washboard abs was replaced by a soft gut. What used to be a dense barrel chest and powerful titanic thighs were now soft and smoother a little. Even his once powerful grapefruit sized arms that could carry half the cheerleading team had grown weaker. He was fortunate that his long fluffy fur made it hard for others to see what had become to his body. Still the other furs respected Big B for his work and effort as a single father. One drunken night after the prom with the captain of the debate team resulted in a shotgun marriage and the arrival of a beautiful baby boy. Big B’s wife wasn’t satisfied with being forced into the role of a mother at such a young age so they filed for a divorce in less than a year, but the baby would stay with him. He worked hard to build a proper home for his boy, started at the construction company as nothing more than a grunt worker but he worked his way up and rubbed elbows with the right fur until he could set up his own company. Soon he moved from a run-down apartment to a proper terrace house where his son could grow up well. The pup was named Benny. Like his father the pup was tall, by 15 his head was the same level as his old man. His fur was jet black from head to toe with patches of orange on his back and forehead. He also inherited his father’s love of sports as he led the school’s football team, and after joining college he continued the sport he loved. Big B could not deny that he felt a pang of jealousy watching his son reach the same level of musculature he had at that age. It reminded him that he was getting old. Determined to make a change for himself while his son was away in college he would do everything it takes to build his muscles again. In now times, Benny was due to come home for his 2 week semester break. Sporting a plain blue t shirt and jeans the 19 year old dog slept throughout his bus ride home as the weeks before was crammed with finals and overdue assignments. He could not wait to crash on his old bed. By the time he reached the bus stop his phone showed that it was 6:30 p.m. His dad promised to pick him the night before, but he never showed up. Another reason for Benny to be concerned, already on the phone his dad sounded weird, he kept breathing heavily into the phone and weird groaning sounds came from him. After waiting for an hour with no dad in sight Benny decided to lug himself and his backpack on foot. The young pup reached home at 7:30 p.m. Panting heavily with his tongue out he really wanted to give his dad a piece of his mind. As he approached the door his ears perked up to weird sounds coming from the inside. Pressing his ear against the wooden white door he could hear odd squishing sounds like someone walking through a puddle. Then he heard his father’s gruff voice grunting and saying “Fuck”. Was something wrong? Was his dad in danger? Benny had to find out. Unsure of what to face if there was an intruder he planned to tackle them on sight, and if his dad was injured he had to run fast to get help. His heart was racing, ready to burst out of his chest as he knocked on the door loudly. It was when he heard his dad’s reply that all the tension within him was sapped away. “H-hold on,” his dad’s voice said. The door flew open and Benny was left speechless at what he saw. His eyes were staring straight at the largest pair of pecs he had ever seen. They were large enough to be mistaken for watermelons. Benny had to take a step back to see the massive creature taking up the entire door frame. The creature’s feet were massive with thighs so wide and thick that it could crush an entire bike. Hard 8 pack abs lined its stomach area. It wore a yellow jockstrap that did nothing to hide the thick semi hard dick the size of Benny’s forearm and two massive globes that hung beneath the member. And still that wasn’t all of it, the rest of the creature’s arms and head was hidden away by the small door frame. He didn’t want to believe it but the creature had to be his father. “D-ad?” Benny called out softly. “Son?” The creature ducked under the doorframe and true enough it was his dad. The older dog’s fur on his head was messier than usual. Benny just stared in awe at his now 7 foot tall father. Questions ran through his head but before he could speak, two thick hands grabbed him from under the armpits and pulled him into the tightest bear hug he ever had. His snout was buried deep in the cleavage of his father’s pectorals. “Son! So good to see you. Look how big you are now,” Big B said. The older dog was swinging his son’s body left and right excitedly without realizing that his son was beating on his chest with all his might, trying to get his attention. It was when benny’s foot accidentally rubbed against his dad’s dick that Big B looked down between his pecs and realized his son wanted to be put down. Benny gasped and coughed. The scent of his dad’s musky and sweaty fur was stuck on his nose. “D-d-dad. What the fuck?” Big B chuckled. “You like it son?” the older dog raised his right arm and flexed, the thick arm bulged up to the size of a bowling ball. “Daddy’s been working out!” he said before bringing his arm close to his snout and licked it. Benny was unsure of what to say, but he had to get his suddenly sexy dad inside. “Dad No! The neighbors will see,” the younger dog pushed his dad on the stomach but the larger dog did not budge. “Pssh, it ain’t something they haven’t seen. Heck Bob next door saw me naked yesterday. I’m sure he enjoyed it,” Big B replied. “DAD!” The humongous dog then started backed away inside just to satisfy his embarrassed son. Benny thought things would be better inside but he was wrong. The entire living room was empty of all other furniture except for the old couch which looked like it was on its last legs-literally. Bottles of protein powder and unknown supplements littered the corner to the left of the door. A lifting bench with barbells and several dumbbells took up most of the living room space. Gone were the family photos and the flat screen TV. Benny noted what looked like wet stains on the ceiling, there were more all over the floor. His nose twitched and he nearly recoiled upon realizing what the stains were-his dad’s cumshots. “What did you do to this place dad?” Benny asked, concerned. “Just moved some things here and there, the TV is in your room now and the pictures are well anywhere that isn’t my gym,” Big B said. The hulking dog walked over to the sofa and dropped his heavy frame on it. The poor sofa creaked and bended itself to support the dog’s weight. “I just can’t believe this. I go away for 2 semesters and-and you trash the house, and you turn into a muscle monster.” Benny started pacing while trying to avoid looking at his dad’s almost naked body. Big B scratched his bulge and replied, “Son relax. So your old man went to the gym and grew a bit. I thought you’d be proud of my gains. “ The two just looked at each other for a minute. Benny was still half dazed by what was going on and his dad didn’t seem to care. Even now when he was trying to have a serious conversation with his old man the Big B was bouncing his pecs with a cocky grin. “Dad…” Benny extended the word. “I need some rest. We’ll talk about all of this tomorrow.” Benny made his way upstairs. “Sure son,” Big B said with a hint of disappointment in his voice. Once inside his room, Benny dropped his backpack on the floor. His room was basically unchanged. His bed still faced perpendicular to the entrance with the TV now in front of the foot of his bed. To its right was his closet. The pup locked his room door and collapsed on his bed. He stared at the white ceiling wall and started thinking about his dad. The way he lifted him with such ease, the way his muscles smelt when he was pressed up against him. Covering his eyes with his right arm Benny unzipped his jeans to release his throbbing boner. Another trait he inherited from his father was a thick fat dick with huge swollen balls the size of golf balls. It paled in comparison to his father’s enlarged furhood now. All the questions were just a façade to hide his true feelings. He loved how his dad had grown so huge. He never told anyone before, but he was gay and his dad was now the fur of his dreams. Stroking his leaking cock, Benny imagined growing into his dad’s size as well. He imagined ripping through his clothes in public as his pecs balloon out and eventually blocking his view from the rest of the world. Benny moaned loudly. How he wanted his arms to expand and grow in strength so that he could lift an entire car with ease. Pre-cum continued to ooze from his dick, lubing the entire shaft. Then he would outgrow his dad and be able to pin him to the ground. He would then shove his giant dick between his dad’s hefty pecs and pec fuck him till he came. The last thought sent Benny over the edge causing him to blow his load all over his shirt and snout. “Fucking dad…” Benny whispered to himself. Stripping his shirt off, Benny sneaked out of his room not wanting to be seen. The bathroom was right beneath his room but he would have to go through the living room to get to it. Benny tip toed slowly, his tail was erect just to avoid making a sound with it dragging on the floor. As he was walking pass the hallway to the stairs he saw his dad’s wide black furred back facing him. His dad turned to the side to face the sofa and Benny saw him hold a vial full of glowing neon blue liquid. Benny crouched down to get a better look. He wondered what was that his dad had. Then the older dog downed the entire concoction without letting a single drop spill. Big B started staggering backwards with his arms locked into a boxer’s pose. He started growling and his entire body shook. Benny could not believe what he was seeing his dad’s entire body began to swell. His already huge pecs extended out further. Benny gasped as he saw his dad’s shoulders stretch further to the sides, he was wide enough to take up three quarters of the sofa. His arms ballooned up to the size of Benny’s head. Deep veins began to snake around Big B’s arms and legs. The change in height then soon followed slowly but it was very noticeable that the older dog was growing several inches taller with each passing second. “Argh…Must Grow! Bigger!” Big B said followed by a deep growl. The growing dog’s bulge began to grow as his enlarging dick grew harder. Big B’s jockstrap was beginning to rip at the seams struggling to contain the thick pole growing to the size of a traffic cone. With a guttural roar his dad’s cock fired its load, splattering the sofa with white spunk and the torn remains of what used to be his jockstrap. He cummed for what felt like minutes, completely covering the sofa with a new coat of paint. Finally when his orgasm completed the muscle bound dog just stood there panting heavily. Benny was feeling a mix of emotions at what he saw, awe, fear, lust, and disgust all at the same time. The young pup walked slowly downstairs never taking his eyes off his gargantuan father. As he approached he saw another change, that his dad was losing back his gained height. “D-ad? Are you ok?” Benny asked. “Son?” Big B was surprised by his son’s presence. He looked at his shirtless child and walked closer to the frightened pup. Towering above the smaller dog, his cock sprang to life, slapping against his hard abs with a wet thud. “You saw something you shouldn’t have boy,” he said menacingly. Benny gulped and thought to himself, what did he get himself into this time?
  9. hero1000returns

    no sex Son of the Hulk (Revised)

    Under an old user name in an old section of the forum, I had written a story about the son of the hulk. Here is a re-imagined version of that story... Son Of The Hulk Jason looked at his phone. The text was there. The number from multiple call attempts had been flagged as "possible spam". "Meet me at 1:30 by McDonald's across the street" Jason looked around uncomfortably. A click and another message. "I am wearing a green polo shirt and blue jeans with a grey ball cap" Jason was dumbfounded. His mother was killed in a car accident when he was 7. He had no idea who his father was. He had no siblings. He had been passed from foster home to foster home. Some better than others. Why was a stranger texting him? Was it that old guy from that perverted home where they molested all the kids? Jason was sure he was still in prison. How would he even have his number, though? The front door of the apartment banged open and shut. "Yo! Jason! You here?" "Yeah, Bryce! Be right there" Jason picked up his phone and went out to the kitchen to see his roommate, gym rat Bryce. Straight from his workout, sweating, pumped, and super stinky. "Damn, Bryce, don't they have showers at that place? Iron Palace or whatever?" "Iron Mecca, bro, and yes, but in a rush today. Besides the sweet man perfume makes the phat chicks follow" He gave a smirk and flexed one ample sized arm. "Vomit you mean. And I am not one of your 'phat chicks' so clean-up" Bryce laughed. Jason looked at his phone it was 1:15, "I gotta go somewhere real quick" Bryce paused at the awkward sound in Jason's voice. "Hey, yeah, I can shower real quick and go with you, if you want. We can grab some food or..." "No." Jason looked uncomfortable, "I gotta do this by myself. But..." He paused. "I will call you at 2:00. If you don't hear from me, call the police ok?" "Woah, are you sure you don't want me to go?" "No. I'm sure it will be fine. We can eat afterwards" Bryce was already peeling off his sweaty t-shirt. "Okay, bro. And don't worry I will clean up the floor there" Jason glanced at his phone then left the apartment. McDonald's was only a block away, but if he drove with his tinted windows he could see the mysterious messenger before the person ever saw him He got in his 2018 Lime Green Dodge Charger and revved the engine. As he pulled out onto the highway, he saw the restaurant and a bus stop out in front. No one was there as he passed. He decided to make a U-turn and check again. As he waited for the light, there was another message from the phone. "Just pull in this time" A jolt of discomfort went through him, "Talk about some big brother shit" he muttered. He turned at the light and as he approached the restaurant again, he saw somebody with the matching outfit sitting at a table in the play area. He pulled in and parked. Jason studied him for a minute before getting out of the car and knew that the guy was watching him back. He looked like he was only a year or two older. Maybe 28 or 29. 30 at the oldest, definitely. "Here goes nothing. Let's see what this guy wants" He opened the car door, and stood for a second. The stranger watched him from inside the building. Jason went in and circled towards the play area. He stood just inside the door and spoke, "Okay. I’m here. What do you want?" "If you are going to try to be subtle, a Lime Green Dodge Charger is not the way to go" the stranger gave a sardonic smile. "I will ask again, what do you want? You have 30 seconds to make yourself clear" "It will take longer than 30 seconds" "25" "Okay. I need to talk with you about your family." A surge of hurt and anger flashed through Jason. "I'm leaving! Right now!" "Don't! Jason, this is important! I have information on your father!" Jason paused half turned towards the door "The father who never gave a damn about me? Who left me to foster homes and molesters? That father???" Jason spun with tears stinging his eyes, "Well, FUCK HIM!" The stranger was also crying, "I know..." "You know nothing!" "Please, Jason, let's just talk." Jason stormed out the door, keys already in hand. The stranger was on his feet and following. "Jason stop, please, just..." People in the McDonald's had paused to watch the spectacle. Jason jumped in the car and tried to slam the door but the stranger had a grip on it, fighting him for it. Jason began backing out of the lot, fighting for the door at the same time. The stranger was yelling at him to stop. He finally got some leverage on the door and slammed it shut as he sped up towards the highway, only to realize he had shut the stranger’s fingers in it. The stranger was screaming and being half dragged along the pavement. Jason popped the door and kicked him away. He saw people in the restaurant with cell phones out filming the whole thing. Great, he was about to be the next viral sensation! Maybe the world was better without social media. He didn't see the stranger’s eyes turn white. He didn't hear his screaming voice drop in pitch or notice as the stranger ran for the cover of the woods. He turned onto the highway trying to figure out where to go to cool off. Not back to the apartment just yet. What the hell was going... WHAM! The whole car shook violently. WHAM! WHAM! from the back of the car. Something green and huge had smashed the trunk of the car and was lifting the rear end off the ground. Jason gunned the gas but the back wheels just spun in the air. The creature lifted the whole car over its head like it weighed nothing and carried it off the highway. Jason screaming from inside. Other cars had stopped and stared. Jason undid his seat belt and tried to open the door and jump free as the thing raced off into another section of the wooded hillside. The monster shook the car throwing him around like a rag doll. Finally, the beast dropped the car in a ditch at such an angle that Jason was trapped inside. Surely with everyone watching he just needed to stay low until help arrived. Surely help would arrive...right? Another loud bang and the door pulled free and went flying off. A thick muscular green arm, larger than anything Jason had ever seen reached in and dragged him from the car. Jason screamed in terror. The creature actually became very gentle when it got Jason out and then set him down near the car. It watched Jason as it slowly sat beside him. Jason tried to edge away but the creature was on full alert. Then he thought it looked a bit smaller. Odd trick of the light maybe. The creature blinked a bit confused and maybe sleepy. Yes, it was smaller. It was shrinking somehow. The muscle retreating. The creature let out a gasp. The face took on a more human shape. Jason stared, it was looking more like the stranger from the restaurant. "What the actual fuck?" he whispered as the stranger looked like a heavyweight bodybuilder with a light green tinge now. "I....I...tried..." it rumbled gasping between words The creature gave a huge sigh and swallowed as he became more like an athletic jock. At last his eyes returned to a more normal hazel color. The man sat there, watching Jason. Breathing heavily. Jason said nothing but just stared. The man spoke, "I just wanted to talk. I didn't want to scare you." Jason didn't move. "It is hard to control sometimes. Sometimes...it feels...good" "Who the hell are you and what do you want with me?" Jason spoke softly. The man looked at the ground. Then back at Jason, with tears in his eyes, "I'm your father, Jason" Somebody was slapping Jason's face. He opened his eyes. He looked up and saw the stranger, then realization dawned that he had passed out. Jason recoiled. The man stepped back. They were still in the woods by the car. "I wrecked your car. I'm sorry about that." "You...you can't be my father. You are only about 30 years old? I'm 27! That's impossible" "No, Jason, I am actually 60" "What...what do you want from me?" "I want my son. Is that so bad?" "You’re freaking me out." Jason felt his heart race. Jason's phone rang, he looked down and saw it was 2:15 and Bryce was calling. He ignored it. Maybe Bryce would call the police for real and he would get help. The stranger said, "Are you going to answer that?" "No" "Your roommate will be worried. He does love you very much" "Have you been stalking me? You're a stalker. That's it. You have studied my life because you have some sort of weird thing about me. That's it. Well, when I don't answer, Bryce will call the police, so you had better just leave and not do anything to me. I don't know your name or where you live and you can just leave me alone and..." "My name is David" "What?" "David, and what about my secret that you just saw?" "That was a hallucination. You injected me with something and..." Jason started to cry. "Please don't hurt me. Just go away and I won't tell anyone about this..." "Stop, Jason! I am not going to hurt you. You really are my son. I will explain if you give me the chance. It is important for you to understand because..." Jason stuck his fingers in his ears and closed his eyes. David sighed and waited. Eventually Jason opened his eyes again and pulled his fingers out, "You're still here" "Yep" "How can you be my father?" "Long story, can we get some clothes and go somewhere? It is kind of cold out here" "You kind of destroyed my car" "Do you have clothes in there? Just a shirt at least? I can deal with torn pants. I've done it before" Jason, being a typical single guy, did have clothes all over his car. He grabbed a shirt and handed it to the man. David took it. A tight fit, but better than nothing. "I was studying an anti-aging serum. It was pretty effective but they wanted to cut my funding." "Why are you telling me this?" "Jason, right now it is just you and me out here. If I was going to do anything bad to you, it would have already happened. Well, other than your car. Sorry about that." "You can talk but keep your distance, I don't trust you." "Fine." He stared at Jason for a minute "Like I said, anti-aging serum. Funding cut. This was about a year before you were born. I needed to test it. I was about 32 at the time and I tested it on myself." Jason said, "So you expect me to believe you found a fountain of youth?" "I don't expect you to believe anything. I just want you to listen." Jason looked away. "If you really are my father, why did you hide from me?" "I'm getting to that. At first the serum was wonderful. It felt amazing. I took a second dose, and that is where some problems began to occur. There was an exponential problem that gets compounded without regulating the DNA structures" "Okay, that is all blah blah blah" "Right. Soon I was about 30 years old but much fitter and stronger than I had ever been. I hadn't told Kathy about this she just thought I was working out a lot" "Mom?" "Yes." "You slept with her with this serum?" David paused, "Yes." Jason stared. "A year after you were born, I was still as young as you see me now. People were going to notice. For your and Kathy's sake, I left. I put a large amount of money in the account to help her raise you. I didn't want you to have the social stigma of what I had done." "Just looking young? But you didn't tell her?" "I left a note" "She didn't understand it. And I never saw it because she died..." "I know." "You didn't come get me?" "Something else had happened, which no one knows about. Until now" "That thing?" David paused, "Yes. The first time it happened I was still living with you two. Coming home from work, I stopped for gas. As I finished pumping, two young men tried to car jack me. I tried to fight them out of the car, but they were in, kind of like what happened at McDonald's. They tried to drive off, but my lab coat was caught in the door. It ripped and I went flying off into a ditch at the side of the road. Then it happened. As I hit the dirt, I felt an incredible rush of power through my system. I didn't know what was happening. Rage fueled my veins and I could feel my clothes getting tighter. I felt amazing. But then I kind of blacked out. Fragments of rage and strength and then I seemed to come to, with only my boxers barely hanging on my frame. I looked down at a massively muscular body that I knew couldn't be mine, but it was getting smaller by the second. My mind was gradually clearing. You already saw that happen here, so you know I am not lying." "What does that have to do with me?" "I have been finding a way to control this, so doing some research on my own, as I can, I also found that I may have passed this on to you." "What?" "I am not sure, but you are nearing a point where your aging is beginning to slow down. Most people will continue, but that's why I was watching you. You aren't aging like everyone else, so more than ever I am convinced..." "I haven't ever turned green or done anything like that. People age at different rates, anyhow" "I know what to look for" "yeah? well..." "I needed to test you at the restaurant. I tried to talk to you carefully, but when you got angry about family?" "Yeah" "Did you feel anything?" "Pissed off..." "Your eyes changed color. Mine turn white. Yours did too. I thought you were going to have a full transformation in the play area of McDonald's and I tried to stop you. I definitely didn't want you to drive while it was happening." "You're lying" "No. Fortunately, you may have time before it fully happens to you, but I needed to warn you. I..." "Bryce..." "What?" "Yesterday, I got mad at him for spilling something on the floor. I felt powerful when I yelled at him and he actually backed up and said my eyes looked funny" "It may be closer than you know." "Damn it. I'd better call him back before..." Jason's phone rang again. It was Bryce. Jason answered it quickly, "Hello?" "2:00 is long gone! I almost called the cops for real, bro!" "I'm good. I think. I'll be there shortly." "Can we get some food? Growing boy gotta eat" "Yeah" Jason hung up and turned back to the man who was completely altering his life, "Thank you" David sighed. "I don't know what to call you. Dad? David? How do I even fit this into my life?" "I have been trying to figure that out too. I have an apartment not far from here. I can give you a ride home, then head back." "I guess" They finally emerged from the hillside and made their way to McDonald's. David had a large silver Ford F150. Jason climbed into the cab. "Nice truck, Davey" "Not Davey, definitely. Dave or David will work" "I guess I need to get my own place so Bryce doesn't find out" "You two have known each other since 6th grade." "How do you..." "I wasn't completely an absentee father. I watched and did stuff behind the scenes. That old child molester? Who do you think reported him? And had the evidence filed away to lock him up forever" They pulled up to the apartment, Jason got out. David looked down, "Stay in touch so we can figure this out." "Okay" Bryce was waiting outside, "Who the hell was that?" "Uh, just a friend." "Your face is kind of bruised. You okay?" "Yeah, give me..." "Where's your car?" "I wrecked it." He sighed. Bryce paused and stared at him, "Maybe you need to start lifting with me. A little muscle would do you some good. Confidence builder." Jason smirked, "Sure" "All right, let's eat"
  10. Guest

