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This is a new story I've been working on (a similar size and length to my last big story Deano, Again) which centres around a group of bodybuilders sharing a flat in Manchester. Unlike my last few stories, this one features completely new characters and has no connection to the Muscle University/Deano series. However, as with most of my stories, there are a couple of nods and references to past stories and characters. This story doesn't stray too far from what people know me for. However, unlike my previous stories which were all told from the point of view of just one character, this one features multiple points of view with the chapters mostly alternating between two of the flatmates. On a final note - this first chapter is the longest of the story so if you're slightly put off by the length I promise you that most of the follow-up chapters are considerably shorter! MUSCLE LADS, INC. ONE NICK My heart is pounding as I approach the big red brick building with green framed windows Google Maps has been guiding me towards for the last twenty minutes. This is ridiculous. Why am I so nervous? Okay - that’s a stupid question. I KNOW why I’m nervous. I know why my stomach’s currently doing somersaults and why my heart feels like it’s in my throat. Because I’m about to meet Alfie Winters and Danny King. Two of the best young amateur bodybuilders in Manchester. Probably in the whole country, for that matter. Two bodybuilders I’ve admired and followed on Instagram for years. I couldn’t believe it when I saw Alfie’s Instagram Story this morning. It almost felt too good to be true. Maybe it actually is? And obviously, I was nervous when I sent him that DM telling him I was interested. I doubted whether I should. But I knew that if I didn’t take a chance and send him that message, I’d end up regretting it. And then Alfie sent me a reply which was SO fucking friendly and my head has been spinning with all of these thoughts and hopes and fantasies ever since. And yet - as I stand at the front door of the building Alfie and Danny live in and scan the buzzer for flat number seventeen, all I can think is - what the hell are these two incredible bodybuilders going to think when they open the door to an average sized, awkward looking, nerdy guy in glasses? Okay, so “average-sized” is a bit misleading. I’ve actually done two bodybuilding competitions. The first one was last summer after I’d finished university. And the second one was just last weekend. I came fourth in the junior category of a local show back home in Leicester. Which explains why I'm currently abnormally tanned and have been getting weird looks from people on the street for the past week. But despite the still shredded abs and leg striations currently hiding under my hoodie and jeans, it still feels a little weird to describe myself as a bodybuilder. Like if I actually said to someone, “I’m a bodybuilder”, there’s a very good chance they’d look me up and down and screw up their face in confusion. Maybe I’m being a bit hard on myself. Because, while I’m definitely no bull-necked Montgomery University-type tank struggling to fit through doorways by the time they’re twenty-one, I have got quite a bit of muscle on my six-foot frame. My arms are pretty thick for a start. Enough for heads to turn when I walk down the street wearing a t-shirt or vest during the summer. But by bodybuilding measures, I’m still pretty lean. I guess I’m one of those guys who looks pretty average and then shocks everyone by lifting up his t-shirt to reveal a set of shredded fucking abs. Hopefully, all of that will change in the next few years. That’s the goal anyway. To pack on more size. To keep learning. To keep growing. To keep getting better. So that one day I can proudly say “I’m a bodybuilder” with conviction and without fear of being laughed at. To be just as good as the two bodybuilders whose doorstep I’m now standing on and whose flat I’m now buzzing as my heart hammers in my chest. To maybe even be on the same bodybuilding stage as one or both of them one day competing alongside them. A deep voice comes through the intercom saying hello. I think it might be Alfie rather than Danny but I can’t quite say for sure. “Ummm. Hi,” I say back, awkwardly. “It’s Nick. To see the room?” The voice says something I can’t quite catch, a buzzing noise comes through the speaker and I hear the click of the front door opening. At this point, my nerves are off the charts. And they only get worse when I climb the stairs to the third floor. They only really start to ease when I’m suddenly faced with the image of Alife Winters filling up the door frame to his and Danny King’s flat. His big, round shoulders and jacked arms are bulging out of an Army-like olive green vest to a ridiculous degree. And the top of his thick pecs is spilling out of the material. Wow. I mean - seriously wow. He’s much bigger in the flesh. Is this guy really only a couple of years older than me? A wave of inferiority sweeps through me. Maybe I shouldn’t have worn this bloody hoodie so Alfie and Danny could see my impressively thick and still bronzed arms? Something flickers across Alfie’s face when he spots me. I don't know if it’s surprise or disappointment or something else. Maybe I look bigger in my pictures on Instagram? But then his face transforms into a welcoming smile which relaxes me instantly. “Nick, yeah?” “Yep!” I reply, smiling back. Partly to be friendly. Partly because it’s pretty hard not to smile at the image of a jacked up muscle plug of a short-arsed bodybuilder spilling out of his vest who’s not entirely unattractive face-wise and who’s standing in front of you ready to welcome you into your flat. I also can’t help thinking how considerate it is that he decided to wait for me this way to save me from wandering the halls looking for the flat number. “You found it all right, then?” Alfie asks. “Yep. Just about!” I have no idea why I said that because I had no trouble finding the flat at all. “Jesus,” Alfie says, looking up at me as I follow him through the doorway and enter the flat. “How tall are you?” “Ummm. Six foot,” I reply, suddenly becoming very aware of the height difference between us. He must only be about five foot seven at the most. “I knew I should have put a height restriction on the ad,” Alfie jokes, as we enter a room made up of a living room on one side and a kitchen area on the other. “So this is the lounge. Kitchen's over there,” Alfie says. “The TV’s mine. But, you know … use it as much as you want. We’ve got Netflix.” The room is bright, spacious and modern with big comfy-looking blue sofas and a huge television. The far back wall has exposed bricks. I think property agents and landlords would probably market this as a New York style apartment. I’ve seen a couple of similar flats described as such in my search for a place to live in Manchester over the past few days. The only clue that bodybuilders live here is a big poster of Mitchell “The Machine” Murray squeezing out a brutal crab most muscular with his mouth wide open stuck to the wall above one of the sofas. Muscle exploding. Veins everywhere. Attitude through the roof. I wonder what my parents will say about that when they drop me off. IF they drop me off here. That’s a big if. “You a fan?” Alfie asks, looking from me to the poster of Mitchell Murray. He’s got an almost teasing smirk on his face which makes me feel instantly nervous. I swear my cheeks are getting flushed. “Mmmm,” I say, looking away from Alfie and back to the grotesque muscle screaming for my attention from the wall of the living space. “Isn’t everyone?” I look back at Alfie Winters who’s giving me this big, warm grin. Did I mention the fact that Alfie Winters is kind of cute? Okay - more than just kind of. He’s got these small boyish features. A button nose. Nicely styled brunette hair. I wonder if he’s ever felt self-conscious about his ears. It’s not that they’re big. But they’re quirky-shaped and kind of stick out. They’re like little pixie ears. Somehow they just make him more attractive though. I’m suddenly pulled from my thoughts and my insides tighten. Because the other bodybuilder who lives here has just walked into the room. A bodybuilder who’s even bigger and more well-known than Alfie Winters. Unlike Alfie though, Danny King is covered up by a black hoodie with the words Panther’s Gym written on the front. No guesses as to which of the two most hardcore bodybuilding gyms in Manchester Danny attends. But even though he’s covered up, he looks like a right fucking tank. I know exactly what’s hiding under that hoodie. Thick slabs of hard, shredded meat. Gorgeous thick pecs. Blocky abs. Big, boulder shoulders. How twenty-five year old Danny King is still an amateur is anyone’s guess. It can't be long before he gets his pro card. There are so many contrasts between Alfie and Danny. Danny’s much taller. I'd say about the same height as I am. And where Alfie’s cute and boyish-looking, Danny’s kind of rough around the edges, but still handsome. Really handsome actually. He’s got brunette hair which is shaved at the sides and medium length on top. A strong jaw. He looks like a bit of a lad’s lad, I guess. The type of guy who I'd never have been friends with at school. I know I only just met the guy, but I’m also not getting the same warm, friendly vibes that I get from Alfie. There’s something about him which is kind of intimidating. Okay - very intimidating. “Danny, mate - this is Nick,” Alfie says. “The guy about the room?” Danny King gives me a half-hearted nod and mumbles, “All right,” with an unimpressed look on his face. My heart sinks to the pit of my fucking stomach as Danny turns away and heads into the kitchen area. I think I now know why someone coined the phrase ‘never meet your idols’. “I’ll show you the room,” Alfie says, seemingly unfazed by Danny’s less-than-friendly welcome towards me. As I follow him, I can’t help taking a sneaky look back at Danny, who’s now got his broad back to me, making himself a shake in the kitchen. The big cushions that make up his arse bulging underneath and stretching the material of his black joggers. I’m not being funny - but if a potential new flatmate is coming around to view a room in your flat, shouldn’t you at least make a bit of an effort with him? Is it me? Did Danny and Alfie discuss what type of flatmate they wanted beforehand and decided an absolute must was that he had to be a seasoned bodybuilder? And then I showed up with my two bodybuilding trophies and barely there calves? I’m tempted to ask Alfie if Danny is okay but it feels like it would be a weird question considering I literally just met the guy. As I follow him into the room, my eyes go down to the thick arse cheeks nestled into Alfie’s grey shorts, then further down to the thick calf muscles bulging off the back of his lower legs, then further down to the bright yellow socks he’s wearing which are patterned with little watermelons. I bite my lip to cover up my smile. Alfie Winters does this thing on Instagram where he poses in his (always shiny and hot as fuck) trunks and a pair of novelty socks pulled up to his ankles. It’s a sort of quirky little thing he’s known for doing. And people go mad for Alfie Winter’s novelty socks. Me included. Even if I’m not that vocal about it. “So where do you live at the moment, mate?” Alfie asks me as I scan the bright, decent-sized bedroom I can definitely see myself living in. “Oh, erm … with my parents in Leicester. That’s where I’m from,” I explain, turning around to see Alfie with his short thick arms folded across his chest. Must. Not. Stare. (Is drooling okay though?) “So why Manchester?” “Ummm. Well, my best friend lives here. I used to come and visit her when she was at uni and … I just kinda love it here, I guess. I’ve already got an internship here.” “Oh cool. What doing?” “Digital Marketing. It’s working for an agency.” “That sounds pretty mint,” Alfie enthusiastically replies in his cute Mancunian accent. “You can give me some tips for Instagram,” he adds with a grin so cute I’m now wondering how sensible it is to move in which a lad you’re probably going to fall in love with in the space of a week. “You’re, erm … a personal trainer, aren’t you?” As soon as the question escapes my lips I feel a sharp panic. I don’t want Alfie Winters to think I’ve been stalking him on Instagram or anything. Something flickers across his face and his lips briefly curl into an ominous little grin which makes me feel like I’ve just been rumbled. “Yeah. Just one of the high street gyms. And I’ve got a few sponsors too. So … are you gonna be a Muscle Factory boy when you move here?” he asks with a teasing look. I fail not to smirk back and nod. “Yeah. I think so!” Alfie playfully squints at me. “Yeah - I don’t really see you as a Panthers guy,” he teases. Before I have a chance to reply, Alfie shoots me another question. “You’re a Classic Physique guy, yeah?” I feel like I’ve just been winded. I know for a fact my face just dropped. “Ummm. Nah. Bodybuilding.” Alfie’s expression flickers like he’s realised what he’s said and he awkwardly nods. “I’ve just done, like, a few shows,” I explain. “Nothing major.” “And now you’re moving to Manchester to train at The Muscle Factory and become a shredded monster?” he teases with a cheeky smirk, redeeming himself for his earlier blunder. I bite my lip and grin back, feeling a little sheepish all of a sudden. We drift back into the living room and I feel both nervous and excited at the prospect of facing Danny King again. He’s sitting on one of the sofas with his face buried in his phone. He looks like such a monster just casually sitting there in his hoodie and joggers. With his veiny hands and his annoyingly good looks. He doesn’t even look up when we sit on the other sofa. Which feels kind of rude. “So, ummm … have you got many people looking at the room?” I ask. Alfie looks at Danny, who still isn’t looking up. “Just another guy later, but … you messaged us first, so …” I feel a jolt of excitement. But that quickly vanishes. Because NOW Danny looks up. He gives Alfie a pointed look, his eyebrows furrowed. As if he strongly disagrees with the suggestion that the room is mine just because I messaged Alfie first. And now I know that it’s definitely me. That this guy clearly has some kind of problem with me. Then Danny looks at me, not smiling. Just … looking at me. This kind of unnerving stare. Like he’s properly checking me out for the first time now that it's been suggested that I may actually be moving into the flat. And now I don't know what the hell to think. “Any more questions, mate?” Alfie asks. Danny’s still glaring at me. I suddenly feel like I want this sofa to swallow me up. I have no idea what’s going through Danny King’s head, but I’m sure it’s not good. I DO have questions. A few of them, in fact. Are the rumours that you’re bisexual true, Alfie? Why does Danny King seem to hate so much? And would I be getting the same unnerving glares and cold reception if I were some Montgomery University graduated monster and not just some geeky-looking guy in specs from Leicester who has all but two bodybuilding shows under his belt? There's no world in which any of those questions are appropriate to ask. So I just meekly shake my head instead and decide to get the hell out of this flat as quickly as possible with no goodbye or acknowledgement from my new best friend, Danny King. As I say bye to Alfie and make my way to exit the building, all of my hopes and wild fantasies of living and becoming friends with two of Manchester’s best amateur bodybuilders shrink and disappear into nothing. Later that night I’m standing in the queue for Utopia - a big once-a-month queer club night at one of the city’s biggest club venues, huddled together with my best friend Liv, who I’m currently staying with and her very gay flatmate, Benji, who’s made no secret of the fact that he fancies me. “I don’t know why don’t you just move in with us,” Benji quips. “We’ll split the rent three ways.” “Excuse me - I’m not having my living room turned into a bedroom,” Liv retorts. “It’s not just YOUR living room,” Benji grumbles. “Mmmm. I kinda need my own room,” I tell him. “You could always just share my room,” Benji teases, wrapping his arm around mine so they’re linked. Liv makes an audible groan and I fail not to smile at Benji’s flirting. And maybe even blush a little. Benji is actually a really sweet guy. I mean - he’s not my type at all. He’s camp as Christmas for a start. Plus - I guess you could say he’s missing a few physical attributes that I normally go for. But I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about what would happen if I gave in to Benji’s flirting. How he’d react if I lunged my face towards his and snogged his admittedly cute face off. I didn’t go into too much detail about what happened at the room viewing with Liv and Benji. I imagine the conversation that went down between Alfie and Danny when I left the flat. Alfie saying that I seemed nice. Danny pulling a face and saying they should wait for the next guy to show up. And then some super confident muscle bull of a bodybuilder who’s been competing for years and who Danny recognises from Panthers showing up to view the room and the decision being promptly made that he’s the flatmate for them and not that awkward nerd who came around earlier. Will Alfie Winters even get back to me to tell me the news or will he be too embarrassed after his blunder of implying the room was mine just because I messaged him first, which I have to say, feels like a bit stupid to me? I guess whatever happens I’ll be seeing Alfie Winters at The Muscle Factory when I eventually get my room sorted and move here. I can’t imagine him not even giving me a friendly hello. “Don't you think we’d make a good couple though?” Benji says, tightening his grip on my arm. “The big beefy himbo and the small geek.” A laugh escapes my lips. I’m tempted to ask, “Which one am I?” but I stop myself. If Benji thinks I’m big and beefy, what would he think of the two mini muscle bulls of junior bodybuilders I met earlier today? One of the guys standing in the queue in front of us glances around and quickly looks at me. Then his eyes go down to my arms. I guess my biceps do look pretty great in this tight-fitted blue t-shirt. Two seconds later he turns around again and gives me a shy little smile. I imagine that took a bit of courage. It’s kind of adorable. And the guy’s actually really handsome. And it would be so easy for me to pull him. But - ugh - I don't know if this makes me sound really shallow, but I know that what I REALLY want isn’t just a regular-sized guy. No matter how nice and cute and handsome he happens to be. We lose my new admirer once we get inside the club. I’ve never been to Utopia before and I didn’t really know what to expect but this place is pretty amazing. A huge high-ceilinged club with thumping uplifting house music full of all types of people all here to have an amazing night. It’s like a wonderland of queerness. Me, Liv and Benji make our way to the bar, passing people dressed in crazy club kid outfits, drag queens who look incredible and a few other people who stick out from the mass of clubbers. And I’m just here wearing skinny jeans and a tight blue t-shirt. And yet - I feel quite a few eyes on me. Hot guys smile at me. One guy even reaches out and places a hand on my back. It’s uninvited, but I’m flattered. All because I look pretty buff in the tight blue t-shirt I'm wearing. I can’t help but wonder what kind of reaction possibly bisexual Alfie Winters would get if he strolled in wearing that olive green vest he was wearing earlier today. Arms, pecs and shoulders bulging. And now I’m wondering - would Alfie Winters come to a place like Utopia? Would Danny King come to a place like Utopia? I think I already know the answer to the latter. “So, Mr Malone …” Benji begins with a mischievous look on his face when the three of us are standing at the bar. “I have a little present for you!” Before I have a chance to ask him what, he’s putting something into the palm of my left hand. “Ummm. What is it?” I ask, looking at the little round yellow pill now resting in between my fingers. “What’s going on?” Liv asks, leaning into us. I show her Benji’s “present”. “Oh great - so you guys are gonna be off your faces?” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’ve got one for you too, Olivia.” “What does it do?” I ask. Benji laughs. “God, he’s adorable!” he says to Liv, before turning back to me. “How can someone who looks like you be so innocent?” “Why don’t you just do half?” Liv suggests. Benji groans. “He’s a big boy. He’ll be able to handle it. Do the whole thing, Nick.” I suddenly like feel I’m in a cartoon. Benji is the little devil on my left shoulder and Liv’s the angel on the right. I look at the little yellow pill again between my fingers. I’ve never really done recreational drugs before. But this club. The people. The atmosphere. I’m suddenly feeling reckless. Without too much more deliberation, I put the whole thing in my mouth and wince at the bitter taste of swallowing it, to a grinning and excited-looking Benji. Who’s strangely never looked cuter. Half an hour later and me, Liv and Benji are huddled together dancing. Or at least I'm trying to. I don't think I’m actually moving that much. If I’m being honest I feel like a bit of a twat. Am I doing this dancing right or do I just look like a knob? I don’t think I’ll be going clubbing much when I move to Manchester. I think I’ll just stick to trying to become a muscle beast at The Muscle Factory and desperately trying to befriend Alfie Winters. Recreational drugs are also way overrated. I mean - yes, I feel a bit of a buzz. But is this really what everybody raves about? I leave Liv and Benji and escape to the toilets. I check my phone in a cubicle to find no text messages from Alfie. My insides tighten in anticipation when I open up Instagram. Because maybe he's DM’ed me there instead. But my heart soon drops. Because there’s no notification to tell me I have a message. I start to type in a name in the search bar, but something stops me when I’m halfway through. I don't think looking at the Instagram of a bodybuilder who clearly didn't think that much of me despite me hardly saying two words to him is a particularly healthy thing to do. So I type in another name instead. And now I’m smiling into my phone because I’m looking at a picture of a bronzed and shredded Alfie Winters hitting a front lat spread in what I presume is his bedroom in a pair of shiny purple posing trunks (to be fair, Alfie’s trunks are never NOT shiny) with a pair of Stranger Things socks pulled right up to his shins. I know this was taken around the time of his last competition a few weeks ago because he’s posted a couple of similar ones since then. I let out a little laugh and bite my lip as I read the caption Alfie has written to accompany the picture. Sorry, folks. These trunks aren't for sale. (I know some of you will DM me to ask anyway!) Will I ever be brave enough to post a caption as outrageous as that? Will I ever have random guys messaging me on Instagram asking to buy my used posing trunks? Right now, I’m not even brave enough to post pictures of myself in competition for fear of what people might say and think. For being judged, I guess. Which I know makes me sound completely pathetic. I put my phone away and head back out to my friends. But as I’m walking through the crowd of clubbers, something starts to happen. My arms suddenly feel light and airy. There’s this tingling sensation going up and down them. Which spreads to my whole body. And then … as I reach Liv and Benji, out of nowhere, this intense rush sweeps through me and takes over my body. “Are you okay?” my best friend asks as she grabs both of my arms. I’m not sure if I AM okay. Because I’ve never felt like this before. I guess this is what happens when you decide to be reckless and neck little yellow pill’s given to you by your mate’s flirty flatmate. “Just relax!” Liv instructs. Relax. Okay - I can do that. Because yes, I’m a little freaked out, but I know that I’m safe with Liv. And even though I don't actually know him that well, I know I’m in good company with Benji too. And so I take Liv's advice. I try to relax. I try to stop freaking out. And when I do, all of a sudden, I’m in the middle of having what is probably one of the best fucking nights out of my life. I love this place. I love this club. I love Liv. And I kinda love Benji too. Cute, sweet Benji, who is now tugging on the bottom of my t-shirt and trying to coax me into taking it off. Which really doesn’t take much doing. As soon as I peel my bright blue t-shirt off my torso, it’s like an instant reaction. And it’s not just because Benji is staring at my bumpy shredded abs with his mouth hung open. It feels like all eyes are suddenly on me. And man - it’s such a fucking rush! I never display my torso in public like this. I close my eyes and feel the heady rush of the chemicals. And now - there are hands on me. Planted on my waist. I open my eyes to see Benji giving me this dreamy little smile. Benji - who’s not my type at all but who’s sweet and funny and cute. Benji - who’s gripping my waist. Benji - whose face is now inching towards mine. Benji - who I’m now kissing. And it’s nice. And kind of horny. But when we part lips, he’s giving me this look that makes my chest tighten. Still gripping onto my waist, Benji leans into my ear. “I really like you!” I feel a sharp panic. I look at Liv behind Benji, who’s giving me this look. Like she’s warning me. Don’t mess around with Benji. Don’t break Benji’s heart. (Like I’ve ever broken anyone’s heart before!) He’s got this look in his eyes. This look of hope, I guess. And I know I need to stop what I’m doing. I know that doing anything more than just kissing Benji will be a mistake. “Ummm … I’ll be back in a bit!” I say to him, suddenly feeling like I need to escape. And quickly. “Okay!” he says, looking at me with those big eyes full of hope and desperation. I start to walk away from Benji and Liv and through the crowd of sweaty clubbers with my t-shirt tucked into the waistband of my jeans. Most of them are looking at me. Some of them smiling at me. Some of them even touching me. Because I’m pretty sure I’m the most shredded guy in this club. I'm pretty sure I'm the only guy here who can call himself a bodybuilder. Until I’m suddenly not. Because standing in front of me right now looking just as surprised and awestruck as I imagine I do is another shirtless bodybuilder. And God he’s sexy. Holy fucking hell he’s sexy. I almost can’t believe what I’m seeing. Is this a mirage? Or am I having some kind of drug-induced hallucination? This guy is about five inches shorter than me. I’m guessing late thirties. Maybe even early forties. He’s completely bald. Has piercing blue-grey eyes. Handsome, smouldering looks. And these sticky-out ears. And there’s a big sexy vein zigzagging across the right side of his head. As for the body. Holy fuck. Okay, so he’s not like a mass monster or anything. He actually has quite a small frame. But the amount and sheer quality of muscle he’s managed to pack onto that frame is incredible. He has these perfectly round shoulders. Thick, tanned arms. These hot-as-fuck wavy-lined abs. And the pecs. Fuck ME the pecs. They’re like bunched up balloons of muscle fighting for space on his chest. The kind of pecs that twitch and dance with the slightest of movements. Even the silver chain buried in his neckline and running across the top of his thick pecs is unspeakably hot. “Oh my God!” he says to me. We’re both just staring at each other. And then this beyond hot bonafide muscle daddy before me curls his mouth into the most fuck-off sexy grin. “Where did YOU come from?” he asks like he can’t quite believe what’s standing in front of him. “Ummm, Leicester!” I tell him, leaning closer to his ear. As soon the words escape my mouth I realise how fucking stupid they sounded. He wasn't actually asking me where I was from! I swear - sometimes I’m such a social retard. Sometimes when people speak to me or ask me a question, it’s like my brain goes into a panic. And I can’t think of my reply quickly enough. And I end up just sprouting this verbal diarrhoea. Or saying something completely stupid. Like I did just then. But my mystery silver chain-wearing muscle daddy of a bodybuilder doesn’t seem to care. In fact, his smile gets even bigger (and sexier). Like maybe he found what I just said sort of cute? His hand goes on my waist and he moves his lips closer to my ear. “Have you taken something?” I bite my lip and nod. His hand is not moving from my waist. And I feel so much. Chemistry. Electricity. Between me and this bald, veiny-headed, slightly sweaty muscle daddy. His thick, balloon-like pecs right there. His crazily thick shoulders. It’s like there’s an incredible hotness radiating from his body. “Do you wanna come back to mine?” I can’t think of anything I want more. I nod at the muscle daddy. He smirks at me, reaches for my hand with his, wraps his fingers around mine and leads me out of the club. So many people are staring as I’m led out of the club and across the street to a taxi by the short, jacked bodybuilder I met literally two minutes ago. It might be the fact that we’re two male bodybuilders holding hands in public. And the fact that we’re both fucking shirtless. I can’t quite believe this is happening. And I can’t quite believe how hot this mystery muscle daddy is. “Didn’t you have a t-shirt?” I ask him as we approach the taxi. Mine’s still tucked into the waistband of my jeans but his is nowhere to be seen. He shrugs and pulls a face like he doesn't care before smirking at me. We get into the back of the taxi and he tells the driver the place where we’re heading which I don't recognise at all. Then he wraps his big, meaty, slightly furry forearm around my leg, his fingers gripping my inner thigh and my cock forcefully throbs in my jeans. I can see the thick veins pulsing under the hair of his forearm. “What’s your name?” I ask him. But the muscle daddy doesn’t reply. Instead, he lunges his face towards mine and starts kissing me hard. His tongue in my mouth. His huge bare sweaty shoulder pressed up against mine. The taste of his mouth. The feel of his hard sweaty muscle. Even his scent. It’s all just so intoxicating. Almost unbearably horny. He stops kissing me. And now I’m just looking into those gorgeous blue-grey eyes. Every single fucking thing about this guy is sexy. The face. The body. The silver chain. That zigzagging vein on the side of his bald head. He’s like the epitome of masculinity. The ultimate muscle daddy. I feel like totally submitting to this guy. Letting him do whatever the fuck he wants to do to me. “My name’s Nick,” I tell him. His mouth curls into a big, sexy grin. Like he maybe thinks I’m cute or something. His grip gets tighter on my thigh. “I’m Mason,” he tells me. Even his voice is hot. Deep, masculine and surprisingly well-spoken. “But you can call me Sir,” he says, straight-faced. I don’t know if it’s the chemicals in my body. I don't know if I’d have had a different reaction to what Mason just said if I hadn't taken whatever Benji gave me back at Utopia. Whether I would have thought it was weird. Or just laughed. But I don’t even deliberate over what to do next. “Yes, Sir!” I say, feeling an unexpected rush. “Good boy!” he replies in an assertive tone. Why is hearing Mason calling me that so hot? Sir. Good boy. This is completely new territory for me. But I'm totally into it. Maybe it’s the chemicals, but right now, I’m completely prepared to do whatever this insanely hot muscle daddy wants. As soon as we’re out of the taxi Mason grabs my hand with his. And he doesn’t let go until we’re at the door to his flat. Hand in hand with his bald sweaty shirtless bodybuilder. All the time I’m rock fucking hard. I should have guessed that the moment we stepped inside his flat I’d be pushed up against the wall with Mason kissing me hard. His thick balloon-like pecs pushed against my toned chest. His wavy-lined turtle tummy abs against my little, narrow bumpy ones. “What gym do you train at?” I ask Mason as I fall back on his bed. I really want to know whether he’s a Muscle Factory bodybuilder or a Panthers guy. But he doesn’t reply. He just yanks down my jeans and boxers with determination. All the time with this insanely sexy look on his face. And now his lips are around my cock. My hands are running around over his bald veiny head. I’m gripping onto his sticky-out ears. He’s sucking me hard and fast. I feel like I'm fucking transcending. Mason frees his lips and looks up at me. The sexiest fucking grin on his face. “Wanna fuck me, boy?” “Yeah!” I reply, gripping onto his shoulder blades. His eyebrows rise up in a stern expression. “Yes, Sir.” “Good boy!” Mason says, sitting up straight and climbing on top of my legs and mounting me. My hands grip onto his thick hard legs as he grips my cock and positions himself over it. What. A. Fucking. Image. This smoulderingly handsome bald-headed mature bodybuilder with his thick pillow-like pecs and wavy lined abs sitting on top of me. Towering over me. Dominating me. And then he sits down and … fuuuuck. I’m inside Mason. My cock is inside of him. He’s riding me. I’m fucking this hot bald muscle daddy bodybuilder I know barely anything about. This hot bald muscle daddy bodybuilder who’s bringing his arms up into a front double biceps pose. He’s flexing while I’m fucking him. His eyes go to the gloriously pumped balls of muscle bulging from his upper arm and he arrogantly purses his lips. Like he’s admiring his own flexed muscle. Like he’s proud of it. Like he’s totally getting off on the fact that he’s a bodybuilder. My hands run up his stomach. Feeling his rock hard, slightly bloated abs. He looks down at me, still flexing his biceps, still with that smug fucking look on his face. His lips arrogantly pursed. And then his mouth curls into the sexiest smirk. Still the epitome of masculinity. Still the ultimate muscle daddy. When my hands reach Mason’s chest, he brings his arms down and squeezes so his pecs tense and flex and the muscle explodes under my fingers. His arms now by his side, he brings his right forearm up and clenches his fist into another flex and my hands slip to the biceps muscles now bulging off his upper arm. I’m squeezing Mason’s rock hard, marble-to-the-touch biceps muscles. Worshipping the freaky biceps of a hot bald muscle daddy bodybuilder who’s riding my fucking cock. “Want me to pose, boy?” Mason barks. “Yes, Sir!” He puts his fists on his waist and manoeuvres his upper body into a front lat spread. Lips pursed, he lets out a hot grunt as he reaches the peak of the pose. My hands run over his arms. His pecs. Down to his lats now peaking out under his armpits. All the time he’s riding me. All the time I’m fucking him. He then throws his arms behind his head and as he sits down on my cock, his big abs crunch and pop before my eyes. The hard, bloated abs of a roided-up daddy. Crunching and flexing before me. Just as I put my hands on his crunched abs he brings his arms down and with his fists pushed together squeezes out a most muscular pose with a cocky, animalistic, “YEAH!” My hands run over every muscle. Everything hard and squeezed and flexed. The look on Mason's face. The attitude. The dominance. The sheer fucking power. He grunts again as he continues to flex and ride my cock. All the time still riding me. All the time still fucking him. I’m fucking this hot bald muscle daddy bodybuilder while feeling his thick biceps and squeezed pecs. I’m worshipping him. I’m quivering in his presence. I know how lucky I am. To be with him. To be inside him. To be fucking him. He may as well as well be the hottest and biggest bodybuilder on the planet. Right now he is. Right now he’s hotter than any other muscle freak in the world. He starts riding my cock faster. I’m fucking him harder. How can anything be hotter than this? Two bodybuilders fucking each other. My dick deep inside this daddy with his freakish biceps and God-tier tits. I’m consumed by his muscle. By his mass. By his everything. He’s riding me faster. Flexing harder. Grunting louder. Two sweaty bodybuilders fucking. Mason's flexing. I feel like I’m gonna cum. He’s grunting. I’m really gonna cum. The hot muscle daddy riding my cock unleashes this loud, powerful groan as he bounces on my cock. Thick ropes of cum erupt from his cock and shower my toned pecs and shredded bumpy abs as the most intense pleasure courses through my body and consumes every part of me. And now I’m groaning. Screaming loudly. My whole body is on fire. My whole body feels like it’s exploding. Because I’m cumming. I’m cumming inside this hot jacked muscle daddy bodybuilder who’s now lying flat on top of me, laughing and catching his breath. “Fuuuuck!” Mason cries dramatically. I laugh as he grins at me wildly. Looking as sexy as ever. Perhaps even more so. We stay like that for a few moments. Him on top of me. Me clinging onto his warm sticky back. A sweaty mass of thick muscle pinning me to the bed. Jesus. Fucking. Christ. I’m on such a high. Are all my nights out in Manchester going to end like this? Mason sighs and looks me in the eye. Like he’s studying my face. “Are all the muscle lads in Leicester as hot as you?” he asks, his lip curling into a fuck-off sexy smirk. I grin back, still gripping onto him. Right now it doesn’t feel like anything matters but me being here with him. Me and Mason the Hot Muscle Daddy might as well be the only two people in the world. “I’m actually moving to Manchester,” I tell him. Something flickers across Mason’s face. Just for a second. It’s almost like I just delivered him bad news. Did I imagine that? “Awesome!” he says, his face softening. And now he looks genuinely pleased. “Mmmm. I’m trying to get my room sorted.” I suddenly have a crazy fantasy whereby Mason makes me an offer to stay here in his flat. To live here with him. “Do you go to Utopia a lot?” I ask him. He pulls a face. “Every now and then.” “Do you get many bodybuilders in there?” Mason grins. “No. Although I did take a straight bodybuilder mate there once. He loved all the attention he got.” He grips my waist hard. “You are definitely a find!” he purrs. God those eyes. God that face. God that everything. “So do you go to The Muscle Factory?” Mason mischievously grins. He pauses before answering. Am I asking too many questions? Is this not okay? “I train at Panthers. The Muscle Factory’s a bit showy-offy for me. Too many posers.” I nod and furrow my eyebrows. “Oh right. Just … you kind of seemed to like posing earlier!” I say, smirking at him. Mason lets out a little laugh. “You know what I mean. Panthers is purely about the bodybuilding. No one cares who’s there or … who MIGHT be there. Or who’s looking at them.” Huh. I had my heart set on training at The Muscle Factory. It’s pretty much the most famous gym in Manchester, after all. One of the most famous bodybuilding gyms in the country, for that matter. From what I’ve seen and heard it’s a big, clean gym, which is kind of flashy with tons of modern machines and multiple rooms and areas. Loads of famous bodybuilders have trained there. It also homes some of the best and most well-known personal trainers in Manchester. Panthers, on the other hand, is an old-school hardcore dungeon gym which is anything but flashy. In fact, it looks like a bit of a shithole from the pictures I’ve seen on the Internet. It’s a no-frills gym with old scruffy weight machines which haven’t been updated for decades. It’s almost the complete opposite of The Muscle Factory. I never really pictured myself training there. But hearing Mason comparing the two gyms, I actually quite like what I’m hearing about Panthers. I’m definitely more intrigued if nothing else. “I think you’d like it,” Mason says, with an ominous little smirk and an arched eyebrow. My chest starts to pulse with excitement. Is that some kind of invitation? Is that him saying that he wants to see me again? I’m suddenly picturing Mason taking me on my first visit to Panther’s Gym. Looking after me. Holding my hand. You know. That sort of thing. “I don't think you’d turn as many heads in there as you did tonight, though!” I suddenly feel sheepish and smile, while looking down at Mason's arms. The thick furry slightly tanned arms of a mature bodybuilder. Is it possible to pause time and stay lying in this bed forever? That’s pretty much how I feel right now. “So … do you know Danny King?” I ask him, feeling weirdly nervous all of a sudden and picturing Danny in his black Panthers hoodie yesterday afternoon. “Of course! Everyone knows Danny.” “What’s he like?” I ask, gripping a little tighter onto Mason’s back. “Mmmm. Nice guy. Doesn’t really talk much. Well … not at the gym, anyway. Keeps himself to himself. Some people think he’s a bit arrogant but … I don't think he is.” I nod. I’m tempted to tell him that I actually met Danny King yesterday and my general impression of him wasn’t hugely positive, but I decide to keep that information to myself. “Why? You got a little thing for Danny?” Mason asks, with a teasing smirk. I screw my face up. “Nah.” Mason smirks like he doesn’t believes me. “Wouldn’t blame you if you did. He’s a hot little fucker.” He squeezes my waist again. “Like you!” he purrs. He slips his hand down my body, grabs my cock in his hand and squeezes. I’m swelling instantly. He makes an “Mmmm!” sound as he squeezes my swelling cock harder while bringing his lips to mine and kissing me again. This time softer and more gentle than before. Here we go again. I have no idea what time we finally drift off to sleep. Or what time it is when we both eventually wake up. My body aches like I've run a fucking marathon. I feel more self-conscious in the light of day. I have no idea what I look like. But I get the sense that I definitely don’t look my best. If it’s anything like the way my body feels right now. But I’m still buzzing from last night. From everything that happened with Mason. Meeting him. Coming back here. Having amazingly hot sex. He seems just as into me this morning too as he was last night. Touching me. Kissing me. I really could stay here all day if he asked me to. When he leaves me alone and heads to the bathroom, I step out of his bed and dig out my phone from the pocket of my jeans lying crumpled up on Mason’s bedroom floor. I have two missed calls from Liv and a text asking where I am. I suddenly have a flashback to last night of kissing Benji in the club. That look of hope and desperation on his face. Him leaning into me and saying, “I really like you.” I take my phone back to Mason’s bed and go into the Instagram app. The little red icon is showing, telling me there’s a DM waiting for me. I don’t think anything of it, but when I see who it’s from, my chest tightens sharply and I suddenly sit up straight. Because Alfie Winters has sent me a message. Hey, Nick. Thanks for coming around yesterday. The room is yours if you want it! Holy fucking - what?! I got the room? Is this a joke? I stare at the message. Trying to make sense of the words. I got the room. They want me to live with them. Alfie Winters and Danny King want me to be their flatmate. And now I’m thinking back to yesterday. The way Danny was with me. Kind of cold and rude. And that look he gave Alfie when he suggested the room was mine. I wonder what happened after I left. Maybe Alfie managed to talk Danny around. Maybe the other guy who was viewing the room didn’t show up. Maybe he was even less of a bodybuilder than I am. Who the fuck knows. But I got the room. I’m actually going to be living with them. Mason comes back into the bedroom. He looks at me suspiciously. Like he knows something’s going down. “Everything okay?” he asks, climbing back into bed and putting his arm around my waist, his body pushed right up against my side. I drop my phone, tell him yeah and grip onto one of his thick arms, grinning and feeling like I want to melt into his skin. “Mmmm. You are so fucking cute,” he purrs. My grin gets bigger as I grip tighter. “Like a hot little sexy muscle nerd!” Before I can answer, he’s kissing me again. The minty taste of toothpaste filling up my mouth. His hand slips down and grips my cock again. “Mmmm. I reckon you’ve got at least one more load in you,” he teases. “Wanna cum again?” “Yeah!” I say, gripping his thick arm tight and looking into his piercing blue-grey eyes. He arches an eyebrow. “Are you forgetting something? Yes …?” I smirk like crazy. “Yes, Sir!” Mason smirks back at me. So. Fucking. Sexy. “Good boy!” he purrs, giving my cock another hard squeeze. Here we go again.

This is my first story. It's going to have bite sized chapters and very regular updates (most likely daily). This is a m/m superhero romance. The first two chapters are mostly set up, but after that every chapter has plenty of sexy muscle and feats of strength, so please stick with it! Chapter 1 It began as all the best love stories do: with terrorism. The 24th of March 2013 is much like any other day. Hugo Chavez recently died, triggering what would go on to become an economic crisis in Venezuela, the UN security council has just slammed North Korea with harsh new sanctions, Justin Timberlake is topping the charts with ‘Mirrors’, protestors are waving signs outside Parliament, protesting about something, pigeons are shitting, rain is pouring, and I'm on my way to work. The newly opened Shard is difficult to miss. It towers over London’s skyline, jutting into the clouds like the lair of a comic book villain. I make my way inside, flashing my ID as I go. ‘Jake Langley’, it says in large capital letters, along with an employee number and my date of birth. I only show it as a courtesy - the security guards have all memorised my face by now. I sometimes wonder what they think of me. Am I ‘that cute, fresh faced little pastry chef with the dimples’ or do they just see me as a child straight out of college, coasting by on boyish looks, with no clue what he’s doing? I’d like to think it was the former. I’d like to. But I don’t. I wish I was the kind of guy who had the guts to ask. The kind who knows he's good enough, who knows he's not going to be rejected or shut down. But even if I wasn't gay, I will never be that kind of guy. It's not in my nature. I'm not assertive or domineering. I smile, wave, and make pastry. That's my nature. I slip by in this hyper masculine world by being too small for anyone to see as a threat. And for the most part, it works. The kitchens still shine like the day they were installed, which wasn't that long ago. Most kitchens are crowded, starkly lit places where you can barely move an inch without bumping into someone or knocking something over, but not this one. Natural light pours through the floor-to-ceiling windows, treating us to a view of London that millions of people would kill for. But I'm not here for the views. Okay, maybe a little bit. But mostly, I'm here to do my job. I find my little corner and start preparing for the day’s guests. It's a Sunday, so we're expecting a lot of traffic. There isn’t an overpaid banker in London who doesn’t salivate over the idea of lunch at the Shard. Russian oligarchs, Saudi oil barons, British royalty, Colombian drug lords - we serve them all. I don’t care who they are or what they do. It's none of my business. It sounds like a simple, boring job - making pastry. You’d be surprised at how much there is to it. There’s a reason they have pastry chefs – this is a difficult thing to get right. It's always come easily to me. I find something calming about rolling out a sheet of puff, spreading on the butter, folding it over, and rolling it out again. There's a rhythm to it. My movements soon become mechanical and I can feel myself floating away into a distant world where I'm someone interesting, somewhere interesting, doing something interesting. The kitchen hums around me as the first orders come in. Pans clink, hobs fizzle, water gurgles as it boils. I can barely hear the orders being barked over it all. But I'm not really paying attention. Boom. I can feel a wave of pressure pass through my feet, up to my head, and down again. Everything is shaking; the walls, the floor, the windows. Pots rattle above my head on their hooks. I turn to see the kitchen staff frozen, eyeing one another with pointed glares. I don't think I've ever seen this room so quiet. “What was that?” I hear one of them whisper, his voice carrying clear across the room. No one answers. Was it an earthquake? It couldn’t be. Earthquakes aren’t instantaneous, they're gradual. Then it comes again, much louder. BOOM. I don’t know if it's the ringing in my ears or the shaking beneath my feat, but I'm suddenly hunched over a table, flour covering my hands, gasping for breath. I don't know how long I spend there, trying to comprehend what's going on. It must be a minute or two, at least. My daze is broken as an alarm whirrs into life, high pitched and screaming. Red lights flash. All at once, the shock turns to chaos. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. They're coming faster now, from all over the building. I can feel them in my bones. While others run for the doors, I huddled under my table. What the hell is going on? My eyes drift to the windows, where black smoke is billowing up past our floor, carrying dust and paper. Fuck. I watched 9/11 unfold on live TV and I was here when they locked down London during the 7/7 attacks. It's impossible to ignore the reality of what's going on. This is a terrorist attack. I can see dark shapes floating past outside, just beyond the smoke. Choppers. News choppers. When I had dreamed of appearing on TV, I was thinking more along the lines of Deal or No Deal, not this. Anything but this. I'm now alone in the kitchen. I don't know when that happened. I presume everyone else has fled. My gaze flickers to the open door as I try to decide what to do. Maybe if I run now, I could get out before the building collapses. Or maybe the lower floors are experiencing the worst of it, and I'm best waiting up here while the blaze is brought under control. Is there anything here I could turn into a parachute? No, I scold myself. That’s pointless and stupid. I’d never break through those windows anyway. Turning on my phone, I check the BBC. The first result is a live video of the Shard, burning in a dozen places. The news anchors are speaking but I can’t hear a word of it. I watch the screen in horror as the fire begins to creep outward from the explosion sites. One of them is pretty close to this kitchen. Placing my hands on the ground, I feel warmth. There’s a rumbling sensation. Something is crackling not far from our door. As fast as I can, I slam it shut, backing away with a hiss as the handle burns my skin, leaving it red and blotchy. Now there’s smoke trickling in through the vents and the air is getting hazy. Pulling a wet cloth over my mouth, I run around the kitchen and turn on all the taps and block all the drains. They overflow one by one, spilling out onto the floor until there’s a pool of water an inch deep. This won’t save me, but it might slow the spread. It’s getting seriously hot in here. I clutch my burned hands around the wet cloth, which eases the pain, but nothing can stop the coughing fits. There’s soot clogging my lungs and in my eyes, causing them to water uncontrollably. The air is so thick now that I can barely see from one end of the room to the other. My only sign that the door has buckled is the red tongues of flame licking at the ceiling. At the same time, I’m hit by a wave of heat so overwhelming that my only option is to curl up on the floor and cover my face as I feel the skin of my back start to blister. Then something astonishing happens. Something so unusual that I wonder if I’m hallucinating. There's a silhouette visible through the smoke. A man. He's enormous, and seems completely unphased by the fire caressing every inch of his body. His eyes find me on the floor, and a look of relief flits across his face. I blink, and he’s suddenly leaning over me. How did he move so fast? I open my mouth to ask, but only a ragged cough comes out. Two huge arms gently scoop me up. I press my face into his chest to escape the heat. Somehow even in the middle of a burning skyscraper, his touch makes me feel safe. Protected. Isn’t that strange? I hear the sound of shattering glass, feel a rush of cold air on my neck. The arms wrap more tightly around me. The lurching in my stomach tells me we’re moving, and I try to look around, but one hand on the back of my head keeps me locked to his chest. As the adrenaline fades, my body starts to scream in pain. I’ve never felt such agony. It’s only a matter of time before blackness is creeping into my vision, clouding my mind. And then I’m gone.