    no sex A Competitive Workout

    This is my first story. I wanted to adapt something that really happened to me in a trip, some years ago, and see if you like it (it's a short read) A Competitive Workout Lots of days have passed since I went on a vacation travel with some friends. Flying from Perú to make our dreams of knowing Hong Kong, Japan, Cambodia and Thailand a reality. Those were awesome days, Tokyo was actually a dream, and staying at Koh Phi Phi at the end of our trip was the best ending for it (and it was also quite weird, everyone, and I mean EVERYONE was insanely muscular, like if the water had steroids in it, but that might be another story...). And so, our last day of vacation arrived. The last night before taking the plane back, I stayed in the airport hotel, where they had this amazing and well equipped gym (maybe the best gym I've ever been). I always workout at night (like really late, after midnight), and it is usually empty at that time (even more when working out in a hotel hahaha). I went to workout arms as usual (and as you can tell from my pictures, that's my favorite body part to train). Biceps and triceps were the treat of the day. I don't know if it was because I had rested a lot before coming to train, but I felt particularly strong and my muscles resisted a bit more weight that night. Bicep curls with 40lbs in each arm, made my muscles pump to no believe, I could see two enormous veins filling with blood over my huge biceps (one on each arm). Then came the triceps extensions with 180lbs and the horseshoe on my arm became even more visible, I almost felt it was going to explode because of the amount of muscle that was pumping beyond believe... I was flexing, looking in the mirror, my enormous physique engorged with blood and a strength I never had before. My guns were HUGE. And then, suddenly, someone else came to the gym too. He was a really muscular man, taller than myself (well, I'm a bit short, it's not that difficult to be taller than me hahaha), and he was built like a bull. His neck was amazingly thick, putting mine to shame. He went to the mirror and started flexing his amazingly big muscles too, admiring himself. But, he also glanced at me while I was working out, like he was planning something. And then it began. Whenever I finished an exercise and started resting between sets, he went straight towards the weights I just left, and started lifting them for his own workout making lots of grunting sounds (which I really, REALLY hate hahaha). I could see all his muscles pumping and growing (which was a great sight, can't deny that), but somehow, he also seemed to struggle with the weights I was using. Whenever he finished a set, he always looked at me and flexed his gigantic arms, like if he was defying me to lift even more weight. I tried to ignore him for a while, just concentrating on my own workout, but I must confess I got really bored of his horrible grunts and his attitude, so I decided to teach him a lesson and END this muscle and strength competition. I went to the triceps pulldown machine, put the weight to the max (220lbs if I remember correctly), and started lifting a set with it, getting to 10 reps. My triceps became huge, and it was difficult to move them because of the pump they got. I didn't have to flex them in order to see a perfect horseshoe I had on the back of my enormous arm. Then, I got to the dumbbells, left the ones I was using before (40lbs), and got the ones that weighted 50lbs to do bicep curls, finishing my set too. My guns were amazingly huge right now. The two engorged veins were pulsating with power each time I moved the weight up and down, feeling how they got bigger and bigger. I couldn't touch my head as they were so pumped right now. It was like having two huge slabs of muscle attached to my body, responding to enormous strength. As I finished, now I was the one who looked at him, defying to outclass my already surprising strength. I'm not lying to you, he actually gulped. He was afraid. He had watched in awe as I moved all that weight with the power of my arms alone and started walking to were I left the weights. He first went to the triceps pulldown machine and tried to lift it to no avail. He tried, his face turning red, his already enormous muscles just stuck without moving... He had to reduce 40lbs of weight in the machine to finish his set. Then, he went for the 50lbs dumbbells. He looked at me and flexed his arms in a double biceps that would have amazed anyone in this forum, and then tried to lift the weights. He got them, each on one hand, and I thought that with his humongous size, he would be able to curl them... But he couldn't. Not even one rep. He went back for the 40lbs and angrily finished his set. I decided to give a coup de grace to his arrogance. One final set. I went to the dumbbell rack and got the ones that weighted 60lbs. I had NEVER lifted that much weight in each arm, this was a really a risk. But I felt confident, felt strong, my arms looked like they had doubled in size because of the pump and the adrenaline and I decided to try... And suceeded. I made my last set while looking directly at him as I pumped my arms. He was in complete disbelief. He watched this impossible weight (at least it was for me), go up and down for reps, my guns becoming EVEN MORE HUGE. I finished, drop the weights and looked at him while trying to cross my arms (it was difficult because of the pump really hahaha), and he just left the gym, afraid and ashamed. That was the most fun I’ve ever had in a gym, I guess competitive people like him deserve experiences like this one. This was a final selfie I took just after I finished, couldn't move my arms that much (my camera sucked big time at that time).
  11. PREFACE Any actual growth will take place in the next chapter. The once and future Part one "It was much better in the days of King Arthur.", Cunedda said. "You say that a lot, grandfather.", Padarn answered. "In those days it was easy to get some proper British food, like garum, Cilician and Cypriot wine, olives, kippers and lemons, not these horrendous newfangled European bangers the Anglo-Saxons try to introduce. I haven't eaten proper British olives in years!" "I think bangers are delicious, if you fry them together with kippers and some black pudding for breakfast. They would probably be even better with some fried vegetables, but I don't think turnips make the cut." "I wouldn't even touch bangers with a spear. Without knowing it, next time we would be sitting there celebrating a Saxon October-fest." "I think October-fest sounds nice, grandfather. It's not food I'm worried about." "Which reminds me of the growing problem of binge-drinking youth. We never had any binge-drinking youth when I was young, as far as I can remember. If we enforce some stern legislation against anti-social behaviour in all kingdoms of Britain, binge-drinking will probably have turned extinct by 550 AD. It's only a fad." "Now when I think of it, I haven't seen many kippers in the last few years." They fell silent and gazed into the open fire. The Chieftain had lost his sons at the battle of Camlann, but his grandson Padarn was expected to succeed him. They were sitting inside their Romano-British villa, an old mosaic decorating the floor. The flickering light from the open fire caused the birds depicted in the mosaic to seemingly fly. "There's something wrong with the plumbing again, Grandpa. We have to use the outhouse. Do you really think it was a good idea to let the plumbers from Tuscany leave? The aqueducts are not working properly anymore, and something has happened to the leadpipes." "We had to leave the Roman Empire, trail our own path in the world, and take back control of our borders. Do you question the wise decisions of King Maelgwn of Gwynedd?" "Well, he didn't manage the plague particularly well, did he? We might see a second wave, soon. And speaking of borders, do you call it controlling our borders to sell Cantiacum to the Jutes, Essex to the East-Saxons and Sussex to the South-Saxons? King Caradoc invited Jutes to Isle of Wight! If it continues like this, we will soon see the Kingdoms of Nossex, Middlesex, and Nessex as well. Under Bozza, King of the Jutes, Cantiacum has been turned into a parking-lot for horse-carriages. That's appeasement policy. Soon we will all speak English." "Rubbish. Everyone speak Welsh and Latin in Britain, and nothing will ever change that simple and obvious fact. And my boy, don't ever use the word 'appeasement' when the King's advisors are around. They are terribly sensitive to that particular choice of word, for a lot of reasons." "I just think, that we would have been better equipped to withstand any English attempts to inroads into Britain, if the Roman legions had remained." "Nonsense, boy. Project Fear! Nothing to worry about! Everything will be fine." "Grandpa! The English have conquered the lands of the Iceni. What would Boudicca have done, if she'd been alive?" "Well, ehrrr, now when you put it that way, young lad, it's actually a very good argument. Turning the Icenian parts of Britain into that fake East Anglia nonsense is indeed an infelicitous development. Not proper at all, I say. A breach of nice old traditions, I say. I will mention the subject matter to the King next time I meet him, and advice him to discuss the matter when all British Kings meet in council, that is, if Vortiporius and Aurelius Conan turn up. I've heard, that Irish pirates have raided St. David's again." "What if the British kingdoms united with the Irish in order to turn the English tide?" "Nonsense. The Irish are our hereditary foe. Did Bendigeidfran then steal the magic cauldron from the Irish for nothing? We have nothing in common." "We both speak Celtic languages?" "Well, uhm." "We both have a cattle-based economy?" "Uh, well, but ..." "Since the last few generations the Irish are Christians, and so are we, while the English sacrifice to Woden and Thunor ..." "Well, yes, but ..." "Traditional poetry is held in esteem both among Welsh-speakers and the Irish ..." "But you can't ..." "The only difference I am able to recollect, is the fact, that we were integrated into the Empire for quite a while, and the Irish were not." "There you see. As I said: We have nothing in common." A servant entered the room. "There is a messenger to see you, Mylord." "A messenger?" "A messenger from King Maelgwn." "Oh goodness gracious. Tell him, that I'll see him soon in the atrium. Quick, Padarn, help me to my quarters. I have to put my toga on." * * * Since it was after sunset, the atrium laid in darkness, with the exception of the flames of a few wax-candles. Padarn hoped, that the messenger wouldn't notice Grandpa's plaid trousers under the toga. The messenger was a pale, dark-haired man, wearing a foot-length robe in a fashionable Byzantine cut, but it was entirely black, which was unusual. Byzantine robes were usually quite colourful in several senses of the word. "Ave, messenger, I am Cunedda, Chieftain of this village." "Ave, Mylord, I am Blackadda, adviser of Maelgwn, king of Gwynedd." "And how may I be of assistance?" "To be blunt, I've been sent to ask certain questions, on behalf of the King." "Please, go on." "Have there been any observations recently of subaquatic supernatural female arms-dealers in these local whereabouts?" "There haven't." "What a disappointment. That was on the top of my little list, but we have to go for the other alternatives, then." "Alternatives?" "Yes, King Maelgwn and his colleagues are considering any tactical advantage they might have, if the British-English tensions escalate further. Did you hear, that Londinium is under siege from the Essex army?" "Good heavens! There must be something we can do?" "Well, the next question on my little list, Mylord, is, if there have been any observations of part-time working minor goddesses of fate sitting under trees by cross-roads accosting knights?" "No, sorry." "Thirdly, have any Questing Beasts been observed in the area recently?" "I'm sorry to disappoint you. The last one was captured by a Saracen knight briefly before the disappearance of King Arthur into Avalon, and it died in the private zoo of a wealthy Sarmatian merchant two years later." "Well, I see, and fourthly, I wonder if there are any druids left in the region of Anglesey?" "How dare you! There haven't been any druids in Ynys Môn since Gaius Suetonius Paulinus killed them off, and as long as I am Chieftain of Llanfair­pwllgwyngyll­gogery­chwyrn­drobwll­llan­tysilio­gogo­goch, there will be no druids here either." "How disappointing. I wonder then, if there are any bards in this region?" "Bards, yes of course. Why?" "Very well. If somebody could introduce me to the bards tomorrow, I will interview them. It's late." * * * Since I now have learned how to edit, I'm able to tell you, that the second part of this story is found: HERE.
  12. Preface Dear muscledrain, You wanted a magic switch of brains and brawn. I could have chosen to make the protagonist a black-metal kid called Moonsorrow Bloodpain, who invoked Cthulhu,* or something similar, to facilitate the magic, but then both himself and his recently muscular friend would eventually have been eaten by unnamable and eldritch primordial spacegods* of the elder days, and – as I understood your story idea – you expected something slightly more feelgood than that. But which sort of magic would be feelgood? Classical gods from Greece and Rome transforming mortal men is a story idea already used several times over at Metabods (Dionysus and Mars, if I remember correctly), so that idea was already taken. It then struck me, that some people out there IRL believe in a sort of magic Moonsorrow Bloodpain definitely would shun: Hoodoo – which is a mix of native Congolese religion, Protestantism, Dutch folklore, Catholicism (since the 1960’s) and slight traces of renaissance esotericism. It would probably be feelgood enough. But then another dilemma emerged: Which red-blooded, sports obsessed young male in a predominantly Agnostic environment would get the idea to even ask an eccentric and mysterious hoodoo lady for help? I then realised that bodybuilding and martial arts are very popular among young Syriac men, and that they – however laddish they are indeed – often have an honest respect for the saints. I have also observed that a lot of MMA fighters like to wear rosaries. Some of my former neighbours are Syriacs – very nice and friendly people with a flair for making good food. This is the way one of the protagonists was invented. I want to thank sithspawn, CardiMuscleman, mrk78, yourself, and some others for very valuable linguistic and stylistic advice. To write in a foreign language is full of potential errors. Any remaining errors are my own fault. Just as Northern Americans (and I don’t mean Canadians and Bahamians at the moment) let their Muscle Growth Stories take place in the US (or in a fictitious country identical to the US when it comes to educational system and cultural patterns, such as sports scholarships, pompoms, American football and resident colleges), I will, as a Swede, let the following story occur in a fictitious country with an educational system and cultural patterns indistinguishable from the Swedish ones: an academic year consisting of two semesters (not three terms), no school uniforms, pupils/students living at home with their parents at least until the age of 19, mixed social backgrounds at many (but not all) schools, and Agnostics observing Christian holidays. The difference between working class and middle class is probably more subtle and fluid over here than in other parts of the world – at least that was my impression on vacation in UK and Italy. The city in the story is, however, a city that never was. It will be futile, if any other Scandinavians reading this will try to figure out exactly where the story takes place: Everywhere and nowhere. The spelling of surnames have been anglicised. That wasn’t, however, necessary with the first names, which could pass for many nationalities just as they are. Comics readers: Look out for the easter egg. I hope you will have fun! Addenda * Long after writing this introduction, I actually wrote a horror story about Lovecraftesque forgotten eldritch primordial spacegods, called Professor Schnackenburg's mistake. With a little help from magic Chapter One The cold wind pushed the red and yellow leaves over the schoolyard with a rustling sound. The sky was steel-grey and unforgiving. Inside the brick-building housing the sixth-form school, lockers were clattering, and the sound of many voices blended into a tiresome murmur. Feet swiftly hurried to lecture rooms. John had put his rucksack in his locker, and was taking his chemistry book out, when he heard a disturbingly familiar voice behind him: ’Isn’t it Swotter? Oi! Swotter, I’m speaking to you!’ The eighteen-year-old closed the locker, and tried to look in another direction. Sometimes it worked. ’Look at me, when I’m talking to you!’ A hand on his shoulder. A foot behind his heel. Suddenly, John found himself on the floor and the chemistry book a few metres to the left, between another row of lockers. It was Peter and his friends. As usual. Peter and his little crowd of followers had made primary school, secondary school and the initial two years of sixth form a living hell for John, and there was no sign that anything would change, until John left for university in another city and Peter’s gang left school, most likely in order to face unemployment. Peter put his black cowboy boot on John’s chest. Like his chums, Peter had enthusiastically embraced the 50’s revival when it became fashionable, and they all tried really hard to look like exaggerated stereotypes of 50’s rockers. Most of them wore black leather jackets, unbleached denim jeans, and white T-shirts or plaid shirts, and they had put some gunk in their hair and combed it in a 1950’s style. Unlike some of his friends, Peter hadn’t been able to afford a leather jacket, so he wore a cheap denim jacket instead, and had sewn a Confederate flag on it, in the belief that ’that was very rock’n’roll’. ’Is that an army jersey, Swotter? Considering joining the forces?’ John felt embarrassed. If he kept silent, it would just go on. If he answered, the result would be identical. ’It is a hunter’s jersey.’ ’We didn’t know you were hunting! Did we, lads?’ ’I don’t, but I take photographs of rare birds. The jersey protects from cold weather.’ ’Scared of blood, I see. It wouldn’t be a good idea to join the army then? Would it, Swotter?’ ’I said it isn’t an army jersey. Ouch!’ Peter had moved his boot to John’s Adam’s apple. ’Listen very carefully. If I were you, I wouldn’t insult our brave boys in green by wearing that jersey, whatever you call it. Now take it off!’ ’But… Ouch!’ Peter increased the pressure on John’s Adam’s apple, then removed his foot, and came closer to John, sitting in a squatting position. Peter grabbed John’s jersey, and minuscule stains of spit rained on John’s face when Peter shouted. ’Now, you little pansy, you take that jersey off – either putting it in the cafeteria dust-bin or giving it to Anderson here. He deserves it better than you. Isn’t that right Anderson?’ Anderson, a blond football player, about the same height as John, but considerably more athletic, had been a henchman of Peter for years. He had a smug grin on his face. ’And what do you think you are doing, you friggin’ racist?’ Peter and his friends had to turn around. John rose from the floor, dusted away spots of sand from his clothes, and looked for his chemistry book. The newcomer who had spoken was Simon, the tall leftie intellectual from the other science class. Peter leered at him. It seemed that he had met Simon before. ’Don’t meddle, Simon. This isn’t your concern.’ ’Sure it is. Yesterday, you and your gang bullied Aram’s little brother and neighbour. But after what I can see today, you like to bully anyone, regardless of origin. Ridiculous greasers!’ John adjusted his eyeglasses, and now saw that Simon wasn’t alone. He had brought Aram, the brawny Syriac hockey guy, and Carl, the anti-racist skinhead, with him. Although Peter and his friends outnumbered Simon and his friends with five to three, Peter sized up his opponents a few seconds. Although not very muscular (but rather on the slim side), Simon was tall, and it was well-known at the school that he had practiced kung-fu, before his deep commitment in the Anarchist Student Society, Amnesty International, the local melocore club (and a handful of other associations) had limited the time available on exercise. Two years ago, Simon and John had served together in the Student Council, and John had appreciated Simon’s wit. Carl was shorter than Simon, but taller than Aram. He spent some time at the gym, but not as strictly and devotedly as Aram obviously did. His shaved head gave him an aggressive demeanour, and that impression was enhanced by the gauge in his earlobe, his snug fitting maroon polo shirt, the blue braces that contrasted well against the maroon background, the bleached jeans, and the extremely well-polished, heavy and steel-capped boots on his feet. His black Alpha bomber jacket was covered with patches and pins: ’Skinheads Against Racial Prejudice’, ’The Oppressed’, ’The Burial’, ’Operation Ivy’, ’FC St. Pauli’. He oozed of angry adolescent masculinity. Aram was of average height, but more broad-shouldered than any of the young men. He had an innately muscular constitution, and had been in good shape already during his time in the hockey team. When he left secondary school, and began his sixth form education, he had left the hockey team in order to take up martial arts of some sort, and also joined a gym. He now looked like a bodybuilder without any body fat, and moved like a tiger: A very broad shouldered tiger. During their entire time at school, Aram had always been so absorbed by exercise, that he never noticed if bullying occurred somewhere around him. If Aram had begun to spend time with a decent guy like Simon, it was probably a step in the right direction. After eyeing his opponents, Peter ordered his crowd to leave. ’Everything alright now?’, Simon asked. ’Yes. Thank you for helping me.’ ’To be honest, it was just a coincidence, but I am glad that we could be of assistance. Aram here is beginning to develop a social conscience by hanging with me and Carl, aren’t you?’ Aram mumbled something, and looked down into the floor. ’I’m late to the student newspaper meeting. Later.’ Simon disappeared around a corner. Carl had to leave his bomber jacket in his locker, and was on his way to a math lesson, but Aram was scheduled for the same chemistry class as John. They were late. ’You both know that late arrival will affect your grades. It will perhaps not concern you very much, John, but in your case, Aram, I would be worried.’ It was Mr. Gustavson, the chemistry teacher, known for his sardonic personality, and secretly nicknamed ’Snape’ among the students. ’As I said before you arrived, you have to team up in pairs and study how a primitive form of plastic is produced. It is a very simple example of how polymers behave.’ ’It seems like we have to lab together, today’, John said shyly. Aram didn’t speak very much while he assisted John, but, despite their late arrival, they were the first among the students to achieve a nice cylinder of plastic in a test tube in the end of the lesson. That gave Aram an idea. * * * It had been a few days earlier, during the Sunday church lunch at the Orthodox church of St. James’. ’Ameen. Moryo nqabel qurbonokh, wlan n’adar bashlawothokh.’ The last prayer in the extremely ancient Aramaic-speaking Christian liturgy ended, and the congregation left the room, kissing the Gospel Book at the entrance, and receiving pieces of non-consecrated bread. There were old ladies in mantillas, old men in their three-piece Sunday best, lots of parents with children, a dark-eyed and doe-eyed girl’s choir in choir dress, and a bunch of young men slightly younger or older than Aram. The last group was the most noisy one, and the lads were joking and playing with each other. Most of them wore jeans, expensive jerseys and shirts, but a few of the oldest ones wore suits, and some of the younger ones were dressed in tracksuit pants and hoodies. Most of them were dark haired and wore a lot of hair gel, but some were buzzcut, and two of them were redheaded. Many of them wore sturdy golden chains around their necks, from which crucifixes or the Syriac nationalist symbol of a feathered archer hang. Some of the attendees immediately left the parking lot, but most stayed inside for the Sunday church lunch. A buffet was prepared: Bulgur mixed with roasted noodles, tabbouleh – a salad of parsley, couscous, tomatoes, onions, garlic, mint leaves, lemon and olive oil – and several smaller bowls filled with falafel, dolma, chickpea sauce and eggplant sauce. Aram sat down with his mother, his uncle and his aunt. His mother was putting her folded mantilla in her purse, now when she no longer stood inside the consecrated room. ’Listen Aram’, uncle Benjamin began, ’there is a thing your mother and I have been talking about.’ Uh, uh. Now it comes again. Aram felt tired of this. His uncle meant well, but it felt like he was picking on him. ’Before your father died, I promised him, that I would help you become a doctor, just like your father and your grandfather. We have talked about this before: You have to achieve better grades, otherwise you will not be able to study medicine.’ A steel grey lady in her sixties approached the table. Mother and aunt Layla rose, gathered around her, and began to discuss with her in the old language. Aram wasn’t good at the old language. He was born in the new country, and spoke its language without any accent. ’Your mother and I are worried about you. The medical trade is a family tradition, but your grades have not been good the last years.’ ’But you are not a doctor. You own a grocery shop.’ ’This discussion is not about me, young man, but about you. If you begin medical studies, I promise to help you financially, but if you don’t, you can’t expect any money from me for university.’ * * * It was a day later. Aram and his girlfriend Emma entered the room for the history lesson. ’Hi, Emelie!’, Emma shouted, and claimed a chair close to her friend Emelie. Emma and Emelie didn’t at all have the same preferences when it came to style, but were friends anyhow. Emma was a blonde young woman with black high rise slim fit jeans and a yellow top which revealed some of her cleavage. Her shoes were yellow Converse. Emelie, on the other side, had dyed her hair black, and wore a black dress with a lot of lace. Around Emelie’s neck hang several pendants of different sorts: A cross, a star of David and a pentagram. She didn’t discriminate between religions, but it was also possible that she didn’t care very much for what the symbols signified to other people. Aram looked around, and when he found that the chair close to John was empty, he sat down beside John. ’Hello again. Do you mind if i sit here?’ They both unpacked their laptops, and had to end their chat, since their history teacher, Mr. Johanson, had begun to talk. Mr. Johanson was one of the oldest teachers at the school, and didn’t have many years left until retirement. He always wore black jeans, a sleeveless pullover and a tweed jacket. Unlike the younger male teachers, who dressed less strictly, he always had a tie knit around his neck. His hair was white and slightly receding. ’The world events of the 20th century, would probably had been very different, if World War One hadn’t occurred. The stern conditions of the peace treaty of 1919, caused many Germans and Austrians to feel disproportionally and unjustly punished, and that prepared the way for Hitler and the Second World War. For the British Empire, the end of the war initiated the slow devolvement of the empire: The Irish Free State was declared in 1922, and in 1931 dominions – such as Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Newfoundland, South Africa and the Irish Free State – were defined as ’completely self-governing’. Some sorts of constitutional reforms would probably have occurred in Russia anyhow, but not necessarily in the revolutionary Bolshevik way it now did: Don’t forget that the February Revolution in 1917 was about limiting the power of the Czar constitutionally, and preparing the way for free elections, general suffrage and civil liberties. The Bolsheviks didn’t grab the political power until October, and would probably not have reached the necessary level of initial popular support, if the Russian people hadn’t been exhausted by three years of warfare. The war also caused USA to change the way it behaved in international politics. During the 19th century the Monroe doctrine had isolated the US from international politics, but – with the exception of the Philippine-American War about a decade before World War One – the US had until then avoided entanglement in any conflict far beyond its own borders. From a certain point of view, the Philippine-American War and World War One, became templates for what later happened in Korea, Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan. The history of the 20th century is impossible to understand without World War One as the background. When we now begin to look closer…’ John felt good sitting so close to the big and warm lump of muscles. John hadn’t thought much about it before, but became now aware of the warm brown colour of Aram’s eyes, like brown gemstones reflecting a golden light. Aram emitted a nice scent of some sort of anti-perspirant, but probably not an expensive one. The presence of Aram made him feel comforted and protected. Aram had never or seldom preferred to sit beside John before, so this was something new. The lesson had ended. ’John, you are really smart. Would you possibly help me with homework? I want to get better test results, and who better than you?’ ’We could have begun this years ago, if you just had asked. Which day would be best for you? I often go by bus to Willow Lake in Thursdays. Wildlife photography, you know. And I suppose you exercise very often. Which day would be best for you?’ They agreed to keep Tuesdays open for study together. Emma approached them. ’You must hear this, Aram! Emelie has found such a cute shop with books and magic candles and stuff, and I could probably have my horoscope done. Isn’t it amazing? You must follow me and Emelie to that shop after school!’ * * * The following afternoon, Emelie, Emma and Aram got on the tram, and went to a picturesque part of the city Aram seldom visited. They left the tram at a stop just outside a Neo-gothic church building called Holy Trinity, and then followed a narrow and meandering, cobblestone paved alley on their way to the shop Emelie had mentioned. The houses were small and old here, but some of them seemed to have been restored recently, as an effect of ongoing gentrification. Withered roses and dark green ivy covered some of the exteriors. They passed by a tailor’s shop, a vegetarian restaurant, a dentist’s clinic and a former – now closed – bicycle workshop. A few of the buildings seemed to have been turned into homes very recently – which was easily recognised through the fresh plaster in yellow, lavender or dove blue colours, but other buildings were still shabby, some of them derelict. ’Here it is.’, Emelie announced. Aram got a first impression of the shop. He had definitely not seen it before. Grey stairs of stone led downwards to a door under street level. Two rather small shop-windows before his knees announced: Madame Cremorna. Books. Herbs. Readings. It felt a little bit spooky, but Emelie enthusiastically led them downstairs, and opened the door. A bell tinkled. The first thing that he noticed was the scent. The fragrance of many sorts of herbs and incenses mixed with each other. He felt awkward again. This wasn’t the sort of place a masculine guy like himself was expected to frequent. Wasn’t there something slightly feminine or gay about this scent? He considered to leave immediately, but that could make Emma mad at him. He didn’t want that. The second thing he noticed was the broad mix of things in the room. This was not just a book shop. The books were there, for sure – he saw a rotating stand with them: How To Earn Money By Positive Thinking. The Dolphins Speak: Telepathic Messages From Our Cousins In The Sea. The New Age Of The Flying Saucers. It could have been an ordinary New Age shop, but he could also see tin boxes with herbs, packets of soap or dry foodstuff with Spanish labels, shelves with incense sticks and small jars with the sort of incense grains he was able to recognise from church. His association to church was increased, when he found shelves carrying a large number of glass encased novena candles with stickers depicting saints. Some of them he could recognise, but, with his family background, he was more familiar with Eastern saints than Western, and the identity of some Western saints on the candles were undecipherable. The cash register stood upon a glass desk. Inside the desk he could see decks of cards in many shapes. He hadn’t seen any cards like these before. ’How do you play poker with these?’, he asked Emelie. ’They are not for poker, stupid.’, she answered, ’They are divination decks, for reading the future’. ’I am not sure I believe in that.’, Aram replied. Just now he wasn’t sure exactly what he believed. There was an eerie feeling in the shop. He wanted to get out. ’You are free to believe in anything you want. We are all responsible for how we use our freedom, and it is unwise to go against your own conscience.’ The alto voice vibrated with a rich timbre. It belonged to a woman in her early sixties. She had probably looked good during her younger days, and she obviously still cared about her appearance. Her hair was black, without any traces of silver in it yet, and she was dressed in a rust-coloured dress and a dark grey vest of wool. Around her neck hang a tin pendant depicting a very complicated geometrical pattern. In her younger days, she could have been a hippie. ’I’m sorry lady, but I can’t believe in telepathic dolphins and flying saucers.’ Aram waved in the direction of the rotating book stand. ’To be honest, I am not at all impressed by these books myself, but some of my customers ask for them, so I sell them. It pays the rent.’ There was a slight, possibly American-English, accent when she spoke, but very faint. ’So you don’t believe in the supernatural, yourself?’ ’Oh. I do! But that depends on what you call supernatural. If you mean telepathic dolphins, saucers, physical trolls or god-kings inside a hollow Earth, I do not believe in the supernatural.’ Emelie was studying the card decks inside the glass desk, but Emma stood by Aram’s side, hugging his arm. ’You are into sports, I suppose?’, the shop keeper asked him. ’Aram was a hockey player for many years.’, Emma answered proudly. ’And now I work out and practice martial arts.’, Aram continued. ’Then the psychology of sport can’t be unknown for you.’, Madame Cremorna said, ’And you surely must have experienced, how your own mind affects your physical achievements?’ ’Well. Yes. But that’s not supernatural.’ ’It is anyhow a part of scientific reality which borders to the supernatural – that is, supernatural in the sense I use the word.’ Aram was on his way to answer, but the shop keeper continued: ’And you belong perhaps to the Assyrian Church?’ Aram smiled: ’Close enough, but you were wrong there: I belong to the Syriac Orthodox Church. The Assyrians are our cousins.’ ’And you believe in God? And in angels? And in saints?’ ’Well. Yes, I do.’ ’The supernatural I believe in is about God, about angels, about saints, but also about sports psychology. It is admittedly not a complete description of what I do – far from it – but it seems like we are able to agree about a major part of it, anyhow.’ She was silent a few seconds. ’And what are you looking for? Books? Devotionals? Cards? A horoscope? Or do you want me to use magic for some purpose?’ ’We are just looking. Emelie told us about your shop, and it is just adorable’, Emma answered, ’but it looks much more Catholic than the other New Age shop on the other side the canal.’ Madame Cremorna smiled. ’It’s perhaps because it is not a New Age shop. Not in the general sense. It is inspired by botanicas of the sort common in Florida, where I grew up. We had a lot of Cubans and Puertoricans there.’ ’Have you lived in this part of the world for a long time?’ ’Quite a long time. Yes. My former boyfriend thought it was a good idea to move to Northern Europe a few years before the end of the Vietnam War.’ Emma continued to chat with the shop keeper for several minutes. Emelie still looked at the decks. Aram began to wander around in the shop. A square diagram with twenty-three arcane symbols hang on a wall. Bookshelves contained titles such as Three Books on Occult Philosophy, The Enchiridion, Selected prayers by Allan Kardec, and The Long-Lost Friend. A burgundy-coloured curtain covered door opening to an inner room. Curiously, Aram peeked inside. Several small tables were pushed up against the walls, covered with cloths in different colours. Candles were lit, scented in several different ways. The air was sweet and heavy. ’Uh oh. The inner sanctum is only open for some customers.’, Madame Cremorna said, where she stood behind his back. Aram blushed. ’I didn’t mean to do something wrong. Sorry, lady.’ When they left the shop, Emelie brought a recently bought tarot deck, and Emma carried a folder with her personal horoscope. * * * It was two days later. The bell tinkled in the usual way, when the door to the shop opened and closed. ’And what do you want, young man?’, she asked. ’I haven’t done well in my exams. I want to be sure my grades are good when I finish Sixth Form.’, Aram said. ’And when is that? If I hadn’t first met you with that young gothic girl and her friend, I would have guessed that you were older than a Sixth Form student.’ She eyed him knowingly. ’The last semester ends in June next year.’ Her face expressed mixed emotions: Pity, astonishment and a slight amount of aunt-like cunningness. ’Magic works normally through natural means, and natural means works slowly. A lesser working could have been enough, if you had asked me a year ago, and backed the magic up with real effort in class. But now, with just eight months…’ She didn’t end her sentence. There was a sad expression in Aram’s eyes, reminiscent of a very large, but very young and sad, puppy. The element of pity in Madame Cremorna’s eyes became more prominent. ’Let us discuss natural means first. You would probably learn more, if you do homework together with someone in your class, who’s got a talent for study.’ ’I already do.’ Aram told Madame Cremorna all about John. ’You have got a good new friend in him. Be nice to him.’, Madame Cremorna said. ’Homework with John helps, but not enough, and not fast enough. And I wish I could make mother and my uncle proud. But if you can’t help me…’ ’If something of what I do works, it is not because I have helped you, but because God has answered the prayers of several beings. Some call it magic, but ultimately all things and events comes from The Supreme Being anyhow. The ways and the means and the chains of events may vary, however. Or so is the way I see it.’ ’But you said, that I should have asked a year ago?’ ’I said, that a lesser working could have been enough then. With only eight months until graduation, I have to do a greater working, but only if you are ready to pay the price.’ ’I don’t own very much, but…’ ’I don’t talk about money. I talk about the willingness to choose talent for study before anything else. Wait. Don’t say anything yet. I will give you a reading.’ ’A reading?’ ’Just relax.’ She opened a purple bag of velvet, laid a pack of cards on the table, and mumbled a prayer. Aram couldn’t hear the words. She let him shuffle the cards, and then put three cards on the table cloth. The first card depicted a knight in armour, sitting on a horse. The second card depicted an old man with a beard, clothed in some sort of mediaeval brown gown, holding a staff with a snake – similar to the symbol sometimes used by hospitals and chemists – and holding a lantern in the other hand. By his feet lay a scythe and a hourglass. Far away, the presence of an owl could be distantly hinted at. The third card depicted a young man in renaissance clothes, carrying a round plate, smaller than a shield, but larger than a coin. From his bag a scroll and a quill pen peeked out. ’Hmm…’ Madame Cremorna didn’t say much for a while. Suddenly, she gathered all the cards into the deck again, and began shuffling. She laid the deck on the cloth, and pushed it over the table. ’Here. Shuffle, and think intensely about your friend John.’ Aram did what he was told to do, and gave her the deck again. ’That was all for today. Come back tomorrow afternoon, and I will tell you if I have found a way to help you.’ Aram felt a little bit disappointed. It had been stupid of him to come here, to begin with. He shrugged and left. When he had left, Madame Cremorna again lay three cards on the table. She was rather surprised to find the knight and the squire from the last reading come up again, but this time with reversed places: The squire with the plate to the left, and the knight with a sword to the right. The card in the middle was not the same. Where the card with the old bearded man had laid a few minutes ago, now lay a card depicting a half naked and extremely muscular man clothed in the skin rug of a lion. He had left his heavy club on the ground, and was breaking a stone pillar in two halves. Madame Cremorna remained almost expressionless, but one of her eyebrows twitched. She had got an idea. When Aram returned the next afternoon, he expected bad news. The shop keeper seemed, however, to be in a good mood, although perhaps mixed with an amount of harshness. She put two class encased candles on the desk. ’You are young. I will not let you pay the full price I charge an adult with full time salary. But you must be aware of the consequences of your request. Are you willing to let your friend become less talented, while you increase your own study results?’ ’Isn’t that black magic?’ Aram felt a chill on his back. He would probably not have asked for this, to begin with. ’I never accept black workings. I accept grey ones, however. Most human wishes rests in the grey area. The born-again nonconformist who prays to God for promotion at work, the churchman praying for a happy marriage, the white light Neo-pagan sending away a spell for fair weather at the picnic – all their wishes are tainted by a certain amount of selfishness. And so is yours. All of them are mixed with good intentions. And so is yours.’ ’But I can’t rob John of his intelligence. It is not fair.’ ’That depends. A greater working will affect reality on a deeper plane. In a sense, you will have switched – or better, mixed – destinies with each other. I have tried to conjure good destines over both of you, but you will still have to pay the price of tampering with destinies.’ ’Not my soul?’, Aram asked bleakly. ’Then I refuse.’ ’No, not your soul. I do not dabble in diabolism. Actually, I have fought against the minions of darkness on several occasions. But a greater working, affecting the threads of destiny, will take its toll from the one who ordered it, quite soon after the commencement. We are all responsible for our actions. Do you really want a talent for study?’ The question hung in the air for a moment. It cannot have been for a longer time than a second or two, but for Aram it felt like time stood still, like if a gigantic pendulum in an ancient clockwork was swinging over his head. It was still time to thank her for her willingness to help, but refuse to go further. ’Yes. I really want it. Just be sure that John will be happy.’ ’No-one can be one hundred percent sure, but I have reason to believe that he will enjoy the turn of events that will unfold, as well.’ ’Ooo-key? Well, then I suppose there will be no problem? What are the candles for?’ She pointed at one of the candles. It had a card on it, depicting a man in a bishop’s mitre, writing on parchment with a quill. He was surrounded by bookshelves. ’This is St. Isidore of Seville. You will take this home, and burn it nine consecutive Wednesdays until it is all burned away. St. Isidore wrote one of the first encyclopaedias in the world, and was recently designated the patron saint of internet.’ She pointed at the other candle. The card on it depicted a broad shouldered and bearded giant carrying the infant Jesus on his shoulder. ’This is St. Christopher. In the legend he was a giant who converted to Christianity. In reality, we don’t know very much about him, but the moral of the legend is edifying anyhow.’ ’What am I supposed to do with that candle?’ ’Give it to your friend John. If he don’t want to burn it every day or night, let him burn it whenever he likes. Tuesdays would be good, however.’ * * * It was Tuesday again. According to their new habit, John was helping Aram to study. ’And what am I supposed to do with this?’, John asked, curiously holding the glass encased prayer candle. ’You know that I am an Agnostic, don’t you?’ ’Some people burn it because they like how it looks or because they like the scent. It is just one month left until Advent, isn’t it?’ Shall I tell him about it? Aram thought intensely, and felt divided. To tell him the truth. But if he became angry and refused to help anymore at study time together? John was helpful. It would be awful if something terrible happened to him. But Madame Cremorna had said that he would enjoy what was happening, whatever that was. ’But isn’t it a little bit girlish, don’t you think?’ ’Not among my relatives. It is quite common that lads wear saint pendants, for instance.’ ’Yes. Now when you mention it, I have seen some of your martial art friends wearing rosaries, and I can’t accuse them for being girlish.’ The tension disappeared when Aram began to laugh. ’No, you can’t. At least not if you don’t take into account the time they spend in the bathroom, but so do I.’ ’Well, just as a sign of my gratitude for your gesture…’ John lit the candle, and then changed the subject. ’I have been thinking’, John said, ’about exercise.’ Aram was relieved that the subject had changed: ’What about exercise? You may be good at integral calculus and derivate – I have problem understanding what the bloody words mean – but I know a lot about exercise. Ask whatever you wish.’ ’To be honest: I think it is rather – ehrm.’ John’s cheeks and ears became more red than usual. ’I mean, I think it is cool to have muscles, even if it is hard to admit.’ ’It is not something to be shy about, little buddy. Many men like to be beefy. I guess most men would like to be built, even if not everyone like to admit it. Could you imagine Snape lifting weights?’ It was not only Aram’s joke about the acerbic chemistry teacher, but also his facial expression, which helped John to explode with laughter. It also shattered John’s embarrassment. ’Could you teach me how to work out at the gym, if I help you with homework?’ ’Fair enough. I sometimes feel stupid with you. At the gym I will be the teacher.’ Aram proudly flexed his right biceps, and felt cocky when he saw how John’s eyes involuntarily became wider. ’You like what you see?’ John suddenly looked shy again. Aram felt protective. John was so short and thin. ’Want to feel that bicep? Don’t be afraid. I’m not teasing you. It is fun for me to show my results.’ Shyly, John laid his palm over Aram’s biceps, and pressed carefully. ’Harder!’, Aram encouraged. John pressed harder. Aram’s biceps was of the size and density of a croquet-ball, and it rested on a really big triceps. John felt awkward again. His dick was growing and hardening. He sat down on the bed, and hoped that Aram hadn’t noticed. ’Which gym would be good for me?’ ’Why don’t you follow me to the one I workout at?’ ’Aren’t there a lot of big guys there? And doesn’t Peter and his crew hang out there?’ ’Peter is lazy at the gym, and I haven’t seen any of his friends there. Anderson is preoccupied with football, and the others spend their time with driving lessons, booze and grass. They aren’t very healthy, if you ask me. And I will be with you there. If Peter mess with you, I will have a serious conversation with him. He better stay away. The big guys at the gym are alright. Some of them like to give advice. Carl would probably join us at some times.’ * * * John stood before the desk at the gym, and felt shy. A very fit, but not gigantic, trainer manned the desk, dressed in a snug red T-shirt with the gym’s logotype on its chest. ’I’m waiting for a friend.’, John explained apologetically. He peeked into a folder about prices, and found a one-year membership mandatory. In September next year, he would most probably study at university in another city, and the last two months of a one-year membership would be wasted. Aram came in through the door, and began discussing membership and prices with the trainer and John, and, as a result, John got a deal, which meant, that he only had to pay for ten months. They entered the locker room, changed clothes, and Aram began to introduce John to the machines and weightroom. ’For anyone experienced, free weights are more important than machines. For a beginner, machines may have a purpose, especially for avoiding injuries. Look, for instance, on this one…’ One and a half hour later, John laid on the floor in the locker room. He had Aram’s towel under his head, and rested his legs on a bench, in order to let blood return to his head. He dripped of sweat, and felt nauseous. Aram returned from the loo with a paper towel dipped in cold water, and laid it on John’s forehead. ’I am sorry little buddy. I didn’t know where your limits were. I didn’t mean to exhaust you that much the first time.’ ’It’s not your fault. How could you know?’ * * * John and Aram had developed a habit of visiting Carl’s family on Sunday afternoons and evenings. Carl often spent Fridays and Saturdays with a bunch of SHARPs from the other side of the city, but Sundays were an opportunity for them to meet outside the gym and watch films together in Carl’s room. They all sat on Carl’s bed, with their backs against the wall. They had watched ’Captain America’ and ’Elysium’, and were now halfway into the Dwayne Johnson version of ’Hercules’. ’Look at all that muscle!’, Carl exclaimed impressed, for the third time during the evening. Aram poked him with his elbow: ’Do you know how gay you sound, Carl?’ ’Who you calling gay?’, Carl answered, and threw himself over Aram, playfully and boisterously tickling him. John bounced up in the air before landing back on the bedspread, but Aram and Carl fell to the floor, laughing and wrestling. It ended with Aram sitting on Carl’s back, holding his arm at an uncomfortable angle. * * * ’Grandmother arrives tomorrow. Will you eat dinner with the entire family?’, John’s mother – who worked with care of aged people – asked him the day before Halloween. ’I will stay home on All Saints, but Emelie has invited me to a Halloween party tomorrow night.’, John answered. ’I’m glad that you leave home more often, nowadays. But you know what grandmother will say.’ ’That borrowings of ghosts and pumpkins from the Americans will commercialise and destroy any decorous celebration of All Saints.’ John and his mother looked silently at each other with giddy looks, and both said in unison: ’What would grandfather say, if he had been alive?’ They laughed. John’s grandmother was not a particularly religious person, and, just as most of their relatives, she unreflectedly mixed Agnosticism with Lutheran Christianity, but she was fond of family traditions, and decorated her home zealously at Advent, Christmas, Easter, May Day and Midsummer, just as she had done as a young Mum in the 1960’s, and she enthusiastically invited friends and relatives to annual crayfish-parties and fermented-herring-dinners when summer turned into autumn. The recent introduction of masquerades at Halloween hadn’t found any approval from the old lady, since she thought that such merriment would distract from the solemn commemoration of the departed. She had decorated her own parents’ tomb today, before travelling to her only daughter and her family. Unlike most persons of her grandchildrens’ generation, his grandmother celebrated her nameday, and since her name was Inga-Birgitta, she celebrated both the seventh and the twenty-fifth of October. While Aram, Carl and John lived in council flats in grey five-storied concrete buildings built in the 1970’s (and Peter lived in a council flat from the late 1950s), Simon, Emma and Emelie lived in a residential garden suburb nearby, where hedges and fences kept one-family houses of mixed age (some of them as old as the 1920’s) apart. A very busy road marked the border between the two areas, but narrow asphalt-coated paths, for bicycles and pedestrians, ran in graffiti-painted tunnels under the road at two different points, connecting these two areas. John met Aram and Carl close to the nearby tunnel. John was dressed in a black suit he had bought half a year ago, when he attended the Confirmation of a cousin. John had put white theatre grease-paint in his face, and fastened vampire teeth on his eye-teeth. ’Greetings, children of the night!’ Aram and Carl smiled. Carl was dressed in camo trousers, but wore the same boots as usual. He was dressed in a black NATO jersey and some sort of combat harness. ’What is that supposed to mean, besides a soldier in general?’ ’Don’t you see? I’m G.I. Joe!’ ’I didn’t watch that film.’ ’You didn’t? It’s awesome! Let’s watch it on Sunday!’ Aram was green painted in his face, and dressed in a thick woolen overcoat. ’And you? That isn’t obvious… unless…’ Aram opened his coat. He didn’t wear any shirt, despite the cold autumnal weather. His entire torso was painted in bright green, and his trousers were purple. ’That’s hilarious! The Hulk! And it is convincing, too.’ ’You are much better than me with words, but I thank you for the compliments.’ ’Than I am’, John absentmindedly corrected Aram. The night was cold and filled with mist, but they found Emelie’s house without any problems. The house was full of very young adults, and it turned out that Emelie’s parents attended a dinner somewhere else that evening. The night went on rather well. The punchbowl probably contained something persons of their age weren’t officially supposed to drink for another two years, but, since the girls in Emelie’s circle of friends were well-behaved, and since most of the boys didn’t want to spoil the hard earned results of their physical exercise, utterly few of them drank too much. Emelie wasn’t known for having patience with fools, and had planned her guest list carefully, weeding out known drunkards. Parties with her classmates and parallel classes were otherwise known to be rather wet. Emelie had succeeded in her attempt to look like Morticia Adams. Emma was clothed in a furry pink rabbit suit, and only her face was visible. Several of the girls were dressed for an ordinary party, and qualified for a masquerade just by wearing pointy witches’ hats. John wasn’t the only vampire among the young men. A few of the guest looked like characters from animes or computer games. Emma seemed disappointed of Emelie’s choice of music: ’Emelie! Now we have listened to Fields of the Nephilim for half an hour. Don’t you have any tunes by Justin Bieber or One Direction?’ ’Are you kidding? Personally, I think it would spoil the Halloween mood, but if you wish to log into your own Spotify account, you are welcome to do so. You know where the computer is, but don’t expect me to tolerate your unbearable music for very long.’ On his way home, John felt awkward and slightly flattered. One of the lightbulbs had broken, and Emelie suffered from dizziness. She had asked John for help. When he stood at a chair, changing the lightbulb, his shirt had left the inside of his trousers and revealed his belly. Emelie had began to giggle nervously, and called after Emma. John didn’t understand why, and felt insulted. ’Please, John. Show us your abs again.’ ’My abs? What are you talking about? You know that I don’t…’ Giggling, Emelie had pinched the shirt fabric and revealed his abs again. His abs? He didn’t… He DID? ’Cool’, Emma said. ’Exercise suits you.’ * * * An Advent wreath stood on the kitchen table, burning with two lit candles and two unlit ones. It was dark outside the window, and, since the first snow had melted away, there was nothing to lighten the winter night up. John stood at a kitchen desk, taking notes of how much various foodstuffs weighed. That would simplify the composition of gym friendly recipes in the future. His mother entered the kitchen, and began to heat a small amount of mulled wine on the electric stove. ’I received phone calls from your chemistry teacher and your biology teacher today. Your physics teacher called yesterday.’ ’Yes?’ ’They are worried about you. Since you started two and a half year ago, they have regarded you as very talented in natural science, but recently your results have deteriorated. They wanted me to talk to you about it.’ ’Nothing is wrong. I just performed unusually bad in a couple of tests the last weeks.’ The mulled wine had reached a desired temperature. She poured some of the content in a mug. ’Do you want some? It is the soft drink version, so you don’t have to worry. It’s cold outside, so I needed something to drive away the chill in my bones.’ ’No, thanks. I avoid sugar as well.’ ’John, I don’t disapprove that you exercise. It seems to be healthy for you, and I am happy that you have a lot more friends now than you had before. But don’t you think you take it a little too far? Why don’t you play floorball or badminton, or jog or swim, or any other more normal sport? It can’t be good for you, to be so obsessed with what you eat. Are you going to eat like that way during Christmas as well? What will grandmother say?’ ’What would grandfather say, if he had been alive?’ ’This is not something to joke about. I’m afraid that your exercise will affect your school results. And I have read about body dysmorphia and eating disorders in the newspapers. Don’t you understand that I am worried about you? What will happen to your plans to become a physician, a biochemist or a physicist, if you let exercise distract you from studies?’ ’YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING!’, John shouted, left the kitchen, took his training bag and closed the door with a bang. His teenage anger went rampant through his mind and body: Thoughts going in a loop, his emotions boiling, his blood pressure pounding, his body temperature steaming. He loosened the wooly scarf and opened the closed zipper of his large jacket. The staff had left the gym, and the doors were closed, but members were given a key tag that unlocked the door at night. The scent of steel corroding under the influence of sweat. The scent of rubber mats. Furiously, he worked out in the almost empty gym: Only two or three other members exercised this late. It felt much better afterwards. The machines, the barbells, the dumbbells: They had helped him to release his irritation, and he now felt calm, content and harmonious. Freshly showered. Meanwhile he had been indoors at the gym, the temperature had dropped, and it had began to snow. The chill had some bite. On his way home, he unexpectedly met Carl, who was on his way home from something else: It had something to do with music. They talked. About parents and other things. Carl. Reliable Carl: Hard as nails, incredibly funny, and a kind friend to his friends. ’Ah. Come here, mate. It will be better tomorrow.’ They exchanged a hug. A brotherly hug. A rather long brotherly hug. Carl’s polo shirt was warm of his body heat. Carl’s glistening, black synthetic bomber jacket was cold of the winter temperatures. The scents from their different anti-perspirants mixed in the cool night air. A brotherly hug. Carl patted John at the back. ’It will probably be better tomorrow.’ * * * Emma sat in her sofa. Aram sat in the same armchair he had sat so many times before. A lit Advent star hung in the window, and spread a soft glow in the living room. From windows on the other side the street other electric Advent stars shone back. Emma was finishing her explanation: ’It isn’t you, it is me. I am not able to appreciate what you speak about. I miss the old Aram from when we first met: My teddy bear. My kind puppy with hockey butt. I am not interested in nuclear science, new medicines or what’s going on in parts of the world I don’t even know where they are. We have nothing in common anymore, if we ever had. I’m sorry. I like you as a friend, but …’ Her lip began to tremble. Aram hug her sadly, carefully and more softly than usual. ’I’m sorry, but I suppose that I understand…’ * * * Madame Cremorna had closed her shop at 7 p.m. as usual. Since the supermarkets kept open until 9 or 10 p.m. she had lots of time to buy the food and Christmas decorations necessary. She returned to her shop, in order to do some work. Supernatural work. She lived in an old-fashioned flat upstairs, which she had bought several years ago, before the prices had begun to rise ridiculously. Her phone rang. ’Madame Cremorna. … O hello Stephen! How is life in New York? I don’t even know what time it is in your time zone. … It is? … Aha. … A disturbance? … Oh, yes, I am up to a major working, but it is far from world-shattering, you know. Professional secrecy, so I can’t say anything, but I can assure you that it is just about the private life of two persons and their surroundings. It is not like I am about to open a gate for Dormammu or Nergal, if you know my drift. … Not funny? I see. … You are? London? Why? … But what brings you and John to this corner of the world? … No? You are kidding? … Yes, of course. Do you have any dietary restrictions before that working? … No. … No, it is no problem at all: I have a lot of vegetarian Christmas dishes. … Pardon? … No, it doesn’t surprise me that John isn’t picky. If he would like it, I could probably find a christmas pudding and a turkey for him God knows where, but you have to know that the locals prefer ham, meatballs, cabbage and vanilla rice pudding at this time of the year. And herring. Lots of herring. Remind me to put an ash tray in my living room while you stay. … Oh yes. … No, no problem at all. Take care, and give me a call when you think you will stop by.’ She hang up and washed her hands, first in running water and a non-perfumed soap, then in Florida Water. She sprinkled herself with holy water, went before her private shrine and lit both the altar candles and the incense. The air in the room felt thicker now, and the room felt connected to the rest of the world and to the unseen aspects of reality. Her highly trained senses could feel the presence of God, of spirits of many sorts, and of unseen subtle influences stretching themselves out from the room as a cobweb of spiritual light. ’Almighty and everlasting God, who harkened to the prayers of Moses in the wilderness, when he, assisted of Aaron and Hur, prayed for victory against the Amalekites, hear me…’ After a long prayer she stretched her hands out over fragments of candle wax she had removed from a candle, in order to fill it with scented oil. ’O God of my fathers, and Lord of Mercy, who hast made all things with thy word, and ordained man through thy wisdom, that he should have dominion over the creatures which thou hast made, and order the world according to equity and righteousness, and execute judgment with an upright heart: Give me wisdom, that sitteth by thy throne; and reject me not from among thy children…’ Then she did the same to fragments from another candle: ’It is God, that girdeth me with strength of war: and maketh my way perfect. He maketh my feet like harts’ feet: and setteth me up on high. He teacheth mine hands to fight: and mine arms shall break even a bow of steel…’ She had repeated this for weeks now. Divine Spirit was answering. The wheels of the invisible and incomprehensible world machinery turned, and unseen chains of causes and effects slowly turned the former reality into something slightly, slightly different. * * * Chapter two is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/7140-with-a-little-help-from-magic-chapter-two/
  13. ZFerrari

    no sex Ethan...