Hi, this is my first post here. I hope you enjoy. *Ding Dong* I got up from the couch and shuffled to the door; I'd been waiting for this new micro SD card for a few days now. It was late for some reason, but I didn't care. I excitedly grabbed the doorknob and twisted, pulling it open. I was already focusing my eyes downward to see where the package had been placed. Instead, however... "G'mornin', sir." A gruff voice startled me. There before me was the delivery man, holding my package at waist level. A few thoughts surfaced my mind: Usually the packages are left on the porch, not hand-delivered. That box is waaay too big for a micro SD card. And of course: Who the hell is this massive man?? My mouth gaped at his wide figure. His tan-colored uniform must have been custom made, and it still squeezed his body. The short sleeves were gaped even moreso than my mouth, stretching to encompass his mountainous arms. His chest, which could not be fully covered, pulled down the front of his shirt, casting a dark shadow over his midsection and exposing the lower half of his blocky abs and a fluff of treasure trail. This also revealed a forest of hair on his chest. Dare I say, this uniform was not very professional. His thick forearms also had ample hair. He bore a scruffy beard and an almost sheepish grin. I wanted to look down, but something caught my eye. Another darker shade of fabric covered by the shadow of his pecs. Sweat. Sweat from under his pecs was darkening the shirt. I felt my dick thump my shorts. I looked around; more patches of sweat were around his armpits and between his pecs as well. Thank goodness we have the Sun. "...you alright?" came the gruff voice again. I snapped out of my daze. "W-What? Oh, yeah, thanks." I nervously replied. There was no way he didn't see me staring, but I at least hoped he didn't mind. He looked concerned at my weird response. "I asked if I could use your bathroom. Been deliverin' packages all mornin' and haven't pissed since wakin' up." He took a hand off the box and scratched his thigh. Oh my, his thighs. They were impossibly meaty. The shorts might as well have been invisible, since they covered his legs like paint. Carved muscle bulged from his legs; all the signs of tree trunks were present, specifically redwood. My eyes wandered. Shit, the unecessarily big-ass package was blocking his package. "...llo? You good?" His deep voice once again brought me back to reality. I composed myself and stepped back behind the door to adjust my crotch. "Er...yes! Sure, come in." I guestured for him to come inside. He was just a hair shorter than the door frame, but he had to turn slightly to accommodate his width. He handed the package to me hastily and asked where the bathroom was. I set the box on the floor and led him farther inside my house to the bathroom. He palmed the doorknob with a large hand and quickly entered. I sighed; he would be leaving soon. I felt a little disappointed. He was without a doubt the hottest man I'd ever seen. Though, I suppose I should consider myself lucky he even stayed as long as he did. I lingered at the bathroom door momentarily. I heard him grunt softly. I almost knocked to ask if he was alright, but then I heard heavy splashing. It was loud, as if he had a hose or something. Surely that wasn't just his piss? It went on for a while. I stood for maybe a full 2 minutes, and he was still going. A few moments later, the sound trickled out. I heard him flush, wash his hands, and open the door. Startled, I acted as if I had just arrived. He eyed me suspiciously, but didn't say anything. It was awkwardly silent for a few seconds. "Thanks," he abruptly said. "Oh, yeah, you're welcome." "Were you... listenin'?" This caught me off guard. I felt my face heat up. "N-No! I just walked here!" "Uh-huh. Doesn't matter. People've told me they could hear me pissin' from farther than just outside the damn door." He crossed his thick arms. It was probably meant to be intimidating, but the sight of his big arms resting under his heavy pecs was rather arousing. I struggled to find the right words. Maybe it would be best to just admit it? The way he said that made it sound like it was a common occurrence. I mean, who wouldn't be curious? Besides, after he leaves I'd probably never see him again. "Well, y-yeah, I was curious about, um. Y'know..." I avoided looking at his crotch like the plague, instead I vaguely gestured to the bathroom. "How long I pissed? Already told you I haven't gone since wakin' up," he looked somewhat annoyed. "Yeah, sorry," I muttered. I realized how pervy I was being and became embarrassed. I led him back outside and he left after saying bye. I watched his meaty ass as he walked, massive round globes bouncing. I noticed his tight pants and how close they w-... Shit, I did it again. I shook my head and closed the front door. I bent down to pick up the package I received. "Man, this box is way too big..." I mumbled to myself.

A longer story than usual, I hope you like it u.u Mr.Steve & Bruce My name is Steve, although I am often called Mr. Steve, I am 74 years old and live with my grandson Bruce, he is my whole life.... His disgusting father, someone I will never consider my son, abandoned him after killing his mother, he was imprisoned and sentenced to life imprisonment, since Bruce was 8 years old he was left in my care for lack of any other guardian, I raised him as my real son, he has always been kind, polite, and with good values, I always call him my baby hehe even though this year he turned 18, he was never very outgoing he was always the introverted and quiet type, I knew he was bis from 16.. and because of that he has always been treated badly, he has been beaten, I remember days when he arrived with bruises all over his body, he was bullied and it was getting worse, I tried to talk to the school but they did nothing, I even threatened to sue but the school protected those bastards just for their money. I decided to take Bruce out before something really serious happened, boys who think they can do whatever they want because their parents have money are very dangerous, but it wasn't enough they wanted to hurt him just for being him, one day Bruce went out and told me that a friend had invited him to see a movie premiere, that day Bruce didn't come back.... It was already 12:00 a.m. and Bruce was not answering his cell phone, when the house phone rang to give me the worst news.... Bruce was hospitalized, I almost had a heart attack and then I remembered those brats, I wanted to cry but I felt a rage I had never felt before but I was so helpless.... I felt pathetic After a while of being in the hospital with Bruce they ended up discharging him and he came home, although he was somewhat changed he was more scared than before, he didn't want to go outside after those guys beat him to the point of almost leaving him in coma it was totally understandable, I felt so much frustration, fortunately the lawsuit I made was supported by many witnesses in the trial and the 5 criminals who hurt my son were sentenced.... But still... I felt weak not being able to protect my Bruce, what if it happened again? I'm just a weak old man I didn't know what to do, until I heard a commercial. "You don't want to be weak anymore do you? Do you want the strength of Arnold or Ronnie Coleman? "Yes" I said as if I wanted an answer "well try our new product that will change you completely... for more information call -" I wrote down the number and called "Hello?" "Hello, who is this? "My name is Steve I saw your commercial on TV and I was interested." "Mr. Steve our commercial unfortunately is discontinued maybe they ran it by mistake, we no longer offer the product." I froze but something told me that I had to insist. "Please sir, I'm going through something difficult, I need something..... Whatever it is I'm 74 years old I'm not old enough to exercise anymore but I don't want to..... I need to be strong, the strongest if necessary.... Please." "Hmm our product is risky sir, that's why the commercial stopped going over I really can't offer it to you, but if you are so needy I can make an exception although you must understand that it is an experimental product and may carry risks to your health, understand?" "Of course, I would do anything." "Anything? All right, I'll give you an address let's find it there Mr. Steve." "Okay, I'll be there tomorrow" "Get ready to change your life completely Mr. Steve? He hung up" I was nervous, I don't know what I had just done, who I was calling or if what I was walking into was dangerous, but there was no turning back now. I went to the indicated address I felt bad for leaving Bruce alone, but something in me knew that from this day on everything would change, I don't know if for better or for worse... but it would change, I was at the place but I didn't see the guy, after waiting for 20 minutes I started to think that everything was a lie or something like that. "Pss, hey you're Steve aren't you?" I turned around and I saw a big guy, he wasn't huge or anything but definitely athletic. "Yeah" I said "Look Steve come this way" I followed him to a secluded spot, he started to pull something out of his jacket I thought it was a dagger and he was going to rob me I got scared, but he pulled out a bag of pills or something. "This right here Steve is the last pills we made before the product was discontinued due to some lawsuits and complaints, there are 20 of them." "Lawsuits? Why? "Side effects like body hair growth etc... it was never anything serious most just wanted to smear us and they got it." He gave me the bag "Because you said they were dangerous and all that?" "Well... I just wanted to scare you, I really don't usually agree to these things." "Hmm okay, I understand." "The whole thing with your grandson I hope it's okay...I'm not going to charge you for this I think you really need it." "Thank you.. by the way what is your name?" "Frank I'm sorry for not saying it sooner because I couldn't trust you without seeing you in person first." "That's okay, thank you very much..." "Let's go before we draw too much attention to ourselves, it was nice to meet you Steve." "Nice to meet you too Frank." After that I went back home and thought about making us a vacation to lift Bruce's spirits.. so we went camping in a nearby forest and rented a hut, change of environment would do Bruce good, he was still quiet even with me, although he was still as obedient and kind as ever, I felt again that helpless feeling.... We went to the camp and settled in, a couple of days passed in which we ate malvadiscos together and Bruce began to open up more. "Grandpa I... I'm sorry if I've been so distant lately it's just that..." "It's okay son... I may not be able to fully understand what you are going through but I know it has been very hard on you" "Thank you.. you always support me in everything, defend me and I .... I'm so pathetic" he started sobbing. "Come here son, please don't cry" I hugged him "you're not pathetic, you're my beautiful grandson, my baby and obviously I will always defend you" But I couldn't protect you I thought. "Go to sleep honey, I'll stay up a while longer" I stroked her hair. "Okay grandpa...see you tomorrow" "See you tomorrow, have a good rest" he deserves it after all. I saw the pills on the counter, I took the package out of the bag, I took out a big glass of beer and poured everything and poured water, I stayed a long time thinking what to do looking until the pills were dissolved, I had in my hands the possibility to change everything, that nobody would ever hurt Bruce again... I drank it... I drank it all without thinking until I finished, nothing happened, 20 minutes passed and there was still no change, I was still the same weak old man as always, I left the cabin frustrated, deceived, I had trusted Frank, I moved far enough away so as not to wake up Bruce even if he screamed with all my strength and it happened... Suddenly I felt a warmth envelop my body, out of my mouth came a grunt, I felt my body heat up and start to GROW?! it was growing, I felt my abs start to form under my shirt, my shoulders got wider, my chest with small pecs, it was working, my legs were growing too when suddenly I heard RIIIIIIIIIP my shirt ripped in the back, it had gotten so wide. And so followed my pants, my new pecs began to push the fabric until it ripped, for the first time I saw hair on my chest and abdomen, it was black despite my white hair and mustache, the same on my shoulders, back, forearms, armpit and pubic, it was thickening, my neck began to thicken my voice went down one, two, three octaves, I now had a bull neck, I had the constitution of a middleweight bodybuilder and I was still "Hmmm yeah.. bigger, I need to get bigger for Bruce, no one will ever hurt my precious boy again, or they'll deal with this old man." I flexed my arms by this point they were bigger than Bruce's head, my pecs started to push my nipples down, my own nipples were thickening and thickening, my thighs were like tree trunks and I was still growing. "Fuck... It feels amazing I don't want it to stop hmmmm yeah... I'm so big and strong now, Ronnie Coleman is going to be dwarfed next to this huge grandpa." I was still enjoying my Growing up until *RASHED* my shorts ripped monstering a huge cock hit my abs and it was as thick as Bruce's forearm, my arms were already twice the size of Bruce's torso, my legs must have almost tripled it by now, by this point I must have been bigger than any bodybuilder in history, my neck thickened again, now I had a dinosaur neck, the hair on my body thickened more, I felt my mustache grow thicker and thicker, my jaw was now strong and angular, it was more manly and I liked it, my hands and feet had also grown a lot, I could wrap part of Bruce's body with one of my paws, although now they were more bear paws, I could wrap part of Bruce's body with one of my paws. I kept growing bigger and bigger I couldn't and wouldn't stop, I was so gigantic now.. fuck I think I could wrap my hand around Bruce's head, he could live under my massive pecs protected from dust, rain and sun.. if that would please me, I was now literally a mountain, a beast, my thick cock had to be bigger than one of Bruce's legs, my arms were triple his size with thick veins all over my massive body, I was sweating heavily smelling my manly smell.. no... monster *grunts*. "Hmmmm yeah fuck yeah this feels good, I thunder my mighty voice, I could get used to this i growl." When I thought I was done.. that wasn't the end, I felt like a train ran over me, an immense power stroke HUH! FUCK!!! WHAT'S GOING ON? my trapezius suddenly overtook my head, my shoulders became even more gigantic, my back exploded with bigger muscle, if my legs used to be like redwoods now they were bigger than any "super heavyweight" bodybuilder's body and I kept getting bigger and bigger and more massive AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA apparently it stopped for a moment, but returned to my pecs.... With every deep gasp or grunt the deep pectoral striations became more marked, my beautiful Bruce... I could engulf his little body between my pectoral cavern now, even though I would NEVER hurt him I felt giant, no.... Colossal was difficult to describe so much power but the most important thing was still missing... I felt a strange warmth envelop my cock, it got so hard I thought it was impossible, and it grew, slowly it grew *grunts* GRHA FUCK MY DICK IS BIGGER it got as thick and big as a tree trunk, my balls swelled enormously, they fell to the ground holding Godzilla's cock, it was so erect it was level with my chest, shit.. it was so full of cum I feel like I could make a fucking tsunami with my cum And it did, I wanted to cum as bad as ever, it was so heavy the floor was being destroyed, my grunts in a thunderous voice.. damn I hope I don't wake up my boy... wait BRUCE NO!!!, DAMN IT I HAVE TO RUN IN ANOTHER DIRECTION BEFORE I DROWN MY BRUCE with a scream so bestial and animalistic that echoed everywhere I forced my monster cock to point to another direction with the strength of my arms and huge pecs, it was so sensitive that it made me scream from ecstasy, so much pre cum was coming out that it could flood an Olympic swimming pool. Grandpa? Suddenly I forgot I had a cumshot that could wipe out an entire town, I heard Bruce's soft voice in my ears I turned as best I could between the beastly pecs that were pressing against me, god.... He was so cute and so small, his skinny body.. shit I must be 20 times bigger than my Bruce or more I don't even know how big I am anymore, he was in his beautiful blue pajamas, seeing his skinny body finished killing me, I couldn't hold back much longer, I growled in what must have been the most thunderous and terrifying voice my little guy heard, Bruce gave a Breathe and a step back fuck I'm scaring him, I hate that so much.. BRUCE... *SCREAMS* MY BOY PLEASE STAY AWAY... I DON'T WANT TO HURT YOU GHRAAAA *GRUNTS* QUICK BEFORE I LOSE CONTROL HUUFFF, I CAN'T ANYMORE.... *GRUNT* YOU ARE SO BEAUTIFUL MY BABY And I exploded GRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE Between the abysmal feeling of pleasure I remembered what they did to Bruce, and as if it was an impulse a deep rage came out, I felt as if my whole body grew more because of my deep anger and my bestial orgasm. SO POWERFUL, SO MONSTROUSLY BIG, I'M THE BIGGEST I'M THE MOST MASSIVE FUCKEEEEEEEER NO ONE WILL EVER TOUCH MY BABY BOY, I'M NEVER GONNA STOP YOU FUCKING WIMPS, I'M GONNA CRUSH ANY MOTHERFUCKER THAT TOUCHED MY BRUCE.... MY BABY GRHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA everything was destroyed, a run so powerful that it flooded the forest, uprooted trees and rocks in its path, and the hut in which Bruce and his grandfather were living was crushed by the semen. After he began to calm down from the monstrous roaring and my powerful grunts began to subside, I looked for Bruce, saw the landscape of destruction he had made and feared the worst. "BRUCE? SON ARE YOU OKAY? DID I HURT YOU?" No one answered... "BRUCE... BRUCE PLEASE ANSWER SON DID I HURT YOU? NO... NO PLEASE" my huge chest was rising and falling heavily, I was growling like an animal, but in reality I was scared, scared of my power, of having hurt the person I love the most. "G-grandfather..." I heard his voice faintly, he was buried in semen, he was on his knees so small and frail.. shivering from the cold and.. fear, my heart shrank at the sight of my precious grandson in that state My massive body moved on its own, my monstrous paw grabbed Bruce, damn I grew so big he fit in my huge hand, I ripped off his cum covered pajamas pulled him close to my truck sized chest, it felt cold on my skin, my little boy was freezing "Bruce, son I'm so sorry.. I couldn't control myself I thought.. I thought I had hurt you, for a moment I thought I had lost you." He stared at me open mouthed, his little hand came up to my strong face touching and caressing me with his soft touch, he stroked my thick white mustache tickling his little fingers, shit he was so cute and tender, I wrapped my arms around him, my fucking arms were 5 times bigger and thicker than my little boy was wrapped between so much muscle so massive.... I started to kiss his fingers that were kissing my full lips, I wanted to growl so wildly that all of fucking nature knew that he was mine... that nothing and no one was ever going to hurt him ever again. Fuck... My cock was getting hard again, my chest was tightening hard, Bruce ran his hand along the deep pectoral striations, he felt my thick chest hair, his fingers working their way through the hair, he tried to squeeze to see if he could bend my skin, it wouldn't budge.... he was so fucking powerful, my chest was so big he could lie on it without a problem, I couldn't take it anymore, I pulled Bruce closer and kissed him, I wanted to show him the deep love I feel for him, his thin soft lips on my old man moustache, feeling his tongue caress mine, made me growl like a beast, we broke the kiss, I was panting so heavily just the power of my chest forced my boy's whole body to rise and fall just because my pecs were 5 times heavier than Bruce. "I love you son... I want you to know that all this power, all this muscle the reason I became a monster was for you my life, nothing and no one will hurt you again, I'll take care of that..*grunts* I want to be the strongest beast for you, your giant protector *gasps deep* fuck.... I'm getting so hard again" Bruce was shaking, I was still cold in my chest despite the heat radiating from my huge body, I opened my pectoral cavern with my bear paws, I felt so much pleasure I wanted to scream, Bruce got in the middle of those mountains of flesh enveloping him, only leaving his shoulders and head in sight, shit.. he looked so small a simple flex of my colossal chest could have crushed him... but I would NEVER do anything to hurt my precious boy, my thick chest hair wrapped around him like a blanket, I felt his small penis touching one of my deep grooves. I can't help but sigh deeply, causing my monstrous pecs to swell almost swallowing Bruce whole.... "shit.. sorry Bruce, are you comfortable? If you feel like I squeezed you too tight unintentionally or you want out you can tell me anytime, hmmm it feels so good to have you between my chest like this son.... Keeping you warm and most of all safe, feeling your body like this, your little cock on my chest makes me so horny baby." I give a soft kiss on Bruce's forehead, it's precious. "Yes grandpa, I feel hotter.. you are, you are so big and strong grandpa, I..... I love you, being here in the middle of your mammoth chest I feel so protected and saved... I don't want it to end grandpa." Bruce was starting to fall asleep on my chest, laying his head on my dinosaur neck, I felt my nipples get so fucking hard they could easily go through steel, I sat up making a thud I crushed some tree trunk with my ass apparently, I don't care anymore, all that matters is that Bruce is safe and satisfied, I want to keep growing bigger and bigger for my little boy, I touched my abs with my thick fingers, they feel so hard, almost rock solid each one of the 8 pack must be bigger than my boy's torso, my cock.. damn it's so hard again, I feel like I could cum like before but I need to calm down so I don't wake Bruce, I take small breaths so I don't drown Bruce on my chest, I can smell his hair, he smells good. We stayed like that for the whole night... I was still very excited in spite of everything... and Bruce was sleeping so peacefully, so relaxed and comfortable, I almost feel like crying to see my beautiful baby without worries or pain, I felt his soft breathing on my breast "Grandpa?" Ohh he woke up "Yes sweetie?" I said in a soft voice. "Can I come down to your legs?" "Of course you can honey" with huge muscular mastery I opened my monumental chest. "Sorry Bruce, I have to scream, it's so exciting..." GRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA IT FEELS SO POWERFUL.. I felt the little guy go down my huge chest using the stretch marks as a grip causing me more pleasure I immediately calmed down, bruce reached my leg, I didn't feel him fuck.... He wasn't heavy at all, I have to be careful how I move, I couldn't see him because my chest was so massive "Wow grandpa you are so big.... Your leg is bigger than those tree trunks l, so much bigger..... It feels so hard grandpa and you're not even flexing it, it's kind of scary to stand next to a leg that's 6 times my size, with your thick hair and big veins everywhere." "I know it must be a hard thing to process son... but I don't want you to be afraid, I would never hurt you not one bit of my massive body want that, the only thing I exist for is to protect you Bruce, I love you my little honey.

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

Hey everyone, this storyfied roleplay is quite a slow burn and turned out to be just an experiment on how to tease. Enjoy! --------------- Credits to the following (discord) role-player’s I met to create this: CookiesAreCool, MwS Copyright disclaimer: I don't own any picture. I link every source if possible. Please contact me or a moderator in case of demanded removal.

chapter 1 Marcus pov “Babe a package arrived for you says it’s from titan corp” my adorable husband ray said. I carefully went down the stairs even though they were reinforced i was still 500 pounds of muscle. I grab him from behind lifting him up “i still can’t believe I convinced you to marry me” I say kissing him. He blushes “I think I should be the one saying that your the beautiful dark god the swept me off my feet with your love of dnd” ray said looking at me with nothing but love and a little lust as he reminded me of how we got together. about 7 years ago the government randomly selected people for the titan program which was really just them testing out super solider serum on the lower class wether it work on you or not you got a fat check and all medical covered for life and free college. And it worked for me went from a 140 pounds to 500 all muscle and I’m still growing a bit. After my results and a bunch of tests I was released and went to a nearby college where I met ray a kinda chunky guy but the way his eyes lit up when he talked about dnd or his other hobbies drew me in and after we hung out a few times I asked him out the rest is history. I opened the package and pulled out the vial inside the same stuff that grew me “babe this is for you even though I think your perfect the way you are I wanted to give you the option to grow as big as me” “how did you even get your hands on this isn’t this worth millions as this point “ ray says “I pulled some strings alright don’t worry ” I put the vial in his hand “just drink it if you want to or toss it up to you babe” ray pov I didn’t even have to think about it I opened it and downed it in one go. Even though I knew he loved me for me I always had that voice in my head that I wasn’t worthy enough to be in a relationship as perfect as this one. Just seeing him walking around the house made me hard and now I was gonna grow just as big as him (picture of Marcus)

A trip to the fortune teller gives Mark the answer to his relationship problems, although not in the way he expected. I hope you all enjoy! ~~~~~ “Come inside Mark” I entered the small room, its walls covered with posters showing astrological signs, tarot cards, and other assorted mystical adornments. A friend of mine had suggested this particular woman, vouching for her and enthusiastically repeating that she was the real deal and could probably help me with whatever problem I was having. I took a seat across from her at a small table covered with an intricately patterned fabric. I half expected there to be a crystal ball in the middle for her to wave her hands over and peer into as she read my fortune. Normally I wouldn’t seek out the help of a fortune-teller, but my friend had been so insistent that I visited her if for no other reason than to get him to stop pressuring me. Besides, I could only stand to benefit. Even if I lost fifty bucks in the process. Although a small sign in the front window said “satisfaction guaranteed!” “Tell me, what can Madame Garmand help you with?” She asked as she adjusted a shawl draped over her shoulders that was also a very ornate and intricate fabric. “Well, I’ve been having some problems in my relationship with my boyfriend. I want to know if things will get better with him or if I should move on.” “You want to leave him?” “No… not really. We get along well, and we share a lot of interests. Things have just gotten… stale. Like there’s no spark anymore.” “And you want me to tell you if this spark will come back.” “I suppose so. All I know is that if things stay the same, I’m not sure I want to stay with him.” “I see. Would you happen to have something that he gave you? Something that was a romantic gift.” I wasn’t expecting this. I pulled my backpack onto my lap and started searching for something. Near the bottom of the bag was a warm hat Erik had given me last autumn when my ears were cold after not dressing warm enough. It was our fourth or fifth date and we had been going out for about a month and Erik offered it to keep me warm. The next day I tried to give it back, but Erik had insisted that it looked better on me. I handed this hat across the table and the fortune teller took it. She examined the plain hat and asked, “this is your romantic gift?” with only a hint of skepticism. I explained the story and she nodded slowly, satisfied that the item would suffice. She laid it in the center of the table and said, “give me your left hand.” I reached out and she grasped it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. We sat there in silence for what felt like five minutes. Her eyes were moving under her eyelids as though reading something written on the other side. She opened her eyes and looked at me as her lips formed a crooked smile. “I have the solution to your problems.” “You do? That was… fast.” “It will cost you extra, but I guarantee it will work. Or I’ll refund you all the money you spent here today.” I was little surprised. I didn’t think there would be an upsell at a fortune teller. But considering her guarantee, I figured I had come this far so I may as well see it through. At least that way I gave it an honest try. “Alright, fine.” I pulled the cash from my wallet and handed it over to the fortune teller. She plucked it from my fingers with a bit of a flourish. “You won’t regret it dear.” Then she winked and walked out of the room. I heard some rummaging, and a few things crashed in the other room. She probably lived in the small boutique shop. She spoke loudly from the other room, “My services sometimes go beyond your usual tarot card reading or tea leaves. You’re lucky you came to me, you’re one of the lucky ones that will benefit from my… unique skills in fashion.” I wasn’t sure what she meant, I just hoped my money wasn’t wasted on a fortune teller that was out of her mind. She came back into the room with a small cardboard box. “Take this home with you and wait until you’re alone to put it on. Wear it as you go about your day and that spark between you and Erik will be back before you know it. If there are any problems, or you aren’t completely happy, you can find me here.” I was intrigued and started opening the box, but Madame Garmand stopped me “Wait until you’re home to open it! Now go, I have another client waiting.” And she shooed me out the door. Slightly confused, I got on the next bus and headed for home. ***** Once back at the apartment, I gave in to my curiosity. I pulled the small box out of his backpack and opened it. Some tissue paper was wrapped around whatever was inside. I had guessed it was something to wear, but what would fit inside such a small box? Pulling back the paper, what was inside was a jockstrap. It was a navy blue, very similar in color to the hat I had shown the fortune teller. I held it in my hands, a little shocked at what I had spent the extra money on. What had the fortune teller seen that made her think this would be the salvation of my relationship with Erik? I set aside the doubts in my head and followed the instructions. I undressed and put on the new garment. Stepping in front of the mirror to get a better look, I found there were two buckles, one on each hip. The pouch was a stretchy material that held my junk in place. Turning around in front of the mirror, I found a handwritten product tag hanging from the waistband. For those seeking more. Moisture wicking fabric. Buckles for easy undressing. Washing may cause shrinking. Interesting product information. Not like I could read the selling points before buying it. It was early in the afternoon, and I figured I should go to the gym before Erik got back from his 9 to 5 office job. With the summer nearly here, I didn’t bother changing at the nearby gym, instead just walking over in workout clothes. I did my usual exercise routine. I had made some small gains in the few months since I started working out. I listened to music and zoned out while I moved from one machine to the next. I was working up a sweat today, probably because of the warmer weather. As I continued working out, I found that I was pushing more weight than previous weeks, adding more and more weight as I went. I must be getting stronger than I thought! Maybe I wasn’t pushing myself hard enough before. I was now on the leg press machine when I started to notice something was off. I was pushing two more plates than I was last week! And I wasn’t struggling nearly as much! The last exercise on my list is preacher curls. I loaded up my usual weight, but it took hardly any effort! I added more weight, probably more than I should be attempting. I stepped into the machine and started pulling. It was a struggle, but I was able to do ten full reps of this weight that should not be possible for me to handle. While I was resting between sets, I made eye contact with a sweaty, muscular hunk. I gave him a node and he nodded back at me. I tried another set with this weight, and I somehow managed to get 15 reps! That was the last set of my workout, so I whipped the sweat off the machine and made my way to the doors. It wasn’t until I was walking past a wall of mirrors that I realized the sweaty hunk I had seen earlier was just my reflection! I had grown bigger muscles while I was working out! I was in shock as I inspected the changes in the mirror. I must have gained 30 lbs.! I turned and started flexing, aghast that it was my own reflection that showed such a physique. My mind was reeling. I made my way home. When my shirt and shorts felt tighter during my workout, I assumed my sweat was causing the fabric to stick to my skin. But as I walked home, I could feel the shorts tightening around my bigger thighs. The sleeves on my t-shirt were bunching around my upper arms. Was I still growing? Some drivers were turning their heads as they drove by. I picked up the pace so I wouldn’t cause an accident. By the time I got home, my clothes were skin-tight. You could see my substantially bigger muscles through the fabric. I peeled them off and looked in the mirror, where I had stood just a couple hours prior with far less muscle packed on my frame. I now looked like I had been a gym rat for years, almost ready to compete in a junior bodybuilding tournament. I had definitely grown since I left the gym. But after spending fifteen minutes looking over the changes in the mirror, I could say for sure that the growth has stopped. This must have something to do with the underwear Madame Garmand had sold me. I was thrilled with the changes and the hardon I sported under the stretchy material agreed. But I wondered how much bigger I would get. How much bigger I wanted to get… That’s when I heard the keys turn the lock at the front door. Erik was home, and it was time to show him how I had changed. “Hey, I’m home. How was your day?” Erik said as he set his things on the table by the door. “How do you think my day went?” I asked as I stepped out of the bathroom in just the new jockstrap. “I… you… what? How did this…” He could only stammer, his brain trying to process how his boyfriend’s head was now on the body of this Adonis. “So, you like it?” I said with my best sexy voice and grin. “Yeah I do! How did this happen?” “I talked to a friend who pointed me in the direction of someone who could help us get out of this rut our relationship has been in. I didn’t know it would be… this” I said as I flexed my biceps. “You’re sexy as hell now, that’s what happened! You’re like my fantasy guy come to life! You were always good-looking, but this is a whole other level!” I saw how much Erik liked this enhanced version of my body and I went with it. “Well come over and feel this whole other level.” That was the only prompt Erik needed. He was all over my new body. Feeling his way over every new inch of cobblestone that covered my torso. I flexed my arms and he would gasp, feeling the peak of my bicep and swooning. It wasn’t long before we were making out on the bed, with his body on top of mine. It felt like he was trying to feel every inch of me with as much of his body as possible. Things got steamier as time went on. With all the groping and flexing, I was starting to heat up and get sweaty. Erik pulled away from our make out session and looked at me with a puzzled look on his face. “flex you arms again.” “You want to see your big man’s muscles again” I said in my sexy voice and threw my arms up in a double bicep pose. Erik looked a little shocked “you’re getting bigger!” I jumped up and stood in the mirror next to the closet. He was right, I was now just as big as some of the biggest guys I had ever seen at the gym. “Tell me exactly what happened today” I retold the events of the day in detail. “So, this jockstrap is making your muscles grow?” “It must be, given all the things the fortune teller said. You did go wild when you saw my bigger size.” “And you do look sexy as hell in nothing but this jockstrap” Erik was now standing next to me, looking me over in the reflection with a sultry smile. His hand was rubbing my abs, which now formed deep lines showing an eight pack most seasoned gym-goers would die for. I looked down into Erik’s eyes, “do you want me to take this off and we can really get it on?” “Hell no! I want you bigger!” I was a little surprised at this, but the more I experienced these growth spurts, the more I liked them. “How big do you want me to get?” I said in my bedroom voice. I walked over and sat on the bed, sinking into the mattress more due to my increased weight. “I want to see how big you can get. But first I want to test something. I think I know how this growth thing works.” He walked out of the room and returned a minute later with a measuring tape. He wrapped it around my arm “20 inches! That already pretty huge!” “Alright. What do you need me to do now?” “Do some jumping jacks or run in place. I want you to get sweaty again.” I did what Erik told me. I started doing jumping jacks while he admired my rippling muscles as they flexed and moved through the motion. After a few minutes of this, sweat was beading on my skin, and after another few minutes Erik told me to stop. He wrapped the tape around my arm again “21 inches! I knew it!” Then he was looking at the tape more closely “you’re still growing! You’re up another quarter inch from just a minute ago. Take the jockstrap off!” I once again did as I was told and slid it down my legs with some difficulty getting over my blown-up butt and thighs. Another measurement revealed the growth had halted. “That must be it then. You grow when you’re wearing this and sweating.” “Eureka! What do we do with this new-found discovery?” I asked while bouncing my pecs and waggling my eyebrows. “Put this back on, then let’s get you sweaty again!” This new, commanding side of Erik was surprising, but I liked it. I slipped the undergarment back on and as soon as I was done Erik pushed me to try to get me on the bed. It didn’t work, as I now outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds, but I played along and fell backwards for him. He straddled my midriff and his hands wandered all over my body. We were making out again while Erik rubbed his hard cock over my abs, bumping his ass into my erection that was trapped inside the pouch of the magic jockstrap. With the making out and rubbing, combined with Erik laying on top of me, it didn’t take long for me heat up and start sweating again. Slowly my muscles crept up in size. I couldn’t see but I could feel larger muscles fighting for space on my frame. It took Erik longer and longer rub the entire surface of my swollen pecs. Erik stopped kissing me and pushed himself up to look at my face. “Let me fuck you. My fantasy has always been to fuck a huge muscle stud.” “Anything you want, big guy” This was my pet name for Erik in the bedroom. I was taller than him at an even 6 feet tall, where he was 5’8”. But the nickname was due to his dick that was a surprising 9 inches long. I wasn’t a size queen but judging by today’s event’s it seemed as though Erik was definitely some sort of size queen. Erik jumped off of me to get the lube. While he did that I looked into the mirror from my position on the bed, and I was now definitely the size of a heavyweight champion, just as big as the Mr. Olympia competitors. I used my finger to guide a drop of sweat down the deep channel between my pecs, down further between the trenches of my abs, and onto the waistband of the underwear. Looking into the mirror, there was a subtle but noticeable surge of growth. Now I would definitely win the title of Mr. Olympia if I wanted to. Erik had retrieved what he was looking for and I raised my legs so he could get to his goal. With me on my back and everything lubed up, Erik started to push big dick into my waiting hole. I shivered as the inches filled me. I was enjoying every moment of it. The growth only added to the experience, the feeling was intoxicating. I was surprised to find that I was turned on by the strength and size of my newly enhanced muscles. Erik was now balls deep inside me and started to slowly move in and out. As he did so I would flex different parts of my body. This drove us both wild. My chest was sticking out on top of my chest and each time I looked at Erik I could see less of him, with more of my field of vision being taken up by my growing pectorals. Erik leaned forward and started licking my nipples. This sent a shockwave of pleasure down my spine. They were never this sensitive before. My pecs being bigger than the size of my head must have changed that. I instinctively moved my head side to side, but my trap muscles had grown so big that it was limiting how far I could move. I closed my eyes to let the feelings wash over me. I could feel the growth surge a little bit. I opened my eyes and looked down as far as I could. Erik was using his hands to guide the sweat on my skin down to the waistband to accelerate the growth. These waves of growth came with waves of pleasure. I couldn’t hold back my orgasm any longer. “I’m… gonnaa… cummmm” I breathed out. A moment later, a dark spot was blossoming on the fabric of the pouch as my stiff 6-inch cock jerked and twitched under its fabric confines. Then a new wave of pleasure hit me like nothing before. My twitching rod started to lengthen and grow. Both our eyes widened in shock. Erik completely stopped moving. Another spurt of cum erupted from my dick, this one larger than the last, and again my cock grew longer and thicker, my balls swelling to the size of chicken eggs. I was lost in these new feelings of growth. Another, larger spurt of cum grew the dark spot on the underwear, and again my dick grew larger. It was now bigger than Erik’s once larger phallus and it wasn’t slowing down. It continued to creep up in size, “it has to be over 11 inches!” Erik yelled excitedly. He pulled out and grabbed the tape measure, lining it up with my dick. “12 inches!” He was so excited by this turn of events. “You’re now a member of the footlong dong club!” My dick let out one last huge eruption. I moaned as the pleasure of my dick swelling wracked my body. The underwear expanded to cover the growing member. My dick swelled and swelled. “Holy fuck. It’s now 18 inches long” Erik said in a raspy voice. He started rubbing his hard dick against my growing python. He finally lost control let loose his own torrent of jizz on the underside of my dick. Then the growth, and the pleasure, went into overdrive. My cumshots were getting bigger as my balls swelled bigger than grapefruits. My cock grew faster than ever, inching up between my massive pillowy pecs. It steadily marched on as I watched it grow past my face. I finally stopped cumming, but it wasn’t until the tip was a few inches above my head that the growth seemed to stop. But it hadn’t. My massive cock was losing its hardness, but the size stayed the same. It was still growing as fast as it was softening. As it softened, the stretch of the underwear pulled the shaft back down over my testicles that were now the size of beach balls. While our focus was on the huge cock that had sprung out of my groin, I was reminded that my muscles had still absorbed sweat during that time. The reminder came in the form of my decreased mobility. I tried to stand up, but my muscles were taking up so much space on my frame that it made movement difficult. My huge shoulders were now so wide that they were touching both sides of the king-sized bed. With some help from Erik, I was able to stand on my own two feet. But between my two feet, and resting solidly on the ground, was my cock wrapped in that navy blue jockstrap. The growth had finally come to a stop. The underwear managed to envelope my gargantuan dick and somehow held everything in place. “This… You… are incredible” Erik was looking over my now-enormous body. I could see a fire in his eyes and I knew this was the spark that had been missing. “Help me get out of this thing?” This shook Erik out of his trance. I now knew why the design of the underwear had included the buckles. I was hardly able to reach them as my muscles fought for space, but I managed to unclip the waistband. Erik helped me remove the musky cum-soaked fabric and allow my dick to sprawl out in front of me. With his measuring tape, Erik determined that my dick was now as long as I was tall. And my back was ever wider than either of the two measurements. “How am I going to get out of here? And what am I going to wear?” “Well, we know this fits you” he said as he twirled the somehow-not-destroyed underwear around his finger. “The rest we’ll figure out tomorrow. For now, let me sleep cuddled on top of my god of a boyfriend. I laid down on the bed and Erik nestled in on top of me. My dick crested over my huge balls that were bigger than I had been this morning and the tip laid on the floor. While I listened to Erik snore happily, I thought about my new changed body and how much I loved it. And how much bigger I might want to get.

Hello there! Just joined recently and wanted to write a story, so this is my first attempt at it. This chapter will mostly be set up, so not a ton of action at this point but hopefully it will set the scene. If you're more interested in the action I would recommend skipping to Chapter 4, when it is complete. The other couple chapters beforehand are just a small bit of exposition for those interested but probably not completely necessary. Warning: this has some religious tones in it and if that makes you uncomfortable I would recommend not reading this. Chapter 1: I woke up to the sound of my alarm blaring in my ear. I absolutely hate that sound, jolting me out of a deep sleep. I had to give myself a pep talk to get out of bed, "come on John! Time to get up, you don't have time to lay around!" It was a Sunday morning and it was time to get ready to go to church. I sat up and stretched my body - flexing my toned 15 inch biceps as I contracted my arms. I stood in front of my bedroom mirror shirtless, just my tight underwear on. I flexed a little looking at my defined abs, nice set of pecs and toned arms on my 6' body. I'd really been hitting the gym for 5 days a week for quite a while, eating as often and as clean as I could. I was proud of my body at 28, I had worked really hard to improve my health and to maintain a weight of 185lbs. As much as I'd like to flex a bit I really had to get going - it was nearly time for church and I'd slept in a bit. I changed my underwear and put on a nice pair of khaki pants and a blue button-up shirt. The clothes weren't very form-fitting but I definitely could see some definition from my shirt. I styled my brown hair into a neat, handsome comb over. After brushing my teeth and lacing up my blue flat-footed shoes, I was ready to go! I stepped out of my small 1000sqft 2bed 1bath home. I climbed into my sedan and headed to church that was only a few minutes down to the corner. I've been going to Faith Church ever since I'd moved here to the South. The people there are very friendly and I always enjoy going to the services. It's especially been nice being a part of something since I've moved away from most of my social connections and family. I text back and forth but rarely ever see anybody in person. Honestly, sometimes it was hard to go. I'd been deep in the closet my whole life. I've known I've been attracted to men since a young age. I remember seeing men on underwear packages in the store looking at their muscled and defined torsos. Or shirtless men on the front of men's fitness magazines. I knew that I wanted to look just like that when I grew up. I am not really sure where the envy began and when the attraction started. Growing up in an evangelical background I felt so much shame and confusion around my own attractions. Yeah, I liked taking a look at men's bodies; I wanted to be desired and to desire another man. Being with someone was something my straight peers got to indulge in but in my context I would never be able to enjoy the same relationship. Not me. Honestly, it just filled me with a touch of sorrow. I had very deep connections with friends but now that I was separated by distance we have started to drift a part. It's made living here quite hard even though I needed to move here for my career. I can't say that I wasn't jealous of them too. They were all finding partners, getting married, having children. Meanwhile, I was drooling over meat heads at my local gym. Well after stewing over that less than savory stream of thoughts in my head for the thousandth time, I finally had arrived. There were small groups of families filling the front door of the church with stained glass panels all around the church. I quickly got out of my car and shuffled my way to my usual seat in the back corner of the church. No one really talked with me apart from a few waves and "Hey John!" 's since church was just moments from starting as the piano player began playing a hymn. I settled into my seat, looked through the bulletin, and opened my Bible. I started looking around to see if the pastor was getting ready to welcome everyone to church. Just as the music slowed and the pastor stood up a MAN walked by and sat just in front of me. I didn't quite get a good look of his face but he had a thick head of well-styled, faded brown-hair with just a few strands of gray here and there. He was wearing a really nice smelling aftershave. And he was absolutely fucking massive. He was wearing a tighter red and grey shirt made of a cotton fabric, but the definition of his muscles couldn't be hidden. His traps were huge and encroached upon his girthy neck whose muscles flexed and moved with every little adjustment. I could see his big delts and wife back that fanned out giving him an imposing figure. The pastor began speaking, "welcome everyone. Let me go over a few announcements..." I couldn't pay attention whatsoever. I began to clam up and my dick began to engorge. I looked around and thankfully no one was near me. I was getting a full hard-on in church, as I placed my bulletin over my pants to hide my thick boner from popping out of my pants. Should I be thinking of another man this way in the middle of church? "Please stand and turn to hymn 330. 330" the music director said in a booming, hearty voice. I quickly scrambled for the hymnbook and stood up pushing my dick against the pew in front of me. While the beautiful specimen of a man stood up simultaneously. I quickly looked at his body. His body had a very pleasant shape with his wide back slimmed into his midsection. His shirt was tucked in to a nice pair of tight-waisted gray pants. His glutes bulged out of his pants and his quads were noticeable in the upper part of his pants. I sang along to the hymn but kept getting distracted by the extremely attractive man in front of me. I began to feel a little bit guilty about lusting after this man in church. But this was the story of every person I've been allured to. They were a nice piece of meat for me to look at but remained a forbidden fruit. Men were nice to fuel my fantasies but never to be had. It was frustrating. I thought to myself, "John pull yourself together. Pay attention. Pay attention. Pay attention." But I just can't. The entire service I hardly paid attention to the pastor giving a sermon, any of the liturgy, or the multiple songs. The whole service was my sexual frustration running through my head over and over again. Eventually the whole congregation stood up as the pastor prayed a long and winding closing prayer to dismiss us. It was strange having my head up in the clouds the entire service. All I could think about was what the front of this man looked like as I could hardly even get a side profile. "... Amen." the pastor said loudly, as the congregation replied, "Amen." "You are free to go," he said as the whole congregation gathered their items and began to get ready to depart for home or a restaurant. The man in front of me turns around to gather his items from the pew. He was even more perfect than my mind could conjure up during the service. He was around 5'9" and weighed around 230lbs. Man, was he handsome. He looked to be around his mid-30s. His hair was quite immaculate, and he kept a very short beard on his face tracing out a strong, chiseled face. He had dashing, kind, deep blue eyes. His lips were full and formed a joyful smile. His pecs filled out his tucked in shirt quite nicely, as a sligh outline of his nipped poked through his shirt. I had to jump at my chance immediately. I immediately blurted out, "Uh. Hello sir! My name is John it's nice to meet you." He looked up with a large smile and confidently brought out his veiny hands to shake mine. I obliged and shook his powerful hands. He gripped my hand confidently. "It's nice to meet you John. My name is Charlie!" he said in a deep, confident voice. "Well, we're glad you came this morning Charlie. I hope you found the service to be uplifting!" I said with a slight nervousness in my voice. I was in the precense of one of the most handsome men on earth, it was hard for me not to be. "Oh, yeah. I loved it. I thought the sermon was quite thought-provoking. I just moved to the area, so I have been visiting some churches here and there." Charlie replied, leaning on the pew behind him and cross his arms, causing his forearms to flare up underneath his shirt. " Oh, well, I am new to the area too. If you're looking for a friend maybe we could trade numbers and explore the city together?" I said with eager anticipation. "Oh, well that actually sounds great! I haven't really found anybody to hang out with yet and being single it's been kinda hard to adjust to everything here." My heart just melted. I can't believe that this was actually working. Maybe this was all just a bad idea, getting this close to an absolute hottie was a mistake. But there was no way I'd pass up getting to know this dude. I quickly handed him my phone, opened my contacts, as he did the same for me. I typed my information into his phone. "I'll text you sometime this week, dude! I gotta head out here soon but we'll figure out some time to hang out." Charlie said, shaking my hand again. It amazed me how confident and friendly he was. He was so comfortable in his own body. He was just the type of man I dreamt of when I was younger. He typified everything I loved about men and their personalities and body. The rest of the day my thoughts were occupied with nothing but Charlie. I've been so good about not jacking off, watching porn, or lustful thoughts. But Charlie completely derailed that and threw me for a loop. I edged the whole day thinking about his body. Eventually before I went to bed I completed my nightly routine of taking a shower and planning out my next day. I stripped off all my clothes down to my underwear. My dick was so hard, as I looked down at my bulge in my underwear. I began to rub myself through the fabric. It had been so long since I'd released any sexual tension and I was ready to burst. I pulled my underwear down releasing my dick as it flopped out onto my flat stomach. I began to think of Charlie stripped down to his underwear. His strong muscles drenched with sweat and pumped up beyond belief. His handsome, manly face looking down at his ripped body, heavily breathing as his chest quickly expanded and collapsed. "So... Fucking... Handsome... Uufffffhh" It was too much to think about much further. I began to cum all over my own body. The orgasm was one of the most intense I'd ever had before. I was so tired afterwards I didn't even want to clean myself up. It all felt so guilty but felt so amazing. I fell asleep with my cock out and cum all over my body...