    You know, you would think since your best friend is this muscular kid, life would be easier. But not for good ole Randy. Yes my name is Randy and my best friend is a muscular arrogant guy for his age. This kid is only 17. Ethan is a different breed I tell you. He apparently has this hereditary ability to grow his muscles to his max ability. If he wants grow bigger he has to workout more to reach another limit. I would call complete bullshit if I didnt see this at the pool the other day. However I do call bullshit that its hereditary. Hell if i know it was probably from the wishirite. But thats a myth. We were at the pool with Rachel, Jacob and Don. He has this huge crush on Rachel, and I can't be mad at him. This blonde chick is cute. I guess he wanted to surprise her. And wanted everybody else to see him destroy don since nobody knew about his power but me. Don was already muscular but he got that naturally. Ethan hates not being the only muscular one in our friend circle, thats why he doesn't like don. I respect don though, he's not arrogant but has a lil bit of bitch tendencies. Rachel was on the side laying on a chair when Ethan walked up. I'm in the pool wrestling with Jacob. I look over, to see Rachel now talking to Ethan. He's making her laugh. "My boy" I thought to myself smiling. That distraction gave Jacob the perfect time to drag me under the water. Don comes out the bathroom to see them talking. He calmly walks over to Ethan, taps him on the shoulder and punches him off the chair. I'm sorry I saw that. I couldnt help but laugh. But that doesn't really sit well with Ethan. "Hey asshole!" Ethan yells. Don just ignores him. "Dickhead!!" Ethan yells. Don looks at him and does the most disrespectful thing. He picks Ethan up and Yeets him into the pool, on tol of Jacob. I couldnt help but laugh even harder, cuz that shit was hilarious. Ethan and jacob rise back above the water, and Ethan's death stare shuts me up. He then grins, and winks at me. Thats a sign cuz I know whats about to happen Rachel doesn't know what to make of the situation she just saw. She just sat there with her mouth open. "Hey don" Ethan says with an evil smirk on his face. Don turns around to Ethan flexing both his biceps. "Hope your ready for a show." Don gives this confused look on what's he supposed to be seeing. Don saw 2 arms built like walking sticks. He assert dominance by flexing his own biceps. Veins run all over his 18 inch biceps. His face smiling from flexing as hard as he could, but quickly relxaxed into a shocked face as he saw Ethan's biceps slowly growing. Growing passing 16 inches and keeps going. 17, 18, 19 inches surpassing both Don and his own personal record and 19 inches and finally stops at 20 inches. Don now dumbfounded relazes his whole body and stares. Ethan now laughing grows,mor eof his body. Starting with the forearms to match his biceps. Veins running everywhere around his arms. Then his lats and pecs. His pecs start growing out from his chest. His chest expands and contracts from his breathing. His stomach contracts then 1 by 1 each ab pops in you can hear pop after pop when each an pops in. Ethan at this is now laughing sinisterly, while Jacob Don and Rachel are staring at them now in a huddle. I'm still in the pool shaling my head wondering whats gonna happen when he's done. His abs now form a firm six pack running with veins. His legs now explode with power, growing out to form bodybuilder legs. All his muscles are now bulging with power. To intimidate Don, he hits a most muscukar and his muscles now explode tremendously. "Did y'all enjoy?" Erhan asked. Rachel and Jacob claps. Don looks at me and says "Your boy is a freak." I nod and say "I know". Before Don can turn back around, Ethan picks Don up with one hand, punches him with the other hand and Yeets him into the pool landing next to me. After a couple seconds, Don rises and with a bloody nose and says "I'm gonna beat your Ass one day" Ethan chuckles, flexes his pecs, and with an evil smile he says this: "Doubtful"
  14. Bigconnorfan

    no sex Nuevo hermanito

    Todo empezó cuando terminé el colegio. Decidido a seguir con mis estudios pero sin ninguna universidad lo suficientemente buena para hacerlo, tuve que mudarme a la capital del país. Solo. Sin mi familia ni mis amigos. Pero lo hice. Debido a mis excelentes notas durante mi secundaria, conseguí una beca en una prestigiosa universidad conocida tanto por su excelencia académica como deportiva. En un país como el nuestro, ambas sumamente importantes. La beca consistía en que ellos me pagaban todo, incluso el alojamiento y la alimentación, lo que sí, iba a compartir departamento con dos estudiantes más, pero dije que más da, nada puede salir mal. Era un lunes de principios de marzo y todavía era verano cuando llegué a la gran ciudad. Fui directo al campus de la universidad donde me habían dicho que me explicarían mejor como sería el sistema de la beca. Llegué a la universidad y no lo podía creer. Era otra ciudad adentro de la ciudad. El parque era inmenso y habían varios edificios dentro de este donde debían de estar las clases y las instalaciones. Fui al edificio principal y hablé con la señora de admisiones. Estuve allí una hora y un poco más que fue todo lo que tardó en explicarme todo el sistema de las clases, horarios, lugares y mi departamento. Me dijo que lo compartiría con unos tales Tomás y Rodrigo Morrudos. Mellizos. Que coincidencia pensé. Le agradecí a la señora por tomarse su tiempo y luego de explicarme como llegar al departamento, que por suerte estaba dentro del campus, partí con mi valija y bolso listo para desempacar y comenzar esta aventura. Caminando por el parque me di cuenta de algo. Todos eran muy altos. De por sí no soy una persona alta, y tampoco grandote, mas bien la gente me definiría chiquito. Por ahi escuálido algunos con peor humor, pero nunca había sido un tema serio en mi vida. Tenía 18 años y medía 1,68 cm y pesaba unos 60 kilos. No esta tan tan mal, eso pensaba yo. Llegué al edificio y era enorme. Entré y había mucho alboroto de gente. Todos de mi edad o un poco más grandes buscando sus deptos y acomodándose. Claro eran los primeros días del año. Subí cuatro pisos por la escalera, la fila del ascensor era muy larga, y llegué a mi piso. Busqué el numero 403 e introduje la llave que me habían dado. Abrí la puerta y lo primero que sentí fue un olor masculino, a macho. Entré y vi que era un depto bastante chico, pero muy util. Tenía una pequeña cocina con microondas incluido, en esta misma una mesa con cuatro sillas, una heladera y la pileta con la canilla para lavar los platos. Una puerta abría a un pequeño baño con inodoro, bidet y ducha, y la otra puerta restante llevaba a mi cuarto. Al abrir la puerta me corregí diciendo nuestro cuarto. Había una cama cucheta y otra cama. La cama individual estaba tomada por un bolso grande y la cama superior de la cucheta lo mismo. Puse mi bolso en la cama que quedaba, la de abajo. Me di cuenta que no había tanto espacio entre esta y el colchón arriba mío pero no me quedaba otra. Había llegado tarde. Me senté en mi cama y me puse a desempacar. Había un ropero con tres secciones bien divididas para cada uno, un alivio. Mientras que hacía esto vi que habían unas zapatillas muy grandes en el piso. Agarré una y me fije el talle. Talle 50, no lo podía creer. Yo calzo 39 tan solo. El pie de ese ser humano debe ser inmenso. De curioso lo olí al zapato. Sentí algo y lo dejé en el piso donde estaba. Después de empacar fui a la cocinacomedor que era nuestro depto y me senté en el sillon que olvide mencionar, grande pero no se si para tres personas, y me puse a mirar television. Debían de ser las 7 de la tarde y me empecé a adormecer... Me desperté de golpe por el ruido de unos pasos pesados en el pasillo de afuera. Escuché dos voces. Graves. Muy graves. Retumbaban y las vibraciones entraban al depto. Hablaban de un entrenamiento. Y de que iban a estar con un compañero de cuarto. De repente se abrió la puerta. Del marco no provino nada de luz. Solo oscuridad. Se agachó y puso de costado para pasar por la pequeña, para él, puerta. Acto seguido lo siguió un gigante de su mismo tamaño. Yo estaba acostado en el sillón y todavía no se habían dado cuenta de mi presencia. Te vino bien el gimansio e! Mira este culote!- el gigante de pelo rojizo le apretó con su manopla la nalga inmensa del de pelo castaño. Te gusta este cuerpo que tengo e. Puedo jurar que cada vez estoy más grande, más gordo y más puesto. Mirá lo que son estas tetas!- empezó a rebotar dos melones gigantescos y fue entonces cuando se sobresaltó y frenó de golpe. Me miró a los ojos. Me vió. Mirá quien está acá hermano! Nuestro compañero, mejor dicho compañerito, de cuarto! Es enano! JA JA!- su voz grave retumbó en mi cabeza y empecé a pararme un poco asustado que me haya visto viéndolo e intimidado por su tamaño. Se me acercó a mí y con su altura y ancho me intimidaba. Era un gigante. Mirandolo desde abajo parecía incluso más grande. Me intenté parar y caí para atrás pero dos manoplas callosas y calurosas agarraron mis brazitos y espalda. No te caigas chiquito! Vení para acá que te queremos conocer mejor.- me levantó y estaba inmovilizado en el aire por sus manos. No podía creer la fuerza que tenía este hombre. Me puso frente a su cara y pude ver lo fachero que era. Seguía teniendo un poco cara de niño pero su barba recien afeitada mostraba que ya era adulto. Los pomulos bien marcados, labios gruesos, ojos marrones, y un cuello muy grueso. El enfocó sus ojos en los míos y rapidamente desvíe la mirada al piso. Estaba levitando al menos treinta centimetros de este. Emm hola. Soy Ramon su su compañero de cuarto.- dije tartamudeando. Hola chiquitin! Yo soy Ro, y él mi hermano Tomás. Somos mellizos como podes ver. BROAAAAR.- un eructo largo y potente directo a mi cara.- JA JA siempre me pasa, ahí te bajo enano me olvidé que te estaba levantando.- Volví al piso y ahí dimensioné el tamaño de ambos. Me llevaban al menos tres cabezas o más, y de ancho tres cuerpos si o sí. Estaban en musculosa y shorts cortos que dejaban poco a la imaginación. Tenían el cuerpo igual ambos. Dos caras grandes sumamente atractivas, Ro morocho y Tomás un poco más rojizo el pelo. Un cuello grueso y fuerte. El pecho más ancho que vi en mi vida, con dos hombros redondos y fuertes y dos tetas musculosas y gordas. Eran dos bolas de bowling. Tenían una solida panza pero que se le marcaban por sobre ese musculo grasoso los abdominales. Por debajo de los hombros, unos biceps gigantescos, más grandes que mi pecho, y antebrazos gruesos y firmes. Me impresionaron las manos, anchas y con dedos como morcillas. Tenían gambas gordas y tonificadas, muy anchas, con dos rodillotas impresionantes. Los gemelos enormes, y pies peludos de talle 50, gordos jugosos y de gigante. Todo este análisis lo hice en los 5 segundos en los cuales estuve parado enfrente de los colosos que iban a ser mis compañeros de cuarto. Nos vas a contar algo más de vos o que?- dijo uno de los gigantes que tenia en frente mío. Ss si. Llegué hoy del interior del país y estoy con una beca acá. Y voy a estudiar economía.-dije casi como soldado. Miralo al enano. Dejaste todo para venirte aca? No conoces a nadie?- Mm no.- ya ganando un poco de confianza.- Ustedes son los primeros con los que hablo, sin contar la de admisiones.- Bueno no pasa nada. Porque ahora vas a ser como un hermano nuestro!- Ro se emocionó y me levantó devuelta abrazandome con sus brazotes. -Mejor dicho, un hermanito!-
  15. This is a story that I wrote around 10 years ago on the old forum and it randomly came to mind today, so I thought it would be good to repost it over here and doctor it up a little bit. Enjoy Finally. Right in front of his eyes sat one of the books of histories. To someone with no knowledge of these books, they looked like a book with blank pages, no writings. But Tyler knew the secret. These books had the power to change past, present, and future by scrawling on the blank pages. He had the power to do anything he wanted. He could write himself a doctorate and skip college, or even write himself as president. The possibilities were endless! Tyler had one thing on his mind, though. He wanted to be bigger. Tyler had always been the super skinny kid throughout the years. Up until his junior year of high school, he was short (about 5'6") and skinny. Then he hit his growth spurt. He shot up to about 6'2" but never bulked up, leaving him as a tall, lanky guy weighing at about 135 lbs. He was so embarrassed by his frame that he rarely swam with a shirt off and wore sleeved shirts that covered most of his stick-like arms. But, as he looked at the blank pages of this book, he knew his skinny days were over. He was slightly pessimistic about how the book worked so he thought he'd just test it out. He picked up the pen and scrawled on the page "Tyler Smith gained 40 lbs of muscle instantly." He completed the sentence and waited. Nothing happened. He was so disappointed. He actually thought this book would work, but it was all just a fable apparently. He had to get up for classes the next day, though, so he crawled into bed and fell asleep. He awoke the next morning, took his morning shower, got in the car and drove to class. He was still bummed about the book not working as he drove down the road. He arrived on campus and walked to class. Normally, his bookbag seemed a little heavy-not too bad but noticeably. When he grabbed his bag out of the car, though, it seemed lighter. He checked the bag to see if anything was missing and everything was there. It was then that he noticed his arm. It took a bit since he always wore the longer-sleeved tees. His arm was noticeably bigger-not bulging huge, but definately a lot more definition than he remembered. He lifted up his shirt and saw the faint outline of a 6 pack instead of the bottom of his ribcage. He ran his hands over his chest and felt two bumps that were his more defined pecs. The book worked!, he thought. Excitedly, he ran to his one class of the day. He couldn't wait to get home and utilize the powers of this book even more. But, his growth wasn't completely finished. As he was sitting in his Algebra class, his waistline seemed a lot tighter. He normally had to wear a belt because he couldn't find pants that were long enough for his lanky body that still fit his waist. He tried loosening the belt a few notches, but they still felt too tight. He removed the belt completely and felt better. As he did, though, his shirt came up enough to get a glimpse at a new set of chiseled abs. His shirt felt a little tighter as well and a faint outline of his pecs was now visible. Tyler got slightly aroused by this and couldn't wait any longer. Class would be over in 15 minutes. It would be ok. He gathered his books and rushed out the door. He sped home and ran to his room. He shut the door and took his shirt off. What he saw in the mirror was remarkable. He had the physique of a model now. His pecs were bigger along with his biceps. Just to further test how accurate the book was, he found a scale and stood on it. The readout said "175". He had gained exactly 40 lbs! He realized, then, that the book really did work and that he could make himself even bigger if he wanted. He smiled to himself, sat down at the table and began writing. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The book sat in front of Tyler and he merely sat there thinking of the possibilities. He picked up his pen and began writing, "Tyler Smith gains 100 lbs of muscle over the next week." He didn't want to draw too much suspicion to his sudden burst of growth, although 100 lbs in one week was still unheard of. He shut the book and sat back, imagining how he would look with that extra bulk added to his tall frame. Just the thought of it gave him a hard-on. He thought about it a few extra minutes and drifted off to sleep... Tyler awoke the next morning extremely groggy and disoriented. He reached for his glasses but couldn't find them, so he just went straight to the bathroom to put his contacts in. He looked at his blurred reflection and he thought his frame looked slightly broader. He quickly put in his contacts and observed. His pecs were quite a bit more defined than the night before as were his abs. His biceps flexed was firm but still not all that large, but it was a start. He got dressed, enjoying the feeling of his shirt being slightly tighter around his pecs, and went to his one class of the day. He came home later and began thinking about other things he could do with the book. He always hated that his eyesight was bad, so he took the book and wrote, "Tyler Smith's eyesight is 20/20 vision and has never needed any optical corrections." Instantly his eyes got blurry with the contacts in them. He grabbed the tiny discs of plastic and threw them away. His eyesight was perfect! He then corrected a few extra things that he didn't like, such as his natural hair color (which he made dark brown instead of blonde) and his complexion. He had always hated how pale he was and he always burned when he attempted to tan. Now his skin was a sexy, tanned skin tone. He began to feel woozy so he went to bed. A few days passed with minimal results each morning. His muscles became slightly more defined, but not much. By saturday, the scale read "193". He began to worry that the book wouldn't do exactly what he wanted anymore. Of course, he was happy with the total extra 58 lbs of muscle, but he wanted more! He finished his day and went to bed and dreamed of his extra muscle. Tyler woke up the next morning feeling strange. He felt dizzy again. He stumbled out of bed to his bathroom, like any other morning, but what he saw in the mirror almost caused him to pass out. He saw a different person in the mirror. His chest jutted out in front of him and his former 6 pack was now a clearly defined 8 pack. He flexed his bicep as it exploded with power. It was the size of a softball and as firm as a rock. His once long, spindly fingers were now thick and meaty. His forearms were unbelievable in size and vascularity. The veins running up and down his arm looked like a road map. His legs had grown immensely as well and he realized that he wouldn't be able to wear his normal pair of jeans if he wanted to go anywhere. He dug through his drawers and found a pair of super baggy sweatpants. He squeezed them over his thick thighs, basking in the feeling of fabric stretched over his now muscular legs. He tried to put on one of his shirts, but he couldn't get the shirt past the two slabs of rocks that were his pecs. He went to his parents' room and grabbed one of his dad's shirts. It fit snuggly, accentuating his billowing biceps and pecs. While he was in there he grabbed their scale just to see how much weight he had put on overnight. The scale's readout said "225". He still had 50 more lbs that he knew he would gain before the day ended. He called his friend, Todd and told him that he had to show him something. They met at the mall and Todd didn't believe his story about the book and being able to change anything that came to mind. He marveled at Tyler's gorgeous body. Todd was straight and was engaged to a gorgeous girl, but he couldn't hide his growing member in his pants from Tyler. He could tell that Todd was extremely jealous, because he had always talked about getting a gym membership and getting "buff" but he was always too lazy to start on it, so he stayed thin. His frame was probably 10 pounds heavier that what Tyler's previous size was, but 4 inches shorter. Now Todd was also a lot lighter than Tyler and he felt insignificant. Tyler told him that to prove to him that it was the book, he would make Todd just as much of a gorgeous hunk as he was now. They continued wandering the mall, laughing at all the looks that Tyler was now getting from everyone. Throughout the day, he felt his clothes getting tighter and tighter. Finally on his way home, his shirt had finally reached it's limits. His big, juicy chest was literally busting out of the front of his shirt. He rushed into the house, threads popping in his obscenely tight sweatpants with each step. He checked the scale and he had gained the whole 50 lbs now weighing in at 275 lbs. He marveled at his mass in the mirror. He was the size of some of the largest bodybuilders out there now. He pulled a most muscular, causing the t shirt to disintegrate instantly. After spending about an hour posing in his bathroom mirror, he grabbed the book and wrote about Todd so he wouldn't feel left out. Todd weighed about 140 lbs so he wrote that "Todd would gain 250 lbs overnight and grow a monster dick." and went to sleep, loving every minute of his new, sexy body. He fell asleep dreaming of how much bigger he could make himself using that book... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Todd woke up the next morning feeling very funny. Everything ached and he felt constricted. Everything felt smaller, even his bed. He sat up and realized he was ALOT bigger. His tshirt was in shreds on the floor around him. He looked around, realizing that his shoulder blades both stretched past each side of the headboard of his bed now. He stared in shock at the size of himself, or what he could see anyways. His massive pecs blocked any view of what loomed below them. He stared at his massive hands, now the size of dinner plates, with the thickest, meatiest fingers attached to them. He was so shocked and excited he immediately went for his mirror, which is where he saw the rest of his body. Getting to the mirror was interesting to say the least. Doorways were too small for him now and he couldn't see them, but apparently his thighs were large enough to make walking more complicated as well. It took some adjustment but he finally made it to his bathroom. His size was mind boggling. Todd was already shorter than Tyler, so you can imagine what 390lbs of beef packed onto a 5'9" frame would look like. Where he hadn't grown any taller, he had to be triple the width of what he used to be. His sweatpants looked like they were painted on to his body now because of his tree trunk sized quads. The fact that they were still intact was a miracle in itself. He could see the fabric billowed out where his massive calves were hidden beneath. His waist now bulged out like a roid gut, making him look even more massive and tank-like. Todd simply stood there marveling at his new, massive body. He was like a real life hulk. He was starting to get turned on by his body. As he felt his rod pulsating and enorging, his eyes widened at the impressive bulge protruding from his crotch now. He stared in awe as it continued to grow and grow, until his sweatpants could not take it anymore. They shredded right down the middle and the most massive dick Todd had ever seen came erupting outwards. Hard, it had to be at least two feet long and as thick as a telephone pole. It extended out and then upwards as it slammed in between the deep valley of his enormous chest. The head rose higher still, until Todd was nearly face to face with the tip of his enormous dick. He grabbed his thick cock, having to use both of his massive hands to handle the beast and began jacking off like a mad man. The orgasm that followed was world-shattering. The first thing after he recovered he did was call Tyler to tell him to come over so he could see his new body. A couple of minutes later Tyler showed up at his door and was freaking out! Seeing his best pal raided out beyond belief was amazing! They decided to go to the mall to show off their new bodies. Todd ended up having to wear some old baggy sweatpants and an extremely tight t-shirt that accentuated every muscle in his upper body. The sweatpants hugged his taught bubble butt and tree trunk legs. They loved all the looks they were getting from everyone at the mall. While they were there, they got some new clothes to wear that would fit their new, huge bodies. Later, Tyler returned home, content with his life now, and got ready for bed. The book was still sitting on the table where he left it. He saw it and began to think of more things he could change about himself. He sat down and began to write all of his fantasies of what his body should look like. He ended the long description with the most specific date and time that it would happen so he wouldn't have to wait. He wanted it all right now. He wrote in the book that it would alter reality so noone would notice that he had changed so much over the course of a couple of days except Todd. He wanted to see his reaction at the changes. He knew he would accept him however he looked. He sat there waiting, in his baggy pajama pants and shirt he had bought at the store that day (He still liked to be comfortable when he slept right?). In a couple of minutes he felt it beginning. It was the most intense pleasure that he had ever felt. Everything felt hot, and began vibrating. The first thing to hit was his biceps. They exploded with power. He felt the fabric slowly getting tighter and tighter around his arms. They went from baseballs, to softballs, to bowling balls, finally to basketballs. Next his chest began to expand tremendously. He had always wanted the most round, perfect, gigantic pecs ever known to man. They just kept expanding, until finally, he could easily rest his chin on his gigantic pec shelf. It seemed to stick out at least a foot in front of him. Next his back and shoulders widened out. He was now about 5 feet wide from shoulder to shoulder. His shirt was holding on for dear life at this point. He decided to just make it easier for himself and flex out his shirt. In doing so, the shirt exploded, along with his muscles. They all expanded out a couple of more inches, making him even more massive. He could feel his bubble butt expanding underneath him, lifting him further up off his seat. He'd always wanted a nice, firm bubble butt. Well, he was getting one now. He stood up and saw the most, round, perfect bubble butt sticking out. It almost seemed to defy gravity. His legs were next. His sweatpants were filled out with new gigantic thighs within seconds. His calves exploded with power stretching out the fabric even more. This time, in his writing, he had mentioned his cock. He'd had an average-sized cock before but all that was changing now. He could feel it growing in his boxers, creating a bulge in the front of his sweatpants. Before long, his sweatpants just ripped and fell off from the increasing pressure being placed on them. His cock exploded out of his boxers at full mast. It was about 2 feet long and about a foot around. He stood there for a minute, marveling at himself in the mirror. He was a true god now. In the process he grew about 10 inches taller, putting him at 7 feet tall now. Even at 7 feet, all the muscle packed onto his body made him look like a monster of a man. And then it hit him. He forgot about the rest of the things he had written. He had always wanted more facial hair and body hair to begin with. He was virtually hairless except on his head, and his crotch. He got really itchy suddenly, and dark hair began sprouting out everywhere. Within a couple of seconds he had a nice dusting of stubble on his face. He had a nice coating of hair on his chest, with a treasure trail cutting between his thick cut abs. He had also wanted his face to be matured more. He watched in the mirror as his jawline began to sharpen and define itself, and age just slightly. With the stubble, he now looked like he came straight out of a GQ magazine, minus the unreal proportions of his muscles. The final stages of growth hit, making his body expand out even more by a couple of inches, as well as his stomach. Tyler had always secretly wanted a huge muscle gut. He observed as his stomach bulged out slowly, bulging out past his insanely huge chest. He now had a huge muscle gut resting below his pecs. The faint outline of abdominals could still be seen. The last bout of growth happened on his neck. His neck expanded outward giving him a bullneck. He groaned, hearing his voice drop several octaves in the process, leaving him with a deep, sexy voice. He immediately went to the scale to see how much weight he'd accumulated. The scale went well past 300. To get an accurate weight, Tyler just went to the basement where his parents happened to have a scale for shipping packages. He stepped onto it and the numbers topped off at around 489. 489lbs! As he stood there marveling at the number before him, he felt that same pleasure come back. He had been so caught up in his growth, he forgot the he had written a sort of 'aftershock' in, if you will. As he stood there, he felt his frame stretch even higher and even wider all at once. The pounds were packing onto his frame at an insane rate now. He stared at the scale as it seemed to get further away, watching as the numbers climbed higher and higher, until finally, he couldn't see over his enormous pecs anymore. His head had just started to brush the ceiling when the growth stopped. If the book did what he told it to do, he was now a literal giant of muscle. His body now stretched 9 feet into the air. He now weighed upwards of 800lbs. His wingspan was easily 6 feet from one massive shoulder to the other. His already enormous cock had stretched another foot in length to keep up with the rest of him, putting him at 3 feet of man meat. His massive cock head was oozing pre cum, ready for the slightest sign of arousal. He felt amazing. He decided to go put some clothes on and go see Todd. He'd added to the book so that the house had adjusted to accommodate his new size and he now had clothes available for his new size. The clothes still barely fit over his gargantuan body. He wore a tanktop that billowed out from his chest and muscle gut and a custom pair of jeans that really accentuated his massive thighs and bubble butt. The new size of his cock created a prominent bulge at the front of his jeans as well. Each step around the house literally caused the whole building to quake at his might. He showed up at Todd's door, and Todd almost passed out. Todd didn't recognize the hulking figure before him. Of course all he could see when he opened the door was a pair of the most massive thighs to ever walk the planet and a massive bulge protruding from between. He wanted all of that size and more. It just so happened that one of Todd and Tyler's close friends, Marcus, was over at the time as well. He saw Tyler and immediately started going on and on about how Tyler was so lucky to have the genetics to be that huge and how he wished that he could be a fraction of that size. Tyler got an idea. He went back to his house and began writing in the book... ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Marcus's dad was a bodybuilder in his younger days so Marcus already had some great genetics going for him. He was half filipino and half black. He was around 6' and a solid 160 lbs with a little bit of pudginess gained since his 2 years of college but he had some muscle underneath all that. He wanted to be bigger, but never could find the time to buckle down and do it the right way. All he had been thinking about that day is how huge Tyler was! He longed for that size and even more than that. Little did he know that Tyler had gone back home and written in the book some very special things that would change Marcus's life. As Marcus was brushing his teeth that night, he began to feel really light-headed and he felt really tight and tense all over. He usually wore a white undershirt to bed that accentuated the nicely muscled back he had. He stared at himself in the mirror as he saw his shoulders begin to broaden into massive boulders of muscle. His traps grew and practically swallowed his now bull-sized neck. His back broadened even more, stretching the white shirt well past it's limits causing it to rip down the middle. His back and shoulders continued to broaden until he was as wide as he was tall. His facial features broadened and sharpened to accommodate his massive neck. He felt his chest pumping up, and each time he would flex his pecs, they would contract, and stay that same size, growing bigger and bigger with each flex. It was as if someone took two of the largest watermelons and placed them under his skin. The impressive globes of flesh continued to grow until his chin could rest comfortably on them. His biceps writhed and contracted, as they too began to expand to unimaginable sizes. They grew well past the size of bowling balls, unflexed, and veins began to snake down his vascular arms as his triceps joined in the fun. His forearms grew as well causing those huge veins to bulge out. His forearms were the size of any bodybuilder's monster biceps. His shirt had long since lost the battle with his growing body and his pudgy belly began to bulge and grow even more, giving Marcus a nice, solid roid gut. The faint outline of his 8 pack abs could be faintly seen. His butt firmed up and bulged out, making them two huge slabs of prime cut beef. His legs swelled up to the size of tree trunks and his calves bulged out so much that Erik Fankhouser would dream of having biceps that size-much less calves. His cock began to swell in his boxer briefs, which was the only thing still clinging to life on his body. It swelled past twelve inches, creating a massive bulge in his front. It continued to swell, past a foot in a half in length where it finally stopped. His milk chocolate toned body began to sprout up with hair everywhere. A light dusting on his chest, with a treasure trail leading down to his crotch. His forearms sprouted thick tufts of hair along with a nice amount of stubble on his masculine face. To top off the growth, he sprouted up a couple of more inches, putting him at around 6'5". He gaped at his reflection in the mirror as he saw the monster that was him staring back. He had to weigh at least 600 lbs now, just judging how big Todd was. He easily surpassed Todd's size, at least in muscle and weight. He couldn't even take in the fullness of his size because he couldn't even see all of himself in the mirror now. He went to the living room where there was a massive mirror his parents had used as a decoration. His massive penis instantly sprung to life and obliterated his boxer briefs at the sight of himself. He had to be at least 6 feel wide with the widest, sexiest back he had ever seen. His arms jutted out to the side because of how wide his back was. His back was wide enough that even with his muscle gut, it still gave the illusion of a V-Taper. Speaking of his muscle gut, it jutted out proudly in front of him, just enough for him to see it over his immense pectorals. He raised his arms and flexed his biceps. They exploded with power, bulging way past the size of his head-at least the size of watermelons. He rubbed his hands all over his powerful body, feeling the firmness of his beautiful muscle gut, flexing his pecs as they bounced proudly in front of him, his big, dark nips pointing straight to the ground. Marcus wanted to call Tyler and tell him all about what had happened, still clueless that Tyler knew exactly what had happened. Tyler picked up immediately and Marcus began telling him in detail what had happened. He had to get used to his new sexy, deep voice that emanated from his huge bull neck. He had trouble concentrating because of how amazing he sounded now when he spoke. His voice practically rumbled the house. It made him feel powerful. What he didn't know, is that as he was talking to Tyler, he was writing more in the book, causing Marcus to increase in height and weight even more. His voice dropped even lower as his neck grew even bigger. He hung up the phone before he realized that he was now around 14 feet tall, head almost brushing the ceiling of his now larger house. His muscles had remained the same proportion to his height so they grew as well. He was so massive now that a simple shrug practically swallowed his head. His head disappeared between his enormous shoulders when he lifted his gargantuan arms to flex. He didn't know it was possible to get this incredibly huge but he wasn't questioning any of it. He was loving every minute. His already massive cock was now even larger. At 5 feet long and god knows how many feet around, it looked larger than a telephone pole. He thundered his way back to his room and found that all his clothes had mysteriously grown with him. He put on a pair of board shorts that fit, barely. They stretched obscenely over his redwood size legs and his planet sized ass. He then put on a nice t shirt that seemed custom-fit to hug every enormous crevice of his body. His back looked absolutely breath-taking in the shirt. He felt incredible. Powerful. Like he could conquer the world.
  16. 111dash111

    no sex ESP Enhanced Solder Programme

    I’m new to writing on this forum so here goes. “What have I got myself into?” Jeff thought to himself as the drill sergeant was screaming at the platoon. Jeff had decided he would join the army awhile back as he had always wanted to be big and feel strong and needed a way to motivate himself whilst giving back to the country. Jeff was a short and skinny 5 foot 4 guy and weighing just 110pounds, a drastic difference from his brothers, all naturally lean and muscled. He had always wondered why he was the runt of the family and felt it was just him not putting in the effort. “NOW LINE UP AND HEAD IN FOR YOUR ADDITIONAL MEDICAL TESTS!” shouted the drill sergeant. They took his height, weight, fat percentage and blood, which was odd considering he already had his medical done weeks before his enlistment date. One by one the recruits did their medical, and lined up outside the medical facility. Basic training went on as normal for the next 2 weeks and Jeff had felt himself slowly get stronger with all the PT he was doing. Whilst he was doing a standard obstacle course, 2 huge muscled guys approached his drill sergeant and pointed at him. “ RECRUIT JEFF! GET YOUR SCRAWNY ASS OVER HERE”, “please follow these men” the sergeant said. “Oh gosh what have i done? Did I get caught for something?” Jeff thought to himself as he followed the 2 huge guys toward a black van. One of the guys spoke and said “You’ve been chosen for a new elite squad” “There’s gotta be some sort of mistake, I’m the smallest skinniest guy in my platoon, and I am not a smart guy either” “No there’s been no mistake, you are special, one of the few” piped up the other muscled man. “Should I get my stuff then?” Jeff said worryingly. “No, you won’t be needing your old stuff, you won’t fit into them very soon.” Jeff stepped into the back of the van and they sped off. The van had no windows to see out from the back and he had no idea where they were headed. Each minute felt like hours for Jeff but they finally arrived at the destination. It was an underground facility, with a very high ceiling all painted grey, like a huge hanger but all out of concrete. Just round the corner there were at least 20 other guys, all skinny like Jeff. He was puzzled as to how this could be an elite squad, everyone was small and skinny. “Get into the formation” the muscled guy ordered. Jeff ran over and joined the formation. A big guy in a lab coat had walked in front of the platoon and started speaking. “You all must be wondering why you’re here, what makes me different to be standing here, all these will be answered in the next few hours. For now, just follow my instructions and do as you’re told. Now follow me” The man in the white coat started walking and everyone followed. “Sorry I forgot to introduce myself, I am Major Hollows, but you can just call me Hollows. I am the head of the Enhanced Soldier Programme, or ESP for short. And we will turn you into the finest soldiers this earth has ever seen. You will become the fastest, strongest, and most deadly soldiers ever created.” They soon walked into a bunk, with names on the end of each bed. On each bed were brand new uniforms, a set of boots, PT kit and what appears to be a black coloured neoprene drysuit. Here are your sleeping quarters, everyone head to your respective area, there will be a form on top of the new kit we’re giving you. Sign that and pass that to me, I will give you further instructions. Jeff headed to his bed, and picked up the form. It was a contract extension to 10 years to serve the army, and attached was a waver. “Yes, 10 years is a long time, but you will love your elite position in the army and 10 years will be too short” Jeff signed it, knowing he had nothing else better in his life to look forward to, so as every other recruit in the room. “Alright, everyone’s form is in, now it’s time to put on your new gear.” Jeff opened the box of boots,it said size 16. “This must be a mistake” he thought. He looked through the rest of his kit and saw everything was far too big, the shirts, the underwear, the pants, the socks. Only the drysuit looking thing was correctly sized. “Sir, these boots are far too big, in fact everything is too big” “There is no mistake, everyone put on your black skin suit, also known around here as a drysuit” “Once you’re done bring one set or uniform and the boots along and line up outside.” Jeff picked up the drysuit and immediately felt turned on “Quickly, take off your clothes in here and just put on the suit, you’re going to see each other for the next 10 years, so don’t feel embarrassed. Jeff hurried up and quickly put on the snug drysuit and rushed to line up with his oversized kit. “Alright, everyone follow me” They walked down a narrow corridor and through a huge thick metal gate with radiation danger signs on them. There was sure to be something dangerous inside this room. They entered a large all white room. There were many glass chambers inside this room. Each chamber was on a 45degree angle with a flat bed with straps on it. “Pick a chamber, and stand next to it, someone will assist you into the chamber. “ Jeff picked a chamber and stood next to it, there was what appears to be a diving helmet with a ball dangling inside. He also saw some hoses inside “That would explain the ports on the suit” he spoke to himself. A man in a lab coat came to Jeff. “Put on your uniform and boots then lay on the bed. Put on the helmet and fit the ball into your mouth as well” “This will supply you nutrients and there will be oxygen supplied within the helmet for you to breathe.Also, don’t worry about not being able to see out, there’s a screen inside it.” Jeff layed on the bed and placed the helmet on, following the instructions. He felt his arms being strapped down as well as his feet. This felt weird as the boots were 8 sizes too big for him. He then heard a hiss, and felt the chamber door closing in on him. The bed then angled itself to be level with the floor and the ball inside his mouth also began to expand.The screen in the helmet turned on and read “Standby” About 10 mins later, the screen switched to a video feed of Hollows with subtitles underneath. “Alright, time to explain what is happening. Your drysuit will begin filling with a liquid, so don’t panic whilst I talk. You have been selected to become an enhanced soldier as your DNA tests show you were suitable for this programme. Our programme will enhance soldiers by making your muscles grow and making you taller, with super strength and agility.” Jeff was suddenly super excited, and was really turned on. This was what he had been fantasizing his whole life, wanting to be bigger and stronger than his brothers. “Has the liquid been pumped in fully? Yes? Alright.’ Jeff felt the liquid slosh around inside his drysuit, following the empty spaces of his oversized uniform. Okay soldiers this is what will happen, there is liquid muscle inside of your drysuit that will become active once radiation is exposed. They will penetrate your skin and cause your muscles to contract, making microtears within. They will then attach themselves to your muscles and repair those microtears, becoming your muscles. This will also require lots of nutrients as your body grows, so you will be pumped into your stomach directly. This will also inevitably cause your body to grow taller as a side effect, thus the oversized uniform. It will hurt but you will be the best soldiers this world will see. There will be a countdown and the procedure will start, see you on the other side. ” The screen switched to black and the countdown began. 5 4 3 2 1 Initiating Jeff felt something flowing out of the ball in his mouth, it began gushing into his stomach, tasted like lemons. It began to fill him, until he felt like he was going to burst. Then, it happened. His skin started to tingle and his muscles started to contract, it hurt like nothing he had ever felt but it felt so good. Then the contractions became stronger, the straps holding him back from just flailing all over the place He felt his full stomach shrinking, and felt tight, his arms and legs felt extremely tight as well. He felt the drysuit shrinking, but it was actually him growing into the drysuit. His feet slowly growing into the size 16 boots. The pain began to subside, and began to fade out of his nirvana of pleasure. He felt the drysuit firmly on his skin and the uniform had fit him snugly. The screen turned on Initiating enrollment
  17. Trio

    no sex Small Story Challenge

    I recently posted on Images a small challenge! It was about sharing two illustrations I made of a transformation, and my proposal was for you guys to take a look and develop a short story/general story/background/draft based on it! I wasn't sure if I would post it on Images or Stories, so I'm gonna post it here as well!
  18. Muscle fog ogre’s gift Ch1 part three A by Big-Zargo Story A Muscle Run Grayson passed out of his door wearing his yellow nightclothes. The skinny middle-age man looked fearful as he cried throughout the night. “Georgine, Georgine where are you. Oh God where are you.” he had a terrible nightmare that Georgine was being chased by a huge muscular monster. Then he woke up in his nightmare only to find that his wife Georgine was missing from their bed. At first, he thought that she was this in the restroom getting water or relieving herself. But when she did not return to bed Grayson began to become fearful. Then he heard a scream coming from outside and immediately grabbed his key and flashlight, put on his slippers and then went out to investigate the noise. Grayson helped that Georgine was not the one scream. The fog was so thick that Grayson could barely see even with a flashlight. “Georgine are your right? Please tell me you’re right, Georgine?” Grayson yelled out. Grayson’s throat felt parched from yelling out, and his body felt unusually warm and tingling. It was if the thick fog was smothering him, it was so hard to breathe and it felt like his voice was being muffled. “Come closer Grayson, I await you.” A mysterious ghostly voice said. “I’m coming Georgine.” Grayson said while running towards the sound, thinking that the voice must be hers. She must be close, Grayson thought. “Where are….” Grayson said as his mind fell upon a blank. Grayson cannot remember what he was doing. His head felt so foggy couldn’t think straight. He was looking for something no, someone. Someone so presses that would run outside in of the night. Then he heard a beautiful sound like angels singing. Grayson ran towards the beautiful song, as his mind became foggier and more forgetful. “Beautiful song.” Grayson said in a daze. As his skinny body began to grow gaining muscular definition underneath his yellow nightclothes. Hearing a tearing sound, Grayson stop and look that one of his sleeves of his nightgown had a tear on it. The sleeve must have gotten caught on; he thought his wife Georgine will be…… Georgine he tried to cling to that name like it was a lifeline. “Georgine, Georgine, Georgine, Georgine,” Grayson said and thought hoping to fight where there him. Then he started to hear the beating of drums his head. Grayson roared as he blood began to boil with primal power. Grayson could literally see his arms grow with muscle right in front of his eyes. He could feel his nightclothes begin to stretch with growing muscles. He could feel his cock becoming hard, as he began to pre-cum staining his pajama pants. “What’s going on?” Grayson moaned out. His Chess swelling with every breath of his Lungs, the fog influence became pronounce. “Holy shit I can see my pecs.” Grayson said in a daze. Then he heard ripping sounds coming from his clothes. He was so big that there were holes starting to appear in his nightclothes, and with multiple popping sounds all of his buttons popped off of his yellow nightshirt, revealing an extremely tight undershirt that was starting to tear as well. When Grayson reached the size of a heavyweight bodybuilder his transformation truly started. He began to shake as primal energy completely flew through his body. His already very tight clothes began to be destroyed by his body growing, holes in his nightclothes widen to the point, where they completely burst off of his body. His arms grew with Ogreish might as his biceps grew to bowling balls, his hands wide into huge mitts. His once human proportion shoulders grew freakishly large as his chest and back grew out to compensate his growing frame. His strong thighs grew into mighty tree trunks and his feet grew into large wide pads reaching 18 inches in length. His waist grew in proportion with his off his body, as his four pack abs grew in. Huge pillow like pecs swelled into being as large watch size nipples popped out. His butt grew into two huge muscular soccer balls squeeze together. His face became more brutish with a square jaw, pronounced eyebrow ridges, and a big round nose. Now looking like a big muscular giant, with a wild black shaggy hair, a mustache complemented with a 5 o’clock shadow on his brutish face, with hairy armpits, and an erect 10 in long fat cock, with a pair of orange size hairy balls. Looking at his fat throbbing cock dripping with pre-cum Grayson knew that if he came his transformation would be complete, and that he would never see her again. He began to run, hoping to find sanctuary, hoping to find her, hoping not to forget her. Every moment he ran his human memories faded away, and his mind became more warped. Grayson could feel the primal energy flow through his new body, beckoning him to keep going to feel the burn or stop and attend his throbbing cock. He looked down to see fat throbbing cock move right and left in sway with his muscular thighs and knew that you eventually come. Every breath filled with primal energy for the air itself tainted by the fogs magic. Then Grayson just stopped forgetting like he was running in the first. Grayson just felt so horny and lightheaded, he just stood there as he takes deep breath of the magic infused air. He looked at his fat cock again marveling at how big it was, especially now that he could see now, he was under a light post. It so thick and veiny Grayson didn’t expect his fat cock to be orange color. He looked at his thick arm to find his skin tone to be orange as well. He found it hard to think so horny. Just needed to grab, squeeze, and rub a little and then he would be happy, but something was holding back. Closing his eyes Grayson moan in sexual frustration, when he felt a hand wrapped around his fat cock and gave him the squeeze and rub he was hoping. He roared as he came shooting out the last of his humanity into the night. Slowly opening his eyes discovered an ogreish hand moving away, He turned around to see an ogre in barbarian like armor. Looking closer at the ogre saw that he had, long brown hair reaching down to his shoulders, a slight peppering of hair on his chest, he was more bigger, wider and more muscular and like Grayson he shared a 5 o’clock shadow on his face with a mustache and thick eyebrows. The mysterious armored ogre said. “I am Jackson a mighty Guardian and warrior for Lord Owen. And you saw that you were in distress, so I decided help you with that big problem.” He pointed at Grayson’s cock. Wasting no time Grayson kiss Jackson on his luscious Ogreish lips. Parting his lips from Grayson, Jackson said. “You must be parched from all that running. Why don’t you take a ride with me and my friend in my car, we are head to a bar? There are plenty of human who need to see and feel the blessing of Lord Owen.” With Jack’s at the lead Both ogres headed back to his police car, and like rodeo clowns they magically stuffed their huge bodies in the vehicle, before heading out.
  19. Azerreza