I had to overcome my Catholic guilt writing this one. Haha. I always wanted to write something from my culture and took this season as an opportunity. For many of us, whether we believe in it or not, religion is a cultural thing. Anyway, enjoy! Merry Christmas! PART 1 It was the middle of December, and Joshua Figueroa still felt groggy from the overlong flight from Heathrow to NAIA and from the two-hour bus ride to his hometown in Urreta. His father Domingo had failed to meet him in Manila. “The car broke down,” Domingo said. But Joshua knew that the old man would rather tend to his fighting roosters than inconvenience himself for his own flesh and blood. “You’re a big boy,” he called earlier. “I’m sure you can get home before dinner.” Domingo’s words proved true that afternoon when he heard his son’s footsteps coming from the wooden staircase leading to the antesala. There at the doorway of the comedor, with luggage in hand, stood a 5-foot 7-inch and 200-pound muscle bound man. “You grew.” Domingo sipped his hot chocolate which Felicidad had brought him earlier. “Of course. I wasn’t writing all the time.” The truth was, Joshua got depressed living solo as a graduate student at King’s College. Sure, the abundance of knowledge and the prestige he could get nowhere else first attracted the 140-pound man when he had stepped inside the university. But he realized later that he needed variety in his life, away from the dusty halls and dreadful conversations too common in his field. And so he used the scant time he had working out. He only wanted to blow some steam off initially. But the next thing he knew, he was putting more hours in the gym, lifting heavier weights, and gaining more quality muscle. And to prove to himself how serious he was, he hired a personal trainer named Liam who got him access to gear. “You should compete,” Liam said. “Your proportion and symmetry are to die for. If you diet down hard enough, you could place.” “I’ll think about it.” The new Joshua surprised his peers and advisers. They could not fathom how he even found time to build a phenomenal body when papers were demanding to be written. Joshua suspected that they secretly blamed his mediocrity to his lack of sacrificial dedication to the academe. But the call of the iron and the pump had already caught his heart. At least one man other than himself enjoyed his new body. As soon as he landed in Manila, Ethan called for a brief meet up over coffee. “You look like you ate yourself whole. I like it,” Ethan said, sipping his cappuccino. Merlinda, the town chandler, also said something of the like when he arrived in the cemetery to visit his mother’s grave. Such comments boosted his confidence, a little reminder that he had gone beyond that lanky kid who would ruin the game for his teammates. But there he was now, in the Figueroa ancestral house, standing before his father who kept talking about the time he lifted weights in the 70s. Joshua slept the whole afternoon and woke up late into the night. Felicidad had left him a dinner of chicken tinola which she herself cooked after Domingo’s favorite rooster lost. He devoured the lukewarm meal. He went back to bed, but he found it hard to sleep. His body was still getting used to the eight-hour difference. He wondered how he can survive this sleepy town. His friends in high school only consisted of the members of the chess club, and they had all found work abroad. He was basically setting himself up for a lengthy, unproductive holiday. But Manila was too terrible a city to offer a better alternative. Earlier that morning, inside that small comfort room in the café, Ethan was kissing his pecs and caressing his biceps. His fingers were tracing the details of his washboard abs down to his hardening cock. Seconds later, the smaller man was ramming his ass, reminding Joshua who the boss really was. At the end of the day, Ethan had powerful friends who could take Joshua to places. “See you in a few days,” Ethan said after their quick session. “The guys wanted a get-together. Carla suggests we discuss Philippe Léandre’s new work on post-humanism. But it’s Christmas, and who’s in the mood for that?” He kissed Joshua goodbye. The sound of church bells cut his thoughts short. He checked his phone. It was 4:30 in the morning. He slid the capiz shell window open and watched a familiar scene. The baroque Urreta church dominated the plaza mayor. In its yard stood a nativity scene, its manger still left empty. Cars, tricycles, and jeepneys sounded their horns to signal the arrival of the faithful. Paról or star-shaped lanterns lit every tree in the plaza where gathered the town’s families, couples, musicians, and street food vendors. It was the 16th of December, the first of the Misas de Aguinaldo or the nine Masses celebrated each early morning before Christmas Day. None of the Figueroas were religious, save for Joshua’s mother who took the burden of lighting a candle for her unbelieving relatives. Joshua used to attend such Masses with her because she would reward him afterwards with an ice cream bun and a bag of bibingka or baked rice cake. A brass band would play carols in the plaza grandstand. He would play with the street kids before his mother would call him to help her carry the bags from the market. These things made up his childhood memories of the season, different from those of his British peers who talked of Father Christmas and roast chicken and snow. Joshua got up to get dressed. If he could not sleep, he might as well do something else. He opened his grand wardrobe for some decent church clothes. He told his father to have Felicidad wash them before he arrived. But he realized just now that none of them fit him anymore. Nevertheless, he tried on his small PE shirt. Its sleeves just ripped off his arms before he even put the rest of the shirt over his head. He smirked, thinking how big he had become. He opened his luggage and took out some jeans and his favorite Nirvana t-shirt. He then saw himself topless in the wardrobe mirror. He smiled. His body looked magnificent. His eyes feasted on his broad shoulders, his bulging arms and pecs, the supple lines and curves crisscrossing his torso, all visible under the moon and lantern lights. He got hard in seconds. But his brief vanity gave way to the sound of the bells. He changed quickly and walked out of the house. He let the cool air hit his body as he strolled across the plaza. He let the smell of steamed glutinous rice and coconut milk fill his nostrils. The kids were already up, singing Christmas carols and asking strangers for some spare coins. When they saw Joshua, they flexed their arms. He flexed back and let them touch his 19-inch biceps. The town was full of life, and all the misery in the world vanished like vapor. Joshua felt like a kid again. He wished he could feel like one forever. The church was packed. Joshua came in later than most, so he had no choice but to stand up in the aisles during the whole service. He could force himself in the pews, but he knew he would take up too much space that could have been given for a grandma and her little girl. The pipe organs resounded. “Veni, veni, Emmanuel!” chanted the choir up the loft. Incense invaded Joshua’s nostrils and sent his soul to the holy of holies. And there in the wide nave, walked with utmost devotion, the ministers, acolytes, lectors, priests, and finally, the monseñor. One of the priest had a deep set of eyes which made his face a handsome one when in a good mood and a tired one when not. This time, the gauge turned to “Tired.” Joshua thought he looked familiar, and so he rummaged the obscure parts of his memories. He failed. He leaned against the pillar, letting the ceremony and the prayers pass by his consciousness. He had been dozing off from time to time. Finally his body was begging for a good rest. “Go in peace,” said the monseñor. Joshua came round from his deep slumber. The faithful who were moving out quickly while the choir was rushing through the recessional hymn. Joshua rubbed his eyes and yawned. He walked over to the side chapels by the church door where people were lighting candles and saying a few prayers to a myriad of holy images. One that caught his attention was a statue of a Dominican priest holding a ciborium in one hand and a statue of the Virgin in the other. The pedestal bore the name San Jacinto de Polonia, Urreta’s patron saint. “Making a wish, Josh?” He turned around. Before him approached the padre with a familiar face. He was two inches taller than Joshua. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt tucked into black slack pants, both oversized and made him look skeletal. His face screamed exhaustion. “Josh? Figueroa?” “Padre!” “Please, just Gío would be fine. Gío Castañeda? San Alberto Magno High School?” And then it him. Did he use play basketball? Was he that close friend of jock star Harrison Alvarez? “Oh, yes! Gío!” “Wow, man! You’ve gotten really big. How much can you bench?” A middle-aged woman approached the padre. She was carrying an image of the Santo Niño which looked too heavy for her little frame. She pressed her forehead on the padre’s hand and asked him to bless her statue of the Child Jesus. “Of course, Tita Tess. I’ll be in the grotto.” Tita Tess smiled and left. “It’s good to meet you here, Josh,” Gío said. “But I need to go. Duty awaits. See you!” He smiled and walked through the left aisle followed by more women carrying their icons, rosaries, and prayer books. Joshua noticed that the padre had a slight limp. He thought of Gío’s handsome face which triggered in him an unnamable desire. He brushed it aside. He was in a holy place after all. He turned his gaze back to San Jacinto. People said that if you complete all the nine Misas de Aguinaldo, your wish will come true. He never believed an ounce of it, but it sure filled the church to the brim during the holidays. He dropped a five-peso coin on the box that stood beside a jar of candles. He took one candle and lit it at the foot of San Jacinto. He rubbed his fingers on saint’s robes and made a sign of the cross. He then walked home, eager for a good sleep.

I woke up feeling my grandfather's huge chest and his hair on my chest, I didn't even feel that I was touching the bed, I started to feel and everything felt like steel, it was my grandfather's hard body, I felt his huge legs on top of me hugging me. - "good morning sun, after that fuck you fell fast asleep, I couldn't resist and I sucked you while you were asleep, I'm sorry son.... I was just hungry for you and you look so damn cute, in fact I feel bigger *grunts* it's like your pretty boy juices make me more powerful. It was true... I felt grandpa was bigger, I lifted my head and saw his arm, it looked thicker oh my god, the vein in his arm was thicker than my wrist or even thicker than my own arm. I touched his arm, to say my hand looked small was an understatement how can there be so much flesh on an arm, it looked bigger than the trunk of any tree literally. - "yeah honey my body is huge, I feel like I could crush this bed if I flexed a little *the bed creaks terrifyingly at the tremendous weight* fuck... I think I passed the 600 pound mark kid." - "hmmm yeah... look at your little hand on my gorilla arm it looks so small and fragile, it looks like it could break in the wind.... *places a monstrous paw on top of my smaller one* god... my grandpa paw completely engulfs yours, in fact I could cover your whole beautiful little head with my giant hand." - "it's barely morning and you're already making this geezer horny honey.... *kisses the top of my head lovingly* hmm your hair smells good son, maybe even better than my monster musk.... Maybe, it looks like this huge arm has you mesmerized, I don't blame you seeing something so fucking huge must be appealing by nature, that's how I feel when I see your skinny little body son, your smallness makes you so cute, my protective instincts kick in when you're near me, I want to protect you from everything and everyone my child, I want to be your blanket in the cold, the mountain that gives you shade in the sun, every lift I do with those ridiculous weights is for you, every breath my colossal chest takes is for you, nothing makes me happier than having you like this in my arms." Grandpa's words sent me to muscle daddy heaven, the most massive monster loved me unconditionally, stroking his arm I still came closer feeling his strong pectoral and hard nipple that tickled me as I moved, I started to lick his bicep, grandpa reacted and tensed his arm a little and got bigger and thicker for me, I couldn't stop drooling on his arm, I stuck my nose in his armpit and started to smell and his man musk, his smell was so strong and overpowering.. "Yeah son you like the smell of the old man in the mornings don't you? *deep growl* damn you're already licking my armpit, that gets me going boy *he puts his giant paw on my head and presses harder* that's what grandpa likes so much yeah... me smelling your precious hair and you smelling my giant armpit all for you... *, I start to press hard on grandpa's huge nipple, while I moan inside his armpit, grandpa's cock gets semi-hard and lifts my body* son stop... you don't want me to destroy the bed, if you go on like this I'll do serious damage to our surroundings *the bed creaks some boards cracking, grandpa's body tenses up*. "I'm serious son if you keep this up soon we won't even have a room to sleep in *grunts* if you don't stop I'll have to take you out. Grandpa grabbed me and pulled me out of his armpit, I breathed I stopped pressing his nipple but my mouth went to his huge nipple and I couldn't take it anymore and I bit it with all my strength, grandpa let out a quick scream everything got harder, it almost seemed like it was growing under me, the bed rattled in a frightful scream, he couldn't take it anymore, the bed was destroyed by the huge weight, my grandpa's body cushioned the fall and I felt no pain or anything, grandpa hugged me tightly as a consequence of the abuse to his giant nipple. "Look what you've done son, fuck I think I wrecked the floor too". Grandpa's body was rock hard, his chest hair prickled me a little, his embrace on me was tight, I began to worry that his state of arousal could not be controlled and he might break me "I'm growing boy... I feel so fucking hard and heavy, I definitely broke the 600 pound mark already, in this you turn me boy into a monster that keeps getting bigger and stronger, at this rate I'm going to get over the fucking house.... I feel huge. Between hugging his pecs I said to Grandpa "Grandpa you're crushing me". "Oh my god son...I'm so sorry I hurt you?..... *I shake my head* you see what I'm telling, you makes me stronger, having me so excited makes me lose control". He loosens his embrace on me but I am still in his arms, grandpa was panting deeply as if he had done intense exercise for a long time. Finally he lifts me up and I look at the damage caused by his body, the bed was in pieces, grandpa's underpants were torn by the pressure of his huge python, the floor was cracked by the blow, the old man gently laid me on the floor and I was speechless when I saw it. He was huge, no.. colossal, massive, I had definitely believed me and a lot his arms if they were twice my size before were now 4 times me, he could no longer see me through his pecs "damn boy now I can't see down my pecs" they were literally bigger than the front of our van and not to mention his nipples.. they were bigger than my erect cock each and as thick as a beer can, his abs or by god.... Each of her 10 pack was bigger than my head and they were so fucking defined I could clearly see the stretch marks, her legs once as thick as tree trunks now so massive I could most certainly crush a small car under them, I put my cold hand on top.. the little thing of nothing seemed to get lost in so much flesh, the aged beast growled animalistically The monster grandfather took a deep breath when he felt my soft touch... his mammoth cock moved, if before I didn't know how he put that thing in my ass now it was definitely impossible, he had a thick vein snaking his cock, it was throbbing like it wanted to get bigger it was so wild and animalistic... I trembled with excitement but at the same time with fear... seeing this abosolute monster made me almost pee there, even though I knew he would never hurt me and he was the most caring and loving being I was scared Grandpa saw my fear and growled "Son don't be afraid, I know I must look fucking intimidating now, fuck I'm so big.... So monstrous... but it's for you, I love you my precious boy *places a giant paw on my chin and gently strokes* holy god my fingers are so thick and big, just one of my fingers dwarfs your beautiful little face" *animal growl* his cock twitches again sending another shudder through me. "Damn it son you better get the fuck away from me, now I don't know how much fucking strength I have and you make me feel so horny my little.. *grunts* I don't want to hurt you by accident, please leave before I lose control again." "No, grandpa I don't want to leave you...I'm a little scared but I know you would never hurt me" I hugged as best I could the monster in front of me. Grandpa was holding back, growling loudly, with deep breaths, he stood still trying to calm the beast, whispering "he's so beautiful, Jesus my little James I love him so much, damn it...old man control him control the power, I will never forgive you if you hurt him...". Grandpa hugged me but gently trying not to hurt me, even so I felt him squeeze me tightly. He lifted me up and kissed me, a kiss like never before... aggressive, animalistic was his way of showing his primitive love for me, I melted into his colossal body letting him take control, he wrapped his arms around me, his cock lifted me up just with his strength, after the intense kiss the beast calmed down. "I need to weigh myself son, I need to see how you have made me bigger, more beastly" he gasped. He carried me in his arms to his personal gym, put me on the floor and stepped on the scale, he stepped on and the contraption made a scary noise and destroyed "fuck son, I'm too big and heavy for this shit... that contraption had a maximum capacity of 700 pounds, my handsome son made me grow way more than 100 pounds and I want to keep growing for you.." "But first Grandpa, can we have breakfast? All that growing up and watching you transform into a beast has given me an appetite." "Of course my boy, I'm hungry too I feel like I could eat a damn elephant...rest up, I'll fix breakfast today." I get up and we head to the kitchen grandpa made me breakfast an omelet with spices and he made himself a buffet to feed 20 men, he ate like a beast partly because he was still so excited. When he finished he looked at me with a face of complicity "I want to try something son" we went to the garage we had the van, a Smart he used and a car we wanted to sell in the scrapyard. "I need to crush something son", he lifted the car with his hands as if nothing, the car groaned noisily as it was lifted, he held it with a huge paw while with the other he sunk his monstrous fingers into one of the ends, grandpa started to crush the car from end to end as if wanting to smash it... the car windows exploded, the metal and steel bent, grandpa grunted but not for the effort if not for the thrill of crushing I was behind watching his gigantic back it was so wide it could completely cover the car behind me, I started to touch myself watching this old beast smash the thing like nothing.... "Fuck my fucking arm is thicker than this garbage.. it feels so fucking light and it must weigh like a ton" *he laughs deeply* "there is nothing stopping me anymore, and I will keep getting bigger... bigger... stronger...." as he grunted these words he was crushing the car until he could embrace it "so much power... so much massiveness" *grunts* "this is all so fucking weak, you little shit" he shoved his monster cock in and started pounding it hard, his cock destroying the metal. The old man was in a trance of musculature and self worship, he felt exaggeratedly powerful, some pre was coming out of his cock as well as mine. "Look at me son, I'm so big and strong, how I wish I had your beautiful soft ass on my cock instead of this wrecked car shit, the steel of this junk is so weak.. just breathing my monstrous chest crushes this.. but I can't, I would hurt you, I would hurt you, I would never in this life or the next want to see you sad or hurt.. that would break the heart of this beast that grows for you, but with time I will learn to control all this strength, just seeing you standing there touching your beautiful little cock thing makes me want to destroy this damn house *sigh* nothing and no one can stop me... only your beauty is able to make me feel weak, if someone would touch you, if someone would hurt you.... God only knows what I would do with that shit" grandpa's body tensed his protective instincts towards me made him alert, his muscles thickened and filled with power. Grandpa's feet were crunching the floor with his strength. I was trembling but not out of fear this time it was out of total excitement to see this massive Elder destroy that car like it was nothing, because of his words towards me.... "I don't know what to say grandpa, you love me so much..." - I started to cry as he touched me - "I just want you to be the happiest man in the world grandpa, sometimes I think you don't need me, you are so strong, big, confident, handsome, I'm so lucky to have you....". Grandpa looked at me very serious "Don't talk nonsense honey, I need you like the air I breathe, everything I do is for your happiness without you.... I wouldn't be so damn gigantic." He hugged the junk tighter, I could see his thick nipples piercing the metal, the old car had no shape anymore, he squeezed so hard that he broke it in two, if you can call a pile of junk two pieces, and moved closer to me.... he was a mountain, a fucking intimidating and imposing monster, he was tall, he must have been 7 inches now, maybe a little more, he lifted me up and hugged me "give this old son a kiss" he kissed me lovingly, his paw touched and caressed my penis, it felt good, I felt loved by my old monster..... End

This is simple one shot. A short story about love and muscle. I hope you enjoy it. Synopsis: Sean and Ali are college roommates who decide to go on a camping trip. They enter a stretch of Woods in upstate New York, known for strange occurrences. A place where dreams can come true. They dream of growth and something more. There is a stretch of woods in upstate New York as deep and mysterious as the wellspring of human desire. It’s a place older than any small town in the region, but not as old as the mountains that gird its borders; A place where strange occurrences are so common, they’re old hat. They say dreams come true in those woods. They, being the “locals”. Nightmares come true also, certainly, but this isn’t a story about nightmares. It’s one about dreams come true and desires, fulfilled… * “Let’s go camping,” Sean Ewing said, one day out of the blue, a week before the end of sophomore year at SUNY New Paltz. “Just the two of us.” Ali Demir looked up from his laptop, surprised. “Camping?” he asked. “Camping,” Sean said, as if it needed no further explanation. Get some tents, load up his SUV, drive somewhere off the beaten path, and rough it for a few days. Camping! Sean loved the outdoors and so did Ali, so why not? “Ok, sounds fun.” Ali smiled, and just like that, it was a done deal. That’s how they found themselves on a desolate stretch of rural highway, in Sean’s beat up Jeep Cherokee Laredo, heading straight for the forest of dreams come true. They were two strangers, who became college roommates, and then close friends, the type of friends who everyone wondered ‘Are they gay?’. Sean and Ali had a friendship that was only suspect because they were male. Their shared looks, and touching, and sharing of food off each other’s plates and drinks from each other’s glasses wouldn’t have gone unnoticed had they been born with vaginas instead of penises. New Paltz was far behind them now, and Sean’s GPS reception was going in and out, but they were on the right path. Just a little farther and they would arrive, and Sean would be in the woods, in a tent, with Ali Demir. And he would tell Ali how he felt; how he wanted to be so much more than friends and hopefully Ali would fill the same way. They’d make quite the couple. Him, with the all-American good looks, six foot two, with caramel brown hair, green eyes, and a chiseled jaw line. His body hard and lean from hours in the gym. And Ali, the foreign exchange student from Turkey, with his dark hair that hung just past his ears in waves, his dark piercing eyes with a face, less angular than Sean’s, and thick, luscious lips, that begged to be kissed. Ali loved soccer and played it any chance he got, giving him an athletic build, not heavily muscled, but pleasing to the eye. “You’ve been camping in this forest before?” Ali said in his thick Turkish accent that was both funny and oh so sexy to Sean’s ears. “Not in this particular place, but I’ve been camping nearby with my father and brother.” They whizzed by countless trees, whose long shadows stretched across the road. How many people had those trees seen, Sean wondered? Families. Friends, Lovers... “I’ve read these woods are special,” Ali said, staring out the open car window, a breeze running through his dark locks. “Special how?” Sean asked, glancing briefly towards his friend. “Like, people see weird shit?” Sean laughed. He always found it funny when Ali cursed. Him and a couple of friends had taught the Turk all the American curse words. ‘Shit’ and ‘Fuck’ were his favorites but with his accent they came out as ‘sheet’ and ‘fahk’. Ali eyed him coyly, then said “Shit, Shit, Shit!” Making Sean laugh even harder. When Sean regained his composure he said, “I don’t know about weird sightings, but I do know people say wishes come true in these woods.” How he hoped so. “Is that right?” Ali looked at him, with a smile playing on his sexy lips. Their eyes met briefly. “That’s right,” Sean said, turning away from Ali’s eyes. They were dark like the ocean at night. He could find himself lost in them. “So, I heard.” “This is it,” Sean announced after a moment of silence. He turned onto a narrow road covered by a canopy of branches so thick it was like going into a tunnel. They parked in a gravel lot that had a lookout. The two friends leaned on the railing taking in the sight of the Adirondack mountains far in the distance and a babbling brook below. Then they took a series of Instagram photos. In the final shot Sean captured the two of them together, arms slung over each other’s shoulders and biggest smiles plastered on their faces. They loaded their gear onto their backs and marched off, side by side down a mossy forest trail, just after Noon. Their packs were heavy and Sean was thankful they were both physically fit as they trudged up the sloping path. Ali moved ahead of Sean at one point. He wore shorts that fell just above the knee. Sean watched the ball of Ali’s lean calf rise and fall, flexing with each step. His eyes moved up and he gazed with lust at Ali’s firm, tight ass pushing out against the fabric of those shorts. Sean had always admired his friend’s ass. Oh, the things he’d do to that ass! How would it go? Sean found himself daydreaming on the long hike, fantasizing about the night to come. First, they would eat a light meal: fresh fish cooked over an open fire. Their eyes would meet across the flames as the fire’s hypnotic glow washed over them, it’s heat nothing in comparison to the passionate heat building within them. Sean would smile. Ali would smile and an unspoken pact would pass between them. Tonight, is the night we do it. The big It. Sean would say I’m tired, let’s hit the sleeping bags. Ali would agree and they would go, walking close, peeling out of their clothes. Of course, they would share a tent. Inside the tent, shirtless, wearing only boxers, the two would lie in repose atop the softness of their sleeping bags, gazing up sharing furtive glances at each other. Outside, the sound of nightlife would fill the air, a symphonic chorus of animals all seeking out mates of their own. Ali would make small talk about some obscure Oscar bait film he had seen, him being a film buff. Sean would listen intently, though he cared little for films, because he could listen to Ali talk about anything and enjoy it. Sean would rest on his side, leaning on his bent arm staring at Ali with a grin as he spoke. Staring, until the sexual tension was so thick it couldn’t be resisted any further. He would lean in closer and closer, feeling Ali’s nervous breath hit his face. Then the kiss, long and passionate, with lots of tongue. Sean’s hand would fall over Ali’s lean waist, running along his obliques. Ali would grip a bicep with one hand and Sean’s back with the other. Their pecs touch and their hearts would race with passion, beating as one. Ali’s hands would move lower to Sean’s underwear, seeking out his cock, tugging at it, letting it stiffen in his hand. Once Sean was as hard as he could get, Ali would go down on him, taking the thick seven and a half in cock in his mouth lubing it up, before turning to present his ass for penetration saying do you want it. Do you like it… “Do you like it?” “Huh?” Sean said, pulled from his daydream. “I was saying this looks like a good spot to setup camp,” Ali said. “Do you like it.” Sean looked around. Flat open land, with good shade, near the lake. “Yeah, I love it.” He pulled his pack off and let it fall to the ground. “It’s perfect.” They setup camp quickly and Sean said, “Wanna check out the lake.” Ali smiled. “Sounds good.” They walked down a slight incline through a copse of Aspens, whose trunks were so white and straight it was like passing through a series of roman columns. The path ended in an expanse of smooth stones, sedges, and mud. Larger stones, big enough to sit on bordered the lake. They each kicked their shoes off and claimed two stones side by side, then sat, letting their bare feet send waves across the shimmering water. Sean peeled off his shirt and tossed it on a log, deciding he’d like to get a little sun. He flexed his muscles slightly, and caught Ali looking him over. “All that working out is paying off for you,” Ali said. “You think so.” Sean looked down at his physique. His muscles taught and defined, but still pretty small. “I’ve still got some growing to do.” “Maybe so,” Ali said. “But most guys would kill to have a body like yours. I know I would.” Sean blushed. He loved when people complimented his body, but from Ali, it was really something special. “You’re not too bad yourself,” he said. “You have a good frame. If you started lifting weights, I think you’d surpass me.” Ali laughed. “I’m not so sure, but I might try to, how you say ‘bulk up?’” “Go for it, man.” Sean stood up, grinning. “Grow some guns like these.” He hit a double bicep pose. “May I…” Ali stood up and extended his hand. Sean instinctively leaned in, and Ali squeezed his bicep. “So hard.” Sean glanced down and noticed a bulge in Ali’s shorts. Apparently, his biceps weren’t the only thing hard. Ali was smiling widely as he poked and prodded Sean’s arms. “You like that?” Sean asked, feeling his own cock stiffening. “I’m just impressed,” Ali said. He poked Sean’s upper abs, then let his hand go lower, running his fingers over each abdominal bump. Sean wondered if he should kiss him. Would that ruin the moment or make it better? Their eyes met and for a split-second Sean was going to do it. He was going to lean in, grab Ali Demir behind the head and plant one on those luscious lips that demanded to be kissed. But he faltered. Instead, he continued to flex, letting his friend ogle over his physique. “You think I look go now,” Sean said. “Wait until you see me in a year. I’m going to be huge!” “I wish you were bigger right now,” Ali said. Sean smiled. “I think you might have a muscle fetish.” “A what?” Ali looked confused. “A fetish, you know. I mean maybe you don’t know. A fetish is like a thing that gets you off.” “Get off of what?” Ali asked. “I’m sorry, I know a lot of idioms, but not nearly enough.” Sean immediately felt uncomfortable at the thought of explaining ‘getting off’ to his crush, friend or no friend. “You wanna go for a swim?” Sean asked, changing the subject. “Absolutely!” Ali immediately took off his clothes. All. Of. His. Clothes. Sean was given a brief glimpse of his slightly erect cock before Ali leapt in the water with a splash. “Wow dude! I hadn’t planned on skinny dipping,” he said. Inside he thought yes! “Skinny dipping?” Ali made a confused face again. His wet hair was plastered to his head, shining like obsidian. “Swimming naked!” “Oh. In Turkey me and my cousins swam naked all the time. Haha. Skinny dip. Funny expression.” “Oh, so you’ve done this a lot.” Sean had hoped Ali had done it just for him. “Many times. Is best way to swim.” Ali did a back stroke, his cock coming close to the surface, but not breaking through. Sean shrugged and followed suit, stripping naked, then jumping in the water to join his friend. He wondered if some bird watcher somewhere had their binoculars trained on them or if some hikers caught sight of them. What must they think. Then it dawned on him. He was naked, swimming with his crush and yet he had been too uncomfortable to explain the expression ‘getting off’ earlier. He felt stupid. Ali was so open. He could talk to him about anything. He could say anything… Ask anything. “Ali, are you gay?” Please say yes. Please say yes. Please say yes. Ali stared at him briefly, then gave a coy smile. “Yeah, like you.” “Wait. You know I’m gay?” Sean was surprised. They never discussed sexual matters. “It’s obvious. No?” Sean didn’t think it was that obvious, but that didn’t matter. The important thing was Sean’s fantasy was a distinct possibility. He might very well have sex with Ali on this trip. He could hardly contain his happiness. The two swam and splashed water on each other for a bit before climbing back onto the rocks. Ali left the water first and Sean got a good look at his perfect ass in all its bare glory. Tight and round, and a little hairy, the sight of it made him light headed. They sat naked on the rocks, chatting, letting the sun dry them before getting dressed again. Sean thought about going in for a kiss several times during breaks in the conversation, but he decided he would save it. The night would be better, more romantic. Later that afternoon they returned to the lake with fishing equipment and caught a few trout for dinner. Sean cleaned a prepped the trout while Ali watched with rapt attention. The Turk had never cleaned a whole fish before, he admitted and honestly found he idea of touching the guts disgusting. Sean worked shirtless, not wanting to get fish blood on his shirt, and sensed that his friend was paying as much attention to his abs as he was the fish. Sean seasoned the fish with a little salt and pepper and skewered them on sticks. They roasted the fish over a crackling fire and ate until they were content, watching the flames die down to embers and the white ash drift toward the star-filled sky. “Look!” Ali shouted. He pointed to the horizon. A shooting star cut across the sky, followed by another, then another. A meteor shower. Sean took out his phone to film it. “Unbelievable!” he exclaimed, as gleeful as a child. “That one looks like it’s getting bigger.” They shared a confused look, then turned back to the sky. One meteor was not moving in the same direction as the other. It was headed towards them, an ever-expanding glowing orb. “Holy shit!” Sean followed its trail across the sky as it whizzed high over their heads. They heard a crash, far in the distance. “Do you think it landed in this forest?” Ali asked. “At that angle It had to of,” Sean said, grabbing a flashlight from the tent. “Come on!” He tugged at Ali’s arm and darted off in the direction of the crash. Ali raced behind him. They searched and searched to no avail. At one point it seemed they were going in circles. After an hour and a half Ali stopped him. He was sweaty and panting. “We’re not going to find. It’s too far away, wherever it is.” Sean shook his head in disappointment. It couldn’t have been that far away. He was sure of it, but he was tired as well. It would have been so cool to find he thought, but he decided to give up. Maybe they could look for it tomorrow. By the time they arrived at the tent the two friends were too tired to do anything but fall asleep. Sean couldn’t stay asleep long, however. He soon awoke with thoughts of the meteor in his head. Something in him urged him to seek it out. He glanced over at Ali, sleeping peacefully beside him and decided to let him rest. He’d look for it alone. Armed with a heavy walking stick in one hand and his flashlight in the other, he set out in search of the wayward space rock. He hadn’t been searching for long when he came upon it. Somehow, it was as if he knew where to walk. Some invisible force pointed him in the right direction, and he went along with it instinctively. The crater lay before him, an eerie blue glow rising from it, pulsing. The closer he came to its edge the less control he seemed to have. There was pulling, like he was iron, and the meteor was a magnet, and inside him there was a feeling. What was this feeling? Desire. Desire for what? Desire for what the meteor could give. But…What could a space rock give? He looked over the craters edge, that feeling of desire urging him along. At the center of the charred smoking earth a basketball sized rock sat. Veins of deep blue webbed it surface. It looked like no meteor he had heard about in school. Or were they called meteorites after they hit the ground? He’d forgot. The terminology wasn’t important in that moment, all that mattered was reaching it. But why? Why did he feel that desire? What could it give him? Carefully, he stepped down into the crater, which was a perfect circle many yards wide, and crouched beside the meteor. Its pulsing veins went dead! Its glow diminished to nothing in an instant and then…CRACK! Its surface split. Sean’s heartbeat with trepidation, his muscles tensed. From within the crack a black ooze spilled forth, bulging, bubbling, sending out pseudopods like an amoeba. Was it alive? The ooze was as shiny as greased obsidian in the glow of his flashlight. And Sean’s desire grew. He wanted it. Whatever It was. Without warning thin tendrils stretched upward and latched around his bare left forearm. Fear took hold in him as he dropped his flashlight and tumbled back, clawing at his arm, trying to get the ooze off of him. But the fear was only a short-lived response. A reaction to the sudden speed at which the being took hold of him. Within seconds the fear dissipated as he felt the ooze. Really felt it, as it stretched itself up his arm and melted into his skin. The feeling was orgasmic. What was this pleasure, this full body experience, that was better than sex? And then he noticed it. He knew now what he was desiring, what the meteor could give. He was growing! He saw it first in the forearm the ooze had latched on to. It was bigger than his other, disproportionate, like Popeye’s. Then his left bicep and tricep swelled, pushing against his skin, stretching it taught and thin, so thin that every vein and striation was visible. His arm must have been 20 inches around. So hard and lean. So large and powerful. He got an erection just looking at it. Then he felt his left delt and trap inflating, growing thick and full with more and more hard, dense muscle. He must have resembled tome deformed creature now, part of him looking like a Mister Olympia contender while the rest of him was skinny in comparison. And then his chest popped. Each pec swelled outward, shelf-like muscle titties, pressing against the fabric, threatening to burst free. With one swift motion of his muscled arm, he ripped the shirt clean off, exposing his new perfect pecs, the pecs of his dreams. Each one stacked with so much shredded muscle they felt heavy. Looking down at them, he couldn’t even see his abs. Sean cupped them in his hands and smiled widely as he bounced them up and down. The transformation spread to his right arm. This time beginning with the traps and delts and working its way down. He watched with rapt attention as veins sprouted upward, snaking their way down to his now thick, more masculine hands. And all along the orgasmic feeling did not abate. It only grew. He was more euphoric the more he grew, with every new inch added, every new vein, each new striation. He flexed his upper body, wishing there was a mirror in front of him so he could see the change that he felt in his abs. He ran his hands over them, counting the ridges. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. Eight! He never had an eight pack before. And the lines between them were so deeply cut you could lose a coin in them. He continued to rub his hands over his cobblestone stomach, feeling the paper-thin skin slide over the stone-like muscle as the transformation worked itself down to his quads. Each thickened in unison. Between them he could feel his third leg thickening as well, stretching longer and longer. Behind him, his glutes popped out, hard lumps of muscle. His calves jutted back, larger than he ever imagined they could grow. He now stood on tree trunk thick legs that straddled a horse cock, that would make any porn star jealous. Sean looked like he was ready for the Olympia stage, his whole body swollen with perfectly proportioned, shredded mounds of veiny muscle. He had the body of his dreams. When the transformation was complete, he stood admiring himself briefly. He wanted to whip out his throbbing erection and masturbate right there in the crater. But no. He would save that for Ali. Oh, Ali. His Turkish friend might just blow a load upon laying his eyes on him. As he ran back to the campsite, he felt his shoes fall apart. He had been so enamored by the muscle, and filled with euphoria, he hadn’t felt the discomfort in his feet as they expanded against is shoes. His pants, too, began to fail, ripping at the seams as he bent his legs, but they managed to stay on, albeit in tatters. 260 pounds (if he had to guess) of shirtless, muscle hunk came barreling through the woods in the direction his sleeping friend. “Wait until Ali sees me now. He wished I was bigger and I am.” Sean thought about Ali’s cut little ass and what his new monster muscle cock would do to it. The forest around him blended to a blur as Sean whizzed past tree trunks and shrubs. Branches snapped against his new hard muscles, but he barely felt them. His mind was solely on getting to his friend. What would Ali say? What would he do? How does one react in the face of a miracle? The tent was coming into view now. A light moved around. Ali was up, holding a lantern at arm’s length. “Sean!” Ali called, and Sean stepped from the shadows into the lantern’s glow, his chest, heaving, dripping with sweat. * Ali Demir turned when he heard the sound of leaves and twigs cracking. He raised the lantern to see a half-naked bodybuilder in tattered pants stepping towards him. He stumbled back, taken by jolt of fear. “Who…” he began. Then “Where is…” It was as if he lost all the English he learned. The words just evaporated on his tongue. The hulking figure before him was the perfect man. He couldn’t speak. He could only stare at the physical perfection and though he had been startled, he couldn’t run. When his eyes caught sight of the lean glistening muscle he was frozen by a feeling of pure attraction. He could feel an aura of sexiness in the air flowing off this muscle god and taking a deep hold of him. Who was he? Why was he here? “Ali.” He speaks. The living dream speaks! And it knows my name! “It’s me. Sean.” The man smiled, motioned to his chest with his hands, and moved one step closer. The muscle fibers in his arms chest and shoulders danced with every movement. Ali stared, incredulous. This man was twice Sean’s size, a god fallen from Olympus. His voice was deeper, his jaw squarer. But the eyes… yes, the eyes, and the nose. Even the hair style. They all screamed Sean. The tatters, too, dangling about the behemoth’s thick legs looked like the remains of Sean’s pants, as well. Ali shook his head. “I can’t believe it. How?” Sean told him about the crater, the meteor, the strange ooze and the orgasmic growth. As he listening to Sean’s story, he built up the courage to approach him. He stood inches away from his massive friend, who only seemed to have grown in muscle, not height. Sean stopped speaking as Ali looked him in the eyes and began to feel his new muscles. Ali had never encountered a body like it. His eyes turned downward drinking in every inch of Sean’s body as his hands ran over the bulges, veins, and striations, muscles hard as stones, skin as thin as paper. He gave special attention to the pecs, his favorite part. Ali could see Sean’s massive erection pushing upward, the bulbous head peeking out over the waist band of those tattered pants. Its body was thick and veiny, pulsing, and from its tip hung a long stream of thick pre-cum. Ali licked his lips. As his hands made a second pass over Sean’s chest, his friend gripped them in his larger, stronger hands and held them. Their eyes met and Sean leaned in, tilting his head. Ali mirrored the motion, locking lips with his friend in a passionate, exhilarating, long awaited kiss. Sean let go of Ali’s hands and grabbed on to his waist. Ali reached his own hands around Sean’s massive frame and held on to his thick back. I could stay like this for ever, Ali thought. They took a respite from the kiss and Ali said, “So, this really is a place where dreams come true.” “It really is,” Sean said. They kissed again. * It’s happening! It’s happening! Sean could barely contain his excitement as his lips locked with Ali’s and their tongues frolicked. His cock was painfully erect. Ali’s smaller (but no less hard} erection was pressing into his crotch. He couldn’t tell if the wet spot on his friend's pajama bottoms was from his own pre-cum or Ali’s or both, but he could feel it growing, spreading like the heat of their passion into the crisp night air. The stars above, the lantern glow, the muscles, the kiss, his friend so turned on…It was perfect. It was better than his fantasy, better than his wish. “I want to make love to you. All of you,” Ali whispered into his ear. “I want you to.” * Ali stripped naked as Sean ripped his tattered pants off, fully exposing his bulging glutes, mammoth thighs, and unbelievable cock. He led the muscle god by the hand, into the tent, their erections bobbing eagerly with each step. Ali carried the lantern with them. These acts had to be done in the light. He had to see the muscles as he worked them. He had to see Sean’s expression as he rocked his world. Ali asked Sean to lie on his back then climbed on top of the mountain of muscle. Sean’s nipples were erect, looking like two baby pacifiers. Ali squeezed and twisted them gently, teasing his friend. He fell forward, mouth slightly parted and kissed him, feeling those huge, hard pecs below him. Ali grinded on top of all that muscle pushing his body into Sean’s, letting there throbbing, hard cocks touch. * It was all he had wanted for so long. Now it was happening. He was making love with Ali, cute, sexy, Ali! The Turk pulled away from his mouth and stared at him briefly before kissing his way down his neck to his chest. Ali’s hands ran over his shoulders and biceps as he did so, caressing, squeezing, admiring. Sean flexed them causing Ali to smile. There was heat emanating from him, between them. Sweat was beading on his body and Ali lapped it up with his tongue, dragging it sensuously over the ridges and striation of his physique. His friend was a thirsty animal and he had what it took to quench that thirst. * Ali was happy to hear Sean’s moans of pleasure as he teased him with his tongue, taking in his salty sweat. He took a nipple in his mouth and sucked, then bit it gently. He moved from one to the other. Ali’s legs were spread, splayed out with Sean’s cock rising high between them. The massive member bounced, slapping Ali in the ass, as Sean was in midst of ecstasy, having his body worshipped. Ali felt, squeezed, licked, kissed every bulging muscle on Sean in turn, even rolling him over at one point to give his back side love too. Below them the floor of the tent was wet with precum. * It was too much. The foreplay. Sean couldn’t take it anymore. His balls churned. His cock throbbed. It yearned for release. But Ali wasn’t finished yet. He felt jolts of pleasure as Ali ran his tongue up his shaft, tickling his bulbous head with the tip of it, then taking the hole thing into his mouth. “I want to cum in the hot ass of yours,” Sean said. The first thing he had said other than an exclamation of pleasure since they had begun. Ali pulled away, a thin trail of saliva stretching from Sean’s cock to his mouth. The whole shaft was glistening with his saliva in the lantern light. Sean rose to his knees and turned Ali around with his strong hands. The Turk lean forward, glancing back with a coy smile that said, “I’m ready.” Sean playfully spanked him and cupped Ali’s firm ass in his hands, squeezed it like pieces of fruit he was checking for ripeness. Then he parted the cheeks, spit on the hole and stuck two thick fingers in, priming it for a fucking. Ali moaned loudly as Sean fingered him deep. Then he removed his fingers and places his throbbing cock into position, entering his friend’s hungry asshole. With rhythmic thrusts that shook Ali’s body, he began to pound, grunting. Ali’s long black curls, glistening with sweat dangled beside his head swinging back and forth in time with the thrusts. Their moans of pleasure rose up into the night, intermingling with the sounds of the forest, overpowering them until it seemed there was nothing outside of that tent. There was only them in that moment, in the whole wide world. * Ali’s hole was stretched as far as it could go. He was on the razors edge between pleasure and pain. Tears of joy welled up in his eyes. His hands dug like claws into the floor of the tent, nearly ripping through it. His whole body quaked. He could feel the force of Sean’s ejaculation when it happened. The warm cum filled him. But there was something else…Another feeling. * Sean’s eyes were closed briefly as he was transported to another world called ‘Pure Ecstasy’, but he opened them when he felt a strange sensation on his cock. It was being squeezed. With Awe he watched as Ali’s cute ass grew and bulged with muscle, at first hardly believing it. Why was Ali changing? He hadn’t been near the meteor. Sean pulled out, and saw, not white, but black dripping from his cock and from his friend’s ass. At first, he was frightened, then he remembered the strange ooze that latched on to him from the meteor. He recognized it here, now, a shining black ichor making its way into his friend. Then the growth continued. * Ali felt the best feeling he had ever felt moving through his body and watched as his legs bulged with muscle, one at a time. Then his abs bulged, then his chest and shoulders. The growth moved up his body, with his Arms the last to grow. He looked down at his new physique in shock. It was the body of his dreams. He was slightly smaller than Sean but looked every bit like a competition ready bodybuilder. The two friends stared at each other. Sean’s hand reached out for Ali and felt him as if to make sure it was real. “What was in me…I shared it with you,” Sean said, wide eyed. “I guess both of our wishes came true,” Ali said, looking down at himself and flexing. Veins popped and striations rippled. “You tired?” Sean asked. “No.” “Wanna go again?” Ali smiled so widely, his face might have split. “Yes, but this time you worship me.” He did a double bicep pose. * Sean pounced, locking lips, their hard bodies becoming intertwined. “I’m glad I suggested we go camping,” he said. “I’m glad I said yes,” Ali replied. They didn’t sleep for the rest of that night.