    dragon ball Muscle Ball Z

    Trunks was on the way to his mother's house. She called him earlier and it seemed urgent. He had felt an enormous ki this morning and it couldn't be his father or Goku,, who were gone to train with Beerus and Whis. It didn't bode well. "I'm here Mom. You called me ?" "Yeah. I have a bad news. You must have felt earlier this gigantic ki ? I think that's Broly." "BROLY ? But Goku hadn't defeated him ?" "Unfortunately, no" "Fuck, and Dad and Goku are not here." "Yes but I think we can do without them." "Against Broly ? Are you fool ? We have no chance to beat him. I'm not enough strong for this" "Not now but... it's the second reason why I called you. I'm working on my last invention : a power gun. It allows to increase physical abilities of a person and when I say increase, it's really really increase. But I don't test on a human subject" "And... you would like test it on me, that's it" "Exact. But even if I tested on you now, it would be insufficient for to beat Broly because there is one detail that could change the situation. I noticed that the intensity of transformation depends of person's current ki. More high it is, more powerful you will be. As I already told you, if I use on you now, it would be insufficient but what would happen if I used it on you when you are transformed ?" "If it depends of ki, I suppose that effects will be more important" "Exactly, very more importants. Do you remember your fight against Cell ?" "Yes, I had transformed myself in ultra super saiyan. At the time, with this transformation, I was the most powerful among us but this it had a big inconvenience." "Yep, your speed was very decreased. But maybe my gun could correct that, but I'm not sure." "So if I understand, you would like to test on me when I'm transformed in ultra super saiyan ?" "Exactly. However, I have to warn you I don't know the results with certainty but I think that you will be enough big and powerful than Broly, maybe more. So Trunks, do you want to be my guinea pig ?" More powerful than Broly ? Trunks had trouble to imagine it but this idea pleased him, very even. He had loved this transformation but his inconvenience had made him abandonned, so more powerful and without inconvenience of speed ? Yes ! Oh fuck yes he wanted ! "Oh fuck yes I want!" he said with a big smile. "Very good ! But we are not going to make test here, firstly it's not discreet and then, it would be dangerous for citizens." "We could go on the place where I fought Cell, it's really desert." "Excellent idea. Oh, I forgot but I would like that you wear your suit. I would like test his resistance." "Ok !" *Few hours later* "Ok, we are arrived, so let you transform. Don't worry, go to max and when you will be ready, I could use the gun on you." Trunks flew, transformed into super saiyan and began to concentrate him. He hadn't used this transformation for a long time but he remembered this fabulous feeling of power. Some seconds passed and firstly nothing happened, then his shoulders started to shake. Trunks clenched his teeth. Just a little more effort ! More seconds later, it was his chest and arms which whaked. And suddenly the car started : Trunks bent him back and yelled. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!" His hair instantly grew and pick up. His chest and arms seemed start to swell. Under his suit, Trunks could feel his pecs grow and push against his armor. He could feel his abs bulged and quickly become a good sixpack. Trunks straightened his head. Holy fuck, he could feel his traps rose up and his shoulders become canonballs size. His pupils disappeared, leaving his eyes totally white, symbol of a very big power. Lightnings began to appear around him. Trunks was also taller, more than 7 feet. Bulma looked his son become a powerful saiyan but it was nothing compared who waited him. Trunks yelled more when he felt an new energy wave altrought him. All of his body swelled ; he felt his traps rose more, his neck widened, his shoulders became true bowling balls, His arms gained inches after inches. He felt his pecs became more bigger, more thicker, his back widened more and more, Trunks couldn't see but he felt his abs exploded out of his stomach, like boulders implanted under his skin. His six-pack was now very ripped. His legs became more wide than tree trunks. And he was growing again in height and weight. Soon, the transformation seemed to end, Trunks was the head towards up and he was moaning ; this sensation of pure power was very incredible and he waited next with envy. Blue lightning appeared around of him. Finally, his pupils were return. The Ultra Super Saiyan was back ! Trunks stopped to moan and said : "Fuuuuuuuuuck, it feels so gooooood!". Bulma looked captors. Holy shit, his son was a giant, he was almost 8.5 feet tall and his weight was 620 lbs. It was huge yes, but really not enough for to beat Broly. So it was time to test his gun. "Trunks, are you okay ?" "Oh yeah, more than ever." "Ready for the next ? Sure ?" "OH YEAH!" Bulma activated gun and locked his son. The gun roared, more and more and more, and suddenly fired a big blue ray, which hit Trunks in this chest. Trunks widened his eyes. If the previous sensation was like a burning, this was like a nuclear explosion, even more. Nothing could be prepared him to this. During few instants, he said nothing then suddenly, he bent again back but more violently and yelled like he never yelled. This time, it was more intense, very more, very very more. "AAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH !!!!!!! OOOOOOOOOOOOH FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCKKKKKKKKK !!!!!!!!!!!" Lightnings around him became thunder, he clenched his fists and fkexed his arms ; instantly they exploded with muscle, his chest bulged, his traps exploded out from his back, his legs swelled more. And he was taller too, Bulma looked his screen : 9.6 feet and... 1060 lbs. Holy Fuck !!! He was titanic. *crrrrrrrr..crrrrrrrr..crrrr* Bulma heard this crack but didn't know where it came from. Some moments later, she understood : Trunks's armor was starting to crack, firstly it was imperceptible but more muscle he gained, more cracks were visible. Normally, his armor was created for to adapt on user's body but here, his muscles became too big. And it's what happened : next muscle growth spurt literally destroy it. Trunks was now only in his blue combinaison, giving a perfect view on his muscular body. Bulma looked his stats : 10.5 feet tall and 1870 lbs ! Crap, Trunks was taller of Broly ! But the transformation wasn't over : Trunk started to scream even louder when his whole body grew even bigger. "AAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH AAAAAAAAHHH AAAAAAAAAAAAAH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH !!!!!! OOOOOOOOOOOHHHH GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH !!!!!!! IT'S SO FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD" Bulma could hear that his voice became more deeper, more cavernous. She looked her screen again : 12 feet, 2480 lbs. God ! She knew that eher invention would work but not at this point.. Trunks, meanwhile, was a second state. Everything he felt was pure power, at every second this power increased, he felt his body growing more and more and more. He had already had this sensation with ultra super saiyan but now, it was multiplied by a thousand. And it was not yet the end : he felt a new wave of power coming. "HOOOOOLYYYYYYYYYYYY SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTT AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH". His voice became really deep. He felt himself widening, his traps grew even bigger, to the point he had no more neck but only a muscle mountain which surrounded completely his neck. His pecs exploded more, to the point where they hid his sight. If he looked down, he couldn't see other than 2 fucking huge mountains. He bounced them few times and enjoyed of this amazing feeling. Even if couldn't see, he could perfectly feel his six-pack start to swell ,and suddenly, first row literaly popped out of his midsection (like when Buu returned to its original form), then the next row, and finally the third. Shit, his six-pack had doubled in size. But it didn't stop, Trunks felt the hard pressure go down and few moments later, a fourth row exploded out, giving him an incredible fucking eight-pack. His legs continued to grow, becoming redwood trunks. His suit was very very very tight and it gave right to a nice show. Every detail was clearly visible : striation of his shoulders, veins on his biceps, his gigantic lats, striations of his pecs, his nipples, every muscular brick of his amazing eight-pack, his fucking obliques, his amazing adonis belt, veins on the bottom of his abs, every bumps of his muscular quads. His suit yelled to agony and few moments later... "riiippp.. riiiiiippp... riiiiipppp.....riiiiippp..." Tears noises could be heard. Bulma widened his eyes ; after this armor, she noticed several tears appear on Trunks's suit. Even his suit, which was designed for to be very malleable and adapt of user's body, even more than his armor, couldn't stand more. Trunks was simply too muscular and tall for his suit. He was 13 feet tall and weighed 3000 lbs. And it was not yet the end : he felt another wave. Trunks's body exploded everywhere. He was growing, and growing and growing, add several hundreds of pounds in few seconds. His suit didn't supported and was disintegrated, leaving Trunks completely naked. His enormous cock was releasing and comes knock against the top of his eight-pack. Finally, the transformation seemed to end. Bulma took a look on the final statistics : 16 feet tall, 3600 lbs. HO-LY CRAP ! It was a lot more than anything she expected. Broly was "only" 9 feet tall and weighed 800 lbs. Trunks was there, fully naked... HOLY FUCKING SHIT : look at the size of his humoungous python. Bulma had not thought about this "detail" but yeah, there was no reason his dick didn't grow... Bulma wondered how long he could stay like this, because saiyan's transformation consumes a lot of energy, and generally, more powerful it's and more quickly it consumes energy, it's why they can't keep them forever. But in the Trunks's case, she was stunned when she saw her screen : Trunks didn't lose energy, on the contrary, he was producing it ! Trunks's body was became his own nuclear plant. It meant that he could stay like this... forever if he wanted it. Trunks moaned, savoring all sensation he felt. All that he could feel was power, true power, very more than previously. Even motionless it was orgasmic. So he began a flexing session : Trunks started by clench his fist "OOOOHHH Goooood it's so fucking good !" Then he flexed his forearms "Oooooooooh shiiiiiit !" Then he flexed his arms "OOOOOOH FUUUUUUUCKKK !!" Then he flexed and bounced his pecs "Holy shiiiiiiiiiiit" Then he flexed his eight-pack "OOOOOH GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH !!!!" Then he flexed hi legs "SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITTTTT !!!" All this flexing session maked him really horny. Trunks was trying to refrain his huge envy to cum, because he was in front of his mother but the pleasure was really too much : he was going to cum, it was inevitable. So he took his cock and he reached the climax when he flexed all his muscles in same time. "HOOOLYYYYY....... FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKK !!!!!!!". His yell was so loud that it could be heard on ten of miles and cause an little earthquake. And his shot.... it wasn't a simple shot, it looked much more like a super kamehameha. There was several rocks on the path : it pierced them like it was nothing and finally to dig a crater in the ground. The flood continued for at least 15 minutes. Finally, after an eternity to come and moan, Trunks looked his mother "THANKS MOM !" Holy shit, his voice was incredibly deeper, and very more louder, it was such as he speaked through a megaphone. He flew near to his mother. "T-T-Tr..Trunks... are.... are you okay ?" "If I feel me okay ? Mom... ... it's the BEST FEELING I felt IN MY ENTIRE LIFE !". And effectively, it was unbelievable, every movement or flex were so fucking orgasmic ! Bulma was envy to touch him but he was produced too much energy, lightnings constantly appeared around him. She had planned several tests, including a kamehameha, but after to see this amazing power, the kamehameha's test was a very bad idea. By the way, Trunks's eyes were now constantly white, like Broly, contrary to his initial transformation. It was time to make few tests. "So.. let's see if this speed problem is fixed, fly until our house and go back. It's far enough but you should only take about 2 minutes. I could calculate your speed". Bulma did not have time to see Trunks start, but holy shit, what a shock wave ! 12 minutes later, he came back. "Hmmmm, 12 minutes, it's weird, it takes really more time than I thought" said Bulma. "Crap, I really hoped it would solve your speed problem" "Oh don't worry Mom, it's fixed, really ! Because I don't just only fly to our home... I did an Earth tour" "WH... WH...... WHAAA... WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT ?!!!!! A....AN....AN EARTH TOUR ???!!!" exclaimed Bulma in shaking. "So... I think that this speed problem was definitly fixed." An Earth tour... a fucking Earth tour...... How fast did he fly ? He did the turn in 12 minutes and the diameter of Earth is 12742km. So he flew at.. ... ... 63710 km/h !!!! HO-LY FUCKING SHIIIIIT ! Bulma takes several minutes for to recover. It was unbelievable, Trunks was flying faster than a rocket, literally !! So yes, speed wasn't a problem. "Ok now, test your strength. I would like you destroy his big rock but don't do a kamehameha, I wouldn't you destroy the Earth haha." Trunks walks towards the rocks, which was really big, almost 40 feet, and he gave a little flick against and... the rock was reduced in pieces. "Strength won't be a problem either" said Trunks. "So, I think what I'm ready for to beat Broly no ?" Bulma remained silent for several seconds. She knew it would work, but there, it was completely unimaginable. She didn't think to say that one day but... yes, now, there was no chance to lose. "Ok we can go meet him. But before Mom... if you could find clothes for me. And I not need of armor, just suit will be sufficient." *Few hours later* "Finally, it was time ! I'm going to crush this Legendary super Saiyan" Trunks flew to place where they detected Broly early and waited after him. His gigantic power didn't take long for to be detect by Broly. And effectively, Broly searched after Kakarotto when he felt a gigantic ki but really really gigantic. Never he felt a power like this (it over 9000 :p). He was troubled during some seconds before returning to his senses. No matter how powerful, he was the legendary super saiyan, he could beat anyone and anyoune couldn't beat him. So why he will be worried ? So he decided to flew towards this amazing ki. And he came in front of fucking muscular titan. He recognized him directly, it was Trunks. But not the same little Trunks as usual. Now, he was a fucking muscular titan, more tall than Broly himself. How did he reached this level ? "You will not go further; I give you one chance, go far away and never come back. Otherwise..." said Trunks. "Otherwise what ? Well, you've been training what I see. I have to admit I'm impressed. But it will not enough for to beat me. I'm the Legenday Super Saiyan, you forgot ? NOBODY can beat me !" "Nobody ? Really ? Ok, so you know what ? I will let you hit me in first. But little advice, hit me with all your might because otherwise after... And I didn't move, I promise you !" "Let me hit you ? Are you fool ? So you want to be kill ! Ha, pathetic. But if you propose, I didn't refuse" Broly clenched his fits and says "GOODBYE TRUNKS !". And he hit with all his might. A very big sound could be heard : *CRACK !* Two opponents didn't move during few moments. where did this noise come from ? From Trunks ? From Broly ? After a few moments, Trunks says, in smiling "..... Mmmmh, I would say that you broke your knuckes on my abs no ?! And you know what ? I was not flexing them HAHAHAHA !!" Broly seemed very irritated. Nobody resisted him and it no was him who was going to start. "Bastard ! You have resisted to one punch but you will not resist to this ! DIE !!" And for the next minutes, it was a real rush of punches that received Trunks but he didn't move to an inch. Broly hit him and hit him and hit him... but it seemed to have no effects. He finished with a very huge kick on the side of Trunks's head but same result : Trunks didn't move. "Fuck ! trought Trunks. "Yesterday, this kick would have literally beheaded me... but today, I not feel anything ! It's so amazing !" "What ? That's all ? It's that the "Legendary Super Saiyan" ? It's a joke ? I didn't feel nothing. A baby hit more than you hahaha !" "GRRRRRRR !! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU BASTARD !!!" Broly flew further, raised his hands and suddenly generated a gigantic genkidama, biggest that those of Goku. "DIE !!!" he shouted before to launch it on Trunks. Fuck, it was probably not enough for to kill him but if it touched the planet, it would probably destroy it. Trunks had to stop it...... or maybe not, he had another idea. Trunks tried to hold this enormous genkidama. Broly laughed, anybody never not had sucessed to stop it, anybody. "This time, it's the end hahahahaha !!" yelled Broly. But after some seconds, the genkidame didn't move. "Hmm ? It's weird, it not seems move. Not matter, let's help it a few." Broly shot a lot of energy balls for to grow more his genkidama, which was now really gigantic. "HAHAHAHA STOP THAT IF YOU CAN !" But suddenly, an unexpected event happened : the genkidama decreased in size, then again, then again, then again... "WHAT ? NO ! It's impossible !! How ? How did he do that ?" Soon, Broly understood how and why ; he saw Trunks, with his two arms plunged in the enormous energy ball. He moaned of pleasure : Trunks wasn't trying to stop the genkidama, no, he was absorb it !! Trunks roared of pleasure, it was so fucking good, like he pumped the energy of a sun ! And more he absorbed, more he felt his body grow. His body grew at an accelerated rate. His biceps became really gigantic, with humoungous peakes of pure muscle, his shoulder became titanic, his traps reached his ears, his pecs were two gigantic mountains and below, he could feel again a very hard pressure in his midsection. Soon, like his previous muscle growth spurt, his abs exploded out of stomach, row after row, further increasing again and again in size and even the last time, a new row popped, giving him now an unbelievable shredded and ripped ten-pack. Trunks yelled and we could hear his voice became again more and more deep and loud. And during this amazing muscle growth spurt, obviously, he was also getting taller : 16.3 feet...16.7 feet... 17.. 17.4 .. 17.8... 18.5... 19.1... Tearing noises could be heard again : his suit was again in agony, until a last muscle growth wave shattered his clothes. And one more time, his dick came knock his abs. Gooooooooooosh, this amazing python was bigger than Broly's arms. And fun fact, his cock had to be more powerful than his entire old body. Trunks reached a humoungous 20 feet, totally naked. And his weight exceeded 5000 lbs. It was unbelievable. For comparison, now, one of his titanic abs was bigger than Broly's head. He moaned again for long seconds, savoring the power that ran through him. Then, he looked Broly, smiled and said "Thanks for this meal !!!". "FUCKING BASTARD !!!" yelled Broly. With rage, he rushed on Trunks and kicked him over and over. But nothing, he couldn't even push his fist through Trunks's midsection, which had become very more harder (and bigger) than the previous time. Trunks even had fun hitting him once or twice with... his dick. After 10 good minutes of punches, Broly had to resign, he could not beat him by force, he was totally outdone. This terrible truth only made him angry more. It was impossible ! It couldn't happen !! He tried one more time to hit Trunks, but this time Trunks stopped his fist between two fingers. Broly forced but impossible to move his fist. "You are so weak, so insignificant. And you call yourself legendary ? THAT it's legendary !!". And Trunks flexed all his muscles. This sensation which went through him was simply too unbelievable, he roared like he never roared, it felt like a orgasm multiplied by a orgasm which was itself multiplied by a orgasm. Instanly, he felt, with this fucking unbelievable god feeling, that the climax was very near and that it was going to be INSANE ! And he was about to give a little power lesson to the "Legendary Super Saiyan". Quicly, he caught his dick and pointed her in the direction of Broly. Then he came. Even the most powerful kamehameha of Goku was not so impressive. Broly was thrown on dozens of miles, smashing every rock in his path. And the scream of Trunks : the ground shook, even cracked, the sea became a storm. It's even said that the city, which was several hundred miles away, heard his scream and that some windows shattered. It lasted long, maybe 30 minutes and finally, the flood weakens and calm is restored. he exulted with joy : THIS was really LEGENDARY, yes legendary ORGASMIC !!! It took several minutes for Broly to come back even more raging; He was injured (and soaked, I wonder why...). He'd never been humiliated like this. This fucking asshole was gonna pay for it. This fucking planet was gonna pay for it ! Trunks laughed : "HAHAHAHA SO BROLY, WHAT DO YOU THINK OF MY KAMEHAMEHA, OR SHOULD I SAY, MY "CAME-HAMEHA" HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA !!!!" "BASTARD !!! FUCKING BASTARD !!!!!!!!!! IF I CAN'T BEAT YOU, I'M GOING TO QUICKY DESTROY THIS FUCKING PLANET !" and suddenly he shot a kamehameha towards the Earth for to destroy it. "NO CHANCE !". Trunks teleported and just absorbed the kamehameha, which made him gain one or two inches. He found an angle where his own kamehameha wouldn't destroy planets. "AND THIS, IT'S A KAMEHAMEHA !!!". And he shot... It wasn't just enormous, it was FUCKING AMAZING, UNBELIEVABLE TITANIC !!! Trunks was right to find a path without planets : he could easily destroy several planets and suns with only one shot. When Broly saw this humoungous kamehameha, for the first time of his life, he was scared : he knew this was the end for him. "WHA..." he not finished his sentence that the gigantic wave energy hit him. But unlike Goku, this kamehameha don't pushed him, no, it literally disintegrated him instantly and continued into deep space. The ray must have been run over several light-years before to it disappeared. Yeah Bulma was right to do not test on kamehameka ! The threat of the "Legendary super saiyan" was over. Now, Earth had the "Ultra legendary god super saiyan". And now, what do we do ? Trunks looked his body : "Mmmhhh why not an another shot ?" he trought but, finally no : he wouldn't destroy Earth just by sneezing ! Fun facts which happened after ; - It's been a real headache for Bulma to rearrange the routine of his son. Even if he didn't want, he destroyed everything he touched. even with the hardest of metals : a titane glass ? He crushed it. A titane door ? He crushed the clinge and ripped off the door. and if unfortunately the door was not wide enough, when he passed it... the wall came with him ! His bed ? He crumbled it (at the same time with a weight of 5000 lbs...). Other day, he just squeezed : if he don't destroy Earth, it was sufficient for to destroy his house. Yes, be the most powerful warrior of the universe, it was not easy for to have a normal life. Beerus even suggested to resume his job of god of destruction. - Few weeks later, a Cell from other universe, in his first form, tried to absorb Trunks... but he blocked after his head, rest of Trunks's body was really too much massive for to be absorbed. So, seeing he couldn't do it, he tried to sting Trunks with his stinger. Very bad idea Cell : his stinger just broke when it hit the amazing muscular Trunks's chest. Lazy, Trunks sent him waltzed for miles with a very little... flick then he finally decided him to lift his little finger (literally !) and he shot a wave energy sufficient for to disintegrate the monster. - An other annoying thing, it was Goku, completely overjoyed since he had an new opponent who was infinitely more powerful than himself. He constantly attacked Trunks, every day... and every night also, which exasperated Trunks. Obviously, none of his punches had any effect. Trunks could throw it off with a flick but Goku kept coming back. It was like a mosquito which attacked a giant, the bite less. Yes, it was sure now, with this god of god as protector, Earth was safe ! Or maybe not...
  20. Mighty