Thanks to Dredlifter for the idea suggestion of this little thing - or maybe it will wind up being a big thing. I haven’t written a story like this in a long time - at least 4 years. I hope you will bear with me for a slow burn introduction here and getting my “verbal” chops back into shape. But the fun stuff will start coming next chapter. I am open to any and all feedback as I want to re-hone my writing abilities. Critiques are welcome -------- To Protect and Serve - Chapter 1 - The First Morning Prelude: Just imagine - You’re standing at attention with your peers in your best Class-A Uniform. All around you in the auditorium your friends, family, and fellow officers who can come are here to see the solemn occasion. A freshly earned, freshly shined badge has just been pinned on your chest by the Sheriff. You raise your right hand and take the oath. The oath is a bit different from jurisdiction to jurisdiction, but we boil its meaning down to one phrase - “To Protect and Serve.” So many have taken the oath. Some who took it did little things that made a big difference, while some risked their lives and paid the ultimate price. And some … well … some are special. This is the story of one of those special ones - no, he is even more than that. Though it was not his intention nor mine, he went beyond special. How do I know? He saved me. He has given me a life I could never have dreamed possible that first early morning. And what happened to him? Well, a transformation that is better in the telling. To those who take the oath as seriously as he did; To those who give it a new and bigger meaning as he did; to those who change more than they can imagine by repeating those words as he did, this story is dedicated. This is the story of what could happen if you could protect and serve many thousands of people, and just one man, me, in ways beyond your wildest imagination. ~ Gabriel York ----- A deceptively small man hung his duty shirt onto a dry cleaners hanger and placed it in his locker. As he stood bare chested in the cool air, he appeared to be hiding his body, but he had nothing to be ashamed of - having a lithe but very tight build under that shirt. Nicely shaped, mounded pecs accompanied hard small orange sized biceps. A tight 6-pack graced his lower abdomen to an impossibly small looking waist. He was way better than most men of his age, no “dad bod” here to be sure. But, the man always felt self-conscious in the locker room despite the room being empty. He wasn’t one of THEM, something that had haunted him since high school. He lifted one booted foot and then the other onto a wooden bench before him. Loosening the laces and pulling the side zipper, he removed each boot. He held them in his hands like precious artifacts for just a moment, remembering the first time he put these on. Soon it would be his last, he mused. His time could go on as long as he wanted. But -- he questioned why. What had he done to stay on? What good had he really done? REALLY made a difference? It took but a few more minutes for him to put on his civilian duty clothes (a departmental polo, slacks,and loafers), secure his badge to his belt, and close his locker. Most locker rooms were replete with all sorts of combination locks, but not here. A few men and most of the women officers used them, but it wasn’t exactly necessary. You couldn’t be in a much safer place after all. Deputy Sergeant John Declann closed his locker for the millionth time and went to collect his personal sidearm from the gun locker clerk. He had no sooner than entered the hallway from the locker room, he heard a truly tremendous booming upper bass voice: “WHOA, ONE SIDE DECLANN.” Declann immediately pulled back into the doorway and looked up … and up, to see 5 men in a tight formation with shields and cell-entry equipment. Each one of them was every bit of 6 foot 4 inches plus - although tactical boots always made you look taller than you were. They were more like 6 foot 2 without them - but still, they all out-weighed John by at least 60 pounds of muscle. At his 5 foot 7 inches in height and in normal shoes, he felt positively TINY seeing them pass by. That was sort of the point of those uniforms - to try and intimidate anyone who saw what was coming - and it always did, at least it did Declann. They were in helmets and wore thick padded vests, under which were black t-shirt with black BDUs and those boots below. While those clothes were technically “loose,” they did little to hide every oversized muscle in their massive bodies. Gigantic arms stretched forth from sleeves that seemed to be straining to the breaking point. 2 pairs of arms were thick, powerlifter looking, and 3 more were supremely cut muscle. The CERT - Cell Extraction and Response Team - blew past him looking like they were heading to Mary-pod - the maximum security section. No doubt it was to remove an offender from a cell for morning counts who did not want to be removed. There was no question, he WOULD be removed, no matter what it took. The injury inflicted was entirely the offender’s choice. And, that amount of muscle and its overwhelming power could do plenty of that. Declann had tried out for both the CERT and SWAT teams years ago. But at his 165 lb, it was deemed he just did not have the physical size necessary. “You have all the skills needed and more Deputy Declann,” he had been told. “You should be proud of that. But some other officers just beat you out in the scores. And we need you on the streets. That is where you belong.” Funny, he thought in a moment of jealousy. It was always those guys who were of larger than life proportions that got the spots, even if their skills were not as good as his. After the group had passed, Declann walked down the hall toward the sallyport and stopped. He always did it at times like this, halting at the Officer’s Gym. He looked inside. It was rather quiet, normal at 0545 and shift change. Still, he could see some of the remnants of workouts by the big guys on the force. 45 pound plates left on the sides of incline bench press rack. What looked like 5 plates on a side on the bar on the squat rack. Dozens on the leg press sled. It was a bit of a mess, in truth, but most well used gyms were. Now, Declann was no physical slouch. He always kept in shape and his skills honed as the primary martial arts instructor for the Sheriff’s Office. He could have done well in that room, even though he was pushing 40 years old. Could have grown. But, he sighed and went on. There was just a part of him that never wanted to face big men in the gym. The injustice of being mocked for his smaller size and unfamiliarity with the equipment the one time he went in blazed in him still all these years later. He guessed the big men thought it was good natured fun, but it hurt Declann deeply. So, he kept to his body weight fitness room and small dojo set up in the garage at home. That made him feel less conspicuous. When it came to them, John always saw himself as a small man in boots that were a size too big. And yet - to so many others, he wasn’t that at all. He was everything that made police work an honorable profession. --- John Declann had wanted to be a police officer for as long as he could remember. Since his youngest days, he had been fascinated by police dramas on TV, how they always seemed to catch the bad guy no matter the odds. How they always saved people in distress. In his mind, there was no better calling. No better way to spend his life. He had the mind to be anything he wanted. He excelled in most subjects in school and was a top flight musician. But, those pursuits were not where he heart lay. He was a cop at heart by his teenage years, and he did everything he could to prepare himself. He took JROTC through high school, where he picked up his interest in martial arts and started Aikido lessons. Though he wasn’t the best team sports, he blasted through the competition at his dojo. He became quite fit from the military style calisthenics workouts he adopted during ROTC summer camps. And, that fitness matched perfectly with his blooming skills with his hands and feet on the mats. Before high school was over, his featured had matured into those of a very fit, handsome young man with striking brown eyes. And he had his first degree black belt, the first degree of many. It took a nearly a year after graduating high school to get his first small town commission to the force. He spent his first 18 months in the jails, and then took and passed his Colorado POST exams. He had been a road officer ever since. Now, he was a Sergeant in the Boulder County Sheriff’s Office - an area not unknown for large scale crimes as it held the University of Colorado. “The Berkeley of the East” though had its full measure of minor offenses. But the area wasn’t exactly the worst gang spots in Denver either. He had for served with true distinction for nearly two decades since - being decorated for bravery multiple times for saving civilians lives under fire. He had saved those intent on suicide. He had even delivered a baby once in a convenience store, and the story made the local news. He had had plenty of hands-on run ins with offenders, but he gave way more than he got, never having much more than a bruise or a black eye on occasion. He just never saw what the community and his immediate superiors did - a good man, serving the people Boulder and the kids of the University the best way he knew how. --- John went out to his car - an unmarked Dodge - cranked it, and began the slow crawl toward the Turnpike then Wheat Ridge. One of the things he learned in his own initial officer training long ago was to never live in the county you worked in. It could always lead to problems with local offenders. So, it was up and over the Flatirons toward home. Even though traffic volume was already increasing as it spread toward Denver in the morning rush, his mind wandered as if on empty roads. He made the necessary turns though the city and came proximate to the University entrances, but was running his schedule through his mind. He was due for a weigh in at the doc’s today. And they usually took his measurements too. Height, waistline, all that stu -- John’s senses caught something in the barely lit dawn. Someone moving way too fast to be normally jogging to the right of his car. Moving toward campus. John slowed his vehicle and his brain went into observation mode. It captured the scene in moments with his practiced eyes and mind. A young man -- looking to be just outside of college age but could still belong to the University. Short, black hair. Trimmed beard. White button down shirt and navy slacks. Looked like there was some money invested in those clothes, certainly not cheap. Behind him, perhaps eight or so paces, was running - and running faster than the first - a white young man, shaved head, jeans and ratty t-shirt, tatted with jailhouse tattoos that stood out even under the fading street lamps. And, then John caught sight of a gun in the rear waistband of the second’s jeans. Semi-auto by the outline. Instinct took over. John turned his car in an instant, hit the flasher toggle for his lights, and wound with wildly fast, yet practiced precision toward the danger. Less than 20 seconds later, John pulled his car to a stop where his instincts said he could cut this off. “Boulder County Sheriff's Office -- ON THE GROUND NOW” John yelled as he leapt from his car and drew his weapon virtually simultaneously. The running suspect didn’t listen, just as John had expected. He instead broke his pursuit of the well-dressed man and taken off toward a side alleyway. But, John was good at his work. The offender was fast, but John - was FASTER. He holstered his weapon as he calculated his movements nearly autonomously. He had chosen his intercept point well. John calculated the takedown, knowing an almost undisputable, universal law - 95 percent of offenders have no idea of how to fight, and the remaining 5% seldom need to fight. And this one looked like the former. It took a few seconds, but just a few, for the whole pursuit to be over. Exactly two PPCT strikes and a normal compliance take down and the suspect wa on his back, with John twisting his arms and putting the handcuffs on. He never even had to hurt more than the punk’s pride. Once secured, John kept his knee in place just under the lower shoulder blades, cuffed arms resting on his quad, knowing a bodyweight advantage and leverage would be critical with this man who slightly outweighed him. “What’s your name?” John demanded as he patted down the suspect and quickly removed a 9mm weapon and several baggies of what looked like methamphetamine. “Fuck you” was the response. John smiled a bit and gave a half chuckle under his breath. He loved this a bit too much when it happened, and some mischievous streak in him just drove him to do it. “OK, Mister Fuk Yu. I am placing you under arrest for possession of an illegal firearm and possession of controlled substances. You have the right to remain silent …” John mirandized the “Mr. Fuck,” pulled him up to his feet, and maneuvered him the few yards to his car. He put the offender in the back seat and locked the door of his unmarked. The guy was going nowhere. Now, to more important matters. John made his way toward the young man being pursued - who had by now stopped and was almost collapsed on the sidewalk. Declann withdrew his cell, called 911, and requested uniformed officers to his location. He was upon the man on the sidewalk just as he hung up. John immediately knelt down to do a quick assessment of his condition. There were no obvious signs of trauma at the first once over. He then took a more careful look at the victim’s features. While he certainly wasn’t of student age, he was still under 30, John guessed. And, he was a very nice looking under 30 to boot. Blue eyes setting off dark, intense features. Old enough to just have the barest hint of a wrinkle at the eye but nothing else. John noted a rather slim body - the size of his own would have been were it not for his training in Aikido and Krav Maga. John felt a twinge of attraction.Yes, John was bisexual, but no one cared among his superiors anymore. Besides, he had always kept that part of himself separate when on duty. “You OK Sir? I can’t see any obvious injuries. Do you need an ambulance?”John asked as he came and sat down at the man’s level. “Thank you . . . . officer, thank . . . you.” The man panted in reply with a pronounced British accent. “I was . . . just going toward my . . . lab . . . after my tea . . . when this fellow . . . started chasing me screaming at . . me. ” The young man was now gathering his breath, becoming easier to understand. John was a bit surprised to hear that English accent coming from him. Not unheard of, but still unusual in Boulder. “Did he assault you in any way?” The Englishman finally looked up to see John’s slightly older but obviously concerned and kind face. He visibly relaxed as he looked into John’s light brown eyes. “No, he never caught me but he was close. I am not exactly in running shorts and shoes here. But thanks to you, I’ll be OK. I do not know what would have happened if you had not arrived when you did.” “With what I found, I suspect he wanted to mug you. You are rather well dressed for campus, if I may observe. And, forgive me, if he heard you accent, you may have looked like an quick target as a tourist. When the uniform officers get here, you will need to give a statement to them, or you can give it to me if you prefer. We need to make sure this scumbag gets what he deserves.” “Of course. Anything I can do to assist, although I would be much happier speaking to you.” the man said giving just a hint of a smile. It was then that the uniformed officers in their black and white vehicles showed up. John excused himself for a moment, let the uniforms know what was going on, and allowed them to take the offender back to the jail for booking. John then returned to the man still sitting on the sidewalk. Pulling out a notebook he kept on him for times like this, John got all the pertinent information as he had done thousands of times before. Name, description of what happened, when, and why, if he knew. Any details the young man, who he had come to know as Gabriel York, may have remembered before, during, and after. As he took the statement, John became even more convinced this was an attempted mugging, perhaps for more drug money, maybe even more if that weapon came into play. Knowing he had all he needed, John said, “Finally, is there a way we can contact you if we have further questions. The staff from the District Attorney's office will be sure to want to speak with you about testimony if it comes to that. Although with the evidence we have, this one will probably plea. This is not his first time in jail.” Gabriel reached into his pocket for a very expensive-looking leather wallet and removed a business card. “This is my lab contact information. I am easiest to reach either here on campus or with my secretary. My other lab is ...a… well ... it is easier to reach me here. Again I can’t thank you enough, Sergeant.” “Believe me, Dr. York, it was my pleasure. I am just glad you are safe and sound.” John said. “Are you OK to go on your own or would you like me to escort you to your lab? I would be happy to do so.” “Thank you sir, but I think I’ll be fine. My lab is just over the hill in the Biological Sciences building.” Gabriel replied. “OK” John said, handing Gabriel a card of his own with his name, rank, and contact information on it. “This is my card. If you need anything or remember anything else, please do not hesitate to call me anytime, day or night.” ‘Of course. Sergeant Declann.” The Englishman arose with a friendly hand from John. Almost as an afterthought as he was leaving, York turned around. “Oh, Sergeant Declann, by the way. I do ….ah… certain work down at the Federal Center in Denver. I will have to report this incident to my superiors there and to the British consulate. In case there is testimony or something as you said. They may wish to speak with you. Just to make sure. You understand?” John nodded. Ah, he works with the feds as an international scholar of some kind, and the red tape must be dealt with. “Of course. No problem at all. I’m proximate to the Federal Center half the time anyway.” York nodded an ascent and turned again to walk away. John stood a moment watching - and admiring - Dr. York move until he was sure he was alright AND that he was moving toward the Biology building. He turned around and began to make his way back to his car. As he did, he looked down at the card: Gabriel York, MD. PhD., FACS Research Director/Professor of Medicine Advanced Bio-neurological Applications Project University of Colorado School of Medicine Hmmm, John thought. He looked a damned sight young to be in such a prestigious job, a full professor under 30 and with two doctorates at least. And a fellow of the ACS -- so why talk to the Consulate? John’s “detective sensor” started to sound off in his mind. This advanced applications thing wasn’t a program he was familiar with, but there were so many new research projects on campus these days. But, as soon as the “alert” came, he let it go. Probably a government grant given what he said about the Federal Center. John was reviewing the incident in his mind for his own after action report as he pulled onto the highway. Suddenly, there was a loud roar of a horn and air brakes. John never even saw the tractor trailer that plowed into his car, crumpling it in an instant like so much tissue paper and driving it 30 yards down the highway. *** Two Hours Later *** Trauma room one at the University of Colorado Hospital was abuzz with activity. At least a dozen doctors, nurses, and specialist technologists in yellow plastic smocks and shields hovered over a trauma bed doing a myriad of tasks to the man laying there. “What do we have?” the lead trauma surgeon said as he came into the room and took up control of the life-saving operation. On of the smocked figures raised up and stepped back, raising his shield. “John Declann, caucasian male, age 39. Boulder County Sheriff’s Deputy. MVA - car versus tractor/trailer. Passenger was in a seatbelt with airbags deployed but required extraction by fire-rescue. Initial assessment shows superficial cranial abrasions, with most likely a simple concussion. No evidence of other cranial, brain, or upper spinal injuries. Seat belt bruising pattern is highly indicative of internal organ disruption, but nothing so far on physical examination and plain films of the abdomen. Lacerated and collapsed left lung, reinflated with chest tube. Pneumothorax proximate to same lung injury also responding. Initial x-rays show compromised T-12 vertebral body and possible pelvic fracture. No apparent lower limb trauma beyond cuts and bruises from extrication from the vehicle. CT scans are coming up now for the spinal and pelvic injury areas. This was a driver’s side T-bone crash. I think that this guy’s level of fitness is why we’re talking about saving his life and not pronouncing him. ” the lead resident efficiently rattled off. The lead surgeon took a look at the patient, and agreed with the resident’s assessment. John was alive because of his trained, flexible, body and more than a little random chance. But what kind of life was it going to be? The doctor walked over to the computer terminal screens and pulled up the CT scans. The pelvis showed a simple left side Ilium fracture. Non-displaced. Something the orthopods could deal with easy enough. He then flipped to the scan of John’s spine -- and frowned. “Fuck,” he said under his breath as he looked. He sat down on a stool and zoomed, in, out, rotated, and closely examined the different views provided by the technology. The burst fracture was unmistakable and at precisely the worst spot for leg function. As he walked back to John, the doctor barked orders to the residents and nurses, while he removed an ink pen from his pocket. He ran the pen up first one foot and then the other. Goddamnit, he thought. The veteran doc’s heart sunk even more. “Get neurosurg here stat. Tell them severe impact, burst fracture at T-12, CT visualization and reflex response indicative of cord injury.” The room went silent for a moment before carrying on. It was always hard to treat an officer. Much less for this. The supervising physician turned and again just looked at the radiology. The soft tissue injuries were no walk in the park, but were easily fixable, recoverable in just a few weeks, the pelvis in a couple of months, except …. that. There was no hope for that, in his experience. This man would be paralyzed. Five minutes later the head of neurosurgery looked at the same CT scans, and came to the same conclusion. No hope. They could do an exploratory, check and see if by some miracle there was just pressure on the cord from a fragment, but not likely. Better to just do a vertebral stabilization with the orthopods, but his chances to recover function … Declann had been stabilized and was ready for transfer to have his lung laceration repaired. As he was about to be moved, another man in a white coat burst into the trauma room. One look from him toward John, and his eyes moistened. “I...I...can’t believe it.” the black haired man wept at the side of the bed. “I had to be sure.” The man almost looked skyward, “Why him?” Gabriel tenderly wiped a finger down John’s cheek. “Gabriel?” the head of neuro looked up. “What are you doing here? Do you know this man?” “This man, he saved my life this morning, not even four hours ago. Kept me from getting mugged by this man with a gun. Everyone heard the crash and when I saw that the wreckage was his car. Is he going to be OK?” Gabriel was out of breath and had obviously lost clinical detachment between the events of this morning and the shock of seeing the officer who had been so kind and patient with him lying there. He would have been removed if treatment were still going on, but it was basically complete save moving him to OR. The two attendings just nodded toward the computer screens with the radiology still on it. Gabriel walked from John’s head side, looked, and was overcome with remorse and guilt. Had he just been at his normal time, 15 minutes later, none of this would have happened. But, he just HAD to check on a minor experiment. And now, this man lay here because of him. Gabriel zoomed in to the machine’s maximum sensitivity. He looked again and again. Through a choking voice, Gabriel looked around and almost whispered. “Jack, can you send me these scans please? To my secondary lab.” The lead neurosurgeon looked horrified, searching for a reason not to. “Gabriel. You can’t be serious. You know I can’t do that. It violates protocol, federal law--” Gabriel cut him off, almost angrily “Jack you know I can take care of that with one call to Washington.” “What are you going to do?” Jack asked, never having seen such anger in the young, brilliant surgeon and scientist. “IF I can, if there is anything I can do, I am going to try and help this man.’ “You can’t have a man as a lab r--. I can’t sanc---” Jack stumbled. Gabriel stood to his full height, taking on an almost military bearing. “You know I can and will go over your head if I have to. I will have him removed if I must.” Gabriel took a breath and seemed to calm a bit. “Jack I am not promising that I can or will do anything, I do not know if there is anything to do. But I have to try. I owe it to him. He is here because of me. I have to try or I’ll never forgive myself.” Jack knew Gabriel could follow through on his threats in an instant. He had seen some small manifestations of Gabriel’s connections to political power before, and he knew that interference in hospital functions was the very least of what he could do. As much as Jack detested it, with this kind of anger Gabriel could bring down the mountain on top of his whole hospital. But, as it was, there was nothing anyone could do for Officer Declann, not even York. Jack just silently waved his fingers in a gesture of defeat, nodded an ascent, and transferred access to Gabriel as primary attending physician. “Thank you Jack. I owe you about 10 times over for this.” “I WILL HOLD YOU TO THAT,” the older surgeon replied, his voice suddenly sharpened. “And I insist on one thing. Before you present him any of those things you do that I do not have a clue about, you will at least get his consent.” Gabriel looked like he had been shot himself and his voice shook, “I would NEVER do anything to harm him.” York turned on a heel and left the room, walking out of the ER doors, and toward his car in the parking lot. As soon as he was in the vehicle with the door closed, he pulled from his pocket an encrypted cell phone with just one number it could access, locked to his fingerprint. A male voice answered in military precision, “Yes, Doctor York?” “Codeword Ariana. I want the full computer network prepped for simulator study based on some CT scans that will be coming from CU Trauma ER shortly. Run the program with emergent parameters and stand by to report when I get there. Not a proof of concept level scan, Don, but full cellular level calculations. I am leaving the hospital now. We have 24 hours at the most to complete simulations. And...ah.. Don. This is important to me, personally.” “Yes SIR,” the sharp voice on the other end said. Gabriel could not quite understand what he was feeling, this pull toward this man. He didn’t know the man existed six hours ago. Sure, there was guilt and anger and sadness. But, he just could not remove from his mind those eyes he saw this morning. Those haunted, caring brown eyes. Something about him. This John Declann. He did not know what. But he saw it in his eyes. He deserved more than this, and Gabriel would find out why. He would make it happen, he willed it to happen as he drove toward the freeway. This good man would walk again.

“Keegan . . . Keegan! I can’t breathe, man. Hey, Keegan!” I could tell he was falling asleep – the rhythm of his breathing was turning even and deep. I knew I needed to have him roll off of me or I’d be trapped for the entire night. Using a good amount of strength, I pulled my hand up between our bodies and found a big hairy nipple to twist, with as much power as my fingers could muster while smashed between us. This snapped the big guy out of his almost-sleep state, causing him to make a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a whine. “Mmmm-hmmmm, my baby’s ready for round two . . . wait, no, round three.” “As wonderful as that sounds, no – it’s just that you’re starting to fall asleep and I can’t breathe . . . or feel my legs.” “Oh . . . sorry, hon, I’m just too big.” The understatement of the year. The cold, winter’s night air briefly sent a shock to my body as he rolled off of me and exposed me to the elements. I immediately wanted to be smothered by his warmth and weight, again, even if it restricted my breathing and prevented me from being able to get up until he did. “I gotta pee, anyway,” Keegan said, sliding out of the much too small bed and waddling out the door and down the hall. I knew his wide shoulders made the narrow passageway leading to the rest of my tiny apartment look even smaller and very claustrophobic. I had watched him make that walk thousands of times – amazed that he wouldn’t have been able to fully extend his arms out sideways unless he accidently punched through drywall, which was always a fear of mine . . . or was it a fantasy. My small place was suddenly filled with what could only be called the sound of a waterfall. Not the trickling sounds of a small stream – more like the deafening pounding of Niagara Falls. Even the guy urinating sounded butch and powerful. And it seemed to last forever. Just when you thought it was ending – at that moment when most guys would be wagging off a few more drops, there’d come another loud steady stream that somehow told you it was a virile hugely muscled man crammed in the tiny bathroom. After what seemed like the same amount of time for a semi-long movie, I’d hear the floorboards complaining about having to support so much weight and then I’d be surrounded, again, with the kind of body warmth that helped me save on my energy bills because I never had to turn on the heat. This time, only a huge arm would be draped over me, but it would still feel like a giant, heavy, folded quilt on my body. “I really could go again,” came the deep sexy familiar voice, that caused the back of my neck to be caressed by his breath as we spooned. “I’m not you, remember? Not all of us can rebound quicker than all of the NBA put together. I also have the early shift tomorrow.” “You work too much.” “Tell that to my creditors,” I replied, pulling his beefy forearm around me tighter, which caused him to squeeze my body hard. “I had fun tonight. Thanks for coming out with me.” “Yeah, it was fun . . . but I’m not sure your friends like me.” “Not this again. Of course, they like you . . . it’s just that they’re still getting to know you. It’s only been a few months. “It’s just that you guys always talk about stuff I know nothing about.” “Well, we have a long history together, so there’s a lot of shared information.” “Yeah, like that friend all of you talked about – the one I don’t know – her name was Marianne something.” “You mean Marianne Williamson?” “Yeah.” “Um . . . she’s not a friend . . . so to speak. She’s running for president.” “You have a friend running for president?” “No, not a friend. She’s just famous and Kyle is like her personal cheerleader or something.” “See, that’s something I should know . . . to be able to join in the conversation. I think your friends find me boring and stupid.” I tried to turn my body to face him, but the weight of his big arm prevented it. I tapped it twice – our little signal for him to release whatever part of his body was making movement impossible. He raised his arms so I could spin around and then it came back down, holding me closer. I looked into his innocent, but serious face. I slid my hand up between us and tapped on a gorgeous bulging mound beside his neck. “What’s the full name of this muscle right here?” “The trapezius muscle and it’s divided into three areas - the upper, middle, and lower fibers – called the upper, middle, and lower traps.” “And what specific exercise, pray tell, makes these things get so huge?” “Well, there’s a lot of debate about that…” “What’s your favorite, honey, cause it’s obviously working?” I said, smiling. “I like power shrugs and deadlifts.” “None of my friends would know any of that. Your expertise is not Marianne Williamson, it’s muscle.” “You just want me for my body,” he said, sticking out his bottom lip in a forced fake pout. “That’s a huge part of my attraction . . . and by huge, I mean…” “I get the point. Name something else besides my body that you find attractive.” I faked a pained look on my face – as if I couldn’t come up with anything else and the big man squeezed my body hard, making me squeal a little. I suddenly realized that there was some true vulnerability being shown here. My big sweetheart was feeling ‘less than’ and needed some support. I snuggled closer and turned my face up to his. “Tonight, there was a moment when the beer pitchers were almost empty and I could sense everyone looking at their phones, going to the bathroom, or cruising the joint – anything to keep from being the person that noticed we needed more beer. You, however, poured what remained evenly in everyone’s glass without any hesitation and then took the four pitchers to the bar to get refills. You didn’t think twice. You didn’t have this scorecard in your head that was keeping track of who had already done what and who hadn’t. You just saw that more beer was needed and knew how to improve the situation. Your kindness often overwhelms me with a knowledge of how lucky I am to be with you.” I had just answered his question honestly – truly believing he was one of the nicest guys on the planet. But my answer moved him in a way I had not expected. A tear slid from the corner of his eye and dropped to the pillow below. My heart opened even wider for this wonderful man. “Keegan, honey, you are definitely not stupid or boring. Who cares if you know who Marianne Williamson is or not. I love your body, yes, but that is not even close to all the things I love about you. What’s bringing this on?” I double tapped his arm to be released and sat up, crossing my legs to look down at him. I had my hand on his big biceps, stroking him softly. He turned his head to look up at me and another tear slid down the top part of his cheek. “This is usually the beginning of the end. I’ve reached this point in too many relationships to even count – room being made for my toothbrush, being introduced to friends, and even being sent out with the guy’s ATM card and code to get money for him before going to a club. It’s just that nothing’s ever lasted more than a few weeks after this point. The guy’s all end up telling me that the conversations are too limited, I spend too much time at the gym, or – as one guy put it – they don’t want to look like they’re out with a hustler every time we went to dinner. I worry that I don’t know how to make it beyond this point. I worry every day that you’ll get tired of me.” “Hey, Mister Muscles,” I lovingly said the nickname I had given him the first night we met, which, at least, made him briefly smile, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. You never bore me and as for stupidity – remember the first time you took me to a gym. What did I do? Come on, tell me.” “You thought you could bench what I bench.” “And what else?” “You went to pick up the dumbbells I was curling and threw your back out because you couldn’t even lift them a little.” “You had to carry me to the walk-in clinic down the street. If anyone’s making a fool of themselves in this relationship – it’s definitely me. Who’s to say that you won’t get bored with me soon, eh?” “That’ll never happen?” “And why not?” “Cause you give the best head I’ve ever had,” he said, turning slightly red and smiling. “Oh, so you like me only because of my mouth.” “Yes.” I took a pillow and swung it quickly into his face, leaving it there, so all I could see of him was his humongous arm, massive chest, and cobblestone abs. The view still bowled me over – even after all of these months. I heard him saying something under the pillow. I removed it. “And sex with you is better than chocolate cake,” he said, mentioning the only food that would ever tempt him from leaving his strict eating regime. “Now, you’re making ME sound like the hustler.” “You’d be a good one. I remember.” “Thank you . . . I think. What’s brought all of this on, Mister Muscles? Why the sudden fear of this fabulous thing between us not lasting? You’re not one for losing confidence.” “I was in the bathroom tonight, around the corner out of sight at the urinals, and I overheard Kyle and Demetrius talking.” “What did they say?” I asked, knowing already it was going to be something bitchy and unkind. “Kyle wondered how long you were going to continue to slum it with a Neanderthal and then he said he could see in my eyes that I had no idea who Marianne Williamson was.” “Fucking Marianne Williamson! When did she become the barometer for all things concerning relationships. First of all, Mister Muscles, Kyle has wanted me since junior high and doesn’t take quickly to any guy I date. Secondly, you intimidate the hell out of him because of your size and big muscles, and, thirdly, I’m going to kick his ass the next time I see him for saying all of this.” “God, you’re sexy when you defend my honor and talk that way.” “I’m serious, Keegan. He can’t treat you that way and I will tell him.” “Um, no you won’t. I don’t want there to be even more of a strain than there already is between your friends and me. I’ll just have to win them over with my princely charm.” As usual, the big man found a way to help me instantly release anger and tension. I looked down into his eyes and smiled. I lowered my face to give him a long, passionate kiss. I pulled back after a while and we looked at each other – silently. “So, we good. All this is good, now?” I asked, showing him how important it was to me. “Better than good,” he said and then lifted the quilt and sheet to reveal a fully hard ‘Tennessee’ – the nickname I had given his dick because I said it was as long and big as that entire southern state. “Show me again why I like you so much.” My mouth watered a little as ‘Tennessee’ was uncovered even more and two extremely muscled thighs begged to be the support for my small hands as I did what I was truly good at – servicing my big man. ********** “Five hundred dollars.” “Nope.” “Okay. A thousand, but that’s my final offer.” “It’s still no. I have a boyfriend…” “So?” “…and we’re in a monogamous relationship.” “But there’s enough of you to keep four guys happy!” “And I’m only interested in keeping one man happy.” “Then why be a personal trainer? These days, isn’t that just a code word for ‘hustler’?” “Um . . . no, I truly enjoy helping other people get into shape. By the way, are you going to come on to me every time we work out. I might need to start charging you more if I’m going to have to continue fighting off all your advances.” I grabbed the man’s hand, which was suddenly placed on my thigh, and squeezed a little too tightly before pushing it away. He let out a slight yelp and shook out his arm wildly. This was my fifth session with Mr. Groping Hands (names withdrawn to protect the guilty) and he was, again, in rare form. Saying the word ‘boyfriend’ had taken me back to earlier that morning when Chef Marco (okay, chef in training) had literally blown me away – no pun intended – with his unbelievable oral skills. I had never met such a talented mouth. The sensation of what his tongue, throat, lips, and teeth could do was still making my groin area buzz with excitement. Mr. Groping Hands clearly thought my bulging crotch was in response to his non-inspiring advances. This guy was definitely a ‘catch’ – rich, well-built, nicely endowed, and smooth in the way expensive liquor went down, but he wasn’t my Marco. He wasn’t the beautiful man that was able to suck my balls in some miraculous way that could make me not able to prevent myself from exploding in less than a minute. I swear, Marco’s mouth should be listed as one of the . . . what was it . . . five wonders of the world? Six wonders of the world? Neither of those sounded right. “How many wonders of the world are there?” I asked, as I carefully led the man through some sit-ups. “You mean besides you, Keegan.” “Yes, not including me,” I answered, signaling him to take a short rest. “Most scholars say there were seven wonders of the ancient world.” “Seven. I was close,” I said, tapping his stomach to begin again. “How about just letting me blow you in my car, Keegan? I can tell your cock is interested – it keeps bobbing up and down when you touch me.” We were out in the open area of Palisades Park – a hot spot for trainers who didn’t want to see clients in their homes or at the gym. Mr. Groping Hands was a pretty famous director and preferred the anonymity that came with green grass, lots of trees, and a gaze-stealing view of the Pacific Ocean to prevent gawkers. I appreciated his boldness – it was kind of refreshing after all the guys (and gals) that did head games to try and get me into bed. I looked over at his Bentley Flying Spur and then back at his red-from-training-hard face. “What’s the difference between your car and, let’s say, a Honda Civic.” “You’re kidding, right? First of all, kid, it’s the comfort. The Flying Spur is like first class on the world’s biggest airplane while the Civic is like where the dog crates are stored. Secondly, it’s the power and pleasure that comes from sitting behind the wheel of that beauty. And, among many other things, it’s knowing that what you’ve got is a classic – something everybody else wants.” “Well, let’s just say you’re the Civic and my man, Marco, is the Bentley. And you, my friend, are done.” “Ouch, you sure are a buzz kill. What a way to put me in my place.” “You worked hard, today. You know, you really don’t need me. You’ve got a clear understanding of exercise, great form, and a great body. I know it’s not good business, but you are paying for something you don’t really need.” “Are you kidding? You think I’m paying you for your expertise about working out? Buddy, I choose to have you as my trainer so for an hour and a half two days a week I get to look at the kind of perfection that probably inspired Michelangelo. I get to cop a feel or two of the hottest body in the city. I get more fodder from you for private spank time than anything on the great big web could ever offer. I’ll be yanking my chain in my office before you even make it home, Keegan. I hope this Marco fellow knows how lucky he is.” “I’m the lucky one,” I said, winking at the man. “Hey, the two of you wouldn’t be interested in a shared bed, sometime, would you?” “How often do you lend out your Bentley?” “Never.” “I’m the same about my man.” “When the hell did monogamy become so popular again?” he said, collecting his wallet, phone, and other personal items. “Ever since I met Marco.” “I’d like to meet your man, sometime, Keegan. Just for dinner, don’t give me that look. I really mean just a meal and conversation. I’d like to meet the guy that has slayed such a huge and handsome dragon. My offer on helping him get a chef position somewhere still stands.” “Dinner sounds good, I’ll check with Marco and get back to you. Marco always says thank you for the offer of a job, but he wants to make it or break it on his own.” “You two inspire me,” Mr. Groping Hands said as he reached up to latch a hand on my massive pec and squeeze, before walking off. “One more handful to fuel my afternoon release. See you Tuesday, Mr. Universe.” I watched the handsome guy walk to his car. He really was a good catch. He was successful. He was a fully ‘out’ director and producer in Hollywood and that was almost unheard of. His movies had won numerous awards and his sole Oscar was for directing an incredible heart-wrenching independent film about two older gay lovers. He was even liked by other people in the business. All of that, however, didn’t come close to Marco. I pulled out my phone and hit the only ‘favorite’ I had. “Hello, Mister Muscles,” answered the silky voice of my lover. “Bad time?” “Never a bad time for you. I’m just ironing some shirts. How was Mr. Grabby Fingers?” “Mr. Groping Hands was fine. He offered a thousand dollars today and wanted give me a blow job in his Bentley.” “You have such the glamorous life. You know, of course, I have figured out who this man is, even though you are the consummate professional and have never revealed his name.” “I’ll always be able to say I did not tell you. He’d like the three of us to go to dinner sometime. He’d like to behold the stud who has stolen my heart.” “I think he’d be sadly disappointed and baffled as to why you weren’t already fully ensconced in his Malibu mansion.” “Or he’d fall in love with you and steal you away,” I said, only half-joking. “Would his flexed arm surpass the size of yours,” Marco asked, sexily. “Not even close,” I replied. “Then you, my friend, have nothing to worry about.” “Oh, so the first guy you meet that is larger than me is who you’ll dump me for?” “Well, since I’m never going to meet anyone larger than you – and even if that crazy idea could come true – you have nothing to be worried about. Besides, there’s another huge muscle of yours that I’m pretty sure will never be topped by any other mere mortal.” “Speaking of ‘Tennessee,’ he’s definitely screaming for some attention from little Marco.” “Well, since you now have a session with the nameless Mrs. Famous Actress who stars in one of my favorite shows and is married to a world-famous divorce lawyer (no way I could figure that one out), you better calm down before she offers to blow you in whatever fancy car she drives.” “She always rides her bike to sessions. She’s very concerned about the environment.” “Of course, she is. Well, tell ‘Tennessee’ that I will see him in the shower this afternoon before I leave for work. One more thing, Mr. Muscles.” “What’s that, Boo?” “Don’t be mad when you get a call later on.” “What does that mean?” “Just don’t be mad. I’ll see you later. Love you.” And the phone went dead. I stared at it for a few seconds, wondering what Marco meant. I did not have to wait long to find out, however. The phone rang with a number I did not recognize and had not keyed in. “Hello,” I said, cautiously. “Hey, Keegan, it’s Kyle.” My knight in shining armor had not done what I requested. Kyle had been reprimanded and forced to give me a call. I would have to act angry with Marco for a little while this afternoon, but I knew ‘Tennessee’ would be begging for the beautiful man’s mouth - or even more - and would prevent me from sulking for too long. I returned to the upcoming awkward conversation. “Hey Kyle, what’s up?” “Listen, I’ve been thinking that I haven’t started off our relationship on the right foot. I’m pretty protective of Marco and always want what’s best for him. I just wanted to say I’m sorry if I haven’t always been cordial and I was hoping we could, you know, kind of start over and let me make it up to you. If that’s okay . . . with you.” I knew I wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer or the brightest bulb on the tree, but I did know a thing or two about men and how to act around them. This was a huge deal for Kyle – to be making this call – and it showed what a good friend he was to Marco. Dating a guy is not a private affair – if you wanted it to last, which I definitely did, you had to accept that you were dating his family and friends, too. You also needed to make sure your boyfriend’s best friend never felt too excluded or shamed. I understood Kyle. I also felt for him, since I had figured out, way before Marco told me, that Kyle had a longtime crush on his best friend. I was an unwanted interruption in their unrequited love affair. I knew how to make things right – or as right as they ever would be, because Kyle would continue to be jealous of me. I would just have to accept that. “Man, Kyle, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve always been cool. I know it’s hard to add a new person to a set group of friends, but you always seemed to go out of your way to include me. There’s no need for you to apologize, but consider it a clean slate if you need to.” I could feel the guy’s smile across the phone waves. He knew I was playing along with the game that he was playing. We both knew each other knew it. We both knew Marco knew we were playing it. But that didn’t take away from the fact that we were doing it. I was giving Kyle the gift of being able to call Marco and tell him everything was good. I empowered Kyle with a secure best friend status and the ability to embrace me just a tad more into the group. He was freeing me to completely be Marco’s boyfriend – holding hands when we were out, talking about intimate stuff around everyone, and even kissing, on occasion. We both were freeing Marco of worry and tension our unnamed battle might have caused. The universe shifted to welcome this new reality. “Okay, then,” Kyle said. “I’m glad. That’s great. I’m really happy you found Marco (we weren’t quite ready to be happy that Marco found me). I’ll see you for drinks tomorrow night, right.” “Yes, you will. And Kyle, thank you,” I replied and it was the most honest thing in the entire conversation – we both knew that, too. “Of course, man. Thank you. See you tomorrow.” “See you.” The phone went quiet and dark. I immediately texted my sole ‘favorite’ saved in the phone as I watched Mrs. Famous Actress biking up the path. The text was short and sweet. “Thanks for defending my honor. ‘Tennessee’ will be expecting extra attention to make up for it.” ************ The text made me long to have ‘Tennessee’ in my mouth right at that moment – or some other orifice of pleasure. My entire being missed the hugeness of Keegan – all of his hugeness – every second he wasn’t touching me. I knew that this feeling was part of the honeymoon period of a relationship, but I also knew it was mostly and specifically to do with how much the big man turned me on. My face only came up to his nipples – a convenient spot for my mouth – and I had a feeling the most accurate ratio would have been three and a half of my bodies equaled his one. I loved muscles – all of my friends knew this – but no one, especially me, would have anticipated the giant mountain of sinew that now shared a bed with me three, four, or – sometimes – seven days a week. We made sure we split our time between both of our places – just to be fair. I was also still amazed he didn’t go crazy in my small place – his enormous frame almost completely filling up any room he was in. His place was bigger, more expensive, and nicer – but Keegan always seemed happy to be at my place, too. He said he just wanted to be wherever I was. “This moment calls for Ms. Ross, the boss,” I said – to no one - as I found the song ‘I Want Muscles’ and blared it in my apartment. I had one more shirt to iron, but dancing around my living room took precedence. I thought about calling Kyle to tell him thank you, but that wasn’t how this worked. He needed to think I was still a little unhappy with how he had been treating my new gorgeous, wonderful, mammoth boyfriend. Kyle had heard in my voice the unspoken ultimatum that if I was forced to choose, I’d go with Keegan. It had been the first time ever I had insinuated this, we both felt that big elephant in the room. It scared each of us – a lot – and for the first time in our lives the conversation on the phone had faltered, even stopped for a few seconds. Kyle had been my best friend ever since he had scared the crap out of a bully on the playground in seventh grade by screaming louder than a police siren to alert teachers of a potential incident. The bully never bothered me again and Kyle and I became lifelong friends. We came out to each other in high school and he confessed his love for me in college. Our friendship was cemented even more when we worked through that, me finally letting him know I was drawn to big men. He first thought I meant I was a chub chaser, but then I had told him I liked muscles. We watched each other botch up a few serious relationships and more than a few one-night stands. Then we became locked into the scene in Los Angeles – he, as a new financial planner at his dad’s firm, and me, as one of only twenty-five people chosen to attend a posh three-year culinary school. He was presently working his way up the corporate ladder and I had graduated top of my class and was working hard as a sous chef at a prestigious restaurant. To help make ends meet I had taken a second job delivering nutritious homemade meals to the great people of Los Angeles who had extra money to burn. “Get that last shirt done,” I said to myself when Ms. Ross had finished singing about men’s bodies. A big mistake – one that cost me the delivery job – had changed my life forever, just a little over eleven months ago. I had been sent to one of those nice downtown high rises with a meal which could have been a late lunch or an early dinner depending on whomever had ordered it. I wasn’t paying attention – what was new – and got off on the wrong floor because someone had pushed the call button for the elevator but went back into their place to probably retrieve a forgotten item. I assumed it was the floor I needed when the doors opened and no one was there. I went down the hall and mistook 4-K for apartment 5-K. Meanwhile – only to find out later – a broken-hearted bodybuilder/personal trainer named Keegan Robinson was going through a fully acceptable slutty stage after a very hard break up and had made an afternoon booty call to help him relieve some sexual tension before he went to the gym to workout. Keegan lived in apartment 4-K. When he opened the door to find this cute guy standing there with earphones on jamming to some tunes, he was pleasantly surprised by how lucky he was to get such a wholesome looking hookup. He had pulled me into the apartment so quickly that I didn’t really have time to say anything. “Hey bud, sorry to be so direct, but I just really need to get off before I go and do this intense two-hour workout. You don’t mind if I pay you full price to just suck me off right here, do you? I’d really appreciate it.” I was still reeling from the fact that this smooth-faced Hercules had answered the door. I had never been this close to someone that size. I had a muscle fetish, for sure, but all of my big body encounters didn’t come close to matching the mountain range of bulges standing there in a tank-top and basketball shorts. My music was blaring, so I hadn’t heard what the giant had said, but when he pulled down his shorts to reveal the longest and thickest and most juicy-looking sausage of my entire life – making it clear he wanted a blowjob – I didn’t miss a beat. I dropped the bag of gourmet food, dropped to my knees, and then dropped that mammoth thing down my throat so quickly you would have thought I was a professional. Every guy I had ever slept with – and it was quite a few – had always said I was the best cocksucker he had ever met. Even if the guy ended up dumping me he always ended with, “I’m going to so miss that mouth of yours.” I have no idea why I was so good. Maybe it was because I just imagined what I would like when I did it. Or maybe it was just because I loved sucking so much. Either way, the stars were aligned that afternoon because my skills and the desire to be really good because of the hulking body I was getting to blow enabled me to give the bodybuilder the kind of pleasure he had never known before. I made him cum so hard he threw his body into a terrifying, but astounding most muscular pose as he spewed – causing me to swallow even harder, which – in turn – made him shoot a quick second round. The big man fell to his knees, his cock pulling from my mouth and his big arms engulfing me. “Fuuuuuuckkkk, what in the hell was that?” he said loudly between heavy breaths and trying to steady his still-swaying huge body. I pulled out my earphones and was about to ask what he said, when there was a knock on the door. The giant rose to his feet, still a little unsteady, and pulled up his shorts as he opened the door. A definite slutty player stood there, kind of fake-smiling – which turned into a real smile when he saw the behemoth that had called. I’m sure the hustler was super thankful it was some huge Adonis instead of a balding middle-aged married man. “Sup, Thor,” the hustler said, “I’m here to rock your world.” The bodybuilder turned to look at me, catching sight of the food bag at the same time. There was a stack of bills on a table by the door. The big man grabbed these and the bag at the same time. He looked at the address on the slip stapled to the carrier. He turned to slutty hustler and handed him the bag and money. “Changed my mind, dude. Something better unexpectedly came along. Here’s your money, though, and do you mind delivering this one floor up to 5-K. Thanks a lot,” said the muscled perfection and then he quickly closed the door. Turning to me he added, “Can you do that again?” Needless to say, Keegan never made it to the gym that evening. The hustler didn’t deliver the food, so I was fired by text when I wouldn’t answer my phone. I had been too busy, however, swallowing four big loads of the bodybuilder’s swimmers within a three-hour period. I had never known a guy that could produce so much semen so quickly. He was some kind of sexual superman. He kept saying each orgasm was more powerful than the last and claimed that I had some kind of oral magical powers. He screamed louder with each ejaculation and I was sure his neighbors thought he was being murdered. After blowing him in the kitchen, living room and bedroom his body was so jacked he said it equaled the two-hour workout he had missed. He ordered Chinese food and we ate it totally nude on his living room floor. After exploding the fourth time, he pulled me onto his humongous body and we kissed for the first time. Basically, my mouth had been filled with his cock for three hours straight and the guy was finally slightly spent, and ready to get to know me. “Fucking tell me your single . . . um, oh fuck, what’s your name?” “I’m Marco,” I said, holding out my hand to him as I rested my chin on his massive chest. “I’m Keegan.” “Nice to meet you, Keegan. You have the hottest body I’ve ever seen.” “And you, my friend, have the hottest mouth I’ve ever known. Please fucking tell me you are single, Marco . . . cause I’m in love.” “If only it were that simple,” I laughed, and pulled away, but his strong hands grabbed the sides of my head and turned my gaze back to his. “It is that simple, Marco.” I could tell he was serious. My instincts told me this was one of the purest moments of my adult life – so far. I knew I could let the cynical side of me take control and ruin the moment, but feeling the man’s hard body beneath mine and his stronger than strong grip on my head made me join him in his joyous world for a little while – even if it was just a fantasy. “I’m very single, Keegan. I’m also into muscle,” I added, internally saying ‘what the hell’ and choosing to be brutally honest. “That’s very cool, because I have a lot of that,” he said, smiling. “I noticed,” I replied. “Want me to pose for you?” “That would be awesome. I’ll repay you by sucking you off, again.” The big man easily tossed me off his body and was standing beside the bed before I even finished my sentence. He then threw his body into the kind of routine that usually made me spew uncontrollably when I watched bodybuilding competitions online. This time, however, I could reach out and touch the real thing as I watched – which seemed to make him happy, too. Soon, Keegan was covered in sweat and insanely pumped. “Keep posing,” I ordered, as I took his big cock in my mouth. When I started to have strong feelings for a guy – authentic feelings – my blowjobs actually increased in their power to turn the guy on. I guess it had to do with the fact that I knew this was something real and not just a quickie. I had already started to fall for this big man. I could feel it. Yes, we didn’t know each other and, yes, our meeting had been a big mistake, but something magical was happening between us. His love of my mouth and my love of his muscles were leading to something much more important – something much deeper. He hit a double biceps power pose and I swallowed his tool hard, causing him to buck back and forth with the strongest blast of the evening. He held the flex through the entire orgasm and then collapsed on me when his cock was completely empty. I laughed a little when the huge man was sound asleep in seconds. I guess even superman had a limit when it came to ejaculations. I somehow freed my body from his and started exploring the apartment as Keegan got some much-needed post-sex sleep. The trip around his apartment told me a lot about him – he wasn’t a reader (there were no books, only bodybuilding magazines), he was clearly out to his family (pictures of him kissing past boyfriends while with parents), he had one sister and one brother, he won lots of bodybuilding contests (a lot of first place trophies and medals), he must have been a pretty well-known personal trainer (pictures of him training lots of famous people), and he was well-liked (lots of cards and notes from people telling him how great he was). I also learned about Greg – some guy that had clearly broken up with him recently (note apologizing and saying goodbye and torn pictures of a trip together in the trash can). When I returned to the bedroom I took advantage of his passed-out state and ran my hands over every part of his hard, muscled body. I figured I might never get the chance again, so I should take the opportunity now. As my hands rubbed his perfect pecs, his hands came up and grabbed my head again. He led my face to his nipple and I used my expert sucking skills there, too. Soon I had him moaning like a wild beast. He pulled my head away, so we could, again, gaze at each other. “Stay the night,” he said. “On one condition, Mr. Muscles,” I said, using the future nickname for the first time. “Name it and it’s yours.” “Fuck me. My ass is getting jealous of all the attention you’ve given my mouth.” He flexed his right arm hard as his response. I climbed on top of him *********** Working out in the park – the sun, the breeze, the sound of the ocean – only seemed to make me hornier than a squadron of frat boys. The park and the thought of Marco’s mouth, ass, face, lips, earlobes, balls, kneecaps, toenails – just all of him, really, just did something to me. We’d been together for more than eleven months and I never stopped thinking about him. I kept expecting to stop craving him so much – eventually – but my desire only seemed to increase. I still couldn’t believe he didn’t hate me for thinking he was my rent boy showing up for a little afternoon delight. He had dropped to his knees so quickly that day and given me the kind of mind-altering orgasm you only heard about in fairy tales or sex stories. My legs, which are insanely big and quite powerful had become like liquid as I fell to the floor – a wiped out mess of a man. When I asked if he could do that again, I had truly expected we’d have another round and then I’d be off to the gym and he’d go try to get his delivery job back. I didn’t anticipate my mind would be altered over and over again every time he blew me that night. I finally had just fallen asleep, even my big body had its limits. I felt a little bad when I woke up, but then I found him caressing my entire body and my tool had become fully erect, again. He then asked me to fuck him and I quickly learned his ass gave his mouth some serious competition. Almost a year later I am still trying to decide which part of him gave me more pleasure. “See you next week,” I called out to the waving Mrs. Famous Actress as she rode away on her bike. I started gathering all the equipment I used for working out into the big bag that Marco could never budge when I left it in the path we had to travel from one room to another in my apartment. He had figured out that I did it on purpose so I could watch him unsuccessfully try and move it and then finally have to call me to do it. I’d pound on my chest and say ‘you weak, me strong’ before moving it with one hand. Sometimes, I then throw him over my shoulder and take him to the bedroom to show him just how strong a certain part of me was. That first night, before I plowed him, it suddenly dawned on me that he had blown me four times, but I had never gotten him off. I was such a self-absorbed asshole, but it was his fault for being so awesome at blowjobs. I quickly apologized for overlooking his sexual needs. He looked confused, then laughed, and explained he had gotten off every time I had cum. My baffled look amused him and he said making a big guy like me explode gave him much pleasure and he rocked out a load in unison with my orgasms. I had just been too wrecked each time to notice. I found this one of the most erotic things I had ever heard, which only fueled the plowing I gave to his ass even more. When I saw that gorgeous man throw his head back, moaning in ecstasy that first time I fucked him you would have thought I had been given the biggest and best gift in the world, for that’s how I felt. I suddenly understood how blowing me thrilled him so much. Making him scream with pleasure made me explode, as well. We were joined by some kind of inexplicable force that I knew – even that first night together – would never be broken. My phone buzzed and I saw a text which read, ‘I need my Tennessee.’ When Marco greeted me at the door totally nude, which happened a lot, I would so quickly shoot hard that I’d actually feel dizzy and like I might pass out. Today, to be greeted that way, and to immediately smell the wonderful aroma of his famous chicken parmigiana was almost too much to handle – even for a big man like me. Before the click of the door shutting echoed through his small apartment, the guy was on his knees, had ‘Tennessee’ fully unclothed, and was making my love for him blossom even more deeply than it already was. I was worn out from a day of clients, but that man’s lips, that man’s warm mouth, that guy’s deep throat could revive me like one of those electric shock thingies they sometimes put on your chest and yell ‘clear.’ He was some kind of magical Hoover made specifically for my penis. His oral skills made me turn into some kind of wild superman. He made me feel powerful, manly, and able to do anything in the world. My entire body would shoot tense and hard, as if I was showing off on stage or in the bedroom for hundreds of admirers. Sucking me off when I came in was equal to a kiss on the lips to Marco and that was more than okay with me. I knew it was pleasing him as much as it was me, so that made it even better. A couple of minutes later, I’d be leaning against the wall, my chest heaving up and down – unable to move for a few minutes – while he retrieved paper towels to clean up the mess he made on the hardwood floor. “God . . . I . . . wish . . . I . . . knew . . . how . . . you . . . do . . . that,” I stammered between breaths. “It’s all because of the magnificent temple I’m kneeling before. It’s all because of ‘Tennessee’,” he said, smiling and finally kissing me hello. “What’s that I smell?” I asked, as my heartrate returned to normal. “Chicken parmigiana.” “But I thought you had to work?” “Susan called yesterday to see if we could change shifts. I thought I’d surprise you.” “You little gorgeous sneak! Does this mean I get to have numerous orgasms tonight?” “It does indeed, Mr. Muscles.” “Hey, wait a minute. I just remembered I’m mad at you. Give me my cum back. I wasn’t going to give into my urges so quickly. I wanted to punish you for calling Kyle.” “It’s fine for you to be mad, but no one makes my big man feel small,” he said and my heart suddenly thumped harder. “Go sit down in the living room, Mr. Angry Pants, and I’ll bring you a glass of wine.” I gave him a mean face and walked down the hall. The fragrance hit me before I even got to the back room. When I stepped around the corner I beheld a sight that instantly brought tears to my eyes and made my shoulder convulse as I started to blubber. Every possible empty spot in the room was covered in red roses. The floor, the sofa, the chairs, the tables – everywhere. There were vases with roses, boxes with roses, and rose petals strewn everywhere. Through the water filling my eyes I saw a card sitting on a small table in the center of the room. In bold letters it said ‘open me’ on the front. I knelt down and tore open the envelope. It was a handmade card in the shape of a heart. I opened it and written inside it said ‘turn around.’ In my overwhelmed, confused state I simply did what the card told me to do. There, kneeling behind me, was a now clothed boyfriend holding open a small box with a beautiful man-sized band inside of it. I convulsed and blubbered more – like a baby. “As I said last night, Mr. Muscles. I’m not going anywhere. There won’t be a point where I say you bore me or that I want something else. I only want you. Forever. And ever. Amen. Keegan Andrew Robinson, will you please do me the great honor of becoming my husband so I can blow you every day for the rest of my life.” I had to fall back and sit on the floor I was sobbing so hard. I was a mighty oak of a man, someone who won bodybuilding contests and powerlifting competitions. I could make women and men cream in their pants with just a smile or a flex. I lifted more weight than ninety-nine percent of the men in my gym. I intimidated the hell out of powerful businessmen and bullies, alike. But at that moment, at that exact specific second, I became a baby – crying with the kind of joy that can burst a heart. I started nodding my head up and down even as the tears fell on the rose petals around me. “Yes. Yes. A lifetime of yesses,” I forced my mouth to say as I welcomed Marco into my open arms and squeezed him with way too much strength. “Whoa, Mr. Muscles, careful, there, don’t break me before you own me!” “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You’ve just made me the happiest man in the world. I love you, Marco. I love you so much.” “I love you, Keegan. Let’s put this ring on that big finger.” I sat there, with my other hand up to my mouth like some Victorian heroine beholding the love of her life naked for the first time. I watched as the man I loved – the man I would always love – slid a perfect ring on my finger. I held up my hand and started to cry again. Marco, put his palm against my cheek and just smiled at me. “I’m the luckiest guy I know,” he said, softly, and I cried more. “Sorry to ruin the moment, but you have to call your parents. I promised we would right after I – hopefully – got a yes. Your father actually said he’d give me all of his money if you said no – he was that sure of your answer. Maybe we should tell him you said no, just to get the money.” “You talked to my parents about this?” I said, shocked. “I flew up to see them a month ago – remember when you were in Vegas for that photo shoot. Well, I went up there to ask them if I could ask you for your hand in marriage. Your mother cried and your father opened a bottle of champagne that I think probably cost more than I’ve ever made in a year. I had to get their blessing, first. Your sister asked when we would have children – she said she hoped us having kids would get your parents off her back. Your brother started rambling on that it was time for me to start thinking about my portfolio, but then he simply said he’d be honored to have me as a brother-in-law. It actually made me weepy. Not like you, of course, but I still got a little emotional.” “You are such a hopeless romantic,” I said, hugging him tightly again, but not too tightly. “By the way, we also have another reason to celebrate – although it pales in comparison to this.” “What’s that,” I asked. “Well, it’s not definite yet, because you have to weigh in on the decision. But, if you say yes and I say yes, you’re looking at the new head chef at Grigio.” “What? Are you fucking with me right now?” “Nope, it’s true. I could be a real chef by the time we’re husband and husband.” “That is the best news ever . . . well, second to this,” I said pointing at the ring. “Of course, you should say yes. It’s what you’ve always wanted. You’ll be amazing.” “It’ll be a lot of hours as I learn the ropes, though. I just want us to be sure.” “Stop it, we’re sure. We're more than sure. We’ll make it work. We’ll figure out how to sneak in enough blowjobs to keep us both happy. Now, this is definitely the happiest day of my life. I am going to be married to a chef. Chef Marco. Wow, that sounds hot.” “Call your parents and I’ll finish getting dinner ready,” Marco said, turning his head up so we could kiss deeply. “Um . . . ‘Tennessee’ is ready to go again if both of those things can wait.”

My Best Friend's Muscles by Mikeytron I posted this story on metabods over the last few weeks, but I felt I should share it here as well. You can check it out over there if you'd like, as well as several of my other stories - M Part One I posted the human trial to our work Slack expecting the guys to go nuts when they saw it. After all, the results were, in a word, stunning. I didn’t think anyone would react right away, though. It was 2:11 in the morning when I finished preparing the report, sitting in my dark basement, the unhealthy glow of my computer screen the only light. Surely I was the only one awake. I was wrong, though. The channel blew up almost instantly. I guess we’re all nightowls. It would fit the stereotype. “Holy fuck, Rob, these are beyond my wildest dreams,” typed Eli. “Real sci fi shit.” “You sure you didn’t just give all these guys tren instead?” typed Anderson. “No way, these results are better than tren,” Eli replied. “Guys I’m so excited, we’re gonna make a hundred million bucks,” typed Hakan. “Fuck that man, we’re gonna make the biggest bodybuilders the world has ever seen,” typed Matteo. “Haha, you’re always thinking with your dick,” Eli replied to Matteo. “Tell me you’re not hard as a rock right now,” Matteo replied to Eli. “I’m dripping,” Eli replied, with a tongue-sticking-out emoji. You could say ours was not the typical workplace. We don’t technically have a team leader, but the role kind of fell to me, and I knew I had to reel in the others before their excitement got out of hand. Keep their eyes on the prize. They were like puppies, sometimes. Geeky, muscle-obsessed, scientifically brilliant gay puppies. “Settle down everyone,” I typed. “Go jack off and get some sleep, tomorrow we’ve got to plan how to sell this.” “You’re no fun,” Matteo replied with a gif of a cartoon character dramatically weeping. “@everyone Brunch on my rooftop, 11 am. Go get your beauty sleep ladies” Hakan replied. I closed Slack with a smile. I fully intended to take the first half of my own advice. It was definitely wank o’clock. But I had no idea how I’d sleep at all, afterward. This was one of the most exciting moments of my life. We had actually done it. I glanced through the PDF of the results one last time, already painfully erect, leaking pre as I read. 16 week trial. Control group of 25 men, following a workout routine designed for hypertrophy, eating an identical diet. Average muscle gain, confirmed by DEXA scan: 5.7 lbs. Group A, 25 men, taking 100 mcg of the compound daily, following the same workout routine, the same diet. Average muscle gain, confirmed by DEXA scan: 20.1 lbs. Group B, 25 men, taking 200 mcg of the compound daily, same workout, same diet. Average muscle gain, confirmed by DEXA scan: 31.6 lbs. One man in Group B had added 42 lbs of muscle. In a little less than four months. Fuck. I couldn’t help it. Knowing my teammates were likely doing the exact same, I slipped my underwear down, my hard cock bobbing proudly, a pearl of precum glistening in the blue light of the computer screen. I jerked off to the PDF. There weren’t any pictures, just data tables and graphs, but it was more than enough. My thoughts swirling over what we were about to unleash on the world. * Like I said, there are five of us working on this project. It’s too long and too boring to tell how we all got in touch with each other, but we’re all gay, we’re all friends, we all work in biotech or medical research, and we all have a thing for muscle. Not just a little muscle. Not just a little thing. We’re all size and growth fetishists of the most extreme bent. As for our little venture… It started as a side project, something we kept under wraps. It began as empty talk in our group chat, how we wished we could be a team of muscle growth scientists with a stable of ever-growing bodybuilders who we could enjoy at our leisure. It was a running gag for a bit, talking about our muscle growth lab/dungeon. Then the talk took a more definite shape over cocktails one fateful Friday night. The various things we were working on, research papers we had fortuitously just read, some inventive lateral thinking, a few productive what-ifs…. We did the modeling. It looked promising. Then the pandemic hit, and, well… we decided to go for it. Synthesize the compound and see if it works the way the computer says it will. We had so much time on our hands, why not moonlight as a cabal of gay mad scientists in Anderson’s garage or Matteo’s basement? A little borrowed equipment here, a few vials of grey market research compounds there… The theoretical work was already done. Why not see what it does in vivo? The first tests on rodents showed such shocking results, we knew we couldn’t stop there. That’s where I kind of fell into the leadership role. I took care of the paperwork establishing our company. I found the investors to get us off the ground. I filed the patent paperwork. And I set up the human trials. Going around local gyms, recruiting men willing to inject an experimental chemical if it meant they might get bigger. And now here we were, more than a year later, having successfully captured lightning in a bottle. We had an entirely novel compound that induced extreme hypertrophy in a high testosterone environment. It wasn’t difficult to synthesize. It wasn’t difficult to administer. It seemed to have no significant negative side effects. And now we just had to sell it. * “I’ve got the perfect idea,” Matteo said, his dark eyes sparkling. He always looked most adorable when he was enthused about something. We first met on Scruff a few years back, slowly revealing the full extent of our muscle growth fetish to each other over DMs. We met, we fucked like rabbits for about two weeks, and then smoothly transitioned into being friends, like you do. “Yeah?” I responded. The four of us were sitting around a table on the roof of Hakan’s downtown Toronto condo, waiting for our host to return. It was a beautiful summer day. “You’ll love it. We do one last trial.” He could see my face souring, he knew I wanted to launch as soon as we could. “Wait, listen. One last trial, each of us asks our favourite bodybuilder to take our compound for 10 weeks and then we use before and after pics for an advertising blitz. We’ll launch at the end of the 10 weeks so we’ll have plenty of work to do. But the impact from instagram alone would be unreal. Regan Grimes adds 35 lbs of raw muscle and he did it all thanks to, uh… whatever we’re calling this.” “Yeah, Rob, what ARE we calling this?” Hakan, the fifth member of our group, interjected as he approached the table bearing a tray of fizzing champagne flutes and the half-empty bottle. He always had a flair. “Well, why don’t we each come up with our best idea for a name and then have a secret vote,” I suggested, accepting the glass Hakan handed me. “Pfft,” Anderson said, taking a glass. “Everyone will just vote for their own suggestion.” “So ask all the guys from the trial to vote on it too, whatever, it’s a free focus group.” Eli waved his hand dismissively before grabbing his glass. “You’re all ignoring Matteo’s frankly excellent idea.” “What’s your idea?” Hakan asked, handing Matteo the penultimate glass before taking the last for himself. “That we recruit five bodybuilders to be our final guinea pigs and our first spokes-brutes.” Hakan settled into his seat, compressed his lips as if considering. “I like it. Dibs on Iain.” “I already called dibs on Regan, and since it’s my idea I get double-dibs,” Matteo quickly added. “I want Antoine,” Eli added. “If we’re keeping it Canadian.” Anderson gestured imperiously. “You are all such predictable queens.” “Well, what super-heavyweight do you want to sponsor, since you’ve just got to be the iconoclast?” “Joe Seeman.” “Who?” Blank looks from the other guys, although I recognized the name. “And you call yourself a muscle fetishist! Coach Little Joe on Instagram,” Anderson replied with the air of an art snob having to identify Van Gogh’s “Sunflowers” to a room full of ignorant tourists. “Ooooh, yeah, him, he WOULD be really hot with another 30 or 40 lbs of muscle on him.” “What about you, Rob?” All eyes turned to me. I looked around at the guys, their faces shining like kids writing their Christmas wish lists. Derek Lunsford? Hunter Labrada? Nick Walker? Names flickered through my mind, a whirlwind of visual memories, thousands of nights spent with my cock in my hand, scrolling through Instagram and Tumblr and Twitter, gorging my fevered brain on muscle, more muscle, more muscle, more muscle… who would I gift this magic elixir to? What bulging skin-straining roid-freak, already existing at the current limit of muscular possibility, did I want to explode with another few dozen pounds of raw beef? “I need some time to think about it,” I said, but I was lying. I knew exactly who I wanted to blow up. “Anyway,” I said, raising my champagne flute. “Cheers, guys. To muscle. To us.” “Let’s make some monsters!” Matteo exclaimed as he clinked his glass against mine, and we all drank to that.