    no sex Mighty's Caption Stories

    So, as much as I would love to be able to write out an entire narrative, I doubt I could maintain the focus or motivation to finish it once I got started. One thing I've always enjoyed is the smaller caption-based stories. It's always more inspirational and immersive to have a picture to reference, and the stories are typically shorter. I figured I'd give it a try. I'll post them all here. Feedback is appreciated, and if you have any particular images or gifs that you'd like to suggest I use, send them to me in a message and I'll take a look at them! As soon as it started to warm up outside, the basketball courts on campus were filled with young guys playing pickup games, and I loved it. Most of the time I didn't even have to have a set plan to go play or a group put together. I could just walk out and join in with a group of guys for a quick game. I'd played some in high school, but I was nowhere near good enough to play college ball. That being said, I could still hold my own against most of the other guys on campus. I was a respectable 6'2, and at 185lbs, I could throw my weight around on the court. One afternoon on my way back from class, I noticed the courts were empty. I figured it wouldn't take long to draw in some other guys, so I grabbed my ball and headed out to shoot some free throws until some other people showed up. I was out there on my own for about fifteen minutes before this dude walked up, dropped his bag by the fence and started walking my way. "How about a quick 1-on-1?" He asked as he walked up. I could tell he was a smaller guy as he came my way, but the closer he got, the further down I had to look at him. He had to be about an entire foot shorter than me, but he looked like a scappy little dude, so I agreed. After about ten minutes, I started to slow it down a bit. I'd never been one to go easy on anybody, but I was running circles around this scrawny little guy. I'd barely broken a sweat, but this kid's shirt was soaked, and he'd not even made a single shot. We were still the only two guys out there, so I didn't want to just walk off and leave him on his own, so I tried to play nice. "Nice hustle!" I complimented him. He hadn't played well, but I could tell he was pretty quick on his feet, and he wasn't about to give up. I tossed him the ball and jogged over to my water bottle. As I refreshed myself, I saw him dribble back to the 3 point line and scope out his shot. He turned to me with a smirk. "Watch this!" He called out to me. He then threw up a beautiful shot from behind the 3 point line, and it swished through the net. My jaw dropped. I couldn't believe this kid who couldn't even lay one up was able to make that shot look so effortless. I gave him a thumbs up and jogged back over to him. "I guess my defense is better than I thought." I said playfully. It was like a fire was suddenly lit in the kid. His footwork started to get more coordinated. He got the ball, took it back again to behind the 3 point line, and before I could get into a good block, he swished another one. I looked down and saw another smirk. At that moment I thought maybe something seemed a little off, but I tried to focus on my game. I made another shot myself, but as soon as he got the ball back in his hands, he doubled back and sank another beautiful three pointer. "Were you trying to hustle me before, little man?" I remarked. As I went for the ball and turned back to see him, I took a visual inventory of the kid, and I was confused. When he walked up to me earlier, his head was barely above my naval, but he had definitely...gotten taller? His head was even with my chest. I wondered if I'd just misjudged his height before. swish! A fourth perfect three point shot. At this point, my competitive nature was taking over. I wasn't about to get shown up. I dodged around him, took the ball back myself and took a shot from downtown. We both watched it sail through the air, make contact with the backboard, and fly back towards the court. Not even close. The little guy darted down the court ahead of me, got the ball, and juked me again to make yet another 3. This time I got the ball and walked over to get another swig of water. He did the same, and as we walked back out onto the court, I got a good look at him. The top of his head was now higher than my pecs. I stopped with the ball in my hand. "Are you...taller?" I asked him. He smirked and then laughed. "Don't like getting your ass handed to you by a little man?" He said with a tinge of sarcasm. He lunged forward, knocked the ball out of my hands and proceeded to dribble past me. At this point, I had to seriously start playing ball. I think it took him by surprise because I was able to keep the ball away from him and score a couple of baskets myself. The serious look on his face became more angry as he shifted his weight, trying to keep up with me. He managed to take the ball, get it back down the court, and sank another 3. This time I let the ball stay under the net for a minute and watched him. He took in a deep breath, rolled his shoulders back, and I saw him grow. It was subtle, but he'd easily added an inch to his height, and at this point I noticed he had some muscle definition on him he didn't have before. I started to really watch him as we played, which was a mistake because he was able to make his next three pointer with little effort. Again, he took a deep breath, and his body grew. I wouldn't have thought anything about his height if he'd come onto the court at his current size. He was probably a comfortable 5'9 or so at this point. His shirt was drenched, and I could see the fabric clinging to an impressive amount of definition. His pecs were impressive, and his arms were filling the sleeves. We both began to play more aggressively. We didn't speak, mostly because we were both breathing so hard. What was initially a friendly game started to look like an intense game of street ball. I wanted to be serious about defending this guy, but there was a big part of me that wanted him to score. I was at conflict with myself. I had an opportunity to snatch the ball, but I hesitated. He used the opportunity to score again. Three more points. This time he grit his teeth as if he was in pain. My eyes were bugging out of my head as his chest began to strain against the soaked fabric. His nipples protruded, visible through the fabric. I heard the threads breaking. He was both packing on some impressive muscle and getting taller. His eyes were now level with my chin. "Don't you dare go easy on me!" He said through gritted teeth. I wanted to respond, but I choked on my words. This time I had the ball and was about to lay up a perfect shot when the little punk shoved me down. His weight took me way off guard as he drove his shoulder into my chest and sent my ass down onto the pavement. I dropped the ball and hopped up as quickly as I could to get after him. He made no attempt to help me up, and instead got the ball back to his magic line and sunk another perfect shot. At this point, I'd lost count of his three pointers. He let out a deep grunt as soon as the ball cleared the net, rolled his shoulders, and his back split through his t-shirt! His neck thickened as his traps rose up, creating obscene definition at this point. He flashed a toothy, gritted smile. He reached down with his hands and peeled the wet, shredded fabric off of his body. I stared intently at his layered abdominals as the the sunlight danced off of the sweaty skin. Even though the shirt was torn, he had a hard time getting it off. The tightness around his neck and biceps took him a bit, and I was in awe of what was happening. He was also getting taller as he was battling the shirt. "Ah, fuck!" He exclaimed. I couldn't see his face because his shirt was coming up over his head, but I could hear pain in his voice. He jerked the wad of fabric up over his head, finally freeing his torso. I heard the shirt tearing more as he eventually pulled it off and tossed it away towards his bag. He immediately dropped down onto his ass and reached for his feet. He was too late to get to his shoes before they literally split open. I'd never seen anything like it. He grabbed at the heel of the sneakers and tore them away from his feet one at a time. He adjusted his socks, which still fit, chucked his destroyed shoes over by the scraps that used to be his shirt and bounced back up to his feet. I took a glance at his basketball shorts as he hopped to his feet. They were previously loose and hung below the knees, but now, the fabric was fighting for space around his muscular quads. I also caught a glimpse of a mass between his legs that was pulling the loose fabric in a way that was awkward and borderline obscene. I quickly brought my eyes upwards, past his cobblestone stomach and heaving pecs to see that he was now every bit 6' tall. I still had a bit of height on him, but I wasn't sure I outweighed him anymore. In his sock feet, he got right back to ball. At this point, I started to play as though I was actively engaging with someone who was a better baller than me. I no longer felt guilty about shoving him, but that was no longer an easy thing to do. It felt as though we weighed about the same, but the dude was hard as a fucking rock. I was able to knock him unsteady a couple of times and get the ball, but he never went down. You would think that he would need time to regain his coordination after growing, but he was immediately aware of how to use his newfound height and mass on the court. I took a risk on a steal, but he shifted his weight, and his thicker back caught me off guard. He spun around, jumped back, and threw up another 3 pointer. I jumped to block, but I was too slow. Swish I had an idea. I quickly ran to the ball, caught it on the dribble, and passed it to him. I figured that maybe if I caught him off guard, he wouldn't be able to grow as much and it might slow him down. I pitched the ball from my chest out towards his with a lot more force than I should have. He'd thrown his head back again as he grew. The ball jetted across the court towards the expanding basketball player. With lightning fast reflexes, his arm jutted out. And he caught the basketball single handed. The basketball settled into the kid's palm as his long, muscular fingers gripped the orange skin of the ball. I heard more tearing and looked down to see his toes explode through the cotton fabric of his socks. Still growing, he took his feet and drug them backwards, tearing off the remains of the socks and releasing a truly impressive set of dogs. I'd never thought of a person's feet as muscular before. Seeing him barefoot, I contemplated offering him a pair of my own sneakers, but I wasn't sure this kid's boats would be able to fit into my own size 13's. Still palming the ball, he walked right up to me. He put his face in mine, and looked me directly in the eye. He said nothing, but he shoved the basketball into my chest without breaking eye contact. The blow knocked the breath out of me. I took a step back, my arms coming up to clutch the ball in my chest as I let out a cough, but I didn't fall. The barefoot beast still had plenty of game in him, but I was running out of steam. He matched me inch for inch, but he definitely had at least twenty pounds on me at this point, and he had every intention of using them. I thought his footwork would suffer more since he'd lost his shoes and socks, but it was like the roughness and heat of the concrete beneath us had no effect on him. I had to play completely defensively. It'd been a while since I had to try to block someone my own height, and it wasn't like I was doing the best job before he got this big. He was only interested in shooting from behind the 3 point line, so I was trying desperately to keep him close to the net. If he got the ball, he would only try to run it all the way back, and I was able to block him out for a bit. Eventually he got the ball away from me and started back, and I darted around him to block him with all of my weight. He went to dart around me, and I stepped back and planted my weight down onto one of his big feet. I felt the hard mass under my heel, and by the time I realized what was happening, he was already crying out in pain. I tried to move back and apologize, but before I could even say anything, he pulled his foot back and aggressively shoved me full force. His huge hands engulfed my chest and I immediately flew back, landing painfully on my ass and back. "FUCK!" We both cried out. It took me a moment to piece together what had happened, and before I could pick myself up from the ground, I saw the orange ball sail over me and heard it swish through the net behind me. Still on the ground, I looked up and was astounded. Anyone who is 6'3" will look like a giant when you're looking up at them from the ground, but this guy was a behemoth. He slowly walked my way, casting a shadow across me as his broadening shoulders eclipsed the sun. I looked up and saw his pecs heave out from his body, creating a meaty shelf. Above the pecs I could see his bull neck thicken, his Adam's apple protruding from his muscular throat. He brought up his arms and flexed his expanding biceps. I hadn't believed that biceps bigger than 20 inches were truly possible, especially for a college guy, but I now had to believe because that's exactly what this kid had hefted over me, and they were still swelling outwards, the cut definition of his biceps and triceps only getting more defined as veins snaked their way up his forearms that looked like bowling pins and onto fists that looked like they could punch a hole right through a man. He surged even taller, and this immense feeling of smallness washed over all of me. I watched a large bead of sweat flow through the deep crevice between his pectorals. As it flowed down through the canyon between his abdominals, it looked suspended in place as gravity pulled it down, but his torso surged upwards. His bare torso expanded in the sun, each muscle group growing larger and more defined from the rest. I kept my eyes in one place, but as he increased in size, my focused was directed from his stomach to his waist. He had increased substantially in girth, but his waistband had not yet conceded as he was still relatively trim for his size. My stomach lurched as I beheld the once loose nylon material was now pulled tight, resembling boxer briefs. Just under the waistband was a piece of anatomy that every man was familiar with, but there was no denying that the equipment he packed was now just as immense as the rest of him. The material was pulled forward and away from his crotch as I watched his absurd bulge grow with the rest of him. The bulk of his thighs hiked the material up, exposing the defined muscle groups of his cedar-like legs. I let my eyes trace down his legs, past his knees and to his lower legs. His calves were definitely bigger than my biceps, easily pushing 20 inches themselves. Under those I was surprised to see how close his toes were to my face. His toes looked long, defined, and dexterous. I'd seen plenty of tall guys with big feet during my basketball days, but I'd never seen feet like these. They were wide and powerful. Thick veins ran across the top, feeding into his thick, muscular ankles. He let out a long, deep sigh. I turned my head back to try and meet the eyes of the mountainous figure towering over me. I couldn't ignore the prominent bulge obtruding from his groin as I continued to crane my neck back. Deep shadows and glistening sweat anointed every facet of his body. Above his striated, meaty pecs and husky neck I could see his cut jawline, a huge, toothy smile, and finally, his eyes, gazing down into mine. He bent down towards me and reached out one of his meaty hands in a gesture to help me to my feet. Shakily, I complied. His hand closed around mine, dwarfing it. I instinctively reached my other hand up and grasped onto his forearm. My fingers stood no chance of reaching all the way around his sizeable wrist. He effortlessly hoisted me up into the air. I barely landed on my feet as he loosened his grip on my hand. I slowly released my hold on his arm. My eyes followed the road map of veins up his forearm and across his brawny upper arms. My eyes moved across his herculean shoulders and chest, and I stopped. My eyes rested at the base of his neck, putting him now several inches taller than my 6'3. I took three steps back so I could easily see his face. He had been wearing that smirk for a bit now. He reached up a hand and placed his palm on my head, closing his fingers around my skull. His bulging bicep was in my face, heat and strength emanating from his muscles. I tried to instinctively pull my head away, but he held it in place. Our eyes locked. I took in a deep breath and my lungs filled with a smell that was a mix of sweat and raw testosterone. "Little man." Is all he said, but his voice had filled out and deepened considerably. His tone was definitely one of using that term to describe me rather than himself. He released his grip on my head and I moved further back, still in awe of how this shrimpy guy transformed into this titanic monster. He swaggered over to the remnants of his socks and scooped them up in a hand. He sauntered over to where he'd left his destroyed shirt and shoes and grabbed them off of the ground. He strut towards the trashcan and threw his clothes away. He then began to move towards me. He was so immense, and his movements were so confident that he was mesmerizing to watch. He effortlessly moved from a slow walk to a run. He darted past me, the smell once again hitting me like a wall as the wind followed his powerful movement. He picked up the basketball and effortlessly jumped into the air before bringing the ball down into an explosive two-handed slam dunk. The ball rocketed down into the pavement. He held tight onto the rim, and I could hear the steel goalpost creak under the force, but it did not bend. He proceeded to preform a handful of effortless pull-ups on the goal before turning himself around to face me and then dropping down onto the court. He met the ground with a thunderous thud, and I was transfixed on his crotch as his cock bounced between his muscular legs, fighting for room. He made his way over to the basketball once more, picking it up and holding as I would have a softball. He then grabbed his water bottle, downing the rest of the water in a single gulp, and picked up his comedically small backpack, sliding it down his forearm. He carried the basketball and his bag back to the 3 point line once more. He looked at me, and I realized I hadn't moved at all since he helped me up. I forced myself to blink and noticed how dry my mouth had gotten. He held the basketball down to his crotch, taking a minute to compare the size of his obscene, round bulge to the size of the basketball. The rotund package protruding from between his massive thighs almost looked as though he had taken a basketball and stuffed it in there. His massive cock and tremendous thighs were pushing the material to its limits. "Thanks for the game." He shouted to me in his deep, booming voice. "But now, I've gotta go play another ballgame." He chuckled to himself as he effortlessly tossed the basketball one more time from the 3 point line. I watched it sail through the air and pass through the net, landing on the cracked pavement below. I didn't go for my basketball or my own bag. Instead, I followed this herculean muscle man off the court as the sound of grunting and tearing fabric could be heard across campus.
  21. Not my work, but I found a book from the 90's that had some muscle growth in it.
  22. Wizard83

    no sex A Good Deed and its Reward

    This story is me testing how to post something with images and a challenge to see if I can write a story of this adult nature on the fly. So please be kind. Also I don't remember where I got the picture, but I'm 90% sure it wasn't on this website. X^D Kevin was just a few months from his 19th birthday, but unfortunately having a bad combo of weak genes and little to no exercise ended up making him look like a shrimpy 16 year old. Light brown hair that he lets grow to his chin cause he still hasn't figured out his "look", and mud brown eyes complete the set as it were. His high school bully, Mitchell would "joke", while shoving him in the nearest locker, that Kevin would make Wally Cox look like Lou Ferrigno. After Kevin looked up who Wally Cox is, (AN: the original voice actor of Underdog) he got his revenge by spreading a rumor that Mitchell likes to wear pink underwear. The stay at the hospital was still worth it. Most of the cheerleaders visited him, feeling sorry for the nice wimp who's good at tutoring, and to talk about how Mitchell is such a jerk and is being transferred to another school. His parents on the other hand...hoo boy. They made it clear that doing petty acts like that would get him in deeper trouble or worse injuries unless he wises up. So Kevin made a private vow to follow the Golden Rule and to not act all ass-holey like the Mitchells of the world. Having graduated with minimum fuss, Kevin decided to get a job for about a year or two before trying college. And hopefully by then, he'll look like his proper age and be taken more seriously. So far, it's not been going well. He got a job cleaning in a motel, which didn't bother him all things considered, but it was how his boss tried to give him below minimum-wage on account of him being "a minor". It took a bit of work to prove it, calling his doctor was sooo embarrassing, but Kevin convinced the boss that he is legal age and deserves the full pay amount per hour. Eight months later. "Ugh." Kevin winces as he pulls someone's bra from behind the side table. "Why do they always forget these things after they check out?! If it's not bottles, or condoms, it's these..." He blushes as he keeps muttering to himself. "and seriously, why do they always buy these big ones? I saw her as she left, she was totally packing socks in there." He takes the cart and moves to the next room. While this really isn't supposed to be that kind of motel, being across the street from a popular bar ended up having drunks, one-night stands, and drunken one-night stands be the main customer base. Still, there would sometimes be more normal people checking in at times. Not this time, though. Kevin knocked on the door at the end of landing just before one reaches the laundry/store room. "Cleaning service! It's after checkout time so I need to get in." "Just a sec." A woman's voice filtered thru the door. Dayum. That voice sounded like sex personified! Kevin had to readjust his coveralls as he got halfway hard just from hearing that. 'Don't make anything of this.' Kevin mentally reminds himself. 'The voice never fits the face. No way she's gonna loo-duuuuuu...' The door opens to reveal that, yep. The face did fit the voice. And the body exceeded expectations. She had an exotic, dark-tanned look that implies northeast Africa or Middle-eastern. Gorgeous hourglass figure in a turquoise, barely reaching the knees, dress that almost looks painted on. Matching Go-Go style boots. Black hair done up in a braided bun, grey eyes that mesmerized and cupid's bow lips that would make any straight man or gay woman to immediately think dirty thoughts. She smiles, which makes Kevin mentally stagger and get harder than he ever did since puberty kicked in. "Thank you for waiting. I hope I didn't make too much of a mess." She walks off towards the lobby. uuuuuuuuhhhhhhhh... Kevin smacks his cheek to snap out of it. And while taking deep breaths to control the pain from below his waist, Kevin starts his routine of changing the bed sheets and praying that there won't be any questionable stain this time. As he pulls the covers back, a wallet flops out of one of the folds. "Aw, crud." Kevin grabs it and rushes to the lobby as fast as he can, wincing all the way. He catches sight of her halfway out the doors. "MISS!" She turns and he will swear for the rest for his life, that she moved in slow-mo with one of those shimmery Hollywood lens effects framing her. A ringlet tickling her cheek from the movement. He nearly trips, feeling a SLAM of arousal hit his entire body, if such a thing is possible. "yes?" She patiently asks. No doubt she's used to men of all ages making idiots of themselves in her presence. "wallet." He wheezes as he holds it out to her while using the other hand to brace himself against the wall. She takes it and smiles even more radiantly than before. "How good of you. And with such a miserable job, the fact you weren't once tempted to keep my cash and credit cards is even more admirable." "Huh?" She places a hand on his chest. Her golden-painted nails carefully gripping the denim. She murmurs something foreign and then lets go. "You have been rewarded. Go live your new life." And with that enigmatic speech and a blinding smile, she leaves. "...the Hell was that?" Kevin shakes his head and walks back to the room to finish. He's gotta clean all the rooms on that floor before his shift ends. Forty minutes later, Kevin wheels the cart into the laundry/store room and writes his time on the work clipboard, hanging on the wall. "uhh..." He wipes his face with his sleeve. He's been feeling way too warm since that sex goddess touched him. What if he's coming down with something? If he has to take a sick day, the boss will just fire him and hire someone even more desperate. He splashes some cold water on his face. After drying, he opens his locker to get his clothes. "The Hell?!" Instead of his clothes, someone replaced them with a black shirt and jeans several sizes larger. "Who did this crap?! I'l-AAARGH" He doubles over as the heat reaches scorching temperatures in his gut. Despite the pain, he manages to stay on his feet. "wha..." He groans as the heat pulses again. It seems to reach every bit of his body. throb throb throb throb He tries to take deep breaths, but his body won't stop shaking. "someone help me!" He tries to call out, but there's no one within hearing range. throb throb throb throb throb With his eyes clenched tight, Kevin doesn't see that he's growing taller. Two inches. Another two inches. Going up till he's around 6'5. His overalls are tight and the leg cuffs are now brushing against his shins. His wrist cuffs are closer to his elbows then his wrists. Then the pain starts to shift. it's still scorching, but it begins to feel...good. Like watching a really great porn good. And the heat feels like the burn Kevin felt the one time he tried a gym out and overdid it. Soaked in sweat, Kevin pants and finds the strength to straighten up. Then he looks at his arm. "wha?" The denim sleeve grows tighter. His arm is swelling. With muscle. His hand grows till it's disproportionate to his body. Then his forearm, with veins sticking out all over the skin, his upper arm, till his shoulder is nearly dodgeball size. The sleeve creaks from barely keeping it together. Kevin breathes harder as his other arm soon follows in size and strength. He stares at the mirror over the sink. Both arms look like they're thicker than his thighs. It's almost cartoonish how over-sized they are. But on the other hand... "This is hot!" Kevin grins. The growing feels so good and his arms are massive. His sleeves are in danger of either cutting off his circulation or breaking apart. He tries that double bicep pose he's seen on the internet and the sleeves just disintegrate into rags with a loud shhrripp sound! "HOLY CRAP!!" Before he can savor tearing his uniform sleeves to pieces, he feels the heat build in his chest. He looks down. throbs throbs throbs throbs throbs The top button breaks off with a ping and flies off somewhere. Then the second one. "Don't stop." Kevin pants as he sees his chest slowly block his view to his feet. "Bigger. Please, keep going! This is so effin hot!" One button ricochets off the mirror with a loud ptink! His pecs jut out more and more, growing into solid muscles with a deeply defined crevice in between till they could give 70s era Schwarzenegger a run for his trophies. Enough buttons broke off to show his bare chest down to the first set of carved-in abs. "I GOT ABS!" He shouts in delight. He moves his fingers over them. A 6-pack that feels like it's made of marble. And damn, touching them feels soo good! By now, Kevin's shaft was rock hard and throbbing in time to the heat that's transforming his body. He tries to unbutton the remaining buttons but his fingers are too large and he's having trouble seeing his waist in the mirror as it's chest high. "Crud." He just grabs his crotch thru the denim and starts massaging. "uuuuuhhhhhhhhh" Kevin was never one for masturbating, whenever he watched porn, he felt too self-conscious about his 5' shaft. But heck with that, he's gotta keep this sensation going! Though it was tricky, with his thick arms reaching around his massive chest, he manages to find the right rhythm and grows more used to working his new limbs. "uuuhhh." He moans and slurs in a haze. "Thas...it's feelin' bigger..." His shaft does very slowly, compared to the rest of his body, grow larger in length and girth. Thankfully, Kevin's in no hurry, it feels so damn good to feel his member grow with each rub and grip. As he keeps touching himself, his waist contracts just a pinch but all the lingering fat converts into raw muscle to support his gigantic upper half. Then the heat moves downward to his increasing ecstasy. He shouts some really filthy words as his rear grows till he looks like he's practically got bowling balls in his pants and just as hard. His briefs barely stay on, only so many threads keeping the structural integrity intact, and the tightness threatens to damage his groin but he doesn't care. His thighs turn as thick as his old waist size and force him to widen his stance, his calves achieve that perfect large diamond shape. The legs of his coveralls rips to shreds. His feet break thru his tatty sneakers with ease. Kevin stomps on each foot to shake off the remains and to get used to his new posture. He steps back a pace to better examine himself in the mirror while still moving his hand over his groin, and moaning from the pleasure. His coveralls are nothing more than shredded rags barely keeping him from being completely naked. Despite his small head and still too-youthful look, his body looks like a urban Tarzan. Then it happens. As he has been massaging his shaft almost non-stop since the changes began, Kevin feels the pressure build and build and all the heat in his entire body converge to the one organ. He screams as his climax hits him as powerful as a bullet hitting glass. The geyser of his seed destroys his briefs and the remains of his coveralls till he's naked and shooting at the mirror, causing minute cracks. THROB THROB THROB THROB THROB THROB Unaware of anything but raw joy and liquid fire erupting from his tool, Kevin doesn't feel the final changes occurring. His head grows more in proportion to his giant body and his features turning to look more early-20s-ish, his hair turning ink-black and shifting to give a almost buzz-cut style. His eye color turns black as well. Facial hair grows over his upper lip, and chin and jawline. His complexion giving off a attractive Latino vibe. The pounding heat keeps him going several seconds longer than all of his past climaxes combined. And far more amazing. After his 12th or 14th stream, he finally feels like he's running out. Bracing his hands on his knees, Kevin rests his chin on his pecs and focuses only on deep breaths. "...holy...shit!" The only sounds in the room besides his breathing, is the drip, drip of his seed from the mirror and overflowed sink. 'I need to see.' He takes one of the biggest clean towels and works on wiping the mirror until it's clean enough to suit him. He steps back far enough so only his waist and down are visible. "SHIT!" His shaft is 10 inches long and still halfway hard and nearly as round as a pop can. Exhausted beyond measure, Kevin forces himself to not touch and to focus on something else. His new clothes. Kevin examines them better now that he's getting more used to moving in this Super-Atlas body. The underwear are basically silky speedos but they fit perfectly and keep his shaft in place without constricting. He wiggles a little, enjoying the sensation of silk whisper over his shaft. Regular jeans but somehow the denim feels smooth against his skin. He makes himself think of Mitchell to stop getting hard again. Though the thought of running into Mitchell in his new body makes him grin an evil grin. Socks. Shoes. Nothing extraordinary other being of higher quality then his usual clothing budget. As he dresses, Kevin doesn't notice that his torn stained clothes, and the mess on the mirror and sink have disappeared. He puts the black shirt on and admires in the mirror that the deep collar gives him awesome "he-vage". He flexes and poses for a few minutes, watching his shirt get tight in places, feeling his jeans move against his rear cheeks, feeling the silk caresses his member. Sucking in a breath, Kevin splashes cool water against his face. He really doesn't have the strength to climax again. Especially if it's gonna be as insane-explosive as before. It'll be fun to find out when he gets home. He checks the rest of his locker for his personal effects. His watch is now the kind that's expensive heavy-duty, can take a lot of punishment, watch. And the latest iPhone model, but it still has all of his games and music. And finally his wallet. 'Oh crap. I don't look anything like me! How am I gonna explain this to Mom and Dad?!' But he relaxes as he looks over the contents. He's got a driver's license, still the same age though now he looks older, which is awesome, and a pic of his new face and in defiance of DMV tradition, his picture flatters him. "I got a car!" He fist pumps. His key ring shows it's a Ford Ranger. "SWEET!" His photo of him with his parents last Christmas shows him in his new body dwarfing his parents with his arms around their shoulders. "Huh." And according to the remaining stuff in his wallet, he now works at the expensive car restoring place downtown. Knowledge of cars, engines of various brands and models, and expertise to handle older, fancy cars floods his brain and he stumbles for a second. "whoa..." And Kevin smiles and gives a silent thank you to that gorgeous woman wherever she is. Once he's got everything he needs in place, Kevin faces the mirror for one last pose. "You are one hot stud!" Grabbing his phone, he takes a selfie. With his latest paycheck deposited in the bank yesterday, Kevin decides to celebrate by heading to that bar across the street. ... Sipping his beer and studying the ladies from his barside seat, Kevin notices a pretty Asian lady. She notices him and smiles. She motions for him to join her at her table. As he walks over, Kevin vows to do a lot more good deeds per week. Who knows what could happen next time? THE END
  23. MuscleNexusTF

    no sex The Bodybuilder Pandemic (Part 2)