Jed couldn't believe it. Dexter was eating again. Jed's locker was just down the hall from Dexter's. He watched as Dexter, his face buried in his locker, cracked open a canned protein shake and with the ferocity of someone who hasn't eaten in days, glugged it down in three giant gulps. Dexter then grabbed a handful of snack bars, slammed his locker shut, and loped past Jed towards the study hall they both had next period. Dexter was wearing baggy jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. Jed watched Dexter as he passed. Something wasn't right. Jed was used to looking down on Dexter as were most of the other students at school. But now, Jed realized that he could not see the top of Dexter's head as he shuffled passed eyes fixed on the floor. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He couldn't get to his locker fast enough. He was starving! That morning he had eaten even more than usual -- a three egg omelet, two breakfast sausages, and a bowl of grits. Thankfully his mother still enjoyed cooking for him. He was full when he finished, but that lasted barely an hour. By 9, his stomach felt empty. By 9:30, he was hungry. By 9:45, he was counting the seconds till the period was over and he could rush to his locker where he knew he had snacks waiting. Dexter felt Jed eyeing him. He hated that he had so many classes with Jed. Many people picked on Dexter, but Jed was the worst. Of course, that hadn't happened recently. Things were changing. The bell rang and Dexter leapt from his seat and tore across the room and down the hall to reach his locker as quickly as possible. He had finished his protein shake before he realized he even had his locker open. It felt so good to drink it. His body calmed a bit. He took a breath and grabbed three of the healthy snack bars that his mom started buying for him. He knew the protein shake wasn't going to be near enough. Three snack bars would hopefully do it. Lunch was an hour and a half away. He raced past Jed without looking up at him. Even from his periphery, Dexter noticed that Jed was seeming less and less tall. Soon, Dexter thought, I'll be the taller one. Maybe very soon. Dexter was asleep in class again. Jed didn't know how he got away with it. Dexter was sitting in his usual front corner desk when Jed entered the room. Before Jed could settle in a seat, Dexter opened a book like he was going to study, then quickly unwrapped three snack bars. A disinterested Mr. Bowman sat behind his desk facing the class. He never cared what the students did as long as they kept quiet. Each student took a seat, the room quieted, and Dexter methodically and silently ate three snack bars, one after the other, appearing to savor each bite. He then put his head down on his desk and seemed to fall asleep instantly. Again, Jed thought something wasn't right. Dexter's sweatshirt was baggy and oversized, but Jed could not convince himself that Dexter wasn't almost filling it out. In his position leaning forward, the sweatshirt appeared to be stretched somewhat tightly across Dexter's shoulders and upper back. As he slept, Dexter's chest expanded and contracted with each slow breath. With each expansion, Jed swore he could see Dexter's lat muscles coming further into focus under the sweatshirt. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? Dexter's back couldn't be that wide, his back muscles couldn't be that pronounced, and there is no way those could possibly be Dexter’s shoulders and upper arms filling out the sweatshirt. He must be wearing a thick shirt underneath. Maybe it was even a second sweatshirt. That had to be it. Dexter shifted slightly, his arms changing position, the creases in what to Jed increasingly seemed like a stretched sweatshirt changing to accommodate the shifting mysterious bulk beneath. Jed looked away. He must be going crazy. Dexter made sure his book was opened and his snack bars unwrapped before the normal classroom noises died down. He liked sitting in the front corner of the classroom -- close enough to the teacher that no one would mess with him, far enough from the teacher not to draw his attention. The snack bars were so inviting. He was still very hungry. He wanted to wolf them down but knew that would be a bad idea. So, he ate them as slowly as he could manage. Each bite was delicious. He knew each mouthful he swallowed would go towards his growing body. It felt so good. He wasn't wearing anything under the sweatshirt. Each time he brought a bar to his mouth to take a bite, he could feel the tightness of his sweatshirt as it stretched ever so slightly over his shoulder and arms. He resisted the temptation to flex. His biceps and triceps bulged now even without flexing. Could he see the peak of his bicep through the sweatshirt even now? Was the sweatshirt that tight on him? It couldn't be. He took another bite. Then another. Then another until he was finished. He got tired right away as he often did after eating these days. The weight of the snack bars and protein shake felt good in his stomach. His body was happy. Maybe he would grow. He realized he should bury that thought. The thought of growing excited him. Sometimes he got hard just thinking about it. His jeans were very baggy, but now he was starting to worry they were not baggy enough. He looked down at the folds of the jeans over his lap. The bulge of his penis was obvious to him. It was so big now. People couldn't tell, though, right? He wasn't sure he wanted anybody to notice. Except maybe Cindy. People would just see bunched baggy jeans. Maybe he should try to stay awake. If he fell asleep, he might get an erection. He was so tired, though. Before he could register just how tired, he was asleep. Forty minutes went by slowly for Jed. People kept trying to pass him notes mostly to ask about his girlfriend Cindy. Jed refused to write back. Cindy was fine and yes, she was still his girlfriend and people needed to stop asking him about it or he was going to get mad. All the while, his mind kept coming back to Dexter who was dead to the world asleep. Jed's friends finally gave up on him. Left alone, Jed was drawn once again to Dexter's sleeping form. With each passing moment, Jed became more and more convinced that Dexter did seem to be the wrong size. He was too big. Something was definitely wrong. Jed scanned Dexter from head to toe taking in everything that looked wrong -- thick arms, rounded shoulders, a wide back, and... was that a giant bulge in Dexter's crotch? Jed tried to look away -- this was disgusting -- but he couldn't. It could be a trick of his jeans, which were every bit as baggy as his sweatshirt, but was it? Jed watched with fascination and horror as the bulge at Dexter's crotch started to grow. It grew, pushing outward, a dome bigger than Jed's eyes wanted him to believe. There was a pause, then abruptly the bulge changed and began snaking its way down Dexter's right leg. One inch, then another, then another until a bulge as thick as a can of energy drink and twice as long snaked more than halfway to Dexter's knee! It was enormous! Dexter's breathing became deeper and faster. What was clearly a giant erection pulsed against Dexter's increasingly tight jeans. Moment after moment, breath after breath, the bulge in Dexter's pants seemed to swell towards its full size. Could Jed see the head of Dexter's cock inflating under his jeans? It looked the size of a baseball! Suddenly, Dexter shot awake. He sat up, looked down at his lap, and immediately flushed. Jed forced his eyes to the front of the room. He tried to forget what he just saw. Finally, the bell rang, and Jed left the room with the class. Dexter was having a dream about Cindy. Fuck it was good. She was so damn hot. Her tits huge and so soft. He was about to kiss them. Cindy moaned, her pink nipples swelling towards his waiting mouth... Derek bolted awake. Fuck, he’d fallen asleep. He was immediately aware of the giant erection straining against his jeans. Fuck, it was huge! People would see! He repositioned his legs and shifted his sweatshirt, so it covered as much of his leg as possible. Fuck, stop thinking of Cindy. Think of something else. Anything else. Did anyone notice? Dexter scanned the room. Nobody seemed to have noticed, but Dexter thought Jed seemed to be making a point of looking straight ahead at the empty whiteboard. Mercifully, the bell rang. Dexter stayed seated as the rest of the class left the room. He felt his cock deflate slightly. "Ok there Dexter?" Mr. Bowman asked with an inquisitive look? "Yes, I'm fine Mr. Bowman", Dexter responded gathering his things. He stood to leave. When he reached his full height, he realized things looked different. The angles were off. Things looked lower. Was he taller? He had had a few tall mornings recently, waking up realizing he had grown overnight. It couldn't have happened while he was napping during class, could it? Mr. Bowman raised an eyebrow. Dexter hurried out of the classroom. Jed couldn't believe what he'd seen. Or what he'd thought he'd seen. What was happening? Trying to appear calm to anybody who was watching, he walked towards his locker. Cindy was supposed to meet him there. He rounded the corner of the hall where his locker was. No Cindy. Jed just kept walking. People were watching him. He just kept walking. He arrived early to his next class -- physical education. He walked straight to his locker and started to change. One more period to go till lunch. He would probably see Cindy there, unless she was making a point to avoid him, which she might be. He thought back to two weeks ago when things really started to go bad with them. Jed was messing with Dexter as he had done countless times before. He had twisted Dexter's arm behind his back and was slowly raising it higher as Dexter squealed in pain. A small crowd had gathered to watch the entertainment. Jed's friends were goading him on. Then Cindy was there. "Why do you always have to pick on him?!" Cindy shrieked at him. "Why shouldn't I?!" Jed shot back. But what he was thinking was, "Because I saw you looking at him! Again!" What was worse is there was something wrong with Dexter. He was putting up much more of a fight than he ever had before. He screamed at Jed in his squeaky voice, "Let me go!" and tried furiously to break Jed's grip. Jed's left hand was clutching Dexter's upper left arm, Jed's right hand forced Dexter's right arm up his back, well past the point of pain. Suddenly, Dexter grunted, really more of a squeak, and tried to escape, forcing his right arm downward and lurching forward to break Jed's grip on his left arm. Even through his oversized sweatshirt, Jed felt Dexter's left arm swell with hard muscle as his biceps and triceps flexed violently. His right arm forced Jed’s down an inch or two before Jed, throwing all his strength into it, managed to stop Dexter's escape attempt... just barely. Dexter struggled for a few more seconds before giving up. Jed had won again, but just barely. Jed was shocked at Dexter's seemingly brand new strength and the way his arm had swelled when he tried to escape. Jed looked back at Cindy to find her glaring at him. Her arms were crossed under very ample breasts. Her eyes were points of anger aimed directly at Jed. Jed let Dexter go and he shuffled off, eyes down, tears streaming down his face. Cindy broke her gaze with Jed to watch Dexter as he left. Things had been bad with Cindy ever since. Everything in the hallway looked just the slightest bit shorter to Dexter. The lockers, the classroom doors, and even the other students. Could this really be happening? He did have not time to dwell on it. The friction of his jeans against his cock as he hurried down the hall caused his erection to return in full force and then some. His swollen cock had escaped his underwear, he knew. As he walked, his cock head pushed closer and closer to his knee. It strained against his increasingly tight jeans, his quadricep muscles flexing against his swollen erection. The thought of his cock growing caused it to swell that much more. He had to find someplace private and deal with this situation. He had to get to gym class though. There was no way he could walk into the changing room like this. Frantically, he ducked into a bathroom and into an empty stall quickly closing the door behind him. There were two other guys in the bathroom. A bead of sweat ran down Dexter's forehead as he waited desperately for them to leave. The instant they were out the door, Dexter unzipped his jeans and pulled them down. His dick was straining against his over-matched underwear. His cock head and at least two inches of shaft had escaped the bottom edge of his underwear. Dexter marveled at it for half a heartbeat before ripping his underwear down. His cock surged and sprang upward thickening and lengthening by inches. Fuck, it must be ten inches long! Dexter put both his hands on his cock and instantly it exploded in an intense orgasm. Spurt after spurt of cum erupted from his dick and splattered against the door of the stall. Dexter became lost in the orgasm as he ejaculated over and over. He finally came to his senses almost a minute later. The door was slathered with cum, which was dripping and pooling on the floor. How was he going to clean all that up? His dick was still half hard. Wondering how he would stuff it back in his pants, he reached down to pull them up, and saw his legs. His quads looked muscular! And big! It was only a couple of days ago doing leg presses that he noticed how crazy strong they had become. The silence surrounding him reminded Dexter that he was late to class. With some effort, he stuffed himself into his pants, used fistfuls of paper towels to clean his cum off the stall door and floor, and rushed off to gym class. Jed was the first person dressed and ready for class. Today's class was about proper bench press technique. It was a valuable exercise, but if done wrong could lead to shoulder problems. The teacher, Mr. Greer, asked Jed to demonstrate proper technique and then spot other students as they demonstrated theirs. Jed demonstrated first with just the bar to show perfect technique. To show how things can go wrong, Mr. Greer asked Jed to do additional sets progressively adding more and more weight. Jed started with 25 lbs. on either side, which was still easy for him. He then put 45-pound weights on either side for a total of 135 lbs., not his max, but definitely something he could feel. Jed did a full set of 10 as Mr. Greer pointed out how Jed was still maintaining proper form despite the fact that he was working harder to move the weights. "Are you up to push yourself further?" Mr. Greer asked Jed. "Of course, Mr. Greer. Let's go to 185." Pleaser, Mr. Greer added a 25 lb. plate to either side of the bar. Jed took a deep breath and pushed the bar upward. He proceeded to execute 7 repetitions, the last two of which were a little shaky. Mr. Greer pointed out how Jed's form started to loosen as he reached the end of the set. "Let's go up a little more, Jed. Just for a couple of reps to show the class why it's smart to be aware of your limits. I'll spot you. You'll be safe." Mr. Greer put 10 lbs on either side of the bar bringing the total weight to 195 lbs. Jed wasn't very worried. He had maxed at this level before. He took another deep breath and pushed the bar upwards. Be lowered the bar to his chest and could feel his form loosening. His back was arching slightly, his elbows shaking a little as he slowly thrust the weight up to complete his first rep. He lowered the bar again and struggled through a second rep. Mr. Greer started to say, "That's enough, Jed", but Jed lowered the bar for a third rep. As it touched his chest, he knew he made a mistake. He struggled with all his might, but the bar raised only a few inches before Mr. Greer grabbed the bar and re-racked it. "That is a great demonstration, class, of why you do not want to push yourself too far." Mr. Greer looked across the room to the door. "Ah. Dexter. So kind of you to join us. Perhaps you should be next to show the class your technique on the bench." Jed looked over and saw Dexter in the doorway of the gym. He was wearing an oversized tee shirt and shorts. Jed thought his forearms looked oddly thick. So did his calves. Mr. Greer turned to Jed. "Jed", Mr. Greer said, "why don't you spot Dexter while I observe." Jed responded, "Yes, sure, I'll spot." Dammit. Dexter had arrived at just the wrong time. He was hoping to avoid attention at today's class. Instead, he was about to go second behind Jed in a class demonstration. To Dexter's dismay, Mr. Greer asked Jed to spot. Jed agreed quickly, but Dexter thought his voice sounded shaky somehow. Dexter actually loved lifting weights. His muscles had grown so much over the past couple of months, it was insane. On top of which, bench was one of his favorites. His pecs always pumped incredibly from a good chest workout. They actually felt pumped right now as did his entire body from the strenuous activities of the bathroom just a few minutes ago. Dexter tried to ignore the fact that Jed would be his spotter and took his place on the bench. They started with just the bar. God, it was so light. Dexter complete 10 repetitions like it was nothing. When he started a couple months ago, even just the bar was pushing it for him. Things were so different now. "Ok, that was obviously too easy for Dex. Slow down son! And keep your form tight. Let's throw on some 25's." Jed put 25 lbs. on either side of the bar bringing the weight to 95 lbs. Dexter knew it would be easy. He completed 10 steady reps with barely any effort. He could feel his pecs and arms beginning to swell. "Looking good, son." Mr. Greer said. "Let's go up to 45's." Dexter was surprised. Mr. Greer had never jumped him up so quickly. Jed replaced the 25's with 45's and took his place behind the bench. Dexter wrapped his hands around the bar. A couple weeks ago, this was his max weight. He pushed upward lifting the bar off the rack rather easily. He steadied the weight and then lowered it to his chest. It felt light! He pressed it up with relative ease. God, he'd gotten strong. He completed nine more repetitions without struggling at all. "Wow, son, these weights have worked wonders on you, haven't they? Think you're ready to jump right to 185?" Dexter started to say, "I don't know..." but was interrupted by Mr. Greer. "Sure, you are. You'll be fine." Wordlessly, Jed added 25 lb. weights to either side of the bar. 185 lbs. was a lot for Dexter. In fact, it was his max lift from last week. He had managed only three shaky repetitions. But he felt good. His pecs felt full and pumped. He grabbed the bar and without hesitation lifted it off the rack. It didn't feel as heavy as last week. He lowered it to his chest and fearing it might get stuck there immediately tried to push it back up. It moved! Fast! Before he knew it, his arms were fully extended. Fuck, that was a lot easier than last week! He lowered the bar and did another easy repetition. Then a third and a fourth and a fifth. He slowed down on the sixth and perhaps a little more on the 7th. He was suddenly conscious that the entire class was watching him. He'd forgotten this was a class demo. He still felt he could do more reps, but before he could move, Jed racked the weight, keeping Dexter from attempting an 8th rep. He immediately felt blood surge to his chest. The pump felt amazing. "Very good son! What progress! Let's keep going. Another 10 on each side, Jed." There was a beat where Jed froze, but then he started mechanically loading the additional weight. "I don't know if..." Dexter began. "You can, son" Mr. Greer interrupted. Jed finished and took his place behind the bench. Dexter gripped the bar, took a deep breath, and pushed against the bar. It lifted off the rack. It did feel heavy. He took another breath and lowered it to his pumped swollen chest. He let it rest there just a moment and then pushed with all his might. He felt his pecs, shoulders, and triceps bulge with the effort. The bar went up! He completed a rep. It felt good. He lowers the bar for a second rep. His muscles surged upward for another successful rep, faster than the first, which he completed with a grunt. It escaped his lips before he realized it. Fuck, I can do another, he thought. He lowered the bar for a third rep. His chest felt hot. He could feel he was starting to sweat. He pushed the bar up and with another somewhat louder grunt completed the rep even faster than the second. That was three! He paused with the bar raised, panting. Sweat was beading on his forehead, but he still felt strong. He was about to lower the bar for a fourth repetition when he felt it pulled away from him. Jed had grabbed the bar and re-racked it. "Well, class, that was some textbook form even up to the end. I suspect we could push Dexter further, but we'll let him off the hook for today. Very well done, Dexter. Very well done indeed." Still on the bench, Dexter looked up at Mr. Greer who was beaming. Dexter lifted himself off the bench and slowly stood up. His eyes reached the angle they were used to seeing the world when Dexter was fully standing and then continued to rise, just a little bit. Everything seemed lower, smaller, including Mr. Greer. Dexter was looking down into his eyes. Weren't he and Mr. Greer the same height? "Thank you, Mr. Gr--” Dexter’s voice cracked. He could feel his face flush with embarrassment. He could also feel his chest, shoulders and arms filling with blood, his muscles swelling. His gym shirt was feeling tighter with each passing moment. "Thank you very much, Mr. Greer." Dexter finished. Did his voice sound deeper? "Alright, son, go ahead and finish your workout" Mr. Greer said, placing his hand on Dexter's shoulder. Dexter thought Mr. Greer's hand looked small on his shoulder, which was pumping with blood and clearly muscular under his tee shirt. "I will", Dexter responded in what to his ears sounded like an obviously deeper version of his voice. "Let's thank Jed for being a good sport about spotting." Mr. Greer offered. He and the rest of the class clapped politely. Dexter turned to look at Jed. Dexter found that he was looking Jed level in the eye. Something must be wrong -- the floor must not be level. Jed is way taller than him. Dexter raised his hands to join the clapping and felt the tightness of his tee shirt around his arms. Jed's eyes were everywhere but on Dexter, though Dexter thought he seemed nervous somehow. "Ok, let's find our next victim..." Mr. Greer continued the lesson. Dexter pulled up the lower half of his tee shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead, and then melted into the crowd making his way to the chest press machine to continue his workout. He definitely needed to continue working out. His pecs felt incredible. Dexter looked down at himself and observed how his pecs protruded from his chest like a shelf. He flexed and watched them ripple and bulge under his shirt. Jed watched Dexter take his place on the bench. From this perspective, Jed could not help but notice the bulges of Dexter's body even under his oversized clothing. The way his shorts draped over his legs; it was clear his quads were huge with separated musculature. Not to mention the bulge of his cock. There was a softball sized dome that caused his shorts to stretch and pucker. Jed quickly moved his eyes elsewhere, but things got no better. Dexter's pecs, shoulders, and arms looked big, way bigger than Jed would ever have thought possible. Jed tried to keep his face blank as he watched Dexter do ten reps with the bar like it was nothing. The 25's on each side barely changed things. The domes of Dexter's pecs bulged with each far-too-easy-looking repetition. When Mr. Greer suggested moving to 45's, Jed started to dread what was about to happen. Dexter completed 10 perfect reps at 135 lbs., his muscles swelling just a bit more with each contraction. Jed notices that, while Dexter was working, he had a look of absolute pleasure on his face, snapping back to reality only after the bar was re-racked. Jed was trying to think of a way to stop this, to get Dexter off the bench, when Mr. Greer suggested Dexter move up to 185 lbs. Recognizing that he missed his chance, Jed added a 25 to each side of the bar. Jed remembered seeing Dexter struggle to do a single rep with this weight last week. He was completely shocked to see Dexter push the weight off the rack like it was his normal work weight. Dexter did his first rep so easily that it appeared to surprise Dexter himself as much as it did Jed. Dexter proceeded to pump out six more reps, each perfect, his pecs swelling more and more, muscled rippling under his shirt, veins starting to become visible under the reddening skin of his forearms and neck. His seventh rep was as perfect as his first, if a bit slower. Then Dexter paused for some reason. Jed seized the opportunity to rack the weight. Jed knew he struggled more with that weight than Dexter just did -- in front of the entire class. Jed wanted this to end but didn't know how to end it. When Mr. Greer suggested to go to 195 lbs., it felt like a nightmare coming true. He could think of nothing to do, so he added the weight. Dexter grabbed the bar, pushed it off the rack, and proceed to do a solid repetition with it -- a weight that Jed knew Dexter couldn't even lift at all last week. The grunt Dexter released at the completion of his second rep caused Jed to feel something... it made him nervous. The louder grunt during the third successful rep almost caused Jed to jump. Dexter's eyes were half rolled back in pleasure. When Dexter paused for just a moment to catch his breath, Jed did the only thing he could do, grab the bar and re-rack the weight. Jed knew just as much as Mr. Greer did that Dexter could have kept going. Then Dexter stood up, and up, and up, until Jed thought he almost had to look up to meet Dexter's eyes, not that he wanted to do that. When Dexter started talking, his voice sounded more husky than squeaky, and then it cracked, and when Dexter started talking again, Jed swore Dexter's voice sounded deeper. An anxiety started growing in Jed's mind. Things got worse when Mr. Greer thanked Jed for spotting and Dexter turned towards him. Jed made a point to stretch to his full height as Dexter turned. Jed found his eyes were at best level with Dexter's. The globes of Dexter's pecs and shoulders were stretching his gym shirt. Jed may have said something in response to Mr. Greer's thanks or he may not have. When Dexter pulled up his shirt to wipe his face, he revealed a deep 8-pack of abs. The move also highlighted the way his low-hanging short were draped over the giant bulges of his quad muscles and crotch. Jed tried to unfocus his eyes, to look away, but he could not help but follow Dexter as he tried to disappear into the class. Jed was watching as Dexter flexed his pecs causing them to swell obscenely, rippling and filling his oversized shirt. Dexter felt amazing. He realized his gym shirt, which was absolutely huge on him just a couple of weeks ago, was now almost too tight. He could not stop flexing his pecs feeling them fill and stretch the shirt. He jumped on the pec deck machine and alternated sets on the machine with sets of push-ups. He quickly worked his way up to his max weight from last week and then blew past it by forty pounds. The unweighted push-ups were almost too easy, but they did serve to pump his chest to a level he never thought possible. He then moved to the cables and felt his pecs swell even further. He looked down and saw deep ridges where his upper pecs bulged from his rib cage. With each fly maneuver, his pecs and lats pulsed outward pulling his shirt tight. Dexter then moved to the dip station. He ripped through two sets of unweighted reps like they were nothing. He grabbed his weight belt and hooked 10 lbs. to it. Another set of dips. He added another 10. Another set of dips. He was starting to feel it. He added a third 10 bringing the total to 30 lbs. He proceeded to do three sets with thirty pounds of additional weight. He still felt strong, so he did a final set with a single 45 lb. plate. Fuck it felt good. Dexter realized he was lost in the feeling of it. Was he grunting? He finally looked up and saw that the class was beginning to file out of the gym. Mr. Greer waved to him, "C'mon Dex. That's all for today. You don't want to bust out of your clothes, now do you?" he asked with a smile. Dexter laughed somewhat uncomfortably and shouted back, "No Mr. Greer. Of course not." The deep voice that emanated from Dexter sounded in his ears like someone else's. The way a few class members looked back at him made him think that maybe it really was deeper. Dexter lowered his eyes and trailed the rest of the class out of the gym. He was struck again by the shelf of his pecs. He briefly flexed his upper body as he walked, pecs, lats, shoulders, biceps, and triceps. Was that a rip he just heard from his shirt? The rest of the class was a waking nightmare for Jed. Though he tried not to look, he found his eyes continually coming back to Dexter who proceeded to move more weight than Jed had ever seen him move -- in some cases more weight than Jed could probably move. Dexter's muscles bulged while he was exercised, but they bulged even more in between sets as he flexed them brazenly. Dexter was also suddenly not shy about grunting, which he did especially when he was clearly pushing past a previous max weight. What is more, his grunts did not sound right. They were too deep. The squeak in Dexter's voice was gone. Each grunt sounded deeper than the last to Jed. When he grunted during his last set of dips, with 45 lbs. of additional weight, it was so deep that Jed's brain would not accept that it came from Dexter. The rest of the class seemed to notice as well, especially when Dexter responded to Mr. Greer in a baritone that left little doubt that something had changed. Jed was somewhat relieved when Dexter lowered his eyes to follow the class from the gym. But, looking back, he caught glimpses of Dexter flexing his muscles as he walked. At the peak of the flex, Jed swore he heard fabric tearing. Jed hurried to the locker room. He wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. He had spent the entire class spotting other student. He hadn't broken a sweat and did not need to rinse off, Jed decided. He quickly changed into his regular clothes, hoping nobody would notice that he was rushing. Dexter walked in as Jed was about to leave. Jed watched transfixed as Dexter, his eyes still on the floor, stopped in front of his locker, his back to the rest of the class, and flexed again. He expanded his entire upper body -- lats, shoulders, pecs, triceps, and biceps. Jed watched Dexter's lats expand outwards like wings, his shoulders bulged bigger than softballs. Despite the background noise of a full class of students in a changing room, Jed was sure this time he heard Dexter's shirt rip, the sound of which was echoing in Jed's mind as he exited the changing room. Dexter proceeded directly to his locker in the changing room. His body still felt amazing from the workout. He did not look up to see if anyone was paying attention to him. He thought nobody was. He stopped in front of his locker and engaged on one more flex. He could feel every muscle, especially his pecs and triceps, but thought it was his lats that caused his shirt to rip even before he was fully flexed. The ripping sound broke his trance. He aborted the flex before it caused visible damage to his shirt, if it hadn't already. Dexter thought it was a good thing he jerked off just before gym class. Otherwise, he would be getting hard. Dexter had sweat quite a bit during his workout and knew he needed a shower. He grabbed his change of clothes and a towel and entered an empty shower stall. He did not like changing in front of people, so he brought everything into the stall with him, despite the fact that it usually resulted in his putting on his clothes while he was still wet. Removing his shirt in the stall, which was much more confining than Dexter remembered, proved problematic. The sweat soaked short got stuck on his lats and shoulders as he tried to pull it over his head. It was a struggle, and he was sure he heard a rip before he got it off. He looked down at his body, which to him was bulging with muscle. He removed his shorts, turned on the hot water, and began running his hands over his body. Everything felt huge. There was muscle everywhere, especially his pecs, which looked like they were ready to leap from his chest. Fuck, he was going to get hard. He felt his cock swell and stiffen. In moments, it was fully extended pointed straight up. He looked down at his deeply carved abs, comparatively narrow waist, and his extremally large cock and lost control of himself. One hand on his cock, the other steadying against the wall of the stall, he started stroking himself. He could not help it. He hoped he was being quiet. In seconds he exploded like he had in the bathroom, spurt after spurt of his cum splashing against the tiled wall. So much cum that it ran in rivulets down the wall, gathering speed with the shower water, and finally running down the drain. Dexter finally came to his senses enough to finish showering. He took his time to flex each muscle and feel it bulge in his hands. Then came a knock against the stall. "Is that you, Dexter?" It was Mr. Greer. "Better hurry up. The bell is about to ring." "Ok, will do" Dexter responded in a baritone voice that he could still not accept was his own. He turned off the water, dried himself quickly, and then set to dressing in the clothes he had walked in here wearing. It proved much more difficult than he had anticipated. The previously oversized sweatshirt barely fit over his bulging shoulders, pecs, and arms. His pants were even worse. His cock did not want to fully deflate, on top of which he was having a tough time pulling the pant legs over his quads. The fact that his skin was not fully dry only made things worse. The bell rang just as he finally finished dressing. He burst from the stall to find Mr. Greer waiting for him. Dexter found he was looking down at Mr. Greer's eyes. They both seemed taken aback. "Alright, Dex, better make your way to lunch. You don't want to be caught in the halls." "I'll head straight there, Mr. Greer", Dexter responded in his deepening voice. "You really seem to have an aptitude for lifting, Dex" Mr. Greer said, subtly scanning Dexter from head to toe. "You may want to consider a career in the fitness industry." Dexter looked down at himself, conscious of the way his previously baggy sweatshirt was now stretched over his upper body. "Thanks, Mr. Greer. Maybe I will." Dexter suddenly realized he was starving. He practically ran to the lunchroom. Jed thought he felt people's eyes following him as he walked the halls. He reached his locker. No Cindy. He threw his gym clothes inside and headed towards the cafeteria, bracing himself for what he might find there. Sure enough, Cindy was there. She was already seated at a table with food surrounded by her friends. The sight of her stopped Jed in his tracks. She and he locked eyes for half a heartbeat, then she looked away. Her friends noticed Jed and proceeded to huddle around Cindy like they were protecting her from an attacker. Jed was blocking an entrance to the cafeteria and people started pushing around him. He thought he heard Dexter's name floating amongst the chatter in the hallway behind him. "...you seen Dexter today?... huge!... ripped his shirt..." Jed spotted a couple of his friends in line for food. They ended up at their usual table. His friends were peppering him with questions, not just about Cindy, but also Dexter. They heard about gym class. Jed wouldn't say anything. Cindy, only at the far end of the next table over wouldn't even look in his direction. Finally, she did look towards him, but not at him. She was looking past him to the entrance to the cafeteria. Dexter was entering the room, eyes on the floor, almost jogging towards the line for food. The line was short by the time Dexter got there. He kept grabbing food, plate after plate of it, piled precariously high on his tray. It looked like at least three helpings of everything. He threw some money at the cashier then hurried off to his corner table with a handful of other misfits. They might have said a few words to him, but Dexter tore into his food shoveling mouthful after mouthful into his mouth. Jed wasn't sure why, but it was making him anxious watching Dexter wolf down all that food. Bite after bite after bite. Jed looked down at his own barely eaten plate of food and suddenly realized he had no appetite. His anxiety grew into something closer to abstract fear as he watched Dexter spend the next half hour shoveling plate after plate of food into his mouth, his jaw muscles working efficiently and furiously. People started filing out. Lunch was almost over. The entire senior class had to meet in the assembly room for a presentation about graduation. Jed's friends got up to leave and he followed them. As he was exiting the cafeteria, he looked back to see Dexter finishing his lunch by chugging an entire bottle of water in one unbroken gulp. Food! Every step towards the cafeteria caused Dexter's hunger to increase. It reached an overwhelming crescendo just as he reached the front of the cafeteria line. Everything looked so good, and he was so hungry. He piled so much food on his tray, he wasn't sure how much was there. He just hoped it would be enough. The cashier charged him for three full meals, a price Dexter gladly paid. He raced to his corner table where he and the other unpopular kids ate together. They might not be all friends, but they were at least friendly to each other. Not that any of that mattered to Dexter in the current moment. All he wanted to do was eat this food, which he did as soon as he took his seat. For the next half hour, all he could think about was shoveling the food down his throat. He had never been so hungry! He was used to his workouts increasing his appetite, but this was more than he had ever experienced. His body wanted every bite, every morsel of food that he had taken - three Salisbury steaks, a mountain of mashed potato, and piles of steamed vegetables. All of it was overcooked, but he didn't care. His body craved it. When he was finally finished, he up-ended his bottle of water and drank it all down. Dexter realized the rest of the kids at his table were staring at him. The expressions on their faces were somewhat inscrutable. The girls were looking at him in a way that confused Dexter. "What? I was hun..." His voice cracked again. "I was hungry", he finished in what might have been an even deeper version of his voice. "Obviously" one of the guys said. "Well, you've got muscles to feed" one of the girls started, "or so we've... heard." Her eyes were glued to Dexter's chest. "What?" Dexter said, suddenly feeling drowsy. "I've gotta go. We've got an assembly." "Did his voice always sound like that?" he thought he heard a girl ask as Dexter rose from the table, leaving his tray and stack of plates behind, and made his way towards the assembly room. The halls were a blur. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was sleep. Also, his sweatshirt was too tight. It was catching under his armpits and at his chest and he could feel it squeezing his upper arms. He flexed his biceps watching as the peak stretched the sweatshirt to its limit. He finally made it to the assembly room, which was more than half full by the time he got there. There were empty seats up front. He took one near the corner where it was darkest, propped his head on his hand, and melted into sleep. Jed spotted Cindy seated near the middle of the assembly room, flanked by her friends on either side. The seats behind her were empty. Jed pushed his way through the crowd of students and took the seat directly behind her. A few of Jed's friends filtered in his row after him. From this angle, Jed had a perfect view of Cindy's amazing tits jutting almost arrogantly from her chest. She was wearing a tiny top that hugged her fit body in all the right ways. Several inches of well-toned abs were exposed above her tight jeans. She had no right to ignore him. Jed leaned forward and started to say, "You can't ignore me, you..." but before could get it out, Cindy leapt from her seat and stepping over her friends moved almost to the end of her row as far as she could quickly get from Jed. Jed was considering stepping over his friends to get to her when he saw Dexter walk down the far aisle. He passed by Cindy and took a seat near the front, not far from her. Jed watched as Dexter sat and quickly passed out. Jed also noticed two other things. One, he noticed that Dexter's shoulders were a lot wider than his seat back. Two, he noticed that Cindy was also watching Dexter. In fact, she was staring. She was erect in her seat, back arched, stretching to get a better view. Her chest was heaving slightly, her breasts silhouetted in prominent display. Jed was vaguely aware that the assembly presentations had begun. As they droned, the minutes dragged on and on and on. Cindy barely looked away from Dexter. When she did, it appeared as if she was forcing her eyes forward like she was fighting with herself to look away. Each time she did, within moments she was back staring at Dexter. She never once looked back at Jed. Who the fuck did she think she was? She could not treat him this way. Dexter slept through the entire assembly. He shifted every few minutes, the stadium style seating not designed for comfortable sleep. With each repositioning, Jed thought Dexter looked less comfortable, not more, like his body was struggling to fit inside a space too small for it. Dexter stretched in his sleep reaching his arms upward. Jed noticed that there was exposed wrist between the end of Dexter's sweatshirt sleeves and his hands. The assembly proceeded tortuously, Jed's gaze alternating between Dexter and Cindy. Finally, the assembly was over, and the bell rang. Dexter did not stir. Cindy did, the bell seeming to wake her from a reverie. She finally did look back at Jed. Anxiety spread over her previously serene expression. She jumped from her seat and made swiftly for the doors at the back of the assembly room. This time, Jed did step over his friends to follow her. Shoving his way through the crowd, he caught her in the hall outside. Furious, he grabbed her arm and spun her around. She was panting, her breasts rising and falling with each respiration. Her trim abs, tones arms, and shapely athletic legs were evident even through her jeans. Jed's voice caught in his throat for a moment, but he mastered himself and practically yelled, "What the fuck, Cindy? You can't treat me like this. Who the fuck do you think you are??" She did not say a word but glared at him. Suddenly, her eyes widened. She looked past and over Jed, her expression changing from one of anger to one of amazement. Jed felt something behind him. Without looking, he felt he knew what -- who -- it was. Dexter woke slowly from what was a pleasant dreamless slumber. His body felt relaxed. He stood to stretch, bumping his knees on the seat on front of him. Like earlier today, his visual perspective went up and up, past where it was yesterday, still up, past where it was this morning, still up, past even where it was when he fell asleep! He reached for a full stretch and was conscious of his sweatshirt riding up his mid-section, his hands stretching past the ends of the sleeves. He felt cool air around his ankles and looking down noted that his pants did not reach his shoes. His jeans, formerly baggy, were stretched over his calves and even more so over his thighs. Neither his jeans nor sweatshirt were tight at his waist, but when he lowered his arms, he felt the sweatshirt bunch around his chest leaving most of his med-section exposed. He pulled the sweatshirt down and found it would not reach his waist. In fact, it could barely contain his upper body, the globes of his shoulders, twin domes of his pecs, and thick full lats all strained against the nearly over-matched fabric of the sweatshirt. Dexter flexed slightly watched his pecs dance, the sweatshirt clinging to them in a way not wholly different from how Cindy's top clung to her breasts. Dexter was suddenly aware that his cock felt constricted. He looked down and beheld a truly massive bulge at his crotch on obscene display despite his jeans. Dexter looked around and noticed the last of the class leaving the assembly room. They all looked smaller. Everything looked smaller. He followed them outside to find a crowd of students huddled around something. He continued to stride forward and was surprised that the people in his path, when they noticed him, looked at him, looked up at him, and moved quickly out of his way. Dexter found himself walking up behind Jed who seemed to be in an altercation with a furious looking Cindy. As Dexter approached, Cindy locked eyes with him, her expression changing instantly from one of fury to one of eagerness. As he got closer, Dexter realized he was taller than Jed now. Dexter closed the gap coming within inches of Jed, able to look completely over Jed's head to Cindy and the gawking crowd beyond. Jed turned around and found himself staring at what had become his worst nightmare -- Dexter. His eyes were level with Dexter's mouth. Jed's chin was practically resting on a shelf of pec muscle that was so big and perfectly formed as to be almost inhuman. It rose and fell with each of Dexter's slow calm breaths. When Dexter spoke, Jed knew his life was changed forever. "Leaver Cindy alone, Jed." Dexter said in a deep confident voice, which reverberated in Jed's own chest nearly knocking the wind out of him. Dexter was huge! Neither his sweatshirt nor his jeans could hide the protruding muscles beneath. His sleeves, stretched over his muscled arms, did not reach his hands. The gap between Dexter's sweatshirt and jeans revealed inches of muscled abs. Dexter's jeans struggled to contain the immense bulges of Dexter's quads and the obscene bulge at his crotch. Jed, struggling with a growing abject terror, thought that with each breath, Dexter grew a bit more. Soon, his clothes would split revealing a horrifically muscled body. Jed became frantic. His fight instinct kicked in. He panted a foot behind himself, then thrust off it to tackle Dexter to the floor. The collision may have hurt Jed more than it hurt Dexter! Dexter's mid-section was hard as a rock! Whether Dexter was surprised by the attack or simply did not care, Dexter went down with Jed on top of him in a classic school-boy pin, straddling Dexter with his hands on Dexter's wrists to trap his arms. "Fuck you, Dexter! You stay away from us!" There was a brief moment of silence. "Fuck me?" Dexter responded. A smile crept over his face. "Fuck me?" Dexter slowly bent his arms in a double bicep flex. Jed tried to stop him, but found he was easily overpowered. Dexter barely seemed to notice Jed's strained effort. Dexter's upper arms expanded, his bicep peaks pushing against the fabric of his sweatshirt. Halfway through the flex, his sweatshirt began to rip over his emerging biceps. "Fuck me? No Jed." Dexter completed his flex, the entirety of his biceps ripping into view. They were massive and defined with peaks that jutted so high they met with Dexter's mid-forearms at full flex. The sleeves of Dexter's sweatshirt were in tatters. "Fuck you!" Dexter exclaimed as he flipped Jed over as easily as an older brother might toy with a younger sibling, reversing the school-boy pin leaving Dexter on top and Jed on the bottom. "Fuck you, Jed!" Then Dexter's expression changed, a pleasure seeming to wash over it, his eyes rolling back, his eyelids fluttering. Holy Fuck, Dexter was so much stronger than Jed! Jed couldn't do anything to stop him! Jed's pathetic attempt to stop Dexter's bicep flex was barely even noticed! Then, he flipped Jed over like it was nothing! Dexter looked down at Jed cowering beneath him, Dexter's hugely muscled arms flexing and swelling as they held Jed easily and firmly in place. Dexter knew his weight was more than enough to keep Jed's waist pinned to the floor. Dexter could feel the violent bulge of his massive cock pressing into Jed's comparatively soft and yielding stomach. Dexter was so fucking strong! It felt so fucking good! Dexter's cock started to expand, his bulge pressing deeply into Jed's stomach, which yielded before it. Dexter was getting hard, and he didn't even care. His cock bulged more deeply into Jed's stomach. Dexter's cock grew and lengthened, stretching his underwear to its limit. Dexter heard a ripping sound and felt his cock thrust through his underwear and snake down his leg, inexorably making room for itself between Dexter's massive quadricep and Jed's waist. It grew and grew and grew. Dexter was lost in the pleasure of it. He did not even notice the look of abject horror that spread across Jed's face or Jed's frantic attempts to escape. Without realizing it, Dexter began thrusting himself against Jed sending waves of pleasure throughout Dexter's own body. Jed felt something pressing into his stomach and looked down to see Dexter's massive bulge, pressed against him, growing obscenely. Vainly struggling to escape, Jed watched in horror as Dexter's bulge grew and grew. Jed heard the ripping sound of Dexter's underwear and felt Dexter's massive penis expand against his waist. Then, Dexter started thrusting against him! "Get off me! Get off me!!" Jed screamed, flailing violently in a desperate attempt to escape, whose only effect was causing Dexter's pec and arm muscles to flex and bulge as they easily hold Jed in place. Dexter kept thrusting. Jed was about to scream again when Cindy suddenly appeared alongside Dexter. Dexter was snapped to consciousness by a gentle touch on his shoulder and the scent of perfume reaching his nose. Dexter's head whipped to his side to see Cindy crouching beside him, one hand on his shoulder. Her breasts were heaving. A tiny bead of sweat rolled down her neck, then gathering speed, plunged between her more than ample breasts. "Dexter", she said breathlessly. Dexter's eyes were drawn to her nipples, which were suddenly very visible beneath her thin clothing, "Leave him. Let's get out of here. C'mon. Let's go!" Dexter looked down at Jed, who looked absolutely terrified. His eyes were darting from Dexter to Cindy and back. Dexter had Jed by the wrists. Dexter squeezed. His forearms, biceps, and triceps bulged incredibly, his corded forearm muscles, peaked biceps, and striated triceps standing out in bold relief. Jed squealed in pain. Cindy pulled on Dexter's shoulder, and he let her drag him to his feet. She took his hand and led Dexter swiftly down the hall and out the main entrance of the school. Nobody tried to stop them. She ran straight for her car motioning for Dexter to get in the passenger seat. It was a tight fit. Dexter's head nearly brushed up against the roof. Cindy started the car and sped away. She drove out to the main road and followed it for just a minute to the parking lot of a local church, which was unused at this time of day. She pulled around back where there was some relative privacy, shut off the car, and turned to face Dexter. She was panting slightly, her unbelievable breasts, barely contained by her top which seemed painted on, filled Dexter's vision. "Dexter", she said, "You stood up to Jed to protect me." "Of course, I did", Dexter responded in his new baritone, "I would do anything for you." She leapt at him, and they proceeded to devour each other in an overwhelming fit of passion. Dexter had never kissed like this before. Their hands and lips and tongues were all over each other. A metallic creak drew their attention to Dexter's cock, which had just surged, destroying the zipper of his jeans. "Holy fuck" Cindy exclaimed and then ripped Dexter's jeans open in one motion. She extricated Dexter's hardening cock from his tattered underwear and held it as it grew, lengthening and thickening and lengthening inch by inch until it stood straight up, erect, nearly a foot long and still growing. "Oh my god", she breathed as she leaned forward and plunged Dexter's massive erection into her mouth. The moment her lips touched his cock, Dexter experienced a feeling he never had before. Cindy moaned scandalously as she slurped furiously at his dick. It barely fit inside her mouth, but she forced her head downward until Dexter's cock was thrust down her throat. Dexter would have cum instantly had he not done so twice already since he arrived at school. Cindy's head bobbed up and down, Dexter's cock continuing to swell. At the top of each motion, Cindy's head was a fraction higher until Dexter's cock had, reaching its full height and girth, lengthened by inches and become so thick it was impossibly tight inside Cindy's hungry moaning mouth. Cinder broke from Dexter and set to desperately ripping her clothes off. In the blink of an eye, she was out of her top. Her breasts finally set free appeared to float in midair. Her nipples were as erect as Dexter's penis and were every bit as impressive. She then quickly but with some difficulty peeled off her jeans, which caught on her shapely athletic thighs. Her panties came off as well, exposing her trimmed pussy, the inviting smell of which immediately wafted to Dexter's nose. In one graceful movement, she straddled Dexter. With each hand, she grabbed a handful of Dexter's tattered sweatshirt and ripped it fully apart exposing Dexter's insanely muscled torso. She then thrust her boob in Dexter's face. Instinctively, Dexter took her erect nipple in his mouth and sucked. Cindy released a full-throated moan of pleasure as her nipple expanded to full prominence wrapped in the warmth of Dexter's lips. She positioned her now dripping pussy against the head of Dexter's tremendous cock. She paused for just a moment, then thrust herself downward, and Dexter was inside of her. Cindy's second full-throated moan was joined by an equally full-throated, but much deeper one, from Dexter. Dexter's grips on Jed's wrists were like vices. Then he squeezed sending lancing pain through Jed's arms. The cry of pain escaped Jed's lips involuntarily. He thought his bones may have snapped. Then Dexter was gone, being led down the hallway by Cindy. Half the crowd was watching them go, while the other half looked down at Jed with a mixture of pity and horror. The only thing Jed knew was that he needed to get out of there. Now knowing where else to go, he leapt up and raced after Dexter and Cindy. He burst from the main entrance just as Cindy was closing the door of her car behind her. He could see Dexter's massive bulk in the passenger seat. Like he was caught in a nightmare, Jed ran to his car, jumped inside, and raced after Cindy and Dexter to the church parking lot. They did not notice him pull up nearby. He saw everything. He saw Cindy and Dexter kissing passionately. He saw Cindy rip off Dexter's clothing and her own. He saw her bury her head in Dexter's lap, her head momentarily disappearing, then bobbing into view, up and down, higher each time, until at the low point of her motion it almost looked from Jed's vantage point like she was kissing the rim of the car door, then bobbing upward revealing inch after inch of Dexter's massive cock visible over the door's rim. Jed's jaw dropped as Cindy, in one graceful maneuver, positioned herself over Dexter's erect penis and then thrust herself downward, taking all of it inside herself. The next five minutes were filled with the most furious sex Jed had ever beheld. They fucked like wild animals to the soundtrack of Cindy's melodious moans and Dexter's terrifying deep ones. The two of them completely filled the passenger seat of Cindy's car, which was bouncing up and down with the dangerous fury of a streetcar that has careened off-road at full speed. Cindy and Dexter were bracing themselves with their hands against the car door and ceiling. Amidst their moans and grunts and the squealing of the car's shocks and brakes, Jed thought he heard the creaking of metal. He thought he saw the roof of the car and the passenger door buckle outward where Cindy and Dexter were bracing themselves. After the most interminable five minutes of Jed's life, Cindy and Dexter came together, the pair of them roaring in unison for almost another minute. Finally, it was over. Cindy collapsed on Dexter's massive, muscled form, their panting subsiding into the deep slow breathing reserved for those who have just experienced ultimate physical bliss. Jed, overwhelmed, broke into tears, turned his car around, and sped away, sobbing...

Sometimes, it pays to be an only child. It was Christmas morning and I was twelve years old. I crept down to the living room before my parents were even remotely ready to wake up. I knew the deal about Santa and my parents knew I was fully informed, but we all were hanging onto the image of a jolly old St. Nick bringing me presents. None of us wanted my childhood to end. There, spread out on the carpet in the living room, were all my gifts from the man in the red suit. Right away, I could see that I had gotten everything I asked for. I saw the electric keyboard, the set of weights, and the stethoscope next to a few books on medicine and the body. Never in my wildest dreams did I think my next action could lay the foundation for what was to come for the rest of my life – but we seldom know that, do we? ******* Les Les dropped the dumbbell on the padded flooring with a light thud. He then looked in the mirror in front of him Damn, he looked huge, today. Les glanced around the gym – to make sure he was the biggest guy around. He smiled at his own reflected face when he confirmed that he was. He remembered some words uttered in total amazement by his trick from last night. The guy’s mouth had dropped open as Les flexed and all the dude could say was ‘watermelon biceps.’ Les had liked that description. For the life of him, Les couldn’t remember the guy’s name . . . and he had only left his hotel room less than two hours ago. Mark? Marcus? Aurelius? It could have even been Fred for all Les knew. The guy had merely been a means to an end. A very enjoyable, explosive end, at that. Les had been pleased with the generous pickings at the club, last night. He hadn’t even taken his phone out once to see if Grindr was offering better options. His conquest had been handsome and muscular – not nearly as big as Les – but big enough to make the evening pleasurable. And then to find out the dude had never bottomed, well that was like having a cherry on top . . . pun intended. It was clear Mr. Hot-for-a-Night had intended on being the dominant alpha last night, but that thought had come to a crashing end as soon as Les had removed his sweatshirt . . . which is also when the nickname ‘watermelon biceps’ had been born, as well. Les had loved watching the cockiness seep out of the guy like a helium balloon with a hole in it as he took in the huge hard body that had been somewhat disguised by the sweatshirt. What’s his name definitely knew he had hit the jackpot when Les had chosen him – he just hadn’t realized it was more like winning a nation-wide super lottery. Les could also still feel the incredible pleasure he had received while widening the man’s tight, untapped hole. The dude was going to find sitting to be a little painful, today – that was guaranteed. Damn, now Les was hard-as-hell, again – just from thinking of that virgin ass. This was good, though – since being excited would make him push his workout even harder than usual. As he picked up the dumbbell from the floor, a memory of lifting a much smaller one on Christmas morning at age twelve flashed through his mind. Man, had he grown since then. ********** Lester The fasten seatbelt sign illuminated, but Lester didn’t hear the accompanying announcement because he had on his state-of-the art, noise-cancelling headphones and was listening to the chanting Tibetan monks he had recorded in a cavernous mountain monastery over the last two weeks. The overly attentive flight attendant, with the bubble butt you could have rested a tray on, placed a hand softly on his shoulder and asked if Lester wanted anything else before the plane started to descend. The way the handsome guy emphasized the word ‘anything’ made Lester quite sure he could have easily entered the so called ‘mile high club’ if he had wanted to. Thoughts of Alessandro waiting in their upper east side condo made it quite easy for Lester to ignore the obvious advances from the attendant. Lester briefly wondered if the guy recognized him or if he was one of those guys that found Lester’s bad boy musician looks particularly appealing. Again, the anticipated reunion with Alessandro – his boyfriend of two and a half years – forced all other potential desires out of Lester’s mind. He stored his headphones back in his bag overhead and glanced around, finding most of first-class empty. It had been an easy flight and a successful trip – but he was happy to know he’d be able to sleep in his own bed that night in the arms of his hot, Italian, model boyfriend. Well, his soon to be hot, Italian, model fiancé. Lester instinctively checked his pocket to make sure the slight bulge from the black diamond ring in a velvet covered box was still there. He knew the cost of the ring was outrageous, but he also knew it would make Sandro gasp when he proposed. That would make it worth it. The quick secret trip to Bangkok from Tibet to have it designed and made had also been a little much, but Lester had enjoyed every minute of it because he knew how happy it would make his boyfriend. Thoughts returned to the chanting monks and the fact that Lester was overjoyed by the music he had already made for his latest gig. Scoring the soundtrack to what would surely be a gigantic Steven Spielberg masterpiece was so different from the numerous Disney animations and Marvel superhero movies he’d done over the last ten years. It was all good – especially because all of them paid so well – but doing something that might be seen by someone like . . . let’s say Stephen Fry instead of only children, teens, and Comic Con fans would be a welcome change. It might even lead to the so far elusive Oscar he had never won, even though he had been nominated four times. He still couldn’t believe a slightly tipsy evening of uploading songs he’d written for potential Disney-like films and played on the keyboard he had received for Christmas at twelve years old had gone so unbelievably viral that executives from the actual company had called this twenty-one, freshly graduated composer in for a job. The rest, as they say, was a bliss-filled memory. And that happiness had been capped off when he had met Alessandro at a friend's birthday party in Milan twenty-eight months before. Sudden thoughts of Sandro’s perfectly chiseled abs made Lester’s balls tighten, which brought a smile to his face. All of the work for this new movie had put a little stress on their relationship, but soon that would all be behind them. Lester knew marriage was the answer. He closed his eyes and concentrated on Sandro’s cobblestoned stomach. ********** Tag Lester ‘Tag’ Taggert had been asleep for only three minutes when the door to his office was opened and the light turned on. An apologetic nurse – with huge arms that threatened to tear the seams of his scrubs sleeves – told him the senator’s vitals were not looking good. Dr. Tag, as he was known throughout the hospital and beyond, quickly rose and followed Nurse Broad Shoulders to the extremely private room of one of the nation’s most senior . . . and respected . . . senators. Tag had expected this interruption or, more accurately, he had known it was a possibility. Slowing the drip and increasing oxygen immediately solved the problem. Hunky nurse stood nearby - amazed at how calmly and expertly the problem had been resolved. Dr. Tag thanked him for waking him – something most doctors would never do – and then explained a few things he wanted the nurse to do for the remainder of his shift to make sure all things went well for the senator. Tag was very impressed with the insightful questions asked by the nurse who could probably bench him a hundred times with no problem. Tag knew he was tired – that’s when he allowed his desires to take hold of him. He explained that he wanted to be awakened every two hours so he could check on his important patient. As the nurse replied that he would, Tag wanted to suggest he do it by laying on top of him and kissing his neck, but the required online harassment training that all hospital employees had been asked to take would have viewed that as risky behavior. At least, Tag was pretty sure it would. As he lay back down on the sofa in his office he let his mind wander back to the veiny biceps bursting out of the nurse’s sleeves. He allowed a quick right nipple pinch and then immediately forced his mind to focus on follow-up treatment for the senator tomorrow. The senator’s operation had been a huge secret and only about five employees of the hospital knew he was even there. No one was to ever discuss the operation, but the fact that Tag was one of the best heart specialists in the country left little to the imagination. Thoughts returning to biceps bigger than softballs made it clear that Tag was not going to sleep anytime soon – even though the operation had worn him out. He turned on a nearby lamp and looked over at the bookcase against the opposite wall. His eyes landed on the first anatomy book he ever owned – a gift from Santa when he was twelve – and he smiled. That thing had been like a trusted friend for many years – through college, medical school, all of his years of interning, and so much more. He also knew it had a note written by the love of his life – Ethan – on page forty-seven. That page had been chosen specifically because Ethan had said that by the time both of them turned forty-seven a list of things he wrote down would have come true. The list was written in the open space on the side of the page and at the bottom. It was the day the two interns had found out that they had been born on the same day, the same year, and within forty-five minutes of each other (if you ignored that one had been on the east coast and one had been on the west coast). It had also been the first time they had slept together – two cots pushed together in the closet-like room where interns could rest while on duty for their six-month emergency room rotation. The list included things like the fact that they would be married (not even a possibility at the time), they would have two kids, two dogs, a turtle, and live in a ‘please fix me up’ brownstone in New York. It also said, ‘Ethan will love Tag forever.’ Who knew that a drugged up schizophrenic mugger would randomly make forever suddenly end two years later by taking Ethan’s life in an alley they both took as a shortcut to the hospital? To this day, Tag had never walked down that street, again. Tag mouthed the words ‘Good night, Ethan’ and then closed his eyes – hoping sleep would finally come.

My first real fiction story that I've ever written, I was inspired by a pic I came across recently (I've attached it in this chapter). While there is muscle growth in the story, it is not the main focus. Hope you enjoy it! Chapter 1 – the mysterious stranger I was feeling good, in the middle of a road trip around my state. Travel options were limited thanks to a pandemic sweeping the world. I hadn’t planned anything specific for this trip, which was a new experience for me - I was usually meticulous and planned for everything I did, right down to the informal plans over a usual day. I found not making plans for this holiday really exciting and freeing, a good remedy to months of working from home and not being able to socialise or go anywhere. As a 38-year-old man who was only discovering his social life in the last few years, meeting guys and having sexual experiences, not being able to build on my life in my new home was a downer. I’d moved from another state 9 months ago, and barely got to explore when the state went into lockdown. While I was no adonis, I kept myself active with biking, walking and other exercise, and was told I looked attractive and younger than my age. I had an average build, kinda hairy, and what would best be described as a “dadbod”. I had been self-conscious about my body and people seeing me naked for many years, but getting used to the idea that I’m attractive enough, fairly fit and looked after myself, despite having a below average penis size. I found in recent years I became more comfortable being social and putting myself out there to meet guys and looking for anything from a one-off sexual experience to a relationship. On this day I had been on a short hike up a beautiful mountain, and gone mountain biking in an area I’d never been before, which was always fun and challenging, since I never know what to expect when I ride in new places. I was on my way to my destination for the night, a small country town about 3 hours drive from where I was bike riding. My plan was to research caravan parks and choose one to set up my tent and sleep. I wasn’t much for camping, but thought it would be good to switch between hotels and camping each night. My GPS was directing me through all these quiet back roads through bushland, and I was happy to blindly follow the directions, enjoying seeing different areas of the countryside. About 2 hours from my destination, I spotted this young guy just walking along the road, shirtless and barefoot. It was lightly raining, and it didn’t seem like this guy had planned to be there, certainly not dressed in so few clothes and in the middle of nowhere. I slowed down and pulled over just past where the guy was walking, since it felt right to check if he was OK. As he walked up to the passenger side of my car I noticed how toned his body was in the side rear-view mirror, even though I couldn’t really make out his face properly. I lowered the window as he approached, and as he looked through the window I got a full sense of how attractive this guy was. He looked about 22 years old, shortish black hair, tanned skin (I suspected he was Latino) and a baby face. I tried not to stare at his beautiful torso – it was lean and muscular, not overly beefy, with a small amount of hair all over, and a visible treasure trail leading from his belly button down to his shorts. His abs were a taut and solid six-pack, and his whole body looked like solid muscle, with veins protruding and snaking throughout his skin. The fact that he was also dripping wet left me speechless for a few seconds while I took in his form. I asked: “Are you OK?” - it seemed like the best way to approach in the situation we were in. “I’m not sure, I don’t know where I am or how I got here” he replied. My hunch about him being Latino seemed to be confirmed by what sounded like a Spanish accent, which I found sexy as hell. “What was the last thing you remember?” I asked. “Hmmm…I remember getting up this morning, not really clear what happened since then” he replied. The whole situation seemed really weird, and I wasn’t really sure how I should react. I also wasn’t sure whether I could trust what this guy is telling me. On the other hand, I couldn’t think of a reason why someone would lie about being in the middle of nowhere without shoes or a shirt though, despite it being summer and really hot outside. While I was not in the habit of giving rides to strangers, I couldn’t leave him out there, and the fact that he was ridiculously hot was somewhat encouraging as well! “Can I give you a ride somewhere, maybe a hospital to get you checked out?” I asked. He spent a few seconds thinking, and then replied: “I would appreciate a ride, I’m not really a fan of hospitals though”. “Where can I take you then?” was my next response. “Do you think I could hang with you until I work out what to do next?” he said. I took a while before I responded - I’m generally pretty cautious in unusual situations, and while I wanted to help this guy out, the whole thing was uncomfortable and sketchy in my mind. I was mulling over all the possible scenarios of what could happen if I take him with me, and the possible other options I could offer. I needed to get a little more information if I was going to offer an alternative. “Where do you live?” I asked. He took a few seconds again before he responded, which made me increasingly suspicious. “I’m actually from Colombia, but staying in Australia for a few months and travelling. I’ve been staying with various people along the way” he said. Now my red flags were lighting up, it was starting to sound like a setup, him just trying to get someone to use so he can get to the next place on his travels. The lack of clothing and baggage didn’t seem to fit that line of thinking though, and he seemed genuinely confused by his situation. Since I was doing an unplanned trip by myself, the idea of having company might be good, and as long as I’m careful with my valuables there didn’t seem to be too much risk involved. The shorts he was wearing seemed pretty small when I saw them, so if he had a weapon there weren’t many places he could hide it! I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt but make my expectations clear. I told him that he could stay in a hotel with me that night (in separate beds of course) and I would help him with what he needed to continue on his journey (within reason), but after that he was on his own. He agreed and I got out of the car to get a beach towel out of my baggage so he could dry off. As I gave him the towel, I asked him what his name was, he replied it was Jorge (pronounced hor-hay), which I thought was a really sexy name. I wasn’t sure how I was going to deal being around this hot guy who was probably straight and certainly not interested in someone twice his age. I was pretty adept at making friends and relating to younger people though – my nephews are in their early twenties and like hanging with me, and I had several close friends who are Jorge’s age as well. I figured if I can be helpful and friendly it’s a great chance to get to know someone new, even for just one night. On the trip he asked me a lot of questions about myself, including some quite personal questions about my dating life, which was a little confronting. He made me feel comfortable enough to discuss it with him though, not sure why! As part of the discussion I told him I was gay, but had never really been in a relationship, and was starting my adult social life later than most people. I’m always worried about telling people that, since it makes me seem like some kind of outcast or loser. Jorge seemed genuinely interested in learning all about me though, although he seemed really guarded about his own life when I asked. I did manage to confirm he was gay though, using the old “do you have a girlfriend back home?” question. He seemed quite relieved to tell me about his sexuality, and he mentioned that he’d never been in a relationship himself. While that didn’t mean anything was going to happen between us, it at least made me feel more comfortable in my attraction for him, and gave us more to talk about. I asked Jorge to use my phone to look up some hotels in our destination, but he needed a lot of help, it seemed he’d never booked a hotel before! In the end I decided we’d make the final booking once we get to our destination, and I could go through the details myself. Once we’d gotten to the destination, I found a hotel that had a room with a queen and single bed which would be perfect for us, and close enough to the centre of town so we could go for a wander and get food and stuff. While Jorge seemed comfortable (and sexy) in just shorts, I thought he should be more dressed if we were going to eat out somewhere. I lent him a t-shirt and some flip flops, both of which seemed unfamiliar to him - I figured it was just a result of his upbringing. It seemed like he found wearing clothes and footwear…inconvenient? I thought it would be nice to find some food familiar to him, so we went to a Mexican restaurant in town. We enjoyed some great food and conversation, with me mostly answering his questions and him telling me very little about himself. His questions became increasingly sexual, I got the impression he hadn’t had much sexual experience and was curious as to how it worked. After dinner we walked around a nice lake and then to our hotel room. We chatted for a while sitting on our beds, then we both had showers and got ready for sleep. I took the queen bed and Jorge was in the single. Just before I turned off the light Jorge asked me: “After everything that’s happened to me today I would feel safer if I could share the bed with you, is that OK?” Apart from getting a sudden boner I was wondering whether it would be a good idea. Considering how naïve Jorge was about a lot of things, I thought it might be good for him to have a nice experience with a guy who wasn’t just going to take advantage of him. I said it was OK so Jorge climbed into my bed. He was naked, and I was just wearing boxer shorts, which was my usual habit for sleeping. Initially we just lay on opposite sides of the bed, and all these thoughts were going on in my mind, thinking how much my plans for the day had changed since coming across Jorge on that road. He was so handsome and friendly, and so strangely naïve about certain things, I was wondering how he’d been able to travel successfully all this time. After a while, maybe 20 minutes, Jorge shuffled over to my side of the bed, and put his arm around me, resting his hand on my chest in a spooning position, with me facing away from him. I instantly got hard, I was not accustomed to this level of affection. He whispered: “You feel so good to hold, I hope this is OK with you”. I put my hand over his and said: “it’s OK”. Feeling his solid muscles against my body felt amazing, and I could tell he was hard too. Feeling his solid chest pushing into me with each breath was so calming I fell asleep fairly quickly.

Chapter 1 Hidden among the clouds is a castle. Only those with desires can see and enter this wonderful place. Here in this magical place, your wildest sexual fantasies come alive. Muscular men, built like gods, await you in their rooms. Men with handsome faces and cocks begging for attention. There's a special man waiting there just for you! Yes, you! He wants to know you. He wants you to feel the hard work he's put into his body, pumping iron just for your excitement. He invites you to stay with him for as long as you like. You might ask me, "Angel, this sounds amazing! How do I get there?" I smile. The key is in everybody. The door is in your dreams. The way in is easy and enjoyable. Have a light dinner and hydrate just enough before going to bed. You wouldn't want your body to interrupt you enjoying yourself. If you wish, take a long and relaxing shower. Wash away the day's activities. Delight your sense of smell by enjoying the rich lather of your soap as you clean your beautiful body. Give your reflection a smile! You both know what's going to happen tonight. Clear your mind and as you lay comfortably in your bed, allow yourself to focus on only one thing: Pleasure Castle. In bed, let yourself be one with your pillows and sheets. Do you feel your energy flowing, as it passes the boundaries of your body? Let your body lighten. Feel the coolness of the air as you float up... up... up... Listen to the quiet night. All is asleep. Open your mind's eye to the view above your home. The night is filled with beautiful stars, twinkling and gleaming. The sky is clear, but for one spot high above shrouded in fluffy white clouds. Spread your arms to your sides and fly there, soaring through the sky. The closer you get, the cooler it feels. The air is refreshing and every breath fills your heart with warmth and anticipation. As you arrive at the bundle of clouds, they part for you allowing you the first glimpses of a door. From the door, the clouds reveal the bricks in your favourite colours. The full castle comes alive and you notice that you aren't alone! Amongst the castle and the clouds, there are men making love right before your eyes. Two are on one of the roofs making out, one man on top of another pinning his lover between his built forearms and thighs. There's a trio pleasuring their middle-man at both ends. There are also groups of men cuddled up, talking, laughing, and enjoying the view. They absentmindedly feel and touch each other as their conversations flow from one topic to another. A ball flies by your head and a man flies towards you. He checks you out and gives you a wink before he retrieves his toy and resumes play with his teammates. The sight is so beautiful and wonderful to behold, but you remember your mission. You spot a stationary man by the door. You lock eyes with him and he smiles, waving you to approach. As you come closer you notice his attire. He's dressed in a stylish black and white tux, hair slicked back and eyes welcoming. The tux does little for the imagination, showing exactly how big and muscular his frame is. "Welcome," he says with his deep and smooth voice. "Who would you like to see?" You might answer that this is your first time. His knowing smile reaches his eyes. "I'm Derek and I'll be guiding you this evening. As this is your first time, please allow me to explain. Here you can be with any man or men you wish. We match you with just the right guy who is also looking to fulfil his own fantasies. You can think of it as matchmaking 2.0." You might ask how this is possible. "We made this beautiful haven for any and all men. You let us know exactly what you want to experience. With the help of our staff, we find the right men who are looking to try something new or veterans who know exactly what you mean," Derek replies with a wink. You might ask if there's a catch. "No catch and no money necessary. This is a free service for those with desires to be explored and enjoyed over and over again!" He beams at you. At this point something deep within you ignites. Are you ready? You tell Derek your wildest fantasy. He listens and nods as you describe your perfect man. He is built with biceps loaded and washboard abs. He loves wearing white tank tops visibly showing the view of his gorgeous pecs. You tell him how sweet and romantic he is, but he can get a little cocky when he starts to flex. Derek's eyes light up. He knows exactly who you're looking for and he happens to be in this very night! Derek asks you if there's a setting you and your man want to be in. Before you could think, you say the beach. You might ask if he can do that. He smiles again answering, "Of course we can!" He opens the door and finally you enter! You follow Derek in, his muscular back greeting you. The view inside erupts in lights and colours you've never seen before. The entrance is big and wide and you wonder how this all fits inside. Interesting sculptures of men in various degrees of disrobing decorate the room. The art is accompanied with lounging chairs for one's viewing pleasure. There are tables and entrances to different bars and restaurants that you might visit some other night. You rub your eyes, checking your vision. The environment holds as true as the sun goes up. You hear dance music coming from the second floor and men walking in and out, sometimes in pairs holding each other from shoulder to shoulder. "We're going this way," Derek says as he brings your focus back to him and your destination. Through the side of the room you walk together, having casual conversation and Derek laughs at all your jokes. You wonder if next time you can ask to spend more quality time with Derek instead. "Here we are," he says as he stops right by an unassuming door. "Go ahead and open the door and wait for your date inside." You thank him for his welcoming hospitality as you open the door to the smell of the beach entering your senses. He gives you a smile as he makes his way back and the door softly shuts behind you. The sight you behold is breath-taking. The inside of the castle has a full-sized beach! You look back at the door and realize there are no walls between and above it. On the other side of the magical door is just more beach. The waves are quiet and rolling. There's no one else here but you... until... The door you came in from swings open again and a familiar stranger's eyes meet yours. Derek is beside him and waves. Your mystery man enters, smiling as he looks at your profile, top to bottom, side to side. Derek helps you both by closing the door and allowing privacy.

So as you can guess from the title, I was really hoping I could get this posted last week. But alas, life got in the way. Hopefully you're still up for a little romance story in the spirit of V-Day. ++++++++++++++++++++++++ There’s nothing worse than having to work late on a Friday. And I don’t care if it’s an hour or just ten minutes, once that clock strikes 5:00pm I need to be gone. Most of the time I am able to bug out 30-60 minutes early on Fridays, but alas, today I had a proposal that needed to be completed by 5:00pm. All of my office mates had already left, lucky bastards. Today was Valentine’s Day and flowers and candies littered the desktops and they had all left to prepare for their own evening dates. Finally at 4:33pm my last quotation arrived and I was able to finish my proposal and make sure it showed up in my outbox. With a huff I packed up my computer laptop and departed the office at 5:04pm. Still late. Ugh! On the drive home I couldn’t wait to get to the gym, my daily escape from office life. It’s what I jokingly call ‘Miller time’. Because my name is Miller and I love the gym. I love exercising my body, the rush of endorphins, how I’m able to release those stresses that build up over the day slogged in front of my computer screen. Not to mention, the added bonus of the potential to view some eye candy. The gym has been part of my near daily routine now for about 10 years. After college as I started to soften I made a commitment to keep myself in shape and I was proud to say that I had accomplished that goal. Now, you may be thinking that I’m some big sexy bulging bodybuilder stud with how dedicated I am to my gym. Well, I’d say I’m sexy at least. But the truth is that I was cursed, or blessed some would say, to be a true hardgainer with a jackrabbit metabolism. Now that’s not to say I’m a skinny either. With a decade of dedication I’ve built my 5’9 frame up to a solid 165 lbs. My wiry muscles are all evident when I take off my shirt, especially my abs. With my low bodyfat I have a pleasing vascularity and defined creases between the muscle groups. I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve been called a stud before, and even a couple of young 120-lbs twinks had referred to me as a “muscle guy” in the past. My tight body combined with my good looks meant I’d never got any complaints. The only real thing I’ve had to learn to overcome was my shy and reserved personality. Thankfully as I’ve aged that has improved in tandem with the strides made in the gym. While I had a tight, ripped body, I’d accepted the fact that I’d never be a huge bodybuilder. And that was ok with me. Truth be told, in my fantasies I enjoy the idea of being a smaller guy to a big pumped stud. It’s a scenario that has played out in my mind countless times when I’m in the middle of my 45-minute cardio sessions. I do cardio five times a week. I do lift weights, mostly full body-type routines, another three times to ensure the muscle I do have stays prominent, but for the most part I could be classified as a cardio bunny. As I mentioned above, I’ve always been a bit of a dreamer and I’ve found those cardio sessions go by much quicker when I’m playing out a little fantasy in my mind. Sometimes I had even jotted them down on paper afterwards and submitted them to my favorite muscle fetish websites. Not gonna lie, I’ve received some excellent feedback on some of my tales. As soon as my legs start trudging along that belt my mind runs wild with sexy bodybuilder-centric fantasies. So there I was rushing to get home and get into the gym, get a good sweat on and relieve some stress before the weekend. Twenty-five minutes later I was in my gym and walking along on my regular treadmill, tucked away in a semi-private corner of the gym. From here I could see most of the gym while still remaining semi-concealed. Perfect for stud-gazing. I looked around and nobody else was there. Friday evenings were already notoriously dead. Most of the younger gym bros and babes were eager to get out and party, showing off their toned bods to attract similarly built mates. But even then, today was more dead than usual. Then I remembered again that it’s also Valentine’s Day. That would likely do it, I think. The remaining Friday stragglers are all probably are getting ready for a big Valentine’s day date, prepping and a primping for a night of romance. How cheesy. Ok, Ok. I’m not heartless. Truth be told that sounds amazing. In my 20’s I definitely thought the concept was pure cheese but now at 31 I could definitely see the appeal of a special night with a special someone. Especially if that someone had a square jaw and some huge biceps. After the five-minute warmup timer had ticked away its last few seconds I sped up the treadmill to my jogging speed. What should today’s scenario be?, I think to myself. Perhaps a reunion story. Something with two long separated friends and one is now Olympia-esque. Maybe a sexy librarian discovering secret muscle growth powder in a hidden closet? How about a macro-muscle story involving a giant jacked football coach? Maybe a humiliation story with one guy outgrowing and dominating his best friend. Naw, only weirdos are into that sort of thing. Plus, it’s Valentine’s day, so today’s scenario should lend itself to some romance. As I ran through the possibilities I, heard a soft clang of the gym door being opened and shut. Unable to avoid the slight distraction I look over to see what other unlucky schlub is going to be working out alone with me this Valentine’s. Immediately my spirits perk up as I recognize the man walking to the weight area across from me. He is, in simplest terms, the hottest man I’ve ever seen. He’s a regular at this gym and has been for a few years now. In fact…wait a minute. Oh damn! It’s been three years exactly since I first saw him. Three years ago on Valentine’s Day. I remember that vividly because just a week before my then-asshole boyfriend broke up with me. Yeah, right before Valentine’s Day. He’d been cheating on me with a supposedly straight hunk from the next city over. I was so distraught I decided to go the gym that day to try for forget that I was single and broken-hearted that Cupid’s day. Alas, that day quickly turned brighter as me and the other lonely gym-goers were treated to our first look at a new member. That day three years ago he had strutted in with a large duffel bag slung around his beefy shoulders. He was wearing a sleeveless gray shirt. Instantly it became clear to anyone that he was the new top stud of this gym. I remember praying to God that he wasn’t just visiting, that he had in fact enrolled. It seemed God was smiling down on me that day. From my typical perch atop the treadmill I stole glances to the weight area to watch him workout. At first he warmed up as I studies his features. At the time he looked to be a thirty-something with a ruggedly handsome face that would’ve made me feel extremely self-conscious if it weren't for the fact that it was also so welcoming. While his face exuded masculinity with his strong jaw, deep set eyes and wide brow, it also had a certain softness to it. He didn’t have the razor sharp looks of a male model, but frankly, the deep cut cheekbones never did much for me. I much preferred the handsome, approachable, next door, jock look…and hello Mr. Former-High-School-Quarterback. Or perhaps he’d been a linebacker with as naturally thick as his frame was, noticeable even under the blanket of muscles that coated him. To top it off he was rocking a short, clean cut beard that covered his cheeks, chin and wrapped around his mouth. No thick straggly wild beard on him, though he oozed enough testosterone he could easily grow one if he wanted. But no, it looked professionally groomed. On top of his head his hair was similarly trimmed. Short but not buzzed with just enough length to allow for slight upward styling toward the front. On that day his beard was mostly dark brown…but in the years since his beard and the sides of his head had started to just subtly become sprinkled with flecks of grey, which only emphasized his experienced sexual aura. As if he weren’t hot enough when he first walked in three years ago. As he warmed up that fateful historic day one of the gym’s trainers, Brienne, stopped by to welcome him to our facility. I had gotten to know Brienne fairly well during my years attending the gym so I made sure to have a chat with her after my workout to discuss this new slab of steak. As they spoke I saw him smile to here and holy mother… The corners of his cheeks spread outward as his sparkling straight teeth exposed themselves. A perfect smile. It just did not seem fair for the rest of manhood that such a perfect specimen could exist. And I haven’t even started talking about his body! What a body. It was a body that matched his face. While Brienne was a short woman, he towered over her indicating to me that he was well over 6 ft tall. I would later learn 6 ft 3 to be exact. Examining his exposed arms, which were rippling, vascular and tanned, along with the way his pecs pressed against his shirt and how his legs hugged his sweatpants, it was clear he was exceptionally developed. With my years of experience of ogling musclemen online I had pegged him at about 250-260 lbs comparing him to some other tall bodybuilders I stalked...er, "followed" on social media. His vascularity lead me to surmise that he was around or just under 10% bodyfat, meaning that he was impressively muscular. No doubt legitimate amateur bodybuilder big. That day he was doing a full body routine. A bit odd for a lifter of his caliber but I had guessed that he was simply taking the day to familiarize him with his new gyms’ weights and machines. Nonetheless, he attacked every exercise with fervor and worked up quite a sweat, soaking his gray shirt and giving his meaty arms a nice sheen. I was sad to depart the the treadmill once my session was complete since he had only worked about half of his muscle groups, but I forced myself to leave. I did not want to give away my muscle-stalker tendencies just yet. On the way out I stopped by the front desk for a quick chat with Brienne. As she saw me approach she mouthed the words “OH MY GOD” indicating her shared awe of the sexy stud. “Ok, Brienne, who is THAT guy?” “Oh you know, Miller. Can’t share that, gym privacy policy!” “You bitch. Spill the beans.” Brienne giggled before looking around. “His name is Hank Walker. Just moved here from Montana.” “Uhhh, of course it’s a hyper masculine name like that. And of course he's a huge sexy mountain man.” “He’s 34 years old and yes, he’s joining our gym.” “Perfect! Just three years older than me…” “Whatever, Miller, that daddy is gonna be mine!” “Ugh. You’re probably right. Guys like him are guaranteed to be straight.” And thus, that day three years ago started my stalker-ish obsession with Hank. We both tended to workout right after work, before the gym became busy with the younger crowd a bit later in the evening. And now that Hank was a regular member I was sure to avoid adjusting my schedule as much as possible. I wanted every opportunity I could to watch him workout from the safety of my treadmill. Of course, a couple of times a week I was afforded the opportunity to get nearer to him when I did my weights routine. It would take all my strength of will not to stare at him as he would lift on the bench next to me. Watching him workout was pure porn for me. I’m purely a muscle lover. When I watch porn, my favorite parts tend to be the foreplay where the guys flex and feel each other. I’ve never understood why so many porn studios hire these big muscular guys and then spend 90% of the video doing closeups of the penetration. Such a waste. Watching Hank’s muscles bunch and flex was hypnotizing, not just to me but to the other gym goers. Those first few weeks he was stopped often by other lifters complimenting him, asking for advice and just generally wanting to be next to this magnetic man. To his credit, he never once lost patience with them and was happy to engage with his new gym family. And if his new admirers lingered too long he would politely excuse himself back to his own workout. Not only was he tall, huge, handsome, he was extremely friendly and good-natured as well… Seriously, fuck this guy, right?!? He’s probably hung like a horse too. And judging by that full bulge, that seemed likely as well. I’ll never forget when he came up to talk to me one hump day afternoon. I was doing my fast paced walk on the treadmill to get warmed up. At this point he had been working out at my gym for a few months and we had exchanged a few silent nods in passing. The gym was especially deserted this Wednesday night and it was just us two and couple of older women using the machines. As I fidgeted with the controls I heard a deep sultry voice that would rival Sam Elliot and James Earl Jones. “Wow, dead in here isn’t it, treadmill guy.” His voice sent shivers down my spine as I turned my head to see his inviting face. I’d been eyeballing him for some time by now from the side but this was the first time I had looked him straight on. Of course, I noted how even though I was elevated six inches up on the treadmill this perfect man was tall enough that I was looking him right in the eyes. And those beautiful hazel yes. And his perfect symmetrical face. Somehow I found my resolve to address him. “”Treadmill guy?’” “Well yeah, I swear I see you on this treadmill every day.” “Well I supposed I’ll call you ‘dumbbell guy’ since you use them every day.” Instantly my throat tightened up, afraid that I had offended this titan. Thankfully he chuckled and his pecs rippled under his shirt. “Fair enough. I’m Hank. Thought I might as well say hi since I see you here all the time. Great dedication you got.” “Well that’s very nice of you to say since…um…you are obviously very dedicated too.” He grinned as I took the opportunity to scan him. “You are one big dude, Hank.” “Big is the goal! I guess you could say I dabble in bodybuilding.” With that he squared his shoulders with a half-flex. And yet with just that minor tensing he seemed to expand another six inches wider. “I’d say you more than dabble. You’re the biggest guy at this gym for sure.” He thanked me before one of those awkward, new acquaintance silences occurred. “Well it’s nice to meet you, Hank. I’m Miller,” I replied, hoping I had successfully hidden the fact that I knew his name months ago. “Treadmiller,” he spoke. “I’m sorry?” “So you’re Treadmiller. Ya know, Treadmill guy. Treadmiller.” “How very clever.” He smiled and laughed again. “Well that will help me remember your name. Don’t be a stranger, Treadmiller!” And with that he turned and sauntered to the free weights, letting me take in his expansive back and hugely bubbled ass. How could a guy so tall have and ass and legs that big? It’s not fair. From then on we would smile and wave to each other. I was more than happy to make any sort of connection to Hank. I was fully smitten. There wasn’t much more exciting to me than getting to watch Hank workout. One of my favorite things about him was that he was a true bodybuilder. I mean, anybody could see that he was a bodybuilder, sure. But he was constantly building his body. What I mean is, he was always GROWING. He wasn’t a body-maintainer. He was always building himself bigger and bigger. And sexier. Seeing him several times a week, at first it was hard to notice. Like any small changes to your own body that can occur, when you are familiarized with something it can be difficult to see progress. But over time it became apparent with little clues here and there. For example, when he did leg days he liked to wear this old light-orange Sunkist t-shirt that still had the sleeves. I could see why he wore it. He looked good in anything but the way that light fabric hugged his pecs, and delts, the way the sleeves perfectly hugged his biceps and triceps, was enough to make me gasp. It was one of those massive shirts that draped on his physique yet still evidenced the bulges underneath. Over some weeks I had thought I had seen that shirt get tighter and tighter…and then one day he came in and the sleeves were torn off. And he proceeded to do an arm workout. I had surmised that he had grown too big for it to be ‘comfortably’ loose so it had graduated into his repertoire of sleeveless upper body workout shirts. Not to mention the fact that he was lifting heavier and heavier weights. When he first started at our gym I remember watching in awe as he benched 355 lbs for a solid set of 10. It was when that had increased to 405 for 12 that I really gave his body a good look. Ok I always did that, but I started paying more attention. And sure enough, his pecs bulged outward and seemed to be crashing into his delts and biceps more and more when he was standing there relaxed. His traps were thickening and rising slightly higher and higher, creeping up his neck which was also expanding. His legs and ass, already enormous, had made some truly tremendous gains. Not to mention the fact the day Brienne had told me Hank had convinced the gym owner to purchase a set of 150, 175 and 200 lb dumbells! So he was constantly growing. Bigger and stronger. Hotter and sexier with each passing year. I noticed that he never had an offseason either. There were a few big guys at my gym, some who had even competed. It was something to watch all my former gym muses, the former biggest and studliest guys gather around and watch and gawk at Hank while he did his workouts. Ray whatshisname? Tyler whocares? They were like little boys next to Hank. My former muses often seemed to have cycles where they would bloat up to bulk and then cut down. Sometimes they would put on a ton of weight all at once, with a lot of fat baked in as well. But Hank…it’s like he was always one or two months out from a competition. He just slowly but steadily grew bigger and more muscular while never losing his striations, definition and vascularity. Knowing that he was always growing fueled my masturbatory sessions many times. Ok, in truth it was probably 75% of the time. Maybe 90%. Shut up, the guy was fucking HOT. And so back to the present day… As I ramped up my treadmill Hank made his way into the weight room. Glancing at me he give me a one hand salute and I returned the gesture. He must be in a bit of a hurry today, often he stops by to say a quick hi. I wonder with it being Valentine’s Day if he has a hot date tonight. Tonight is going to generate and excellent fantasy situation for me, I can already tell and my brain starts to run wild with the possibilities. One nice thing about Hank is that watching him is the perfect beginning for any fantasy. After he warms up he makes his way the dumbbells and an individual flat bench. Today is going to be a treat for me, I can tell. I had long ago memorized his workouts and I quickly recognized from his stretches and warmup sets that today was going to be a chest and biceps day. After some ‘light’ warmup sets with the 80 lb to 100 lb dumbbells he stood up and stripped off his baggy t-shirt. Oh yes. A treat indeed. Hank was wearing a blank stringer-T that draped off his glorious tanned muscles, the tiny straps having no chance of covering any of his expansive torso. His traps and pecs were so large the straps left a deep gap under them like a rope bridge spanning a deep crevice. As I mentioned earlier, Hank was always growing and today he was in full on bodybuilder mode. Big, pumped and defined already and he was just starting. Even his shorts, which were by no means intended to be skin tight, hugged his massive legs and ass due to his hugeness. I watched with lust as he worked his way up to the 120s, 150s, 175s… then the biggest dumbbells in the gym…the 200 lb monsters. And his titanic body handled the weight masterfully. Each rep was performed with form and precision. Each time he pushed the weights up slowly yet forcefully, his pectoral pillows bunched upwards creating a deep ravine in between. Even though each rep was perfect, Hank would let out these deep sexy grunts of effort and his skin would flush and moisten with sweat. After his last rep he set the dumbbells down and even through the treadmill I could feel the THUD as 400 lbs were suddenly set on the ground. Mind you, he didn’t drop the weights, but setting down two 200 lb weights, it’s impossible not to cause a slight tremor. I swooned as I realized he could bench TWO of me easily, one in each hand. After racking the massive cylinders he quickly moved on to barbell bench press. Most gym bros start with this but in his current routine the intent was to go lighter and do more reps to force more blood into those pecs. Of course, if you’d never seen Hank bench, you would assume this was his first lift of the day. Why? Because he slapped plate after plate after plate on each side of the bar. Even after a few set of heavy dumbbell presses Hank proceeded to work up to a 405 lb bench press of 3 sets of 15. Just incredible power. My dick thickened as I listened the four plates on each side of the bar rattle and clang against each other. It was a white noise that signaled size and power were being built. By now Hank's shoulders and triceps were also pumped up due to their secondary support. After the last set he stood up, looked in the mirror and brought his elbows together to flex his pecs. Though he had a body to be one, Hank was not one of those gym bros who full on poses in the mirror. At least not in the middle of the weight room. Nonetheless as a sculptor of sinew he new how to examine himself and make sure his muscular clay was being molded as he saw fit. He moved on to incline dumbbell flies which afforded me another dick plumping view of his pecs mounding upward. I of course made a mental note how he was using the 80 lb dumbbells for flies, where most men couldn’t even simply flat bench that amount, including myself. He was power. He was masculinity. He was pure sex. He finished up his chest pump with with some elevated pushups to give himself a deep finishing burn. You would think a man of his size would struggle having to push that much bodyweight, but he proceeded to pump out 3 sets of 43, 37, and 34 reps respectively, but who’s counting? Me. I counted and watched every rep of my dream man’s workout. By now his pecs were jutting, swollen and red with pump. The tiny stringer left his perfect, perky nips exposed, though they weren’t always easy to see since his pecs were so large that his nips pointed downward. And so, after just 27 minutes he was done with his chest pump workout and what a pump it gave him. Now it was time for biceps. What self respecting muscle lover doesn’t enjoy a good biceps workout? Or better yet, watching an 37 year old uber stud complete a biceps workout. Hank started out with some hammer curls, the mass builders. Again he worked his way up the dumbbell rack pumping the big weights simultaneously with both arms. I took note how Hank rarely spent time down near the smaller weights. It was like anything under 40 lbs had little use for him. He finished his fourth set by eeking out 11 reps with the 90 lbs dumbbells. By now the effort was clear on his face. His chiseled face scrunched up and he squinted his eyes as he grueled his way through each rep. And if you thought he might have an ugly heavy-effort face you obviously have not been reading this story. Even his effort face was sexy as hell. The sets had their intended affect as his arms seemed to have added an inch or two just from the initial pump. Being such a tall and built guy, his arms easily had to have been over 20 inches when he started, he was probably now flirting with 22s or even 23s. Next he grabbed and easy-bar and loaded it up with 155 lbs and began to curl the taxed metal bar over and over. Now that he had worked out his overall arm thickness, the easy bar targetted those massive peaks. Peaks that I wanted to run my tongue over. And don’t get me started on that cephalic vein. What had started as a licorice-sized vein had engorged to something more akin to an air compressor hose. Arm muscles that enormous required a large diameter tube to transport the blood and nutrients to fuel his growth. While he was already vascular, by this point in the workout his body had become a network of veins threatening to break away from his engorged body. He shook out his arms and I watched mesmerized as the unflexed meat of his triceps swayed and wobbled. I swear even from across the gym I could feel the air being displaced by the movements of such a muscular titan. He finished up with preacher curls, this time lightening up the weight and ‘only’ using the 55 lb dumbbells. To really blast those peaks upward toward the sky. Even from my vantage point I could make out he split between the two muscle heads that give the biceps their name. After the third set Hank returned the weights to the rack and once again shook out his arms before flexing them to tightness at his side. His workout was one of the most erotic things I had ever seen. Sure, I’d spied him lifting before, but as he was continuously growing, this was the biggest and most pumped I’d ever seen him. Shit, even his legs looked pumped even thought this was all upper body. But when you pour as much effort into every rep, every set, as he does, it’s clear that an overall residual pump had been created. Hank then grabbed an elastic band and proceeded to some quick stretches to make sure all his mobility was intact. I sighed as my boner pressed against my hip, sad that he would be departing soon. Hank's workouts were always focused and expeditious, but today’s was even a step faster. Perhaps for this lovers holiday he had some lucky girl waiting for him tonight and he was in a hurry to get to her. Bitch. In my developing fantasy this hyper masculine man would be heading my direction as soon as his workout was finished and smother me with his muscles... By now my typical 45 minutes of cardio were up and I had slowed down the treadmill to a warm down walk. I prepared myself for Hank's departure but spotted him walking my way. My heart started beating faster as he neared. He usually left right after his weight session so I rarely got to see him at his biggest. All pumped. Sweaty. Massive. As he approached he looked me right in eye and gave me a warm smile. What could he possibly want with me? This tall, sexy bodybuilder could have anybody- “Are you getting lost in that pretty little head of yours again, babe?” He interrupted me with a smirk. The sexiest, most lust-filled smirk you can imagine. “Well don’t take too much more time in that head of yours, we’ve got that reservation tonight at the Red Orchid.” He chuckled and rested his big arms on the bars of the treadmill. Being this close I was bathed in his workout scent. A powerful aroma of testosterone, sweat, musk and a hint of deodorant. “I- I was just watching you workout.” His grin widened. Fuck he was smoldering when he smiled. “So you WERE having a gym fantasy, watching little ole me lift?” “I can assure you there is NOTHING little about you.” He glanced at his pumped pecs and arms, then back to my yearning face. His smirk returned an he proceeded to bounce his pecs before raising his left arm and flexing a titanic biceps in front of me. For me. I said nothing but I’m sure at least 3 oz of drool fell out of my mouth. “You’re right, Miller. Everything on me seems to be BIGGER than ever. It must be the affect my adorable husband has on me. He makes me want to grow and grow for him.” I caught my breath and was finally able to speak. “And nothing excites your husband than watching his big sexy bodybuilder man grow bigger.” This time is was Hank's turn to close his eyes and maintain control. “You are so sexy, Miller, I can’t even tell you how much I love you and your tight power packed body. Even though I dwarf you there is nothing sexier to me. And I know you love my size and power. In fact, I got a quick surprise for you babe. Guess what.” Though nothing could ever top the surprise when he proposed to me 16 months ago, any surprises Hank had given me in the past ultimately led to very exciting things, so I was eager to know what he was up to... “What?” “I did it.” “You did it? You did what?” I looked at him as he smirked at me. He stepped back and proceeded to perform a side chest pose. Then a most muscular, his face scrunching as he let out a alpha growl. He his all his poses with graceful fluidity. His flexed muscles exploded even bigger. His posing always took my breath away and I drooled some more as I took in his size. Size. A lot of size. Suddenly it dawned on me. “WAIT…you did…IT??” “Fuck yeah, babe. I finally crossed the barrier. Weighed in at 303 lbs this morning naked.” “UNNNNNNNNN” I was unable to contain my moan and I felt my rock hard dick leak. It was a goal that my husband, with obvious support from me, had had since we started dating two years ago. Way back when Hank was just a “small’ 257 lb bodybuilder. “Oh Hank. You are so damn sexy. And so BIG. You’ve got me raging for you, my big man. We might have to skip that dinner so I can ravage you right now!” I walked up to my hulking husband and wrapped my lithe arms around his titanic torso, pushing my cheeks against his pumped pectorals. From his six inch height advantage he leaned me back, leaned down and smothered my face with his mouth, his beard sexily scratching at my shaved cheeks. Even his tongue was pure power as he used its size to dominate my smaller warm mouth. My arms felt all around his pumped muscles, squeezing and groping the various rock hard masses on his body, being moistened by the sheen of sweat that coated him. I broke myself free of his hovering mouth, reached under his arms and pushed his triceps upward. With a smile he caught on and brought both arms up into a Mr. Olympia worthy double-biceps pose. I smashed my face into his right arm, licking the warm pulsating mass. I was soon sliding my mouth up and under his arm until I buried my face in his armpit and inhaled. My big man moaned deep and heavy from above. “Shit babe, if we don’t stop we are going to give the gym’s cameras a porno show.” “It would be worth it! You're just too hot, Hank.” I reached down and grabbed his bulge through his shorts. Like the rest of him it was over-sized, of course. Seriously, fuck this guy, right? Yes. And I had gotten to. Often. It’s ok to be jealous. I loved how I could make his enormous body shudder as I grabbed his thick, perfectly cylindrical cock. Like the rest of him it was big, almost nine inches long. And let me assure you, those inches were not those elongated "gay inches" either. He wasn’t actually 7 inches. His unit was legitimately a huge monster cock at just under nine pure inches. Hank grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back, holding me at arm’s length. I could see the fight in his eyes, he wanted this to continue as much as me, but alas, we had a reservation at the most expensive restaurant in town. “I promise you, Miller. You will get to explore every inch of this massive 300 pound body after dinner…that is, right after I hold you down and lick every square inch of yours.” My body shuddered as I pictured my future. I regained my composure and calmed my heartbeat. “You’re right. We can do it. We can control ourselves for the two hours, right? RIGHT?!” We both laughed. It would be a tough mission for both of us. “Plus the idea of seeing your massiveness in that suit of yours is too much to pass up.” “Attaboy. And you know, that suit was tailored for me when I was just 275 lbs…so it’s gonna be extra tight now.” I rolled my eyes back again and moaned. “And for being such a good sport, I’ll even wear my posing trunks under the suit for when you undress me after dinner.” "The blue shiny ones? Those are my favorite." "You got it, babe." Thank god the gym this Valentine’s Day was deserted. I’m sure two dudes throwing massive wood in the middle of the gym floor went against gym policy. “I can’t wait, Hank. I love you.” “I love you too, Miller. Happy Valentine’s Day, babe.”

So this is the first installment of my story. One, because it's long and two...because the second part isn't done yet. Once again I have failed to write a short story, so I will follow up with the conclusion by this weekend. EDIT: Conclusion is posted further down in the thread ++++++++++++++++++++ I audibly groaned as the window popped up on my computer screen, covering up the email that I was in the middle of composing. It was a 15-minute reminder that we were having yet another subvendor come in to hawk their wares. I had already skipped the last two of these so I knew I was due to attend. I work as an project engineer at a large engineering firm that specializes in power plant design and construction. Exciting stuff, I know. As you can guess, a complete power plant is a massively complex system that is made up of various equipment systems. Without going into tons of detail and making you jab an icepick into your frontal lobe, this means we have to buy a vast array of sub-equipment that are all integral to the design. Thus, throughout the year, the overly eager sellers of these wares love to come in and give presentations on why their equipment is so much better than the 15 other vendors selling the same stuff. So I picked up my notepad and trudged to the conference which was half full by the time I walked in. Of course, the chairs at the far end of the table were already taken, forcing me more toward the front and closer to the presenters. I glanced at the two men at the front of the room and chuckled, enjoying the regular dance of outside workers struggling trying to connect their computer to our monitor. What would they need today? HDMI cable? USB 2.0? Airtame? As the two men huddled over their laptop I couldn't help but realize maybe this meeting in particular wouldn't be so bad. I recognized the older gentleman as Bob Boonder, a portly man in his 60s with dark grey hair. We had purchased equipment from him often and he had stopped in to our office a few times over the years. He was a good guy who we could always count on, but right now I was more interested in his colleague. He looked to be in his 30s, though he may have been earlier in the decade while I'm solidly in the back half. He was a very handsome man with a wide and pronounced masculine jaw covered in a short, yet neatly trimmed black beard. A hint of cheekbones emphasized his handsomeness without making him look too pretty. He had deep set, dark and piecing eyes. The sides of his head were clipped short while the dark hair on top was about an inch long and styled slightly up and forward. As he glanced around the room he smiled and of course, two rows of perfectly straight, bright white teeth announced themselves to cap of the perfection of his head. His face reminded me of the lumbersexual men I had often ogled online, those who exude a rugged and outdoorsy, yet still very clean cut handsomeness. Needless to say, I found him hot. Where the heck had Bob found this guy? Suddenly the meeting was looking far more exciting, especially as I continued review of this new man. Both Bob and man were dressed in dark slacks and light colored oxford shirts, with a suit jacket on top. A nice touch, I thought. Some subvendors have come in and given presentations in dirty jeans and a polo shirt. While I have nothing against a nice polo and myself wear them often, it doesn't go unnoticed when our potential suppliers come in having put in the extra effort to wear good clothing. The two men did not wear ties and their oxfords were unbuttoned at the collars. As a company that specializes in industrial equipment, there was no problem with this. I can't remember the last time me or one of my coworkers wore a tie to work. Bob had dressed himself and his new employee perfectly to fit the culture of our workplace, his familiarity with us serving them well. It also became clear that the new man wasn't just a looker. As a regular gym goer myself, it wasn't lost on me just how broad those shoulders of his were in that navy suit jacket. And the undone collar gave me a nice preview of some big traps framing a very thick neck. I wasn't sure the man would've been able to button the collar even if they had a tie. While I pride myself on my fitness with wiry build and some decent abs, this guy had a build that exuded power. The only question that now racked my brain was just how that power was backed up. Was he once of those stocky, thicker guys with natural strength? Did he have more a powerlifter build under those clothes, with evident muscles but a bit of a gut? Perhaps a hobbyist gym bro, the guy who lifts five times a week and somewhat watches his diet yet still enjoys the pleasures of beer and burger a couple of times a week. There was a chance he could be a full on bodybuilder under there, a body packed by dense, ripped muscle but those guys are extremely rare, especially those with office jobs. I knew Bob was about my height, 5'10 or so, and his coworker stood just taller than him, putting my guess right at 6 ft or just under. All told, my years of ogling muscly men led me to guess the man to be about 230 lbs. More than enough that I could picture his strong arms carrying my 180 lb body around with ease. As I eyeballed him I couldn't make out any gut pushing against his shirt, so I surmised he was somewhere in the buff linebacker/regular gym guy range. And that was more than enough to get my blood racing as Bob and the well-put together man started their presentation. Bob began by speaking first. "Good afternoon everyone. Thank you for allowing us to come and present to you the latest we have to offer. As many of you know I'm now just a year or so away from retirement, so I've brought along my protégé here, if you will. I'd like to introduce Kirk Ahlstrom. The idea is that Kirk will take over my position once I'm out the door and enjoying margaritas on the beach." Ahhh. Kirk it is. A great name for such a big strapping hunk. "So Kirk here is actually going to give the presentation. Kirk take it away." "Thank you Bob." Of course his voice had rich, bassy timber to it. Not so deep to be James Earl Jones, but deep enough and with just enough rasp to feel it in your chest. "Bob has been a great mentor and I look forward to working with each and everyone one of you in the future." I look forward to working with YOU, Kirk. Kirk made his way around the table making eye contact with everyone around the table. When his eyes met mine it was like sparks flew. For me anyways. I swear he hesitated just a moment after looking at me but that may have been an apparition of my own lust. Kirk's presentation, like the rest of him, was very impressive. Bob had clearly taught him well. He easily and quickly answered any questions my fellow engineers lobbed his way. He was calm and poised, engaging and thoughtful. Let me tell you, it would be a huge challenge to make variable frequency drives an engaging topic, yet all the engineering and project managers in the room were locked in. The man had magnetism and charisma seeping out of his miniscule pores. Bob had certainly found himself a ringer to sell their equipment. And of course, I couldn't help but enjoy the view of his suit jacket tightening every time he gestured to something on screen. And that ass. In those slacks. And the way his thighs filled his pant legs. Yeah, this man was definitely a lifter of some sort. Holy moly did he have a big and tight ass. An ass that could only be built with heavy squats and deadlifts. When he turned to the side I swear I could've rested a cup of water his glute shelf. Forty-five minutes later Kirk flipped to a slide that simply read "Questions?" indicating he reached the end of his spiel. After a few more queries Bob stood up and once again thanked us for our time. Before leaving, Bob stopped me and started talking to me as the room began to empty out. He also stopped Janice, the project manager who was seated next to me. Coincidentally, Janice and I had teamed up on the last project in which we made a large purchase of Bob's equipment, so he offered to take us out to dinner that evening with him and Kirk. Normally, I had about six excuses ready to go to avoid just such an obligation. "Of course, Bob. I'd love too!" But I buried those excuses for the chance to spend some more time with Bob's beefy colleague. "Why sure, Bob, I would be happy to as well." Fuck off Janice. Don't you have kids to go home and take care of? Ok, that was mean, but I didn't want to share my time. "Great, how about 6:30pm at the Hotel del Plaza downtown?" Janice and I agreed and Bob and Kirk shook our hands. Oh yeah, I definitely felt those callouses on Kirk's hand. Not to mention the pure size of them. The guy had some thick hands! Farmer's hands, as my grandma would say. I escorted Bob and Kirk to the front door and returned to my desk, eager for the meal that night. - I quickly spotted the duo after walking into the large open atrium of the hotel. Even if I weren't specifically looking for them I would've noticed Kirk quickly anyways. Both were standing at the bar. Bob was drinking a beer while Kirk had a big glass of water with a lemon. Both greeted me and Janice walked in not five minutes later and together we headed for the nice restaurant connected to the hotel. We were seated around a large circular table, Kirk selected the chair to my right. Before sitting he removed his suit jacket and I was greeted to the sight of VERY large arms filling his long sleeve button down. Not to mention a full view of his wide chest pushing out the top of this shirt, creating an awning of mass over his trim waist. With the suit jacket off I was clear he also sported some heavy-weight pressing shoulders. I mentally compared the size of his arms to my own legs. Every new reveal of Kirk proved he was just as big, or bigger as I had hoped. The four of us chatted and talked business and when that slowed the topics turned to each other and other random topics. I learned that Kirk was single which made my blood boil with lustful hope. Kirk was just as warm and engaging as he was during his presentation, perhaps even more so now that he could focus that magnetic energy just to me and Janice. More than once I caught a lustful glaze in Janice's eyes when he addressed her. I wondered if she saw the same thing in mine when Kirk spoke to me. We ordered our food and it wasn't lost on me that Kirk ordered a 14oz steak along with a side of mashed potatoes and asparagus. To Bob's surprise, he also ordered a wheat beer from the restaurant's craft brew selection. "Someone is letting loose," Bob teased as he smacked Kirk's big round shoulder. "Even going with a beer tonight, Kirk?" "Always nice to try out the local flare when traveling for work," Kirk replied cheerfully. "Well you certainly ordered your share of the 'local flare'," I joked. "That's quite the steak you ordered." Bob added, "This guy eats like a horse. More than any guy I've ever seen." Kirk blushed and put his head down, attempting to divert Bob's teasing. He then fished out a small container from his pocket and popped two small white pills into his mouth. He caught me looking at this container and smiled. "Antacids. Like Bob said, it's a big steak." Bob added, "A big steak for a big man. Now Janice, I was hoping you could give me an update on the Thacker project we gave you some bids for last month..." I was slightly annoyed that Bob had changed the subject. I was much more interested in hearing how Kirk was a 'big man'. Fifteen minutes later I didn't hear about it. I saw it. Kirk practically devoured his steak. He finished before Janice, Bob or I had finished our own much smaller meals. It was endearing and sexy to watch him bite into the meat and watch his eyes roll back from the taste. "Wow, when they said this was the best steakhouse in town they weren't kidding. This is delicious. And perfectly cooked. Just the right amount of pink in the middle." I know I was eating slower than usual. I had to mentally force myself to not watch his biceps and delts flex under his shirt as he cut up his steak. I was able to make out a nice peak under the sleeve. Kirk didn't just have thick cylindrical arms, there was absolutely some good definition there too. From all the slicing and cutting it almost seemed like his arms and shoulders were getting a nice pump, stretching the fabric even tighter. Bob chuckled, "Ever since I told him about this place he's been looking forward to it all week." "And you weren't kidding about how great the steak is here, Bob." Kirk smiled to Janice and then directly to me. "I think I'm going to be making several trips to your office if I can eat here every time I come." YES PLEASE! Kirk sat back sighed with a satisfied and sated look on his face. I noticed a light sheen on his face. Kirk dabbed his napkin against his forehead. He noticed me looking and grinned. "Meat sweats." "Good thing you took those antacids," I replied as he chuckled. When the waiter came to take Kirk's plate he asked if we wanted a refill on our beers. Bob and I happily ordered another while Kirk now asked for another water. Janice requested a refill of her iced tea. At the end of the meal Bob happily took the check and paid. Janice was the first to gather her things and head out, saying she had to get back to her husband and kids. Good. We wished her good night leaving me and the vendors. "Well thank you for the meal Bob. Hopefully you don't have any work to do tonight in your room." "Well, unfortunately I do. Part of working on the road I guess. Just need to catch up on a few emails. Hopefully you don't though." "Actually I had already taken tomorrow off," I replied. "So I might head up the bar and have a couple more drinks before heading home." I turned to look at Kirk, my heart beating in my chest. "And you, Kirk?" "Actually I'm all caught up on my emails. So if you don't mind maybe I'll join you at the bar." YES PLEASE. "Absolutely. Have a great night, Bob." I practically shoved Bob away, jumping at the chance for some time alone with Kirk. Kirk grabbed his suit jacked and motioned to put it on. "If you don't mind, I'm just going to run up to my room real quick. Ugh!" Kirk groaned as he struggled to put the jacket on. It looked like he was have trouble slipping his arms into the sleeves. "Guess all that meat and potatoes bloated me a little. I'm just gonna drop this off and use the restroom and meet you back at the bar in 5 minutes, sound good?" "Sure thing, Kirk!" I watch Kirk saunter out of the restaurant, the seat of his pants drum tight over those glorious ass muscles. Having given up on slipping on the jacket, he carried it with a bent arm, an arm that was clearly stretching the sleeves tight. I couldn't wait until that arm and the man it was attached to returned. SCROLL DOWN FOR THE EXCITING FINISH

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

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."