    If you haven't read part 1 yet, click here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/18290-the-bodybuilder-pandemic-prologue/ Enjoy Part 2 - Chapter 1 - Waffles Harvey watched incredulously as Bjorn once again picked up his fork with gusto. A shiny drop of syrup dribbled down his chin. He looked like he was in heaven. “You might want to slow down there buddy,” Harvey said. Bjorn stopped chewing for a moment to consider this, but only a moment. Between mouthfuls of food he stammered “I feel like I haven’t eaten in years. These are awesome.” He pointed his green eyes at Harvey’s half eaten waffles. “You going to eat those?” Harvey pushed his plate forward in response and Bjorn got to work on them. “So uh, you said you’re in school?” “Yeah. Computer science. Year 3.” “And you’re not a bodybuilder?” “Dude, do I look like one?” There was real question in his eyes. He had clearly forgotte that, yes, he did in fact look like a bodybuilder. “You do, though maybe not for long.” Harvey glanced at the pancakes and then back at Bjorn, eyebrows raised. To his surprise the massive man sitting across from him dropped his fork and pushed the plate away. “I was just kidding! Besides, big guy like you needs the calories I’m sure.” Was he flirting? Harvey considered this for a moment. He realized he probably was and that was okay. “Nah, you’re right. I don’t know what’s going on but this is my chance. I’m not going to blow it by getting fat!” “Your chance at what?” Before he could answer the waiter appeared. “How are you two fellas doing?” He stared at the bigger man. Harvey might as well been invisible. Bjorn looked at Harvey, clearly suddenly shy. Harvey rolled his eyes and answered for his awkward new friend. “Great. Thanks. Just the bill please.” Bjorn started to protest Harvey paying for the whole bill, but he wouldn’t hear it. The waiter scooped up the plates and turned towards the kitchen. --- The waiter’s name was Kiran Buckley. He was 22, enrolled at the same college as Bjorn, and did not want to be at work. He ran his tongue across his teeth back and forth. He was nearing the end of his shift and couldn’t wait to be off work. He put the plates down for the Waffle House’s dishwasher and turned to his coworker, who was sipping a cup of coffee and also feeling pretty done with the night’s work. “Did you see the freak at table three,” he said to her. “He’s hot, you should give him your number.” “I don’t go for big guys like that. Not my type.” “I thought gay guys were all about the muscles and big dicks.” “Not me.” She shrugged and put her attention back into her coffee cup. Kiran stared at the bodybuilder chatting and the little older guy he was with. He had half-lied to his coworker. It was true that he usually wasn’t interested in muscle, but something about this guy cuaght his attention. He was different than the loud obnoxious jocks that sometime came in and made Kiran’s shift a living hell. The bodybuilder was quiet, shy actually, and sort of reminded the waiter of himself… He looked at the plates he had just cleared. Still a few bites of waffle. He looked around, this wasn’t his first time doing this. He wasn’t even hungry, he just liked the thrill of it. He stuffed the last bites in his mouth and gulped them down. “That’s disgusting.” His coworker’s eyes judged him over the steaming cup of coffee. She took a sip. “You’re going to get bodybuilder cooties,” she joked. “What even is that?” Kiran rolled his eyes. “It was just a joke.” “You’re a joke.” She laughed. “Probably. C’mon, half an hour to close. Lets get everyone paid and out that door.” “Okay.” The waitress emptied the rest of the coffee down her throat and set it down. Her and Kiran parted ways, both with credit card machine in hand-nobody paid with cash anymore. Kiran first hit up the bodybuilder and his friend. They paid and left. He went from table to table and slowly the late night clientelle of the Waffle House began to trickle out. As he made his way around the restauranthe found himself feeling restless, perhaps a little hot too. He tugged at the collar of his uniform as he felt a bead of sweat run down his back. Kiran hated being sweaty, even though it basically came with the job of waitering. “That’ll be 22 dollars,” he said to a sleepy looking couple in a booth by the window, he placed the credit card machine on the table with a loud THUNK. “Woah, sorry there, little heavy handed tonight.” The couple ignored him as the man inserted his credit card and began tapping on the buttons. Kiran flexed his hand open and closed in front of his face. He watched as little muscles bulged and undulated in his forearms. That was weird. Did they look bigger? They definitely looked bigger he decided. He also noticed some big veins crossing them that he’d never seen. Gross. “Hey,” the male patron tapped Kiran on the elbow. “We’re all done here.” “Thanks,” Kiran said distracted. “Have a good night.” He looked at his coworker with an irritated grimace and she came over to him. “You okay Kiran? You look a little… Pale.” “No. It’s too damn hot in here.” “No it’s not.” She looked at him for a beat before her eyes grew wide and a mischievous grin spread across her face. “Oooooh, told you, bodybuilder cooties.” “Shut up.” “Okay,” she turned to attend to some more tables. “No, wait. Can you finish up? I think I need to use the bathroom.” She tossed her hands up and shrugged, “whatever.” Kiran headed towards the bathroom. His head swam and his steps felt heavy and awkward. Feeling completely off balance, he swayed slightly as he cut his way through the sea of diner tables. He suddenly felt really heavy in his crotch, like a massive warm mass had settled in his cock and balls. He felt the former expanding as it began to grow hard. Not now, Kiran thought, that’s weird as hell. He wasted no time slipping into the staff washroom and slamming the door shut behind him. He locked it and jiggled the doorknob to double check the lock. Kiran didn’t know what was going on but the pulsing heat from his crotch and whatever affliction had taken over his body promised him that privacy would be an asset in the coming minutes. Kiran tried to worry about the sick feeling that enveloped him. His body ached as if he was in the worst phase of a bad flu. And he could feel his heartbeats in his head, each with a dull thud of pain. But he couldn’t focus on those things, all his attention was on his swollen, throbbing cock. “What do you want?!” He whispered angrily to it. It didn’t reply, but he stumbled forward awkwardly as the seat of his pants suddenly gave out. He felt behind him and gaped in confused shock. The globes of his ass had bubbled with muscle so much that they tore right through his jeans. He flexed and bounced them with his hands still feeling himself appreciatively. “Well I won’t complain about that,” he whispered to himself through gritted teeth. He suddenly had an odd, and somewhat horrible idea. What if his whole body was changing like his ass? Kiran didn’t mind having a muscled bubble butt, that still fit his aesthetic. But he’d be damned before looking like that bodybuilder freak from table 3. The palms of his hands slowly made their way up his hips, over some abs which did feel slightly blockier. That’s okay too, he thought. He winced as he felt them move over and then come to rest on a pair of newly juicy pecs. “Ah shit,” he said, not bothering to whisper anymore. He looked in the mirror and everything seemed to happen at once. He saw and heard his shirt begin to give out as his chest heaved through it. A split began in his collar and slowly crept down towards his abdomen as the thick muscle behind it swelled bigger and harder. As his shirt tore away there was no mistaking what he was becoming. His arms were stuffed inside his sleeves with a hose like vein protruding from them and running down his biceps towards veiny ham-like forearms. He looked at his hands with little recognition. The dainty fingers of Kiran past were replaced by meaty sausages. Texting is going to be a lot harder with those, he thought dryly. A pang from his dick brought one thickened hand down, and he gave himself a couple tugs before pulling his attention back on the mirror. How the fuck do I stop this?! He thought with renewed panic. Kiran had been so busy staring at the expanding musculature of his body that he hadn’t bothered to glance up. But if he had he would’ve been horrified to find a face that wasn’t quite what he was used to. He had all the same features, he was unmistakeably Kiran, but the edges of his face were sharper, more square. To most people he would now look much older than 22 now, but to those in the know he’d look like a 22 year old that had been hitting the juice hard since his teen years. He sighed a little as he felt his heartbeat begin to slow, the wooshing left his ears and the full effects of his transformation were clear to see. His sleeves had since split apart and his oversized limbs hung from the tatters awkwardly, giving them the look of a dumb ape’s. His pants were obliterated, revealing massively muscled quads, hams, and calves that were covered with cords of veins. His cock stood proudly from his overdeveloped lower body, as if to signal its appoval. Kiran put a beefy hand around it with the intention of relieving the tension that still throbbed uncomfortably there, but it flinched away as he heard a knock at the door. “Yeah?” He managed to yell out. He was both shocked and not-shocked to find that his voice had lowered into a smooth growl. “First off,” his coworker began, “you sound like shit and I hope you’re okay. But more importantly you better get out here and look at the news.” “Uh.” Kiran couldn’t imagine coming out of the bathroom looking the way he did, no matter what calamity was happening outside. “Unless you’re still puking or whatever. Then just look on your phone.” Kiran heard her footsteps retreating and fished his phone from the wreckage of his jeans on the floor. There were multiple news notifications from just the past few minutes. He pressed the first one with a clumsy oversized finger. A headline appeared: MYSTERIOUS ILLNESS: RESIDENTS ADVISED TO STAY INSIDE. He scrolled down. ‘Multiple cases have been confirmed of an infectious agent that causes spasms, confusion, and rapid muscle growth. So far transmission has only been observed from sharing body fluids. All residents advises to stay home until further information.’ Kiran sat back on the cool tile of the bathroom, cushioned by the powerful globes of his bubble butt. He tucked in his hairy diamnond shaped calves and let his head fall against the wall. His mind immediatley flashed back to the bites of that bodyuilder’s waffles and for the second time that night he said to himself “ah shit.” For more like this and to continue the story please follow me on Patreon (currently running a promo where every new patron gets a custom story - just DM me on Patreon after subscribing).
  24. Quería presentarles mi primera historia. Tengo otras empezadas.. que son hojas y hojas de word, pero nunca las termino, y queria experimentar con un formato corto de capitulo unico. Es simple, pero espero les guste y dejen sus comentarios para intentar hacerlo mejor una proxima ----------------------------------------- Con un leve pánico me apuré en la cocina. Me froté el antebrazo por la frente para secar mi sudor y quitarme algunas manchas de harina… aunque la prioridad de momento era darme prisa. Genial! Los ocho medallones de carne en el horno parecian estar listo y desde la sala,con su voz gruesa, podia escuchar sus impacientes quejas. “Vamos, RAPIDO! tengo hambre!” Retiré la carne de la bandeja del horno y un poco mas aliviado, fui armando la última tanda de hamburguesas para ponerlas junto a las otras. Para agilizar, ya tenia la lechuga, el tomate y los panes rebanados. Todo listo: 24 hamburguesas, las 10 patas de pollo al horno y una generosa fuente de Lasagna. Subí todo al carrito y empujé hasta la sala. Allí aguardaba él. Roger, el hombre mas grande inimaginable parado frente a mi, con su imponente estatura y tan ancho como el portal de la puerta. Me sentia insignificantemente pequeño a su lado -y lo era-. Aunque un fisicoculturista profesional también sentiria lo mismo. Vi en su rostro una señal complaciente y enseguida tomó las patas de pollo, que entre sus dedos gruesos parecian de juguete y con una simple supción, como si fuera una paleta de niños, extrajo la carne del hueso. Una, dos, tres.. podia llevarse varias a su boca al mismo tiempo. Cuando se habian acabado, extendí la fuente con hamburguesas por sobre encima de mi cabeza. Él levantó la bandeja, la inclinó sobre su boca y dejó simplemente que las hamburguesas cayeran dentro. Lo mismo hizo con la segunda fuente, y mientras tragaba y tragaba, y veía que las hamburguesas iban desapareciendo rapidamente, yo sólo rogaba que la comida fuera suficiente. Crucé los dedos para toda la ración alcance al calmar al apetito del gruñón. “BURRRPPPP...Pero... ¿esto es todo?!” se quejó decepcionado al ver que el carrito ya estaba vacio. La fuente de Lasagna extra que habia adicionado no fue alcanzó a saciarlo. El cuerpo me temblaba un poco.. y es que estaba agotado. Estaba tan exhausto de pasar la mayor parte de mis dias cocinando sin parar, que creo haber perdido algo de peso. Podia notarlo en la holgura de mis pantalones. Pero es que, el apetito de Roger se habia vuelto tan demandante que apenas tenía tiempo libre para descansar. De pronto mis pies dejaron de tener contacto con el suelo. Miré hacia abajo y estaba flotando a un metro del suelo. Roger me habia jalado de la camiseta, y con nuestros ojos frente a frente me reclamó “MAS, QUIERO MAS! ALIMÉNTAME MARCO, QUIERO MAS. MAS COMIDA”. El corazón casi se me para de un susto ante esa exigencia en tono amenazante. Y aqui estaba yo. Otra vez en la cocina amasando, y recordando aquellos dias. Admito que tengo la culpa.. aunque ya de nada sirve. Era demasiado tarde ¿como no pude preverlo antes? A menos de un año del primer encuentro, los recuerdos eran tan frescos como si hubiese sido ayer. * * * Miré el reloj, y allí sobre una mesa del rincón del café aguardaba sentado un apuesto morocho. El hombre se puso de pie y extendió su mano para saludarme cordialmente. “Soy Roger” me dijo a los ojos. Teniamos la misma altura, aunque él rellenaba mejor su camisa. Se notaba que era un sujeto que gustaba del entrenamiento. Podria haberle hecho algunos comentarios sobre eso, pero preferí ir directamente al grano. Saqué de mi maletín un frasco con 15 comprimos proteicos y le indiqué que ayunas, tomara uno cada Lunes. Este suplemento, que prometía mejorar la masa muscular y el rendimiento de un atleta, lo habia creado yo. No fue nada fácil. Pasé noches y noches desvelado investigando e intentando decifrar algunas misterios del ADN, las celulas y algunos asuntos metabolicos relacionados, hasta finalmente lograrlo. Las pruebas en laboratorio fueron exitosas, y era momento de avanzar un paso mas. Ya estaba decidido en probarla en un humano, pese a que esos imbéciles del consejo interamericano de ciencia me denegaran el permiso. Pero no me importaba, no iba a parar. No iba a dejar que un grupo élite me negaran la posibilidad de ser reconocido como el autor de la pildora proteica que revolucionaría la industria del deporte, y que me llevaría a lo mas alto de la fama y el prestigio cientifico. Asi fue como todos los Domingos, Roger comenzó a visitarme para un chequeo semanal, y la experiencia estaba resultando positiva. No dejaba de expresarme lo enérgico que se sentía, y en como cada semana superaba sus cargas. “¿Porque no te quitas la camisa para que pueda verte mejor?” le sugerí el último dia del tratamiento. Roger se quitó la camisa y comenzó a flexionar sus músculos frente a mi. El estaba maravillado con los resultados obtenidos en esos tres meses y con la atencion extra que recibia en el gimnasio, y las miradas al transitar por la vía pública. Yo no podia menos que acompañar mi elogio con unas caricias sobre sus brazos. Yo tambien estaba maravillado al comprobar la efectividad del exitoso tratamiento. Se sentian duros incluso en reposo. Saqué una cinta métrica del cajón y lo envolvi sobre el abultado biceps de Roger. “Excelente!.. 41 centimetros!”. Eso eran 4 centimetros en comparación al registro inicial. Intenté controlar mis emociones.. pero era único y placentero ese sabor del exito de haber creado al adonis que tenia enfrente mio. Y mas al comparar el número que arrojaba la báscula. El peso corporal de Roger se habia disparado de 80 kilos a 97!. Y esos numeros no mentían. No hacia falta ver un numero en una báscula para darse cuenta que todos los músculos del atleta se habian engrosado como si hubiese entrenado por años. Bastaba verle como ese jean se pegaba a esos voluminosos cuadriceps y sinuosos gemelos, y en como la camisa también le calzaba notoriamente mas ajustada, al punto en el que ya no era le era posible abrocharse el botón superior ante la presión de sus carnosos pectorales. Me contaba además que con su nuevo tamaño y fuerza habia desplazado al muchacho mas grande y fuerte del gimnasio en el cual entrenaba. Que orgullo sentía haber creado a tal semental. Contemplé su musculatura y de impulsivo le lancé una pregunta. La maldita pregunta. “¿Acaso no te gustaria verte un poco mas grande y fuerte?”. En caso de aceptar la propuesta, le pedí que solo debia cumplir una unica condición: pasar las próximas semanas en casa. Necesitaba tenerlo cerca para estudio médico. No estaba tan seguro del efecto biologico que podria traer una extensión del tratamiento, pero mi sed de cientifico deseaba ir por mas. Cuando mayor fuese el éxito, mayor sería mi prestigio. Ya podía imaginarme en la tapa de los principales magazine de ciencia del mundo. Roger se mudó a casa, y para su sorpresa yo le habia montado un gimnasio hogareño en el garage para que pudiera entrenar a diario. Tenía barras, discos, mancuernas y bancas reclinables.Estaba encantando de tenerlo como huesped, y con la excusa de alcanzarle un bocadillo, yo me apoyaba en la puerta del garage, y me quedaba viendo como sus músculosos se tensaban en cada movimiento. Era como arte en movimiento, y el brillo del sudor recorriendo los surcos de sus brazos, sus hombros y sus pectorales lo hacia mas imponente ¡Que placer cocinarle a un hombre musculoso como él! Roger progresaba asombrosamente. Las mancuernas de 40 kilos las levantaba con una mano como quien alza un libro y en pocos dias, no tenía con que vestirse. Sus pantalones parecian pintados sobre sus cuadriceps, y tenía dificultades para hacerlo subirlo mas alla de sus turgentes y fibrosas nalgas. Sus camisas tampoco se salvaban. Un movimiento o una flexión a medio hacer, ya era suficiente para reventar las costuras. Se hizo momento de actualizarle el talle a uno o dos mas acorde a su nuevo tamaño, asi que visitamos al Mall. Antes del volvernos con todas las bolsas, paramos por unas rosquillas. Roger tenía hambre, y no importaba que se atraque con una docena de rosquillas rellenas, su indice de grasa corporal se mantenía estable. Me giré para ver a mi alrededor pude comprobarlo. “Tenias razón muchacho…”. La gente que pasaba a su lado lo quedaba mirando, y algunas chicas -y tambien chicos- lo codiciaban con la mirada. Increiblemente exitoso! El Peso de Roger se habia incrementado de 97 a 99 kilos en la primera semana… de 99 a 104 kilos en la segunda y de 104 saltó a 112 kilos para la tercera semana. Para el término del primer mes en casa, el muchacho habia alcanzado unos impresionantes 120 kilos, y por supuesto que yo acompañaba los festejos como si los numeros me fuesen propios. Su exito, era mi exito. “Doc, usted se esta encogiendo?” Me preguntó en confianza, y una mueca engreida. Oh! ¿como no pude notarlo antes?! Al tenerlo frente a frente, nuestros ojos ya no estaban alineados a la misma ahora. Delante de mis ojos tenía a su nariz. Miré hacia abajo para chequear si no era algun efecto visual del calzado, o algun tipo de broma.. pero estaba descalzo. No podia creerlo! y con esfuerzo para contener mi entusiasmo ante tal descubrimiento, fui en busca de una cinta métrica. Roger habia pasado el metro ochenta. ¡1,83 metros, Para ser mas preciso!. No solo venia aumentando su masa muscular mas rapidamente, sino que ademas también sumó 4 centimetros a su escultural cuerpo. Un efecto colateral gratamente impensado. Pero si creia que esos números eran asombrosos, no habria adjetivos para describir los que vería en las siguientes semanas: 1,84… 1,85… 1,87… Para el final de otro mes tuve que ponerme en punta de pie para leer su altura. Ya media casi un metro noventa!. Los dias seguian pasando, y sus hombros se elevaban mas y mas por sobre el nivel de mis ojos. Cada vez tenia que inclinarme mas para hablarle, y esos carnosos pectorales comenzaban a eclipsarle el rostro cuando me miraba desde arriba. “¿Quedó un poco mas de Lasagna?.. aún tengo hambre” Un plato de pasta ya no era capaz de saciar el creciente apetito de Roger. Tampoco dos. Se necesitaba mas que eso para cubrir el gasto enérgetico que su tono muscular en expansión le demandaba. Desde el punto de vista del experimento era grandioso…pero tambien admito que la situación se estaba volviendo un poquito inquietante. Y algo mas cansadora. Necesitaba pasar algo mas de tiempo en la cocina para preparar un mayor volumen de comida, acorde a su tamaño. “Mierda!”. Tomé nota de otros 7 nuevos kilos y 3 centimetros que habia crecido mi huesped en los últimos siete dias, y al trazarlos en un gráfico la situacion era preocupante. Sus progresos eran cada vez mayores, y la sospecha ya era un hecho. Al ver como la curva de crecimiento mostraba signos de aceleración, me vi en la drástica decisión de suspenderle la ingesta de la pildora proteica. Bien podría haber cancelado el tratamiento, pero... ¿dejar que se regrese a su casa?. No, lo queria conmigo! Despues de todo, ver semejante hombre con ese torso tan masculino que parecia haber sido esculpido por los dioses griegos, paseando por la sala con apenas un shortcito ajustado que no dejaba nada a la imaginación, era todo un privilegio. No podia privarme de ese deleite para la vista, asi que opté reemplazar los comprimido proteicos por unos simple comprimido para el dolor de cabeza. El plan no funcionó. El crecimiento de Roger no se detenía y sus números seguian subiendo mas y mas. Pasadas tres semanas mas, necesité subirme a una silla para poder extender la cinta métrica hasta la cima de su cabeza. “Me siento enorme!!, Doc HAHAH” No era para menos..¡2,14 mts!. Tan alto como un basketbolista pero grueso como un fisicoculturista. Los umbrales de la puerta presentaban grietas y marcos por sus descuidos.. Algunas veces olvidaba agachar su cabeza al pasar de una habitacion de la casa a otra, y otras veces, por bruto sus hombros y dorsales impactaban contra los bordes. Roger flexionó sus brazos para mi, y al contraerlos, unas abultadas bolas se inflaron tan altas como mi cara. Tremendo biceps! Lo envolví con la cinta métrica, que a ojo calculé serian de unos 48 centimetros pero me quede corto. ¡51 centimetros! Eso explicaba porque cuando se lo apreté entre mis manos, no logré cubrir toda la circunsferencia por completo. Con esos brazos y esa espalda ancha era fácil saber porque reventaban las costuras de sus camisas. Admito que sentía placer al ver mi obra maestra poniendose enorme. Pero contradictoriamente al mismo tiempo mi preocupación aumentaba fuertemente cada dia mientras veia como su cabeza se acercaba mas y mas al techo. ¿como era posible que continuara creciendo sin el suplemento?? Y mas alarmante era el ritmo en el que lo venia haciendo. Ya ni el talle 4XL podia contener terrible lomo. Y tampoco los muebles de la casa se salvaban. No habia material de la sillas que pueda resistir a ese mole de 181 kilos en la mañana. que para la noche la cifra habia ascendido a 192. Pero yo no tenía tiempo para repararlas, ni para comprar otras.. debia pasar mi tiempo cocinando, cocinando y cocinando para él. * * * “APÚRATE QUE TENGO HAMBRE...MAS RAPIDO, MARCO. DAME COMIDA!” Fui corriendo a llevarle la nueva tanda de pizzas recien amasadas. Con cada bocado que tragaba, yo veía pasivamente como sus músculos se hinchaban. Lo habia entendido, aunque muy tarde. Las calorias eran el combustible para que siga creciendo. No tenía certezas de por cuanto tiempo mas el gigante que esta cerca de duplicarme duplica en altura seguirá creciendo, pero a ese ritmo muy pronto su cabeza chocará contra el techo. Quizá en un par de dias… o en horas. “MAAAAS” siguió reclamándome. Con todo lo que se comió en minutos, podria haber alimentado a un equipo completo de rugby. Pero ni eso era suficiente para calmar al insacible. Queria mas! “MAS. Mas, Marco. MAAAAAAS!”
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