I had merely suggested that they might like to see my house – knowing full well it would impress them. I had been chatting with the two big guys at the gym and invited them home for lunch. I could immediately sense that the invitation made them both very uncomfortable, so I had simply focused on the larger of the two guys and thought about how he might really like to see my place. I thought about how the home gym and plush movie room would of specific interest. He had immediately accepted the offer on behalf of the two of them – much to the consternation of his friend. We were now standing in the large living space that opened out to the pool at my home – the beach, in sight, beyond. I loved the fact that the two guys were so confident that they acted like they were whispering, but spoke loud enough for me to hear – it’s just something cocky guys like to do. It’s as if they are marking their territory or something. It was meant to intimidate me if I had any ulterior motives. “I’m not feeling comfortable with this, man. Don’t you remember how this guy was staring at us while we were working out? It’s like he was imagining us naked. I say we split.” “Are you kidding dude? Look at this place. This guy is fucking rich. I say we milk this for everything we can. Besides, he’s so tiny either one of us could squash him like a grape with little effort. We got nothing to be scared of. Let’s just sit back and enjoy the ride. It’s nice to be pampered.” “Might I suggest we sit over here to have our drinks,” I said, calmly, pointing to a sofa and chairs near the pool. I had placed their two beers on a table in front of the large couch – making it pretty clear that they might want to sit near each other. I took my place in a chair directly across from them. The larger guy, Hank was his name, moved over to the sofa. When he sat down he picked up the glass I had placed beside his bottle of beer and stared at it with a confused face as he took a big swallow. “What’s this for? You gonna serve water, too?” “Might I suggest you pour your beer in it?” “What for?” asked Hank, the larger of the two large men, as he took another quick sip. “Cause it’s civilized, dude! Just do it,” answered Toby as he sat next to his workout partner and poured his beer obediently into the glass. He sat exactly where I hoped he would. Hank gave him a ‘what the fuck’ look and then followed suit. “Might I suggest you two make yourselves more comfortable.” “I don’t know, mister. I’m pretty fucking comfortable. I worked my ass off in the gym and have a mega-pump, I’m sipping nice beer from a glass, and I’m sitting in what I’m sure is a ten-million-dollar home. Can it get much more comfortable?” “Might I suggest you take off your shirt, Hank?” “Hell yeah! I mean, if you don’t mind, sir. Come on Tob, let’s go shirtless.” “Dude, this is all a little weird. Besides, I don’t want to see your man-boobs.” “I know, bro, but I just gotta uncover these puppies. It’s like if I don’t let them breathe I’m gonna die. It feels like my shirt is as heavy as a suit of armor or something. And it’s so fucking hot.” In an instant, Hank had his shirt off and if he had man-boobs, as Toby called them – then I’d say I must be a man-boob fanatic. His chest was miraculous. Heavy, heavy thick looking pecs that tensed and bounced as he moved. My mouth watered. The young man was enormous, like a young Lou Ferrigno. I could sense he was the more adventurous of the two – more gregarious and ready to embrace life. I did like Toby’s reserve, though. I had a feeling he was much more mature than his friend but loved hanging out with Hank so much, that he just accepted his friend as he was. They had told me they had known each other a really long time. Both were waiters at a fancy restaurant near the beach, while Hank had just started pursuing bodybuilding and Toby worked hard to build a modeling career. Toby’s looks matched Hank’s hugeness. The smaller big man had a fitness model physique and a face that had certainly caused many-a-wet-dreams over the years. I appreciated beauty as much as I did muscles. “Toby . . . I’m sure you’d be able to catch a few rays while we’re out here drinking and dining. I’m thinking you’d love to darken that already gorgeous tan of yours. Am I right?” “Yes sir. That’s good thinking. I could sure use a little more sun,” Toby replied as he put his beer down, grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt, and lifted it to reveal one of the most chiseled physiques I had ever seen. The two men were like the perfect pair – salt and pepper, Jack and Coke, oysters and champagne, or Ben and Matt. I loved huge pumped muscle – represented by Hank, but I also loved that low body-fat look of a sculpted surfer – represented by Toby. I had chosen perfectly. I pushed a button on the table beside me and soon an elder gentleman stepped out onto the patio. “Gentlemen, might I introduce my friend and butler, Alfred. Alfred, this is Toby and Hank,” I said, pointing to the appropriate guy when I spoke his name. “Gentlemen,” Alfred responded with a raised right eyebrow. “What’s up Al?” Hank said and I saw my butler cringe a little. “It’s nice to meet you, sir,” said Toby, and this made Alfred smile. “What would you like for lunch, guys?” I asked. “You mean, like we would say anything and this Alfred, here, is going to go and make whatever we ask for?” Hank said with total glee in his voice. “No, no, no – not Alfred,” I replied, as the older gentleman turned to me with a shocked look. “He will merely go and order it with the chef. Might I suggest a salmon and shrimp Caesar salad, with toasted garlic bread and then a big cheese and fruit platter for dessert. I also think a nice sauvignon blanc will go nicely with that.” “Is that a vegetable?” Hank asked. “It’s a wine, dude,” Toby quickly said, “That sounds really nice, mister.” “Thank you, Alfred. If you would let the chef know. Oh, how do you like our new friends?” “I haven’t seen bodies as nice as that since . . . um . . . yesterday, sir,” Alfred said, rolling his eyes and heading towards the kitchen. “Do you have a lot of servants, dude?” Hank asked, taking another sip of his beer. “Man, they’re not servants . . . they’re staff. Jeez!” exclaimed Toby. “Well excuse me, do you have a lot of staff, mister?” “A few, yes. By the way, you fellows may call me, Saxon,” I answered. “No more of this ‘mister,’ stuff.” “Is that your name? Wow, it sounds like SAX-ON-the-beach!” Hank said, laughing and getting a ‘shut up’ look from his friend. “Fellas, do the two of you ever wear posers?” I asked, stepping to an outdoor fridge behind a bar to get them two more beers. “You mean those skimpy little bathing suits? Naw, I’m not in competition shape, yet, so I haven’t had to buy one. I’m not sure I’m going to like them. As for Mr. Three-Legged-Toby, here, he can’t wear them because of his larger-than-life endowment. I swear the eight inches I’ve got on him in height all went to his crotch. He’s a monster.” Hank said, boasting openly for his friend. “Dude, some things don’t need to be shared,” Toby said. “It’s not like you can hide it, Tob-ster. Trust me, Saxon, it’s the first thing girls notice when we go out to bars. I’m standing there – six feet, ten inches of solid muscle, but the dames are all looking at his crotch. Most of them are scared to shit of the thing, but there are a few that usually take on the challenge.” “Over-sharing, Hank. I’m serious. Saxon does not want to hear about my dick, okay?” Toby said, clearly embarrassed by the conversation, but he also seemed a little proud of his giant tool, which had definitely not gone unnoticed by me – how could it? “Well, getting back to posers, I just happen to have some new ones in that table at the end of the sofa, Hank. Yes, just in there. Might I suggest that you two get even more comfortable and put some on. There are all sizes, Toby, so your more-than-ample endowment will not have to worry. It would please me very much and brighten the day even more than it already is.” “Wow, these things are really kind of hot,” Hank said as he opened the drawer and pulled out a bunch of still-tagged posers – all different colors and sizes. Toby looked on with horror and nervousness. I knew he’d need a little more convincing. Hank, on the other hand, had already started laying a few across his crotch to imagine what they might look like. “Surely, someone with a body like yours, Toby, and that of your friend’s, should not be covered with unnecessary layers of material. All the work you have done to make yourself buff, it’s only right and kind to let others behold the fruits of your labor.” “Well, when you put it like that, Saxon, it does sound selfish not to share,” Toby said in agreement – his words actually shocking himself. “It would be damn selfish,” Hank added – clearly ready to change. “You got an outdoor changing room Sax, buddy?” “Might I suggest that you both just change right here,” I said, slowly and clearly. “We’re all grown men and there won’t be anything revealed we’ve never seen before. That is, unless you’re embarrassed by your god given bodies and shy about your private parts.” “Fuck it, I did circle jerks with teammates in the locker room during college, so changing here is a piece of cake. I’ve got nothing to hide,” Hank said standing up and pulling down his sweats and briefs at the same time – in one quick, glorious move. Indeed, the huge specimen of manhood definitely had nothing to hide. His thighs looked as big as chairs and the muscles tensed beautifully as he moved. He also had nothing to be ashamed about in the meat department – sometimes a really big man does, indeed, have a nice sized penis, too. There was no ‘trying to make up for shortcomings below the belt’ causing Hank’s lust for bodybuilding. A nicely proportioned, thick, slightly curved dick hung invitingly between his legs as he pulled up some gold, shiny posers he had chosen. It was only when Toby slowly stood up and pulled down his shorts and underwear that Hank’s endowments became obsolete. Most wine bottles were not as thick as this young man’s cock and it hung down almost to knee level. He could have easily been taken for an elephant. The way that it flopped around told me it wasn’t even slightly hard at this insane size, which made me immediately want to suggest something to stimulate it, but I nixed that idea for later on. I swear the obnoxiously large cock only looked right . . . symmetrical . . . because Toby had this sculpted-by-the-gods body with appropriate bulges everywhere. He was of decent height – probably six feet – and his beautiful muscles made you accept the tree he was now stuffing into triple extra-large black posers. I’m sure his goal was that the color would help hide his more-than-a-horse cock, but it was also clear that was hopeless. I swear the thing could actually wrap around his waist. “Now, I think that makes all of us feel a lot better, don’t you,” I said to ease any lingering stress and it seemed to work. “Yeah, I’m feeling really good. Nice beer, snug posers, pumped body, the sun beating down on me, and a fucking mansion surrounding me,” Hank said, his face truly registering how happy he was. “Yes sir, this is nice,” replied the more reserved Toby, adjusting his monumental package. “How big is your chest, Hank?” I asked and the normally outspoken young man turned a little red and looked down at his huge pecs. “I’ve swelled these puppies up to fifty-seven inches in the last month. Gonna hit sixty by the end of the year. I can feel it,” Hank said, tensing the pecs together and then bouncing them. “Probably my best body part. I just got to get the rest of my muscles on par with my pecs and I’ll be ready to compete.” “It looks like you are well on your way, young man,” I replied, admiring his enormous size. “I bet you like to play with your big chest, don’t you?” “Yeah . . . yeah, I do. Like right now. I love to manhandle the big things – trying hard to compress the hard muscle,” he answered – his eyes not leaving his own chest and his hands groping the big mounds with not an ounce of self-consciousness. “Dude, what are you doing?” asked Toby, who was staring at his friend in disbelief. “Can’t help it man, I just sometimes got to feel all this thick muscle. I love how all this hard beef swells when I tense it. And watch – I can make them bounce together or one at a time,” Hank answered, and then he made his pecs do exactly as he had said. “Wouldn’t you like to feel one of his massive pecs, Toby? I bet Hank would love to share the privilege of groping – after all, there are two of them,” I suggested softly – imagining exactly what it would look like. “Oh, hell yeah, T-man. I’d love to have you clamping a strong hand down on my big pec. Bring it in, mister T and show me what you can do.” Hank said, looking into the eyes of his friend. “Those big things are really hot,” Toby said, unbelieving the words came out so easily, and his right hand went up to grip Hank’s massive pec with spread fingers. “Oh shit, dude, they’re so much harder than I thought they’d be.” “Wait til I tense them, dude,” Hank replied and then he flexed his chest with all his might – forcing Toby’s fingers to have to lessen their grip and making both men let little moans escape their mouths. “Fuck, feel free to squeeze harder, dude, my meat can take it. Yeah, hard to hold on to all that tensed beef, isn’t it, dude?” “It’s not hard to hold on to that big-ass nipple, punk,” Toby said as his fingers pinched Hank’s nub hard. “Yeowwww!!!! Oh, fuck that feels good, man,” Hank yelled. “Do it again!” “Look at you, loving the abuse,” Toby said. “You have no idea, Tobster – no idea,” Hank replied, as he let his head fall back and he closed his eyes. The bigger man had started tugging on his other nip in rhythm with his friend’s yanks on the first one. Soft growl-like sounds came from somewhere deep inside Hank. He was enjoying the abuse of his nips, completely. I refused to touch myself as I watched the show. I simply took a sip of the drink I had made myself and gazed at all the muscled beauty before me. The men had forgotten I was there. Toby was looking at his friend’s big pec – mesmerized by how much power he could use on the other guy’s nipple. I wanted to see just how powerful my talents for persuasion could take me. “That plump man-knob looks like it could use a mouth sucking on it, don’t you think, Toby? That would certainly make you feel nice, now wouldn’t it, Hank?” I said as calmly as I could. “Oh, fuck yeah.” “I would like to taste it, bud,” Toby said, politely and with begging in his eyes. That was all the permission the big bodybuilder needed. He grabbed the back of Toby’s head with his big hand and forcibly directed the guy’s face to his waiting pec with its jutting nipple. I could hear how hard Toby’s face hit by the smack it made. The smaller man didn’t seem to mind, at all. He simply began sucking on the nub sticking out from the swollen meat protruding from Hank’s big torso. From the immediate sounds of grunts and groans coming from both men, it was very hard to determine who was enjoying themselves more. Toby’s lips and mouth suctioned so hard that his cheeks caved in and gave him the look of a starved model. Hank writhed uncontrollably from the pleasure suck he was receiving – taking his friend’s head into the air as his back left the sofa. “Damn, Toby that mouth of yours is so fucking hot!” Hank said, without even thinking about it. “Toby does have a beautiful, sweet mouth, doesn’t he, Hank?” I said softly. “Wouldn’t you like to know what those lips, that tongue and his warm mouth taste like?” I was pushing the envelope and I knew it. I didn’t care. The big boy on big boy action happening in front of me was almost too much for me to handle. Huge muscled beef being licked, kissed, and sucked by this beautiful chiseled young man was much more than I had ever dreamed possible when I set out to the gym today. I wanted to see where all of this could lead. I wanted to satisfy all the urges these hot men were creating in my own body. I focused on Hank because he seemed to respond to the promptings the most. I was also beginning to pick up distant stirrings from Toby – something that made the show even better. “Just think how nice it would to be kissing that mouth, Hank,” I said – picturing it in my mind. “Might I suggest you try.” “Come here, babe,” Hank said with heaving breaths and then he locked his fingers in Toby’s thick hair and pulled the smaller man’s head toward his face. I could tell Toby paused briefly, allowing the lustful haze to lift for a few seconds and question what was happening. Hank didn’t want the other guy to wait for very long. The big man wanted to taste Toby’s mouth – that’s all he was focused on, now. He didn’t even miss the wonderful sucking of his huge pec. He smeared his mouth against the now waiting mouth of his friend – roughly, forcibly, making it clear that it was a big man’s kiss. Hank’s tongue attacked. His lips pressed in. He inhaled. And he moaned. There had never been foreplay made in any porn movie better than this. Hank dominated the smaller muscle man and kissed like he was trying to extract Toby’s soul through his mouth. Toby’s fingers had re-found the big nubs on Hank’s chest and were going to town on them, again. Hank’s big hands were all over Toby’s body – one pulling the other guy’s head in even harder into the kiss and the other caressing the chiseled back of the gorgeous man – getting dangerously low with each caress. “Lunch is served,” Alfred announced, near the doorway to inside. Those three words broke the mood and whatever influence I had been enjoying over the boys, but I didn’t mind. I knew we’d be able to return to where we had left off after lunch. Even with the mood ruined, the two young men continued to kiss for a few seconds more. I watched closely to see what would happen as my suggestion wore off. Toby was the first to stop, looking at his friend with wide eyes as Hank continued to press into his face with a kiss. Toby pulled back quickly, realizing that his fingers were tugging on Hank’s nipples – so he jerked them away, too. “What the fuck, Hank?” Toby said, scooting away on the sofa. “I don’t know, Toby,” Hank said, looking a little confused, but satisfied, too. “It was just a little snogging. Don’t know why we did it, but I don’t really care either. You’re a great kisser, dude. A really great kisser.” “That’s not the point, man.” Toby continued. “Hey, I won’t tell anyone if you don’t tell anyone,” Hank said, winking at his friend and then turning to me. “Sorry about that Sax-on-the-beach – I was just really horny and needed to see why all the girls say Toby is a great kisser.” “Oh, don’t worry about me, fellas,” I said, “I was enjoying myself, too. But come, lunch is served. Might I suggest we move to the table over there beneath the umbrellas and have some food and drink?” “I am hungry,” Toby said, standing – his perfectly, symmetrical muscles glistening a little from the sweat caused by his and Hank’s make out session. “I could eat a fucking horse,” Hank said, and he stood - his full six feet ten inches in all its glory, dressed only in golden posers. I had forgotten just how huge the big man was. Because he was constantly around his muscly friend, Toby, his full height and bulk was not always apparent. But as he and I walked side-by-side to the table I felt like some kind of small wind-up doll moving in his shadow. My oversized patio furniture looked small when he was in it. I marveled at the idea that a man so large could navigate through the regular world so easily. I’m sure he found doorways too low, spaces to confining, and many things infinitely too small. That idea thrilled me and I was drawn to sit across from him so I could behold his enormity throughout the meal. Toby sat at one end of the table, obviously still unsure about what had caused Hank’s intense session of sucking face. But more importantly, it was clear he was concerned even more by his own involvement . . . and enjoyment . . . in the action. “Have you always been tall, Hank?” I asked as we began our meal and sipped our wine. “Yeah, I topped six-two in eighth grade and weighed about two-sixty. I dwarfed most of the teachers. It was kind of cool,” the big man answered. “He’s the main reason our high school football team won the state championship four years in a row,” Toby added – clearly proud of his good friend. “And how long have you two known each other?” I asked. “Since the beginning of fourth grade . . . that’s when I moved to our hometown,” Hank answered. “It must be nice – having a best friend for so long,” I said, smiling. “Yeah, it is,” Toby answered, smiling, too. “This guy knows me better than anyone,” Hank said, laughing. “He could get me into a lot of trouble if he ever told some of my secrets.” “And vice versa, dude,” Toby responded. “Might I suggest both of you share something that your friend doesn’t know,” I said with an ease that I hoped would help them feel even more comfortable in sharing. “I sometimes beat off watching myself pose on video or in the mirror,” Hank quickly confessed. “I sometimes beat off watching videos of you posing, too,” Toby quickly said, as well. Both men wouldn’t look at each other. There was something sexually electrifying in the air and no one wanted to disturb it. I, myself, could imagine jerking off a heavy one while watching the big man flex. His foundation was magnificent. I could see the pro competitor he would be in a few more years. A smile crept across Hank’s face as he processed what his friend had said. I realized, then, that it had never even crossed his mind that Toby might find his body hot. He turned to look at the smaller guy. “This can make you squirt, dude?” Hank asked as he flexed his right arm, making the biceps swell huge. “Yeah,” Toby responded softly and stared at the tensed biceps, “If I’m in the right mood.” “That’s fucking hot, bro,” Hank said in return – smiling even more. “It looks like we’re all through with our lunch,” I said and then added, “Might I suggest that we return to the sofa and have a little routine from Hank. I think we’d all love to see him pose.” “Yeah, I’d fucking love that. These posers make me look hot,” Hank said, bringing his arm down and immediately moving to the other area with a full glass of wine. He was tugging the waist band of his posers out, teasingly. “Something on the inside of me is really excited about posing for the two of you.” “I’m glad, Hank,” I said as Toby and I sat down on the sofa with our wine. “Might the outside freely show the same kind of excitement? No one would mind if that happened. We’re all big boys, here. You being the biggest . . . well, in relation to your body, that is. If you got turned on by all of this, we’d all understand.” My suggestion made it so and Hank’s substantial meat in the gold posers thickened and elongated as soon as the sentence was finished. It was like watching cartoon growth. The joy on Hank’s face matched the happiness below. I wondered if shooting hard so quickly made him a little light-headed. My mouth watered as the covered cock continued to grow – even when I thought it was fully hard. It seemed that Hank was a grower. I had a feeling that Toby was a grower and a shower – since the mammoth tool was already showing through the black posers – completely flaccid. I looked forward to suggesting he might be ‘more excited.’ “Fuck, Hank! You want to turn down that monster in your posers, dude,” Toby said as he couldn’t help but notice his friend’s throbbing hard-on. “Can’t help it man. It must be the wine. It must be the sun. Or maybe it’s because I’m about to do this for your two,” Hank said, with no apology, as he brought both of his arms up into a perfect double biceps pose. “Grrrrrrrr, look at all that beautiful hard meat, fellas.” I almost asked if he meant up above or down below, but seeing his monstrous arms ballooning into the air made my mouth drop open. The same response came from Toby, too. This thrilled Hank to no end. He flexed harder – veins popping out on his forehead and his cheeks turning red. It looked like his arms then swelled a few more inches thicker. The man’s muscles were breathtaking. I so wanted to play with my hardening cock, but willed my hand not to move to my crotch. I did not, however, want to put the same restrictions on my friend, Toby – my sofa mate. He was mesmerized by Hank’s massive arms, so I took advantage of the situation. “We’re all friends here, Toby,” I said. “Feel free to do whatever comes natural as you watch your big best friend, Hank, show off for you. He’s such a colossal beast, don’t you think? Let your body respond as it wants to.” “Yes, sir,” came the soft response as Toby continued to stare at the big biceps in front of us. “Might I suggest that you grab the opportunity to fully enjoy the show. We might let your own colossal beast give us a show, too,” I said, looking at the man’s black posers. Color drained from Toby’s face as his posers began to be stretched. I knew that all the blood in his body was pumping hard to a certain part of him- that had suddenly started to grow. I wondered in shocked awe at how the man could walk with the giant thing that had hung between his legs, but now I was in utter dismay as his enormous cock thickened. The head popped out from the waistband of his black posers and it looked as big as my fist. And, yet, the thing kept growing. It snaked up Toby’s muscled thigh like a boa constrictor inching up the trunk of a tree. Suddenly, I was aware of how thin and fragile my wrist looked compared to his dick. Even when I thought it had reached its maximum size, the thing kept getting bigger and thicker. Surely the kid would fall over forward if he stood up – the weight of that monster cock completely throwing off his balance. By now, the gigantic rod stuck straight up – the tip nestled in the gaping crevice at the bottom of Toby’s perfectly formed pecs. “Fucking hell, Toby, that thing is bigger than a telephone pole!” Hank exclaimed as he released his tensed fists, but kept his arms up beside his head. “I’ve never seen it hard! You make my cock look like a toothpick!” This was far from the truth, but I could see why Hank would feel inadequate. Toby’s mammoth pole looked inhuman – like it should be attached to a guy ten times the size of the guy who presently sported it. It’s when Toby’s quite muscular hand wrapped around . . . well, tried to wrap around . . . the thing that it’s true size was highlighted. Toby’s hand – the hand of a well-built man – looked tiny holding on to the telephone pole. When he started pumping the big thing, his hand looked even smaller. Hank watched Toby’s hand go up and down on the king dong. The big man was mesmerized in a way he hadn’t expected. The stroking of the huge cock made Hank want to do something equally as impressive, so he flexed his guns again. Toby’s gaze was glued to the monstrous mounds tensed in front of him. I could not decide where I wanted my focus to be – the enormous pecs and arms or the equally gigantic cock. It was a glorious problem to have. “That’s the fucking hottest thing I’ve ever seen, Toby – you sitting there pumping that big thing.” “Then you haven’t looked in a mirror recently, Hank, because those arms of yours are the hottest things I’ve ever seen.” “Might I suggest you come closer, Hank,” I said lightly – making it as if I wasn’t even there, only a voice in the wind. “Maybe you two would like to touch each other.” Hank’s legs moved without him bringing his arms down or taking his eyes away from Toby’s. Hank used his big leg to push the coffee table in front of Toby and I to the side. Luckily, our wine glasses were elsewhere. Toby spread his legs farther apart, but kept his hand moving up and down on his hard-as-hell cock. Hank knelt right in front of his friend – between his legs, his big body barely fitting. He was flexing so hard his fists were shaking a little and his knuckles were white. He leaned forward and Toby placed his free hand on top of Hank’s huge, tensed right biceps. I saw both men jerk a little from a sexual jolt when their skin met. Hank’s giant pecs rolled upward and Toby’s giant cock visually throbbed. “Might I suggest you tell me what Hank’s arm feels like, Toby,” I said, in almost a whisper. “Like I’m massaging concrete that’s had the sun’s heat pounding on it all afternoon.” “Wouldn’t you like to feel that huge cock between your big pecs, Hank? Might I suggest you make your friend feel good by squeezing his hardness between your hardness.” “Aw hell, that would be the best. How about it, Toby - you want to fuck my massive chest.” The slit of Toby’s dickhead opened up and a big gob of thick white semen seeped out and that was the only answer needed. Hank kept the biceps flexed that still had Toby’s hand rubbing all over it. At the same time, he took his other hand and reached down to pull his mammoth left pec away from the other – only to realize he’d have to pull further as Toby’s free hand steered his mighty cock between the mounds of beef. The big man released his hold and pec meat instantly engulfed Toby’s big rod. Hank’s pecs were the only things that could actually make Toby’s cock look regular. Instantly, Hank tensed his chest and Toby let out a long moan. Then, the smaller man started to buck his hips up and down, humping his cock in the tight crevice of the humongous pecs before him. And he still kept his hand on Hank’s flexed biceps. “Fuck my meaty pecs, man. Yeah, that feels so good.” “Shit, Hank, how can you squeeze your chest so hard? I’m not going to last long, bud, if you don’t lessen your pec grip just a little.” I felt I had died and gone to muscle worship heaven. Had there ever been a couple made for each other more than these two? Seeing that huge cock surrounded by hard bulging muscle was the thing that finally made me rub my own crotch. There was no way that I could see these two muscled behemoths pleasing each other in this way and not get turned on. I also pictured Alfred, my chef, my gardener, my chauffeur, my security guard, and my pool boy all gathered around the television where the security camera feed was delivered – with their own dicks in their hands - all getting off to the sight before them. I knew the security room was going to smell like a bathhouse for days. “Hank . . . uh . . . . man . . . ungh . . . you gotta . . . quit . . . oh shit . . . squeezing so…” I looked up and saw that Hank was now looking into the eyes of his best friend. I saw a determined look in his gaze and knew he wanted one thing and one thing only. He wanted Toby’s big cock to explode. Watching the thick big head of that cock poking out from between massive pecs as Toby forced his crotch forward and then pulled it back was almost too much for all of us. It was clear, however that Hank’s chest was in control of the entire situation. “Come on buddy, let that big thing blow. Cover my massive pecs with your hot spunk,” Hank growled as he spoke. “Wanna milk you dry, man.” “Quit . . . squee-zing . . . ungh . . . ungh . . . stop . . . Hank, please . . . I can’t . . . hold . . . it . . . in . . . please…” It was like watching a movie you’ve seen a hundred times and knew the ending by heart. It was clear that Toby’ hard cock was being smashed by even harder mounds of muscle. His cockhead was now a deep purple. It was clear the poor kid would not be able to hold out any longer. I felt like I should get an umbrella – for the ejaculation was going to be momentous. We all knew what was coming – so to speak. “I’m . . . sorry . . . Hank . . . I’m going to . . . so sorry, man . . . ungh . . . ungh . . . unggggghhhhhhh!” To say that Hank’s chin, neck, and chest got sprayed would be an understatement. It was more like he got hosed down. Toby’s giant cock could obviously store up more juice and propel it more forcibly than that of a normal man. Hot cum shot up into the air and rained down – splattering loudly against Hank’s chest. And still the big man’s tits squeezed. And still the large cock exploded. It was like a gif on constant repeat – a never ending fountain of Toby’s milk. I was worn out just watching the boy have an orgasm. There was no telling how spent he felt at the end of his eruption. “Fuck, that was incredible, Toby. It’s like you could keep every sperm bank in the world fully supplied forever. I’ve never seen someone spew like that,” Toby said, pulling his chest back and watching the enormous dick flop out from between his pecs. The towering cock was still hard and stayed poking up into the air. All three of us stared at it - waving back and forth a little like a flagpole in the wind. I looked down and saw that Hank’s posers were sopping wet – he had clearly joined in with Toby’s explosion. The big man obviously could not hold out watching his best friend release a supersized load. I admired the mammoth wall of muscle that was the young man’s body. It was even more spectacular covered in the drying cum of the beautiful guy across from him. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” said Toby, his gaze staring into Hank’s eyes. “Yeah? That’s kind of funny, Tobster, because I’ve sat in my room many-a-night yanking myself to a big finale and wishing it had been your hand, mouth, or ass making me explode,” Hank said in response. It suddenly hit me that I had not suggested either statement. I hadn’t even subconsciously thought the words that were being shared. I was a little taken aback by what was happening in front of me. Hank leaned back towards Toby and slid his big hands under the other man’s ass. Toby wrapped his legs around his big friend. Hank stood up, taking the smaller muscleman into the air with him. “How about we take a little dip - to do a little clean up?” Hank asked as he turned and walked down the stairs into the cool water of the pool. I watched in astonishment as the two big men kept moving until they stood with water at chest level. Still supported by Hank’s arms, Toby splashed water onto the big pecs, neck, and massive arms of his friend – washing off all the dried spunk. The two men never took their eyes away from each other. Once they both sparkled in the sunlight because of water droplets, Toby brought his face to Hank’s and they began to kiss passionately. I no longer existed to either of them. I no longer had to suggest anything. I simply watched. It was then that it occurred to me . . . I might suggest that they grow…

WARNING: This story contains scenes of a violent nature. Some readers may find these scenes offensive. Please do not read on if you feel like this applies to you. PART ONE “Errrrrrch…” “Twenty-two and a half.” “Aw, c’mon, man!” “Well, pump it, man! C’mon. Squeeze.” “Ah, shit.” “Yeah, man. Twenty-two and three-quarters.” “Arrrrrch!” “Just a little more. One more pump, Cory.” “Ah, God, man. I’m startin’ to cramp.” “Little more. Yeah! Twenty-three!” Cory dropped his arm to his side, but the swollen biceps seemed determined to maintain its size, now that it had been abused for the sake of attaining the magic number. Twenty-three inches. He shook his upper arm and pressed on the release point just below the deltoid until he could bend his arm freely. “Man, Cory. That was beautiful, all pumped up like that. Big block’a biceps sittin’ there. How’s it feel?” I could tell what he wanted to say. I knew what he was feeling. Like it was going to cum. Like the muscle was going to just up and spurt right there on his arm. But Cory wasn’t that way. He kept it all to himself. So I almost mouthed his reply, the same reply he always gave. “Feels alright.” “Yeah. Alright.” I could tell he would need a little time to put things right in his head again, after such an effort. So I left him to brood, or whatever it was he did when he wouldn’t talk to me, and went over to the pec deck. I think he was a little jealous. I had hit the magic mark about a month ago and hadn’t even had to cramp up to get it. But, man, you should see this guy compared to what he looked like just twelve months ago. He’d walked into the gym wearing long sweat pants and a jersey-hooded top. In the middle of summer, yet. I don’t know what he thought he was hiding or why he thought he had to hide it. What showed, though, would have been enough to catch my attention even if his clothes hadn’t. His face was beautiful. Hard, chiseled features just sharp enough to make you hope the body was the same without being severe. Though the clothes were baggy, you could tell they hung on a solid frame. The front of the sweat pants were molded around what seemed to be a rather lengthy protrusion which hung a considerable way down his right pant leg. I thought I just might have found a match for my own ten inches. Everyone else in the place was hunkered down on a piece of gear, too wrapped up with their efforts to worry about what walked through the door. I was working the desk that morning, so it was up to me to see what this walking sauna wanted. “Hi. Can I help you?” “Ah, just looking, actually.” “Lots to look at. I’m Michael.” I extended my hand but was met with a look which asked why. I’m not the type to get annoyed easily, so I figured I’d just wait and let him make the next move. “Anything you might be interested in here?” He ran his gaze up and down my six foot three inch frame and his eyes told me all I needed to know. He wasn’t cruising me. He wanted to have a body like mine. They all did. Everyone who walked into the place started out wanting to have my body. For their own, I mean. Most of them who stuck around ended up getting what they wanted, though it took a while for them to accept the body they were born with. But this guy was different. I tried to see through the layer of fleece to what he had beneath. Hard to tell. But one thing was for sure, except for a little difference in hair color (mine is brown, his blonde) and eyes (my blue to his…God, what was that? Green with little flecks of gold in them…easy, Michael) we were definitely cut from the same mold. If there was anyone who had ever walked through that door who could have my body with the proper amount of work, it was him. And I mean ‘have’ both ways. “How much does it cost to join?” I reached behind the front desk and pulled out a membership agreement which had all the prices on it. As I turned back to hand it to him I saw his eyes zip back up to eye level. I wondered how far down he’d gotten before getting caught. “Here. This will tell you all the membership options. You can have a seat and look it over now, or…” His eyes were locked firmly on mine. “I have severe perceptual dyslexia.” I guess the blank look on my face must have told him… “I can’t read.” No fear. No embarrassment. No remorse. He just couldn’t read, that’s all. “Have a seat. I’ll go over everything with you. You want me to read this to you, or just answer questions.” “Go ahead and read it.” I did. It took about fifteen minutes, with all the ‘thou shalt’s’ and ‘thou shalt not’s.’ At the end, I asked if he had any questions or if he wanted me to go over anything again. “No, thanks. I can remember it all.” I didn’t know what that meant. I mean, if he had an eidetic memory and all, why couldn’t he just read? That dyslexia shit must be a real bitch. “Why don’t you look the place over a bit. You’re welcome to use any of the gear. And most of the folks here are happy to answer questions.” “Okay.” And with that, he headed out onto the floor. He spent the next hour, and I mean a full hour, watching each station be worked by a person. He had a few questions, but seemed to sense the need to let the members get on with their work. But it wasn’t hard to see that each encounter was a pleasant experience for each person he interacted with. It must have been the gold flecks. I sat back down at the desk to do paperwork, glancing up occasionally to see how he was doing. I finally decided he was going to behave himself and got lost in my duties. At one point I looked up to find him standing before me at the desk. I had no idea how long he had been there. His eyes locked onto mine and wouldn’t let go. “So?” He looked like he had already made up his mind. “I’ll start with a six-month membership without the classes option. I’ll provide my own lock and I’ve got insurance already.” “Well, that doesn’t leave me much to ask except how you want to…” “American Express.” Now what’s a guy who can’t read doing with an AMEX card? I was quickly learning that this “can’t read” thing was more of a big deal for me than it was for him. He took it out of his wallet. Platinum? What the hell’s going on here? I ran it through the verifier and entered an amount double of what his membership would cost; standard practice to cover incidentals and such. He caught my look of amazement when it came back with an approval code. He signed the credit slip with a scrawl that looked only slightly less decipherable than most people’s signatures. We filled in the forms together, him supplying answers, me the pen work. I thought he would clam up when it got to the personal data, but he fed it to me like it was my business to know and his to tell. “What’s your first name?” “Cory.” I wondered if his folks had known he would grow up beautiful enough to carry that name proudly. I knew it had to be either Cory or Stefan. “Middle initial.” “S.” I didn’t ask. We finished the form — I have to admit I was disappointed that the address he gave was a post office box — and then I took him back to the locker room, assigned him a locker and showed him where the towels and such were. Each time I indicated a location of something his eyes would flick to the spot for an instant and then back to me. His eyes hardly ever left mine. But instead of feeling threatened or uncomfortable, I felt like he was really interested in what I had to offer him. I straddled one of the benches that ran between the lockers and indicated he should do the same. He didn’t hesitate for an instant but joined me, facing me; his knees just inches from mine. “Look, Cory. I don’t know if this is any of my business, but in a way, I guess it is. I gotta ask. You ever had any experience with this stuff? Y’know. Working out?” “I had a friend who did it. I used to watch him. He had some equipment in his basement that he and his wife would use.” “But you’ve never done this, yourself?” “I tried some of his stuff once in a while.” “I don’t know if you noticed, but most of the folks out there, especially the ones who are really serious, have someone to work with.” “Like my friend and his wife.” “Yeah, though I don’t know too many boy/girl teams.” “They did it just for fun. Said it made the sex better.” I barely was able to keep my eyebrows from hitting the ceiling. I was dying to know what his part in all this was. With surprisingly little effort several scenarios came to mind. “Yeah. It does that, alright. Are you thinking of getting your friend to join the club, as well? Be your workout partner?” “He’s dead. They died in a car crash a few months ago. His mom said I could have the gear if I wanted it, but I didn’t know what to do with it.” This was getting weirder by the minute. Cory narrowed his gaze just a bit. He asked me, “Do you have a workout partner?” My old partner — partner in workouts, partner in business, partner in just about everything else in my life — my old partner had decided life on the coast was too much, or too little, or too — something — for him. Six months ago he‘d split, leaving an envelope with a terse note of apology and the papers to his half of the business signed over to me and notarized. He had even taken care of having his mail forwarded, so I didn’t even have the pleasure of NOT forwarding anything to him that might have appeared in my mailbox — not that I would ever have stooped to such a petty act of revenge, but he didn’t even leave me the opportunity to decide that. So it was as if I’d written: ASK ME IF I HAVE A WORKOUT PARTNER… AND WHILE YOU’RE AT IT, ASK ABOUT MY SEX LIFE, TOO in bold letters across my forehead with a red indelible marker. No, I had no workout partner. And then, Cory said the magic words; words I had been beaming into his mind, willing him to say. “It seems to me that if I were to work with you, it would be easy, us being so similar in build, and all.” Damn! Did that actually work? I wondered just how similar ‘similar’ was. I had on a pair of cut-off sweats that reached down to just above my knees and a tank top, so he had little trouble seeing what I had. He, on the other hand, was still wrapped up like Nanook of the North. I figured I had to take a chance. “Kinda hard to tell, with all that clothing you have on.” Cory immediately stood up and unzipped the jersey top, allowing the front to fall open. There seemed to be a brief moment of decision, then he pulled the two sides apart and shrugged it off his shoulders. It fell to the floor. So did my jaw. Chiseled. Like from a block of translucent marble. I mean, we’re talking individual fibers of muscle glowing underneath nicely tanned, flawless, blemish-less, hair-free skin. And did I mention the veins? Big fat ones over each biceps. Thick over his hairless forearms. Millions of them all over his hairless pecs. And did I mention his pecs? Hard. Flat. Very solid. His nipples were long and thick. And very erect. Not a lot of bulk on his frame, but not a lot else, either. I guessed maybe three or four percent body fat. Not starving or anorexic. Just hard. Like my cock. And did I mention my cock? My cock began to stir and I wondered if I should even pretend to be worried about him seeing me get hard. His eyes were still locked on mine, searching for something. I waited to see if he would flash a look at my crotch, but they stayed even, steady. I tried to be as polite, but curiosity got the better of me. I intended to just let them drift down, as though I was professionally appraising his body for future reference, but by the time I got to the flat, rippled surface of his abdominals, I had given up all pretense. And, sure enough, as my gaze ran down to his waist, I could not help catch a glimpse of what was steadily, very dramatically, becoming an insistent bulge in his pant-leg. And did I mention thick? I mean, like mine thick. Cory’s cock grew harder, thicker, quicker than I had ever seen a cock grow hard and thick. I thought he might pass out from the loss of blood elsewhere. I mean, I’ve gotten a little light-headed when my tool started draining off too much blood too quickly. Like now. It was a good thing I was sitting down. Or at least it was until I started really getting hard. Then it became really uncomfortable really fast. When I finally pulled my eyes away from the swelling that decorated Cory’s leg, I found myself still locked in his gaze. No irascible smile. No mischievous grin. No sly raising of the eyebrows, asking wordless questions, raising unthinkable hopes. Just that same, steady scrutiny. I didn’t even know if he was waiting for anything. What was I supposed to do? Strip, as well? “Nice.” Cory’s head cocked to the side a bit. “What?” The question startled me. Didn’t he know what he looked like? Didn’t he know what affect he was having on me? “Your body. Nice. Good foundation there. You set your mind to it and I could have you big as me in a year.” I was hoping to get him to extend his membership. “One year?” “Yeah. I think so. You gotta be ready to work, though.” “I work. That’s not a problem. When do we start?” How about tonight? My place? “How about tomorrow morning? I’ve got a guy that comes in and covers the desk in the morning so I can get my own routine in.” “That’s fine. What time?” “Eight o’clock?” “Fine.” My eyes dropped intentionally to his erection which was pressing with great persistence against the fabric of his sweats. This guy was hung. Thick, long, and…and…leaking. Man, I couldn’t believe the size of the wet spot which was spreading out just a couple of inches above his right knee. And he seemed to be completely unconcerned about it. Not the least bit uncomfortable, either physically or emotionally. Did he walk around with a ten inch hard-on and a gallon of pre-cum dripping down his leg all the time so that it didn’t even matter? “You seem to have developed quite a leak there.” “Yeah. Happens all the time.” “You ever, uh, take care of it?” “Sometimes. Sometimes I just leave it alone and it goes away after a while.” The guy gets a ten inch iron rod down his pant-leg and doesn’t even want to do anything about it? Man. I mean, I’d heard of self-abuse, but this was ridiculous. And here I was, my own cock so hard and throbbing it was beginning to peek out from the bottom of my shorts. I could feel my rather considerable balls begin to churn and I thought I was going to cum in sympathy for what this guy must be experiencing. Finally, I couldn’t stand it any more. “You want me to take care of that for you?” “Sure. If you want. Can you make it hurt?” That did it. The floodgates opened and three feet of bench before me was suddenly slathered with a thick coating of my hot, unexpected cum. Look, ma. No hands! And Cory was just as suddenly down on his belly on the bench, licking up every last drop of that sudden deluge. I mean, I’d seen lines of coke disappear slower than that. And he didn’t stop there. His lips grasped the head of my still protruding cock and licked and cleaned it, allowing me the opportunity to admire the knotted, rigid muscles of his back at close range. When he had completely drained my cock of its contents and licked the exposed portion of it clean, he stood back up and made a motion so swift my eyes could hardly follow it. One second he was clothed from the waist down. The next he was completely naked. Hard thighs. Hard calves. Hard abdominals and obliques. Hard, firm ass. And hard, hard, hard, hard cock. I mean a mean-kinda hard. It didn’t look like I would need to do much to make it hurt. It was already doing a pretty good job on its own. And the reason I knew that was that I was staring right at a duplicate copy of my own prodigious tool. He’s cut were I’m cut. He’s veined were I’m veined. His balls hang down where my balls hang down. And he is thick — and I mean thick — where I’m thick. I knew exactly what this cock wanted. I knew just where to chew, just where to suck, just where to lick and tease, and just how much it wanted to be squeezed. And squeeze I did. I grabbed it with both hands and wrapped my fingers around as far as they would reach. And then I squeezed. I squeezed and pulled it down, forcing it to bend until it was pressed against his bloated ball sac. And then I grabbed that sac and its contents and began to squeeze them as well. I pulled and squeezed and looked up to see what he was feeling. Cory’s eyes were clamped shut, his face screwed up in silent suffering. But there was a look of such joy beneath that exquisite agony I knew he was getting exactly what he needed. And his body was becoming more tense by the minute. Corded muscles, sharp and defined, began to press against each square inch of his skin. His arms raised and reached out, each hand grabbing a lock on a locker and pulling against them. He was not huge, not like me, but he was so cut-up, so hard that I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. Yeah, kid. You want to look like me. Well that goes the same for me. I want to feel the pain you’re feeling; the agony, the pressure, the extreme, pulverizing, ecstatic bliss. I want my mind blown like yours is. I want to not think twice about getting a hard-on and letting my huge balls leak all over whatever I’m wearing. I want to walk up to the nearest guy and tell him to hurt me, knowing — somehow really knowing — the guy will know exactly what it is I need. I bit hard on his shaft. I clamped down with my hands, my huge forearms bulging with veins and muscles. Then I took his balls in my mouth and began to chew on them, as well. I didn’t want to kill the guy. I wasn’t out for blood. But I knew exactly how far to go with this. Cory’s cock grew darker. As mine would. It began to throb. As mine would. It began to leak again. As mine would. As mine was. And then it began to spurt. As mine surely would have, had I not just come a few minutes before, myself. And through it all, he didn’t make a sound. Not a grunt, not a cry, not a whimper, not a plea. And when I had drunk down every last bit of what was one of the biggest loads of jiz I had ever been attacked by, he grabbed my hair, pulled it back, and looked into my eyes. “Feels alright.” So, here it was, almost exactly a year later, and we were both sporting twenty-three inch guns. I’d never seen anyone attack a routine like this guy did. I told him how important it was to let the muscle rest and heal, that it was as important a part of the routine as anything else. But for the first couple of months, it appeared he didn’t believe me. It was like he was racing toward some goal, or like he didn’t believe the goal was even possible, or maybe worth it, without a whole lot of pain and suffering. I mean, I understood about the pain and suffering. What bodybuilder didn’t? But this guy was into it big time. And it just got to the point around the gym that everyone stopped thinking twice about this guy running around with a huge erection and wet spot decorating his right thigh. And you could measure the intensity of his workout by the size of both. It was easy for me, at first. Hell, I had six years of work to my advantage. But he closed the gap quick and soon I was playing catch-up to his thighs. Then when I evened that score, his arms would jump ahead. Then his chest. Then his lats. Then his delts. After 12 months, I still haven’t gotten that one back. This guy’s delts are huge. I don’t want to give the impression I have any regrets about this at all. After six years, I thought I’d reached my peak, physically. Twenty-one and a half inch biceps and a fifty-four inch chest seemed pretty good to me. It was easy for me to maintain my body and not have to do a lot of ridiculous dieting and all the other insane things guys aiming for competition had to do. But then along came hurricane Cory and suddenly I’m anabolic Annie again like I’m going for my first state championship. And it felt good. I mean really good. I was getting to the point where I didn’t even mind the fact that I matched Cory’s incessant hard-on, inch for inch, hour for hour. Because there was always Cory to help me tame the beast. As the size of our physiques grew, so did our appetite for stimulation. I found myself withstanding pain he inflicted on me far beyond what I thought the human body could endure. I would marvel at both our tolerances as we pulled and pressed and stretched and punished each other’s body in our work and play. My balls were so tough that I never had to wear a jock anymore. Whereas before, just walking caused them to swing painfully against my thigh if I wasn’t wearing one, now I could take a direct hit and revel in the cramping pain it brought on. The same was true for the rest of my body. Our lovemaking consisted of a lot of wrestling and exertion, pulling and stretching against each other’s increasing strength. And the harder we fought, the harder we came. And came and came and came. We tried to see who could force his way up the other one’s ass with his thick, juicy cock, but losing was winning, so the effort was for the fun of it, instead. He wouldn’t move in with me. He would come over after I got off work and we would screw and suck each other until the wee hours of the morning then do it all over again the next day. But he would never spend the whole night. I told him I felt a need to be with him after we made love but he said that wasn’t something he was into. So, no matter how deeply we kissed, no matter how hot and hard we fucked, no matter how tightly we held each other as our cocks shot their magnificent loads into each others bodies, he was always quick with the good-bye. At one point I tried to make an issue of it, hoping he would at least talk to me about it, explain his need to get away. But all I got was another indecipherable response. “When the year is up. Wait.” And though it’s been frustrating, it seems he’s going to be good to his word. Over the past few weeks, as the year comes to a close, he has been dropping little hints about something he has in store for us. I know enough now that I won’t even bother to get any more information out of him. His most expressive moment is still at the culmination of the most mind-bending, cock-exploding, ball-busting, muscle-swelling sex free-for-all when his amazing gold-flecked eyes lock onto mine and he says, “Feels alright.” All I can do is wait. It’s just a few more days. End Part One